There was certainly much to displease the Lord of Ringstetten in the
events of this day; yet he could not look back upon them, without
feeling proud of the guileless truth and the generosity of heart shown
by his lovely wife. "If indeed her soul was my gift," thought he, "it
is nevertheless much better than my own;" and he devoted himself to
the task of soothing her grief, and determined he would take her away
the next morning from a spot now so full of bitter recollections.
They were mistaken, however, in thinking that she had lost in the eyes
of the world by this adventure. So prepared were the minds of the
people to find something mysterious in her, that her strange discovery
of Bertalda's origin scarcely surprised them; while, on the other
hand, everyone that heard of Bertalda's history and of her passionate
behaviour, was moved with indignation. Of this, the Knight and Undine
were not aware; nor would it have given them any comfort, for she was
still as jealous of Bertalda's good name as of her own. Upon the
whole, they had no greater wish than to leave the town without delay.
At daybreak next morning, Undine's chariot was in readiness at the
door, and the steeds of Huldbrand and of his squires stood around it,
pawing the ground with impatience. As the Knight led his fair bride to
the door, a fishing girl accosted them. "We want no fish," said
Huldbrand; "we are just going away." The girl began to sob bitterly,
and they then recognised her as Bertalda. They immediately turned back
into the house with her; and she said that the Duke and Duchess had
been so incensed at her violence the day before, as to withdraw their
protection from her, though not without giving her a handsome
allowance. The Fisherman too had received a liberal gift, and had
departed that evening with his wife, to return to the promontory. "I
would have gone with them," she continued, "but the old Fisherman,
whom they call my father--"
"And so he is, Bertalda," interrupted Undine. "He is your father. For
the man you saw at the fountain told me how it is. He was trying to
persuade me that I had better not take you to Ringstetten, and he let
drop the secret."
"Well then," said Bertalda, "my father--if so it must be--my father
said, 'You shall not live with us till you are an altered creature.
Take courage and come across the haunted forest to us; that will show
that you sincerely wish to belong to your parents. But do not come in
your finery; be like what you are, a fisherman's daughter.' And I will
do as he bids me; for the whole world has forsaken me, and I have
nothing left, but to live and die humbly in a poor hut, alone with my
lowly parents. I do dread the forest very much. They say it is full of
grim spectres, and I am so timid! But what can I do? I came here only
to implore the Lady of Ringstetten's pardon for my rude language
yesterday. I have no doubt you meant what you did kindly, noble Dame;
but you little knew what a trial your words would be to me, and I was
so alarmed and bewildered, that many a hasty, wicked word escaped my
lips. Ah forgive me, forgive me! I am unhappy enough already. Only
consider what I was yesterday morning, even at the beginning of your
feast, and what I am now."
Her words were lost in a flood of bitter tears, and Undine, equally
affected, fell weeping on her neck. It was long before her emotion
would let her speak: at length she said, "You shall go to Ringstetten
with us; all shall be as we had settled it before; only call me Undine
again, and not 'Lady' and 'noble Dame.' You see, we began by being
exchanged in our cradles; our lives have been linked from that hour,
and we will try to bind them so closely that no human power shall
sever us. Come with us to Ringstetten, and all will be well. We will
live like sisters there, trust me for arranging that." Bertalda looked
timidly at Huldbrand. The sight of this beautiful, forsaken maiden
affected him; he gave her his hand and encouraged her kindly to trust
herself to him and his wife. "As to your parents," said he, "we will
let them know why you do not appear;" and he would have said much more
concerning the good old folks, but he observed that Bertalda shuddered
at the mention of them, and therefore dropped the subject. He gave her
his arm, placed first her and then Undine in the carriage, and rode
cheerfully after them; he urged the drivers on so effectually, that
they very soon found themselves out of sight of the city, and beyond
the reach of sad recollections--and the two ladies could fully enjoy
the beautiful country through which the road wound along.
After a few days' travelling, they arrived, one sunny evening, at the
Castle of Ringstetten. Its young lord had much business with his
steward and labourers to occupy him, so that Undine was left alone
with Bertalda. They took a walk on the high ramparts of the castle,
and admired the rich Swabian landscape, which lay far and wide around
them. A tall man suddenly came up, with a courteous obeisance; and
Bertalda could not help thinking him very like the ominous man of the
fountain. The likeness struck her still more, when, upon an impatient
and even menacing gesture of Undine's, he went away with the same
hasty step and shake of the head as before.
"Do not be afraid, dear Bertalda," said Undine, "the ugly man shall
not harm you this time." After which she told her whole history,
beginning from her birth, and how they had been exchanged in their
earliest childhood. At first her friend looked at her with serious
alarm; she thought Undine was possessed by some delirium. But she
became convinced it was all true, as she listened to the
well-connected narrative, which accounted so well for the strange
events of the last months; besides which, there is something in
genuine truth which finds an answer in every heart, and can hardly be
mistaken. She was bewildered, when she found herself one of the actors
in a living fairy tale, and as wild a tale as any she had read. She
gazed upon Undine with reverence; but could not help feeling a chill
thrown over her affection for her; and that evening at supper time,
she wondered at the Knight's fond love and familiarity toward a being,
whom she now looked upon as rather a spirit than a human creature.