The Black Valley lay among the deepest recesses of the mountains. What
it is called now none can tell. In those times it bore that name among
the countrymen, on account of the deep gloom shed over it by many high
trees, mostly pines. Even the brook which gushed down between the
cliffs was tinged with black, and never sparkled like the merry
streams from which nothing intercepts the blue of heaven. Now, in the
dusk of twilight, it looked darker still as it gurgled between the
rocks. The Knight spurred his horse along its banks, now fearing to
lose ground in his pursuit, and now again, that he might overlook the
fugitive in her hiding-place, if he hurried past too swiftly. He
presently found himself far advanced in the valley, and hoped he must
soon overtake her, if he were but in the right track. Then again, the
thought that it might be a wrong one roused the keenest anxiety in
his breast. Where was the tender Bertalda to lay her head, if he
missed her in this bleak, stormy night, which was setting in, black
and awful, upon the valley? And now he saw something white gleaming
through the boughs, on the slope of the mountain; he took it for
Bertalda's robe and made for it. But the horse started back, and
reared so obstinately that Huldbrand, impatient of delay, and having
already found him difficult to manage among the brambles of the
thicket, dismounted, and fastened the foaming steed to a tree; he then
felt his way through the bushes on foot. The boughs splashed his head
and cheeks roughly with cold wet dew; far off, he heard the growl of
thunder beyond the mountains, and the whole strange scene had such an
effect upon him, that he became afraid of approaching the white
figure, which he now saw lying on the ground at a short distance. And
yet he could distinguish it to be a woman, dressed in long white
garments like Bertalda's, asleep or in a swoon. He came close to her,
made the boughs rustle, and his sword ring--but she stirred not.
"Bertalda!" cried he; first gently, then louder and louder--in vain.
When at length he shouted the beloved name with the whole strength of
his lungs, a faint mocking echo returned it from the cavities of the
rocks--"Bertalda!" but the sleeper awoke not. He bent over her; but
the gloom of the valley and the shades of night prevented his
discerning her features. At length, though kept back by some boding
fears, he knelt down by her on the earth, and just then a flash of
lightning lighted up the valley. He saw a hideous distorted face close
to his own, and heard a hollow voice say, "Give me a kiss, thou sweet
shepherd!" With a cry of horror Huldbrand started up, and the monster
after him. "Go home!" it cried, "the bad spirits are abroad--go home!
or I have you!" and its long white arm nearly grasped him. "Spiteful
Kühleborn," cried the Knight, taking courage, "what matters it, I know
thee, foul spirit! There is a kiss for thee!" And he raised his sword
furiously against the figure. But it dissolved, and a drenching shower
made it sufficiently clear to the Knight what enemy he had
encountered. "He would scare me away from Bertalda," said he aloud to
himself; "he thinks he can subdue me by his absurd tricks, and make me
leave the poor terrified maiden in his power, that he may wreak his
vengeance upon her. But _that_ he never shall--wretched goblin! What
power lies in a human breast when steeled by firm resolve, the
contemptible juggler has yet to learn." And he felt the truth of his
own words, and seemed to have nerved himself afresh by them. He
thought, too, that fortune now began to aid him, for before he had got
back to his horse again, he distinctly heard the piteous voice of
Bertalda as if near at hand, borne toward him on the winds as their
howling mingled with the thunder. Eagerly did he push on in that
direction, and he found the trembling damsel was just attempting to
climb the mountain's side, in order, at any risk, to get out of these
awful shades.
He met her affectionately and however proudly she might before have
determined to hold out, she could not but rejoice at being rescued by
her much-loved Huldbrand from the fearful solitude, and warmly invited
to return to his cheerful home in the castle. She accompanied him with
scarcely a word of reluctance, but was so exhausted, that the Knight
felt much relieved when they had reached the horse in safety; he
hastened to loose him, and would have placed his tender charge upon
him, and walked by her side to guide her carefully through the
dangerous shades. But Kühleborn's mad pranks had driven the horse
quite wild. Hardly could the Knight himself have sprung upon the
terrified plunging creature's back: to place the trembling Bertalda
upon him was quite impossible; so they made up their minds to walk
home. With his horse's bridle over one arm, Huldbrand supported his
half-fainting companion on the other. Bertalda mustered what strength
she could, in order the sooner to get beyond this dreaded valley, but
fatigue weighed her down like lead, and every limb shook under her;
partly from the recollection of all she had already suffered from
Kühleborn's spite, and partly from terror at the continued crashing of
the tempest through the mountain forests.
At length she slid down from her protector's arm, and sinking on the
moss, she said: "Leave me to die here, noble Huldbrand; I reap the
punishment of my folly, and must sink under this load of fatigue and
anguish."--"Never, my precious friend, never will I forsake you,"
cried Huldbrand, vainly striving to curb his raging steed, who was now
beginning to start and plunge worse than ever: the Knight contrived to
keep him at some distance from the exhausted maiden, so as to save her
the terror of seeing him near her. But no sooner had he withdrawn
himself and the wild animal a few steps, than she began to call him
back in the most piteous manner, thinking he was indeed going to
desert her in this horrible wilderness. He was quite at a loss what to
do: gladly would he have let the horse gallop away in the darkness and
expend his wild fury, but that he feared he might rush down upon the
very spot where Bertalda lay.
In this extremity of distress, it gave him unspeakable comfort to
descry a wagon slowly descending the stony road behind him. He called
out for help: a man's voice replied telling him to have patience, but
promising to come to his aid; soon two white horses became visible
through the thicket, and next the white smock-frock of the wagoner,
and a large sheet of white linen that covered his goods inside. "Ho,
stop!" cried the man, and the obedient horses stood still. "I see well
enough," said he, "what ails the beast. When first I came through
these parts my horses were just as troublesome; because there is a
wicked water-sprite living hard by, who takes delight in making them
play tricks. But I know a charm for this; if you will give me leave to
whisper it in your horse's ear, you will see him as quiet as mine
yonder in a moment."--"Try your charm, if it will do any good!" said
the impatient Knight. The driver pulled the unruly horse's head toward
him, and whispered a couple of words in his ear. At once the animal
stood still, tamed and pacified, and showed no remains of his former
fury but by panting and snorting, as if he still chafed inwardly. This
was no time for Huldbrand to inquire how it had been done. He agreed
with the wagoner that Bertalda should be taken into the wagon, which
by his account was loaded with bales of soft cotton, and conveyed to
the Castle of Ringstetten, while the Knight followed on horseback. But
his horse seemed too much spent by his former violence to be able to
carry his master so far, and the man persuaded Huldbrand to get into
the wagon with Bertalda. The horse was to be fastened behind. "We
shall go down hill," said the man, "and that is light work for my
horses." The Knight placed himself by Bertalda, his horse quietly
followed them, and the driver walked by steadily and carefully.
In the deep stillness of night, while the storm growled more and more
distant, and in the consciousness of safety and easy progress,
Huldbrand and Bertalda insensibly got into confidential discourse. He
tenderly reproached her for having so hastily fled; she excused
herself with bashful emotions, and through all she said it appeared
most clearly that her heart was all his own. Huldbrand was too much
engrossed by the expression of her words to attend to their apparent
meaning, and he only replied to the former. Upon this, the wagoner
cried out in a voice that rent the air, "Now my horses, up with you;
show us what you are made of, my fine fellows." The Knight put out his
head and saw the horses treading or rather swimming through the
foaming waters, while the wheels whirled loudly and rapidly like those
of a water-mill, and the wagoner was standing upon the top of his
wagon, overlooking the floods. "Why, what road is this? It will take
us into the middle of the stream," cried Huldbrand. "No, sir," cried
the driver laughing; "it is just the other way. The stream is coming
into the middle of the road. Look round, and see how it is all
flooded."
In fact, the whole valley was now heaving with waves, that had swollen
rapidly to a great height. "This must be Kühleborn, the wicked sprite,
trying to drown us!" cried the Knight. "Have you no charm to keep him
off, friend?"--"I do know of one," said the driver, "but I can't and
won't make use of it, till you know who I am."--"Is this a time for
riddles?" shouted the Knight; "the flood is rising every moment, and
what care I to know who you are?"--"It rather concerns you, however,
to know," said the driver, "for I am Kühleborn." And he grinned
hideously into the wagon--which was now a wagon no longer, nor were
the horses horses; but all dissolved into foaming waves; the wagoner
himself shot up into a giant Waterspout, bore down the struggling
horse into the flood, and, towering over the heads of the hapless
pair, till he had swelled into a watery fountain, he would have
swallowed them up the next moment.
But now the sweet voice of Undine was heard above the wild uproar;
the moon shone out between the clouds, and at the same instant Undine
came into sight, upon the high grounds above them. She addressed
Kühleborn in a commanding tone, the huge wave laid itself down,
muttering and murmuring; the waters rippled gently away in the moon's
soft light, and Undine alighted like a white dove from her airy
height, and led them to a soft green spot on the hillside, where she
refreshed their jaded spirits with choice food. She then helped
Bertalda to mount her own white palfrey, and at length they all three
reached the Castle of Ringstetten in safety.