For some time after this adventure they led a quiet and peaceful life
in the castle. The Knight was deeply touched by his wife's angelic
goodness, so signally displayed by her pursuing and saving them in the
Black Valley, where their lives were threatened by Kühleborn. Undine
herself was happy in the peace of an approving conscience; besides
that, many a gleam of hope now brightened her path, as her husband's
love and confidence seemed to revive; Bertalda meanwhile was grateful,
modest, and timid, without claiming any merit for being so. If either
of her companions alluded to the sealing up of the fountain, or the
adventures in the Black Valley, she would implore them to spare her on
those subjects, because she could not think of the fountain without a
blush, nor the valley without a shudder. She was therefore told
nothing further; indeed, what would have been the use of enlightening
her? Nothing could add to the peace and happiness which had taken up
their abode in the Castle of Ringstetten; they enjoyed the present in
full security, and the future lay before them, all blooming with fair
fruits and flowers.
The winter had gone by without any interruption to their social
comfort; and spring, with her young green shoots and bright blue
skies, began to smile upon men; their hearts felt light, like the
young season, and from its returning birds of passage, they caught a
fancy to travel. One day as they were walking together near the
sources of the Danube, Huldbrand fell into talk about the glories of
that noble river, how proudly he flowed on, through fruitful lands, to
the spot where the majestic city of Vienna crowned his banks, and how
every mile of his course was marked by fresh grandeur and beauty. "How
delightful it would be to follow his course down to Vienna!" cried
Bertalda; but instantly relapsing into her timid, chastened manner,
she blushed and was silent. This touched Undine, and in her eagerness
to give her friend pleasure, she said: "And why should we not take the
trip?" Bertalda jumped for joy, and their fancy began to paint this
pleasant recreation in the brightest colours. Huldbrand encouraged
them cheerfully, but whispered once to Undine: "But, should not we get
within Kühleborn's power again, down there?"--"Let him come," said
she, laughing; "I shall be with you, and in my presence he durst not
attempt any mischief."
So the only possible objection seemed removed and they prepared for
departure, and were soon sailing along, full of spirit and of gay
hopes. But, O Man! it is not for thee to wonder when the course of
events differs widely from the paintings of thy fancy. The treacherous
foe, that lures us to our ruin, lulls his victim to rest with sweet
music and golden dreams. Our guardian angel, on the contrary, will
often rouse us by a sharp and awakening blow.
The first days they spent on the Danube were days of extraordinary
enjoyment. The further they floated down the proud stream the nobler
and fairer grew the prospect. But, just as they had reached a most
lovely district, the first sight of which had promised them great
delight, the unruly Kühleborn began openly to give signs of his
presence and power. At first they were only sportive tricks, because,
whenever he ruffled the stream and raised the wind, Undine repressed
him by a word or two, and made him again subside at once; but his
attempts soon began again, and again, Undine was obliged to warn him
off; so that the pleasure of the little party was grievously
disturbed. To make things worse, the watermen would mutter many a dark
surmise into each other's ears, and cast strange looks at the three
gentlefolks, whose very servants began to feel suspicion, and to show
distrust of their lord. Huldbrand said to himself more than once,
"This comes of uniting with other than one's like: a son of earth may
not marry a wondrous maid of ocean." To justify himself (as we all
love to do) he would add, "But I did not know she was a maid of ocean.
If I am to be pursued and fettered wherever I go by the mad freaks of
her relations, mine is the misfortune, not the fault." Such
reflections somewhat checked his self-reproaches; but they made him
the more disposed to accuse, nay, even to hate Undine. Already he
began to scowl upon her, and the poor wife understood but too well his
meaning. Exhausted by this, and by her constant exertions against
Kühleborn, she sank back one evening in the boat, and was lulled by
its gentle motion into a deep sleep.
But no sooner were her eyes closed, than everyone in the boat thought
he saw, just opposite his own eyes, a terrific human head rising above
the water; not like the head of a swimmer, but planted upright on the
surface of the river, and keeping pace with the boat. Each turned to
his neighbour to show him the cause of his terror, and found him
looking equally frightened, but pointing in a different direction,
where the half-laughing, half-scowling goblin met his eyes. When at
length they tried to explain the matter to each other, crying out,
"Look there; no, there!" each of them suddenly perceived the other's
phantom, and the water round the boat appeared all alive with ghastly
monsters. The cry which burst from every mouth awakened Undine. Before
the light of her beaming eyes the horde of misshapen faces vanished.
But Huldbrand was quite exasperated by these fiendish tricks and would
have burst into loud imprecations, had not Undine whispered in the
most beseeching manner, "For God's sake, my own lord, be patient now;
remember we are on the water." The Knight kept down his anger, and
soon sank into thought. Presently Undine whispered to him: "My love,
had not we better give up the foolish journey, and go home to
Ringstetten in comfort?" But Huldbrand muttered angrily, "Then I am to
be kept a prisoner in my own castle? and even there I may not breathe
freely unless the fountain is sealed up? Would to Heaven the absurd
connection"--But Undine pressed her soft hand gently upon his lips.
And he held his peace, and mused upon all she had previously told him.
In the meantime, Bertalda had yielded herself up to many and strange
reflections. She knew something of Undine's origin, but not all! and
Kühleborn in particular was only a fearful but vague image in her
mind; she had not even once heard his name. And as she pondered these
wonderful subjects, she half unconsciously took off a golden necklace
which Huldbrand had bought for her of a travelling jeweller a few days
before; she held it close to the surface of the river playing with
it, and dreamily watching the golden gleam that it shed on the glassy
water. Suddenly a large hand came up out of the Danube, snatched the
necklace, and ducked under with it. Bertalda screamed aloud, and was
answered by a laugh of scorn from the depths below. And now the Knight
could contain himself no longer. Starting up, he gave loose to his
fury, loading with imprecations those who chose to break into his
family and private life, and challenging them--were they goblins or
sirens--to meet his good sword. Bertalda continued to weep over the
loss of her beloved jewel, and her tears were as oil to the flames of
his wrath, while Undine kept her hand dipped into the water with a
ceaseless low murmur, only once or twice interrupting her mysterious
whispers to say to her husband in tones of entreaty, "Dearest love,
speak not roughly to me here; say whatever you will, only spare me
here; you know why!" and he still restrained his tongue (which
stammered with passion) from saying a word directly against her. She
soon drew her hand from under the water, bringing up a beautiful coral
necklace whose glitter dazzled them all. "Take it," said she, offering
it kindly to Bertalda; "I have sent for this, instead of the one you
lost; do not grieve any more, my poor child." But Huldbrand darted
forward, snatched the shining gift from Undine's hand, hurled it again
into the water, and roared furiously, "So you still have intercourse
with them? In the name of sorcery, go back to them with all your
baubles, and leave us men in peace, witch as you are!" With eyes
aghast, yet streaming with tears, poor Undine gazed at him, still
holding out the hand which had so lovingly presented to Bertalda the
bright jewel. Then she wept more and more, like a sorely injured,
innocent child. And at length she said faintly, "Farewell, my dearest;
farewell! They shall not lay a finger on thee; only be true to me,
that I may still guard thee from them. But I, alas! I must be gone;
all this bright morning of life is over. Woe, woe is me! what hast
thou done? woe, woe!" And she slipped out of the boat and passed away.
Whether she went down into the river, or flowed away with it, none
could tell; it was like both and yet like neither. She soon mingled
with the waters of the Danube, and nothing was to be heard but the
sobbing whispers of the stream as it washed against the boat, seeming
to say distinctly, "Woe, woe! Oh be true to me! woe, woe!"
Huldbrand lay flat in the boat, drowned in tears, till a deep swoon
came to the unhappy man's relief, and steeped him in oblivion.