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UNDINE
BY
DE LA MOTTE FOUQUE
TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN
BY F. E. BUNNETT
CONTENTS.
DEDICATION
CHAPTER
I. HOW THE KNIGHT CAME TO THE FISHERMAN
II. IN WHAT WAY UNDINE HAD COME TO THE FISHERMAN
III. HOW THEY FOUND UNDINE AGAIN
IV. OF THAT WHICH THE KNIGHT ENCOUNTERED IN THE WOOD
V. HOW THE KNIGHT LIVED ON THE LITTLE PROMONTORY
VI. OF A NUPTIAL CEREMONY
VII. WHAT FURTHER HAPPENED ON THE EVENING OF THE WEDDING
VIII. THE DAY AFTER THE WEDDING
IX. HOW THE KNIGHT TOOK HIS YOUNG WIFE WITH HIM
X. HOW THEY LIVED IN THE CITY
XI. THE ANNIVERSARY OF BERTALDA'S NAME-DAY
XII. HOW THEY DEPARTED FROM THE IMPERIAL CITY
XIII. HOW THEY LIVED AT CASTLE RINGSTETTEN
XIV. HOW BERTALDA RETURNED HOME WITH THE KNIGHT
XV. THE JOURNEY TO VIENNA
XVI. HOW IT FARED FURTHER WITH HULDBRAND
XVII. THE KNIGHT'S DREAM
XVIII. HOW THE KNIGHT HULDBRAND IS MARRIED
XIX. HOW THE KNIGHT HULDBRAND WAS BURIED
DEDICATION.
Undine, thou image fair and blest,
Since first thy strange mysterious glance,
Shone on me from some old romance,
How hast thou sung my heart to rest!
How hast thou clung to me and smiled,
And wouldest, whispering in my ear,
Give vent to all thy miseries drear,
A little half-spoiled timorous child!
Yet hath my zither caught the sound,
And breathed from out its gates of gold,
Each gentle word thy lips have told,
Until their fame is spread around.
And many a heart has loved thee well,
In spite of every wayward deed,
And many a one will gladly read,
The pages which thy history tell.
I catch the whispered hope expressed,
That thou should'st once again appear;
So cast aside each doubt and fear,
And come, Undine! thou spirit blest!
Greet every noble in the hall,
And greet 'fore all, with trusting air,
The beauteous women gathered there;
I know that thou art loved by all.
And if one ask thee after me,
Say: he's a true and noble knight,
Fair woman's slave in song and fight
And in all deeds of chivalry.
UNDINE.
CHAPTER I.
HOW THE KNIGHT CAME TO THE FISHERMAN.
There was once, it may be now many hundred years ago, a good old
fisherman, who was sitting one fine evening before his door, mending
his nets. The part of the country in which he lived was extremely
pretty. The greensward, on which his cottage stood, ran far into the
lake, and it seemed as if it was from love for the blue clear waters
that the tongue of land had stretched itself out into them, while
with an equally fond embrace the lake had encircled the green
pasture rich with waving grass and flowers, and the refreshing shade
of trees. The one welcomed the other, and it was just this that made
each so beautiful. There were indeed few human beings, or rather
none at all, to be met with on this pleasant spot, except the
fisherman and his family. For at the back of this little promontory
there lay a very wild forest, which, both from its gloom and
pathless solitude as well as from the wonderful creatures and
illusions with which it was said to abound, was avoided by most
people except in cases of necessity.
The pious old fisherman, however, passed through it many a time
undisturbed, when he was taking the choice fish, which he had caught
at his beautiful home, to a large town situated not far from the
confines of the forest. The principal reason why it was so easy for
him to pass through this forest was because the tone of his thoughts
was almost entirely of a religious character, and besides this,
whenever he set foot upon the evil reputed shades, he was wont to
sing some holy song, with a clear voice and a sincere heart.
While sitting over his nets this evening, unsuspicious of any evil,
a sudden fear came upon him, at the sound of a rustling in the gloom
of the forest, as of a horse and rider, the noise approaching nearer
and nearer to the little promontory. All that he had dreamed, in
many a stormy night, of the mysteries of the forest, now flashed at
once through his mind; foremost of all, the image of a gigantic
snow-white man, who kept unceasingly nodding his head in a
portentous manner. Indeed, when he raised his eyes toward the wood
it seemed to him as if he actually saw the nodding man approaching
through the dense foliage. He soon, however, reassured himself,
reflecting that nothing serious had ever befallen him even in the
forest itself, and that upon this open tongue of land the evil
spirit would be still less daring in the exercise of his power. At
the same time he repeated aloud a text from the Bible with all his
heart, and this so inspired him with courage that he almost smiled
at the illusion he had allowed to possess him. The white nodding man
was suddenly transformed into a brook long familiar to him, which
ran foaming from the forest and discharged itself into the lake. The
noise, however, which he had heard, was caused by a knight
beautifully apparelled, who, emerging from the deep shadows of the
wood, came riding toward the cottage. A scarlet mantle was thrown
over his purple gold-embroidered doublet; a red and violet plume
waved from his golden-colored head-gear; and a beautifully and
richly ornamented sword flashed from his shoulder-belt. The white
steed that bore the knight was more slenderly formed than war-horses
generally are, and he stepped so lightly over the turf that this
green and flowery carpet seemed scarcely to receive the slightest
injury from his tread.
The old fisherman did not, however, feel perfectly secure in his
mind, although he tried to convince himself that no evil was to be
feared from so graceful an apparition; and therefore he politely
took off his hat as the knight approached, and remained quietly with
his nets.
Presently the stranger drew up, and inquired whether he and his
horse could have shelter and care for the night. "As regards your
horse, good sir," replied the fisherman. "I can assign him no better
stable than this shady pasture, and no better provender than the
grass growing on it. Yourself, however, I will gladly welcome to my
small cottage, and give you supper and lodging as good as we have."
The knight was well satisfied with this; he alighted from his horse,
and, with the assistance of the fisherman, he relieved it from
saddle and bridle, and turned it loose upon the flowery green. Then
addressing his host, he said: "Even had I found you less hospitable
and kindly disposed, my worthy old fisherman, you would nevertheless
scarcely have got rid of me to-day, for, as I see, a broad lake lies
before us, and to ride back into that mysterious wood, with the
shades of evening coming on, heaven keep me from it!"
"We will not talk too much of that," said the fisherman, and he led
his guest into the cottage.
There, beside the hearth, from which a scanty fire shed a dim light
through the cleanly-kept room, sat the fisherman's aged wife in a
capacious chair. At the entrance of the noble guest she rose to give
him a kindly welcome, but resumed her seat of honor without offering
it to the stranger. Upon this the fisherman said with a smile: "You
must not take it amiss of her, young sir, that she has not given up
to you the most comfortable seat in the house; it is a custom among
poor people, that it should belong exclusively to the aged."
"Why, husband," said the wife, with a quiet smile, "what can you be
thinking of? Our guest belongs no doubt to Christian men, and how
could it come into the head of the good young blood to drive old
people from their chairs? Take a seat, my young master," she
continued, turning toward the knight; "over there, there is a right
pretty little chair, only you must not move about on it too roughly,
for one of its legs is no longer of the firmest." The knight fetched
the chair carefully, sat down upon it good-humoredly, and it seemed
to him as if he were related to this little household, and had just
returned from abroad.
The three worthy people now began to talk together in the most
friendly and familiar manner. With regard to the forest, about which
the knight made some inquiries, the old man was not inclined to be
communicative; he felt it was not a subject suited to approaching
night, but the aged couple spoke freely of their home and former
life, and listened also gladly when the knight recounted to them his
travels, and told them that he had a castle near the source of the
Danube, and that his name was Sir Huldbrand of Ringstetten. During
the conversation, the stranger had already occasionally heard a
splash against the little low window, as if some one were sprinkling
water against it. Every time the noise occurred, the old man knit
his brow with displeasure; but when at last a whole shower was
dashed against the panes, and bubbled into the room through the
decayed casement, he rose angrily, and called threateningly from the
window: "Undine! will you for once leave off these childish tricks?
and to-day, besides, there is a stranger knight with us in the
cottage." All was silent without, only a suppressed laugh was
audible, and the fisherman said as he returned: "You must pardon it
in her, my honored guest, and perhaps many a naughty trick besides;
but she means no harm by it. It is our foster-child, Undine, and she
will not wean herself from this childishness, although she has
already entered her eighteenth year. But, as I said, at heart she is
thoroughly good."
"You may well talk," replied the old woman, shaking her head; "when
you come home from fishing or from a journey, her frolics may then
be very delightful, but to have her about one the whole day long,
and never to hear a sensible word, and instead of finding her a help
in the housekeeping as she grows older, always to be obliged to be
taking care that her follies do not completely ruin us, that is
quite another thing, and the patience of a saint would be worn out
at last."
"Well, well," said her husband with a smile, "you have your troubles
with Undine, and I have mine with the lake. It often breaks away my
dams, and tears my nets to pieces, but for all that, I have an
affection for it, and so have you for the pretty child, in spite of
all your crosses and vexations. Isn't it so?"
"One can't be very angry with her, certainly," said the old woman,
and she smiled approvingly.
Just then the door flew open, and a beautiful, fair girl glided
laughing into the room, and said "You have only been jesting,
father, for where is your guest?"
At the same moment, however, she perceived the knight, and stood
fixed with astonishment before the handsome youth, Huldbrand was
struck with her charming appearance, and dwelt the more earnestly on
her lovely features, as he imagined it was only her surprise that
gave him this brief enjoyment, and that she would presently turn
from his gaze with increased bashfulness. It was, however, quite
otherwise; for after having looked at him for some time, she drew
near him confidingly, knelt down before him, and said, as she played
with a gold medal which he wore on his breast, suspended from a rich
chain: "Why, you handsome, kind guest, how have you come to our poor
cottage at last? Have you been obliged then to wander through the
world for years, before you could find your way to us? Do you come
out of that wild forest, my beautiful knight?" The old woman's
reproof allowed him no time for reply. She admonished the girl to
stand up and behave herself and to go to her work. Undine, however,
without making any answer drew a little footstool close to
Huldbrand's chair, sat down upon it with her spinning, and said
pleasantly: "I will work here." The old man did as parents are wont
to do with spoiled children. He affected to observe nothing of
Undine's naughtiness and was beginning to talk of something else.
But this the girl would not let him do; she said: "I have asked our
charming guest whence he comes, and he has not yet answered me."
"I come from the forest, you beautiful little vision," returned
Huldbrand; and she went on to say:--
"Then you must tell me how you came there, for it is usually so
feared, and what marvellous adventures you met with in it, for it is
impossible to escape without something of the sort."
Huldbrand felt a slight shudder at this remembrance, and looked
involuntarily toward the window, for it seemed to him as if one of
the strange figures he had encountered in the forest were grinning
in there; but he saw nothing but the deep dark night, which had now
shrouded everything without. Upon this he composed himself and was
on the point of beginning his little history, when the old man
interrupted him by saying: "Not so, sir knight! this is no fit hour
for such things." Undine, however, sprang angrily from her little
stool, and standing straight before the fisherman with her fair arms
fixed in her sides, she exclaimed: "He shall not tell his story,
father? He shall not? but it is my will. He shall! He shall in spite
of you!" and thus saying she stamped her pretty little foot
vehemently on the floor, but she did it all with such a comically
graceful air that Huldbrand now felt his gaze almost more riveted
upon her in her anger than before in her gentleness.
The restrained wrath of the old man, on the contrary, burst forth
violently. He severely reproved Undine's disobedience and unbecoming
behavior to the stranger, and his good old wife joined with him
heartily. Undine quickly retorted: "If you want to chide me, and
won't do what I wish, then sleep alone in your old smoky hut!" and
swift as an arrow she flew from the room, and fled into the dark
night.