CHAPTER VIII.

THE DAY AFTER THE WEDDING.

The fresh light of the morning awoke the young married pair.

Wonderful and horrible dreams had disturbed Huldbrand's rest; he had

been haunted by spectres, who, grinning at him by stealth, had tried

to disguise themselves as beautiful women, and from beautiful women

they all at once assumed the faces of dragons, and when he started

up from these hideous visions, the moonlight shone pale and cold

into the room; terrified he looked at Undine, who still lay in

unaltered beauty and grace. Then he would press a light kiss upon

her rosy lips, and would fall asleep again only to be awakened by

new terrors. After he had reflected on all this, now that he was

fully awake, he reproached himself for any doubt that could have led

him into error with regard to his beautiful wife. He begged her to

forgive him for the injustice he had done her, but she only held out

to him her fair hand, sighed deeply, and remained silent. But a

glance of exquisite fervor beamed from her eyes such as he had never

seen before, carrying with it the full assurance that Undine bore

him no ill-will. He then rose cheerfully and left her, to join his

friends in the common apartment.

He found the three sitting round the hearth, with an air of anxiety

about them, as if they dared not venture to speak aloud. The priest

seemed to be praying in his inmost spirit that all evil might be

averted. When, however, they saw the young husband come forth so

cheerfully the careworn expression of their faces vanished.

The old fisherman even began to jest with the knight, so pleasantly,

that the aged wife smiled good-humoredly as she listened to them.

Undine at length made her appearance. All rose to meet her and all

stood still with surprise, for the young wife seemed so strange to

them and yet the same. The priest was the first to advance toward

her with paternal arms affection beaming in his face, and, as he

raised his hand to bless her, the beautiful woman sank reverently on

her knees before him. With a few humble and gracious words she

begged him to forgive her for any foolish things she might have said

the evening before, and entreated him in an agitated tone to pray

for the welfare of her soul. She then rose, kissed her foster-parents,

and thanking them for all the goodness they had shown her,

she exclaimed: "Oh! I now feel in my innermost heart, how much, how

infinitely much, you have done for me, dear, kind people!" She could

not at first desist from her caresses, but scarcely had she

perceived that the old woman was busy in preparing breakfast, than

she went to the hearth, cooked and arranged the meal, and would not

suffer the good old mother to take the least trouble.

She continued thus throughout the whole day, quiet, kind, and

attentive--at once a little matron and a tender, bashful girl. The

three who had known her longest expected every moment to see some

whimsical vagary of her capricious spirit burst forth. But they

waited in vain for it. Undine remained as mild and gentle as an

angel. The holy father could not take his eyes from her, and he said

repeatedly to the bridegroom: "The goodness of heaven, sir, has

intrusted a treasure to you yesterday through me, unworthy as I am;

cherish it as you ought, and it will promote your temporal and

eternal welfare."

Toward evening Undine was hanging on the knight's arm with humble

tenderness, and drew him gently out of the door, where the declining

sun was shining pleasantly on the fresh grass, and upon the tall,

slender stems of the trees. The eyes of the young wife were moist,

as with the dew of sadness and love, and a tender and fearful secret

seemed hovering on her lips, which, however, was only disclosed by

scarcely audible sighs. She led her husband onward and onward in

silence; when he spoke, she only answered him with looks, in which,

it is true, there lay no direct reply to his inquiries, but whole

heaven of love and timid devotion. Thus they reached the edge of the

swollen forest stream, and the knight was astonished to see it

rippling along in gentle waves, without a trace of its former

wildness and swell. "By the morning it will be quite dry," said the

beautiful wife, in a regretful tone, "and you can then travel away

wherever you will, without anything to hinder you."

"Not without you, my little Undine," replied the knight, laughing:

"remember, even if I wished to desert you, the church, and the

spiritual powers, and the emperor, and the empire would interpose

and bring the fugitive back again."

"All depends upon you, all depends upon you," whispered his wife,

half-weeping and half-smiling. "I think, however, nevertheless, that

you will keep me with you: I love you so heartily. Now carry me

across to that little island that lies before us. The matter shall

be decided there. I could easily indeed glide through the rippling

waves, but it is so restful in your arms, and if you were to cast me

off, I shall have sweetly rested in them once more for the last

time." Huldbrand, full as he was of strange fear and emotion, knew

not what to reply. He took her in his arms and carried her across,

remembering now for the first time that this was the same little

island from which he had borne her back to the old fisherman on that

first night. On the further side he put her down on the soft grass,

and was on the point of placing himself lovingly near his beautiful

burden, when she said: "No, there opposite to me! I will read my

sentence in your eyes, before your lips speak; now, listen

attentively to what I will relate to you." And she began:--

"You must know, my loved one, that there are beings in the elements

which almost appear like mortals, and which rarely allow themselves

to become visible to your race. Wonderful salamanders glitter and

sport in the flames; lean and malicious gnomes dwell deep within the

earth; spirits, belonging to the air, wander through the forests,

and a vast family of water-spirits live in the lakes, and streams,

and brooks. In resounding domes of crystal, through which the sky

looks in with its sun and stars, these latter spirits find their

beautiful abode; lofty trees of coral with blue and crimson fruits

gleam in their gardens; they wander over the pure sand of the sea,

and among lovely variegated shells, and amid all exquisite treasures

of the old world, which the present is no longer worthy to enjoy;

all these the floods have covered with their secret veils of silver,

and the noble monuments sparkle below, stately and solemn, and

bedewed by the loving waters which allure from them many a beautiful

moss-flower and entwining cluster of sea-grass. Those, however, who

dwell there are very fair and lovely to behold, and for the most

part are more beautiful than human beings. Many a fisherman has been

so fortunate as to surprise some tender mermaid as she rose above

the waters and sang. He would tell afar of her beauty, and such

wonderful beings have been given the name of Undines. You, however,

are now actually beholding an Undine."

The knight tried to persuade himself that his beautiful wife was

under the spell of one of her strange humors, and that she was

taking pleasure in teasing him with one of her extravagant

inventions. But repeatedly as he said this to himself, he could not

believe it for a moment; a strange shudder passed through him;

unable to utter a word, he stared at the beautiful narrator with an

immovable gaze. Undine shook her head sorrowfully, drew a deep sigh,

and then proceeded as follows:--

"Our condition would be far superior to that of other human

beings--for human beings we call ourselves, being similar to them in form

and culture--but there is one evil peculiar to us. We and our like

in the other elements, vanish into dust and pass away, body and

spirit, so that not a vestige of us remains behind; and when you

mortals hereafter awake to a purer life, we remain with the sand and

the sparks and the wind and the waves. Hence we have also no souls;

the element moves us, and is often obedient to us while we live,

though it scatters us to dust when we die; and we are merry, without

having aught to grieve us--merry as the nightingales and the little

gold-fishes and other pretty children of nature. But all things

aspire to be higher than they are. Thus, my father, who is a

powerful water-prince in the Mediterranean Sea, desired that his

only daughter should become possessed of a soul, even though she

must then endure many of the sufferings of those thus endowed. Such

as we are, however, can only obtain a soul by the closest union of

affection with one of your human race. I am now possessed of a soul,

and my soul thanks you, my inexpressibly beloved one, and it will

ever thank you, if you do not make my whole life miserable. For what

is to become of me, if you avoid and reject me? Still, I would not

retain you by deceit. And if you mean to reject me, do so now, and

return alone to the shore. I will dive into this brook, which is my

uncle; and here in the forest, far removed from other friends, he

passes his strange and solitary life. He is, however, powerful, and

is esteemed and beloved by many great streams; and as he brought me

hither to the fisherman, a light-hearted, laughing child, he will

take me back again to my parents, a loving, suffering, and

soul-endowed woman."

She was about to say still more, but Huldbrand embraced her with the

most heartfelt emotion and love, and bore her back again to the

shore. It was not till he reached it, that he swore amid tears and

kisses, never to forsake his sweet wife, calling himself more happy

than the Greek Pygmalion, whose beautiful statue received life from

Venus and became his loved one. In endearing confidence, Undine

walked back to the cottage, leaning on his arm; feeling now for the

first time, with all her heart, how little she ought to regret the

forsaken crystal palaces of her mysterious father.

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