HOW THEY DEPARTED FROM THE IMPERIAL CITY.
The lord of Ringstetten would have certainly preferred the events of
this day to have been different; but even as they were, he could
scarcely regret them wholly, as they had exhibited his charming wife
under such a good and sweet and kindly aspect. "If I have given her
a soul," he could not help saying to himself, "I have indeed given
her a better one than my own;" and his only thought now was to speak
soothingly to the weeping Undine, and on the following morning to
quit with her a place which, after this incident, must have become
distasteful to her. It is true that she was not estimated
differently to what she had been. As something mysterious had long
been expected of her, the strange discovery of Bertalda's origin had
caused no great surprise, and every one who had heard the story and
had seen Bertalda's violent behavior, was disgusted with her alone.
Of this, however, the knight and his lady knew nothing as yet; and,
besides, the condemnation or approval of the public was equally
painful to Undine, and thus there was no better course to pursue
than to leave the walls of the old city behind them with all the
speed possible.
With the earliest beams of morning a pretty carriage drove up to the
entrance gate for Undine: the horses which Huldbrand and his squires
were to ride stood near, pawing the ground with impatient eagerness.
The knight was leading his beautiful wife from the door, when a
fisher-girl crossed their way. "We do not need your fish," said
Huldbrand to her, "we are now starting on our journey." Upon this
the fisher-girl began to weep bitterly, and the young couple
perceived for the first time that it was Bertalda. They immediately
returned with her to their apartment, and learned from her that the
duke and duchess were so displeased at her violent and unfeeling
conduct on the preceding way, that they had entirely withdrawn their
protection from her, though not without giving her a rich portion.
The fisherman, too, had been handsomely rewarded, and had the
evening before set out with his wife to return to their secluded
home.
"I would have gone with them," she continued, "but the old
fisherman, who is said to be my father"--
"And he is so indeed, Bertalda," interrupted Undine. "Look here, the
stranger, whom you took for the master of the fountain, told me the
whole story in detail. He wished to dissuade me from taking you with
me to castle Ringstetten, and this led him to disclose the secret."
"Well, then," said Bertalda, "if it must be so, my father said, 'I
will not take you with me until you are changed. Venture to come to
us alone through the haunted forest; that shall be the proof whether
you have any regard for us. But do not come to me as a lady; come
only as a fisher-girl!' So I will do just as he has told me, for I
am forsaken by the whole world, and I will live and die in solitude
as a poor fisher-girl, with my poor parents. I have a terrible dread
though of the forest. Horrible spectres are said to dwell in it, and
I am so fearful. But how can I help it? I only came here to implore
pardon of the noble lady of Ringstetten for my unbecoming behavior
yesterday. I feel sure, sweet lady, you meant to do me a kindness,
but you knew not how you would wound me, and in my agony and
surprise, many a rash and frantic expression passed my lips. Oh
forgive, forgive! I am already so unhappy. Only think yourself what
I was yesterday morning, yesterday at the beginning of your banquet,
and what I am now!"
Her voice became stifled with a passionate flood of tears, and
Undine, also weeping bitterly, fell on her neck. It was some time
before the deeply agitated Undine could utter a word; at length she
said:--
"You can go with us to Ringstetten; everything shall remain as it
was arranged before; only do not speak to me again as 'noble lady.'
You see, we were exchanged for each other as children; our faces
even then sprang as it were from the same stem, and we will now so
strengthen this kindred destiny that no human power shall be able to
separate it. Only, first of all, come with us to Ringstetten. We
will discuss there how we shall share all things as sisters."
Bertalda looked timidly toward Huldbrand. He pitied the beautiful
girl in her distress, and offering her his hand he begged her
tenderly to intrust herself with him and his wife. "We will send a
message to your parents," he continued, "to tell them why you are
not come;" and he would have added more with regard to the worthy
fisherman and his wife, but he saw that Bertalda shrunk with pain
from the mention of their name, and he therefore refrained from
saying more.
He then assisted her first into the carriage, Undine followed her;
and he mounted his horse and trotted merrily by the side of them,
urging the driver at the same time to hasten his speed, so that very
soon they were beyond the confines of the imperial city and all its
sad remembrances; and now the ladies began to enjoy the beautiful
country through which their road lay.
After a journey of some days, they arrived one exquisite evening, at
castle Ringstetten. The young knight had much to hear from his
overseers and vassals, so that Undine and Bertalda were left alone.
They both repaired to the ramparts of the fortress, and were
delighted with the beautiful landscape which spread far and wide
through fertile Swabia.
Presently a tall man approached them, greeting them respectfully,
and Bertalda fancied she saw a resemblance to the master of the
fountain in the imperial city. Still more unmistakable grew the
likeness, when Undine angrily and almost threateningly waved him
off, and he retreated with hasty steps and shaking head, as he had
done before, and disappeared into a neighboring copse. Undine,
however, said:
"Don't be afraid, dear Bertalda, this time the hateful master of the
fountain shall do you no harm." And then she told her the whole
story in detail, and who she was herself, and how Bertalda had been
taken away from the fisherman and his wife, and Undine had gone to
them. The girl was at first terrified with this relation; she
imagined her friend must be seized with sudden madness, but she
became more convinced that all was true, for Undine's story was so
connected, and fitted so well with former occurrences, and still
more she had that inward feeling with which truth never fails to
make itself known to us. It seemed strange to her that she was now
herself living, as it were, in the midst of one of those fairy tales
to which she had formerly only listened.
She gazed upon Undine with reverence, but she could not resist a
sense of dread that seemed to come between her and her friend, and
at their evening repast she could not but wonder how the knight
could behave so lovingly and kindly toward a being who appeared to
her, since the discovery she had just made, more of a phantom than a
human being.