THE JOURNEY TO VIENNA.
After this last adventure, they lived quietly and happily at the
castle. The knight more and more perceived the heavenly goodness of
his wife, which had been so nobly exhibited by her pursuit, and by
her rescue of them in the Black Valley, where Kuhleborn's power
again commenced; Undine herself felt that peace and security, which
is never lacking to a mind so long as it is distinctly conscious of
being on the right path, and besides, in the newly-awakened love and
esteem of her husband, many a gleam of hope and joy shone upon her.
Bertalda, on the other hand, showed herself grateful, humble and
timid, without regarding her conduct as anything meritorious.
Whenever Huldbrand or Undine were about to give her any explanation
regarding the covering of the fountain or the adventure in the Black
Valley, she would earnestly entreat them to spare her the recital,
as she felt too much shame at the recollection of the fountain, and
too much fear at the remembrance of the Black Valley. She learned
therefore nothing further of either; and for what end was such
knowledge necessary? Peace and joy had visibly taken up their abode
at castle Ringstetten. They felt secure on this point, and imagined
that life could now produce nothing but pleasant flowers and fruits.
In this happy condition of things, winter had come and passed away,
and spring, with its fresh green shoots and its blue sky, was
gladdening the joyous inmates of the castle. Spring was in harmony
with them, and they with spring. What wonder then, that its storks
and swallows inspired them also with a desire to travel? One day
when they were taking a pleasant walk to one of the sources of the
Danube, Huldbrand spoke of the magnificence of the noble river, and
how it widened as it flowed through countries fertilized by its
waters, how the charming city of Vienna shone forth on its banks,
and how with every step of its course it increased in power and
loveliness.
"It must be glorious to go down the river as far as Vienna!"
exclaimed Bertalda, but immediately relapsing into her present
modesty and humility, she paused and blushed deeply.
This touched Undine deeply, and with the liveliest desire to give
pleasure to her friend, she said: "What hinders us from starting on
the little voyage?"
Bertalda exhibited the greatest delight, and both she and Undine
began at once to picture the tour of the Danube in the brightest
colors. Huldbrand also gladly agreed to the prospect; only he once
whispered anxiously in Undine's ear,--
"But Kuhleborn becomes possessed of his power again out there!"
"Let him come," she replied with a smile, "I shall be there, and he
ventures upon none of his mischief before me." The last impediment
was thus removed; they prepared for the journey, and soon after set
out upon it with fresh spirits and the brightest hopes.
But wonder not, oh man, if events always turn out different to what
we have intended. That malicious power, lurking for our destruction,
gladly lulls its chosen victim to sleep with sweet songs and golden
delusions; while on the other hand the rescuing messenger from
Heaven often knocks sharply and alarmingly at our door.
During the first few days of their voyage down the Danube they were
extremely happy. Everything grew more and more beautiful as they
sailed further and further down the proudly flowing stream. But in a
region otherwise so pleasant, and in the enjoyment of which they had
promised themselves the purest delight, the ungovernable Kuhleborn
began, undisguisedly, to exhibit his power of interference. This was
indeed manifested in mere teasing tricks, for Undine often rebuked
the agitated waves, or the contrary winds, and then the violence of
the enemy would be immediately humbled; but again the attacks would
be renewed, and again Undine's reproofs would become necessary, so
that the pleasure of the little party was completely destroyed. The
boatmen too were continually whispering to each other in dismay, and
looking with distrust at the three strangers, whose servants even
began more and more to forebode something uncomfortable, and to
watch their superiors with suspicious glances. Huldbrand often said
to himself: "This comes from like not being linked with like, from a
man uniting himself with a mermaid!" Excusing himself as we all love
to do, he would often think indeed as he said this: "I did not
really know that she was a sea-maiden, mine is the misfortune, that
every step I take is disturbed and haunted by the wild caprices of
her race, but mine is not the fault." By thoughts such as these, he
felt himself in some measure strengthened, but on the other hand, he
felt increasing ill-humor, and almost animosity toward Undine. He
would look at her with an expression of anger, the meaning of which
the poor wife understood well. Wearied with this exhibition of
displeasure, and exhausted by the constant effort to frustrate
Kuhleborn's artifices, she sank one evening into a deep slumber,
rocked soothingly by the softly gliding bark.
Scarcely, however, had she closed her eyes than every one in the
vessel imagined he saw, in whatever direction he turned, a most
horrible human head; it rose out of the waves, not like that of a
person swimming, but perfectly perpendicular as if invisibly
supported upright on the watery surface, and floating along in the
same course with the bark. Each wanted to point out to the other the
cause of his alarm, but each found the same expression of horror
depicted on the face of his neighbor, only that his hands and eyes
were directed to a different point where the monster, half-laughing
and half-threatening, rose before him. When, however, they all
wished to make each other understand what each saw, and all were
crying out: "Look there! No, there!" the horrible heads all at one
and the same time appeared to their view, and the whole river around
the vessel swarmed with the most hideous apparitions. The universal
cry raised at the sight awoke Undine. As she opened her eyes, the
wild crowd of distorted visages disappeared. But Huldbrand was
indignant at such unsightly jugglery. He would have burst forth in
uncontrolled imprecations had not Undine said to him with a humble
manner and a softly imploring tone: "For God's sake, my husband, we
are on the water, do not be angry with me now."
The knight was silent, and sat down absorbed in revery. Undine
whispered in his ear: "Would it not be better, my love, if we gave
up this foolish journey, and returned to castle Ringstetten in
peace?"
But Huldbrand murmured moodily: "So I must be a prisoner in my own
castle, and only be able to breathe so long as the fountain is
closed! I would your mad kindred"--Undine lovingly pressed her fair
hand upon his lips. He paused, pondering in silence over much that
Undine had before said to him.
Bertalda had meanwhile given herself up to a variety of strange
thoughts. She knew a good deal of Undine's origin, and yet not the
whole, and the fearful Kuhleborn especially had remained to her a
terrible but wholly unrevealed mystery. She had indeed never even
heard his name. Musing on these strange things, she unclasped,
scarcely conscious of the act, a gold necklace, which Huldbrand had
lately purchased for her of a travelling trader; half dreamingly she
drew it along the surface of the water, enjoying the light glimmer
it cast upon the evening-tinted stream. Suddenly a huge hand was
stretched out of the Danube, it seized the necklace and vanished
with it beneath the waters. Bertalda screamed aloud, and a scornful
laugh resounded from the depths of the stream. The knight could now
restrain his anger no longer. Starting up, he inveighed against the
river; he cursed all who ventured to interfere with his family and
his life, and challenged them, be they spirits or sirens, to show
themselves before his avenging sword.
Bertalda wept meanwhile for her lost ornament, which was so precious
to her, and her tears added fuel to the flame of the knight's anger,
while Undine held her hand over the side of the vessel, dipping it
into the water, softly murmuring to herself, and only now and then
interrupting her strange mysterious whisper, as she entreated her
husband: "My dearly loved one, do not scold me here; reprove others
if you will, but not me here. You know why!" And indeed, he
restrained the words of anger that were trembling on his tongue.
Presently in her wet hand which she had been holding under the
waves, she brought up a beautiful coral necklace of so much
brilliancy that the eyes of all were dazzled by it.
"Take this," said she, holding it out kindly to Bertalda; "I have
ordered this to be brought for you as a compensation, and don't be
grieved any more, my poor child."
But the knight sprang between them. He tore the beautiful ornament
from Undine's hand, hurled it again into the river, exclaiming in
passionate rage: "Have you then still a connection with them? In the
name of all the witches, remain among them with your presents, and
leave us mortals in peace, you sorceress!"
Poor Undine gazed at him with fixed but tearful eyes, her hand still
stretched out, as when she had offered her beautiful present so
lovingly to Bertalda. She then began to weep more and more
violently, like a dear innocent child bitterly afflicted. At last,
wearied out she said:
"Alas, sweet friend, alas! farewell! They shall do you no harm; only
remain true, so that I may be able to keep them from you. I must,
alas! go away; I must go hence at this early stage of life. Oh woe,
woe! what have you done! Oh woe, woe!"
She vanished over the side of the vessel. Whether she plunged into
the stream, or flowed away with it, they knew not; her disappearance
was like both and neither. Soon, however, she was completely lost
sight of in the Danube; only a few little waves kept whispering, as
if sobbing, round the boat, and they almost seemed to be saying: "Oh
woe, woe! oh remain true! oh woe!"
Huldbrand lay on the deck of the vessel, bathed in hot tears, and a
deep swoon soon cast its veil of forgetfulness over the unhappy man.