Undine
being is man! Suppose the worst to happen; our state would not be
different; at any rate, your own would not, dear wife, from what it is
at present. For have you, these many years, been farther from home than
the border of the forest? And have you seen a single human being beside
Undine and myself? It is now only a short time since the coming of the
knight and the priest. They will remain with us, even if we do become a
forgotten island; so after all you will be a gainer.”
“I know not,” replied the ancient dame; “it is a dismal thought, when
brought fairly home to the mind, that we are for ever separated from
mankind, even though in fact we never do know nor see them.”
“Then YOU will remain with us--then you will remain with us!” whispered
Undine, in a voice scarcely audible and half singing, while she nestled
closer to Huldbrand’s side. But he was immersed in the deep and strange
musings of his own mind. The region, on the farther side of the
forest river, seemed, since the last words of the priest, to have been
withdrawing farther and farther, in dim perspective, from his view; and
the blooming island on which he lived grew green and smiled more freshly
in his fancy. His bride glowed like the fairest rose, not of this
obscure nook only, but even of the whole wide world; and the priest was
now present.
Added to which, the mistress of the family was directing an angry glance
at Undine, because, even in the presence of the priest, she leant
so fondly on the knight; and it seemed as if she was on the point
of breaking out in harsh reproof. Then burst forth from the mouth of
Huldbrand, as he turned to the priest, “Father, you here see before you
an affianced pair; and if this maiden and these good old people have no
objection, you shall unite us this very evening.”
The aged couple were both exceedingly surprised. They had often, it is
true, thought of this, but as yet they had never mentioned it; and now,
when the knight spoke, it came upon them like something wholly new and
unexpected. Undine became suddenly grave, and looked down thoughtfully,
while the priest made inquiries respecting the circumstances of their
acquaintance, and asked the old people whether they gave their consent
to the union. After a great number of questions and answers, the affair
was arranged to the satisfaction of all; and the mistress of the house
went to prepare the bridal apartment of the young couple, and also,
with a view to grace the nuptial solemnity, to seek for two consecrated
tapers, which she had for a long time kept by her, for this occasion.
The knight in the meanwhile busied himself about his golden chain,
for the purpose of disengaging two of its links, that he might make
an exchange of rings with his bride. But when she saw his object, she
started from her trance of musing, and exclaimed--
“Not so! my parents by no means sent me into the world so perfectly
destitute; on the contrary, they foresaw, even at that early period,
that such a night as this would come.”
Thus speaking she went out of the room, and a moment after returned with
two costly rings, of which she gave one to her bridegroom, and kept the
other for herself. The old fisherman was beyond measure astonished at
this; and his wife, who was just re-entering the room, was even more
surprised than he, that neither of them had ever seen these jewels in
the child’s possession.
“My parents,” said Undine, “sewed these trinkets to that beautiful
raiment which I wore the very day I came to you. They also charged me
on no account whatever to mention them to any one before my wedding
evening. At the time of my coming, therefore, I took them off in secret,
and have kept them concealed to the present hour.”
The priest now cut short all further questioning and wondering, while he
lighted the consecrated tapers, placed them on a table, and ordered the
bridal pair to stand opposite to him. He then pronounced the few solemn
words of the ceremony, and made them one. The elder couple gave the
younger their blessing; and the bride, gently trembling and thoughtful,
leaned upon the knight.
The priest then spoke out: “You are strange people, after all; for why
did you tell me that you were the only inhabitants of the island? So far
is this from being true, I have seen, the whole time I was performing
the ceremony, a tall, stately man, in a white mantle, standing opposite
to me, looking in at the window. He must be still waiting before the
door, if peradventure you would invite him to come in.”
“God forbid!” cried the old lady, shrinking back; the fisherman shook
his head, without opening his lips; and Huldbrand sprang to the window.
It seemed to him that he could still discern a white streak, which soon
disappeared in the gloom. He convinced the priest that he must have
been mistaken in his impression; and they all sat down together round a
bright and comfortable hearth.
CHAPTER 4
Before the nuptial ceremony, and during its performance, Undine had
shown a modest gentleness and maidenly reserve; but it now seemed as if
all the wayward freaks that effervesced within her burst forth with
an extravagance only the more bold and unrestrained. She teased her
bridegroom, her foster-parents, and even the priest, whom she had just
now revered so highly, with all sorts of childish tricks; but when the
ancient dame was about to reprove her too frolicsome spirit, the knight,
in a few words, imposed silence upon her by speaking of Undine as his
wife.
The knight was himself, indeed, just as little pleased with Undine’s
childish behaviour as the rest; but all his looks and half-reproachful
words were to no purpose. It is true, whenever the bride observed the
dissatisfaction of her husband--and this occasionally happened--she
became more quiet, placed herself beside him, stroked his face with
caressing fondness, whispered something smilingly in his ear, and in
this manner smoothed the wrinkles that were gathering on his brow.
But the moment after, some wild whim would make her resume her antic
movements; and all went worse than before.
The priest then spoke in a kind although serious tone: “My fair young
maiden, surely no one can look on you without pleasure; but remember
betimes so to attune your soul that it may produce a harmony ever in
accordance with the soul of your wedded bridegroom.”
“SOUL!” cried Undine with a laugh. “What you say has a remarkably
pretty sound; and for most people, too, it may be a very instructive and
profitable caution. But when a person has no soul at all, how, I pray
you, can such attuning be then possible? And this, in truth, is just my
condition.”
The priest was much hurt, but continued silent in holy displeasure, and
turned away his face from the maiden in sorrow. She, however, went up to
him with the most winning sweetness, and said:
“Nay, I entreat you first listen to me, before you are angry with me;
for your anger is painful to me, and you ought not to give pain to a
creature that has not hurt you. Only have patience with me, and I will
explain to you every word of what I meant.”
It was evident that she had come to say something important; when she
suddenly faltered as if seized with inward shuddering, and burst into
a passion of tears. They were none of them able to understand the
intenseness of her feelings; and, with mingled emotions of fear and
anxiety, they gazed on her in silence. Then, wiping away her tears, and
looking earnestly at the priest, she at last said:
“There must be something lovely, but at the same time something most
awful, about a soul. In the name of God, holy man, were it not better
that we never shared a gift so mysterious?”
Again she paused, and restrained her tears, as if waiting for an answer.
All in the cottage had risen from their seats, and stepped back from her
with horror. She, however, seemed to have eyes for no one but the holy
man; an awful curiosity was painted on her features, which appeared
terrible to the others.
“Heavily must the soul weigh down its possessor,” she pursued, when no
one returned her any answer--“very heavily! for already its approaching
image overshadows me with anguish and mourning. And, alas, I have till
now been so merry and light-hearted!” and she burst into another flood
of tears, and covered her face with her veil.
The priest, going up to her with a solemn look, now addressed himself
to her, and conjured her, by the name of God most holy, if any spirit of
evil possessed her, to remove the light covering from her face. But
she sank before him on her knees, and repeated after him every sacred
expression he uttered, giving praise to God, and protesting “that she
wished well to the whole world.”
The priest then spoke to the knight: “Sir bridegroom, I leave you
alone with her whom I have united to you in marriage. So far as I can
discover, there is nothing of evil in her, but assuredly much that is
wonderful. What I recommend to you is--prudence, love, and fidelity.”
Thus speaking, he left the apartment; and the fisherman, with his wife,
followed him, crossing themselves.
Undine had sunk upon her knees. She uncovered her face, and exclaimed,
while she looked fearfully round upon Huldbrand, “Alas! you will now
refuse to look upon me as your own; and still I have done nothing evil,
poor unhappy child that I am!” She spoke these words with a look so
infinitely sweet and touching, that her bridegroom forgot both the
confession that had shocked, and the mystery that had perplexed him;
and hastening to her, he raised her in his arms. She smiled through her
tears; and that smile was like the morning light playing upon a small
stream. “You cannot desert me!” she whispered confidingly, and stroked
the knight’s cheeks with her little soft hands. He turned away from the
frightful thoughts that still lurked in the recesses of his soul,
and were persuading him that he had been married to a fairy, or some
spiteful and mischievous being of the spirit-world. Only the single
question, and that almost unawares, escaped from his lips.
“Dearest Undine, tell me this one thing: what was it you meant by
‘spirits of earth’ and ‘Kuhleborn,’ when the priest stood knocking at
the door?”
“Tales! mere tales of children!” answered Undine, laughing, now quite
restored to her wonted gaiety. “I first frightened you with them, and
you frightened me. This is the end of the story, and of our nuptial
evening.”
“Nay, not so,” replied the enamoured knight, extinguishing the tapers,
and a thousand times kissing his beautiful and beloved bride; while,
lighted by the moon that shone brightly through the windows, he bore her
into their bridal apartment.
The fresh light of morning woke the young married pair: but Huldbrand
lay lost in silent reflection. Whenever, during the night, he had fallen
asleep, strange and horrible dreams of spectres had disturbed him; and
these shapes, grinning at him by stealth, strove to disguise themselves
as beautiful females; and from beautiful females they all at once
assumed the appearance of dragons. And when he started up, aroused by
the intrusion of these hideous forms, the moonlight shone pale and cold
before the windows without. He looked affrighted at Undine, in whose
arms he had fallen asleep: and she was reposing in unaltered beauty and
sweetness beside him. Then pressing her rosy lips with a light kiss, he
again fell into a slumber, only to be awakened by new terrors.
When fully awake, he had thought over this connection. He reproached
himself for any doubt that could lead him into error in regard to his
lovely wife. He also confessed to her his injustice; but she only gave
him her fair hand, sighed deeply, and remained silent. Yet a glance of
fervent tenderness, an expression of the soul beaming in her eyes, such