rt and
because he wishes it to move that of others, begs you, dear reader, to
pardon him if he now briefly passes over a considerable space of time,
only cursorily mentioning the events that marked it. He knows well
that he might portray according to the rules of art, step by step, how
Huldbrand's heart began to turn from Undine to Bertalda; how Bertalda
more and more responded with ardent love to the young knight, and how
they both looked upon the poor wife as a mysterious being rather to
be feared than pitied; how Undine wept, and how her tears stung the
knight's heart with remorse without awakening his former love, so that
though he at times was kind and endearing to her, a cold shudder
would soon draw him from her and he would turn to his fellow-mortal,
Bertalda. All this the writer knows might be fully detailed, and
perhaps ought to have been so; but such a task would have been too
painful, for similar things have been known to him by sad experience,
and he shrinks from their shadow even in remembrance. You know
probably a like feeling, dear reader, for such is the lot of mortal
man. Happy are you if you have received rather than inflicted the
pain, for in such things it is more blessed to receive than to give.
If it be so, such recollections will bring only a feeling of sorrow
to your mind, and perhaps a tear will trickle down your cheek over
the faded flowers that once caused you such delight. But let that be
enough. We will not pierce our hearts with a thousand separate things,
but only briefly state, as I have just said, how matters were.

Poor Undine was very sad, and the other two were not to be called
happy. Bertalda, especially, thought that she could trace the effect
of jealousy on the part of the injured wife whenever her wishes
were in any way thwarted. She had therefore habituated herself to an
imperious demeanor, to which Undine yielded in sorrowful submission,
and the now blinded Huldbrand usually encouraged this arrogant
behavior in the strongest manner. But the circumstance that most of
all disturbed the inmates of the castle was a variety of wonderful
apparitions which met Huldbrand and Bertalda in the vaulted galleries
of the castle, and which had never been heard of before as haunting
the locality. The tall white man, in whom Huldbrand recognized only
too plainly Uncle Kuehleborn, and Bertalda the spectral master of the
fountain, often passed before them with a threatening aspect, and
especially