d opening it called out in an angry voice, 'Undine, cease these
childish tricks. A stranger, and he a knight, is in our cottage.'

A low laugh answered him. Hearing it, the old man shut the window and
sat down again, saying to his guest, 'Sir Knight, forgive this rude
behaviour. Undine my foster-daughter is still only a child, although
she is now nearly eighteen years of age. Yet her tricks are harmless,
and she herself is full of kindness.'

'Ah,' said the old woman to her husband, 'to you, who are not with her
save when the day's work is over, her pranks may seem harmless. But
you would not talk so lightly of her ways were she by your side all
day. Ever I must watch her, lest she spoil my baking, or undo my
spinning or burn the soup. Nay--'

'It is true,' said the old man, interrupting his wife with a smile,
'it is true that you have the maiden by your side throughout the
livelong day, while I have but the sea. Yet when the sea is rough and
breaks down my dykes I do not love it the less. Even so do you love
the little one no less for all her tricks and tiresome ways.'

The old woman turned to her guest. 'Indeed, Sir Knight, he speaks
truly. It is not possible to be angry with the maiden long.'

At that moment the door flew open, and she, the maiden of whom they
spoke, entered the little kitchen. She was fairer far than any one the
knight had ever seen.

'Father,' she cried, 'where is he, the stranger guest?'

Even as she spoke her eyes fell on the knight, who had sprung to his
feet as she entered the cottage. He stood gazing in wonder at the
marvellous beauty of the maiden.

But before he could greet her, she was at his side, trustingly looking
up into his face. Then kneeling before him, she seized his hand and
made him seat himself again on the broken old stool.

'You are beautiful, Sir Knight,' she said, 'but how did you come to
this little cottage? Have you looked for us long before you could find
us? Have you had to pass through the terrible forest ere you could
reach us, Sir Knight?'

The knight would have told the maiden the story of his adventures in
the wood, but Undine's foster-mother was already speaking, and her
tones were loud and angry.

'Go, maiden, go get you to work, and trouble not the stranger with
your questions.'

Then Undine, unashamed, drew a little footstool near to Huldbrand, and
sitting down to her spinning, cried, 'I shall work here, close to the
beautiful knight.'

The old f