shudder
when they had taken leave of Bertalda, and were now going home through
the darkening streets.

"Yes, it was he," answered Undine; "and he would have wearied me
with his foolish warnings. But, in the midst, quite contrary to his
intentions, he delighted me with a most welcome piece of news. If you,
my dear lord and husband, wish me to acquaint you with it now, you
need only command me, and I will freely and from my heart tell you all
without reserve. But would you confer upon your Undine a very, very
great pleasure, wait till the day after to-morrow, and then you too
shall have your share of the surprise."

The knight was quite willing to gratify his wife in what she had asked
so sweetly. And even as she was falling asleep, she murmured to herself,
with a smile: "How she will rejoice and be astonished at what her master
of the fountain has told me!--dear, dear Bertalda!"

CHAPTER 6

The company were sitting at dinner. Bertalda, adorned with jewels and
flowers without number, the presents of her foster-parents and friends,
and looking like some goddess of spring, sat beside Undine and Huldbrand
at the head of the table. When the sumptuous repast was ended, and the
dessert was placed before them, permission was given that the doors
should be left open: this was in accordance with the good old custom in
Germany, that the common people might see and rejoice in the festivity
of their superiors. Among these spectators the servants carried round
cake and wine.

Huldbrand and Bertalda waited with secret impatience for the promised
explanation, and hardly moved their eyes from Undine. But she still
continued silent, and merely smiled to herself with secret and heartfelt
satisfaction. All who were made acquainted with the promise she had
given could perceive that she was every moment on the point of revealing
a happy secret; and yet, as children sometimes delay tasting their
choicest dainties, she still withheld the communication. Bertalda and
Huldbrand shared the same delightful feeling, while in anxious hope they
were expecting the unknown disclosure which they were to receive from
the lips of their friend.

At this moment several of the company pressed Undine to sing. This she
seemed pleased at; and ordering her lute to be brought, she sang the
following words:--

"Morning so bright,
Wild-flowers so gay,
Where high grass so dewy