e dismissed his attendants. Half-undressed
and in deep dejection, he was standing before a large mirror, a wax
taper burned dimly beside him. At this moment some one tapped at his
door very, very softly. Undine had formerly tapped in this way, when she
was playing some of her endearing wiles.

"It is all an illusion!" said he to himself. "I must to my nuptial bed."

"You must indeed, but to a cold one!" he heard a voice, choked with
sobs, repeat from without; and then he saw in the mirror, that the door
of his room was slowly, slowly opened, and the white figure entered, and
gently closed it behind her.

"They have opened the spring," said she in a low tone; "and now I am
here, and you must die."

He felt, in his failing breath, that this must indeed be; but covering
his eyes with his hands, he cried: "Do not in my death-hour, do not make
me mad with terror. If that veil conceals hideous features, do not lift
it! Take my life, but let me not see you."

"Alas!" replied the pale figure, "will you not then look upon me once
more? I am as fair now as when you wooed me on the island!"

"Oh, if it indeed were so," sighed Huldbrand, "and that I might die by a
kiss from you!"

"Most willingly, my own love," said she. She threw back her veil;
heavenly fair shone forth her pure countenance. Trembling with love and
the awe of approaching death, the knight leant towards her. She kissed
him with a holy kiss; but she relaxed not her hold, pressing him more
closely in her arms, and weeping as if she would weep away her soul.
Tears rushed into the knight's eyes, while a thrill both of bliss and
agony shot through his heart, until he at last expired, sinking softly
back from her fair arms upon the pillow of his couch a corpse.

"I have wept him to death!" said she to some domestics, who met her
in the ante-chamber; and passing through the terrified group, she went
slowly out, and disappeared in the fountain.

CHAPTER 10

Father Heilmann had returned to the castle as soon as the death of the
lord of Ringstetten was made known in the neighbourhood; and he arrived
at the very hour when the monk who had married the unfortunate couple
was hurrying from the door, overcome with dismay and horror.

When Father Heilmann was informed of this, he replied, "It is all well;
and now come the duties of my office, in which I have no need of an
assistant."

He then began to console the bride, now a widow though with little
benef