rbed but in one direction. While we kept to this, it was close
upon our heels, but did not thwart us. Having looked round once or
twice, I observed that the white foaming head was placed on a gigantic
body, equally white. I sometimes doubted my first impression, and
thought it merely a waterfall, but I never could satisfy myself that
it was so. Wearily did my horse and I precede this active white
pursuer, who often nodded at us, as if saying, 'That's right! that's
right!' and it ended by our issuing from the wood here, where I
rejoiced to see your lawn, the lake, and this cottage, and where the
long white man vanished."

"Thank Heaven, he is gone," said the old man, and he then proceeded to
consider how his guest could best return to his friends in the city.
Upon this, Undine was heard to laugh in a whisper.

Huldbrand observed it, and said: "I thought you had wished me to stay;
and now you seem pleased when we talk of my going?"

"Because," replied Undine, "you cannot get away. Only try to cross the
swollen brook, in a boat, on horseback, or on foot. Or rather, do not
try, for you would be dashed to pieces by the branches and stones that
it hurls along. And as to the lake, I know how that is: father never
ventures across it in his boat."

Huldbrand laughed, and got up to see whether she had spoken true; the
old man went with him, and the maiden tripped along playfully by their
side. They found she had told them no worse than the truth and the
Knight resigned himself to staying in the island, as it might now be
called till the floods had subsided. As they returned homeward, he
whispered in his pretty companion's ear--"Well, my little Undine! are
you angry at my staying?"

"Ah," said she sullenly, "never mind. If I had not bitten you, who
knows what might have come out in your story of Bertalda?"

V.--OF THE LIFE WHICH THE KNIGHT LED ON THE ISLAND

Has it ever befallen thee, gentle reader, after many ups and downs in
this troublesome world, to alight upon a spot where thou foundest
rest; where the love which is born with us for fireside comfort and
domestic peace, revived in thee; where thou couldst fancy thy early
home with the blossoms of childhood, its pure, heartfelt affection,
and the holy influence breathed from thy fathers' graves, to be
restored to thee--and that it must indeed be "good for thee to be
here, and to build tabernacles?" The charm may have been broken, the
dream dispelled; but that has noth