on as they saw Father Heilmann, they rose
eagerly and advanced to meet him. But he, scarcely noticing their
civilities, begged the Knight to come with him into the castle. As he
stared at this request, and hesitated to comply, the pious old Priest
said, "Why, indeed, should I speak to you alone, my Lord of
Ringstetten? What I have to say equally concerns the Fisherman and
Bertalda; and as they must sooner or later know it, it had better be
said now. How can you be certain, Lord Huldbrand, that your own wife
is indeed dead? For myself, I can hardly think so. I will not venture
to speak of things relating to her wondrous nature; in truth I have
no clear knowledge about it. But a godly and faithful wife she proved
herself, beyond all about. And these fourteen nights has she come to
my bedside in dreams, wringing her poor hands in anguish, and sighing
out, 'Oh stop him, dear father! I am yet alive! Oh save his life! Oh
save his soul!' I understood not the meaning of the vision till your
messenger came; and I have now hastened hither, not to join but to
part those hands, which may not be united in holy wedlock. Part from
her, Huldbrand! Part from him, Bertalda! He belongs to another; see
you not how his cheek turns pale at the thought of his departed wife?
Those are not the looks of a bridegroom, and the spirit tells me this.
If thou leavest him not now, there is joy for thee no more." They all
three felt at the bottom of their hearts that Father Heilmann's words
were true but they would not yield to them. Even the old Fisherman was
so blinded as to think that what had been settled between them for so
many days, could not now be relinquished. So they resisted the
Priest's warnings, and urged the fulfilment of their wishes with
headlong, gloomy determination, till Father Heilmann departed with a
melancholy shake of the head, without accepting even for one night
their proffered hospitalities, or tasting any of the refreshments they
set before him. But Huldbrand persuaded himself that the old Priest
was a weak dotard; and early next morning he sent to a monk from the
nearest cloister, who readily promised to come and marry them in a few
days.

XVII.--THE KNIGHT'S DREAM

The morning twilight was beginning to dawn, and the Knight lay
half-awake on his couch. Whenever he dropped asleep he was scared by
mysterious terrors, and started up as if sleep were peopled by
phantoms. If he woke up in earnest, he felt himself fanned all