d your
eyes flash and your voice is angry, and this becomes you well,
though I, in my folly, may sometimes weep at it. But never, I pray
you, behave thus toward me on the water, or even when we are near
it. You see, my relatives would then acquire a right over me. They
would unrelentingly tear me from you in their rage; because they
would imagine that one of their race was injured, and I should be
compelled all my life to dwell below in the crystal palaces, and
should never dare to ascend to you again; or they would send me up
to you--and that, oh God, would be infinitely worse. No, no, my
beloved husband, do not let it come to that, if your poor Undine is
dear to you."

He promised solemnly to do as she desired, and they both returned
from the apartment, full of happiness and affection. At that moment
Bertalda appeared with some workmen, to whom she had already given
orders, and said in a sullen tone, which she had assumed of late: "I
suppose the secret conference is at an end, and now the stone may be
removed. Go out, workmen, and attend to it."

But the knight, angry at her impertinence, desired in short and very
decisive words that the stone should be left: he reproved Bertalda,
too, for her violence toward his wife. Whereupon the workmen
withdrew, smiling with secret satisfaction: while Bertalda, pale
with rage, hurried away to her room.

The hour for the evening repast arrived, and Bertalda they waited for
in vain. They sent after her, but the domestic found her apartments
empty, and only brought back with him a sealed letter addressed to
the knight. He opened it with alarm, and read: "I feel with shame
that I am only a poor fisher-girl. I will expiate my fault in having
forgotten this for a moment by going to the miserable cottage of my
parents. Farewell to you and your beautiful wife."

Undine was heartily distressed. She earnestly entreated Huldbrand to
hasten after their friend and bring her back again. Alas! she had no
need to urge him. His affection for Bertalda burst forth again with
vehemence. He hurried round the castle, inquiring if any one had
seen which way the fugitive had gone. He could learn nothing of her,
and he was already on his horse in the castle-yard, resolved at a
venture to take the road by which he had brought Bertalda hither.
Just then a page appeared, who assured him that he had met the lady
on the path to the Black Valley. Like an arrow the knight sprang
through the gateway in the