CHAPTER XI.
THE ANNIVERSARY OF BERTALDA'S NAME-DAY.
The company were sitting at dinner; Bertalda, looking like somegoddess of spring with her flowers and jewels, the presents of herfoster-parents and friends, was placed between Undine and Huldbrand.When the rich repast was ended, and the last course had appeared,the doors were left open, according to a good old German custom,that the common people might look on, and take part in the festivityof the nobles. Servants were carrying round cake and wine among thespectators. Huldbrand and Bertalda were waiting with secretimpatience for the promised explanation, and sat with their eyesfixed steadily on Undine. But the beautiful wife still continuedsilent, and only kept smiling to herself with secret and heartysatisfaction. All who knew of the promise she had given could seethat she was every moment on the point of betraying her happysecret, and that it was with a sort of longing renunciation that shewithheld it, just as children sometimes delay the enjoyment of theirchoicest morsels. Bertalda and Huldbrand shared this delightfulfeeling, and expected with fearful hope the tidings which were tofall from the lips of Undine. Several of the company pressed Undineto sing. The request seemed opportune, and ordering her lute to bebrought, she sang the following words:--
Bright opening day, Wild flowers so gay, Tall grasses their thirst that slake, On the banks of the billowy lake!
What glimmers there so shining The reedy growth entwining? Is it a blossom white as snow Fallen from heav'n here below?
It is an infant, frail and dear! With flowerets playing in its dreams And grasping morning's golden beams; Oh! whence, sweet stranger, art thou here?
From some far-off and unknown strand, The lake has borne thee to this land.
Nay, grasp not tender little one, With thy tiny hand outspread; No hand will meet thy touch with love, Mute is that flowery bed.
The flowers can deck themselves so fair And breathe forth fragrance blest, Yet none can press thee to itself, Like that far-off mother's breast.
So early at the gate of life, With smiles of heav'n on thy brow, Thou hast the best of treasures lost, Poor wand'ring child, nor know'st it now.
A noble duke comes riding by, And near thee checks his courser's speed, And full of ardent chivalry He bears thee home upon his steed.
Much, endless much, has been thy gain! Thou bloom'st the fairest in the land! Yet ah! the priceless joy of all, Thou'st left upon an unknown strand.
Undine dropped her lute with a melancholy smile, and the eyes ofBertalda's foster-parents were filled with tears. "Yes, so it was onthe morning that I found you, my poor sweet orphan," said the duke,deeply agitated; "the beautiful singer is certainly right; we havenot been able to give you that `priceless joy of all.'"
"But we must also hear how it fared with the poor parents," saidUndine, as she resumed her lute, and sang:--
Thro' every chamber roams the mother, Moves and searches everywhere, Seeks, she scarce knows what, with sadness, And finds an empty house is there.
An empty house! Oh, word of sorrow, To her who once had been so blest, Who led her child about by day And cradled it at night to rest.
The beech is growing green again, The sunshine gilds its wonted spot, But mother, cease thy searching vain! Thy little loved one cometh not.
And when the breath of eve blows cool, And father in his home appears, The smile he almost tries to wear Is quenched at once by gushing tears.
Full well he knows that in his home He naught can find but wild despair, He hears the mother's grieved lament And no bright infant greets him there.
"Oh! for God's sake, Undine, where are my parents?" cried the weepingBertalda; "you surely know; you have discovered them, you wonderfulbeing, for otherwise you would not have thus torn me heart. Are theyperhaps already here? Can it be?" Her eye passed quickly over thebrilliant company and lingered on a lady of high rank who wassitting next her foster-father. Undine, however, turned toward thedoor, while her eyes overflowed with the sweetest emotion. "Whereare the poor waiting parents?" she inquired, and, the old fishermanand his wife advanced hesitatingly from the crowd of spectators.Their glance rested inquiringly now on Undine, now on the beautifulgirl who was said to be their daughter "It is she," said thedelighted benefactress, in a faltering tone, and the two old peoplehung round the neck of their recovered child, weeping and praisingGod.
But amazed and indignant, Bertalda tore herself from their embrace.Such a recognition was too much for this proud mind, at a momentwhen she had surely imagined that her former splendor would even beincreased, and when hope was deluding her with a vision of almostroyal honors. It seemed to her as if her rival had devised all thison purpose signally to humble her before Huldbrand and the wholeworld. She reviled Undine, she reviled the old people, and bitterinvectives, such as "deceiver" and "bribed impostors," fell from herlips. Then the old fisherman's wife said in a low voice to herself:"Ah me, she is become a wicked girl; and yet I feel in my heart thatshe is my child."
The old fisherman, however, had folded his hands, and was prayingsilently that this might not be his daughter. Undine, pale as death,turned with agitation from the parents to Bertalda, and fromBertalda to the parents; suddenly cast down from that heaven ofhappiness of which she had dreamed, and overwhelmed with a fear anda terror such as she had never known even in imagination. "Have youa soul? Have you really a soul, Bertalda?" she cried again and againto her angry friend, as if forcibly to rouse her to consciousnessfrom some sudden delirium or maddening nightmare. But when Bertaldaonly became more and more enraged, when the repulsed parents beganto weep aloud, and the company, in eager dispute, were takingdifferent sides, she begged in such a dignified and serious mannerto be allowed to speak in this her husband's hall, that all aroundwere in a moment silenced. She then advanced to the upper end of thetable, where Bertalda has seated herself, and with a modest and yetproud air, while every eye was fixed upon her, she spoke asfollows:--
"My friends, you look so angry and disturbed and you haveinterrupted my happy feast by your disputings. Ah! I knew nothing ofyour foolish habits and your heartless mode of thinking, and I shallnever all my life long become accustomed to them. It is not my faultthat this affair has resulted in evil; believe me, the fault is withyourselves alone, little as it may appear to you to be so. I havetherefore but little to say to you, but one thing I must say: I havespoken nothing but truth. I neither can nor will give you proofsbeyond my own assertion, but I will swear to the truth of this. Ireceived this information from the very person who allured Bertaldainto the water, away from her parents, and who afterward placed heron the green meadow in the duke's path."
"She is an enchantress!" cried Bertalda, "a witch, who hasintercourse with evil spirits. She acknowledges it herself."
"I do not," said Undine, with a whole heaven innocence andconfidence beaming, in her eyes. "I am no witch; only look at me."
"She is false and boastful," interrupted Bertalda, "and she cannotprove that I am the child of these low people. My noble parents, Ibeg you to take me from this company and out of this city, wherethey are only bent on insulting me."
But the aged and honorable duke remained unmoved, and his wife,said: "We must thoroughly examine how we are to act. God forbid thatwe should move a step from this hall until we have done so."
Then the old wife of the fisherman drew near, and making a lowreverence to the duchess, she said: "Noble, god-fearing lady, youhave opened my heart. I must tell you, if this evil-disposed younglady is my daughter, she has a mark, like a violet, between hershoulders, and another like it on the instep of her left foot. Ifshe would only go out of the hall with me!"
"I shall not uncover myself before the peasant woman!" exclaimedBertalda, proudly turning her back on her.
"But before me you will." rejoined the duchess, very gravely."Follow me into that room, girl, and the good old woman shall comewith us." The three d
isappeared, and the rest of the companyremained where they were, in silent expectation. After a short timethey returned; Bertalda was pale as death. "Right is right." saidthe duchess; "I must therefore declare that our hostess has spokenperfect, truth. Bertalda is the fisherman's daughter, and that is asmuch as it is necessary to inform you here."
The princely pair left with their adopted daughter; and at a signfrom the duke, the fisherman and his wife followed them. The otherguests retired in silence or with secret murmurs, and Undine sankweeping into Huldbrand's arms.