CHAPTER V.
HOW THE KNIGHT LIVED ON THE LITTLE PROMONTORY.
After having been much driven to and fro in the world, you haveperhaps, my dear reader, reached at length some spot where all waswell with thee; where the love for home and its calm peace, innateto all, has again sprung up within thee; where thou hast thoughtthat this home was rich with all the flowers of childhood and of thepurest, deepest love that rests upon the graves of those that aregone, and thou hast felt it must be good to dwell here and to buildhabitations. Even if thou hast erred in this, and hast had afterwardbitterly to atone for the error, that is nothing to the purpose now,and thou wouldst not, indeed, voluntarily sadden thyself with theunpleasant recollection. But recall that inexpressibly sweetforeboding, that angelic sense of peace, and thou wilt know somewhatof the knight Huldbrand's feelings during his abode on the littlepromontory.
He often perceived with hearty satisfaction that the forest streamrolled along every day more wildly, making its bed ever broader andbroader, and prolonging his sojourn on the island to an indefiniteperiod. Part of the day he rambled about with an old cross-bow,which he had found in a corner of the cottage and had repaired; and,watching for the water-fowl, he killed all that he could for thecottage kitchen. When he brought his booty home, Undine rarelyneglected to upbraid him with having so cruelly deprived the happybirds of life; indeed she often wept bitterly at the sight he placedbefore her. But if he came home another time without having shotanything she scolded him no less seriously, since now, from hiscarelessness and want of skill, they had to be satisfied with livingon fish. He always delighted heartily in her graceful littlescoldings, all the more as she generally strove to compensate forher ill-humor by the sweetest caresses.
The old people took pleasure in the intimacy of the young pair; theyregarded them as betrothed, or even as already united in marriage,and living on this isolated spot, as a succor and support to them intheir old age. It was this same sense of seclusion that suggestedthe idea also to Huldbrand's mind that he was already Undine'saccepted one. He felt as if there were no world beyond thesesurrounding waters, or as if he could never recross them to minglewith other men; and when at times his grazing horse would neigh asif inquiringly to remind him of knightly deeds, or when the coat ofarms on his embroidered saddle and horse-gear shone sternly uponhim, or when his beautiful sword would suddenly fall from the nailon which it was hanging in the cottage, gliding from the scabbard asit fell, he would quiet the doubts of his mind by saving: "Undine isno fisherman's daughter; she belongs in all probability to someillustrious family abroad." There was only one thing to which he hada strong aversion, and this was, when the old dame reproved Undinein his presence. The wayward girl, it is true, laughed at it for themost part, without attempting to conceal her mirth; but it seemed tohim as if his honor were concerned, and yet he could not blame theold fisherman's wife, for Undine always deserved at least ten timesas many reproofs as she received; so, in his heart he felt thebalance in favor of the old woman, and his whole life flowed onwardin calm enjoyment.
There came, however, an interruption at last. The fisherman and theknight had been accustomed at their mid-day meal, and also in theevening when the wind roared without, as it was always wont to dotoward night, to enjoy together a flask of wine. But now the storewhich the fisherman had from time to time brought with him from thetown, was exhausted, and the two men were quite out of humor inconsequence.
Undine laughed at them excessively all day, but they were neither ofthem merry enough to join in her jests as usual. Toward evening shewent out of the cottage to avoid, as she said, two such long andtiresome faces. As twilight advanced, there were again tokens of astorm, and the water rushed and roared. Full of alarm, the knightand the fisherman sprang to the door, to bring home the girl,remembering the anxiety of that night when Huldbrand had first cometo the cottage. Undine, however, met them, clapping her little handswith delight. "What will you give me," she said, "to provide youwith wine?" or rather, "you need not give me anything," shecontinued, "for I am satisfied if you will look merrier and be inbetter spirits than you have been throughout this whole wearisomeday. Only come with me; the forest stream has driven ashore a cask,and I will be condemned to sleep through a whole week if it is not awine-cask." The men followed her, and in a sheltered creek on theshore, they actually found a cask, which inspired them with the hopethat it contained the generous drink for which they were thirsting.
They at once rolled it as quickly as possible toward the cottage,for the western sky was overcast with heavy storm-clouds, and theycould observe in the twilight the waves of the lake raising theirwhite, foaming heads, as if looking out for the rain which waspresently to pour down upon them. Undine helped the men as much asshe was able, and when the storm of rain suddenly burst over them,she said, with a merry threat to the heavy clouds: "Come, come, takecare that you don't wet us; we are still some way from shelter." Theold man reproved her for this, as simple presumption, but shelaughed softly to herself, and no mischief befell any one inconsequence of her levity. Nay, more: contrary to all expectation,they reached the comfortable hearth with their booty perfectly dry,and it was not till they had opened the cask, and had proved that itcontained some wonderfully excellent wine, that the rain burst forthfrom the dark cloud, and the storm raged among the tops of thetrees, and over the agitated billows of the lake.
Several bottles were soon filled from the great cask, which promiseda supply for many days, and they were sitting drinking and jestinground the glowing fire, feeling comfortably secured from the ragingstorm without. Suddenly the old fisherman became very grave andsaid: "Ah, great God! here we are rejoicing over this rich treasure,and he to whom it once belonged, and of whom the floods have robbedit, has probably lost this precious life in their waters."
"That he has not," declared Undine, as she smilingly filled theknight's cup to the brim.
But Huldbrand replied: "By my honor, old father, if I knew where tofind and to rescue him, no knightly errand and no danger would Ishirk. So much, however, I can promise you, that if ever again Ireach more inhabited lands, I will find out the owner of this wineor his heirs, and requite it twofold, nay, threefold."
This delighted the old man; he nodded approvingly to the knight, anddrained his cup with a better conscience and greater pleasure.
Undine, however, said to Huldbrand: "Do as you will with your goldand your reimbursement; but you spoke foolishly about the venturingout in search; I should cry my eyes out, if you were lost in theattempt, and isn't it true, that you would yourself rather stay withme and the good wine."
"Yes, indeed," answered Huldbrand, smiling.
"Then," said Undine, "you spoke unwisely. For charity begins athome, and what do other people concern us?"
The old woman turned away sighing and shaking her head; thefisherman forgot his wonted affection for the pretty girl andscolded her.
"It sounds exactly," said he, as he finished his reproof, "as ifTurks and heathens had brought you up; may God forgive both me andyou, you spoiled child."
"Well," replied Undine, "for all that, it is what I feel, let whowill hate brought me up, and all your words can't help that."
"Silence!" exclaimed the fisherman, and Undine, who, in spite of herpertness, was exceedingly fearful, shrank from him, and movingtremblingly toward Huldbrand, asked him in a soft tone: "Are youalso angry, dear friend?"
The knight pressed her tender hand and stroked her hair. He couldsay nothing, for vexation at the old man's severity toward Undineclosed his lips: and thus the two couples sat opposite to eachother, with angry feelings and embarrassed silence.