ho is a powerful
water prince in the Mediterranean Sea, that his only daughter should
become possessed of a soul, although she should have to endure many of
the sufferings of those who share that gift.

"Now, the race to which I belong have no other means of obtaining a
soul than by forming with an individual of your own the most intimate
union of love. I am now possessed of a soul, and my soul thanks you,
my best beloved, and never shall cease to thank you, if you do not
render my whole future life miserable. For what will become of me, if
you avoid and reject me? Still, I would not keep you as my own by
artifice. And should you decide to cast me off, then do it now, and
return alone to the shore. I will plunge into this brook, where my
uncle will receive me; my uncle, who here in the forest, far removed
from his other friends, passes his strange and solitary existence. But
he is powerful, as well as revered and beloved by many great rivers;
and as he brought me hither to the fisherman a light-hearted and
laughing child, he will take me home to my parents a woman, gifted
with a soul, with power to love and to suffer."

She was about to add something more, when Huldbrand with the most
heartfelt tenderness and love clasped her in his arms, and again bore
her back to the shore. There amid tears and kisses he first swore
never to forsake his affectionate wife, and esteemed himself even more
happy than Pygmalion, for whom Venus gave life to this beautiful
statue, and thus changed it into a beloved wife. Supported by his arm,
and in the confidence of affection, Undine returned to the cottage;
and now she first realized with her whole heart how little cause she
had for regretting what she had left--the crystal palaces of her
mysterious father.

THE LAST APPEARANCE OF UNDINE

From 'Undine'

Should I relate to you how passed the marriage feast at Castle
Ringstetten, it would be as if you saw a heap of bright and pleasant
things, but all overspread with a black mourning crape, through whose
darkening veil their brilliancy would appear but a mockery of the
nothingness of all earthly joys.

It was not that any spectral delusion disturbed the scene of
festivity; for the castle, as we well know, had been secured against
the mischief of the water spirits. But the knight, the fisherman, and
all the guests were unable to banish the feeling that the chief
personage of the feast was still wanting, and that this chief
per