s:

'Here! we will surely find her here!' And when nothing is there to be
seen, he asks the winds: 'Where is my child--my good and beautiful
child?'

Having sailed round and round the whole group of islands, he orders them
to row out into the middle of the lake, and then make for the other
shore. He sinks into silence now; he leaves the helm, throwing himself
suddenly down into the boat, while a ghastly pallor settles on his
venerable face. He stretches his hand into the water, dives into it with
his arm, listens to the rippling of the waves, then bursts into a loud
scream of wild laughter. The oarsmen stop, in hopes he will order the
boat to return to shore. He does not speak, but rises up and looks,
first back at the boats following after, then at the mountains, the
plains, the forests, the gardens, the ancestral castle. Constantly
striking his palms together or rubbing his head with his hand, he
exclaims:

'Who will waken me? I dream! I dream! I must, I will awake!'

The oarsmen shudder. Then, collecting his whole remaining force, he
flings himself violently into the depths. Three of the men instantly
plunge in after him; those in the boats hasten to the rescue. Having
seen what had happened, they gaze upon the spot where the whirling,
whistling waves were closing over the old lord and his faithful
servants. The bold divers reappear, bearing in their arms the castle's
lord. Under the heraldic banner they lay the last heir of the haughty
House. In vain they try to resuscitate the venerable form; the dream is
over now, but the mortal life remains under the blue waves of the
ancestral lake.

* * * * *

The foreign prince inherits the ancient castle with all its treasures,
the glories of the honored name, the entire Past of a noble race. He
buries the bodies of his virgin wife and haughty father-in-law with
funereal pomp and honor; but orders the corpse of the exile to be
roughly thrown into unhallowed ground. In the very hall in which he had
spent the first night of his bridal, surrounded by gay revellers,
pledging full cups of ruby wine, with light jests flying from reckless
lip to lip--he spreads, with the same comrades, the solemn Feast of the
Dead. When the next dawn breaks upon them, mounting their vigorous
steeds, they all ride back to the court of the King of the South. The
king rejoices in his heart, giving thanks to the Fates that his leal
subject has inherited vast wealth