that had followed him in the
haunted forest? No, that he would not believe, for even yet in the
distance he could hear the faint echo of the fisherman's voice as he
called out pitifully, 'Undine! Undine!' Now in his search the knight
had reached the edge of the stream. The stream, as you know, had
already overflowed its bank, and as the moon suddenly shone through
the dark clouds, Huldbrand saw that the water was rushing back toward
the forest. In this way the little bit of meadow-land on which the
fisherman's cottage stood was turned into an island.

A terrible thought struck the knight. Had Undine strayed into the
fearful forest she could not now return to the cottage, save across
the raging stream, nay, she might even now be surrounded by the
spirits of the wood. She would be among them alone, helpless.

At once Huldbrand made up his mind to cross the torrent. He plunged
into the water, and even as he did so he seemed to see on the other
shore the figure of a tall white man, who nodded his head and mocked
him as he struggled on. Huldbrand knew the tall white figure only too
well. It was the one that had followed him as he journeyed through the
forest.

Now; in his haste to find Undine, the knight was leaping from stone to
stone, sometimes slipping into the water, then with a struggle
placing his feet once again upon the stones. These, tossed by the
rushing stream, gave no firm foothold to the knight, and he was forced
to seize the branch of a fir-tree to help him across the dangerous
passage.

While he was still in the midst of the current, he heard a sweet voice
crying, 'Trust not the stream, trust it not, for it is full of craft!'

The knight knew the voice. It was that of the maiden for whom he
sought. Yet though he peered eagerly through the gloom he could see no
trace of her.

'See! you can find me now, Sir Knight, for the moon is shining clear,'
cried the voice he longed to hear, and looking around him Huldbrand
saw where Undine had found a shelter. It was on a little island,
beneath the branches of a great tree, that the maiden sat. There was
no terror of the storm in her eyes. She was even smiling happily as
she nestled amid the sweet scented grass, safe from the fury of the
storm.

A few quick strides and the knight had crossed the stream and stood by
the side of the maiden. She bade him sit down on the grass, and then,
whispering low, she said, 'You shall tell me your story here, Sir
Knight, on t