n
the green grass of the meadow, where he knew the duke was to pass."

"She is an enchantress!" cried Bertalda; "a witch, that has intercourse
with evil spirits. She acknowledges it herself."

"Never! I deny it!" replied Undine, while a whole heaven of innocence
and truth beamed from her eyes. "I am no witch; look upon me, and say if
I am."

"Then she utters both falsehood and folly," cried Bertalda; "and she
is unable to prove that I am the child of these low people. My noble
parents, I entreat you to take me from this company, and out of this
city, where they do nothing but shame me."

But the aged duke, a man of honourable feeling, remained unmoved; and
his wife remarked:

"We must thoroughly examine into this matter. God forbid that we should
move a step from this hall before we do so."

Then the aged wife of the fisherman drew near, made a low obeisance to
the duchess and said: "Noble and pious lady, you have opened my heart.
Permit me to tell you, that if this evil-disposed maiden is my daughter,
she has a mark like a violet between her shoulders, and another of the
same kind on the instep of her left foot. If she will only consent to go
out of the hall with me--"

"I will not consent to uncover myself before the peasant woman,"
interrupted Bertalda, haughtily turning her back upon her.

"But before me you certainly will," replied the duchess gravely. "You
will follow me into that room, maiden; and the old woman shall go with
us."

The three disappeared, and the rest continued where they were, in
breathless expectation. In a few minutes the females returned--Bertalda
pale as death; and the duchess said: "Justice must be done; I therefore
declare that our lady hostess has spoken exact truth. Bertalda is the
fisherman's daughter; no further proof is required; and this is all of
which, on the present occasion, you need to be informed."

The princely pair went out with their adopted daughter; the fisherman,
at a sign from the duke, followed them with his wife. The other guests
retired in silence, or suppressing their murmurs; while Undine sank
weeping into the arms of Huldbrand.

The lord of Ringstetten would certainly have been more gratified, had
the events of this day been different; but even such as they now were,
he could by no means look upon them as unwelcome, since his lovely wife
had shown herself so full of goodness, sweetness, and kindliness.

"If I have given her a soul," he could not help s