ing to do with our present picture;
nor wilt thou care to dwell on such bitter moments; but recall to mind
that period of unspeakable peace, that foretaste of angelic rest which
was granted thee, and thou wilt partly conceive what the Knight
Huldbrand felt, while he lived on the promontory. Often, with secret
satisfaction, did he mark the forest stream rolling by more wildly
every day; its bed became wider and wider, and he felt the period of
his seclusion from the world must be still prolonged. Having found an
old crossbow in a corner of the cottage, and mended it, he spent part
of his days roving about, waylaying the birds that flew by, and
bringing whatever he killed to the kitchen, as rare game. When he came
back laden with spoil, Undine would often scold him for taking the
life of the dear little joyous creatures, soaring in the blue depths
of Heaven; she would even weep bitterly over the dead birds. But if he
came home empty-handed, she found fault with his awkwardness and
laziness, which obliged them to be content with fish and crabs for
dinner. Either way, he took delight in her pretty fits of anger; the
more so as she rarely failed to make up for them by the fondest
caresses afterwards. The old folks, having been in the young people's
confidence from the first, unconsciously looked upon them as a
betrothed or even married pair, shut out from the world with them in
this retreat, and bestowed upon them for comforts in their old age.
And this very seclusion helped to make the young Knight feel as if he
were already Undine's bridegroom. It seemed to him that the whole
world was contained within the surrounding waters, or at any rate,
that he could never more cross that charmed boundary, and rejoin other
human beings. And if at times the neighing of his steed reminded him
of former feats of chivalry, and seemed to ask for more; if his coat
of arms, embroidered on the saddle and trappings, caught his eye; or
if his good sword fell from the nail on which he had hung it and
slipped out of its scabbard, he would silence the misgivings that
arose, by thinking, Undine is not a fisherman's daughter, but most
likely sprung from some highly noble family in distant lands. The only
thing that ever ruffled him, was to hear the old woman scolding
Undine. The wayward girl only laughed at her; but to him it seemed as
if his own honour were touched; and yet he could not blame the good
wife, for Undine mostly deserved ten times worse