me; I have little more to say, but one thing you
must hear: I have told no falsehood. Proofs I have none to give,
beyond my word, but I will swear to the truth of it. I heard it from
him who decoyed Bertalda from her parents into the water, and then
laid her down in the meadow where the Duke was to pass."

"She is a sorceress," cried Bertalda, "a witch who has dealings with
evil spirits! she has acknowledged it."

"I have not," said Undine, with a heaven of innocence and
guilelessness in her eyes. "Nor am I a witch--only look at me!"

"Then she lies," cried Bertalda, "and she dares not assert that I was
born of these mean people. My noble parents, I beseech you take me out
of this room, and this town, where they are leagued together to insult
me."

But the venerable Duke stood still, and his lady said, "We must first
sift this matter to the bottom. Nothing shall make me leave the room
till my doubts are satisfied."

Then the old woman came up, made a deep obeisance to the Duchess, and
said, "You give me courage to speak, my noble, worthy lady. I must
tell you, that if this ungodly young woman is my daughter, I shall
know her by a violet mark between her shoulders, and another on the
left instep. If she would but come with me into another room--"

"I will not uncover myself before that country-woman," said Bertalda,
proudly turning away.

"But before me, you will," rejoined the Duchess gravely. "You shall go
with me into that room, young woman, and the good dame will accompany
us." They withdrew together, leaving the party in silent suspense. In
a few minutes they came back; Bertalda was deadly pale, and the
Duchess said, "Truth is truth, and I am bound to declare that our Lady
Hostess has told us perfectly right. Bertalda is the Fisherman's
daughter; more than that, it concerns nobody to know." And the
princely pair departed, taking with them their adopted child, and
followed (upon a sign from the Duke) by the Fisherman and his wife.
The rest of the assembly broke up, in silence or with secret murmurs,
and Undine sank into Huldbrand's arms, weeping bitterly.

XII.--HOW THEY LEFT THE IMPERIAL CITY

There was certainly much to displease the Lord of Ringstetten in the
events of this day; yet he could not look back upon them, without
feeling proud of the guileless truth and the generosity of heart shown
by his lovely wife. "If indeed her soul was my gift," thought he, "it
is nevertheless much better than my ow