They had raised it, and were about to let it down on the mouth of the
spring, when Bertalda ran up, calling out to them to stop: the water
of this fountain was the best for her complexion, and she never would
consent to its being stopped. But Undine, instead of yielding as
usual, kept firmly, though gently, to her resolution; she said that it
behooved her, as mistress of the house, to order all such matters as
appeared best to her, and none but her lord and husband should call
her to account. "Look, oh look!" cried Bertalda, eagerly and angrily,
"how the poor bright water curls and writhes, because you would
deprive it of every gleam of sunshine, and of the cheerful faces of
men, whose mirror it was created to be!" In truth, the spring did
writhe and bubble up wonderfully, just as if someone were trying to
force his way through; but Undine pressed them the more to dispatch
the work. Nor was there much need to repeat her commands. The
household people were too glad at once to obey their gentle lady, and
to mortify the pride of Bertalda, in spite of whose threats and wrath,
the stone was soon firmly fastened down on the mouth of the spring.
Undine bent over it thoughtfully, and wrote on its surface with her
delicate fingers. Something very hard and sharp must have been hidden
in her hand; for when she walked away, and the others came up, they
found all manner of strange characters on the stone, none of which
were there before.

When the Knight came home that evening, Bertalda received him with
tears and complaints of Undine. He looked sternly at his poor wife,
who mournfully cast down her eyes, saying, however, with firmness, "My
lord and husband would not chide the meanest of his vassals, without
giving him a hearing, much less his wedded wife."--"Speak, then; what
was your reason for this strange proceeding?" said the Knight with a
frown. "I would rather tell it you quite alone!" sighed Undine. "You
can say it just as well in Bertalda's presence," replied he. "Yes, if
thou requirest it," said Undine, "but require it not." She looked so
humble, and so submissive in her touching beauty, that the Knight's
heart was melted, as by a sunbeam from happier days. He took her
affectionately by the hand, and led her to his own room, where she
spoke to him as follows.

"You know that wicked Uncle Kuehleborn, my dearest lord, and have often
been provoked at meeting him about the castle. Bertalda, too, has been
often terrified by