eart, and
because he wishes it to move that of others, begs you, dear reader,
to pardon him, if he now briefly passes over a considerable space of
time, only cursorily mentioning the events that marked it. He knows
well that he might portray skilfully, step by step, how Huldbrand's
heart began to turn from Undine to Bertalda; how Bertalda more and
more responded with ardent affection to the young knight, and how
they both looked upon the poor wife as a mysterious being rather to
be feared than pitied; how Undine wept, and how her tears stung the
knight's heart with remorse without awakening his former love, so
that though he at times was kind and endearing to her, a cold
shudder would soon draw him from her, and he would turn to his
fellow-mortal, Bertalda. All this the writer knows might be fully
detailed, and perhaps ought to have been so; but such a task would
have been too painful, for similar things have been known to him by
sad experience, and he shrinks from their shadow even in
remembrance. You know probably a like feeling, dear reader, for such
is the lot of mortal man. Happy are you if you have received rather
than inflicted the pain, for in such things it is more blessed to
receive than to give. If it be so, such recollections will only
bring a feeling of sorrow to your mind, and perhaps a tear will
trickle down your cheek over the faded flowers that once caused you
such delight. But let that be enough. We will not pierce our hearts
with a thousand separate things, but only briefly state, as I have
just said, how matters were.

Poor Undine was very sad, and the other two were not to be called
happy. Bertalda especially thought that she could trace the effect
of jealousy on the part of the injured wife whenever her wishes were
in any way thwarted by her. She had therefore habituated herself to
an imperious demeanor, to which Undine yielded in sorrowful
submission, and the now blinded Huldbrand usually encouraged this
arrogant behavior in the strongest manner. But the circumstance that
most of all disturbed the inmates of the castle, was a variety of
wonderful apparitions which met Huldbrand and Bertalda in the
vaulted galleries of the castle, and which had never been heard of
before as haunting the locality. The tall white man, in whom
Huldbrand recognized only too plainly Uncle Kuhleborn, and Bertalda
the spectral master of the fountain, often passed before them with a
threatening aspect, and especially bef