r of a travelling trader; half dreamingly she
drew it along the surface of the water, enjoying the light glimmer
it cast upon the evening-tinted stream. Suddenly a huge hand was
stretched out of the Danube, it seized the necklace and vanished
with it beneath the waters. Bertalda screamed aloud, and a scornful
laugh resounded from the depths of the stream. The knight could now
restrain his anger no longer. Starting up, he inveighed against the
river; he cursed all who ventured to interfere with his family and
his life, and challenged them, be they spirits or sirens, to show
themselves before his avenging sword.

Bertalda wept meanwhile for her lost ornament, which was so precious
to her, and her tears added fuel to the flame of the knight's anger,
while Undine held her hand over the side of the vessel, dipping it
into the water, softly murmuring to herself, and only now and then
interrupting her strange mysterious whisper, as she entreated her
husband: "My dearly loved one, do not scold me here; reprove others
if you will, but not me here. You know why!" And indeed, he
restrained the words of anger that were trembling on his tongue.
Presently in her wet hand which she had been holding under the
waves, she brought up a beautiful coral necklace of so much
brilliancy that the eyes of all were dazzled by it.

"Take this," said she, holding it out kindly to Bertalda; "I have
ordered this to be brought for you as a compensation, and don't be
grieved any more, my poor child."

But the knight sprang between them. He tore the beautiful ornament
from Undine's hand, hurled it again into the river, exclaiming in
passionate rage: "Have you then still a connection with them? In the
name of all the witches, remain among them with your presents, and
leave us mortals in peace, you sorceress!"

Poor Undine gazed at him with fixed but tearful eyes, her hand still
stretched out, as when she had offered her beautiful present so
lovingly to Bertalda. She then began to weep more and more
violently, like a dear innocent child bitterly afflicted. At last,
wearied out she said:

"Alas, sweet friend, alas! farewell! They shall do you no harm; only
remain true, so that I may be able to keep them from you. I must,
alas! go away; I must go hence at this early stage of life. Oh woe,
woe! what have you done! Oh woe, woe!"

She vanished over the side of the vessel. Whether she plunged into
the stream, or flowed away with it, they knew not; her d