Undine: A Romance, by Friedrich de la Motte Fouque

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CHAPTER 19: HOW SIR HULDBRAND WAS BURIED

FATHER Heilmann arrived at the castle so soon as the lord of Ringstetten's death had become known in the neighbourhood, and he appeared at the very moment when the monk who had married the unhappy pair was flying from the gate overwhelmed with fear and horror.

"It is well," said Heilmann, when this was told him; "now my office begins, and I need no companion."

Then he began to comfort the widowed bride, though his consolations availed little to her light and worldly spirit. He found that the old fisherman, on the contrary, bore far better the fate which had befallen his daughter and son-in-law; and while Bertalda ceased not to upbraid Undine as sorceress and murderess, the old man said softly, "It could not be otherwise. I see in this only the judgment of God; and none has so taken Huldbrand's death to heart as she who had to condemn him -- the poor, forsaken Undine!"

Then he assisted in arranging the funeral pomp, as befitted the rank of the deceased. He was to be interred in a neighbouring village-church, around which lay the graves of his ancestors, and to which they as well as himself had granted rich gifts and privileges. His shield and helmet were already laid on the coffin, to be sunk with it into the grave -- for Sir Huldbrand Ringstetten died the last of his race; the mourners began the sad procession, while their funeral hymns rose up to the calm blue heavens; Heilmann walked before, bearing a crucifix; and the disconsolate Bertalda followed, supported by her old father. Then suddenly was perceived, amongst the black-clad attendants of the widow, a snow-white figure, closely veiled, who raised her hands with suppressed lamentations. A mysterious terror came over those near whom she was; they drew back or aside, thus still more frightening the others, who now became nearest to the white stranger, till at length confusion began to spread through the whole mournful train. Some soldiers ventured to speak to the figure, and endeavoured to drive her from the procession; but she escaped from their hand, and was the next moment seen following the body with slow and solemn steps. At length, as the attendants continually gave way, she came close behind Bertalda. Then she moved yet more slowly, so that the widow was not aware of her as humbly and gently she walked behind, none attempting to disturb her.

This lasted until they came to the churchyard, and the procession formed a circle round the open grave. Bertalda then saw her uninvited companion, and raising herself up, half in anger half in fear, she bade her depart from the knight's last resting-place.

The veiled figure gently shook her head, and raised her hands, as if in humble entreaty, towards Bertalda, who was much moved thereby, and thought, with tears, how kindly Undine had held out to her the coral necklace on the Danube. At the same moment father Heilmann made a sign, and commanded silence, that all in quiet devotion might pray over the body, on which earth was now being heaped. Bertalda was silent and knelt down, and all knelt, even the grave-diggers when they had filled up the grave. When they arose again, the white stranger had vanished. On the spot where she had knelt, a spring of silvery brightness gushed out of the grass; it flowed on and on, till it nearly encompassed the grave of the knight; then it ran still farther, and fell into a quiet river which flowed on one side of the church-yard. Even in late times the dwellers in the village showed the stream, and cherished firm the belief that it was the poor rejected Undine, who thus ever embraced her beloved in her protecting arms.

THE END.