Undine

The Black Valley was a gloomy place. Fir-trees grew tall and dark on the banks of the stream, casting strange shadows on the sunny waters.

As the knight entered the valley, evening had fallen and the stream rushed, dark and sullen, between the rocks.

Huldbrand glanced anxiously from side to side, but no trace could be found of the maiden whom he sought. He began to fear lest already she were in peril, and thinking thus he urged his horse yet further into the valley.

Peering through the bushes as he rode, he at length caught sight of something white lying on the ground. Had he found Bertalda at last?

He spurred his horse onward toward the white gleam which had caught his eye, but the animal no sooner saw the object which had gladdened his master's eye than it started violently and refused to move. Then the knight dismounted, and tying his now rearing steed to an elm, he pushed his way on foot through the brushwood.

Thunder began to rumble around the mountains, and the evening dew fell cold and damp on the anxious knight.

He could still see the white figure lying on the ground, but as he drew nearer to it a strange dread struck at Huldbrand's heart.

'Was Bertalda asleep,' he wondered, 'or did she lie there unconscious, perchance even dead?'

He was close to her now, bending over her. She never stirred. He rustled the branches, rattled his sword. Still she lay there quiet, motionless. He called her by her name, 'Bertalda!' but no voice answered him. He called again, more loud, 'Bertalda!' but only a sorrowful echo answered his cry.

Then the knight bent nearer yet to the maiden, but darkness hid the face on which he longed to gaze.

Suddenly the whole valley was bright as at mid-day. A vivid flash of lightning showed to Huldbrand the face over which he bent.

It was a terrible face. And a voice, awful as the face, rang out harsh and hollow.

With a cry of terror the knight sprang away from the horrid vision. But was it a vision? Huldbrand knew that it was creeping after him, and he could catch some muttered words. 'Get you gone, get you gone,' he heard, 'there are evil spirits abroad. Get you gone, or I shall seize you and hold you fast,' and the white figure stretched out his bony arms to catch him. Ah! now the knight knew who it was that had given him so cruel a fright. It was none other than Kühleborn, the malicious water spirit.