Undine

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Undine, by Friedrich de la Motte Fouquée

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Title: Undine
Author: Friedrich de la Motte Fouquée
Editor: Mary Macgregor
Illustrator: Katharine Cameron
Release Date: July 4, 2006 [EBook #18752]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNDINE ***

Produced by Jason Isbell, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

TOLD TO THE CHILDREN SERIES
EDITED BY LOUEY CHISHOLM
[Illustration: On the threshold stood a little maiden.]

Friedrich de la Motte Fouquée
UNDINE
TOLD TO THE CHILDREN BY
MARY MACGREGOR
WITH PICTURES BY
KATHARINE CAMERON

LONDON: T. C. & E. C. JACK
NEW YORK: E. P. DUTTON & CO.

* * * * *
TO MARGARET
* * * * *

ABOUT THIS BOOK
Undine is the name of the water maiden whose story you will read as you turn the leaves of this little book.
Undine is beautiful as the dawn stealing across the waters, beautiful as the spray of the crystal waves.
Yet when she comes to earth she comes to seek for that without which her beauty will be for ever cold, cold and chill as the surge of the salt, salt sea.
Look deep into her blue eyes and you will see why her beauty is so cold, so chill.
In the eyes of every mortal you may see a soul. In the gay blue eyes of Undine, look you long and never so deep, no soul will look forth to meet your gaze.
Love, joy, sorrow, these are the pearls that shine in the eyes of every mortal. But in the eyes of the water maiden there is no gleam of love, no sparkle of joy, no tear of sorrow.
Undine has come to earth to seek for a soul. Without one she may never know the golden gifts God has given to each mortal, gifts these of love, joy, sorrow.
You will read in this little book how Undine, the water maiden, won for herself a human soul.
MARY MACGREGOR.

CONTENTS
Chap.
I. The Fisherman and the Knight
II. Undine is Lost
III. Undine is Found
IV. The Knight's Story
V. The Knight stays at the Cottage
VI. The Wedding
VII. Undine's Story
VIII. Huldbrand and Undine leave the Cottage
IX. The Knight returns to the City
X. The Birthday Feast
XI. The Journey to Castle Ringstetten
XII. Castle Ringstetten
XIII. The Black Valley
XIV. Huldbrand forgets his Promise
XV. Huldbrand and Bertalda
XVI. Bertalda's Wedding
XVII. The Burial

LIST OF PICTURES
On the threshold stood a little maiden Frontispiece
Amid the sweet-scented grass, safe from the fury of the storm
'I saw in a great cavern a group of little goblins'
In the little cottage were heard the solemn words of the marriage service
The three travellers soon reached the leafy shades of the forest
At the sound of his voice the girl burst into tears
The little waves seemed to sob as they whispered, 'Alas! alas!'
Slowly, slowly there rose out of the mouth of the well a white figure

CHAPTER I
THE FISHERMAN AND THE KNIGHT
A fisherman brought a stool to the doorway of his home and, sitting down, he began to mend his nets.
His cottage stood in the midst of green meadows, and his eyes grew glad as he looked at the green grass. After the heat of the fair summer's day it was so cool, so refreshing.
At the foot of the meadows lay a large lake of clear blue water. The fisherman knew it well. It was there his work was done, through sunshine or through storm.
To-day, as his gaze wandered from the green meadows to the blue lake, he thought he saw the waters stretch out soft arms, until slowly they drew the fair meadows, the little cottage into a loving embrace.
The fisherman, his wife and their foster-child lived very quietly on this pleasant spot. It was but seldom that any one passed their door, for between the beautiful meadows and the nearest town lay a wood. So wild and gloomy was the wood, so tangled its pathway, that no one cared to enter it.
Moreover, it was said that there were strange beings lurking amid the gloom--ugly goblins, misshapen gnomes; and there were shadowy spirits too, which flitted through the branches of the strongest trees, and these even the bravest would not wish to see.
Through this dark and haunted wood the old fisherman had often to journey.
It was true that he entered the dreaded shades with fear, yet no spectre ever crossed his path. But perhaps that was because the thoughts of the old man were pure, or perhaps because he never entered the forest without singing a hymn in a clear brave voice.
As the fisherman sat mending his nets on this fair summer eve he began to move restlessly, to glance around uneasily.
Then a sudden terror fell upon