breaks down my dykes I do not love it the less. Even so do you love
the little one no less for all her tricks and tiresome ways.'

The old woman turned to her guest. 'Indeed, Sir Knight, he speaks
truly. It is not possible to be angry with the maiden long.'

At that moment the door flew open, and she, the maiden of whom they
spoke, entered the little kitchen. She was fairer far than any one the
knight had ever seen.

'Father,' she cried, 'where is he, the stranger guest?'

Even as she spoke her eyes fell on the knight, who had sprung to his
feet as she entered the cottage. He stood gazing in wonder at the
marvellous beauty of the maiden.

But before he could greet her, she was at his side, trustingly looking
up into his face. Then kneeling before him, she seized his hand and
made him seat himself again on the broken old stool.

'You are beautiful, Sir Knight,' she said, 'but how did you come to
this little cottage? Have you looked for us long before you could find
us? Have you had to pass through the terrible forest ere you could
reach us, Sir Knight?'

The knight would have told the maiden the story of his adventures in
the wood, but Undine's foster-mother was already speaking, and her
tones were loud and angry.

'Go, maiden, go get you to work, and trouble not the stranger with