had befallen him, when the fisherman hurriedly interrupted.

'Nay, now, Sir Knight,' he cried, 'tell not your tale until the hours
of dark have passed.'

At her foster-father's words Undine sprang angrily from the footstool
and stood before him. Her eyes flashed and grew larger, colder.

'You say to the stranger not to tell his tale, father,' she cried,
'you say to him not to answer me. But he shall speak, he shall, he
shall!' And in her anger she stamped her little feet.

The knight wellnigh smiled as he watched the maiden's wrath, but the
old man was grieved that the stranger should see the wayward behaviour
of his foster-child, and he reproved her for her anger. The old woman
also muttered her displeasure.

Then Undine slipped quickly toward the door of the little cottage. She
did not choose to listen to these rebukes.

'I will not stay with you, for you do nothing but scold me, and you
will not do anything that I wish,' she cried, and before they could
reach her she had opened the door, and was away and out, out into the
dark night.




CHAPTER II