'If we may not follow her, at least let us call and entreat her to
return,' said the young knight, and without waiting for an answer he
called, 'Undine! Undine!'

But the old man shook his head. 'It is useless to call,' he said, 'the
little one will not heed your voice.' Yet still the knight's cry rang
out into the night, 'Undine, dear Undine, I pray you return!'

No answer came back from the darkness, and at length Huldbrand
returned with the fisherman to the cottage.

The old woman, who seemed little troubled by Undine's flight, had gone
to bed and the fire was wellnigh out. But the fisherman, drawing the
ashes together, placed wood on the top of them, and soon the fire
blazed brightly.

Then in the light of the flames they sat and talked, yet they thought
only of Undine. The window rattled. They raised their heads to listen.
The rain fell in heavy drops, pitter, patter. They thought it was the
tread of tiny feet.

'It is she, it is Undine!' they would cry, yet still the maiden did
not come. Then they shook their heads sadly, but as they went on
talking they listened still.

'It was fifteen years ago, on such a night of wind and rain, that she
came,' murmured the old man. 'Our home was sad and desolate, for we
had lost our own little child.'