be a pale female, veiled in white. She wept bitterly, raised her
hands above her head, wringing them sadly as with slow and solemn
step she moved toward the castle. The servants shrank back, and fled
from the spring, while the bride, pale and motionless with horror,
stood with her maidens at the window. When the figure had now come
close beneath their room, it looked up to them sobbing, and Bertalda
thought she recognized through the veil the pale features of Undine.
But the mourning form passed on, sad, reluctant, and lingering, as if
going to the place of execution. Bertalda screamed to her maids to
call the knight; not one of them dared to stir from her place; and
even the bride herself became again mute, as if trembling at the
sound of her own voice.

While they continued standing at the window, motionless as statues,
the mysterious wanderer had entered the castle, ascended the well-
known stairs, and traversed the well-known halls in silent tears.
Alas, how different had she once passed through these rooms!

The knight had in the meantime dismissed his attendants. Half-
undressed and in deep dejection, he was standing before a large
mirror, a wax taper burned dimly beside him. At this moment some one
tapped at his door very, very softly. Undine had formerly tapped in
this way, when she was playing some of her endearing wiles.

"It is all an illusion!" said he to himself. "I must to my nuptial
bed."

"You must indeed, but to a cold one!" he heard a voice, choked with
sobs, repeat from without; and then he saw in the mirror, that the
door of his room was slowly, slowly opened, and the white figure