for the whole night; for who can assure us, in spite of her past
escapes, that she will not some time or other come to harm, if she
thus continue out in the dark and alone until daylight?"

"Then pray, for God's sake, father, let us follow her," cried
Huldbrand anxiously.

"Wherefore should we?" replied the old man. "It would be a sin were
I to suffer you, all alone, to search after the foolish girl amid the
lonesomeness of night; and my old limbs would fail to carry me to
this wild rover, even if I knew to what place she has betaken
herself."

"Still we ought at least to call after her, and beg her to return,"
said Huldbrand; and he began to call in tones of earnest entreaty,
"Undine! Undine! come back, come back!"

The old man shook his head, and said, "All your shouting, however
loud and long, will be of no avail; you know not as yet, sir knight,
how self-willed the little thing is." But still, even hoping against
hope, he could not himself cease calling out every minute, amid the
gloom of night, "Undine! ah, dear Undine! I beseech you, pray come
back--only this once."

It turned out, however, exactly as the fisherman had said. No Undine
could they hear or see; and as the old man would on no account
consent that Huldbrand should go in quest of the fugitive, they were
both obliged at last to return into the cottage. There they found
the fire on the hearth almost gone out, and the mistress of the
house, who took Undine's flight and danger far less to heart than her