love which had grown upon the graves of thy beloved, and that here it
was good to live and to build houses. Even if thou didst err, and
hast had bitterly to mourn thy error, it is nothing to my purpose,
and thou thyself wilt not like to dwell on the sad recollection. But
recall those unspeakably sweet feelings, that angelic greeting of
peace, and thou wilt be able to understand what was the happiness of
the knight Huldbrand during his abode on that narrow slip of land.

He frequently observed, with heartfelt satisfaction, that the forest
stream continued every day to swell and roll on with a more impetuous
sweep; and this forced him to prolong his stay on the island. Part
of the day he wandered about with an old cross-bow, which he found in
a corner of the cottage, and had repaired in order to shoot the
waterfowl that flew over; and all that he was lucky enough to hit he
brought home for a good roast in the kitchen. When he came in with
his booty, Undine seldom failed to greet him with a scolding, because
he had cruelly deprived the happy joyous little creatures of life as
they were sporting above in the blue ocean of the air; nay more, she
often wept bitterly when she viewed the water-fowl dead in his hand.
But at other times, when he returned without having shot any, she
gave him a scolding equally serious, since, owing to his carelessness
and want of skill, they must now put up with a dinner of fish. Her
playful taunts ever touched his heart with delight; the more so, as
she generally strove to make up for her pretended ill-humour with
endearing caresses.

The old people saw with pleasure this familiarity of Undine and
Huldbrand; they looked upon them as betrothed, or even as married,
and living with them in their old age on their island, now torn off
from the mainland. The loneliness of his situation strongly