fisherman had from time to time brought with him from the city, was
at last exhausted, and they were both quite out of humour at the
circumstance. That day Undine laughed at them excessively, but they
were not disposed to join in her jests with the same gaiety as usual.
Toward evening she went out of the cottage, to escape, as she said,
the sight of two such long and tiresome faces.

While it was yet twilight, some appearances of a tempest seemed to be
again mustering in the sky, and the waves already heaved and roared
around them: the knight and the fisherman sprang to the door in
terror, to bring home the maiden, remembering the anguish of that
night when Huldbrand had first entered the cottage. But Undine met
them at the same moment, clapping her little hands in high glee.

"What will you give me," she cried, "to provide you with wine? or
rather, you need not give me anything," she continued; "for I am
already satisfied, if you look more cheerful, and are in better
spirits, than throughout this last most wearisome day. Only come
with me; the forest stream has driven ashore a cask; and I will be
condemned to sleep through a whole week, if it is not a wine-cask."

The men followed her, and actually found, in a bushy cove of the
shore, a cask, which inspired them with as much joy as if they were
sure it contained the generous old wine for which they were
thirsting. They first of all, and with as much expedition as
possible, rolled it toward the cottage; for heavy clouds were again
rising in the west, and they could discern the waves of the lake in
the fading light lifting their white foaming heads, as if looking out
for the rain, which threatened every instant to pour upon them.
Undine helped the men as much as she was able; and as the shower,