"Shall we, then, so early as to-day, begin our journey? Why should
we? It is probable that abroad in the world we shall find no days
more delightful than those we have spent in this green isle so secret
and so secure. Let us yet see the sun go down here two or three
times more."

"Just as my lord wills," replied Undine meekly. "Only we must
remember, that my foster-parents will, at all events, see me depart
with pain; and should they now, for the first time, discover the true
soul in me, and how fervently I can now love and honour them, their
feeble eyes would surely become blind with weeping. As yet they
consider my present quietness and gentleness as of no better promise
than they were formerly--like the calm of the lake just while the air
remains tranquil--and they will learn soon to cherish a little tree
or flower as they have cherished me. Let me not, then, make known to
them this newly bestowed, this loving heart, at the very moment they
must lose it for this world; and how could I conceal what I have
gained, if we continued longer together?"

Huldbrand yielded to her representation, and went to the aged couple
to confer with them respecting his journey, on which he proposed to
set out that very hour. The priest offered himself as a companion to
the young married pair; and, after taking a short farewell, he held
the bridle, while the knight lifted his beautiful wife upon his
horse; and with rapid steps they crossed the dry channel with her
toward the forest. Undine wept in silent but intense emotion; the
old people, as she moved away, were more clamorous in the expression
of their grief. They appeared to feel, at the moment of separation,
all that they were losing in their affectionate foster-daughter.