She continued thus throughout the whole day, quiet, kind, and
attentive--at once a little matron and a tender bashful girl. The
three who had known her longest expected every moment to see some
whimsical vagary of her capricious spirit burst forth; but they waited
in vain for it. Undine remained as mild and gentle as an angel. The
holy father could not take his eyes from her, and he said repeatedly
to the bridegroom, "The goodness of heaven, sir, has intrusted a
treasure to you yesterday through me, unworthy as I am; cherish it as
you ought, and it will promote your temporal and eternal welfare."
[Illustration: FRIEDRICH BARON DE LA MOTTE-FOUQUE.]
Toward evening Undine was hanging on the knight's arm with humble
tenderness, and drew him gently out of the door where the declining
sun was shining pleasantly on the fresh grass and upon the tall
slender stems of the trees. The eyes of the young wife were moist,
as with the dew of sadness and love, and a tender and fearful secret
seemed hovering on her lips--which, however, was disclosed only by
scarcely audible sighs. She led her husband onward and onward in
silence; when he spoke she answered him only with looks, in which,
it is true, there lay no direct reply to his inquiries, but a whole
heaven of love and timid devotion. Thus they reached the edge of
the swollen forest-stream, and the knight was astonished to see it
rippling along in gentle waves, without a trace of its former wildness
and swell.
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