"What sort of a road is this? It goes into the very middle of the
stream," cried Huldbrand to his guide.
"Not at all, sir," returned the other laughing, "it is just the
reverse; the stream goes into the very middle of our road. Look round
and see how every thing is covered by the water."
The whole valley indeed was suddenly filled with the surging flood,
that visibly increased. "It is Kuehleborn, the evil water-spirit, who
wishes to drown us!" exclaimed the knight. "Have you no charm against
him, my friend?"
"I know indeed of one," returned the wagoner, "but I cannot and may
not use it until you know who I am."
"Is this a time for riddles?" cried the knight. "The flood is ever
rising higher, and what does it matter to me to know who you are?"
"It does matter to you, though," said the wagoner, "for I am
Kuehleborn." So saying, he thrust his distorted face into the wagon
with a grin, but the wagon was a wagon no longer, the horses were not
horses--all was transformed to foam and vanished in the hissing waves,
and even the wagoner himself, rising as a gigantic billow, drew down
the vainly struggling horse beneath the waters, and then, swelling
higher and higher, swept over the heads of the floating pair, like
some liquid tower, threatening to bury them irrecoverably.
Just then the soft voice of Undine sounded through the uproar, the
moon emerged from the clouds, and by its light Undine was seen on
the heights above the valley.
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