“I will not consent to uncover myself before the peasant woman,” interrupted Bertalda, haughtily turning her back upon her.

“But before me you certainly will,” replied the duchess gravely.  “You will follow me into that room, maiden; and the old woman shall go with us.”

The three disappeared, and the rest continued where they were, in breathless expectation.  In a few minutes the females returned—­ Bertalda pale as death; and the duchess said:  “Justice must be done; I therefore declare that our lady hostess has spoken exact truth.  Bertalda is the fisherman’s daughter; no further proof is required; and this is all of which, on the present occasion, you need to be informed.”

The princely pair went out with their adopted daughter; the fisherman, at a sign from the duke, followed them with his wife.  The other guests retired in silence, or suppressing their murmurs; while Undine sank weeping into the arms of Huldbrand.

The lord of Ringstetten would certainly have been more gratified, had the events of this day been different; but even such as they now were, he could by no means look upon them as unwelcome, since his lovely wife had shown herself so full of goodness, sweetness, and kindliness.

“If I have given her a soul,” he could not help saying to himself, “I have assuredly given her a better one than my own;” and now he only thought of soothing and comforting his weeping wife, and of removing her even so early as the morrow from a place which, after this cross accident, could not fail to be distasteful to her.  Yet it is certain that the opinion of the public concerning her was not changed.  As something extraordinary had long before been expected of her, the mysterious discovery of Bertalda’s parentage had occasioned little or no surprise; and every one who became acquainted with Bertalda’s story, and with the violence of her behaviour on that occasion, was only disgusted and set against her.  Of this state of things, however, the knight and his lady were as yet ignorant; besides, whether the public condemned Bertalda or herself, the one view of the affair would have been as distressing to Undine as the other; and thus they came to the conclusion that the wisest course they could take, was to leave behind them the walls of the old city with all the speed in their power.

With the earliest beams of morning, a brilliant carriage for Undine drove up to the door of the inn; the horses of Huldbrand and his attendants stood near, stamping the pavement, impatient to proceed.  The knight was leading his beautiful wife from the door, when a fisher-girl came up and met them in the way.

“We have no need of your fish,” said Huldbrand, accosting her; “we are this moment setting out on a journey.”

Upon this the fisher-girl began to weep bitterly; and then it was that the young couple first perceived it was Bertalda.  They immediately returned with her to their apartment, when she informed them that, owing to her unfeeling and violent conduct of the preceding day, the duke and duchess had been so displeased with her, as entirely to withdraw from her their protection, though not before giving her a generous portion.  The fisherman, too, had received a handsome gift, and had, the evening before, set out with his wife for his peninsula.