And
yet he could distinguish it to be a woman, dressed in long white
garments like Bertalda's, asleep or in a swoon. He came close to her,
made the boughs rustle, and his sword ring--but she stirred not.
"Bertalda!" cried he; first gently, then louder and louder--in vain.
When at length he shouted the beloved name with the whole strength of
his lungs, a faint mocking echo returned it from the cavities of the
rocks--"Bertalda!" but the sleeper awoke not. He bent over her; but
the gloom of the valley and the shades of night prevented his
discerning her features. At length, though kept back by some boding
fears, he knelt down by her on the earth, and just then a flash of
lightning lighted up the valley. He saw a hideous distorted face close
to his own, and heard a hollow voice say, "Give me a kiss, thou sweet
shepherd!" With a cry of horror Huldbrand started up, and the monster
after him. "Go home!" it cried, "the bad spirits are abroad--go home!
or I have you!" and its long white arm nearly grasped him. "Spiteful
Kuehleborn," cried the Knight, taking courage, "what matters it, I know
thee, foul spirit! There is a kiss for thee!" And he raised his sword
furiously against the figure. But it dissolved, and a drenching shower
made it sufficiently clear to the Knight what enemy he had
encountered. "He would scare me away from Bertalda," said he aloud to
himself; "he thinks he can subdue me by his absurd tricks, and make me
leave the poor terrified maiden in his power, that he may wreak his
vengeance upon her.
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