"This must be Kuehleborn, the wicked sprite,
trying to drown us!" cried the Knight. "Have you no charm to keep him
off, friend?"--"I do know of one," said the driver, "but I can't and
won't make use of it, till you know who I am."--"Is this a time for
riddles?" shouted the Knight; "the flood is rising every moment, and
what care I to know who you are?"--"It rather concerns you, however,
to know," said the driver, "for I am Kuehleborn." And he grinned
hideously into the wagon--which was now a wagon no longer, nor were
the horses horses; but all dissolved into foaming waves; the wagoner
himself shot up into a giant Waterspout, bore down the struggling
horse into the flood, and, towering over the heads of the hapless
pair, till he had swelled into a watery fountain, he would have
swallowed them up the next moment.
But now the sweet voice of Undine was heard above the wild uproar;
the moon shone out between the clouds, and at the same instant Undine
came into sight, upon the high grounds above them. She addressed
Kuehleborn in a commanding tone, the huge wave laid itself down,
muttering and murmuring; the waters rippled gently away in the moon's
soft light, and Undine alighted like a white dove from her airy
height, and led them to a soft green spot on the hillside, where she
refreshed their jaded spirits with choice food. She then helped
Bertalda to mount her own white palfrey, and at length they all three
reached the Castle of Ringstetten in safety.
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