She was weeping abundantly, wringing her
hands and clasping them over her head, while she proceeded with slow
and measured step toward the castle. The crowd of servants fell back
from the spot; while, pale and aghast, the bride and her women looked
on from the window.
When the figure had arrived just under that window, she raised her
tearful face for a moment, and Bertalda thought she recognised
Undine's pale features through the veil. The shadowy form moved on
slowly and reluctantly, like one sent to execution. Bertalda screamed
out that the Knight must be called; no one durst stir a foot, and the
bride herself kept silence, frightened at the sound of her own voice.
While these remained at the window, as if rooted to the spot, the
mysterious visitor had entered the castle, and passed up the
well-known stairs, and through the familiar rooms, still weeping
silently. Alas! how differently had she trodden those floors in days
gone by!
The Knight had now dismissed his train; half-undressed, and in a
dejected mood, he was standing near a large mirror, by the light of a
dim taper. He heard the door tapped by a soft, soft touch. It was thus
Undine had been wont to knock, when she meant to steal upon him
playfully. "It is all fancy!" thought he. "The bridal bed awaits
me."--"Yes, but it is a cold one," said a weeping voice from without;
and the mirror then showed him the door opening slowly, and the white
form coming in, and closing the door gently behind her.
Pages:
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169