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To most it has been merely a pretty conceit or an effective spectacle; to the close student it is an absorbing picture of the enthralment of human energies. Sir Huldebrand of Kingstettin is a true as well as a valiant knight, and he has a golden-haired and white-handed ladie-love in the neighboring castle of the Baron of Steinbrunnen.
"Yes it is so," said the lady, a low note in her voice. "Because Huldebrand gave Undine a soul with a kiss." "Tell me about it," implored Paul. "I am so ignorant. Who was Huldebrand, and what did he do?"
Sir Huldebrand may come back again, after a time, as the legend is fond of making him do. He may even marry the golden-haired Ermengarde and sire children to heir his lands and perpetuate his name.
"He was a man, you see, Paul; so when he had won her love, he did not value it he threw it away." "Oh, no! I don't believe it!" Paul exclaimed vehemently. "It was just this brute Huldebrand. But you don't know men to think they do not value what they win you don't know them, indeed!"
It was in the twilight of a day in March, when the wind howled dismally, that Boniface Willet, in Barnaby Rudge, flattened his fat nose against the window pane and made one of his famous predictions. It must have been a March freshet when the Knight Huldebrand put Bertalda into Kuhleborn's wagon and the gentle Undine saved them both.
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