There came, however, a break at last. It was the habit of the fisherman and the knight when they sate them down to their midday meal, or in the evening when the wind, as it commonly did, roared without, to share together a flask of wine. But now the store that the old man had brought from time to time in his visits to the city was exhausted, and the two men were quite out of humour in consequence. Undine laughed gaily at them all day, but for their part they were neither of them merry enough to join in her jests as usual. Towards evening she left the cottage to avoid, as she said, faces so long and so dismal. As night fell, there were again signs of a storm and the waters began to rush and roar. Full of fear, the knight and the fisherman sprang to the door to bring home the maiden, for they bethought them of the anxiety of that night when Huldbrand first came to the cottage. But Undine swiftly came up to them, clapping her little hands with joy. “What will ye give me,” quoth she, “if I provide some wine? Or rather, give me nothing, for it will content me well if ye look merrier and be of better cheer than throughout this dismal day. Only come with me, the stream has thrown a cask ashore. ’Tis a wine cask for certain, or else let me pay the penalty with a week’s sleep!” The men followed her forthwith, and sure enough in a sheltered creek they found a cask which they ardently hoped might contain the generous liquor for which they thirsted.
With as much haste as possible they rolled the cask towards the cottage, for the western sky was overcast with heavy storm-clouds, and they might see in the twilight the waves of the lake lifting their foamy crests as if looking for the rain which must shortly come down. Undine helped the men all she might, and when the storm threatened to burst on their heads, she uttered a laughing reproof to the clouds. “Come, come,” saith she, “look to it that ye wet us not, we are still some way from shelter.” The old man warned her that she might suffer for such presumption, but she laughed softly to herself, and no evil came of it to anyone. Nay more, to their surprise they reached the hearth with their prize perfectly dry; and not till they had opened the cask and found that it contained a most exquisite wine, did the rain burst from the dark cloud and the storm sweep through the tree-tops and over the heaving waves of the lake.
Full soon a score of bottles were filled from the cask, promising a supply for many days, and they sate them round the glowing fire, drinking with many a merry jest and comfortably secure against the raging storm without. Of a sudden, however, the fisherman became grave. “Ah, great God,” saith he, “here we are, rejoicing over this rich treasure and, mayhap, he to whom it once belonged hath lost his life in the waters that robbed him of his possession.”
“Nay, that he hath not,” returned Undine, and she filled the knight’s cup to the brim with a smile.
But Huldbrand answered, “By my honour, old father, an I knew where to find and rescue him, no task of peril by night would I shirk. This much, however, I can promise. If ever it be my lot to return to places where my fellows live, I will seek out the owner of this wine or his heirs, and pay for it two fold or threefold.” The speech pleased the old man full well, he nodded approvingly and drained his cup with greater pleasure and a clearer conscience.
But Undine was not so pleased. “Do as thou wilt,” quoth she, “with thy gold and thy repayment, but about thy venturing out in search, thou spakest foolishly. I should weep full sore if thou wert lost in the attempt; and is it not truth that thou wouldest fain stay with me and the good wine?”
“Ay, in sooth,” quoth Huldbrand, with a smile.
“Then,” saith Undine, “thou words were foolish. For charity, it is said, beginneth at home, and in what do other people concern us?”
The old woman turned away with a sigh, shaking her head, while the fisherman forgot for the nonce his love for the maiden and scolded her. “Thy speech,” saith he, as he finished his reproof, “soundeth as though Turks and heathen had brought thee up. May Heaven forgive both me and thee, thou mannerless girl!”
“Well,” returned Undine, “’tis what I feel for all that, let who will have brought me up, and what availeth thy sermon?”
“Be silent,” cried the fisherman; and Undine, who in spite of her petulance, was very timid, shrank from him. Trembling she nestled close to Huldbrand’s side, and softly murmured, “Art thou also wroth with me, dear friend!” The knight for answer pressed her hand and stroked her hair. Naught could he say, for it irked him that the old people should be so severe against Undine. But he kept his lips closed, and thus they all sat opposite to each other for a while in embarrassed silence with anger in their hearts.