CHAPTER XI.
THE ANNIVERSARY OF BERTALDA'S NAME-DAY.
The company were sitting at dinner; Bertalda, looking like some goddess of spring with her flowers and jewels, the presents of her foster-parents and friends, was placed between Undine and Huldbrand.
When the rich repast was ended, and the last course had appeared, the doors were left open, according to a good old German custom, that the common people might look on, and take part in the festivity of the nobles.

Servants were carrying round cake and wine among the spectators.

Huldbrand and Bertalda were waiting with secret impatience for the promised explanation, and sat with their eyes fixed steadily on Undine.

But the beautiful wife still continued silent, and only kept smiling to herself with secret and hearty satisfaction.

All who knew of the promise she had given could see that she was every moment on the point of betraying her happy secret, and that it was with a sort of longing renunciation that she withheld it, just as children sometimes delay the enjoyment of their choicest morsels.