Of this state of things, however, the knight and his lady were as yet ignorant; besides, whether the public condemned Bertalda or herself, the one view of the affair would have been as distressing to Undine as the other; and thus they came to the conclusion that the wisest course they could take, was to leave behind them the walls of the old city with all the speed in their power.
With the earliest beams of morning, a brilliant carriage for Undine drove up to the door of the inn; the horses of Huldbrand and his attendants stood near, stamping the pavement, impatient to proceed.

The knight was leading his beautiful wife from the door, when a fisher-girl came up and met them in the way.
"We have no need of your fish," said Huldbrand, accosting her; "we are this moment setting out on a journey." Upon this the fisher-girl began to weep bitterly; and then it was that the young couple first perceived it was Bertalda.

They immediately returned with her to their apartment, when she informed them that, owing to her unfeeling and violent conduct of the preceding day, the duke and duchess had been so displeased with her, as entirely to withdraw from her their protection, though not before giving her a generous portion.
The fisherman, too, had received a handsome gift, and had, the evening before, set out with his wife for his peninsula.
"I would have gone with them," she pursued, "but the old fisherman, who is said to be my father--" "He is, in truth, your father, Bertalda," said Undine, interrupting her.
"See, the stranger whom you took for the master of the water-works gave me all the particulars.

He wished to dissuade me from taking you with me to Castle Ringstetten, and therefore disclosed to me the whole mystery." "Well then," continued Bertalda, "my father--if it must needs be so--my father said: 'I will not take you with me until you are changed.

If you will venture to come to us alone through the ill-omened forest, that shall be a proof of your having some regard for us.