CHAPTER 7.
The writer of this tale, both because it moves his own heart and he wishes it to move that of others, asks a favour of you, dear reader.
Forgive him if he passes over a considerable space of time in a few words, and only tells you generally what therein happened.

He knows well that it might be unfolded skilfully, and step by step, how Huldbrand's heart began to turn from Undine and towards Bertalda--how Bertalda met the young knight with ardent love, and how they both looked upon the poor wife as a mysterious being, more to be dreaded than pitied--how Undine wept, and her tears stung the conscience of her husband, without recalling his former love; so that though at times he showed kindness to her, a cold shudder soon forced him to turn from her to his fellow-mortal Bertalda;--all this, the writer knows, might have been drawn out fully, and perhaps it ought to have been.

But it would have made him too sad; for he has witnessed such things, and shrinks from recalling even their shadow.

Thou knowest, probably, the like feeling, dear reader; for it is the lot of mortal man.

Happy art thou if thou hast received the injury, not inflicted it; for in this case it is more blessed to receive than to give.