"Take this," said she, holding it out kindly to Bertalda, "I have ordered it to be brought to make some amends for your loss; so do not grieve any more, poor child." But the knight rushed between then, and snatching the beautiful ornament out of Undine's hand, hurled it back into the flood; and, mad with rage, exclaimed: "So, then, you have still a connection with them! In the name of all witches go and remain among them with your presents, you sorceress, and leave us human beings in peace!" With fixed but streaming eyes, poor Undine gazed on him, her hand still stretched out, just as when she had so lovingly offered her brilliant gift to Bertalda.

She then began to weep more and more, as if her heart would break, like an innocent tender child, cruelly aggrieved.

At last, wearied out, she said: "Farewell, dearest, farewell.

They shall do you no harm; only remain true, that I may have power to keep them from you.
But I must go hence! go hence even in this early youth! Oh, woe, woe! what have you done! Oh, woe, woe!" And she vanished over the side of the boat.

Whether she plunged into the stream, or whether, like water melting into water, she flowed away with it, they knew not--her disappearance was like both and neither.