A little while after, as they stood at the door together, looking over the fair scene with its boundary of clear waters, his heart yearned so toward this cradle of his love that he said:  “But why should we go away so soon? we shall never spend happier days in yonder world, than we have passed in this peaceful nook.  Let us at least see two or three more suns go down here.”—­“As my Lord wishes,” answered Undine, with cheerful submission; “but, you see, the old people will be grieved at parting with me, whenever it is; and if we give them time to become acquainted with my soul, and with its new powers of loving and honouring them, I fear that when I go, their aged hearts will break under the load of sorrow.  As yet, they take my gentle mood for a passing whim, such as they saw me liable to formerly, like a calm on the lake when the winds are lulled; and they will soon begin to love some favourite tree or flower in my place.  They must not learn to know this newly obtained, affectionate heart, in the first overflowings of its tenderness, just at the moment when they are to lose me for this world; and how could I disguise it from them, if we remained together longer?”

Huldbrand agreed with her; he went to the old couple and finding them ready to consent, he resolved upon setting out that very hour.  The Priest offered to accompany them; after a hasty farewell, the pretty bride was placed on the horse by her husband, and they crossed the stream’s dry bed quickly, and entered the forest.  Undine shed silent but bitter tears, while the old folks wailed after her aloud.  It seemed as if some foreboding were crossing their minds, of how great their loss would prove.

The three travellers reached the deepest shades of the forest, without breaking silence.  It was a fair sight to behold, as they passed through the leafy bowers:  the graceful woman sitting on her noble steed, guarded on one side by the venerable Priest in the white habit of his order; on the other, by the youthful Knight, with his gorgeous attire and glittering sword.  Huldbrand had no eyes but for his precious wife; Undine, who had dried her duteous tears, no thought but for him; and they soon fell into a noiseless interchange of glances and signs, which at length was interrupted by the sound of a low murmur, proceeding from the Priest and a fourth fellow-traveller, who had joined them unobserved.  He wore a white robe, very like the Priest’s dress, except that the hood almost covered his face, and the rest of it floated round him in such large folds that he was perpetually obliged to gather up, throw it over his arm, or otherwise arrange it; yet it did not seem to impede him at all in walking; when the young people saw him he was saying, “And so, my worthy father, I have dwelt in the forest for many a year, yet I am not what you commonly call a hermit.  For, as I told you, I know nothing of penance, nor do I think it would do me much good.  What makes me so fond of the woods is, that I have a very particular