Huldbrand often said in his own mind, “This comes when like marries not like—­when a man forms an unnatural union with a sea-maiden.”  Excusing himself, as we all love to do, he would add:  “I did not, in fact, know that she was a maid of the sea.  It is my misfortune that my steps are haunted and disturbed by the wild humours of her kindred, but it is not my crime.”

By reflections like these, he felt himself in some measure strengthened; but, on the other hand, he felt the more ill-humour, almost dislike, towards Undine.  He would look angrily at her, and the unhappy wife but too well understood his meaning.  One day, grieved by this unkindness, as well as exhausted by her unremitted exertions to frustrate the artifices of Kuhleborn, she toward evening fell into a deep slumber, rocked and soothed by the gentle motion of the bark.  But hardly had she closed her eyes, when every person in the boat, in whatever direction he might look, saw the head of a man, frightful beyond imagination:  each head rose out of the waves, not like that of a person swimming, but quite perpendicular, as if firmly fastened to the watery mirror, and yet moving on with the bark.  Every one wished to show to his companion what terrified himself, and each perceived the same expression of horror on the face of the other, only hands and eyes were directed to a different quarter, as if to a point where the monster, half laughing and half threatening, rose opposite to each.

When, however, they wished to make one another understand the site, and all cried out, “Look, there!” “No, there!” the frightful heads all became visible to each, and the whole river around the boat swarmed with the most horrible faces.  All raised a scream of terror at the sight, and Undine started from sleep.  As she opened her eyes, the deformed visages disappeared.  But Huldbrand was made furious by so many hideous visions.  He would have burst out in wild imprecations, had not Undine with the meekest looks and gentlest tone of voice said—­

“For God’s sake, my husband, do not express displeasure against me here—­we are on the water.”

The knight was silent, and sat down absorbed in deep thought.  Undine whispered in his ear, “Would it not be better, my love, to give up this foolish voyage, and return to Castle Ringstetten in peace?”

But Huldbrand murmured wrathfully:  “So I must become a prisoner in my own castle, and not be allowed to breathe a moment but while the fountain is covered?  Would to Heaven that your cursed kindred—­”

Then Undine pressed her fair hand on his lips caressingly.  He said no more; but in silence pondered on all that Undine had before said.