and the Black Valley terrifies me." Naught more of either then did she learn. And, indeed, why should she? Peace and joy had visibly come to stay at Castle Ringstetten. Real security was theirs, or so they deemed–why should life produce aught but flowers and fruit?
In conditions like these winter had come and passed away, and spring with her green buds and blue sky visited the happy inmates of the castle. Spring was in tune with their hearts and their hearts with spring. What wonder then if her storks and swallows awoke in them also a wish to travel?
One day, as they were sauntering to one of the sources of the Danube, Huldbrand spoke of the majesty of the noble river, and how it flowed on, ever widening, through fertile lands; how the glory of Vienna rose on its banks, and new might and loveliness were revealed in every tract and reach of its course.
"It must be glorious to sail down the river to Vienna," exclaimed Bertalda; then falling back on her present mood of humbleness and reserve, she coloured deeply and was silent.
Undine was much touched thereby, and with an eager wish to please her friend, she said: "What hinders us from taking this voyage?" Bertalda was delighted, and forthwith both began to picture to themselves in the most glowing colours the delight of travel on the Danube. Hulbrand also gladly agreed; yet once he whispered in Undine's ear:
