He was quivering with excitement at this moment, the result of
the thought of a kiss--and his blue eyes blazed with desire as they
devoured her face.
"Yes--it is so," said the lady, a low note in her voice. "Because
Huldebrand gave Undine a soul with a kiss."
"Tell me about it," implored Paul. "I am so ignorant. Who was
Huldebrand, and what did he do?"
So she began in a dreamy voice, and you who have read De la Motte
Fouque's dry version of this exquisite legend would hardly have
recognised the poetry and pathos and tender sentiment she wove round
those two, and the varied moods of Undine, and the passion of her
knight. And when she came to the evening of their wedding, when the
young priest had placed their hands together, and listened to their
vows--when Undine had found her soul at last, in Huldebrand's
arms--her voice faltered, and she stopped and looked down.
"And then?" said Paul, and his breath came rather fast. "And then?"
"He was a man, you see, Paul; so when he had won her love, he did not
value it--he threw it away."
"Oh, no! I don't believe it!" Paul exclaimed vehemently. "It was just
this brute Huldebrand. But you don't know men--to think they do not
value what they win--you don't know them, indeed!"
She looked down straight into his face, as he gazed up at her, and to
his intense surprise he could have sworn her eyes were green now! as
green as emeralds.
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