The knight parted reluctantly from the fair lady and promised to return on the following day. When the appointed time arrived he was already at the tryst, eagerly awaiting the approach of his beloved. When at length she came he renewed his pleadings with even greater ardour, and to his unbounded delight the answer was favourable.
“I am a water-nymph,” said the lady, “the spirit of the stream from which you drank yesterday. You saw me then for the first time, but I have often seen you in the forest—and I have long loved you.”
The knight was more than ever enchanted by this naive confession, and begged that their wedding should not be long delayed.
“There is one condition,” said the nymph. “If you marry me you must remain for ever faithful. Otherwise you must suffer death, and I eternal unhappiness.”
The knight laughed at the bare idea of his proving unfaithful to his beloved, and his vows were sincere.
Shortly afterward they were married, and none supposed the beautiful being to be aught but a very attractive woman; in time there was born to them a little son. The knight adored both wife and child, and for some years lived a life of ideal domestic happiness. But there came a time when another interest entered into his life. Rumours of fighting reached him from France; he saw the knights of neighbouring fortresses leading their troops to the war, and a martial spirit stirred within him. His wife was not slow to observe that his world was no longer bounded by the castle-walls of Staufenberg, and she wisely resolved not to stand in the way of her lord’s ambitions, but rather, if possible, to help them to an honourable realization. So with much labour and skill she made him a strangely wrought belt, which she gave him at once as a love-token and a charm to secure success in battle. She concealed her grief at his departure and bade him farewell bravely.
At the head of his troop the knight rode boldly into France and offered his services to a distinguished French leader, to whom he soon became indispensable—so much so, in fact, that the nobleman cast about for a means of retaining permanently in his train a knight of such skill and courage. But he could think of nothing with which to tempt the young man, who was already possessed of gold and lands, till the artless glances of his youngest daughter gave him his cue. For he saw that she had lately begun to look with some favour on the simple knight of Staufenberg, and it occurred to him that the hand of a lady of rank and beauty would be a very desirable bait. Nor was he mistaken, for the gaieties of the Frankish court had dazzled the knight, and the offer of the lady’s hand completely turned his head; not that he felt a great affection for her, but because of the honour done to him. So he accepted the offer and drowned, as best as he could, the remembrance of his wife and child at Staufenberg. Nevertheless he sometimes felt that he was not acting honourably, and at length the struggle between his love for his wife and his pride and ambition became so severe that he determined to consult a priest.
The good man crossed himself when he heard the story. “She whom you married is an evil spirit,” said he. “Beneficent spirits do not wed human beings. It is your duty to renounce her at once and do penance for your sin.” Though he hardly found it possible to believe the priest’s assertion, the knight strove to persuade himself that it was true, and that he was really acting virtuously in renouncing the water-nymph and marrying again. So he performed the penances prescribed by the priest, and allowed the wedding preparations to proceed.
When the day of his wedding arrived, however, he was strangely perturbed and pale. The rejoicings of the people, the gay processions, even the beautiful bride, seemed to have no interest for him. When the hand of the lady was placed in his he could not repress an exclamation; it was cold to the touch like the hand of a corpse.
On returning the wedding procession was obliged to cross a bridge, and as they approached it a great storm arose so that the waters of the stream washed over the feet of the bridegroom’s horse, making it prance and rear. The knight was stricken with deadly terror, for he knew that the doom of which the water-nymph had spoken was about to overtake him. Without a word he plunged into the torrent and was nevermore seen.