Bertalda live at the castle, now that the knight had lost his wife. "Whether my daughter love me or no," quoth he, "concerneth me not; it is her honour that is at stake, and where that speaketh clear, there is naught further to be said."
Now when the knight learnt that the fisherman was thus minded, and when he bethought himself how lonely his life would be among the halls and galleries of the empty castle with Bertalda gone away, full soon he felt anew what until now he had forgotten in his grief for Undine–his love for the beautiful Bertalda. Certès, for a marriage thus suggested and proposed, the fisherman had but little inclination. Undine had been exceedingly dear to the old man, nor yet could he hold it for certain that she was dead. And if in sooth her body lay cold and stark at the bottom of the Danube, or had floated away with the current into the ocean, even so, on Bertalda's head for sure rested the blame for her death. How could it be seemly that she should step into the dead wife's shoes? Yet, for the knight, too, the fisherman had a strong liking; while to his daughter's prayers he must needs also pay some heed, now that she wept for the loss of Undine. For one cause or another his consent must have been given at the last, for he stayed on at the castle without making further ado. Moreover a messenger was sent for Father Heilmann. As he had made Huldbrand and Undine man and wife in happy days gone by, so now for the second marriage
