In the lowest depths of the river, at the bottom of vast, submerged grottoes, a secret tribunal, presided over by the great Nichus, holds its solemn meetings. Here they are disciplined with the utmost severity, as is abundantly proven by a great number of terrible stories, such as the account of the three Undines of Sinzheim, which the two brothers Grimm report in their great work. Three young girls of marvelous beauty, three sisters, appeared every evening at the social meetings of Epfenbach, near Sinzheim and took their seats among the linen-spinners. They brought new songs and merry stories which no one had heard before. Where did they come from? No one knew, and no one dared to ask for fear of appearing suspicious. They were the delight of these meetings, but as soon as the clock struck ten they rose, and neither prayers nor supplications could induce them to stay a moment longer. {291}One evening the schoolmaster’s son, who had fallen in love with one of them, undertook to prevent their departure at the usual hour; he put back the wooden clock, which usually gave them warning. [Illustration: 311] The next day some people from Sinzheim, who were walking by the side of the lake, heard groans rising from the depths of the lake, while the surface was stained by three large spots of blood. From that time the three sisters were never seen again at the evening assemblies, and the school{292}master’s son faded away gradually. He died very soon afterwards. These three sisters, so gentle, so lovely and laborious, had in nothing betrayed a connection with the spirits of the lower world. The only thing was, that people remembered how the hems of their garments had frequently been wet, a sure sign by which Undines can be recognized. Otherwise they seem to have been very much like other girls, and the severity of the great Nichus appears hardly reasonable. As to this hour of ten o’clock, however, military rules cannot be more rigorous than his. It must, on the other hand, not be imagined that all Undines are as gentle and resigned as these three sisters. There are some who bitterly resent having been abandoned by their lovers, and try to revenge themselves; these seem to partake to some degree of the character of the Nixen, or rather,--why should we not say so at once and quite candidly?--they remain faithful to their instincts as women. As a proof of this statement I will quote a short but perfect little drama, which Miss Margaret Rosahl has, at my request, copied from Busching’s voluminous collection.