great distance; and among these shattered branches lay Rudy's uncle,
with his skull fractured. When they found him, his hand was still
warm; but it would have been impossible to recognize his face. Rudy
stood by, pale and trembling; it was the first shock of his life,
the first time he had ever felt fear. Late in the evening he
returned home with the fatal news,- to that home which was now to be
so full of sorrow. His uncle's wife uttered not a word, nor shed a
tear, till the corpse was brought in; then her agony burst forth.
The poor cretin crept away to his bed, and nothing was seen of him
during the whole of the following day. Towards evening, however, he
came to Rudy, and said, "Will you write a letter for me? Saperli
cannot write; Saperli can only take the letters to the post."
"A letter for you!" said Rudy; "who do you wish to write to?"
"To the Lord Christ," he replied.
"What do you mean?" asked Rudy.
Then the poor idiot, as the cretin was often called, looked at
Rudy with a most touching expression in his eyes, clasped his hands,
and said, solemnly and devoutly, "Saperli wants to send a letter to
Jesus Christ, to pray Him to let Saperli die, and not the master of
the house here."
Rudy pressed his hand, and replied, "A letter would not reach
Him up above; it would not give him back whom we have lost."
It was not, however, easy for Rudy to convince Saperli of the
impossibility of doing what he wished.
"Now you must work for us," said his foster-mother; and Rudy
very soon became the entire support of the house.
BABETTE
IV. BABETTE
Who was the best marksman in the canton Valais? The chamois knew
well. "Save yourselves from Rudy," they might well say. And who is the
handsomest marksman? "Oh, it is Rudy," said the maidens; but they
did not say, "Save yourselves from Rudy." Neither did anxious
mothers say so; for he bowed to them as pleasantly as to the young
girls. He was so brave and cheerful. His cheeks were brown, his
teeth white, and his eyes dark and sparkling. He was now a handsome
young man of twenty years. The most icy water could not deter him from
swimming; he could twist and turn like a fish. None could climb like
he, and he clung as firmly to the edges of the rocks as a limpet. He
had strong muscular power, as could be seen when he leapt from rock to
rock. He had learnt this first from the cat, and more lately from
the chamois. Rudy was considered the best guide over the mountains;
every one had great confidence in him. He might have made a great deal
of money as guide. His uncle had also taught him the trade of a
cooper; but he had no inclination for either; his delight was in
chamois-hunting, which also brought him plenty of money. Rudy would be
a very good match, as people said, if he would not look above his
own station. He was also such a famous partner in dancing, that the
girls often dreamt about him, and one and another thought of him
even when awake.
"He kissed me in the dance," said Annette, the schoolmaster's
daughter, to her dearest friend; but she ought not to have told
this, even to her dearest friend. It is not easy to keep such secrets;
they are like sand in a sieve; they slip out. It was therefore soon
known that Rudy, so brave and so good as he was, had kissed some one
while dancing, and yet he had never kissed her who was dearest to him.
"Ah, ah," said an old hunter, "he has kissed Annette, has he? he
has begun with A, and I suppose he will kiss through the whole
alphabet."
But a kiss in the dance was all the busy tongues could accuse
him of. He certainly had kissed Annette, but she was not the flower of
his heart.
Down in the valley, near Bex, among the great walnut-trees, by the
side of a little rushing mountain-stream, lived a rich miller. His
dwelling-house was a large building, three storeys high, with little
turrets. The roof was covered with chips, bound together with tin
plates, that glittered in sunshine and in the moonlight. The largest
of the turrets had a weather-cock, representing an apple pierced by
a glittering arrow, in memory of William Tell. The mill was a neat and
well-ordered place, that allowed itself to be sketched and written
about; but the miller's daughter did not permit any to sketch or write
about her. So, at least, Rudy would have said, for her image was
pictured in his heart; her eyes shone in it so brightly, that quite
a flame had been kindled there; and, like all other fires, it had
burst forth so suddenly, that the miller's daughter, the beautiful
Babette, was quite unaware of it. Rudy had never spoken a word to
her on the subject. The miller was rich, and, on that account, Babette
stood very high, and was rather difficult to aspire to. But said
Rudy to himself, "Nothing is too high for a man to reach: he must
climb with confidence in himself, and he will not fail." He had learnt
this lesson in his youthful home.
It happened once that Rudy had some business to settle at Bex.
It was a long journey at that time, for the railway had not been
opened. From the glaciers of the Rhone, at the foot of the Simplon,
between its ever-changing mountain summits, stretches the valley of
the canton Valais. Through it runs the noble river of the Rhone, which
often overflows its banks, covering fields and highways, and
destroying everything in its course. Near the towns of Sion and St.
Maurice, the valley takes a turn, and bends like an elbow, and
behind St. Maurice becomes so narrow that there is only space enough
for the bed of the river and a narrow carriage-road. An old tower
stands here, as if it were guardian to the canton Valais, which ends
at this point; and from it we can look across the stone bridge to
the toll-house on the other side, where the canton Vaud commences. Not
far from this spot stands the town of Bex, and at every step can be
seen an increase of fruitfulness and verdure. It is like entering a
grove of chestnut and walnut-trees. Here and there the cypress and
pomegranate blossoms peep forth; and it is almost as warm as an
Italian climate. Rudy arrived at Bex, and soon finished the business
which had brought him there, and then walked about the town; but not
even the miller's boy could be seen, nor any one belonging to the
mill, not to mention Babette. This did not please him at all.
Evening came on. The air was filled with the perfume of the wild thyme
and the blossoms of the lime-trees, and the green woods on the
mountains seemed to be covered with a shining veil, blue as the sky.
Over everything reigned a stillness, not of sleep or of death, but
as if Nature were holding her breath, that her image might be
photographed on the blue vault of heaven. Here and there, amidst the
trees of the silent valley, stood poles which supported the wires of
the electric telegraph. Against one of these poles leaned an object so
motionless that it might have been mistaken for the trunk of a tree;
but it was Rudy, standing there as still as at that moment was
everything around him. He was not asleep, neither was he dead; but
just as the various events in the world- matters of momentous
importance to individuals- were flying through the telegraph wires,
without the quiver of a wire or the slightest tone, so, through the
mind of Rudy, thoughts of overwhelming importance were passing,
without an outward sign of emotion. The happiness of his future life
depended upon the decision of his present reflections. His eyes were
fixed on one spot in the distance- a light that twinkled through the
foliage from the parlor of the miller's house, where Babette dwelt.
Rudy stood so still, that it might have been supposed he was
watching for a chamois; but he was in reality like a chamois, who will
stand for a moment, looking as if it were chiselled out of the rock,
and then, if only a stone rolled by, would suddenly bound forward with
a spring, far away from the hunter. And so with Rudy: a sudden roll of
his thoughts roused him from his stillness, and made him bound forward
with determination to act.
"Never despair!" cried he. "A visit to the mill, to say good
evening to the miller, and good evening to little Babette, can do no
harm. No one ever fails who has confidence in himself. If I am to be
Babette's husband, I must see her some time or other."
Then Rudy laughed joyously, and took courage to go to the mill. He
knew what he wanted; he wanted to marry Babette. The clear water of
the river rolled over its yellow bed, and willows and lime-trees
were reflected in it, as Rudy stepped along the path to the miller's
house. But, as the children sing-
"There was no one at home in the house,
Only a kitten at play."
The cat standing on the steps put up its back and cried "mew." But
Rudy had no inclination for this sort of conversation; he passed on,
and knocked at the door. No one heard him, no one opened the door.
"Mew," said the cat again; and had Rudy been still a child, he would
have understood this language, and known that the cat wished to tell
him there was no one at home. So he was obliged to go to the mill
and make inquiries, and there he heard that the miller had gone on a
journey to Interlachen, and taken Babette with him, to the great
shooting festival, which began that morning, and would continue for
eight days, and that people from all the German settlements would be
there.
Poor Rudy! we may well say. It was not a fortunate day for his
visit to Bex. He had just to return the way he came, through St.
Maurice and Sion, to his home in the valley. But he did not despair.
When the sun rose the next morning, his good spirits had returned;
indeed he had never really lost them. "Babette is at Interlachen,"
said Rudy to himself, "many days' journey from here. It is certainly a
long way for any one who takes the high-road, but not so far if he
takes a short cut across the mountain, and that just suits a
chamois-hunter. I have been that way before, for it leads to the
home of my childhood, where, as a little boy, I lived with my
grandfather. And there are shooting matches at Interlachen. I will go,
and try to stand first in the match. Babette will be there, and I
shall be able to make her acquaintance."
Carrying his light knapsack, which contained his Sunday clothes,
on his back, and with his musket and his game-bag over his shoulder,
Rudy started to take the shortest way across the mountain. Still it
was a great distance. The shooting matches were to commence on that
day, and to continue for a whole week. He had been told also that
the miller and Babette would remain that time with some relatives at
Interlachen. So over the Gemmi Rudy climbed bravely, and determined to
descend the side of the Grindelwald. Bright and joyous were his
feelings as he stepped lightly onwards, inhaling the invigorating
mountain air. The valley sunk as he ascended, the circle of the
horizon expanded. One snow-capped peak after another rose before
him, till the whole of the glittering Alpine range became visible.
Rudy knew each ice-clad peak, and he continued his course towards
the Schreckhorn, with its white powdered stone finger raised high in
the air. At length he had crossed the highest ridges, and before him
lay the green pasture lands sloping down towards the valley, which was
once his home. The buoyancy of the air made his heart light. Hill
and valley were blooming in luxuriant beauty, and his thoughts were
youthful dreams, in which old age or death were out of the question.
Life, power, and enjoyment were in the future, and he felt free and
light as a bird. And the swallows flew round him, as in the days of
his childhood, singing "We and you- you and we." All was overflowing
with joy. Beneath him lay the meadows, covered with velvety green,
with the murmuring river flowing through them, and dotted here and
there were small wooden houses. He could see the edges of the
glaciers, looking like green glass against the soiled snow, and the
deep chasms beneath the loftiest glacier. The church bells were
ringing, as if to welcome him to his home with their sweet tones.
His heart beat quickly, and for a moment he seemed to have
foregotten Babette, so full were his thoughts of old recollections. He
was, in imagination, once more wandering on the road where, when a
little boy, he, with other children, came to sell their curiously
carved toy houses. Yonder, behind the fir-trees, still stood his
grandfather's house, his mother's father, but strangers dwelt in it
now. Children came running to him, as he had once done, and wished
to sell their wares. One of them offered him an Alpine rose. Rudy took
the rose as a good omen, and thought of Babette. He quickly crossed
the bridge where the two rivers flow into each other. Here he found
a walk over-shadowed with large walnut-trees, and their thick
foliage formed a pleasant shade. Very soon he perceived in the
distance, waving flags, on which glittered a white cross on a red
ground- the standard of the Danes as well as of the Swiss- and
before him lay Interlachen.
"It is really a splendid town, like none other that I have ever
seen," said Rudy to himself. It was indeed a Swiss town in its holiday
dress. Not like the many other towns, crowded with heavy stone houses,
stiff and foreign looking. No; here it seemed as if the wooden
houses on the hills had run into the valley, and placed themselves
in rows and ranks by the side of the clear river, which rushes like an
arrow in its course. The streets were rather irregular, it is true,
but still this added to their picturesque appearance. There was one
street which Rudy thought the prettiest of them all; it had been built
since he had visited the town when a little boy. It seemed to him as
