if all the neatest and most curiously carved toy houses which his
grandfather once kept in the large cupboard at home, had been
brought out and placed in this spot, and that they had increased in
size since then, as the old chestnut trees had done. The houses were
called hotels; the woodwork on the windows and balconies was curiously
carved. The roofs were gayly painted, and before each house was a
flower garden, which separated it from the macadamized high-road.
These houses all stood on the same side of the road, so that the
fresh, green meadows, in which were cows grazing, with bells on
their necks, were not hidden. The sound of these bells is often
heard amidst Alpine scenery. These meadows were encircled by lofty
hills, which receded a little in the centre, so that the most
beautifully formed of Swiss mountains- the snow-crowned Jungfrau-
could be distinctly seen glittering in the distance. A number of
elegantly dressed gentlemen and ladies from foreign lands, and
crowds of country people from the neighboring cantons, were
assembled in the town. Each marksman wore the number of hits he had
made twisted in a garland round his hat. Here were music and singing
of all descriptions: hand-organs, trumpets, shouting, and noise. The
houses and bridges were adorned with verses and inscriptions. Flags
and banners were waving. Shot after shot was fired, which was the best
music to Rudy's ears. And amidst all this excitement he quite forgot
Babette, on whose account only he had come. The shooters were
thronging round the target, and Rudy was soon amongst them. But when
he took his turn to fire, he proved himself the best shot, for he
always struck the bull's-eye.
"Who may that young stranger be?" was the inquiry on all sides.
"He speaks French as it is spoken in the Swiss cantons."
"And makes himself understood very well when he speaks German,"
said some.
"He lived here, when a child, with his grandfather, in a house
on the road to Grindelwald," remarked one of the sportsmen.
And full of life was this young stranger; his eyes sparkled, his
glance was steady, and his arm sure, therefore he always hit the mark.
Good fortune gives courage, and Rudy was always courageous. He soon
had a circle of friends gathered round him. Every one noticed him, and
did him homage. Babette had quite vanished from his thoughts, when
he was struck on the shoulder by a heavy hand, and a deep voice said
to him in French, "You are from the canton Valais."
Rudy turned round, and beheld a man with a ruddy, pleasant face,
and a stout figure. It was the rich miller from Bex. His broad, portly
person, hid the slender, lovely Babette; but she came forward and
glanced at him with her bright, dark eyes. The rich miller was very
much flattered at the thought that the young man, who was acknowledged
to be the best shot, and was so praised by every one, should be from
his own canton. Now was Rudy really fortunate: he had travelled all
this way to this place, and those he had forgotten were now come to
seek him. When country people go far from home, they often meet with
those they know, and improve their acquaintance. Rudy, by his
shooting, had gained the first place in the shooting-match, just as
the miller at home at Bex stood first, because of his money and his
mill. So the two men shook hands, which they had never done before.
Babette, too, held out her hand to Rudy frankly, and he pressed it
in his, and looked at her so earnestly, that she blushed deeply. The
miller talked of the long journey they had travelled, and of the
many towns they had seen. It was his opinion that he had really made
as great a journey as if he had travelled in a steamship, a railway
carriage, or a post-chaise.
"I came by a much shorter way," said Rudy; "I came over the
mountains. There is no road so high that a man may not venture upon
it."
"Ah, yes; and break your neck," said the miller; "and you look
like one who will break his neck some day, you are so daring."
"Oh, nothing ever happens to a man if he has confidence in
himself," replied Rudy.
The miller's relations at Interlachen, with whom the miller and
Babette were staying, invited Rudy to visit them, when they found he
came from the same canton as the miller. It was a most pleasant visit.
Good fortune seemed to follow him, as it does those who think and
act for themselves, and who remember the proverb, "Nuts are given to
us, but they are not cracked for us." And Rudy was treated by the
miller's relations almost like one of the family, and glasses of
wine were poured out to drink to the welfare of the best shooter.
Babette clinked glasses with Rudy, and he returned thanks for the
toast. In the evening they all took a delightful walk under the
walnut-trees, in front of the stately hotels; there were so many
people, and such crowding, that Rudy was obliged to offer his arm to
Babette. Then he told her how happy it made him to meet people from
the canton Vaud,- for Vaud and Valais were neighboring cantons. He
spoke of this pleasure so heartily that Babette could not resist
giving his arm a slight squeeze; and so they walked on together, and
talked and chatted like old acquaintances. Rudy felt inclined to laugh
sometimes at the absurd dress and walk of the foreign ladies; but
Babette did not wish to make fun of them, for she knew there must be
some good, excellent people amongst them; she, herself, had a
godmother, who was a high-born English lady. Eighteen years before,
when Babette was christened, this lady was staying at Bex, and she
stood godmother for her, and gave her the valuable brooch she now wore
in her bosom.
Her godmother had twice written to her, and this year she was
expected to visit Interlachen with her two daughters; "but they are
old-maids," added Babette, who was only eighteen: "they are nearly
thirty." Her sweet little mouth was never still a moment, and all that
she said sounded in Rudy's ears as matters of the greatest importance,
and at last he told her what he was longing to tell. How often he
had been at Bex, how well he knew the mill, and how often he had
seen Babette, when most likely she had not noticed him; and lastly,
that full of many thoughts which he could not tell her, he had been to
the mill on the evening when she and her father has started on their
long journey, but not too far for him to find a way to overtake
them. He told her all this, and a great deal more; he told her how
much he could endure for her; and that it was to see her, and not
the shooting-match, which had brought him to Interlachen. Babette
became quite silent after hearing all this; it was almost too much,
and it troubled her.
And while they thus wandered on, the sun sunk behind the lofty
mountains. The Jungfrau stood out in brightness and splendor, as a
back-ground to the green woods of the surrounding hills. Every one
stood still to look at the beautiful sight, Rudy and Babette among
them.
"Nothing can be more beautiful than this," said Babette.
"Nothing!" replied Rudy, looking at Babette.
"To-morrow I must return home," remarked Rudy a few minutes
afterwards.
"Come and visit us at Bex," whispered Babette; "my father will
be pleased to see you."
V. ON THE WAY HOME
Oh, what a number of things Rudy had to carry over the
mountains, when he set out to return home! He had three silver cups,
two handsome pistols, and a silver coffee-pot. This latter would be
useful when he began housekeeping. But all these were not the heaviest
weight he had to bear; something mightier and more important he
carried with him in his heart, over the high mountains, as he
journeyed homeward.
The weather was dismally dark, and inclined to rain; the clouds
hung low, like a mourning veil on the tops of the mountains, and
shrouded their glittering peaks. In the woods could be heard the sound
of the axe and the heavy fall of the trunks of the trees, as they
rolled down the slopes of the mountains. When seen from the heights,
the trunks of these trees looked like slender stems; but on a nearer
inspection they were found to be large and strong enough for the masts
of a ship. The river murmured monotonously, the wind whistled, and the
clouds sailed along hurriedly.
Suddenly there appeared, close by Rudy's side, a young maiden;
he had not noticed her till she came quite near to him. She was also
going to ascend the mountain. The maiden's eyes shone with an
unearthly power, which obliged you to look into them; they were
strange eyes,- clear, deep, and unfathomable.
"Hast thou a lover?" asked Rudy; all his thoughts were naturally
on love just then.
"I have none," answered the maiden, with a laugh; it was as if she
had not spoken the truth.
"Do not let us go such a long way round," said she. "We must
keep to the left; it is much shorter."
"Ah, yes," he replied; "and fall into some crevasse. Do you
pretend to be a guide, and not know the road better than that?"
"I know every step of the way," said she; "and my thoughts are
collected, while yours are down in the valley yonder. We should
think of the Ice Maiden while we are up here; men say she is not
kind to their race."
"I fear her not," said Rudy. "She could not keep me when I was a
child; I will not give myself up to her now I am a man."
Darkness came on, the rain fell, and then it began to snow, and
the whiteness dazzled the eyes.
"Give me your hand," said the maiden; "I will help you to
mount." And he felt the touch of her icy fingers.
"You help me," cried Rudy; "I do not yet require a woman to help
me to climb." And he stepped quickly forwards away from her.
The drifting snow-shower fell like a veil between them, the wind
whistled, and behind him he could hear the maiden laughing and
singing, and the sound was most strange to hear.
"It certainly must be a spectre or a servant of the Ice Maiden,"
thought Rudy, who had heard such things talked about when he was a
little boy, and had stayed all night on the mountain with the guides.
The snow fell thicker than ever, the clouds lay beneath him; he
looked back, there was no one to be seen, but he heard sounds of
mocking laughter, which were not those of a human voice.
When Rudy at length reached the highest part of the mountain,
where the path led down to the valley of the Rhone, the snow had
ceased, and in the clear heavens he saw two bright stars twinkling.
They reminded him of Babette and of himself, and of his future
happiness, and his heart glowed at the thought.
VI. THE VISIT TO THE MILL
"What beautiful things you have brought home!" said his old
foster-mother; and her strange-looking eagle-eyes sparkled, while
she wriggled and twisted her skinny neck more quickly and strangely
than ever. "You have brought good luck with you, Rudy. I must give you
a kiss, my dear boy."
Rudy allowed himself to be kissed; but it could be seen by his
countenance that he only endured the infliction as a homely duty.
"How handsome you are, Rudy!" said the old woman.
"Don't flatter," said Rudy, with a laugh; but still he was
pleased.
"I must say once more," said the old woman, "that you are very
lucky."
"Well, in that I believe you are right," said he, as he thought of
Babette. Never had he felt such a longing for that deep valley as he
now had. "They must have returned home by this time," said he to
himself, "it is already two days over the time which they fixed
upon. I must go to Bex."
So Rudy set out to go to Bex; and when he arrived there, he
found the miller and his daughter at home. They received him kindly,
and brought him many greetings from their friends at Interlachen.
Babette did not say much. She seemed to have become quite silent;
but her eyes spoke, and that was quite enough for Rudy. The miller had
generally a great deal to talk about, and seemed to expect that
every one should listen to his jokes, and laugh at them; for was not
he the rich miller? But now he was more inclined to hear Rudy's
adventures while hunting and travelling, and to listen to his
descriptions of the difficulties the chamois-hunter has to overcome on
the mountain-tops, or of the dangerous snow-drifts which the wind
and weather cause to cling to the edges of the rocks, or to lie in the
form of a frail bridge over the abyss beneath. The eyes of the brave
Rudy sparkled as he described the life of a hunter, or spoke of the
cunning of the chamois and their wonderful leaps; also of the powerful
fohn and the rolling avalanche. He noticed that the more he described,
the more interested the miller became, especially when he spoke of the
fierce vulture and of the royal eagle. Not far from Bex, in the canton
Valais, was an eagle's nest, more curiously built under a high,
over-hanging rock. In this nest was a young eagle; but who would
venture to take it? A young Englishman had offered Rudy a whole
handful of gold, if he would bring him the young eagle alive.
"There is a limit to everything," was Rudy's reply. "The eagle
could not be taken; it would be folly to attempt it."
The wine was passed round freely, and the conversation kept up
pleasantly; but the evening seemed too short for Rudy, although it was
midnight when he left the miller's house, after this his first visit.
While the lights in the windows of the miller's house still
twinkled through the green foliage, out through the open skylight came
the parlor-cat on to the roof, and along the water-pipe walked the
