parlor-cat; "I have had enough of their mewing."
IX. THE ICE MAIDEN
The walnut and chestnut trees, which extend from the bridge of St.
Maurice, by the river Rhone, to the shores of the lake of Geneva, were
already covered with the delicate green garlands of early spring, just
bursting into bloom, while the Rhone rushed wildly from its source
among the green glaciers which form the ice palace of the Ice
Maiden. She sometimes allows herself to be carried by the keen wind to
the lofty snow-fields, where she stretches herself in the sunshine
on the soft snowy-cushions. From thence she throws her far-seeing
glance into the deep valley beneath, where human beings are busily
moving about like ants on a stone in the sun. "Spirits of strength, as
the children of the sun call you," cried the Ice Maiden, "ye are but
worms! Let but a snow-ball roll, and you and your houses and your
towns are crushed and swept away." And she raised her proud head,
and looked around her with eyes that flashed death from their
glance. From the valley came a rumbling sound; men were busily at work
blasting the rocks to form tunnels, and laying down roads for the
railway. "They are playing at work underground, like moles," said she.
"They are digging passages beneath the earth, and the noise is like
the reports of cannons. I shall throw down my palaces, for the
clamor is louder than the roar of thunder." Then there ascended from
the valley a thick vapor, which waved itself in the air like a
fluttering veil. It rose, as a plume of feathers, from a steam engine,
to which, on the lately-opened railway, a string of carriages was
linked, carriage to carriage, looking like a winding serpent. The
train shot past with the speed of an arrow. "They play at being
masters down there, those spirits of strength!" exclaimed the Ice
Maiden; "but the powers of nature are still the rulers." And she
laughed and sang till her voice sounded through the valley, and people
said it was the rolling of an avalanche. But the children of the sun
sang in louder strains in praise of the mind of man, which can span
the sea as with a yoke, can level mountains, and fill up valleys. It
is the power of thought which gives man the mastery over nature.
Just at this moment there came across the snow-field, where the
Ice Maiden sat, a party of travellers. They had bound themselves
fast to each other, so that they looked like one large body on the
slippery plains of ice encircling the deep abyss.
"Worms!" exclaimed the Ice Maiden. "You, the lords of the powers
of nature!" And she turned away and looked maliciously at the deep
valley where the railway train was rushing by. "There they sit,
these thoughts!" she exclaimed. "There they sit in their power over
nature's strength. I see them all. One sits proudly apart, like a
king; others sit together in a group; yonder, half of them are asleep;
and when the steam dragon stops, they will get out and go their way.
The thoughts go forth into the world," and she laughed.
"There goes another avalanche," said those in the valley beneath.
"It will not reach us," said two who sat together behind the steam
dragon. "Two hearts and one beat," as people say. They were Rudy and
Babette, and the miller was with them. "I am like the luggage," said
he; "I am here as a necessary appendage."
"There sit those two," said the Ice Maiden. "Many a chamois have I
crushed. Millions of Alpine roses have I snapped and broken off; not a
root have I spared. I know them all, and their thoughts, those spirits
of strength!" and again she laughed.
"There rolls another avalanche," said those in the valley.
X. THE GODMOTHER
At Montreux, one of the towns which encircle the northeast part of
the lake of Geneva, lived Babette's godmother, the noble English lady,
with her daughters and a young relative. They had only lately arrived,
yet the miller had paid them a visit, and informed them of Babette's
engagement to Rudy. The whole story of their meeting at Interlachen,
and his brave adventure with the eaglet, were related to them, and
they were all very much interested, and as pleased about Rudy and
Babette as the miller himself. The three were invited to come to
Montreux; it was but right for Babette to become acquainted with her
godmother, who wished to see her very much. A steam-boat started
from the town of Villeneuve, at one end of the lake of Geneva, and
arrived at Bernex, a little town beyond Montreux, in about half an
hour. And in this boat, the miller, with his daughter and Rudy, set
out to visit her godmother. They passed the coast which has been so
celebrated in song. Here, under the walnut-trees, by the deep blue
lake, sat Byron, and wrote his melodious verses about the prisoner
confined in the gloomy castle of Chillon. Here, where Clarens, with
its weeping-willows, is reflected in the clear water, wandered
Rousseau, dreaming of Heloise. The river Rhone glides gently by
beneath the lofty snow-capped hills of Savoy, and not far from its
mouth lies a little island in the lake, so small that, seen from the
shore, it looks like a ship. The surface of the island is rocky; and
about a hundred years ago, a lady caused the ground to be covered with
earth, in which three acacia-trees were planted, and the whole
enclosed with stone walls. The acacia-trees now overshadow every
part of the island. Babette was enchanted with the spot; it seemed
to her the most beautiful object in the whole voyage, and she
thought how much she should like to land there. But the steam-ship
passed it by, and did not stop till it reached Bernex. The little
party walked slowly from this place to Montreux, passing the sun-lit
walls with which the vineyards of the little mountain town of Montreux
are surrounded, and peasants' houses, overshadowed by fig-trees,
with gardens in which grow the laurel and the cypress.
Halfway up the hill stood the boarding-house in which Babette's
godmother resided. She was received most cordially; her godmother
was a very friendly woman, with a round, smiling countenance. When a
child, her head must have resembled one of Raphael's cherubs; it was
still an angelic face, with its white locks of silvery hair. The
daughters were tall, elegant, slender maidens.
The young cousin, whom they had brought with them, was dressed
in white from head to foot; he had golden hair and golden whiskers,
large enough to be divided amongst three gentlemen; and he began
immediately to pay the greatest attention to Babette.
Richly bound books, note-paper, and drawings, lay on the large
table. The balcony window stood open, and from it could be seen the
beautiful wide extended lake, the water so clear and still, that the
mountains of Savoy, with their villages, woods, and snow-crowned
peaks, were clearly reflected in it.
Rudy, who was usually so lively and brave, did not in the least
feel himself at home; he acted as if he were walking on peas, over a
slippery floor. How long and wearisome the time appeared; it was
like being in a treadmill. And then they went out for a walk, which
was very slow and tedious. Two steps forward and one backwards had
Rudy to take to keep pace with the others. They walked down to
Chillon, and went over the old castle on the rocky island. They saw
the implements of torture, the deadly dungeons, the rusty fetters in
the rocky walls, the stone benches for those condemned to death, the
trap-doors through which the unhappy creatures were hurled upon iron
spikes, and impaled alive. They called looking at all these a
pleasure. It certainly was the right place to visit. Byron's poetry
had made it celebrated in the world. Rudy could only feel that it
was a place of execution. He leaned against the stone framework of the
window, and gazed down into the deep, blue water, and over to the
little island with the three acacias, and wished himself there, away
and free from the whole chattering party. But Babette was most
unusually lively and good-tempered.
"I have been so amused," she said.
The cousin had found her quite perfect.
"He is a perfect fop," said Rudy; and this was the first time Rudy
had said anything that did not please Babette.
The Englishman had made her a present of a little book, in
remembrance of their visit to Chillon. It was Byron's poem, "The
Prisoner of Chillon," translated into French, so that Babette could
read it.
"The book may be very good," said Rudy; "but that finely combed
fellow who gave it to you is not worth much."
"He looks something like a flour-sack without any flour," said the
miller, laughing at his own wit. Rudy laughed, too, for so had he
appeared to him.
XI. THE COUSIN
When Rudy went a few days after to pay a visit to the mill, he
found the young Englishman there. Babette was just thinking of
preparing some trout to set before him. She understood well how to
garnish the dish with parsley, and make it look quite tempting. Rudy
thought all this quite unnecessary. What did the Englishman want
there? What was he about? Why should he be entertained, and waited
upon by Babette? Rudy was jealous, and that made Babette happy. It
amused her to discover all the feelings of his heart; the strong
points and weak ones. Love was to her as yet only a pastime, and she
played with Rudy's whole heart. At the same time it must be
acknowledged that her fortune, her whole life, her inmost thoughts,
her best and most noble feelings in this world were all for him. Still
the more gloomy he looked, the more her eyes laughed. She could almost
have kissed the fair Englishman, with the golden whiskers, if by so
doing she could have put Rudy in a rage, and made him run out of the
house. That would have proved how much he loved her. All this was
not right in Babette, but she was only nineteen years of age, and
she did not reflect on what she did, neither did she think that her
conduct would appear to the young Englishman as light, and not even
becoming the modest and much-loved daughter of the miller.
The mill at Bex stood in the highway, which passed under the
snow-clad mountains, and not far from a rapid mountain-stream, whose
waters seemed to have been lashed into a foam like soap-suds. This
stream, however, did not pass near enough to the mill, and therefore
the mill-wheel was turned by a smaller stream which tumbled down the
rocks on the opposite side, where it was opposed by a stone
mill-dam, and obtained greater strength and speed, till it fell into a
large basin, and from thence through a channel to the mill-wheel. This
channel sometimes overflowed, and made the path so slippery that any
one passing that way might easily fall in, and be carried towards
the mill wheel with frightful rapidity. Such a catastrophe nearly
happened to the young Englishman. He had dressed himself in white
clothes, like a miller's man, and was climbing the path to the
miller's house, but he had never been taught to climb, and therefore
slipped, and nearly went in head-foremost. He managed, however, to
scramble out with wet sleeves and bespattered trousers. Still, wet and
splashed with mud, he contrived to reach Babette's window, to which he
had been guided by the light that shone from it. Here he climbed the
old linden-tree that stood near it, and began to imitate the voice
of an owl, the only bird he could venture to mimic. Babette heard
the noise, and glanced through the thin window curtain; but when she
saw the man in white, and guessed who he was, her little heart beat
with terror as well as anger. She quickly put out the light, felt if
the fastening of the window was secure, and then left him to howl as
long as he liked. How dreadful it would be, thought Babette, if Rudy
were here in the house. But Rudy was not in the house. No, it was much
worse, he was outside, standing just under the linden-tree. He was
speaking loud, angry words. He could fight, and there might be murder!
Babette opened the window in alarm, and called Rudy's name; she told
him to go away, she did not wish him to remain there.
"You do not wish me to stay," cried he; "then this is an
appointment you expected- this good friend whom you prefer to me.
Shame on you, Babette!"
"You are detestable!" exclaimed Babette, bursting into tears.
"Go away. I hate you."
"I have not deserved this," said Rudy, as he turned away, his
cheeks burning, and his heart like fire.
Babette threw herself on the bed, and wept bitterly. "So much as I
loved thee, Rudy, and yet thou canst think ill of me."
Thus her anger broke forth; it relieved her, however: otherwise
she would have been more deeply grieved; but now she could sleep
soundly, as youth only can sleep.
XII. EVIL POWERS
Rudy left Bex, and took his way home along the mountain path.
The air was fresh, but cold; for here amidst the deep snow, the Ice
Maiden reigned. He was so high up that the large trees beneath him,
with their thick foliage, appeared like garden plants, and the pines
and bushes even less. The Alpine roses grew near the snow, which lay
in detached stripes, and looked like linen laid out to bleach. A
blue gentian grew in his path, and he crushed it with the butt end
of his gun. A little higher up, he espied two chamois. Rudy's eyes
glistened, and his thoughts flew at once in a different direction; but
he was not near enough to take a sure aim. He ascended still higher,
to a spot where a few rough blades of grass grew between the blocks of
stone and the chamois passed quietly on over the snow-fields. Rudy
walked hurriedly, while the clouds of mist gathered round him.
Suddenly he found himself on the brink of a precipitous rock. The rain
