THE ICE MAIDEN

I  LITTLE RUDY

 

LET us visit Switzerland，and wander through the glorious land of mountains， where the forests cling to the steep walls of rock；let us mount up to the dazzling snowfields， and then descend into the green valleys through which rivers and brooks are rushing，hurrying on as if they could not reach the sea and disappear there quickly enough．The sun looks hotly down upon the deep valley， and it glares likewise upon the heavy masses of snow， so that they harden in the course of centuries into gleaming blocks of ice， or form themselves into falling avalanches， or become piled up into glaciers．Two such glaciers lie in the broad rocky gorges under the “Schreckhorn” and the “Wetterhorn”， by the little mountain town of Grindelwald：they are wonderful  to behold， and therefore in the summertime many strangers come from all parts of the world to see them．The strangers come across the lofty snow－covered mountains， they come through the deep valleys and in this latter case they must climb for several hours， and， as they climb， the valley seems to be descending behind them，deeper and deeper，and they look down upon it as out of a balloon． Above them the clouds often hang like thick heavy veils of smoke over the mountain－tops，while a sunbeam still penetrates into the valley， through which the many brown wooden houses lie scattered，making one particular spot stand forth in shining transparent green． Down there the water hums and gushes，while above， it purls and ripples and looks like silver bands fluttering down the mountain．

On both sides of the road that leads uphill，stand wooden houses．Each has its potato patch；and this is a necessity， for there are many little mouths in those cottages—plenty of children are there， who can eat up their share right heartily．They peep forth everywhere，and gather round the traveller， whether he be on foot or in a carriage．All the children here carry on a trade：the little people offer carved houses for sale， models of those that are built here in the mountains．In rain or in sunshine，there are the children offering their wares．

About twenty years ago， a little boy might often be seen standing there， anxious to carry on his trade，but al-ways standing a short distance away from the rest． He would stand there with a very grave face， holding his little box with the carved toys so firmly in both hands that it seemed as if he would not let it go on any account．This appearance of earnestness， together with the fact of his being such a little fellow，often attracted the notice of strangers；so that he was very frequently beckoned forward，and relieved of a great part of his stock， without himself  knowing why this preference was shown him． A couple of miles away， in the mountains， lived his grandfather， who carved the pretty little houses；and in the old man's room stood a wooden cupboard filled with things of that kind—carved toys in abundance， nutcrackers， knives and forks，boxes adorned with carved leaves and with jumping chamois，all kinds of things that delight children's eyes；but the boy， Rudy was his name，looked with greater  longing at an old rifle that hung from the beam under the ceiling，for his grandfather had promised him that it should be his one day， when he should have grown tall and strong enough to manage it properly．

Young as the boy was， he had to keep the goats ； and if ability to climb with his flock makes a good goat－herd，then Rudy was certainly an efficient one， for he even climbed a little higher than the goats could mount，and loved to take the birds’ nests from the high trees．A bold and courageous child he was， but he was never seen to smile， save when he stood by the foaming water-fall or heard an avalanche crashing down the mountain－side． He never played with the other children，and only  came in contact with them when his grandfather sent him down the mountain to deal in carved toys；and this was a business Rudy did not exactly like． He preferred clambering about alone among the mountains，or sitting beside his grandfather and hearing the old man tell stories of the old  times， or of the people in the neighbouring town of Meiringen，his birthplace．The old man said that the people who dwelt in that place had not been there from the beginning：they had come into the land from the far north， where their ancestors dwelt， who were called Swedes．And Rudy was very proud of knowing this．But he had others who taught him something，and these others were companions of his belonging to the animal creation． There was a great dog ，whose name was Ajola，and who had belonged to Rudy's father；and a Tom Cat was there too； this Tom Cat had a special significance for Rudy，for it was Pussy who had taught him to climb．

“ Come with me out on the roof，” the Cat had said，quite distinctly and plainly，to Rudy；for，you see，children who cannot talk yet，can understand the language of fowls and ducks right well， and cats and dogs speak to them quite as plainly as Father and Mother can do；but that is only when the children are very little， and then，even Grandfather's stick will be－come a perfect horse to them，and can neigh，and，in their eyes，is furnished with head and legs and tail． With some children this period ends later than with others and of such we are accustomed to say that they are very backward， and that they have remained children a long time．People are in the habit of saying many strange things．

“Come out with me on to the roof，”was perhaps the first thing the Cat had said and that Rudy had understood．“What people say about falling down is all fancy：one does not fall down if one is not afraid．Just you come， and put one of your paws thus and the other thus． Feel your way with your fore－paws． You must have eyes in your head and nimble limbs；and if an empty space comes， jump over， and then hold tight as I do．”

And Rudy did so too； consequently he was often found seated on the top of the roof by the cat； and afterwards he sat with him in the tree－tops，and at last was even seen seated on the edge of the cliff， whither Puss did not go．

“Higher up ！”said Tree and Bush． “Don't you see  how we climb？ How high we reach，and how tight we cling， even to the narrowest， loftiest ridge of rock！”

And Rudy climbed to the very summit of the mountain，frequently reaching the top before the sun touched it，and there he drank his morning draught of fresh mountain air， the draught that the bountiful Creator above can pre－pare，and the recipe for making which， according to the reading of men， consists in mingling the fragrant aroma of the mountain herbs with the scent of the wild thyme and  mint of the valley．All that is heavy is absorbed by the brooding clouds， and then the wind drives them along，and rubs them against the tree－tops， and the spirit of fragrance is infused into the air to make it lighter and fresher， ever fresher．And this was Rudy's morning draught．

The sunbeams， the blessing－laden daughters of the sun， kissed his cheeks，and Giddiness， who stood lurking by，never ventured to approach him； but the swallows，who had no less than seven nests on his grandfather's roof，flew round about him and his goats， and sang，“We and ye！ We and ye！”They brought him a greeting from home， even from the two fowls， the only birds in the house， but with whom Rudy never became at all intimate．

Small as he was，he had been a traveller，and for such a little fellow he had made no mean journey．He had been born over in the Canton of Wallis， and had been carried across the high mountains to his present dwelling． Not long ago he had made a pilgrimage on foot to the “ Staubbach”or “Dust Fountain”， which flutters through the air like a silver tissue before the snow－covered dazzling white mountain called the “Jungfrau” or “Maiden”．He had also  been in the Grindelwald，at the great glacier；but that was a sad story．His mother had met her death there； and there， said Grandfather，little Rudy had lost his childlike  cheerfulness． When the boy was not a year old his mother had written concerning him that he laughed more than he cried， but from the time when he sat in the ice cleft，an－other spirit came upon him． His grandfather seldom talked of it， but the people through the whole mountain region knew the story．

Rudy's father had been a postilion．The great dog that lay in grandfather's room had always followed him in  his journeys over the Simplon down to the Lake of Geneva．In the valley of the Rhone， in the Canton of Wallis，lived some relatives of Rudy on the father's side．His uncle was a first-rate chamois hunter and a well－known guide．Rudy was only a year old when he lost his father，and the mother now longed to return with her child to her relatives in the Oberland of Berne．Her father lived a few miles from Grindelwald； he was a wood－carver， and earned enough to live on．Thus， in the month of June，carrying her child，and accompanied by two chamois hunters， she set out on her journey home， across the  Gemmi towards Grindelwald．They had already gone the greater part of the way，had crossed the high ridge as far as the snow－field，and already caught sight of the valley of home， with all the well－known wooden houses， and had only one great glacier to cross． The snow had fallen freshly， and concealed a cleft which did not indeed reach to the deep ground where the water gushed，but was still more than six feet deep．The young mother，with her child in her arms，stumbled，slipped over the edge， and vanished． No cry was heard， no sigh，but they could hear the crying of the little child． More than an hour elapsed before ropes and poles could be brought up from the nearest house for the purpose of giving help，and after much exertion what appeared to be two corpses were brought forth from the icy cleft．Every means was tried；and the child， but not the mother， was recalled to life；and thus the old grandfather had a daughter's son brought into his house，an orphan， the boy who had laughed more than he cried；but it seemed that a great change had taken place in him， and this change must have been wrought in the glacier cleft， in the cold wondrous ice world， in which，according to the Swiss peasants' belief， the souls of the wicked are shut up until the last day．

The glacier lies stretched out，a foaming body of water stiffened into ice， and as it were pressed together into green blocks，one huge lump piled upon another；from beneath it the rushing stream of melted ice and snow thunders down into the valley，and deep caverns and great  clefts extend below．It is a wondrous glass palace，and within dwells the Ice Maiden，the Glacier Queen．She，the death－dealing， the crushing one， is partly a child of air， partly the mighty ruler of the river； thus she is also able to raise herself to the summit of the snow mountain，where the bold climbers are obliged to hew steps in the ice before they can mount； she sails on the slender fir twig down the rushing stream， and springs from one block to another， with her long snow－white hair and her blue-green garment fluttering around her and glittering like the water in the deep Swiss lakes．

“To crush and to hold， mine is the power！”she says．“They have stolen a beautiful boy from me， a boy whom I have kissed， but not kissed to death． He is again among men： he keeps the goats on the mountains， and climbs upward， ever higher，far away from the others，but not from me．He is mine，and I will have him！”

And she bade Giddiness do her errand， for it was too hot for the Ice Maiden， in summer， in the green woods where the wild mint grows； and Giddiness raised herself and came down；and her sisters went with her，for she has many sisters，a whole troop of them；and the Ice Maiden chose the strongest of the many who hover without and within．These spirits sit on the staircase railing and upon the railing at the summit of the tower；they run like squirrels along the rocky ridge，they spring over railing and path，and tread the air as a swimmer treads the water，luring their victims forth，and hurling them down into the abyss．Giddiness and the Ice Maid－en both grasp at a man as a polypus grasps at everything that comes near it． And now Giddiness was to seize up－on Rudy．

“Yes， but to seize him，”said Giddiness，“is more than I can do．The cat， that wretched creature，has taught him her tricks．That child a particular power which thrusts me away；I am not able to seize him， this boy，when he hangs by a bough over the abyss．How gladly would I tickle the soles of his feet，or thrust him head over heels into the air！［But I am not able to do it．］”

We shall manage to do it，”said the Ice Maiden．“Thou or I—I shall do it—I！”

“No， no！” sounded a voice around her，like the echo of the church bells among the mountains；but it was a song； it was the melting chorus of other spirits of nature—of good affectionate spirits—the Daughters of the Sunshine．These hover every evening in a wreath about the summits of the mountains； there they spread forth their roseate wings，which become more and more fiery as the sun sinks， and gleam above the high mountains． The people call this the “Alpine glow”．And then，when the sun has set，they retire into the mountain summits， into the white snow， and slumber there until the sun rises again，when they appear once more．They are especially fond of flowers，butterflies， and human beings；and among these latter they had chosen Rudy as an especial favourite．

“You shall not catch him—you shall not have him，”they said．

“I have caught them larger and stronger than he，”said the Ice Maiden．

Then the Daughters of the Sun sang a song of the wanderer whose mantle the storm carried away．

“The wind took the covering，but not the man．Ye can seize him， but not hold him， ye children of strength． He is stronger， he is more spiritual than even we are．He will mount higher than the sun，our parent． He possesses the magic word that binds wind and water，so that they must serve him and obey him． You will but loosen the heavy oppressive weight that holds him down， and he will rise all the higher．”

Gloriously swelled the chorus that sounded like the ringing of the church bells．

And every morning the sunbeams pierced through the one little window into the grandfather's house， and shone upon the quiet child． The Daughters of the Sun－beams kissed the boy； they wanted to thaw and remove the icy kisses which the royal maiden of the glaciers had given him when he lay in the lap of his dead mother in the deep ice cleft，from whence he had been saved as if  by a miracle．

 

Ⅱ THE JOURNEY TO THE NEW HOME

 

Rudy was now eight years old．His uncle，who dwelt beyond the mountains in the Rhone valley， wished that the boy should come to him to learn something and  get on in the world； the grandfather saw the justice of this，and let the lad go．

Accordingly Rudy said good－bye． There were others besides his grandfather to whom he had to say farewell； and foremost came Ajola， the old dog．

“Your father was the postilion and I was the post dog，”said Ajola；“we went to and fro together；and I know some dogs from beyond the mountains， and some people too．I was never much of a talker； but now that we most likely shall not be able to talk much longer together，I will tell you a little more than usual．I will tell you a story that I have kept to myself and ruminated on for a long while． I don't understand it，and you won't understand it， but that does not signify： this much at least I have made out， that things are not quite equally divided in the world， either for dogs or for men．Not all are destined to sit on a lady's lap and to drink milk： I've not been accustomed to it， but I've seen one of those little lap dogs，driving in the coach， and taking up a passenger's place in it； the lady，who was its mistress， or whose master it was， had a little bottle of milk with her， out of which she gave the dog a drink；and she offered him sweetmeats， but he only sniffed at them， and would not even accept them， and then she ate them up herself．I was running along in the mud beside the carriage，as hungry as a dog can be，chewing my own thoughts，that this could not be quite right；but they say a good many things are going on that are not quite right．Should you like to sit in a lady's lap and ride in a coach？I should be glad if you did．But one can't man-age that for oneself． I never could manage it，either by barking or howling．

These were Ajola's words；and Rudy embraced him and kissed him heartily on his wet nose；then the lad took  the Cat in his arms， but Puss struggled，saying，

“You're too strong for me，and I don't like to use my claws against you！ Clamber away over the mountains，for I have taught you how to climb．Don't think that you can fall，and then you will be sure to maintain your hold．”

And so saying the Cat ran away，not wishing Rudy to see that the tears were in his eyes．

The Fowls were strutting about in the room．One of them had lost its tail．A traveller who wanted to be a sportsman had shot the Fowl's tail away， looking upon the bird as a bird of prey．

“Rudy wants to go across the mountains，” said one of the Fowls．

“He's always in a hurry，” said the other，“and I don't like saying good－bye．”

And with this they both tripped away．

To the Goats he also said farewell；and they bleated“Meek！ meek！” which made him feel very sorrowful．

Two brave guides from the neighbourhood，who wanted to go across the mountains to the other side of the Gemmi，took him with them，and he followed them on foot．It was a tough march for such a little fellow，but Rudy was a strong boy，and his courage never gave way．

The Swallows flew with them for a little distance．“We and ye！ We and ye！” sang they．The road led across the foaming Lutschine，which pours forth in many little streams from the black cleft of the Grindelwald glacier and fallen trunks of trees and blocks of stone serve for a bridge．When they had reached the forest opposite，they began to ascend the slope where the glacier had slipped away from the mountain，and now they strode across and around ice blocks over the glacier．Rudy sometimes had alternately to crawl and to walk for some distance：his eyes gleamed with delight，and he trod so firmly in his spiked climbing－shoes that it seemed as if he wished to leave a trace behind him at every footstep．The black earth which the mountain stream had strewn over the glacier gave the great mass a swarthy look，but the bluish－green glassy ice nevertheless peered  through．They had to make circuits round the numerous  little lakes which had formed among the great blocks of ice，and now and then they passed close to a great stone that lay tottering on the edge of a crack in the ice，and sometimes the stone would overbalance，and roll crashing  down， and a hollow echo sounded forth from the deep dark fissures in the glacier．

Thus they continued climbing，The glacier itself ex－tended upwards like a mighty river of piled－up ice masses，shut in by steep rocks．Rudy thought for a moment of the tale they had told him， how he and his mother had lain in one of these deep，cold－breathing fissures； but  soon all such thoughts vanished from him，and the tale seemed to him only like many others of the same kind  which he had heard．Now and then， when the men thought the way too toilsome for the little lad，they would reach him a hand； but he did not grow tired， and stood on the smooth ice as safely as a chamois．Now they stepped on the face of the rock，and strode on among the rugged stones； sometimes，again， they marched among the pine trees， and then over the pasture grounds，ever seeing new and changing landscapes． Around them rose snow－clad mountains， whose names the “Jungfrau”，the “M nch”，the“Eiger”，were known to every child，and consequently to Rudy too．Rudy had never yet been so high；he had never yet stepped on the outspread sea of snow：here it lay with its motionless snowy billows，from which the wind every now and then blew off a flake，as it  blows the foam from the waves of the sea． The glaciers stand here，so to speak hand in hand； each one is a glass palace for the Ice Maiden，whose might and whose desire it is to catch and to bury．The sun shone warm，the snow was dazzlingly white and seemed strewn with bluish sparkling diamonds．Numberless insects，especially butterflies and bees，lay dead upon the snow；they had ventured too high，or the wind had carried them up until they perished in the frosty air．Above the Wetterhorn hung， like a bundle of fine black wool， a threatening cloud；［it bowed down，teeming with the weight it bore，］ the weight of a whirlwind， irresistible when once it bursts forth．The impressions of this whole journey—the night  encampment in these lofty regions，the further walk，the deep rocky chasms，where the water has pierced through the blocks of stone by a labour，at the thought of whose duration the mind stands still—all this was indelibly impressed upon Rudy's recollection．

A deserted stone building beyond the snow sea offered them a shelter for the night．Here they found fuel and pine branches，and soon a fire was kindled， and the bed arranged for the night as comfortably as possible．Then the men seated themselves round the fire，smoked their pipes，and drank the warm refreshing drink they had prepared for themselves．Rudy received his share of the supper；and then the men began telling stories of the mysterious beings of the Alpine land：of the strange gigantic serpents that lay coiled in the deep lakes；of the marvellous company of spirits that had been known to carry sleeping men by night through the air to the wonderful floating city， Venice；of the wild shepherd who drove his black sheep across the mountain pastures， and how， though no man had seen him， the sound of the bell and the ghostly bleating of the flock had been heard by many．Rudy listened attentively， but without any feeling of fear，for he knew not what fear meant；and while he listened he seemed to hear the hollow，unearthly bleating and lowing；and it became more and more audible，so that presently the men heard it too， and stopped in their talk to listen， and told Rudy  he must not go to sleep．

It was a “F hn”， the mighty whirlwind that hurls itself from the mountains into the valley， cracking the trees in its strength as if they were feeble reeds， and  carrying the wooden houses from one bank of a river to  the other as we move the figures on a chessboard．

After the lapse of about an hour，they told Rudy it  was all over， and he might go to sleep；and tired out with his long march， he went to sleep as at the word of command．

Very early next morning they resumed their journey． This day the sun shone on new mountains for Rudy， on fresh glaciers and new fields of snow： they had entered  the Canton of Wallis， and had proceeded beyond the ridge which could be seen from the Grindelwald； but they were still far from the new home．Other chasms came in view， new valleys，forests， and mountain paths， and new houses also came into view， and other people． But what strange－looking people were these！ They were deformed，and had fat， sallow faces； and from their necks hung heavy，ugly lumps of flesh， like bags： they were crétins， dragging themselves languidly along，and looking at the strangers with stupid eyes； the women especially were hideous in appearance．Were the people in his new home like these？

 

Ⅲ UNCLE

 

Thank Heaven！The people in the house of Rudy's uncle，where the boy was now to live，looked like those he  had been accustomed to see； only one of them was a  crétin， a poor idiotic lad，one of those pitiable creatures  who wander in their loneliness from house to house in the Canton of Wallis， staying a couple of months with each  family．Poor Saperli happened to be at Rudy's uncle's when the boy arrived．

Uncle was still a stalwart huntsman，and， moreover， understood the craft of tub－making； his wife was a little lively woman with a face like a bird's． She had eyes like an eagle， and her neck was covered with a fluffy down．

Everything here was new to Rudy—costume，manners， and habits， and even the language； but to the latter the child's ear would soon adapt itself．There was an appearance of wealty here，compared with grandfather's dwelling．The room was larger， the walls were ornamented  with chamois horns， among which hung polished rifles，and over the door was a picture of the Madonna，with fresh Alpine roses and a lamp burning in front of it．

As already stated，uncle was one of the best chamois hunters in the whole country， and one of the most trusted guides． In this household Rudy was now to become the pet child． There was one pet here already in the person of an old blind and deaf hound， who no  longer went out hunting as he had been used to do；but his good qualities of former days had not been forgotten，and therefore he was looked upon as one of the family and carefully tended．Rudy stroked the dog， who，how－ever， was not willing to make acquaintance with a stranger； but Rudy did not long remain a stranger in that house．

“It is not bad living， here in the Canton of Wallis，”said Uncle；“and we have chamois here， who don't  die out so quickly as the steinbock；and it is much better here now than in former days．They may say what they like in honour of the old times， but ours are better，after all：the bag has been opened， and a fresh wind blows through our sequestered valley．Something better always comes up when the old is worn out， he continued．And when uncle was in a very communicative mood，he would tell of his youthful years，and of still earlier times， the strong times of his father， when Wallis was， as he expressed it， a closed bag， full of sick people and miserable crétins．“But the French soldiers came in， he said，“and they were the proper doctors， for they killed the disease at once， and they killed the people who had it too． They knew all about fighting，did the French， and they could fight in more than one way． Their girls could make conquests too，”and then uncle would laugh and nod to his wife， who was a Frenchwoman by birth．“The French hammered away at our stones in famous style！ They hammered the Simplon road through the rocks—such a road that I can now say to a child of three years，‘Go to Italy，only keep to the high road，’ and the child will arrive safely in Italy if it does not stray from the road．”

And then uncle would sing a French song， and cry “Hurrah for Napoleon Bonaparte！”

Here Rudy for the first time heard them tell of France and Lyons， the great town on the Rhone， where his uncle had been．

Not many years were to elapse before Rudy should become an expert chamois hunter； his uncle said he had the stuff for it in him， and accordingly taught him to handle a rifle，to take aim，and shoot；and in the hunting season he took the lad with him into the mountains and  let him drink the warm blood of the chamois，which cures  the huntsman of giddiness；he also taught him to judge of the various times when the avalanches would roll down the mountains， at noon or at evening，according as the  sunbeams had shone upon the place； he taught him to notice the way the chamois sprang，that Rudy might learn to come down firmly on his feet；and told him that where the  rocky cleft gave no support for the foot， a man must cling  by his elbows， hips， and legs， and that even the neck could be used as a support in case of need．The chamois were clever， he said——they posted sentinels； but the hunter should be more clever still——keep out of the line of scent，and lead them astray；and one day when Rudy was out hunting with uncle， the latter hung his coat and hat on the alpenstock， and the chamois took the coat for a man．

The rocky path was narrow；it was， properly speaking， not a path at all， but merely a narrow shelf beside the yawning abyss．The snow that lay here was half thawed， the stone crumbled beneath the tread，and there－fore uncle laid himself down and crept forward．Every fragment that crumbled away from the rock fell down，jumping and rolling from one ledge of rock to another un－til it was lost to sight in the darkness below About a hundred paces behind his uncle， stood Rudy， on a firm projecting point of rock； and from this station he saw a great vulture circling in the air and hovering over uncle，whom it evidently intended to hurl into the abyss with a blow of its wings， that it might make a prey of him．Uncle's whole attention was absorbed by the chamois，which was to be seen， with its young one， on the other side of the cleft．Rudy kept his eyes on the bird．He knew what  the vulture intended to do， and accordingly stood with  his rifle ready to fire； when suddenly the chamois leaped up：uncle fired，and the creature fell pierced by the deadly bullet； but the young one sprang away as if it had been accustomed all its life to flee from danger．Startled by the sound of the rifle， the great bird soared away in another direction，and uncle knew nothing of the danger in which he had stood until Rudy informed  him of it．

As they were returning homeward， in the best spirits，uncle whistling one of the songs of his youth，they suddenly heard a peculiar noise not far from them；they looked around，and there on the declivity of the mountain，the snowy covering suddenly rose，and began to heave up and down，like a piece of linen stretched on a field when the wind passes beneath it．The snow waves，which had been smooth and hard as marble slabs，now broke to pieces，and the roar of waters sounded like rumbling thunder．An avalanche was falling，not over Rudy and uncle， but near where they stood， not at all  far from them．

“Hold fast，Rudy！” cried uncle，“ hold fast with all your strength．

And Rudy clung to the trunk of the nearest tree．Uncle clambered up above him，and the avalanche rolled past，many feet from them； but the concussion of the air， the stormy wings of the avalanche， broke trees and shrubs all around as if they had been frail reeds， and scattered the fragments headlong down．Rudy lay crouched upon the earth， the trunk of the tree to which he clung was split through，and the crown hurled far away；and there among the broken branches lay uncle， with his head shattered： his hand was still warm，but his face could no longer be recognized．Rudy stood by him pale and trembling；it was the first fright of his life——the first time he felt a shudder run through him．

Late at night he brought the sorrowful news into his home， which was now a house of mourning．The wife could find no words，no tears for her grief；at last，when the corpse was brought home，her sorrow found utterance．The poor crétin crept into his bed，and was not  seen during the whole of the next day；but at last，to－wards evening，he stole up to Rudy．

“ Write a letter for me，”he said．“Saperli can't write，but Saperli can carry the letter to the post．”

“A letter from you？”asked Rudy．“And to whom？”

“To the Lord．”

“To whom do you say？”

And the simpleton， as they called the crétin，looked at Rudy with a moving glance， folded his hands，and said solemnly and slowly，

“To the Saviour！ Saperli will send Him a letter， and beg that Saperli may be dead， and not the man in the house here．

Rudy pressed his hand， and said，

“The letter would not arrive，and it cannot restore him to us．”

But it was very difficult to make poor Saperli believe that this was impossible．

“Now thou art the prop of this house，”said the widow；and Rudy became that．

 

Ⅳ BABETTE

 

Who is the best marksman in the Canton of Wallis？The chamois knew well enough，and said to each other，“Beware of Rudy．”Who is the handsomest marksman？“Why， Rudy，”said the girls； but they did not add，“Beware of Rudy． Nor did even the grave mothers pronounce such a warning， for Rudy nodded at them just as kindly as at the young maidens．How quick and merry he was！ His checks were browned，his teeth regular and white，and his eyes black and shining； he was a hand－some lad，and only twenty years old．The icy water could  not harm him when he swam；he could turn and twist in the water like a fish，and climb better than any man in the mountains；he could cling like a snail to the rocky  ledge，for he had good sinews and muscles of his own； and he showed that in his power of jumping，an art he had learned first from the Cat and afterwards from the goats．Rudy was the safest guide to whom any man could  trust himself，and might have amassed a fortune in that calling；his uncle had also taught him the craft of tub－making；but he did not take to that occupation，prefer－ring chamois hunting，which also brought in money． Rudy was what might be called a good match，if he did not look higher than his station． And he was such a dancer that the girls dreamed of him， and indeed more  than one of them carried the thought of him into her  waking hours．

“He kissed me once at the dance！” said the  schoolmaster's daughter Annette to her dearest girl-friend； but she should not have said that， even to her dearest friend．A secret of that kind is hard to keep—it is like sand in a sieve， sure to run out；and soon it was known that Rudy，honest lad though he was， kissed his partner in the dance； and yet he had not kissed the one whom he would have liked best of all to kiss．

“Yes，”said an old hunter，“he has kissed Annette． He has begun with A， and will kiss his way through the whole alphabet．”

A kiss at the dance was all that the busy tongues could say against him until now： he had certainly kissed Annette， but she was not the beloved one of his heart．

Down in the valley near Bex，among the great walnut trees， by a little brawling mountain stream，lived the rich miller．The dwelling－house was a great building， three stories high， with little towers，roofed with planks and covered with plates of metal that shone in the  sunlight and in the moonlight； the principal tower was surmounted by a weather－vane， a flashing arrow that had pierced an apple—an emblem of Tell's famous feat． The mill looked pleasant and comfortable， and could be easily drawn and described；but the miller's daughter could neither be drawn nor described—so，at least，Rudy would have said； and yet she was portrayed in his  heart， where her eyes gleamed so brightly that they had lighted up a fire．This had burst out quite suddenly，as other fires break forth； and the strangest thing of all was，that the miller's daughter，pretty Babette， had no idea of the conquest she had made，for she and Rudy had never  exchanged a word together．

The miller was rich，and this wealth of his made Babette very difficult to get at． But nothing is so high that it may not be reached if a man will but climb；and he will not fall， if he is not afraid of falling．That was a lesson Rudy had brought from his first home．

Now it happened that on one occasion Rudy had some business to do in Bex．It was quite a journey thither，for in those days the railway had not yet been completed．From the Rhone glacier，along the foot of the Simplon，away among many changing mountain heights， the proud valley of  Wallis extends，with its mighty river the Rhone，which of-ten overflows its banks and rushes across the fields and high roads，carrying destruction with it．Between the little towns of Sion and St． Maurice the valley makes a bend， like an elbow， and becomes so narrow below St．Maurice that it only affords room for the bed of the river and a narrow road． An old tower here stands as a sentinel at the boundary of the Canton of Wallis， which ends here． The tower looks across over the stone bridge at the toll－house on the opposite side． There commences the Canton of Waud，and at a little distance is the first town of that Canton， Bex．At every step the signs of fertility and plenty in－crease， and the traveller seems to be journeying through a garden of walnut trees and chestnuts； here and there cypresses appear，and blooming pomegranates；and the climate has the southern warmth of Italy．

Rudy duly arrived in Bex，and concluded his business there； then he took a turn in the town； but not even a miller's lad，much less Babette，did he see there．That was not as it should be．

Evening came on；the air was full of the fragrance of the wild thyme and of the blooming lime trees； a gleaming  bluish veil seemed to hang over the green mountains；far  around reigned a silence—not the silence of sleep or of death， but a stillness as if all nature held its breath，as if  it were waiting to have its picture photographed upon the  blue sky． Here and there among the trees on the green meadows stood long poles，supporting the telegraph wires that had been drawn through the quiet valley； against one of these leaned an object，so motionless that it might have  been taken for the trunk of a tree；but it was Rudy， who  stood as quiet and motionless as all nature around him． He did not sleep，nor was he dead by any means；but just as the records of great events sometimes fly along the telegraph—messages of vital importance to those whom they concern，while the wire gives no sign， by sound or movement，of what is passing over it—so there was passing through the mind of Rudy a thought which was to be the happiness of his whole life and his one absorbing idea from that moment．His eyes were fixed on one point—an a light that gleamed out among the trees from the chamber of the miller where Babette dwelt．So motionless did Rudy stand here，one might have thought he was taking aim at a chamois，a creature which sometimes stands as if carved  out of the rock， till suddenly， if a stone should roll  down，it springs away in a headlong career．And some－thing of this kind happened to Rudy—suddenly a thought rolled into his mind．

“Never falter！”he cried．“Pay a visit to the mill， say good evening to the miller and good evening to Babette．He does not fall who is not afraid of falling． Babette must see me ，sooner or later，if I am to be her husband．”

And Rudy laughed， for he was of good courage，and  he strode away towards the mill．He knew what he wanted； he wanted to have Babette．

The river，with its yellowish bed，foamed along，and the willows and lime trees hung over the hurrying waters；Rudy strode along the path．But， as the children's  song has it：

Nobody was at home to greet him，

Only the house cat came to meet him．

The house cat stood on the step and said “Miaou”， and arched her back； but Rudy paid no attention to this address．He knocked，but no one heard him，no one opened the door to him．“Miaou！”said the cat．If Rudy  had been still a child， he would have understood her language，and have known that the cat was saying，“There's nobody at home here！” but now he must fain go over to the mill to make inquiries，and there he heard the news that the miller had gone far away to Interlaken， and Babette with him：a great shooting match was to come off there； it would begin tomorrow， and last a full week， and people from all the German Cantons were to be present  at it．

Poor Rudy！ He might be said to have chosen an unlucky day for his visit to Bex，and now he might go home．He turned about accordingly， and marched over St．Maurice and Sion towards his own valley and the mountains of his home；but he was not discouraged．When the sun rose next morniny his good humour already stood high，for it had never set．

“Babette is at Interlaken，many days’ journey from here，” he said to himself．“It is a long way thither if a  man travels along the broad high road，but it is not so far if one takes the short cut across the mountains， and the chamois hunter's path is straight forward．I've been that  way already：yonder is my early home，where I lived as a  child in grandfather's house， and there's a shooting  match at Interlaken．I'll be there too，and be the beat shot；and I’11 be with Babette too， when once I have made her acquaintance．”

With a light knapsack containing his Sunday clothes on his back，and his gun and hunting bag across his shoulder，Rudy mounted the hill by the short cut，which was， nevertheless，tolerably long；but the shooting match  had only begun that day， and was to last a week or more；and they had told him that the miller and Babette would pass the whole time with their friends at Interlaken．Rudy marched across the Gemmi，intending to descend at Grindelwald．

Fresh and merry， he walked on in the strengthening light mountain air．The valley sank deeper and deeper behind him， and his horizon became more and more ex－tended；here a snowy peak appeared，and there another， and presently the whole gleaming white chain of the Alps could be seen．Rudy knew every peak， and he made straight towards the Schreckhorn，that raised its white－ powdered，stony finger up into the blue air．

At last he had crossed the ridge．The grassy pastures sloped down towards the valley of his old home．The  air was light and his spirits were light． Mountain and valley bloomed fair with verdure and with flowers，and his  heart was filled with the feeling of youth，that reeks not of coming age or of death．To live， to conquer，to enjoy， free as a bird！—and light as a bird he felt．And the  swallows flew past him，and sang， as they had sang in his childhood，“We and ye！we and ye！” and all seemed joy  and rapid motion．

Below lay the summer－green meadow，studded with  brown wooden houses，with the Lütschine rushing and humming among them．He saw the glacier with the grass－green borders and the clouded snow； he looked into the deep crevasses， and beheld the upper and the lower  glacier．The church bells sounded across to him，as if they were ringing to welcome him into the valley of home；and his heart beat stronger，and swelled so，that for a  moment Babette entirely disappeared，so large did his  heart become， and so full of recollections．

He went along again，up on the mountain where he had stood as a child with other little children， offering  carved houses for sale．There among the pine trees stood  the house of his grandfather；but strangers inhabited it now．Children came running along the road towards him to sell their wares，and one of them offered him an Alpine rose， which Rudy looked upon as a good omen， and thought of Babette． Soon he had crossed the bridge where the two branches of the Lütschine join； the woods became thicker here and the walnut trees gave a friendly shade． Now he saw the waving flags，the flags with the white cross in a red field，the national emblem of the Switzer  and the Dane， and Interlaken lay before him．

This was certainly a town without equal，according to Rudy's estimate．It was a little Swiss town in its Sun－day dress．It did not look like other places，a heavy mass of stone houses， dismal and pretentious； no， here the wooden houses looked as if they had run down into the  valley trom the hills， and placed themselves in a row beside the clear river that ran so gaily by；they were a little out of order，but nevertheless they formed a kind of street；and the prettiest of all the streets was one that had grown up since Rudy had been here in his boyish days；and it looked to him as if it had been built of all the natty little houses his grandfather had carved， and which used to be kept in the cupboard of the old house．A whole row of such houses seemed to have grown up here like strong chestnut trees； each of them was called an hotel， and had carved work on the windows and doors， and a projecting roof，prettily and tastefully built，and in front of each was a garden separating it from the broad macadamized road．The houses only stood on one side of the road，so that they did not hide the fresh green pastures，in which the cows were walking about with bells round their necks like those which sound upon the lofty Alps．The pasture was surrounded by high mountains， which seemed to have stepped aside in the middle，so that the sparkling snow-covered mountain， the “Jungfrau”， the most beautiful of all the Swiss peaks， could be plainly seen．

What a number of richly dressed ladies and gentlemen from foreign lands！ what a crowd of people from the various  Cantons！ Every marksman wore his number displayed in a wreath round his hat．There was music and singing，barrel organs and trumpets，bustle and noise．Houses and bridges were adorned with verses and emblems；flags and banners were waving；the rifles cracked merrily now and again；and in Rudy's ears the sound of the shots was the sweetest music；and in the bustle and tumult he had quite forgotten Babette，for whose sake he had come．

And now the marksmen went crowding to shoot at the target．Rudy soon took up his station among them，and proved to be the most skillful and the most fortunate of all—each time his bullet struck the black spot in the centre of the target．

“Who may that stranger，that young marksman be？”asked many of the bystanders．“He speaks the French they talk in the Canton of Wallis．”“He can also make himself well understood in our German，”said others．

“They say he lived as a child in the neighbourhood of Grindelwald，”observed one of the marksmen．

And he was full of life， this stranger youth．His eyes gleamed， and his glance and his arm were sure ，and that is why he hit the mark so well． Fortune gives courage，but Rudy had courage enough of his own．He had soon assembled a circle of friends round him，who  paid him honour，and showed respect for him；and Babette was almost forgotten for the moment．Then suddenly a heavy hand clapped him on the shoulder，and a deep voice addressed him in the French tongue：

“You're from the Canton of Wallis？”

Rudy turned round，and saw a red good-humoured face，belonging to a portly person．The speaker was the rich miller of Bex； and his broad body almost eclipsed the pretty delicate Babette， who，however，soon peeped forth from behind him with her bright dark eyes． It pleased the rich miller that a marksman from his Canton should have shot best，and have won respect from all present． Well， Rudy was certainly a fortunate youth， for the person for whose sake he had come，but whom he had forgotten after his arrival，now came to seek him out．

When fellow countrymen meet at a long distance from home， they are certain to converse and to make acquaintance with one another．By virtue of his good shooting，Rudy had become the first at the marksmen's meeting，just as the miller was the first at home in Bex on the  strength of his money and his good mill；and so the two men shook hands， a thing they had never done before；Babette also held out her hand frankly to Rudy，who pressed it so warmly and gave her such an earnest look that she blushed crimson to the roots of her hair．

The miller talked of the long distance they had come，and of the many huge towns they had seen；according to his idea，they had made quite a long journey of it， having travelled by railway，steamboat，and diligence．

“I came the shortest way，” observed Rudy．“I walked across the mountains．No road is so high but a man may get over it．

“And break his neck，”quoth the miller．“You look just the fellow to break your neck one of these days，so bold as you are，too．”

“Oh， a man does not fall unless he is afraid of falling，”observed Rudy．

The relatives of the miller in Interlaken， at whose house he and Babette were staying， invited Rudy to visit them，since he belonged to the same Canton as the rich miller．That was a good offer for Rudy．Fortune was favourable to him，as she always is to anyone who seeks to win by his own energy， and remembers that “Providence provides us with nuts， but leaves us to crack them”．

Rudy sat among the miller's relatives like one of the family．A glass was emptied to the health of the best marksman， and Babette clinked her glass with the rest，and Rudy returned thanks for the toast．

Towards evening they all took a walk on the pretty road by the prosperous hotels under the old walnut trees，and so many people were there， and there was so much pushing， that Rudy was obliged to offer his arm to Babette．He declared he was very glad to have met people from  Waud，for Waud and Wallis were good neighbour Cantons． He expressed his joy so heartily， that Babette could not help giving him a grateful pressure of the hand．They Walked on together as if they had been old friends，and she talked and chattered away； and Rudy thought how charmingly she pointed out the ridiculous and absurd points in the costumes and manners of the foreign ladies；not that she did it to make game of them，for they might be very good honourable people， as Babette well knew，for was not her own godmother one of these grand English ladies？ Eighteen years ago，when Babette was christened， this lady had been residing in Bex， and had given Babette the costly brooch the girl now wore on her neck．Twice the lady had written，and this year Babette had expected to meet her and her two daughters at Interlaken．“The daughters were old maids，nearly thirty years old，” added Babette； but then she herself was only eighteen．

The sweet little mouth never rested for a moment；and everything that Babette said， sounded in Rudy's ears like a matter of the utmost importance；and he， on his part， told  all he had to tell—how often he had been at Bex， how well he knew the mill， and how often he had seen Babette， though she had probably never noticed him； and how， when he had lately called at the mill，full of thoughts that he could not express， she and her father had been absent—had gone faraway，but not so far that a man might not climb over the wall that made the way so long．

He said all that and a great deal more． He said how fond he was of her， and that he had come hither on her account，and not for the sake of the marksmens's meeting．

Babette was quite still while he said all this； it almost seemed to her as if he entrusted her with too great a secret．

And as they wandered on， the sum sank down behind the high rocky wall． The“Jungfrau” stood there in full beauty and splendour，surrounded by the green wreath og the forest－clad hills．Everyone stood still to enjoy the  glorious sight， and Rudy and Babette rejoiced in it too．

“It is nowhere more beautiful than here！” said Babette．

“Nowhere！” cried Rudy， and he looked at Babette．“Tomorrow I must return home，”he said，after a silence of a few moments．

“Come and see us at Bex，” whisper Babette；“ it  will please my father．”

 

Ⅴ ON THE WAY HOME

 

Oh， what a load Rudy had to carry when he went homeward across the mountains on the following day！ Yes， he had three silver goblets， two handsome rifles， and a silver coffee-pot．The coffee－pot would be useful when he set up housekeeping．But that was not all he had to carry：he bore something mightier and weightier， or rather it bore him，carrying him homewards across the high mountains．The weather was rough，grey，rainy，and heavy；the clouds floated down upon the mountain heights  like funereal crape，concealing the sparkling summits． From the woodland valleys the last strokes of the are sounded upward， and down the declivities of the mountains rolled trunks of trees， which looked like thin sticks  from above， but were in reality thick enough to serve as masts for the largest ships．The Lütschine foamed along  with its monotonous song， the wind whistled， the clouds sailed onward．Then suddenly a young girl appeared， walking beside Rudy：he had not noticed her till now that  she was quite close to him． She wanted，like himself，to cross the mountain．The maiden's eyes had a peculiar  power：you were obliged to look at them， and they were strange to behold， clear as glass， and deep， unfathomable．

“Have you a sweetheart？”asked Rudy， for his thoughts all ran on that subject．

“I have none，”replied the girl， with a laugh；but she did not seem to be speaking a true word．“Don't let us make a circuit，”she said．“I've must keep more to the left， then the way will be shorter．”

“Yes， and we shall fall into an ice cleft，” said Rudy．“You want to be a guide，and you don't know the  way better than that！”

“I know the way well，”the girl replied，“and my thoughts are not wandering．Yours are down in the valley， but up here one ought to think of the Ice Maiden：she does not love the human race—so people say．”

“I'm not afraid of her，”cried Rudy．“She was obliged to give me up when I was still a child， and I shall not give myself up to her now that I am older．”

And the darkness increased，the rain fell， and the snow came， and dazzled and blinded．

“Reach me your hand，”said the girl to Rudy；“ I will help you to climb．”

And he felt the touch of her finger icy cold upon him．

“You help me！” cried Rudy．“I don't want a woman's help to show me how to climb．”

And he went on faster， away from her． The driving snow closed round him like a mantle， the wind whistled，and behind him he heard the girl laughing and singing in a strange way． He felt sure she was a phantom in the service of the Ice Maiden． Rudy had heard tell of such apparitions when he passed the night on the mountains in his boyish days，during his journey from his grandfather's house．

The snow－fall abated， and the cloud was now below him．He looked back， but nobody was to be seen；but he could hear laughter and whooping that did not seem to proceed from a human voice．

When Rudy at last reached the highest mountain plateau，whence the path led downward into the Rhone valley，he saw in the direction of Chamonix，in a strip of pure blue sky，two bright stars which glittered and twinkled；and he thought of Babette， of himself，and of his  good fortune，and the thought made him quite warm．

 

Ⅵ THE VISIT TO THE MILL

 

“What magnificent things you have brought home！” exclaimed the old aunt；and her strange eagle's eyes flashed，and her thin neck waved to and fro faster than  ever in strange contortions．“You have luck，Rudy！I must kiss you，my darling boy！”

And Rudy allowed himself to be kissed， but expression in his face which told that he submitted to it as a necessary evil， a little domestic infliction．

“How handsome you are， Rudy！”said the old woman．

“Don't put nonsense into my head，”replied Rudy，with a laugh；but still he was pleased to hear her say it．

“I repeat it，” she cried．“Good luck attends upon you！”

“Perhaps you are right，” he observed；and he thought of Babette．

Never had he felt such a longing to go down into the deep valley．

“They must have returned，” he said to himself．“ It  is two days beyond the time when they were to have been  back． I must go to Bex．”

Accordingly Rudy journeyed to Bex，and the people of the mill were at home． He was well received， and the people at Interlaken had sent a kind message of remembrance to him．Babette did not say much： she had grown very silent， but her eyes spoke， and that was quite  enough for Rudy． It seemed as f the miller， who was accustomed to lead the conversation，and who always expected his hearers to laugh at his ideas and jokes because he was the rich miller—it seemed as if he would never tire of hearing Rudy's hunting adventures；and Rudy spoke of the dangers and difficulties the chamois hunters have to encounter on the high mountains， how they have to cling， how they have to clamber over the frail ledges of snow， that are， as it were， glued to the mountain－side by frost and cold， and to clamber across the bridges of snow that stretch across rocky chasms． And the eyes of the brave Rudy flashed while he told of the hunter's life， of the cunning of the chamois and its perilous leaps， of the mighty whirl－wind and the rushing avalanches． He noticed clearly enough，that with every fresh narrative he enlisted the miller more and more in his favour；and the old man felt especially interested in what the young hunter told about the vultures and the royal eagles．

Not far off， in the Canton of Wallis，there was an eagle's nest built very cleverly under a steep overhanging rock， and in the nest was an eaglet which could not be captured．An Englishman had a few days before offered Rudy a handful of gold pieces if he could procure him the eaglet alive．

“But there is a limit in all things，”said Rudy：“that eaglet is not to be taken； it would be folly to make the attempt．”

And the wine flowed and conversation flowed； but the evening appeared far too short for Rudy，although it was past midnight when he set out to go home after his first visit to the mill．

The lights still gleamed for a short time through the windows of the mill among the green trees， and the Parlour Cat came forth from the open loophole in the roof，and met the Kitchen Cat walking along the rain－spout．

“Do you know the news in the mill？” asked the Parlour Cat．“There's a silent engagement going on in the house．Father knows nothing about it．Rudy and Babette were treading on each other's paws under the table all  the evening． They trod upon me twice， but I would not mew for fear of exciting attention．”

“I should have mewed，” said the kitchen Cat．

“What will pass in the kitchen would never do for the parlour，”retorted the other Cat；“but I'm curious to know what the miller will think about it when he hears of the affair．”

Yes，indeed，what would the miller say？That is what Rudy would have liked to know too； and， more－over， he could not bear to remain long in suspense with－out knowing it． Accordingly，a few days afterwards，when the omnibus rattled across the Rhone bridge between Wallis and Waud，Rudy sat in the vehicle， in good spirits as usual，and already basking in the sunny prospect of the consent he hoped to gain that very evening．

And when the evening came，and the omnibus was making its way back，Rudy once more sat in it as a passenger；but in the mill the Parlour Cat had some important news to tell．

“Do you know it， you there out of the kitchen？The miller has been told all about it．There was a fine end to it all．Rudy came here towards evening， and he and Babette had much to whisper and to tell each other， standing in the passage outside the miller's room．I was lying at their feet， but they had neither eyes nor thoughts for me．‘I shall go to your father without more ado，'said Rudy；‘that's the honest way to do it．‘ Shall I go with you？’ asked Babette；‘ it will give you courage．’‘ I've courage enough，'replied Rudy；‘ but if you are present he must be kind， whether he likes it or not． And they went in together． Rudy trod upon my tail most horribly．He's a very awkward fellow，this  Rudy．I called out，but neither he nor Babette had ears  to hear me．They opened the door，and both went in，and I went on before them；but I sprang up on the back of a chair， for I could not know where Rudy would kick．But it was the miller who kicked this time， and it was a good kick too！ out at the door and up to the mountain among the chamois；and he may take aim at them now， may Rudy， and not at our Babette．”

“But what did they say？”asked the Kitchen Cat．

“What did they say？ Why， they said everything that  people are accustomed to say when they come a-wooing．‘I  love her and she loves me， and if there's milk enough in the pail for one， there's enough for two．’‘But she's  perched too high for you，'said the miller．‘She's perched on grist，on golden grist， as you very well know，and you can't reach up to her．’‘Nothing is so high that a man can't reach it， if he has the will，'said Rudy， for he is a  bold fellow．‘But you can't reach the eaglet，you said so yourself the other day， and Babette is higher than that．’‘I shall take both of them，’exclaimed Rudy．‘I'll give you Babet