BABETTE.
Who is the best shot in the canton of Vallais? Even the chamois knew.
"Take care of Rudy's shooting!" they said. "Who is the handsomest
huntsman?" "Rudy is!" said the maidens, but they did not say, "Take
care of Rudy's shooting!" nor did their serious mothers say so either;
he nodded to them as lightly as he did to a young girl; for he was
brave and joyous, his cheeks were brown, his teeth sound and white,
and his eyes coal-black and sparkling; he was a handsome fellow, and
not more than twenty. The ice-cold water did not hurt him in swimming;
he swam like a fish, could climb better than any other man, could hold
fast like a snail to the walls of rock, for his muscles and sinews
were good; and you saw when he leapt that he had taken lessons from
the cat and from the chamois. Rudy was the surest guide to depend
on, and might have made his fortune in that way; his uncle had also
taught him coopering, but he gave little thought to that, for his
pleasure and delight was in shooting the chamois; and in this way he
earned money. Rudy was a good match, as they say, if he did not look
above his own position. And he was a dancer among dancers, so that the
maidens dreamt of him, and some of them even thought of him when
waking.
[Illustration: "Rudy gave me a kiss at the dance!" said Annette to her
dearest friend.]
"He gave me a kiss at the dance!" said Annette, the schoolmaster's
daughter, to her dearest friend; but she ought not to have said that
even to her dearest friend. Such a secret is not easy to keep: it is
like sand in a bag full of holes, it will run out; and they all soon
knew that Rudy had given her a kiss at the dance, though he had not
kissed the one that he wanted to kiss.
"Just watch him!" said an old huntsman; "he has kissed Annette; he has
begun with A and he will kiss all through the alphabet."
A kiss at the dance was all that the gossips could say against Rudy so
far; but although he had kissed Annette, she was not the flower of his
heart.
Down at Bex, among the great walnut-trees, close to a little rapid
mountain stream, there lived a rich miller; his dwelling-house was a
big building of three floors, with small turrets, roofed with shingle
and ornamented with metal plates which shone in the rays of the sun or
the moon; the biggest turret had for a weather-cock a glittering arrow
which had transfixed an apple, in memory of Tell's marksmanship. The
mill appeared fine and prosperous, and one could both sketch and
describe it, but one could not sketch or describe the miller's
daughter; at least, Rudy says one could not, and yet he had her image
in his heart. Her eyes had so beamed upon him that they had quite
kindled a flame; this had come quite suddenly, as other fires come,
and the strangest thing was, that the miller's daughter, the charming
Babette, had no thought of it, as she and Rudy had never spoken to
each other.
The miller was rich, and his riches made Babette hard to approach;
"But nothing is so high," said Rudy to himself, "that a man can't get
up to it; a man must climb, and he need not fall, nor lose faith in
himself." This lesson he had learnt at home.
It happened one day that Rudy had business at Bex, and it was quite a
journey, for the railway did not then go there. From the Rhone
glacier, at the foot of the Simplon, between many and various
mountain-heights, stretches the broad valley of the Rhone, whose flood
often overflows its banks, overwhelming everything. Between the towns
of Sion and St. Maurice the valley bends in the shape of an elbow, and
below St. Maurice it is so narrow that it hardly allows room for more
than the river itself and a narrow road. An old tower stands here on
the mountain side, as a sentry to mark the boundary of the canton of
Vallais, opposite the stone bridge by the toll-house; and here begins
the canton Vaud, not far from the town of Bex. As you advance you
notice the increase of fertility, you seem to have come into a garden
of chestnuts and walnut-trees; here and there are cypresses and
pomegranates in flower; there is a southern warmth, as if you had come
into Italy.
Rudy arrived at Bex, finished his business, and looked about him; but
never a lad from the mill, not to mention Babette, could he see. This
was not what he wished.
It was now towards evening; the air was full of the scent of the wild
thyme and of the flowers of the limes; a shining veil seemed to hang
over the wooded mountains, with a stillness, not of sleep, nor of
death, but rather as if nature were holding its breath, in order to
have its likeness photographed on the blue vault of heaven. Here and
there between the trees, and across the green fields stood poles, to
support the telegraph wires already carried through that tranquil
valley; by one of these leaned an object, so still that it might have
been mistaken for a tree-stump, but it was Rudy, who was as still and
quiet as everything about him; he was not asleep, and he certainly was
not dead. But thoughts were rushing through his brain, thoughts
mighty and overwhelming, which were to mold his future.
His eyes were directed to one point amidst the leaves, one light in
the miller's parlor where Babette lived. So still was Rudy standing,
that you might believe he was taking aim at a chamois, for the chamois
will sometimes stand for an instant as if a part of the rock, and then
suddenly, startled by the rolling of a stone, will spring away; and so
it was with Rudy--a sudden thought startled him.
"Never give up!" he cried. "Call at the mill! Good evening to the
miller, good day to Babette. A man doesn't fall when he doesn't think
about it; Babette must see me at some time if I am ever to be her
husband."
Rudy laughed, for he was of good cheer, and he went to the mill; he
knew well enough what he wished for--he wished for Babette.
The river, with its yellowish water, rushed along, and the willows and
limes overhung its banks; Rudy went up the path, and as it says in the
old children's song:
"to the miller's house,
But found no one at home
Except little Puss!"
The parlor cat stood on the steps, put up his back, and said "Miou!"
but Rudy had no thought for that speech; he knocked at the door; no
one heard, no one opened it. "Miou!" said the cat. If Rudy had been
little, he would have understood animals' language, and known that the
cat said: "There's no one at home!" So he went over to the mill to
ask, and there he got the information. The master had gone on a
journey, as far as the town of Interlaken "_inter lacūs_, between
the lakes," as the schoolmaster, Annette's father, had explained it in
a lesson. The miller was far away, and Babette with him; there was a
grand shooting competition--it began to-morrow, and went on for eight
days. Switzers from all the German cantons would be there.
Unlucky Rudy, you might say, this was not a fortunate time to come to
Bex; so he turned and marched above St. Maurice and Sion to his own
valley and his own mountains; but he was not disheartened. The sun
rose next morning, but his spirits were already high, for they had
never set.
[Illustration: The cat stood on the steps, put up his back and said,
"Miou!" as Rudy knocked at the door.]
"Babette is at Interlaken, many days' journey from hence," he said to
himself. "It is a long way there if one goes by the high road, but it
is not so far if you strike across the mountains, as I have often done
in chamois-hunting. There is my old home, where I lived when little
with my grandfather; and the shooting-match is at Interlaken! I will
be the best of them; and I will be with Babette, when I have made
acquaintance with her."
With his light knapsack, containing his Sunday suit and his gun and
game-bag, Rudy went up the mountain by the short way, which was,
however, pretty long; but the shooting-match only began that day and
was to last over a week, and all that time, he was told, the miller
and Babette would spend with their relations at Interlaken. So Rudy
crossed the Gemmi, meaning to come down near Grindelwald.
Healthy and joyful, he stepped along, up in the fresh, the light, the
invigorating mountain air. The valley sank deeper, the horizon opened
wider; here was a snow-peak, and there another, and soon he could see
the whole shining range of the Alps. Rudy knew every snow-mountain,
and he made straight for the Schreckhorn, which raised its
white-sprinkled, stony fingers high into the blue air.
At length he crossed the highest ridge. The pastures stretched down
towards his own valley; the air was light, and he felt merry; mountain
and valley smiled with abundance of flowers and verdure; his heart was
full of thoughts of youth: one should never become old, one need never
die; to live, to conquer, to be happy! free as a bird--and he felt
like a bird. And the swallows flew by him, and sang, as they used to
do in his childhood: "We and you, and you and we!" All was soaring and
rejoicing.
Below lay the velvety green meadow, sprinkled with brown châlets, and
the Lütschine humming and rushing. He saw the glacier, with its
bottle-green edges covered with earth-soiled snow; he saw the deep
fissures, and the upper and the lower glacier. The sound of the
church bells came to him, as if they were ringing to welcome him home;
his heart beat more strongly, and swelled so that Babette was
forgotten for a moment, so large was his heart and so full of
memories!
He again went along the way where he had stood as a little urchin with
the other children, and sold the carved châlets. He saw among the
pines his grandfather's house, but strangers now lived in it. Children
came along the path to sell things, and one of them offered him an
Alpine rose; Rudy took it as a good omen, and he thought of Babette.
He soon crossed the bridge where the two Lütschine unite; the trees
here grew thicker, and the walnuts gave a refreshing shade. He now saw
the flag waving, the white cross on a red background, the flag of the
Switzers and the Danes; and now he had reached Interlaken.
This, Rudy thought, was certainly a splendid town. It was a Swiss town
in Sunday dress; not like other places, crowded with heavy stone
houses, ponderous, strange, and stately. No! here it seemed as if the
châlets had come down from the mountains into the green valley, close
by the clear, rapid stream, and had arranged themselves in a row, a
little in and out, to make a street. And the prettiest of all the
streets--yes, that it certainly was!--had sprung up since Rudy was
here, when he was little. It seemed to have been built of all the
charming châlets which his grandfather had carved and stored in the
cabinet at home, and they had grown up here by some power like the
old, oldest chestnut-trees. Each house was a hotel, with carved
woodwork on the windows and doors, and a projecting roof, and was
elegantly built; and in front of the house was a flower-garden,
between it and the broad, macadamized road; all the houses stood on
one side of the road, so as not to hide the fresh green meadows, where
the cows wandered about with bells like those in the high Alpine
pastures. It seemed to be in the midst of lofty mountains, which had
drawn apart in one direction to allow the snow-clad peak of the
Jungfrau to be seen, most lovely of all the Swiss mountains.
There were a great many well-dressed visitors from foreign countries
as well as many Switzers from the different cantons. Each competitor
had his number in a garland on his hat. Singing and playing on all
kinds of instruments were to be heard everywhere, mingled with cries
and shouts. Mottoes were put up on the houses and bridges, flags and
pennons floated in the breeze; the crack of the rifles was frequently
heard, and Rudy thought this the sweetest sound of all; indeed, in the
excitement of the moment he quite forgot Babette, although he had come
on purpose to meet her.
The marksmen now went in the direction of the target. Rudy went with
them, and was the best shot of them all--he hit the bull's-eye every
time.
"Who is that young stranger who shoots so well?" the onlookers asked
each other. "He talks French as they do in canton Vallais. But he also
speaks German very well," others replied.
"They say he was brought up near Grindelwald," one of the competitors
remarked.
There was life in the fellow, his eyes shone, his arm was steady, and
for that reason he never failed in hitting the mark. Courage comes
with success, but Rudy had a store of natural courage. Admiring
friends soon gathered around him, and complimented him on his success;
he altogether forgot Babette. Then some one laid his hand on his
shoulder, and spoke to him in French.
"You belong to the canton of Vallais?"
Rudy turned, and saw a burly individual with a rosy, good-humored
face. It was the wealthy miller from Bex; his stout form almost
concealed the pretty, slim Babette, but she looked at Rudy with her
sparkling, dark eyes. The miller was glad that a rifleman from his own
canton should prove the best shot, and should have won universal
applause. Rudy was certainly in luck, for although he had forgotten
his principal object in coming, she had now come forward to him.
When neighbors meet one another at a distance from home they generally
get to talking, and make each other's acquaintance. Because Rudy was
a good shot he had become a leader at the rifle competition, just as
much as the miller was at Bex, because of his wealth and his good
business; so they clasped each other by the hand for the first time;
Babette also offered her hand to Rudy who squeezed it, and looked at
her so earnestly that she quite blushed.
The miller spoke of their long journey, and how many large towns they
had come through; and it certainly seemed to have been a very long
journey, as they had traveled by the steamboat, and also by rail and
by post-chaise.
"I came the nearest way," said Rudy. "I walked over the mountains; no
road is too high for a man to come over it."
"And break your neck," said the miller. "You look just the man to
break his neck one day, you look so headstrong."
"A man doesn't fall if he doesn't think about it," replied Rudy.
The miller's relatives in Interlaken, with whom he and Babette were
staying, asked Rudy to visit them, as he was from the same canton.
This was a chance for Rudy; fortune favored him, as she always does
favor those who endeavor to succeed by their own energy, and remember
that "Providence gives us nuts, but we have to crack them for
ourselves."
Rudy was welcomed by the miller's relatives as if he had belonged to
the family, and they drank to the health of the best shot, and Babette
clinked her glass with the others, and Rudy thanked them for the
toast.
In the evening they went for a stroll on the road by the big hotels
beneath the old walnut-trees, and there was such a throng, and the
people pushed so that Rudy was able to offer his arm to Babette. He
said he was glad to have met the people from Vaud. The cantons of Vaud
and Vallais were very good neighbors. He seemed so thoroughly pleased
that Babette could not resist the inclination to press his hand. They
walked together just like old acquaintances, and she was very amusing.
Rudy was delighted with her naive remarks on the peculiarities in the
dress and behavior of the foreign ladies; and yet she did not wish to
make fun of them, for she knew that many of them were amiable and
worthy people--indeed, her own godmother was an English lady. She had
been living in Bex eighteen years ago, when Babette was christened,
and she had given her the valuable brooch she was now wearing. Her
godmother had twice written to her, and Babette was now hoping to see
her and her daughters in Interlaken.
"They were two old maids, almost thirty!" said Babette; but you must
remember that she was only eighteen.
Her little tongue was never still for an instant, and all that Babette
had to say was intensely interesting to Rudy; and he told her all
about himself--that he had frequently been to Bex, and knew the mill
well, and that he had often seen her, though he did not suppose she
had ever noticed him; and how he had called at the mill, hoping to see
her, and found that her father and she were away from home, a long way
from home, indeed, but not so far that he could not get over the
barrier which divided them.
He told her a great deal more than this. He told her that he was very
fond of her, and that he had come here on purpose to see her, and not
for the rifle competition.
Babette was very quiet when he told her this; she thought he set too
high a value on her.
While they continued rambling, the sun set behind the mighty wall of
rock; the Jungfrau stood out in all its beauty and magnificence, with
the green of the tree-clad slopes on either side of it. All stood
still to admire the gorgeous spectacle, and both Rudy and Babette were
happy in watching it.
"There is no place more lovely than this!" said Babette.
"No, indeed!" exclaimed Rudy, and then he looked at Babette.
"I must go home to-morrow," he said, after a short silence.
"You must come to see us at Bex," Babette whispered to him; "my father
will be pleased."