THE COUSIN.
A few days later, when Rudy came to call at the mill, he found the
young Englishman there. Babette was just offering him some boiled
trout, which she herself must have garnished with parsley, it looked
so dainty. That was quite unnecessary. What business had the
Englishman here? What did he come for? To enjoy refreshments from the
hands of Babette? Rudy was jealous, and that amused Babette; it
gratified her to get a glimpse of all sides of his disposition, both
strong and weak. Love was as yet but play to her, and she played with
Rudy's whole heart; and though, as one may say, he was her happiness,
the chief thought of her life, the best and grandest in the world;
yes--but the more gloomy did he look, so much the more did her eyes
laugh; she could almost have kissed the blond Englishman with the
yellow whiskers, if by that means she could succeed in sending Rudy
fuming away, for by that she would know how she was beloved by him.
But this was not right or prudent of little Babette, only she was no
more than nineteen. She did not think much of it; she thought still
less how she could explain her conduct, which was more free and easy
with the young Englishman than was suitable for the miller's modest
and recently betrothed daughter.
The mill was situated where the highroad from Bex runs under the
snow-covered peak which, the country people call the Diablerets, not
far from a rapid, grayish-white mountain stream, like foaming
soap-suds. This did not drive the mill; it was driven by a lesser
stream, which was precipitated from the rock on the other side of the
river, and was dammed up by a stone wall so as to increase its force
and headway, and carried into a closed wooden basin by a broad channel
away over the rapid river. This channel was so abundantly supplied
with water that it overflowed, and made a wet, slippery path for those
who used it as a short cut to the mill. The idea occurred to the young
Englishman to use it, and dressed in white, like a working miller, he
clambered over in the evening, guided by the light shining from
Babette's room. But he had not learnt to climb, and nearly went
head-foremost into the stream, but escaped with wet sleeves and
bespattered trousers. Muddy and dirty he came below Babette's windows,
clambered up into the old lime-tree and imitated the call of an owl,
for he could not sing like any other bird. Babette heard it, and
peeped through her thin curtains; but when she saw the white man, and
easily guessed who it was, her little heart beat with fright and with
resentment. She hastily put out her light, saw that all the
window-bolts were fastened, and left him to hoot.
[Illustration: "Babette peeped through the curtains."]
It would be terrible if Rudy were now in the mill, but Rudy was not in
the mill; no, what was much worse, he was just below it. There was
high talk, angry words; there would be fighting, perhaps murder.
Babette opened her window in alarm, called Rudy's name, and told him
to go away.
"You will not let me stay!" he shouted; "then it is an appointment!
You are expecting good friends, better than me! Shame on you,
Babette!"
"You are detestable!" said Babette; "I hate you!" and now she was
crying. "Go! go!"
"I have not deserved this treatment!" said he, and he went; his cheeks
were like fire, his heart was like fire.
Babette flung herself on her bed, and wept.
"I love you so much, Rudy! and you can believe that of me!"
And she was angry, very angry, and that did her good, for otherwise
she would have been deeply grieved; now she could fall asleep and
sleep the invigorating sleep of youth.