IN THE MILLER'S HOUSE.
"What horrid nonsense it is with these human beings!" said the parlor
cat to the kitchen cat. "Now it is broken off again with Babette and
Rudy. She is crying, and he does not think any more of her."
"I can't endure that," said the kitchen cat.
"No more can I," said the parlor cat, "but I won't grieve over it!
Babette may now be the beloved of the red whiskers! but he has not
been here since he wished to get on the roof."
The powers of evil have their game, both without us and within us.
This Rudy had discovered and thought over. What was it that had taken
place about him and in him on the top of the mountain? Was it a
vision, or a feverish dream? Never before had he known fever or
illness. He had made an examination of his own heart when he judged
Babette. Could he confess to Babette the thoughts which assailed him
in the hour of temptation? He had lost her ring, and it was exactly in
that loss that she had regained him. Would she confess to him? It
seemed as if his heart would burst asunder when he thought of her;
there arose within him so many memories; he seemed really to see her,
laughing like a merry child. Many an affectionate word she had spoken
in the abundance of her heart came like a gleam of sunshine into his
breast, and soon it was all sunshine therein for Babette.
She might be able to confess to him, and she ought to do so.
He went to the mill, and confessed, beginning with a kiss, and ending
in the admission that he was the offender. It was a great offense in
him that he could distrust Babette's fidelity; it was almost
unpardonable! Such distrust, such impetuosity might bring them both to
grief. Yes, indeed! and therefore Babette lectured him, and she was
pleased with herself, and it suited her so well. But in one thing Rudy
was right--godmother's relation was a chatterbox! She wished to burn
the book which he had given her, and not have the least thing in her
possession that could remind her of him.
"Now that's all over!" said the parlor cat. "Rudy is here again, they
understand each other, and that is the greatest good fortune, they
say."
"I heard in the night," said the kitchen cat, "the rats say the
greatest good fortune is to eat tallow-candles and to have quite
enough rancid bacon. Now, which shall I believe--rats, or a pair of
lovers?"
"Neither of them!" said the parlor cat. "That is always safest."
The greatest good fortune for Rudy and Babette was close at hand; the
wedding day--the most beautiful day, as they called it.
But the marriage was not to take place at the church at Bex, or in the
miller's house; the godmother wished the wedding to be held at her
house, and that they should be married in the pretty little church at
Montreux. The miller stuck to it that this request should be complied
with; he alone was aware what the godmother intended to give the
bride for a wedding present, and considered they ought to make so
slight a concession. The day was fixed. On the previous evening they
were to journey to Villeneuve, and to proceed in the early morning to
Montreux by boat, that the godmother's daughters might deck the bride.
"There will be a feast here the day after the wedding," said the
parlor cat. "Otherwise I would not give one mew for the lot."
"There _will_ be a feast!" said the kitchen cat; "ducks and pigeons
are killed, and a whole deer hangs on the wall. It makes my mouth
water to look at it! In the morning they start on their journey."
Yes, in the morning! This evening Rudy and Babette sat together, as
betrothed, for the last time at the mill.
Out of doors was the Alpine glow, the evening bells chimed, the
daughters of the sunbeams sang: "May the best thing happen!"