VISIONS IN THE NIGHT.
The sun was set, the clouds came down in the Rhone valley between the
high mountains, the wind blew from the south, a wind from Africa, but,
over the high Alps, a tempest, rending the clouds asunder, and, when
the wind had swept by, for one instant it was quite still; the torn
clouds hung in fantastic shapes among the tree-clad mountains, and
over the rushing Rhone; they hung in shapes like antediluvian
monsters, like eagles hovering in the air and like frogs leaping in a
pool; they came down over the rapid stream, they sailed over it
although they sailed in the air. The river bore on its surface a
pine-tree torn up by the roots, watery eddies flowed before it; that
was Giddiness--there were more than one--moving in a circle on the
onward-rushing stream. The moon shone on the snow-covered mountain
tops, on the black woods and the strange white clouds, visions of
night, spirits of the powers of nature; the mountain peasants saw
them through the windows, they sailed below in crowds before the
Ice-Maiden who came from her glacier palace, and sat on her
frail-craft, the uprooted pine-tree, carrying the glacier water with
her down the stream to the open lake.
"The wedding guests are coming!" That was what whistled and sang in
the air and the water.
There were visions without and visions within. Babette dreamed a
strange dream.
It appeared to her as if she was married to Rudy, and that many years
had passed. He was now hunting chamois, but she was at home, and there
sat with her the young Englishman with the yellow whiskers. His
glances were warm, his words had a power of witchcraft; he held out
his hands to her, and she was obliged to follow him. They left her
home and went down the mountain, ever down, and it seemed to Babette
as if there lay a burden on her heart, which was always growing
heavier. It was a sin against Rudy, a sin against God. And then on a
sudden she was standing deserted; her clothes were torn by the
thorns, her hair was gray. She looked up in her grief, and on the edge
of a cliff she saw Rudy. She held out her arms towards him, but did
not venture to call or pray. Nor would it have helped her, for she
quickly saw that it was not he, but only his hunting-jacket and hat,
which were hanging on his alpenstock, as hunters set them to deceive
the chamois. And in the depth of her affliction Babette wailed out:
"Oh, that I had died on the day I was married, the day of my greatest
happiness! that would have been a happy life! that would have been the
best thing that could happen for me and Rudy! None knows his future!"
and in her impious grief she precipitated herself into a deep chasm in
the rocks. The spell was broken, and with a cry she awoke.
The dream had vanished, but she knew that she had dreamed something
dreadful, and that she had dreamed of the young Englishman, whom she
had not seen or thought of for several months. Was he in Montreux? Was
she about to see him at the wedding? Her pretty lips tightened at the
thought, and she knit her brows. But soon there came a smile, and her
eyes gleamed; the sun was shining so beautifully outside, and the
morning was that of her wedding with Rudy.
He was already in the parlor when she came down, and soon they were
away to Villeneuve. They were a very happy couple; and the miller with
them laughed and beamed in the highest spirits; he was a good father
and an upright man.
"Now we are the masters at home!" said the parlor cat.