Years passed by, Babette grew into a tall and charming maiden. She
learned to read and write, and to play on the harp. She could even speak
a little French, which was the fashionable language of the Court in
those days. So that with these accomplishments she was considered a fine
lady, far above the village children, who had formerly despised her.
One fine evening (she was then about sixteen years of age) she was
walking with her old nurse in the forest, not far from the Castle,
picking bilberries, and singing to herself songs of her own composing.
The wood was very still; not a leaf stirred. The setting sun shone out
behind a beech-tree, making a brilliant star of iridescent colours that
dazzled her eyes. She heard a sudden noise as of a cough: the bushes
near her rustled. She felt frightened and called out: "Nurse, nurse," in
trembling tones.
As she spoke, a man sprang out of the wood and seized her by the arm.
Nurse began to scream; but the man raised the stick he had in his hand,
and she stood as if turned to stone.
Babette's courage always rose to emergencies. She looked the man over
from head to foot. He was dressed in green, with a red feather in his
cap. His hair was dark and curly; his eyes were large and would have
been beautiful, but that they had a wild and sinister look that Babette
did not like, and squinted slightly. She seemed to remember his face;
but where or when she had seen him before, she did not know. Her first
thought was that he must be a wizard like one of those her grandmother
had told her stories about.
"Who are you?" he said, shaking her slightly.
"I am Babette, daughter of Count Karl of Eppenhain," said Babette
proudly.
"A Count's daughter--a fine tale--the witch's granddaughter you mean,"
he said with emphasis, and Babette shuddered. "Come along with me,
child!" he continued, "you must follow me now, and serve me well and
cook my dinners. I knew your old grandmother and have often seen you as
a child; a little imp you were," he said. "Now it is high time you
learnt to be useful; they will only turn your head, and teach you
rubbish up there at the Castle; you must come along with me now." Then
he turned to the poor nurse, and said, "In half an hour you will be free
to return to the Castle. Adieu!" He fixed his strange eyes on the nurse,
who swooned away, and thus she was found exactly half an hour afterwards
by the housemaid, who had followed her to say that supper was ready.
You may imagine the consternation at the Castle. The poor Countess who
had been so cold to Babette, seemed to feel it most. She sat and cried:
"O Babette, come back, come back, my dear, and I will be a real mother
to you, indeed I will."
The Count immediately took steps to recover her. The forests were
searched through and through by his men; but not the slightest trace
could they discover.
The seven ravens said: "Caw, caw," and set off at once in search of her.
The next day Fotchen and Silverpaws and the other cats disappeared.
Lucky and several of the old witch's hens were also missed.
It was evident that they had all followed Babette, and that she must be
alive somewhere; but where, that was the question. Where there is magic
at work, it is always a difficult matter.
One clever youth remarked that if one could find her pets, why, then one
might find Babette.
But this brilliant idea was not of much use, as they were _all_ lost.
Meanwhile Babette followed her strange guide with many misgivings and
sad sinkings of the heart. They had not gone far when they came to a
cottage in the forest, surrounded, like her granny's garden, by a briar
hedge.
Now I must tell you that Babette had fallen into the power of a reputed
wizard, and he had the power of making everything within this briar
hedge invisible and intangible to those outside. So that poor Babette
would be more safely imprisoned there than in an iron-barred fortress.
She did not realise this at first; she grew to understand it later, when
she became more acquainted with the wizard (or Mr Squint-eyes, as
Babette called him) and his ways. The hedge was so thick and high, and
the thorns were so huge, that it would have been impossible for Babette
to think of squeezing herself through it, and running away.
The wizard parted this hedge with his wand; it closed up thick and close
behind them as they entered.
The cottage garden was laid out in patches of vegetables. Not a flower
was to be seen in it; but there were fruit-trees with ripe apples, and
pears, plums and medlars; for it was the early autumn. They entered into
the little parlour which seemed dark and gloomy to Babette. Mr
Squint-eyes tossed off a mug of beer that stood on the table, and told
her to be off to bed. The poor girl was hungry; for bilberries are not
very satisfying and it was supper time; but she crept up the narrow
stairs, too much frightened to say a word. She found a tiny room with a
white bed in it, a looking-glass, very dim and old and uncanny-looking,
with candlesticks on either side, also a primitive washing-stand.
As she began to undress, a sense of fear and loneliness came over her.
She thought of her happy home at Eppenhain, and of the Count, and hot
tears began to fall. However, she was accustomed to look at the cheerful
side of things. "They are sure to find me to-morrow," she said to
herself; she knew she could not be far away.
The next morning she was awakened by a loud knocking at the door. The
horrid man who had stolen her, poked his head in, "Get up, get up, you
lazy bones," he said, "and see about my breakfast."
Babette hurried downstairs and found a small kitchen, with a door
leading into the garden. There was a heap of dried wood just outside the
door, and, after many attempts, she succeeded in making the fire.
She filled the heavy iron kettle from the pump in the yard, making her
pretty frock quite black.
"That's right, that's the way that women should work," said the wizard
coolly.
Babette felt indignant and thought that he might offer to help her, but
not a bit of it. There he stood, leaning against the door, smoking his
long pipe, the picture of laziness.
"Please where is the coffee?" said Babette.
"Use your eyes and you will find it," said her polite host.
Then she saw a jar on a shelf labelled "Coffee," and near it the
coffee-mill.
Babette ground the beans till she was red in the face. Then she waited
for the water to boil. Whilst she was attending to the coffee, rolls and
butter appeared on the table and a blue and white china coffee service.
The table seemed to have laid itself; for Babette was sure that the man
had never moved from the door. Now breakfast was ready. They sat down
together, the wizard saying never a word, but lifting one eyebrow at
times in a peculiar way that made Babette feel very uncomfortable.
After breakfast he went out of the house saying: "Clean the house, make
the beds, cook the dinner."
"But there is no dinner to cook," said poor Babette.
"Find it," was all the reply she could get out of him.
Now Babette had not been remarkable for obedience and docility, and if
anyone had spoken to her like that at home, she would have rebelled at
once; but she felt instinctively that her safety here lay in doing
exactly as she was told. The man was half-mad she feared, and if she
aroused his wrath, he might do her bodily harm.
The tears came into her eyes; she felt quite in despair; but she was a
brave girl and determined to make the best of things.
The vegetables in the garden occurred to her. She would cook some
carrots; that was easy. Stewed plums would do for pudding; but what
about the soup and the joint?
At this point of her deliberations a hare was thrown over the hedge.
This settled the question. Evidently the man did not wish to starve.
"But how shall I get its fur off?" thought Babette. "Bah! I shall never
be able to skin the creature!"
Just then she heard to her joy a "caw caw," seven times repeated, and
there she saw her dear ravens sitting on a tree just outside the garden.
Now the limit of invisibility did not exist for the witch's favourites.
They flew at once to Babette; she told them her troubles, and showed
them the hare.
"That is an easy matter," said the ravens, "the hare has seven skins; we
are seven ravens, each of us will take off one skin, and may we have the
pickings?" said the greedy fellows.
"Anything, anything you like! Please take it away and bring it back
again all ready to pop in the pot!" said Babette.
"Potted or jugged hare famous!" said the ravens, and they laughed
hoarsely.
"Be quiet, be quiet, or the wizard will catch you!" she said in a
warning tone.
Now the dinner was all ready on the stove. Potatoes she had dug out of
the garden. "Hare and carrots and stewed plums, what can anyone want
more?" she thought, and felt very proud. But suddenly soup occurred to
her. How could she make soup? She had heard that soup was made of bones
and water; but she had no bones, and those nice little halfpenny packets
for making soup out of nothing were not invented in those days.
She put on some hot water with a few carrots and a little chopped
parsley in it and plenty of pepper and salt. She tasted it, as a good
cook should, and said to herself: "Not bad, I have tasted worse."
She laid the table, and punctually at one o'clock the man came in.
Babette trembled. He proceeded at once to business; that is, he sat
down to dinner.
Soup came first, which was unfortunate. "Bah!" he said, making a
horribly wry face, "what stuff, child, do you want to make me sick?"
"No-o-o," said poor Babette.
"Never make such soup again, or I shall fetch my sister, and she will
cook _you_," he said with a terrible look.
However the hare was tender, and when a pot of red-currant jelly
produced itself, seemingly from nowhere, it was quite a fine dinner.
The carrots were hard, and "not scraped," as the wizard said severely.
"Plums too much sugar."
But in spite of all this grumbling she felt immensely proud of her
morning's work. The house was not cleaned; neither were the beds made;
but this he did not seem to notice. He lay on the sofa by the window,
covered himself up with a bear skin, and snored loudly with his mouth
open.
Babette made up the fire, and put the kettle on to boil for tea. Then
she strolled out into the garden. She climbed up into a pear-tree. From
her perch in its branches she could see far into the woods. She wondered
when her friends would come and rescue her.
Then she saw to her delight Lucky and some of her favourite cocks and
hens wandering about in search of her. They came scuttling up at once.
She held up one finger to enjoin silence. She feared that her capturer
might take a fancy for roast fowl if he should see them. So they hid
under the hedge.
"Now I can make scrambled eggs for supper," thought Babette joyfully.
Fotchen and Silverpaws had likewise no rest when their mistress was
gone, and they too set out in search of her. When they reached the briar
hedge, Babette was indoors making tea. They began to miew and made a
great noise.
"The old woman's cats, by Thor!" said the wizard. "They know a thing or
two. I'll go and let them in." So saying he again parted the hedge with
his wand, and let them through. Although Babette was very pleased to see
them, she felt a little anxious as to their welfare.
However the wizard scratched their heads, and was quite affectionate to
them. He had, it seemed, a partiality for cats.
Babette felt a little happier now that her pets were with her; yet her
heart was sore. She thought of her lovely house, of her kind, good
foster-father, and of all her friends, and the tears stood in her eyes.
Several weeks passed away, and Babette cooked and scrubbed every day in
fear and trembling, like a regular little Cinderella. Being German, she
was used to helping in the household, and was not so inexperienced as
many English girls would have been. But never a word of praise did she
get from her queer companion; but if anything were amiss, then he opened
his mouth and scolded the poor girl roughly.