A young man was returning home after a day's hunting. He was the son of
the knight of a neighbouring castle, and his name was Sir Rudolf of
Ruppertshain. It was a hot afternoon; the sunlight made a chequered
pattern through the forest trees. His bag was heavy with game, and he
whistled merrily as he strode between the oak-trees and bracken fern. He
had a light heart and an easy conscience, few enemies and many friends,
and added to these advantages was the exhilarating feeling of youth and
perfect health.
Suddenly he stopped and looked around him, startled. He heard a sweet
voice singing. The notes were clear and distinct as those of a bird, and
yet it was no bird. Who could it be in this lonely spot? He could
distinguish the words of the song as he held his breath to listen:
"A lonely maiden, I,
Sit here and sob and sigh;
No man my face can see,
Ah, who will rescue me?
O lack-a-daisy-me!
O wasted life of mine!
Here must I sadly pine;
My young life hid must be
From all humanity.
O lack-a-daisy me!
O were a knight so bold,
As in the time of old,
In days of chivalry,
He would deliver me!
O lack-a-daisy-me!"
Rudolf's eyes were trained by hunting. He searched the woods carefully
round that place, and peered behind every bush and tree; but nothing was
to be seen. His heart beat fast, this was a real adventure. Surely if a
wood-nymph or fairy were to appear to him here in this lonely forest, it
would hardly seem strange.
So he summoned up his courage and addressed the wood-spirit as he
thought. "Who are you? Where are you?" he said. "Be you wood-sprite or
fairy, I fear you not. I am ready to do your bidding; for your sweet
voice and your distress have touched my heart: appear, O appear!"
Babette (for of course it was she) trembled with excitement. This was
really a chance of escape. She had seen the young huntsman from her
perch in the pear-tree, and had made up the impromptu song. She thought
it was even more original than her cooking. Now she answered eagerly:
"Alas it is impossible for me to appear unto you; for I am as invisible
as if I had on Siegfried's cap of darkness. I was stolen by a horrid
wizard when I was walking in the forest with my nurse. Surely you have
heard of me?"
Now of course Sir Rudolf had heard of Babette,--the story of whose
kidnapping was told all over the country, and became more wonderful with
every telling. Some people said that the devil himself had carried her
off; this was really unkind; for Babette, though lively, was not a bad
girl, as we know.
"Are you Babette, the witch's granddaughter?" said the young man
hesitatingly.
"O don't, don't say that, I want to forget that!" said Babette, and he
heard a slight sob. "I am the adopted daughter of Count Karl of
Eppenhain, and O, a wicked wizard holds me here invisible under a
powerful spell. Just think," said Babette crying again, "I slave for him
all day and cook and do all the house-work, and never a kind word or
look do I get from him in return. It is a shame. O dear! O dear!"
"Please don't cry, I really cannot bear it, when I cannot even see you
to comfort you," said Rudolf tenderly. "Tell me what to do! Shall I
shoot the wizard?"
"No, of course not; besides, he is invisible, too. You might walk
through us all, and notice no difference, so subtle is the spell," said
Babette.
Rudolf was one of those specially gifted mortals in whom the sense of
things unseen is as clearly developed as the senses of sight and
hearing. He never doubted Babette's reality, though I think a more
up-to-date youth would certainly have done so, and have thought that his
imagination was playing tricks with him. He felt much distressed and
perplexed, but could think of no way out of this strange dilemma.
But an inspiration came to Babette.
"Go to Mother Holle," she said, "if you really wish to help me. She was
an intimate friend of my grandmother's, and she is a powerful fairy and
can perhaps help us. What is your name, brave youth?" she continued.
"Sir Rudolf of Ruppertshain," he answered. "Why, then, I know your
mother quite well; but you were away travelling with your father, when I
visited your castle. But quick, we must not delay matters by
conversation, though it is _dreadfully_ nice to talk to a real human
being again." Her voice sounded near and yet far away; "a curious kind
of conversation," Rudolf thought it was.
"Where can I find Mother Holle?" said Rudolf. "And will she not drop
pitch on my head? I should be no good at shaking feather beds, you see!"
"Nonsense, she won't expect you to do anything of the sort. She is very
kind and friendly; she lives on the Rossert Mountain, quite near to your
Castle. Hush, hush, go now! my tyrant is waking up; if he were to
suspect us! Go!--go!"
A complete and somewhat unnatural silence followed, like one of those
awkward pauses in the conversation when we entertain stiff callers for
the first time.
Then Rudolf took the precaution of marking the position of the trees in
that part of the woods.
Three tall fir-trees raised their heads among the beech and oaks. He cut
a cross [image: anti-clockwise swastika] thus, on each one of them,
because trees are so deceptive. This mark is the old symbol of the
Mithras cult, two axes placed sideways signifying the striking of fire.
It is an old sign known and respected by the fairies; so he hoped that
the good folk would see it and further his quest.
On one of the firs the ravens were assembled. They caw-cawed seven times
to indicate their willingness to lend Rudolf their aid.
The wizard looked at Babette closely that evening. The new-born hope,
perhaps, too, the sight of the handsome stranger had given an extra
colour to her cheeks. "I may have trouble with her yet!" he said to
himself, and cleared his throat with a rumbling sound.
I must tell you that the cocks and hens had betrayed themselves. They
were silent all through the night, but when the dawn broke, they could
not resist one cock-a-doodle-doo! Then the wizard chuckled and brought
them in; but nothing had happened to them as yet.
Babette lived during the next days in a state of suppressed excitement.
She felt that something _must_ happen for good or evil; but she did not
know what. Patient waiting! a hard lesson for all of us to learn, but
harder still for a maiden of seventeen years who had been kept so long
in that dull hole. She had passed her birthday in that horrid place!
just think of it, and not one birthday present did she get. She made up
for it afterwards by having two birthdays at once; but it was not
_quite_ so nice.
Meanwhile Sir Rudolf had turned homewards pondering on his strange
adventure, and fully determined to seek Mother Holle's aid. Should he go
first to the Castle of Eppenhain and tell Babette's foster-parents that
he had found out where Babette was imprisoned? He felt that, credulous
though they were in those days, they would only laugh at him, and
consider the story as outside the range of possibility. They might even
suggest that a cask of Rhine wine had clouded his intelligence; no, he
would go home to Ruppertshain Castle and have supper, and think it over.
So he returned home, and was so silent and dreamy, and his appetite,
which was usually of heroic proportions, was so small that his mother
felt quite anxious about him.
"You are not bewitched, Rudie dear?" she asked anxiously, just as we
might inquire if he were a little upset.
"I am not sure, mother, maybe I am!" he answered to the good lady's
dismay.
After sprinkling him with various herbs, she insisted on his drinking
some nasty aromatic tea when he went to bed. As she had put some
spider's legs in it and a few choice things of that sort, Rudolf asked
to be allowed to take it upstairs with him. Then I regret to say he
deceived the good lady by pouring it out of the window. I rather think
that you or I might have done the same thing under the circumstances,
though it was undoubtedly wrong.
The full moon was shining into the little window in the gable of the
turret. He shook off the very natural sleepiness and fatigue consequent
on his night's hunting, took off his soiled clothes, and dressed
himself in his fine velvet Court suit with the beautiful lace on the
collar.
He opened the little window, squeezed himself (it was lucky that he was
slight for a German knight) through the iron bars, and climbed on to the
roof with some difficulty, not to say danger. Then he crawled
noiselessly along the Castle walls, fearing to be challenged by the
warder of the Castle on his nightly rounds. But the warder was just
enjoying his seventh glass of lager beer, and was not very keen on the
look-out.
As he dropped outside the walls, his favourite dog began to bark and beg
to go with him; but Rudolf did not dare to let him out for fear of
creating a disturbance.
He soon gained the little path which led through Eppenhain, and then
through fields to the woods that clothed the Rossert. Great clouds had
obscured the moon; but he was not afraid; he was so used to the woods
and could distinguish one creature from another simply by its movements.
In his hand he carried a dark lantern. A rough path covered with rocks
and stones led to the summit of the mountain. As he walked cautiously
along, a bat hit him in the face as it blundered along. "Hi, ho, steady
there, old fellow!" said Rudolf. He now entered the part of the woods
where the beeches and oaks grow so closely together that at midday the
sky seems green, rather than blue. The moon shone out suddenly, and he
saw by its light a gruesome-looking head without a body that seemed to
grin at him from among the undergrowth. His heart stood still for a
moment, and then he laughed at his fears; for he saw that it was only a
grotesque old tree-stump, such as one so often sees in the woods.
Suddenly he saw a bright light through the trees, as if one of the
bushes were on fire, or was it merely the brilliant moonbeams shining on
a wet clearing?
For a moment all was still; then lightning played across his path,
revealing a huge clumsy-looking giant who stood with club uplifted in
the way, looking as if he would dash his brains out. Brave though Rudolf
was, he did not wish to court danger; so he turned aside into the woods
hoping to find another path before long that was not thus barricaded.
Then voices seemed to mock him and to laugh at him, and he had the
unpleasant sensation of dark shadows, moving as he moved, shadows
unaccompanied by substance.
The rain came down, pouring, drenching rain, such as the forests love.
In a few minutes he was wet to the skin, as wet as if he had plunged
into the river with his clothes on. Naturally his vanity was to blame
for this; in his stout hunting clothes and thick leather boots even a
deluge could not have wetted him through. To add to this, the air was
close and stifling, and he had lost his way. All this for the sake of an
unseen maiden. What if she were as old and ugly as Fraeulein Kunigunde of
whom Heinrich von Kleist has written? Somehow he felt that was
impossible; but even if it had been so, his natural gallantry would not
have deserted him, and we will hope that he would still have sought to
deliver her.
A Christian knight is ready to help all women, be they young or old,
rich or poor, plain or pretty.
The rain had ceased; but there was a sense of something oppressive in
the atmosphere. An owl with eyes that looked like live coals glared at
him from the branch of an oak-tree, vanishing as he approached. A fox?
No, it was too large for a fox; it was a wolf (there were really wolves
in the Taunus woods in those days!) came up to him snarling. Rudolf had
his gun ready, but the creature moved away into the darkest shades,
snarling and growling as it went.
Altogether I cannot say it was a pleasant walk. I do not think any one
of us would have enjoyed it all alone at the dead of night, do you?
At this moment came a flash of lightning that struck down a tree just
before Rudolf's eyes. He crossed himself involuntarily and muttered a
paternoster.
A lull followed the storm; the heavens were clear again. Rudolf made out
by the light of his lantern a triangular spot made by three footpaths
crossing. It was bare of all vegetation; black ashes were heaped up in
the middle as if gipsies had lately lit a fire there.
An irresistible impulse made him enter this triangle, though he felt as
if long ghostly arms were trying to hold him back.
No sooner had he stepped on to this spot than he fell into a deep sleep
or faint. When he awoke, he saw a wonderful light near him, and in the
midst of the light which seemed to radiate from her presence, was a
beautiful lady, with long rippling fair hair.
"You are safe now in my kingdom," she said. "You have passed the
boundary between the good and evil powers, and have left the dangers of
the night behind you."
"O can you tell me where to find Mother Holle, beautiful fairy?" he
said.
"Easily enough, for I _am_ Mother Holle!" she answered. "I know why you
have come here, and I am ready to help you." She took him by the hand,
and he leapt to his feet, making a low bow to the lovely lady. All the
evil dreams that had perplexed him, fled as the night before the day,
and he could have shouted hurrah! for joy and gladness.
He had the unshaken confidence in the final victory of good over evil,
that is so necessary to help us to any measure of success in this world
with its chequered lights.
He walked with Mother Holle a little way, till they came to an arbour
made of honeysuckle and wild roses, surrounded by banks of evening
primroses, round which luminous moths were fluttering. Into this they
entered, and she sat down and gazed at him, till he was quite
overwhelmed with her beauty. He had expected to see an old witch
hobbling along with a stick and to have feather beds to make! Feather
pillows, indeed, there were in the arbour, very cosy and soft. It was
delightful to have a chat with such a woman in such a place, even if
there were no Babette in the world.
Mother Holle began to speak, her voice sounded like the murmur of the
fir-trees.
"I have heard that pretty little Babette has fallen into the power of a
bad man. He stole the magic book from her grandmother's house at a time
when the old lady was ill and feeble, shortly before her death. He has
been only able to make out a few of the spells--that, for instance, for
rendering things invisible. He is not a real wizard, so that if you
obtain the book, the power will be yours. But I strongly advise you to
have nothing to do with magic; it is very dangerous; but to return the
book to me, to whom, in fact, it rightfully belongs."
"Have no fear of that," laughed Rudolf. "I don't want it, I would not
touch it with the tongs if I could help it."
"Now listen carefully to my instructions! At the foot of one of the
fir-trees, grows a red toadstool, spotted with white. On it sits an ugly
old toad. Take this handkerchief (she gave him a lovely gauze scarf),
wrap the toad in it, and cast it to the ground. Pull up the toadstool.
Then the whole place will become visible, and you will be able to
consult with Babette as to how to overcome old Squint-eyes, as she calls
him.
"Hold this candle alight in your hand"--she gave him the young pointed
top of a fir-tree--"it will keep off evil spells. When you have overcome
the man, bind him with this grass." So saying, she gave him a bundle of
silvery woodland grass. "Then tie him up to the tallest of the three
fir-trees and leave him to us. We will punish him according to his
deserts, and teach him to behave better in the future."
"Can you tell me anything about the fair young lady herself? Is she
really the granddaughter of a witch? I could well believe it; for
verily she has bewitched me; but who were her parents? I wish to know
for her own sake," asked Rudolf anxiously.
"The old woman was really her nurse," said Mother Holle. "It is true
that the woman had fairy blood in her veins and was learned in magic,
but she never used her powers for any evil purposes, and as for riding
on a broomstick, she abhorred such practices. Babette is the
granddaughter of the great Baron of Siebenbergen. The Baron brought his
children up strictly as became their rank; but his youngest son ran away
from home, and married a village maiden much beneath him in rank.
"His father was exceedingly angry and refused to acknowledge her. The
young wife died when Babette was born. The father went off in despair to
the wars. He entrusted the tiny baby to the care of an old woman who had
formerly been his own nurse. This old woman, who was spoken of later as
Babette's grandmother, had been nurse to the children in Siebenbergen
Castle for many years; but she had been dismissed suddenly in her old
age, because evil tongues had denounced her as a witch. The Baron did
not believe in the charge, but, nevertheless, he was obliged to send her
away. He had his own reputation in the country to think of, and the
charge of witchcraft was no light one in those days, and not so easy to
disprove. He gave her a handsome pension, and a comfortable house and
troubled himself no more about her.
"Babette's father lost interest in life on the death of his dearly
beloved peasant wife. He fought recklessly in the front of the battle,
and fell, covered with many wounds. His body was brought home for burial
and there was a grand funeral in Siebenbergen. Everyone praised his
heroism, and lamented his early death, but no one inquired after his
peasant wife, or knew of the existence of his baby daughter.
"The notice of the marriage and the certificate of Babette's birth are
to be found in the church of Eppenhain, all duly registered and
complete.
"The old nurse became very feeble and was hardly fitted to bring up such
a wild, high-spirited child as Babette. That is all I can tell you; you
must find the papers, and test the accuracy of the story for yourself."
Rudolf was deeply interested; his heart beat fast. Babette became more
and more interesting, wrapped round in a web of romance. He wanted to
ask more questions of Mother Holle; but she faded slowly away. As she
vanished, a voice said: "Adieu, follow the light path, and nothing can
molest you."
A long stream of light shone out from where she had stood and illumined
the way through the woods. It shone on and on in one great bright path,
like the moon shining over the sea. Rudolf reached home walking like one
in a dream, his head full of strange and marvellous fancies.