The Ice-Maiden | Page 9

for a withered trunk of a tree; but it was Rudy. He slept not and still less was he dead; but as the most important events of this earth, as well as affairs of vital moment for individuals pass over the wires, without their giving out a tone or a tremulous movement, even so flashed through Rudy, thoughts--powerful, overwhelming, speaking of the happiness of his life; his, henceforth, "constant thought." His eyes were fixed upon a point in the trellis-work, and this was a light in Babette's sitting room. Rudy was so motionless, one might have thought that he was observing a chamois, in order to shoot it. Now, however, he was like the chamois--which appears sculptured on the rock, and suddenly if a stone rolls, springs and flies away--thus stood Rudy, until a thought struck him.
"Never despair," said he. "I shall make a visit to the mill, and say: Good evening miller, good evening Babette! One does not fall when one does not think of it! Babette must see me, if I am to be her husband!"
And Rudy laughed, was of good cheer and went to the mill; he knew what he wanted, he wanted Babette.
The river, with its yellowish white water rolled on; the willow trees and the lindens bowed themselves deep in the hastening water; Rudy went along the path, and as it says in the old child's song:
---- ---- ---- Zu des M��llers Haus, Aber da war Niemand drinnen Nur die Katze schaute aus![B]
The house-cat stood on the step, put up her back and said: "Miau!" but Rudy had no thoughts for her language, he knocked, no one heard, no one opened. "Miau!" said the cat. If Rudy had been little, he would have understood the speech of animals and known that the cat told him: "There is no one at home!" He was obliged to cross over to the mill, to make inquiries, and here he had news. The master of the house was away on a journey, far away in the town of Interlaken--inter lacus, "between the lakes"--as the school-master, Annette's father, had explained, in his wisdom. Far away was the miller and Babette with him; there was to be a shooting festival, which was to commence on the following day and to continue for a whole week. The Swiss from all the German cantons were to meet there.
Poor Rudy, one could well say that he had not taken the happiest time to visit Bex; now he could return and that was what he did. He took the road over Sion and St. Maurice, back to his own valley, back to his own mountain, but he was not down-cast. On the following morning, when the sun rose, his good humour had returned, in fact it had never left him.
"Babette is in Interlaken, many a day's journey from here!" said he to himself, "it is a long road thither, if one goes by the highway, but not so far if one passes over the rocks and that is the road for a chamois hunter! I went this road formerly, for there is my home, where I lived with my grandfather when I was a little child, and they have a shooting festival in Interlaken! I will be the first one there, and that will I be with Babette also, as soon as I have made her acquaintance!"
With his light knapsack containing his Sunday clothes, with his gun and his huntsman's pouch, Rudy ascended the mountain. The short road, was a pretty long one, but the shooting-match had but commenced to-day and was to last more than a week; the miller and Babette were to remain the whole time, with their relations in Interlaken. Rudy crossed the Gemmi, for he wished to go to Grindelwald.
He stepped forwards merry and well, out into the fresh, light mountain air. The valley sank beneath him, the horizon widened; here and there a snow-peak, and soon appeared the whole shining white alpine chain. Rudy knew every snow mountain, onward he strode towards the Schreckhorn, that elevates its white powdered snow-finger high in the air.
At last he crossed the ridge of the mountain and the pasture-grounds and reached the valley of his home; the air was light and his spirits gay, mountain and valley stood resplendent with verdure and flowers. His heart was filled with youthful thoughts;--that one can never grow old, never die; but live, rule and enjoy;--free as a bird, light as a bird was he. The swallows flew by and sang as in his childhood: "We and you, and You and we!" All was happiness.
Below lay the velvet-green meadow, with its brown wooden houses, the L��tschine hummed and roared. He saw the glacier with its green glass edges and its black crevices in the deep snow, and the