{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_40283/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_40283","id":"gutenberg_40283","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/40283","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Historical Novels","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Novels","Fairy tales"],"text":"RUDY AND BABETTE\n\n    _Or, The Capture of the Eagle's Nest_\n\n    By HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN\n\n\n    WITH TWENTY ILLUSTRATIONS\n\n    By HELEN STRATTON\n\n\n    A. L. BURT COMPANY,\n\n    PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK\n\n\n\n\n        CONTENTS\n\n\n       CHAPTER I.  LITTLE RUDY\n      CHAPTER II.  GOING TO THE NEW HOME\n     CHAPTER III.  UNCLE\n      CHAPTER IV.  BABETTE\n       CHAPTER V.  THE RETURN HOME\n      CHAPTER VI.  A VISIT TO THE MILL\n     CHAPTER VII.  THE EAGLE'S NEST\n    CHAPTER VIII.  I HOLD FAST TO BABETTE\n      CHAPTER IX.  THE ICE-MAIDEN\n       CHAPTER X.  THE GODMOTHER\n     CHAPTER XII.  THE POWERS OF EVIL\n    CHAPTER XIII.  IN THE MILLER'S HOUSE\n     CHAPTER XIV.  VISIONS IN THE NIGHT\n      CHAPTER XV.  CONCLUSION\n                   THE FELLOW-TRAVELER\n                   THE OLD BACHELOR'S NIGHTCAP\n                   THE GARDEN OF PARADISE\n\n\n\n\nRUDY AND BABETTE;\n\nOR,\n\nTHE CAPTURE OF THE EAGLE'S NEST.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nLITTLE RUDY.\n\n\nLet us now go to Switzerland, and see its wonderful mountains, whose\nsteep, rocky sides are covered with trees. We will climb up to the\nfields of snow, and then make our way down to the grassy valleys, with\ntheir countless streams and rivulets, impetuously rushing to lose\nthemselves in the sea. The sunshine is hot in the narrow valley; the\nsnow becomes firm and solid, and in the course of time it either\ndescends as an avalanche, or creeps along as a glacier. There are two\nof these glaciers in the valleys below the Schreckhorn and the\nWetterhorn, near the long village of Grindelwald. They are a\nremarkable sight, and therefore many travelers from all countries come\nin the summer to visit them: they come over the high mountains covered\nwith snow, they traverse the deep valleys; and to do this they must\nclimb, hour after hour, leaving the valley far beneath them, till they\nsee it as if they were in an air-balloon. The clouds hang above them\nlike thick mists over the mountains, and the sun's rays make their way\nthrough the openings between the clouds to where the brown houses lie\nspread, lighting up some chance spot with a vivid green. Below, the\nstream foams and blusters; but above it murmurs and ripples, and looks\nlike a band of silver hanging down the side of the rock.\n\nOn either side of the path up the mountain lie wooden houses. Each\nhouse has its little plot of potatoes; and this they all require, for\nthere are many children, and they all have good appetites. The\nchildren come out to meet every stranger, whether walking or riding,\nand ask him to buy their carved wooden ch\u00e2lets, made like the houses\nthey live in. Be it fine or be it wet, the children try to sell their\ncarvings.\n\nAbout twenty years since you might have seen one little boy standing\napart from the others, but evidently very desirous to dispose of his\nwares. He looked grave and sad, and held his little tray tightly with\nboth hands as if he was afraid of losing it. This serious look and his\nsmall size caused him to be much noticed by travelers, who often\ncalled him and purchased many of his toys, though he did not know why\nhe was so favored. His grandfather lived two miles off among the\nmountains, where he did his carving. He had a cabinet full of the\nthings he had made. There were nut-crackers, knives and forks, boxes\ncarved with leaves and chamois, and many toys for children; but little\nRudy cared for nothing so much as for an old gun, hanging from a\nrafter in the ceiling, for his grandfather had told him it should be\nhis own when he was big enough to know how to use it.\n\nThough the boy was little, he was set in charge of the goats; and Rudy\ncould climb as high as any of his flock, and was fond of climbing tall\ntrees after birds' nests. He was brave and high-spirited, but he never\nsmiled except when he watched the foaming cataract, or heard the\nthundering roar of an avalanche. He never joined in the children's\ngames, and only met them when his grandfather sent him to sell his\ncarvings; and this employment Rudy did not much like. He would rather\nwander alone amongst the mountains, or sit by his grandfather while he\ntold him stories of former ages, or of the people who lived at\nMeiningen, from whence he had come. He told him they had not always\nlived there, but had come from a distant northern country called\nSweden. Rudy took great pride in this knowledge; but he also learnt\nmuch from his four-footed friends. He had a large dog, named Ajola,\nwho had been his father's; and he had also a tom-cat who was his\nparticular friend, for it was from him he had learnt how to climb.\n\n\"Come with me on the roof,\" the cat said to him; for when children\nhave not learnt to talk, they can understand the speech of birds and\nanimals quite as well as that of their father and mother; but that is\nonly while they are very little, and their grandfather's stick seems\nas good as a live horse, with head, legs, and tail. Some children lose\nthis later than others, and we call them backward. People say such\nfunny things!\n\n\"Come with me, little Rudy, on the roof,\" was one of the first things\nthe cat had said which Rudy had understood: \"it is all imagination\nabout falling; you don't fall if you are not afraid. Come; put one of\nyour paws so, and the other so! Feel for yourself with your fore-paws!\nUse your eyes and be active; and if there's a crevice, just spring and\ntake firm hold, as I do!\"\n\nRudy did as he was told, and you might often have seen him sitting\nbeside the cat on the top of the roof; afterwards they climbed\ntogether to the tops of the trees, and Rudy even found his way to the\nrocky ledges which were quite out of the cat's reach.\n\n\"Higher! higher!\" said the trees and the bushes; \"see how we can\nclimb. We stretch upwards, and take firm hold of the highest and\nnarrowest ledges of the rocks.\"\n\nSo Rudy found his way to the very top of the mountain, and often got\nup there before sunrise; for he enjoyed the pure invigorating air,\nfresh from the hands of the Creator, which men say combines the\ndelicate perfume of the mountain herbs with the sweet scent of the\nwild thyme and the mint found in the valley. The grosser part of it is\ntaken up by the clouds, and as they are carried by the winds, the\nlofty trees catch the fragrance and make the air pure and fresh. And\nso Rudy loved the morning air.\n\nThe happy sunbeams kissed his cheek, and Giddiness, who was always\nnear, was afraid to touch him; the swallows, who had built seven\nlittle nests under his grandfather's eaves, circled about him and his\ngoats, singing: \"We and you! and you and we!\" They reminded him of his\nhome, his grandfather, and of the fowls; but although the fowls lived\nwith them in the same house, Rudy had never made friends with them.\n\nAlthough he was such a little boy, he had already traveled a\nconsiderable distance. His birthplace was in the canton of Vallais,\nwhence he had been brought over the mountains to where he now lived.\nHe had even made his way on foot to the Staubbach, which descends\nthrough the air gleaming like silver below the snow-clad mountain\ncalled the Jungfrau. He had also been to the great glacier at\nGrindelwald; but that was a sad story. His mother lost her life at\nthat spot; and Rudy's grandfather said that it was there he had lost\nhis happy spirits. Before he was a twelvemonth old his mother used to\nsay that he laughed more than he cried, but since he had been rescued\nfrom the crevasse in the ice, a different spirit seemed to have\npossession of him. His grandfather would not talk of it, but every one\nin that district knew the story.\n\nRudy's father had been a postilion. The large dog, which was now lying\nin the grandfather's room, was his constant companion when traveling\nover the Simplon on his way to the Lake of Geneva. Some of his\nrelations lived in the valley of the Rhone, in the canton of Vallais.\nHis uncle was a successful chamois-hunter and an experienced guide.\nWhen Rudy was only a twelvemonth old his father died, and his mother\nnow wished to return to her own relations in the Bernese Oberland. Her\nfather lived not many miles from Grindelwald; he was able to maintain\nhimself by wood-carving. So she started on her journey in the month of\nJune, with her child in her arms, and in the company of two\nchamois-hunters, over the Gemmi towards Grindelwald. They had\naccomplished the greater part of their journey, had passed the highest\nridge and reached the snow-field, and were now come in sight of the\nvalley where her home was, with its well-remembered wooden houses, but\nstill had to cross one great glacier. It was covered with recent snow,\nwhich hid a crevasse which was much deeper than the height of a man,\nalthough it did not extend to where the water rushed below the\nglacier. The mother, while carrying her baby, slipped, fell into\nthe cleft, and disappeared from sight. She did not utter a sound, but\nthey could hear the child crying. It was more than an hour before they\ncould fetch ropes and poles from the nearest house, and recover what\nseemed to be two corpses from the cleft in the ice. They tried every\npossible means, and succeeded in restoring the child, but not his\nmother, to life; so the old man had his daughter's son brought into\nhis home, a little orphan, the boy who used to laugh more than he\ncried; but he seemed to be entirely changed, and this change was made\ndown in the crevasse, in the cold world of ice, where, as the Swiss\npeasants think, lost souls are imprisoned until Doomsday.\n\n[Illustration: She started on her journey, with her child in her arms,\nand in company of two chamois-hunters.]\n\nThe immense glacier looks like the waves of the sea frozen into ice,\nthe great greenish blocks heaped together, while the cold stream of\nmelted ice rushes below towards the valley, and huge caverns and\nimmense crevasses stretch far away beneath it. It is like a palace of\nglass, and is the abode of the Ice-Maiden, the Queen of the Glaciers.\nShe, the fatal, the overwhelming one, is in part a spirit of the air,\nthough she also rules over the river; therefore she can rise to the\ntopmost peak of the snow mountain, where the adventurous climbers have\nto cut every step in the ice before they can place their feet; she can\nfloat on the smallest branch down the torrent, and leap from block to\nblock with her white hair and her pale blue robe flying about her, and\nresembling the water in the beautiful Swiss lakes.\n\n\"I have the power to crush and to seize!\" she cries. \"They have robbed\nme of a lovely boy whom I have kissed, but have not killed. He now\nlives among men: he keeps his goats amid the hills, he ever climbs\nhigher and higher away from his fellows, but not away from me. He\nbelongs to me, and I will again have him!\"\n\nSo she charged Giddiness to seize him for her, for the Ice-Maiden\ndared not venture among the woods in the hot summer time; and\nGiddiness and his brethren--for there are many of them--mounted up to\nthe Ice-Maiden, and she selected the strongest of them for her\npurpose. They sit on the edge of the staircase, and on the rails at\nthe top of the tower; they scamper like squirrels on the ridge of the\nrock, they leap from the rails and the footpath, and tread the air\nlike a swimmer treading water, to tempt their victims after them and\ndash them into the abyss. Both Giddiness and the Ice-Maiden seize a\nman as an octopus seizes all within its reach. And now Giddiness had\nbeen charged to seize little Rudy.\n\n\"I seize him!\" said Giddiness; \"I cannot. The miserable cat has taught\nhim all her tricks. The boy possesses a power which keeps me from him;\nI cannot seize him even when he hangs by a branch above the precipice.\nI should be delighted to tickle his feet, or pitch him headlong\nthrough the air; but I cannot!\"\n\n\"We will succeed between us,\" said the Ice-Maiden. \"Thou or I! I! I!\"\n\n\"No, no!\" an unseen voice replied, sounding like distant church bells;\nthe joyful singing of good spirits--the Daughters of the Sun. These\nfloat above the mountain every evening; they expand their rosy wings\nwhich glow more and more like fire as the sun nears to setting over\nthe snowy peaks. People call it the \"Alpine glow.\" And after sunset\nthey withdraw into the snow and rest there until sunrise, when they\nagain show themselves. They love flowers, and butterflies and human\nbeings; and they were particularly fond of Rudy.\n\n\"You shall never catch him--you shall never have him,\" said they.\n\n\"I have captured bigger and stronger boys than he,\" said the\nIce-Maiden.\n\nThe Daughters of the Sun now sang a song of a traveler whose cloak was\ncarried away by the storm: \"The storm took the cloak but not the man.\nYou can grasp at him, but not hold him, ye strong ones. He is\nstronger, he is more spiritual than we are! He will ascend above the\nsun, our mother! He has the power to bind the winds and the waves, and\nmake them serve him and do his bidding. If you unloose the weight that\nholds him down, you will set him free to rise yet higher.\"\n\nThus ran the chorus which sounded like distant church bells.\n\nEach morning the sunbeams shone through the little window of the\ngrandfather's house and lighted on the silent boy. The Daughters of\nthe Sun kissed him, and tried to thaw the cold kisses which the Queen\nof the Glaciers had given him, while he was in the arms of his dead\nmother, in the deep crevasse, whence he had been so wonderfully\nrescued.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nGOING TO THE NEW HOME.\n\n\nRudy was now a boy of eight. His uncle, who lived in the Rhone valley\nat the other side of the mountains, wished him to come to him, and\nlearn how to make his way in the world; his grandfather approved of\nthis, and let him go.\n\nRudy therefore said good-by. He had to take leave of others beside his\ngrandfather; and the first of these was his old dog, Ajola.\n\n\"When your father was postilion, I was his post-dog,\" said Ajola. \"We\ntraveled backwards and forwards together; and I know some dogs at the\nother side of the mountains and some of the people. I was never a\nchatterer, but now that we are not likely to have many more chances of\ntalking, I want to tell you a few things, I will tell you something I\nhave had in my head and thought over for a long time. I can't make it\nout, and you won't make it out; but that doesn't matter. At least I\ncan see that things are not fairly divided in this world, whether for\ndogs or for men. Only a few are privileged to sit in a lady's lap and\nhave milk to drink. I've never been used to it myself, but I've seen a\nlittle lap-dog riding in the coach, and occupying the place of a\npassenger. The lady to whom it belonged, or who belonged to it, took a\nbottle of milk with her for the dog to drink; and she offered him\nsweets, but he sniffed at them and refused them, so she ate them\nherself. I had to run in the mud beside the coach, and was very\nhungry, thinking all the time that this couldn't be right; but they\nsay that there are a great many things that aren't right. Would you\nlike to sit in a lady's lap and ride in a carriage? I wish you could.\nBut you can't arrange that for yourself. I never could, bark and howl\nas I might!\"\n\nThis is what Ajola said; and Rudy put his arms round him, and kissed\nhis cold, wet nose. Then he took up the cat, but puss tried to get\naway, and said,--\n\n\"You're too strong! and I don't want to scratch you. Climb over the\nmountains, as I taught you. Don't fancy you can fall, and then you\nwill always keep firm hold.\" As he said this, the cat ran away; for he\ndid not wish Rudy to see that he was crying.\n\nThe fowls strutted about the room. One of them had lost its tail\nfeathers. A tourist, who imagined he was a sportsman, had shot its\ntail off, as he thought it was a wild bird.\n\n\"Rudy is going away over the mountains,\" said one of the fowls.\n\nThe other one replied, \"He's in too great a hurry; I don't want to say\ngood-by.\" And then they both made off.\n\nHe then said good-by to the goats; they bleated \"Med! med! may!\" and\nthat made him feel sad.\n\nTwo neighboring guides, who wanted to cross the mountains to beyond\nthe Gemmi took Rudy with them, going on foot. It was a fatiguing walk\nfor such a little boy; but he was strong, and never feared anything.\n\nThe swallows flew part of the way with them. \"We and you! and you and\nwe!\" they sang. Their route lay across the roaring L\u00fctschine, which\nflows in many little streams from the Grindel glacier, and some fallen\ntrees served for a bridge. When they gained the forest at the other\nside, they began to mount the slope where the glacier had quitted the\nmountain, and then they had to climb over or make their way round the\nblocks of ice on the glacier. Rudy sometimes was obliged to crawl\ninstead of walking; but his eyes sparkled with pleasure, and he\nplanted his feet so firmly that you would think he wanted to leave the\nmark of his spiked shoes behind him at every step. The dark earth\nwhich the mountain torrent had scattered over the glacier made it look\nalmost black, but still you could catch sight of the bluish-green ice.\nThey had to skirt the countless little pools which lay amongst the\nhuge blocks of ice; and sometimes they passed by a great stone that\nhad rested at the edge of a cleft, and then the stone would be upset,\nand crash down into the crevasse, and the echoes would reverberate\nfrom all the deep clefts in the glacier.\n\nSo they went on climbing. The mighty glacier seemed like a great river\nfrozen into ice, hemmed in by the steep rocks. Rudy remembered what he\nhad been told, of how he and his mother had been pulled up out of one\nof those, deep, cold crevasses; but he soon thought no more of it, and\nit seemed no more than many other stories which he had been told.\nOccasionally, when the men thought the path too rough for the boy,\nthey offered him a hand; but he was not easily tired, and stood on the\nice as securely as a chamois. Now they got on rock, and clambered over\nthe rough stones; then they would have to walk through the pine-trees,\nor over pasture-lands, whilst the landscape was constantly changing.\nAround them were the great snow mountains--the Jungfrau, the M\u00f6nch and\nthe Eiger. Every child knew their names, and, of course, Rudy knew\nthem. Rudy had never before been up so high; he had never walked over\nthe wide snow-fields: like the ocean with its waves immovable, the\nwind now and again blowing off some of the snow as if it were the foam\nof the sea. The glaciers meet here as if they were joining hands; each\nforms one of the palaces of the Ice-Maiden, whose power and aim is to\ncapture and overwhelm. The sunshine was hot, the snow was brilliantly\nwhite, and seemed to sparkle as if covered with diamonds. Countless\ninsects, most of them butterflies or bees, were lying dead on the\nsnow; they had gone up too high, or been carried by the wind, and had\nbeen frozen to death. A threatening cloud hung over the Wetterhorn,\nlooking like a bundle of black wool; it hung down, heavy with its own\nweight, ready to burst with the resistless force of a whirlwind. The\nrecollection of this whole journey--the encamping for the night, at\nsuch a height, the walk in the dark, the deep clefts in the rock, worn\naway by the force of water during countless years--all this was fixed\nin Rudy's memory.\n\nAn empty stone hut beyond the _mer de glace_ gave them shelter for the\nnight. Here they found pine branches for fuel, and they quickly made\na fire and arranged the bed as comfortably as they could. They then\nseated themselves about the fire, lighted their pipes, and drank the\nhot drink which they had prepared. They gave Rudy some of their\nsupper, and then began to tell tales and legends of the spirits of the\nAlps; of the mighty serpents that lay coiled in the lakes; of the\nspirits who were reported to have carried men in their sleep to the\nmarvelous floating city, Venice; of the mysterious shepherd, who\ntended his black sheep on the mountain pastures, and how no one had\nseen him, although many had heard the tones of his bell and the\nbleating of his flock. Rudy listened to all this, though he was not\nfrightened, as he did not know what fear was; and as he was listening\nhe thought he heard the weird bleating; it grew more and more distinct\ntill the men heard it too, and left off talking to listen, and told\nRudy to keep awake.\n\nThis was the F\u00f6hn, the blast, the terrible tempest, which sweeps down\nfrom the mountains upon the valleys, rending the trees as if they\nwere reeds, and sweeping away the houses by a flood as easily as one\nmoves chessmen.\n\n[Illustration: They then seated themselves about the fire, and began\nto tell tales of the spirits of the Alps.]\n\nAfter a time they said to Rudy that it was all over, and he might go\nto sleep; and he was so tired with his long tramp that he obeyed at\nonce.\n\nWhen day broke, they pushed forward. The sun now shone for Rudy on new\nmountains, new glaciers, and snow-fields. They were now in the canton\nof Vallais, and had crossed the range which could be seen from\nGrindelwald, but were yet far from his new home. Other ravines, other\npastures, woods, and mountain-paths now came into sight, other houses,\nand other people; but they were strange and deformed-looking beings,\nwith pale faces, and huge wens hanging from their necks. They were\n_cr\u00e9tins_, feebly moving about, and looking listlessly at Rudy and his\ncompanions--the women were particularly repulsive to look at. Should\nhe find such people in his new home?\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nUNCLE.\n\n\nRudy had now come to his uncle's house, and found to his relief that\nthe people were like those he had been used to. There was only one\n_cr\u00e9tin_, a poor silly boy--one of those who rove from one house to\nanother in the canton of Vallais, staying a month or two in each\nhouse, and the unfortunate Saperli was there when Rudy came.\n\nUncle was a great hunter, and also knew the cooper's trade. His wife\nwas a lively little person, and almost looked like a bird; her eyes\nwere like those of an eagle, and her long neck was quite downy.\n\nRudy found everything new to him--dress, habits and customs, and\nlanguage, though he would soon get used to that. They seemed more\ncomfortably off than in his grandfather's house. The rooms were large,\nand the walls were decorated with chamois' horns and polished guns,\nand there was a picture of the Virgin over the door; fresh Alpine\nroses and a burning lamp stood before it.\n\nUncle was, as I have said, one of the most successful chamois-hunters\nin the neighborhood, and also one of the best guides. Rudy soon became\nthe pet of the household. They had one pet already, an old hound,\nblind and deaf; he was no longer able to go out hunting, but they took\ncare of him in return for his former services. Rudy patted the dog,\nand wished to make friends; but he did not care to make friends with\nstrangers, though Rudy was not long a stranger there.\n\n\"We live very well here in the canton of Vallais,\" said uncle; \"we\nhave chamois, who are not so easily killed as the steinbock, but we\nget on better than in the old days. It is all very well to praise\nformer times, but we are better off now. An opening has been made, and\nthe air blows through our secluded vale. We always get something\nbetter when the old thing is done with,\" said he; for uncle had much\nto say, and would tell tales of his childhood, and of the days when\nhis father was vigorous, when Vallais was, as he said, a closed bag,\nfull of sick folk and unfortunate _cr\u00e9tins_; \"but the French soldiers\ncame, and they were the right sort of doctors, for they killed both\nthe disease and the persons who had it. The French knew all about\nfighting; they struck their blows in many ways, and their maidens\ncould strike too!\" and here uncle nodded at his wife, who was a\nFrenchwoman. \"The French struck at our stones in fine style! They\nstruck the Simplon road through the rocks; they struck the road, so\nthat I may say to a child of three years old, 'Go to Italy, keep right\non the highway!' and the child will find himself in Italy if he only\nkeeps right on the road!\" and then uncle sang a French song, \"Hurrah\nfor Napoleon Buonaparte!\"\n\n[Illustration: His uncle would tell tales of his childhood.]\n\nRudy now heard for the first time of France, and of Lyons, a great\ntown on the river Rhone, where his uncle had been.\n\nIn a few years Rudy was to become an active chamois-hunter. His uncle\nsaid he was capable of it; he therefore taught him to handle a gun and\nto shoot. In the hunting season he took him to the mountains, and made\nhim drink the warm blood from the chamois, which keeps a hunter from\ngiddiness. He taught him to know the seasons when avalanches would\nroll down the mountain sides, at midday or in the afternoon, according\nto whether the sun had been strong on the places. He taught him to\nwatch how the chamois sprang, and notice how his feet fell that he\nmight stand firm; and that where he could obtain no foothold he must\ncatch hold with his elbows, grasp with his muscles, and hold with his\nthighs and knees--that he might even hold with his neck if necessary.\nThe chamois were very wary,--they would send one to look out; but the\nhunter must be still more wary,--put them off the scent. He had known\nthem so stupid that if he hung his coat and hat on an alpenstock, the\nchamois took the coat for a man. Uncle played his trick one day when\nhe and Rudy were out hunting.\n\nThe mountain paths were narrow; they were often a mere cornice or\nledge projecting over a giddy precipice. The snow was half melted, and\nthe rock crumbled beneath the feet; so the uncle laid himself down at\nfull length and crept along. Each stone, as it broke off, fell,\nstriking and rolling from ledge to ledge till it was out of sight.\nRudy stood about a hundred paces from his uncle on a projecting rock,\nand from this point he saw a great bearded vulture swooping over his\nuncle, whom it seemed to be about to strike over the precipice with\nits wings, to make him its prey. Uncle had his eye on the chamois,\nwhich he could see with its kid on the other side of the ravine; Rudy\nkept his eye on the bird, knew what it would do, and had his hands on\nhis gun ready to fire; the chamois suddenly sprang up, uncle fired,\nthe animal fell dead, the kid made off as if it was used to dangers.\nAt the sound of the gun the bird flew away, and uncle knew nothing of\nhis danger until told of it by Rudy.\n\n[Illustration: \"Hold fast, Rudy!\" shouted his uncle, and Rudy clung to\nthe tree.]\n\nAs they were going home in the best of humors, uncle whistling one of\nhis songs, they suddenly heard a strange noise not far off; they\nlooked round them, and saw that the snow on the side of the mountain\nwas all in motion. It waved up and down, broke into pieces, and came\ndown with a roar like thunder. It was an avalanche, not over Rudy and\nuncle, but near, too near, to them.\n\n\"Hold fast, Rudy!\" he shouted; \"fast, with all your power!\"\n\nAnd Rudy clung to the stem of a tree; uncle climbed above him up to\nthe branches and held fast, while the avalanche rolled past at a\ndistance of a few yards; but the rush of air broke the trees and\nbushes all around like reeds, and cast the fragments down, and left\nRudy pressed to the earth. The tree-stem to which he had held was\nbroken, and the top flung to a distance; there, among the broken\nbranches, lay uncle, his head crushed; his hand was still warm, but\nyou would not know his face. Rudy stood pale and trembling; it was the\nfirst shock in his life, the first time he had felt horror.\n\nIt was late when he brought the tidings of death to what was now a\nsorrowful home. The wife was speechless and tearless until they\nbrought the body home, then her grief broke forth. The unfortunate\n_cr\u00e9tin_ hid himself in his bed, nor did they see him all the next\nday; but in the evening he came to Rudy.\n\n\"Write a letter for me! Saperli cannot write! Saperli can go with the\nletter to the post!\"\n\n\"A letter from thee?\" exclaimed Rudy. \"And to whom?\"\n\n\"To the Lord Christ!\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\"\n\nAnd the half-idiot, as they called the _cr\u00e9tin_, cast a pathetic\nglance at Rudy, folded his hands, and said solemnly and slowly:\n\n\"Jesus Christ! Saperli wishes to send a letter to ask Him that Saperli\nmay lie dead, and not the man in this house.\"\n\nAnd Rudy took him by the hand. \"That letter would not go there! that\nletter would not bring him back.\"\n\nBut it was impossible for Rudy to make him understand.\n\n\"Now thou art the support of the house,\" said the widow, and Rudy\nbecame so.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nBABETTE.\n\n\nWho is the best shot in the canton of Vallais? Even the chamois knew.\n\"Take care of Rudy's shooting!\" they said. \"Who is the handsomest\nhuntsman?\" \"Rudy is!\" said the maidens, but they did not say, \"Take\ncare of Rudy's shooting!\" nor did their serious mothers say so either;\nhe nodded to them as lightly as he did to a young girl; for he was\nbrave and joyous, his cheeks were brown, his teeth sound and white,\nand his eyes coal-black and sparkling; he was a handsome fellow, and\nnot more than twenty. The ice-cold water did not hurt him in swimming;\nhe swam like a fish, could climb better than any other man, could hold\nfast like a snail to the walls of rock, for his muscles and sinews\nwere good; and you saw when he leapt that he had taken lessons from\nthe cat and from the chamois. Rudy was the surest guide to depend\non, and might have made his fortune in that way; his uncle had also\ntaught him coopering, but he gave little thought to that, for his\npleasure and delight was in shooting the chamois; and in this way he\nearned money. Rudy was a good match, as they say, if he did not look\nabove his own position. And he was a dancer among dancers, so that the\nmaidens dreamt of him, and some of them even thought of him when\nwaking.\n\n[Illustration: \"Rudy gave me a kiss at the dance!\" said Annette to her\ndearest friend.]\n\n\"He gave me a kiss at the dance!\" said Annette, the schoolmaster's\ndaughter, to her dearest friend; but she ought not to have said that\neven to her dearest friend. Such a secret is not easy to keep: it is\nlike sand in a bag full of holes, it will run out; and they all soon\nknew that Rudy had given her a kiss at the dance, though he had not\nkissed the one that he wanted to kiss.\n\n\"Just watch him!\" said an old huntsman; \"he has kissed Annette; he has\nbegun with A and he will kiss all through the alphabet.\"\n\nA kiss at the dance was all that the gossips could say against Rudy so\nfar; but although he had kissed Annette, she was not the flower of his\nheart.\n\nDown at Bex, among the great walnut-trees, close to a little rapid\nmountain stream, there lived a rich miller; his dwelling-house was a\nbig building of three floors, with small turrets, roofed with shingle\nand ornamented with metal plates which shone in the rays of the sun or\nthe moon; the biggest turret had for a weather-cock a glittering arrow\nwhich had transfixed an apple, in memory of Tell's marksmanship. The\nmill appeared fine and prosperous, and one could both sketch and\ndescribe it, but one could not sketch or describe the miller's\ndaughter; at least, Rudy says one could not, and yet he had her image\nin his heart. Her eyes had so beamed upon him that they had quite\nkindled a flame; this had come quite suddenly, as other fires come,\nand the strangest thing was, that the miller's daughter, the charming\nBabette, had no thought of it, as she and Rudy had never spoken to\neach other.\n\nThe miller was rich, and his riches made Babette hard to approach;\n\"But nothing is so high,\" said Rudy to himself, \"that a man can't get\nup to it; a man must climb, and he need not fall, nor lose faith in\nhimself.\" This lesson he had learnt at home.\n\nIt happened one day that Rudy had business at Bex, and it was quite a\njourney, for the railway did not then go there. From the Rhone\nglacier, at the foot of the Simplon, between many and various\nmountain-heights, stretches the broad valley of the Rhone, whose flood\noften overflows its banks, overwhelming everything. Between the towns\nof Sion and St. Maurice the valley bends in the shape of an elbow, and\nbelow St. Maurice it is so narrow that it hardly allows room for more\nthan the river itself and a narrow road. An old tower stands here on\nthe mountain side, as a sentry to mark the boundary of the canton of\nVallais, opposite the stone bridge by the toll-house; and here begins\nthe canton Vaud, not far from the town of Bex. As you advance you\nnotice the increase of fertility, you seem to have come into a garden\nof chestnuts and walnut-trees; here and there are cypresses and\npomegranates in flower; there is a southern warmth, as if you had come\ninto Italy.\n\nRudy arrived at Bex, finished his business, and looked about him; but\nnever a lad from the mill, not to mention Babette, could he see. This\nwas not what he wished.\n\nIt was now towards evening; the air was full of the scent of the wild\nthyme and of the flowers of the limes; a shining veil seemed to hang\nover the wooded mountains, with a stillness, not of sleep, nor of\ndeath, but rather as if nature were holding its breath, in order to\nhave its likeness photographed on the blue vault of heaven. Here and\nthere between the trees, and across the green fields stood poles, to\nsupport the telegraph wires already carried through that tranquil\nvalley; by one of these leaned an object, so still that it might have\nbeen mistaken for a tree-stump, but it was Rudy, who was as still and\nquiet as everything about him; he was not asleep, and he certainly was\nnot dead. But thoughts were rushing through his brain, thoughts\nmighty and overwhelming, which were to mold his future.\n\nHis eyes were directed to one point amidst the leaves, one light in\nthe miller's parlor where Babette lived. So still was Rudy standing,\nthat you might believe he was taking aim at a chamois, for the chamois\nwill sometimes stand for an instant as if a part of the rock, and then\nsuddenly, startled by the rolling of a stone, will spring away; and so\nit was with Rudy--a sudden thought startled him.\n\n\"Never give up!\" he cried. \"Call at the mill! Good evening to the\nmiller, good day to Babette. A man doesn't fall when he doesn't think\nabout it; Babette must see me at some time if I am ever to be her\nhusband.\"\n\nRudy laughed, for he was of good cheer, and he went to the mill; he\nknew well enough what he wished for--he wished for Babette.\n\nThe river, with its yellowish water, rushed along, and the willows and\nlimes overhung its banks; Rudy went up the path, and as it says in the\nold children's song:\n\n    \"to the miller's house,\n    But found no one at home\n    Except little Puss!\"\n\nThe parlor cat stood on the steps, put up his back, and said \"Miou!\"\nbut Rudy had no thought for that speech; he knocked at the door; no\none heard, no one opened it. \"Miou!\" said the cat. If Rudy had been\nlittle, he would have understood animals' language, and known that the\ncat said: \"There's no one at home!\" So he went over to the mill to\nask, and there he got the information. The master had gone on a\njourney, as far as the town of Interlaken \"_inter lac\u016bs_, between\nthe lakes,\" as the schoolmaster, Annette's father, had explained it in\na lesson. The miller was far away, and Babette with him; there was a\ngrand shooting competition--it began to-morrow, and went on for eight\ndays. Switzers from all the German cantons would be there.\n\nUnlucky Rudy, you might say, this was not a fortunate time to come to\nBex; so he turned and marched above St. Maurice and Sion to his own\nvalley and his own mountains; but he was not disheartened. The sun\nrose next morning, but his spirits were already high, for they had\nnever set.\n\n[Illustration: The cat stood on the steps, put up his back and said,\n\"Miou!\" as Rudy knocked at the door.]\n\n\"Babette is at Interlaken, many days' journey from hence,\" he said to\nhimself. \"It is a long way there if one goes by the high road, but it\nis not so far if you strike across the mountains, as I have often done\nin chamois-hunting. There is my old home, where I lived when little\nwith my grandfather; and the shooting-match is at Interlaken! I will\nbe the best of them; and I will be with Babette, when I have made\nacquaintance with her.\"\n\nWith his light knapsack, containing his Sunday suit and his gun and\ngame-bag, Rudy went up the mountain by the short way, which was,\nhowever, pretty long; but the shooting-match only began that day and\nwas to last over a week, and all that time, he was told, the miller\nand Babette would spend with their relations at Interlaken. So Rudy\ncrossed the Gemmi, meaning to come down near Grindelwald.\n\nHealthy and joyful, he stepped along, up in the fresh, the light, the\ninvigorating mountain air. The valley sank deeper, the horizon opened\nwider; here was a snow-peak, and there another, and soon he could see\nthe whole shining range of the Alps. Rudy knew every snow-mountain,\nand he made straight for the Schreckhorn, which raised its\nwhite-sprinkled, stony fingers high into the blue air.\n\nAt length he crossed the highest ridge. The pastures stretched down\ntowards his own valley; the air was light, and he felt merry; mountain\nand valley smiled with abundance of flowers and verdure; his heart was\nfull of thoughts of youth: one should never become old, one need never\ndie; to live, to conquer, to be happy! free as a bird--and he felt\nlike a bird. And the swallows flew by him, and sang, as they used to\ndo in his childhood: \"We and you, and you and we!\" All was soaring and\nrejoicing.\n\nBelow lay the velvety green meadow, sprinkled with brown ch\u00e2lets, and\nthe L\u00fctschine humming and rushing. He saw the glacier, with its\nbottle-green edges covered with earth-soiled snow; he saw the deep\nfissures, and the upper and the lower glacier. The sound of the\nchurch bells came to him, as if they were ringing to welcome him home;\nhis heart beat more strongly, and swelled so that Babette was\nforgotten for a moment, so large was his heart and so full of\nmemories!\n\nHe again went along the way where he had stood as a little urchin with\nthe other children, and sold the carved ch\u00e2lets. He saw among the\npines his grandfather's house, but strangers now lived in it. Children\ncame along the path to sell things, and one of them offered him an\nAlpine rose; Rudy took it as a good omen, and he thought of Babette.\nHe soon crossed the bridge where the two L\u00fctschine unite; the trees\nhere grew thicker, and the walnuts gave a refreshing shade. He now saw\nthe flag waving, the white cross on a red background, the flag of the\nSwitzers and the Danes; and now he had reached Interlaken.\n\nThis, Rudy thought, was certainly a splendid town. It was a Swiss town\nin Sunday dress; not like other places, crowded with heavy stone\nhouses, ponderous, strange, and stately. No! here it seemed as if the\nch\u00e2lets had come down from the mountains into the green valley, close\nby the clear, rapid stream, and had arranged themselves in a row, a\nlittle in and out, to make a street. And the prettiest of all the\nstreets--yes, that it certainly was!--had sprung up since Rudy was\nhere, when he was little. It seemed to have been built of all the\ncharming ch\u00e2lets which his grandfather had carved and stored in the\ncabinet at home, and they had grown up here by some power like the\nold, oldest chestnut-trees. Each house was a hotel, with carved\nwoodwork on the windows and doors, and a projecting roof, and was\nelegantly built; and in front of the house was a flower-garden,\nbetween it and the broad, macadamized road; all the houses stood on\none side of the road, so as not to hide the fresh green meadows, where\nthe cows wandered about with bells like those in the high Alpine\npastures. It seemed to be in the midst of lofty mountains, which had\ndrawn apart in one direction to allow the snow-clad peak of the\nJungfrau to be seen, most lovely of all the Swiss mountains.\n\nThere were a great many well-dressed visitors from foreign countries\nas well as many Switzers from the different cantons. Each competitor\nhad his number in a garland on his hat. Singing and playing on all\nkinds of instruments were to be heard everywhere, mingled with cries\nand shouts. Mottoes were put up on the houses and bridges, flags and\npennons floated in the breeze; the crack of the rifles was frequently\nheard, and Rudy thought this the sweetest sound of all; indeed, in the\nexcitement of the moment he quite forgot Babette, although he had come\non purpose to meet her.\n\nThe marksmen now went in the direction of the target. Rudy went with\nthem, and was the best shot of them all--he hit the bull's-eye every\ntime.\n\n\"Who is that young stranger who shoots so well?\" the onlookers asked\neach other. \"He talks French as they do in canton Vallais. But he also\nspeaks German very well,\" others replied.\n\n\"They say he was brought up near Grindelwald,\" one of the competitors\nremarked.\n\nThere was life in the fellow, his eyes shone, his arm was steady, and\nfor that reason he never failed in hitting the mark. Courage comes\nwith success, but Rudy had a store of natural courage. Admiring\nfriends soon gathered around him, and complimented him on his success;\nhe altogether forgot Babette. Then some one laid his hand on his\nshoulder, and spoke to him in French.\n\n\"You belong to the canton of Vallais?\"\n\nRudy turned, and saw a burly individual with a rosy, good-humored\nface. It was the wealthy miller from Bex; his stout form almost\nconcealed the pretty, slim Babette, but she looked at Rudy with her\nsparkling, dark eyes. The miller was glad that a rifleman from his own\ncanton should prove the best shot, and should have won universal\napplause. Rudy was certainly in luck, for although he had forgotten\nhis principal object in coming, she had now come forward to him.\n\nWhen neighbors meet one another at a distance from home they generally\nget to talking, and make each other's acquaintance. Because Rudy was\na good shot he had become a leader at the rifle competition, just as\nmuch as the miller was at Bex, because of his wealth and his good\nbusiness; so they clasped each other by the hand for the first time;\nBabette also offered her hand to Rudy who squeezed it, and looked at\nher so earnestly that she quite blushed.\n\nThe miller spoke of their long journey, and how many large towns they\nhad come through; and it certainly seemed to have been a very long\njourney, as they had traveled by the steamboat, and also by rail and\nby post-chaise.\n\n\"I came the nearest way,\" said Rudy. \"I walked over the mountains; no\nroad is too high for a man to come over it.\"\n\n\"And break your neck,\" said the miller. \"You look just the man to\nbreak his neck one day, you look so headstrong.\"\n\n\"A man doesn't fall if he doesn't think about it,\" replied Rudy.\n\nThe miller's relatives in Interlaken, with whom he and Babette were\nstaying, asked Rudy to visit them, as he was from the same canton.\nThis was a chance for Rudy; fortune favored him, as she always does\nfavor those who endeavor to succeed by their own energy, and remember\nthat \"Providence gives us nuts, but we have to crack them for\nourselves.\"\n\nRudy was welcomed by the miller's relatives as if he had belonged to\nthe family, and they drank to the health of the best shot, and Babette\nclinked her glass with the others, and Rudy thanked them for the\ntoast.\n\nIn the evening they went for a stroll on the road by the big hotels\nbeneath the old walnut-trees, and there was such a throng, and the\npeople pushed so that Rudy was able to offer his arm to Babette. He\nsaid he was glad to have met the people from Vaud. The cantons of Vaud\nand Vallais were very good neighbors. He seemed so thoroughly pleased\nthat Babette could not resist the inclination to press his hand. They\nwalked together just like old acquaintances, and she was very amusing.\nRudy was delighted with her naive remarks on the peculiarities in the\ndress and behavior of the foreign ladies; and yet she did not wish to\nmake fun of them, for she knew that many of them were amiable and\nworthy people--indeed, her own godmother was an English lady. She had\nbeen living in Bex eighteen years ago, when Babette was christened,\nand she had given her the valuable brooch she was now wearing. Her\ngodmother had twice written to her, and Babette was now hoping to see\nher and her daughters in Interlaken.\n\n\"They were two old maids, almost thirty!\" said Babette; but you must\nremember that she was only eighteen.\n\nHer little tongue was never still for an instant, and all that Babette\nhad to say was intensely interesting to Rudy; and he told her all\nabout himself--that he had frequently been to Bex, and knew the mill\nwell, and that he had often seen her, though he did not suppose she\nhad ever noticed him; and how he had called at the mill, hoping to see\nher, and found that her father and she were away from home, a long way\nfrom home, indeed, but not so far that he could not get over the\nbarrier which divided them.\n\nHe told her a great deal more than this. He told her that he was very\nfond of her, and that he had come here on purpose to see her, and not\nfor the rifle competition.\n\nBabette was very quiet when he told her this; she thought he set too\nhigh a value on her.\n\nWhile they continued rambling, the sun set behind the mighty wall of\nrock; the Jungfrau stood out in all its beauty and magnificence, with\nthe green of the tree-clad slopes on either side of it. All stood\nstill to admire the gorgeous spectacle, and both Rudy and Babette were\nhappy in watching it.\n\n\"There is no place more lovely than this!\" said Babette.\n\n\"No, indeed!\" exclaimed Rudy, and then he looked at Babette.\n\n\"I must go home to-morrow,\" he said, after a short silence.\n\n\"You must come to see us at Bex,\" Babette whispered to him; \"my father\nwill be pleased.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nTHE RETURN HOME.\n\n\nOh what a load Rudy had to carry home with him over the mountains the\nnext day! He had won three silver cups, two rifles, and a silver\ncoffee-pot; this would be of use to him when he began housekeeping.\nBut that was not the heaviest thing; there was something heavier and\nstronger which he carried with him--or which carried him--on that\nreturn journey over the mountains. The weather was wild, dull, heavy,\nand wet; dense clouds covered the mountain tops like a thick veil,\nquite hiding the snowy peaks. From the valleys he heard the sound of\nthe woodman's ax, and huge trunks of trees rolled down the steep\nmountain sides; they seemed only like small sticks, but they were big\nenough for masts. The L\u00fctschine rushed along with its continual hum,\nthe wind shrieked, and the clouds hurried across the sky. Then Rudy\ndiscovered that a young maid was walking at his side; he had not seen\nher until she was quite near. She also was about to climb over the\nmountain. The girl's eyes had a strange power; you could not help\nlooking at them, and they were wonderful eyes, very clear, and\ndeep--oh, so deep!\n\n\"Have you a sweetheart?\" said Rudy, for that was all he could think\nof.\n\n\"No, I have not,\" laughingly replied the maiden; but she did not look\nas if she spoke the truth. \"Don't go round all that way,\" she then\nsaid. \"You must bear more to the left; that is the shortest way.\"\n\n\"Yes, and tumble down a crevasse!\" said Rudy. \"You're a fine one to be\na guide if you don't know better than that!\"\n\n\"I know the way,\" she replied, \"and my thoughts have not gone astray.\nYours are below, in the valley, but here, on high, you should be\nthinking of the Ice-Maiden; people say that she does not love men.\"\n\n\"I fear her not!\" exclaimed Rudy. \"She had to yield me up when I was a\nbaby, and I am not going to yield myself up to her now that I am a\nman.\"\n\nIt grew darker, and the rain poured down; then came the snow,\ndazzling and bewildering.\n\n\"Take my hand,\" said the maiden, \"I will help you;\" and she touched\nhim with her ice-cold fingers.\n\n[Illustration: \"Have you a sweetheart?\" said Rudy.]\n\n\"You needn't help me!\" returned Rudy; \"I don't need a girl to teach me\nto climb!\" and he hurried on, leaving her behind. The snow came down\nall around him, the wind shrieked, and he heard strange sounds of\nlaughing and singing behind him. He believed she was one of the\nspirits in the Ice-Maiden's train, of whom he had heard tales when he\nspent the night up in the mountains as a boy.\n\nThe snow ceased to fall, and he was now above the clouds. He looked\nbehind him, but saw nobody; yet he heard a strange singing and\nyodeling that he did not like, as it did not sound human.\n\nWhen Rudy was quite at the highest ridge, from which the way tended\ndownwards towards the Rhone valley, he saw above Chamonix, in a patch\nof blue sky, two bright stars shining and twinkling; they reminded him\nof Babette, and of his own good fortune, and the thought made him feel\nquite warm.\n\n[Illustration: Rudy believed she was one of the spirits in the\nIce-Maiden's train.]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nA VISIT TO THE MILL.\n\n\n\"What splendid things you have brought back with you!\" cried his old\nfoster-mother; and her eagle eyes sparkled, and her lean neck waved\nbackwards and forwards more than ever. \"You are lucky, Rudy! Let me\nkiss you, my dear boy!\"\n\nAnd Rudy submitted to be kissed; but he looked as if he regarded it as\na thing which had to be put up with. \"What a handsome fellow you are\ngetting, Rudy!\" said the old woman.\n\n\"Don't talk such nonsense,\" Rudy replied, laughing; but nevertheless\nhe liked to hear it.\n\n\"I say it again,\" said the old woman. \"You are very lucky!\"\n\n\"Perhaps you may be right,\" he rejoined, for he was thinking of\nBabette.\n\nHe had never before been so anxious to go down the valley.\n\n\"They must have gone home,\" he said to himself. \"They were to have\nbeen back two days ago. I must go to Bex.\"\n\nSo Rudy went to Bex, and found his friends at home at the mill. They\nreceived him kindly, and had brought a message for him from the family\nat Interlaken. Babette did not speak much; she was very quiet, but her\neyes spoke volumes, and that satisfied Rudy. Even the miller, who had\nalways led the conversation, and who had always had his remarks and\njokes laughed at on account of his wealth, seemed to delight in\nhearing of all Rudy's adventures in his hunting; and Rudy described\nthe difficulties and perils which the chamois-hunters have to face\namong the mountains--how they must cling to, or creep over, the narrow\nledges of snow which are frozen on to the mountain sides, and make\ntheir way over the snow bridges which span deep chasms in the rocks.\nAnd Rudy's eyes sparkled as he was relating these hunting adventures,\nthe intelligence and activity of the chamois, and the dangers of the\ntempest and the avalanche. He perceived as he went on that the miller\ngrew increasingly interested in his wild life, and that the old man\npaid especial attention to his account of the bearded vulture and the\nroyal eagle.\n\nAmong other things, he happened to mention that, at no great distance,\nin the canton of Vallais, an eagle had built its nest most ingeniously\nunder a steep projecting rock, and that the nest contained a young one\nwhich nobody could capture. Rudy said that an Englishman had offered\nhim a handful of gold the other day if he could take him the eaglet\nalive; \"but there is a limit to everything,\" said he. \"That eaglet\ncannot be taken; it would be foolhardy to try.\"\n\nBut the wine assisted the flow of conversation; and Rudy thought the\nevening all too short, though he did not start on his return journey\nuntil past midnight, the first time he visited the mill.\n\nLights were still to be seen at the windows of the mill; and the\nparlor cat came out at an opening in the roof, and met the kitchen cat\non the gutter.\n\n\"Have you heard the news at the mill?\" said the parlor cat. \"There's\nlove-making going on in the house! The father doesn't know of it. Rudy\nand Babette have been treading on each other's paws all the evening\nunder the table. They trod on me more than once, but I kept quiet,\nlest it should be noticed.\"\n\n\"I would have mewed,\" replied the kitchen cat.\n\n\"Kitchen behavior will not suit the parlor,\" said the parlor cat; \"but\nI should like to know what the miller will say when he hears of the\nlove-making.\"\n\nWhat will the miller say, indeed? Rudy, also, wanted to know that; and\nhe would not wait very long without finding it out. So a few days\nlater, when the omnibus rolled over the Rhone bridge between Vallais\nand Vaud, Rudy was in it, in his usual high spirits, happy in the\nexpectation of a favorable answer to the question he intended to ask\nthat same evening.\n\nIn the evening, when the omnibus was returning Rudy was again inside;\nbut the parlor cat had great news to tell.\n\n\"Do you know it, you from the kitchen? The miller knows everything.\nThat was a fine end to the expedition! Rudy came here towards the\nevening, and he and Babette had much to whisper about; they stood in\nthe passage which leads to the miller's room. I lay at their feet, but\nthey had neither eyes nor thoughts for me. 'I am going straight in to\nyour father!' said Rudy; 'that is the fair thing.' 'Shall I accompany\nyou?' said Babette; 'it will encourage you.' 'I have sufficient\ncourage!' said Rudy, 'but if you go too, he must look kindly on us,\nwhether he will or no!' And they both went in. Rudy trod violently on\nmy tail. Rudy is very clumsy! I mewed, but neither he nor Babette had\nears to hear me. They opened the door, and they both went in, I in\nfront; but I sprang up on the back of a chair, for I could not tell\nhow Rudy would kick. But the miller kicked! and it was a good kick!\nout of the door, and into the mountains to the chamois! Rudy may aim\nat them, and not at our little Babette.\"\n\n\"But what did they talk about?\" asked the kitchen cat.\n\n\"Talk?---- They talked of everything that people say when they go\na-wooing: 'I am fond of her, and she is fond of me! and when there is\nmilk in the pail for one, there is also milk in the pail for two!'\n'But she sits too high for you!' said the miller; 'she sits on grits,\non golden grits; you can't reach her!' 'Nothing sits so high that a\nman can't reach it, if he will!' said Rudy; for he was very pert. 'But\nyou can't reach the eaglet--you said so yourself! Babette sits\nhigher!' 'I will take them both!' said Rudy. 'Yes, I will give her to\nyou, when you give me the eaglet alive!' said the miller, and laughed\ntill the tears stood in his eyes; 'but now I thank you for your\nvisits, Rudy; come again in the morning, and you will find no one at\nhome! Farewell, Rudy!' And Babette also said farewell, as miserable as\na little kitten that can't see its mother. 'An honest man's word is as\ngood as his bond!' said Rudy. 'Don't cry, Babette; I shall bring the\neaglet!' 'You will break your neck, I hope!' said the miller, 'and so\nput an end to your race!' I call _that_ a kick! Now Rudy is off, and\nBabette sits and cries, but the miller sings German songs that he\nhas learnt on his journey! I won't grieve over that now; it can't be\nhelped!\"\n\n\"But yet there is still some hope for him,\" said the kitchen cat.\n\n[Illustration: \"You are lucky, Rudy!\" said his foster-mother; \"let me\nkiss you, my dear boy!\"]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nTHE EAGLE'S NEST.\n\n\nFrom the mountain path sounds the yodeling, merry and strong, telling\nof good spirits and dauntless courage; it is Rudy--he is going to see\nhis friend Vesinaud.\n\n\"You will help me! we will take Ragli with us. I must capture the\neaglet up the face of the mountain!\"\n\n\"Won't you take the spots of the moon first; that is as easy!\" said\nVesinaud. \"You are in good spirits!\"\n\n\"Yes, for I am thinking of getting married! But now, to be in earnest,\nI will tell you what I am intending!\"\n\nAnd soon Vesinaud and Ragli knew what Rudy wished.\n\n\"You are a daring lad!\" said they. \"You will not get there! You will\nbreak your neck!\"\n\n\"A man does not fall down when he does not think of it!\" said Rudy.\n\nAt midnight they set off with poles, ladders, and ropes; the way was\nthrough thickets and bushes, and over rolling stones, always up, up in\nthe gloomy night. The water rushed below; the water murmured above,\nheavy clouds drove through the air. When the hunters reached the\nprecipitous face of the mountain it was still darker, the rocky walls\nwere almost met, and the sky could only be seen high up in a small\ncleft. Close by, under them, was the deep abyss with its rushing\nwaters. All three sat quite still, waiting for daybreak, when the\neagle would fly out; for they must first shoot it before they could\nthink of taking the young one. Rudy sat down, as still as if he were a\npiece of the stone he sat on. He had his gun in his hand ready to\nshoot; his eyes were fixed on the topmost cleft, where, under a\nprojecting ledge, the eagle's nest was concealed.\n\nAfter waiting long, the hunters heard high above them a cracking,\nrushing sound; and suddenly they saw a great, hovering object. Two\ngun-barrels were pointed as the great black figure of the eagle flew\nout of its nest. One shot was heard; for a moment the bird moved its\noutstretched wings, and then slowly fell, as if with its greatness and\nthe extension of its wings it would fill the whole of the chasm, and\ncarry the hunters with it in its fall. The eagle sank into the depths;\nand brushing against the branches of trees and bushes, broke them as\nit fell.\n\nAnd now the hunters began work. They tied three of the longest ladders\ntogether, setting them up from the last secure foothold at the side of\nthe precipice. But the ladders did not quite reach; the nest was\nhigher up, hidden safe below the projecting rock, where it was as\nsmooth as a wall. After some deliberation they decided to tie two\nladders together, and lower them into the cleft from above, and join\nthem to the three which had been set up from below. With great trouble\nthey drew up the two ladders and secured the rope; they were then\nsuspended over the projecting rock, and hung swinging over the abyss,\nand Rudy took his place on the lowest rung. It was an ice-cold\nmorning, and vapors rose from the black chasm. Rudy sat out there as a\nfly sits on a waving straw which some bird has taken to the top of\nsome high factory-chimney; but the fly can fly away if the straw gets\nloose, while Rudy can only break his neck. The wind whispered about\nhim, and below, in the abyss, rushed the hurrying water from the\nmelting glacier, the Ice-Maiden's palace.\n\nWhen Rudy began to climb, the ladders trembled and swung like a\nspider's web; but when he reached the fourth ladder he found it\nsecure, for the lashing had been well done. The topmost ladder was\nflattened against the rock, yet it swung ominously with Rudy's weight.\nAnd now came the most dangerous part of the climb. But Rudy knew this,\nfor the cat had taught him; he did not think about Giddiness, which\nhovered in the air behind him, and stretched its octopus-like arms\ntowards him. Now he stood on the highest rung of the ladder, and found\nthat after all it did not reach high enough for him to see into the\nnest; he could only reach up to it with his hands. He tested the\nfirmness of the thick plaited boughs that supported the lower part of\nthe nest, and when he found a thick and firm bough, he pulled himself\nup by it till he got his head and chest over the nest. But there\npoured upon him an overpowering smell of carrion; putrefying lambs,\nchamois, and birds lay here torn to pieces. Giddiness, which was not\nable to reach him, puffed the poisonous exhalation into his face, to\nconfuse him, and below, in the black gaping depth, over the hurrying\nwater, sat the Ice-Maiden herself, with her long greenish hair,\nstaring with deathly eyes like two gun-barrels, and saying to herself,\n\"Now I shall capture you!\"\n\n[Illustration: It was captured alive.]\n\nIn a corner of the nest he saw a large and powerful eaglet, which\ncould not yet fly. Rudy fastened his eyes on it, held himself with\nall the force of one hand, and cast, with the other hand, a noose over\nthe young bird. Thus, with its legs entangled in the line, it was\ncaptured alive. Rudy threw the noose with the bird in it over his\nshoulder, so that it hung a good way below him, and by the help of a\nrope he made himself fast till his toes reached the highest rung of\nthe ladder.\n\n\"Hold fast! don't believe you will fall, and you won't fall!\" this was\nhis old lesson, and he stuck to it; he held fast, he scrambled, he was\ncertain he should not fall, and he did not fall.\n\nAnd now was heard a yodel, so vigorous and joyful. Rudy stood on the\nfirm rock with his eaglet.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\n\"I HOLD FAST TO BABETTE.\"\n\n\n\"Here is what you demanded!\" said Rudy, entering the miller's house at\nBex; and, setting on the floor a large basket, he took off the cloth,\nand there glared from it two yellow, black-rimmed eyes, so sparkling,\nso wild, that they seemed to burn and devour everything they saw; the\nshort, strong beak gaped, ready to bite, the neck was red and downy.\n\n\"The eaglet!\" shouted the miller. Babette gave one scream, and sprang\naside, but she could not turn her eyes away from Rudy or the eaglet.\n\n\"You are not to be frightened!\" said the miller.\n\n\"And you always keep your word!\" said Rudy; \"each has his own\ncharacteristic!\"\n\n\"But how is it you did not break your neck?\" inquired the miller.\n\n\"Because I held fast!\" answered Rudy, \"and that I do still! I hold\nfast to Babette!\"\n\n\"First see that you have her!\" said the miller with a laugh; and that\nwas a good sign, Babette knew.\n\n\"Let us get the eaglet out of the basket; it looks dangerous. How it\nstares! How did you catch it?\"\n\nAnd Rudy had to tell them, and the miller stared, opening his eyes\nwider and wider.\n\n\"With your boldness and luck you can maintain three wives!\" said the\nmiller.\n\n\"Thank you! thank you!\" cried Rudy.\n\n\"Yes; still you have not got Babette!\" said the miller, and jestingly\nslapped the young hunter on the shoulder.\n\n\"Have you heard the news in the mill?\" said the parlor cat to the\nkitchen cat. \"Rudy has brought us the eaglet, and will take Babette in\nexchange. They have kissed each other and let father see it! That is\nas good as an engagement. The old man didn't kick; he drew in his\nclaws, and took his nap after dinner, and let the two sit and wag\ntheir tails. They have so much to say, they won't be finished before\nChristmas.\"\n\nNor had they finished before Christmas. The wind scattered the brown\nleaves, the snow drifted in the valley and on the high mountains. The\nIce-Maiden sat in her noble palace, which grows in the winter; the\nrocky walls were coated with ice, there were icicles ponderous as\nelephants where in the summer the mountain-torrent poured its watery\ndeluge; ice-garlands of fantastic ice-crystals glittered on the\nsnow-powdered fir-trees. The Ice-Maiden rode on the whistling wind\nacross the deepest valleys. The snow carpet was spread quite down to\nBex, and she could come there and see Rudy within doors, more than he\nwas accustomed to, for he sat with Babette. The marriage was to take\nplace towards the summer; he often had a ringing in his ears, so\nfrequently did his friends talk of it. There was summer, glowing with\nthe most beautiful Alpine roses, the merry, laughing Babette,\nbeautiful as spring, the spring that makes all the birds sing of\nsummer and of weddings.\n\n[Illustration: Rudy and Babette.]\n\n\"How can those two sit and hang over each other?\" said the parlor cat.\n\"I am now quite tired of their mewing!\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\nTHE ICE-MAIDEN.\n\n\nThe walnuts and chestnut-trees, all hung with the green garlands of\nspring, spread from the bridge at St. Maurice to the margin of the\nLake of Geneva along the Rhone, which with violent speed rushes from\nits source under the green glacier--the ice palace, where the\nIce-Maiden lives, whence she flies on the wind to the highest\nsnow-field, and there, in the strong sunlight, stretches herself on\nher drifting bed. And as she sits there she looks with far-seeing\nglance into the deepest valleys, where men, like ants on a sunlit\nstone, busily move about.\n\n\"Powerful Spirits, as the Children of the Sun call you!\" said the\nIce-Maiden, \"you are creeping things! with a rolling snowball both you\nand your houses and towns are crushed and effaced!\" And she raised her\nproud head higher, and looked about her and deep down with deathly\neyes. But from the valley was heard a rumbling, blasting of the rocks;\nmen were at work; roads and tunnels were being made for railways.\n\n\"They play like moles!\" said she; \"they are digging passages,\ntherefore I hear sounds like musket-shots. When I move my castle the\nsound is louder than the rolling of thunder.\"\n\nFrom the valley arose a smoke, which moved onward like a flickering\nveil; it was the flying plume from a locomotive, which was drawing a\ntrain on the recently opened railway, the winding serpent, whose\njoints are the carriages.\n\n\"They play at masters down below, the Powerful Spirits!\" said the\nIce-Maiden. \"Yet the powers of nature are mightier!\" and she laughed\nand sang, and the valleys resounded.\n\n\"Now there is an avalanche rolling!\" said the men below.\n\nBut the Children of the Sun sang yet higher of human ideas, the\npowerful means which subdue the sea, remove mountains, fill up\nvalleys; human ideas, they are the lords of the powers of nature. At\nthe same moment there came over the snow-field, where the Ice-Maiden\nsat, a party of mountain climbers; they had bound themselves to one\nanother with cords for greater security on the smooth plain of ice,\nnear the deep precipices.\n\n\"Creeping things!\" said she. \"You the lords of nature!\" and she turned\nherself away from them and looked mockingly down into the deep valley,\nwhere the railway train was rushing past.\n\n\"There they sit, these _thinkers!_ they sit in their power! I see them\nall! One sits proud as a king, alone! there they sit in a cluster!\nthere half of them are asleep! and when the steam dragon stops they\nget out, and go their way. The thinkers go out into the world!\" And\nshe laughed.\n\n\"There is an avalanche rolling again!\" said those down below in the\nvalley.\n\n\"It will not reach us!\" said two people behind the steam dragon; \"two\nsouls with one thought,\" as they say. It was Rudy and Babette; the\nmiller also was with them.\n\n\"As luggage!\" said he. \"I am with them as something necessary!\"\n\n\"There sit those two!\" said the Ice-Maiden.\n\n\"Many chamois have I crushed, millions of Alpine roses have I snapped\nand broken, not leaving the roots! I will blot them out! Thinkers!\nPowerful Spirits!\" And she laughed.\n\n\"There's an avalanche rolling again!\" said those down below in the\nvalley.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\nTHE GODMOTHER.\n\n\nAt Montreux, one of the nearest towns which, with Clarens, Vernex, and\nGlion, form a garland at the northeastern end of the Lake of Geneva,\nlived Babette's godmother, an English lady of position, with her\ndaughters and a young relative; they had recently arrived, but the\nmiller had already paid them a visit, told them of Babette's\nengagement, and of Rudy and the eaglet, and of his visit to\nInterlaken--in short, the whole history--and they had been highly\ndelighted and pleased with Rudy and Babette, and with the miller; and\nat last made them all three come, and so they came--Babette must see\nher godmother, the godmother see Babette.\n\nNear the little town of Villeneuve, at the end of the Lake of Geneva,\nlay the steamboat which in its half-hour's journey to Vernex lies\nunder Montreux. This is a shore which poets have praised; here, under\nthe walnut-trees, on the deep blue-green lake, sat Byron, and wrote\nhis melodious lines on the prisoner in the Castle of Chillon. Yonder,\nwhere Clarens is reflected with its weeping willows in the lake,\nwandered Rousseau, dreaming of Helo\u00efse. The river Rhone glides forth\nunder the high, snow-capped mountains of Savoy; here lies, not far\nfrom its outlet in the lake, a little island--indeed, it is so small\nthat from the shore it seems to be a boat out there; it is a rock\nwhich, more than a hundred years ago, a lady had surrounded with a\nstone wall, covered with soil, and planted with three acacia-trees,\nwhich now overshadow the whole island. Babette was quite enraptured\nwith the little spot--it was to her the most charming in the whole\nvoyage; she thought they ought to stay there, for it was a most\ndelightful place. But the steamboat passed by it, and stopped, as it\nalways did, at Vernex.\n\nThe little company wandered hence between the white, sunlit walls\nwhich enclosed the vineyards about the little mountain town of\nMontreux, where fig-trees cast a shade in front of the peasants'\ncottages, and laurels and cypresses grow in the gardens. Half-way up\nstood the boarding-house where the godmother was living.\n\nThey were very cordially received. The godmother was a tall, kind lady\nwith a round, smiling face; as a child she must have been like one of\nRaphael's angel heads, but now she was an old angel head, as her\nsilvery hair was quite curly. The daughters were handsome,\ndelicate-looking, tall and slim. The young cousin, who was with them,\nwas entirely dressed in white from top to toe, with yellow hair and\nwhiskers, of which he had so much that it might have been divided\nbetween three gentlemen, and he at once paid great attention to little\nBabette.\n\nHandsomely bound books, pieces of music, and drawings were spread over\nthe large table, the balcony doors stood open overlooking the\nbeautiful, extensive lake, which was so bright and still that the\nmountains of Savoy, with the country towns, woods, and snowy tops,\nwere all reflected in it.\n\nRudy, who was always bold, lively, and confident, felt himself out of\nhis element, as they say; and he moved about as if he were walking on\npeas on a smooth floor. How slowly the hours passed! as if on the\ntreadmill. And now they went for a walk, and it was just as tedious;\nRudy might have taken two steps forward and then one back, and still\nkept pace with the others. They walked down to Chillon, the old gloomy\ncastle on the rock, to see the instruments of torture, and\ndeath-chambers, the rusty chains on the rocky walls, the stony bed for\nthose sentenced to death, the trap-doors through which the unfortunate\nbeings were precipitated downwards and impaled on the iron spikes\namidst the surf. They called it delightful to see all this. It was a\nplace of execution, elevated by Byron's song into the world of poetry.\nRudy felt it altogether the scene of executions; he leaned against the\ngreat stone window-frames and looked into that deep, bluish-green\nwater, and over to the little solitary island with the three acacias;\nhe wished himself there, and away from the whole chattering party; but\nBabette felt herself particularly cheerful. She said she had been\nunusually entertained; she found the cousin perfect.\n\n\"Yes, a perfect chatterbox!\" said Rudy; and it was the first time that\nRudy said anything which displeased her. The Englishman had presented\nher with a little book as a memento of Chillon; it was a French\nversion of Byron's poem, _The Prisoner of Chillon_, which Babette\ncould read.\n\n\"The book may be good enough,\" said Rudy, \"but I don't care for the\nmuch-combed fellow who gave it you.\"\n\n\"He seemed to me like a meal-sack without any meal!\" said the miller,\nlaughing at his own wit. Rudy also laughed, and said that it was very\nwell put.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\nTHE COUSIN.\n\n\nA few days later, when Rudy came to call at the mill, he found the\nyoung Englishman there. Babette was just offering him some boiled\ntrout, which she herself must have garnished with parsley, it looked\nso dainty. That was quite unnecessary. What business had the\nEnglishman here? What did he come for? To enjoy refreshments from the\nhands of Babette? Rudy was jealous, and that amused Babette; it\ngratified her to get a glimpse of all sides of his disposition, both\nstrong and weak. Love was as yet but play to her, and she played with\nRudy's whole heart; and though, as one may say, he was her happiness,\nthe chief thought of her life, the best and grandest in the world;\nyes--but the more gloomy did he look, so much the more did her eyes\nlaugh; she could almost have kissed the blond Englishman with the\nyellow whiskers, if by that means she could succeed in sending Rudy\nfuming away, for by that she would know how she was beloved by him.\nBut this was not right or prudent of little Babette, only she was no\nmore than nineteen. She did not think much of it; she thought still\nless how she could explain her conduct, which was more free and easy\nwith the young Englishman than was suitable for the miller's modest\nand recently betrothed daughter.\n\nThe mill was situated where the highroad from Bex runs under the\nsnow-covered peak which, the country people call the Diablerets, not\nfar from a rapid, grayish-white mountain stream, like foaming\nsoap-suds. This did not drive the mill; it was driven by a lesser\nstream, which was precipitated from the rock on the other side of the\nriver, and was dammed up by a stone wall so as to increase its force\nand headway, and carried into a closed wooden basin by a broad channel\naway over the rapid river. This channel was so abundantly supplied\nwith water that it overflowed, and made a wet, slippery path for those\nwho used it as a short cut to the mill. The idea occurred to the young\nEnglishman to use it, and dressed in white, like a working miller, he\nclambered over in the evening, guided by the light shining from\nBabette's room. But he had not learnt to climb, and nearly went\nhead-foremost into the stream, but escaped with wet sleeves and\nbespattered trousers. Muddy and dirty he came below Babette's windows,\nclambered up into the old lime-tree and imitated the call of an owl,\nfor he could not sing like any other bird. Babette heard it, and\npeeped through her thin curtains; but when she saw the white man, and\neasily guessed who it was, her little heart beat with fright and with\nresentment. She hastily put out her light, saw that all the\nwindow-bolts were fastened, and left him to hoot.\n\n[Illustration: \"Babette peeped through the curtains.\"]\n\nIt would be terrible if Rudy were now in the mill, but Rudy was not in\nthe mill; no, what was much worse, he was just below it. There was\nhigh talk, angry words; there would be fighting, perhaps murder.\n\nBabette opened her window in alarm, called Rudy's name, and told him\nto go away.\n\n\"You will not let me stay!\" he shouted; \"then it is an appointment!\nYou are expecting good friends, better than me! Shame on you,\nBabette!\"\n\n\"You are detestable!\" said Babette; \"I hate you!\" and now she was\ncrying. \"Go! go!\"\n\n\"I have not deserved this treatment!\" said he, and he went; his cheeks\nwere like fire, his heart was like fire.\n\nBabette flung herself on her bed, and wept.\n\n\"I love you so much, Rudy! and you can believe that of me!\"\n\nAnd she was angry, very angry, and that did her good, for otherwise\nshe would have been deeply grieved; now she could fall asleep and\nsleep the invigorating sleep of youth.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\nTHE POWERS OF EVIL.\n\n\nRudy left Bex, and took the homeward path up the mountains, in the\nfresh, cooling air, the domain of the Ice-Maiden. The thick foliage of\nthe trees deep below him looked as if they were potato plants; the\nfirs and the bushes appeared even less, the Alpine roses bloomed near\nthe snow, which lay in separate patches as if it were linen put out to\nbleach. There was a single blue gentian, and he crushed it with the\nbutt-end of his gun.\n\nHigher up he saw two chamois. Rudy's eyes sparkled, his thoughts took\na new flight; but he was not near enough to them for him to shoot with\nconfidence; so he climbed higher, where only coarse grass grew among\nthe blocks of stone; the chamois went placidly along the snow-fields.\nRudy hurried on eagerly, surrounded by misty clouds, and on a sudden\nhe stood in front of a precipitous rocky wall, and the rain began to\nfall in torrents.\n\nHe felt a parching thirst, his head was hot, but his limbs were cold.\nHe seized his hunting-flask, but it was empty; he had not thought of\nit when he rushed up the mountain. He had never been ill, but now he\nhad a presentiment of it; he was tired, he felt a desire to throw\nhimself down and go to sleep, but everything was streaming with water.\nStrange objects vibrated before his eyes, but he saw on a sudden, what\nhe had never seen there before, a newly-built low house, leaning\nagainst the rock, and at the door stood a young maiden. He thought it\nwas the schoolmaster's Annette, whom he once had kissed at a dance,\nbut it was not Annette, and yet he had seen her before, perhaps near\nGrindelwald, that night when he went home from the shooting match at\nInterlaken.\n\n\"Where do you come from?\" he demanded.\n\n\"I am at home!\" said she. \"I am watching my flock.\"\n\n\"Your flock! Where do they graze? Here are only snow and rocks!\"\n\n\"You are very clever!\" said she with a laugh. \"Here behind us, lower\ndown, is a beautiful meadow! that is where my goats go. I take good\ncare of them! I don't lose one; what is mine remains mine!\"\n\n[Illustration: She came out with a bowl of wine and gave it to Rudy to\ndrink.]\n\n\"You are brave!\" said Rudy.\n\n\"You also!\" replied she.\n\n\"Have you any milk? Pray give me some, for I am intolerably thirsty!\"\n\n\"I have something better than milk!\" said she, \"that you shall have!\nYesterday some travelers came here with their guide; they forgot half\na bottle of wine, such as you have never tasted; they will not fetch\nit, and I don't drink it, so you can have it.\"\n\nAnd she came out with the wine, poured it into a wooden bowl, and gave\nit to Rudy.\n\n\"That is good!\" said he. \"I have never tasted any wine so warming and\nfiery!\" and his eyes sparkled, and there came an animation, a glow\ninto him, as if all sorrow and depression had evaporated; and the\ngushing, fresh human nature coursed through his veins.\n\n\"But this is surely the schoolmaster's Annette!\" he exclaimed. \"Give\nme a kiss!\"\n\n\"Then give me the pretty ring you have on your finger!\"\n\n\"My engagement ring?\"\n\n\"Exactly so!\" said the girl; and she poured wine into the bowl, and\nheld it to his lips, and he drank it. The joy of living was in his\nblood, he felt as if all the world belonged to him, and why should he\nworry? Everything is for us to enjoy and to make us happy! The stream\nof life is a stream of joy; to ride on it, to let ourselves float on\nits surface, that is felicity! He looked at the young girl: it was\nAnnette, and still it was not Annette; even less was it the goblin\nphantom, as he had called her, he met near Grindelwald. The girl here\non the mountain was fresh as the new-fallen snow, blooming as an\nAlpine rose, and nimble as a kid, but still formed out of Adam's ribs,\nas human as Rudy. And he put his arms around her, and gazed into her\nwonderfully clear eyes. It was only for a second, and in this--who can\nexplain it? was it the spirit of life or of death that filled\nhim?--was he raised on high, or did he sink down into the deep,\nmurderous abyss of ice, deeper, ever deeper? He saw the walls of ice\nlike blue-green glass; endless crevasses gaped around him, and water\ndripped sounding like chimes, and gleaming like pearls in bluish-white\nflames. The Ice-Maiden gave him a kiss, and it chilled him through his\nbackbone and into his brain. He gave one cry of pain, dragged himself\naway, stumbled and fell, and it was night before his eyes. The powers\nof evil had played their game.\n\n[Illustration: \"The Ice-maiden gave him a kiss.\"]\n\nWhen he reopened his eyes the Alpine maiden was gone, as was also the\nsheltering cottage. Water drove down the bare rocky wall, the snow lay\nall round him; Rudy shivered with cold, he was soaked to the skin, and\nhis ring was gone, his engagement ring which Babette had given him.\nHis gun lay by him in the snow; he took it up and wished to discharge\nit, but it missed fire. Watery clouds lay like solid masses of snow in\nthe crevasse; Giddiness sat there and lured on her helpless prey, and\nunder her there was a sound in the deep crevasse as if a huge rock\nwere falling, crushing and sweeping away everything that would stop it\nin its fall.\n\nBut in the mill Babette sat weeping. Rudy had not been near her for\nsix days--he who was in the wrong, he who ought to ask her\nforgiveness, because she loved him with her whole heart.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\n\nIN THE MILLER'S HOUSE.\n\n\n\"What horrid nonsense it is with these human beings!\" said the parlor\ncat to the kitchen cat. \"Now it is broken off again with Babette and\nRudy. She is crying, and he does not think any more of her.\"\n\n\"I can't endure that,\" said the kitchen cat.\n\n\"No more can I,\" said the parlor cat, \"but I won't grieve over it!\nBabette may now be the beloved of the red whiskers! but he has not\nbeen here since he wished to get on the roof.\"\n\nThe powers of evil have their game, both without us and within us.\nThis Rudy had discovered and thought over. What was it that had taken\nplace about him and in him on the top of the mountain? Was it a\nvision, or a feverish dream? Never before had he known fever or\nillness. He had made an examination of his own heart when he judged\nBabette. Could he confess to Babette the thoughts which assailed him\nin the hour of temptation? He had lost her ring, and it was exactly in\nthat loss that she had regained him. Would she confess to him? It\nseemed as if his heart would burst asunder when he thought of her;\nthere arose within him so many memories; he seemed really to see her,\nlaughing like a merry child. Many an affectionate word she had spoken\nin the abundance of her heart came like a gleam of sunshine into his\nbreast, and soon it was all sunshine therein for Babette.\n\nShe might be able to confess to him, and she ought to do so.\n\nHe went to the mill, and confessed, beginning with a kiss, and ending\nin the admission that he was the offender. It was a great offense in\nhim that he could distrust Babette's fidelity; it was almost\nunpardonable! Such distrust, such impetuosity might bring them both to\ngrief. Yes, indeed! and therefore Babette lectured him, and she was\npleased with herself, and it suited her so well. But in one thing Rudy\nwas right--godmother's relation was a chatterbox! She wished to burn\nthe book which he had given her, and not have the least thing in her\npossession that could remind her of him.\n\n\"Now that's all over!\" said the parlor cat. \"Rudy is here again, they\nunderstand each other, and that is the greatest good fortune, they\nsay.\"\n\n\"I heard in the night,\" said the kitchen cat, \"the rats say the\ngreatest good fortune is to eat tallow-candles and to have quite\nenough rancid bacon. Now, which shall I believe--rats, or a pair of\nlovers?\"\n\n\"Neither of them!\" said the parlor cat. \"That is always safest.\"\n\nThe greatest good fortune for Rudy and Babette was close at hand; the\nwedding day--the most beautiful day, as they called it.\n\nBut the marriage was not to take place at the church at Bex, or in the\nmiller's house; the godmother wished the wedding to be held at her\nhouse, and that they should be married in the pretty little church at\nMontreux. The miller stuck to it that this request should be complied\nwith; he alone was aware what the godmother intended to give the\nbride for a wedding present, and considered they ought to make so\nslight a concession. The day was fixed. On the previous evening they\nwere to journey to Villeneuve, and to proceed in the early morning to\nMontreux by boat, that the godmother's daughters might deck the bride.\n\n\"There will be a feast here the day after the wedding,\" said the\nparlor cat. \"Otherwise I would not give one mew for the lot.\"\n\n\"There _will_ be a feast!\" said the kitchen cat; \"ducks and pigeons\nare killed, and a whole deer hangs on the wall. It makes my mouth\nwater to look at it! In the morning they start on their journey.\"\n\nYes, in the morning! This evening Rudy and Babette sat together, as\nbetrothed, for the last time at the mill.\n\nOut of doors was the Alpine glow, the evening bells chimed, the\ndaughters of the sunbeams sang: \"May the best thing happen!\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV.\n\nVISIONS IN THE NIGHT.\n\n\nThe sun was set, the clouds came down in the Rhone valley between the\nhigh mountains, the wind blew from the south, a wind from Africa, but,\nover the high Alps, a tempest, rending the clouds asunder, and, when\nthe wind had swept by, for one instant it was quite still; the torn\nclouds hung in fantastic shapes among the tree-clad mountains, and\nover the rushing Rhone; they hung in shapes like antediluvian\nmonsters, like eagles hovering in the air and like frogs leaping in a\npool; they came down over the rapid stream, they sailed over it\nalthough they sailed in the air. The river bore on its surface a\npine-tree torn up by the roots, watery eddies flowed before it; that\nwas Giddiness--there were more than one--moving in a circle on the\nonward-rushing stream. The moon shone on the snow-covered mountain\ntops, on the black woods and the strange white clouds, visions of\nnight, spirits of the powers of nature; the mountain peasants saw\nthem through the windows, they sailed below in crowds before the\nIce-Maiden who came from her glacier palace, and sat on her\nfrail-craft, the uprooted pine-tree, carrying the glacier water with\nher down the stream to the open lake.\n\n\"The wedding guests are coming!\" That was what whistled and sang in\nthe air and the water.\n\nThere were visions without and visions within. Babette dreamed a\nstrange dream.\n\nIt appeared to her as if she was married to Rudy, and that many years\nhad passed. He was now hunting chamois, but she was at home, and there\nsat with her the young Englishman with the yellow whiskers. His\nglances were warm, his words had a power of witchcraft; he held out\nhis hands to her, and she was obliged to follow him. They left her\nhome and went down the mountain, ever down, and it seemed to Babette\nas if there lay a burden on her heart, which was always growing\nheavier. It was a sin against Rudy, a sin against God. And then on a\nsudden she was standing deserted; her clothes were torn by the\nthorns, her hair was gray. She looked up in her grief, and on the edge\nof a cliff she saw Rudy. She held out her arms towards him, but did\nnot venture to call or pray. Nor would it have helped her, for she\nquickly saw that it was not he, but only his hunting-jacket and hat,\nwhich were hanging on his alpenstock, as hunters set them to deceive\nthe chamois. And in the depth of her affliction Babette wailed out:\n\"Oh, that I had died on the day I was married, the day of my greatest\nhappiness! that would have been a happy life! that would have been the\nbest thing that could happen for me and Rudy! None knows his future!\"\nand in her impious grief she precipitated herself into a deep chasm in\nthe rocks. The spell was broken, and with a cry she awoke.\n\nThe dream had vanished, but she knew that she had dreamed something\ndreadful, and that she had dreamed of the young Englishman, whom she\nhad not seen or thought of for several months. Was he in Montreux? Was\nshe about to see him at the wedding? Her pretty lips tightened at the\nthought, and she knit her brows. But soon there came a smile, and her\neyes gleamed; the sun was shining so beautifully outside, and the\nmorning was that of her wedding with Rudy.\n\nHe was already in the parlor when she came down, and soon they were\naway to Villeneuve. They were a very happy couple; and the miller with\nthem laughed and beamed in the highest spirits; he was a good father\nand an upright man.\n\n\"Now we are the masters at home!\" said the parlor cat.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV.\n\nCONCLUSION.\n\n\nIt was not yet evening when the three happy people reached Villeneuve,\nand sat down to their repast. After dinner the miller sat in an\neasy-chair with his pipe, and took a little nap. The young couple went\narm in arm out of the town, then by the carriage road under the rocks\nso thick with bushes, skirting the deep bluish-green lake. The gloomy\nChillon reflected its gray walls and massive towers in the clear\nwater; the little island with the three acacia trees lay still nearer,\nappearing like a bouquet in the lake.\n\n\"It must be delightful out there!\" said Babette; she had still the\nstrongest inclination to go there, and that wish could be immediately\nfulfilled; there lay a boat by the bank, the line that held it was\neasy to unfasten. They could not see any one from whom to ask\npermission, and so they took the boat, for Rudy could row well.\n\nThe oars caught hold of the water like the fins of a fish, the water\nthat is so pliable and yet so strong, that is all a back to bear, all\na mouth to devour, mildly smiling, softness itself, and yet\noverwhelming and strong to rend asunder. The water foamed in the wake\nof the boat, in which in a few minutes the couple had gained the\nisland, where they landed. There was not more than room enough on it\nfor two to dance.\n\nRudy turned Babette round two or three times, and then, hand in hand,\nthey seated themselves on the little bench beneath the overhanging\nacacias, and gazed into each other's eyes, while all around them was\nilluminated in the splendor of the setting sun. The pine forests on\nthe mountains put on a lilac hue like heather when in flower, and\nwhere the trees ceased and the bare rock came into view it glowed as\nif the mountain was transparent; the clouds in the heavens were\nlighted up as if with red fire, the whole lake was like a fresh,\nblushing rose-leaf. Already, as the shadows lifted themselves up to the\nsnow-clad hills of Savoy, they became bluish, but the topmost peaks\nshone as if of red lava, and for one moment looked as if these glowing\nmasses had raised themselves from the bowels of the earth and were not\nyet extinguished. That was an Alpine glow, such as Rudy and Babette\ncould never hope to see the equal of. The snow-covered Dent du Midi\nhad a splendor like the face of the full moon when it is rising.\n\n\"So much beauty! so much happiness!\" they both said.\n\n\"The earth has no more to give me!\" said Rudy. \"An evening hour like\nthis is a whole lifetime! How often have I felt my good fortune as I\nfeel it now, and thought, 'If all were now ended, how fortunately I\nshould have lived! How blessed is this world!' and the day ended; but\na new one began again, and it seemed to me that it was fairer still!\nHeaven is infinitely good, Babette!\"\n\n\"I am so happy!\" said she.\n\n\"Earth has nothing more to give me!\" exclaimed Rudy.\n\nAnd the evening bells chimed from the mountains of Savoy, from the\nmountains of Switzerland; the dark blue Jura lifted itself towards the\nwest in a golden luster.\n\n\"God give thee what is grandest and best!\" exclaimed Babette.\n\n\"That He will!\" said Rudy. \"To-morrow I shall have it! to-morrow thou\nwilt be mine! my own little, charming wife!\"\n\n\"The boat!\" cried Babette at that moment.\n\nThe boat, which was to take them back, had broken loose and drifted\nfrom the island.\n\n\"I will fetch it!\" said Rudy, throwing off his coat; and he pulled off\nhis boots, sprang into the lake, and took rapid strokes towards the\nboat.\n\nCold and deep was the clear, bluish-green water from the mountain\nglacier. Rudy looked down below, only one single glance--and he\nthought he saw a golden ring rolling, and gleaming, and playing--he\nthought of his lost betrothal ring, and the ring became larger, and\nexpanded into a sparkling circle, and in that shone the clear glacier;\ninterminable deep crevasses yawned around him, and the dripping water\nsounded like a carillon of bells and gleamed with bluish flames; in an\ninstant he saw what we have to tell in so many words. Young huntsmen\nand young maidens, men and women, once swallowed up in the crevasses\nof the glacier, stood here alive, with open eyes and smiling mouth,\nand deep under them came the sound of church bells from submerged\ntowns; a congregation knelt under the church arches, pieces of ice\nformed the organ-pipes, mountain torrents played on it. The Ice-Maiden\nsat on the clear, transparent floor; she raised herself up towards\nRudy, kissed his feet, and there ran a deadly coldness through his\nlimbs, an electric shock--ice and fire! one does not know the\ndifference at the first touch.\n\n\"Mine! mine!\" sounded about him and in him. \"I kissed thee when thou\nwast little! I kissed thee on the mouth! now I kiss thee on the toe\nand on the heel--thou art mine altogether!\"\n\nAnd he was lost in the clear blue water.\n\nAll was still; the church bells ceased to ring, the last notes died\naway with the splendor on the red clouds. \"Mine thou art!\" sounded\nagain in the depths; \"Mine thou art!\" sounded in the heights, from the\nInfinite.\n\nThe icy kiss of Death overcame that which was corruptible; the prelude\nwas over before the drama of life could begin, the discord resolved\ninto harmony.\n\nIt is beautiful to fly from love to Love, from earth into the Heaven.\n\nDo you call that a sad story?\n\nUnfortunate Babette! It was a fearful time for her! the boat drifted\nfarther and farther away. No one on shore knew that the bridal pair\nwere on the little island. Night drew on; the clouds descended and it\nbecame dark. She stood there alone, despairing, weeping. A furious\nstorm broke over her; lightning illuminated the mountains of Jura,\nSwitzerland, and Savoy, and thunder rolled continuously. The\nlightning was almost as bright as the sun; one could see each single\nvine as at midday, and then immediately everything would be shrouded\nin the thickest darkness. The flashes formed knots, rings, zig-zags;\nthey struck round about the lake, they shone from all sides, while the\npeals were increased by the echoes. On the land people drew the boats\nhigher up the banks; every living thing sought shelter, and the rain\npoured down in torrents.\n\n\"Wherever are Rudy and Babette in this furious storm?\" said the\nmiller.\n\nBabette sat with clasped hands, with her head in her lap speechless\nwith grief.\n\n\"In that deep water!\" she said within herself. \"He is deep down, as\nunder the glacier!\"\n\nAnd she remembered what Rudy had told her of his mother's death, of\nhis own rescue, and how he had been brought up as one dead out of the\ncrevasse in the glacier. \"The Ice-Maiden has him again!\"\n\nAnd the lightning flashed as blinding as a ray of the sun on the white\nsnow. Babette started; the lake lifted itself at that instant, like a\nshining glacier; the Ice-Maiden stood there, majestic, pale blue,\nshining, and at her feet lay Rudy's corpse. \"Mine!\" said she; and\nround about was again darkness and gloom, and rushing water.\n\n\"Cruel!\" moaned Babette. \"Why then should he die, when the happy day\nwas come! O God! enlighten my understanding! shine into my heart! I\ncannot understand Thy ways, but I bow to Thy power and wisdom!\"\n\nAnd God shone into her heart. A flash of thought, a ray of light, her\ndream of last night, as if it were real, seemed to shine through her;\nshe called to mind the words which she had spoken: she had wished for\n_the best thing_ for herself and Rudy.\n\n\"Woe is me! was that the seed of sin in my heart? was my dream a future\nlife, whose string must be snapped for my salvation? Miserable me!\"\n\nShe sat wailing in the gloomy, dark night. In the deep stillness she\nthought that Rudy's words sounded again, the last he had uttered:\n\"Earth has nothing more to give me!\" They had been said in the\nabundance of happiness, they came back to her in the depth of her\ngrief.\n\n[Illustration: The Ice-Maiden stood there, majestic, pale blue,\nshining, and at her feet lay Rudy.]\n\nA couple of years have elapsed. The lake smiles, the banks smile; the\nvines put forth swelling grapes; steamboats with waving flags hurry\npast, pleasure-boats with both their sails set fly like white\nbutterflies over the expanse of water; the railway above Chillon has\nbeen opened, and leads deep into the Rhone valley. At every station\nvisitors get out, they come with their red guide-books and read to\nthemselves what remarkable things they have to see. They visit\nChillon, they see from thence in the lake the little island with the\nthree acacias, and read in the book of a bridal pair who, in the year\n1856, sailed thither one evening, of the bridegroom's death and: \"next\nmorning the bride's despairing cry was first heard on the shore.\"\n\nBut the guide-books make no mention of Babette's quiet life with her\nfather, not in the mill--strangers live there--but in the pretty\nhouse near the railway station, where from the windows she often looks\nout in the afternoon over the chestnut trees to the snow mountains\nwhere Rudy used to disport himself; she sees in the evenings the\nAlpine glow, the Children of the Sun encamping above and repeating the\nsong of the traveler whose mantle the whirlwind carried away; it took\nthe covering, but not the man himself.\n\nThere is a rosy luster on the snow of the mountains, there is a rosy\nluster in every heart where the thought is: \"God lets that which is\nbest come to pass!\" but that is not always revealed to us as it was to\nBabette in her dream.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FELLOW-TRAVELER.\n\n\nPoor Johannes was sorely afflicted, for his father was ill, past all\nhope of recovery. Besides their two selves, not a soul was present in\nthe little room. The lamp on the table was flickering, and it was late\nat night.\n\n\"You have been a good son, Johannes,\" said the sick father, \"and God\nwill, no doubt, help you on in the world.\" And he gazed at him with\nmild and thoughtful eyes, fetched a deep sigh, and then died--though\nhe only looked as if he had gone to sleep. But Johannes wept; for now\nhe had nobody in the wide world--neither father, mother, sister, nor\nbrother. Poor Johannes! He knelt down beside the bed, kissed his dead\nfather's hand, and shed many, many bitter tears! But at length his\neyes closed, and he fell asleep against the hard bedpost.\n\nHe had then a strange dream. He thought the sun and moon came down to\nhim, and he saw his father again in full health and freshness, and\nheard him laugh as he used to do when he was pleased. A pretty girl,\nwith a gold crown on her long, shining hair, presented her hand to\nhim; and his father said: \"Look what a bride you have won. She is the\nloveliest maid upon earth.\" He then woke, and all these fine things\nvanished; his father lay dead and cold in his bed, and nobody was near\nthem. Poor Johannes!\n\nIn the following week, the dead man was buried. The son followed close\nbehind the coffin, for he was never again to behold the father who had\nloved him so dearly. He heard them fling the earth down upon the\ncoffin, and still saw a little corner of it left; but, at the next\nshovelful, even that disappeared. Then he felt as though his heart\nwould break, so afflicted was he. They sang a psalm round the grave,\nand it sounded so beautiful that it brought tears into Johannes' eyes.\nHe wept, and felt relieved. The sun shone down gloriously on the green\ntrees, just as if it meant to say: \"You must not be so mournful,\nJohannes. Look how beautifully blue the sky is yonder! Your father is\nup above, and is begging of the All-merciful that you may thrive at\nall times!\"\n\n\"I will always be good,\" said Johannes, \"then I shall join my father\nin heaven; and what joy it will be to meet him again! How much I shall\nhave to tell him, and how much he will have to teach me about the\ndelights of heaven, just as he used to teach me here on earth. Oh,\nwhat joy that will be!\"\n\nHe fancied it all so plainly that he smiled, while the tears still ran\ndown his cheeks. The birds in the chestnut trees kept twittering,\n\"Twit! twit!\" They were gay, although they had been at the funeral;\nbut they knew that the dead man was now in heaven, and had wings much\nlarger and more beautiful than their own; and that he was happy,\nbecause he had been good here on earth: and, therefore, they were\npleased. Johannes saw how they flew from the green trees out into the\nwide world, and then he wished to fly away also. But he first cut out\na large wooden cross to place on his father's grave; and when he\nbrought it thither in the evening, he found the grave decked with\ngravel and flowers. This had been done by strangers, who all esteemed\nthe worthy man who had gone to his last home.\n\nEarly the next morning, Johannes packed up his little bundle, and put\ninto his girdle his whole legacy, consisting of fifty dollars and a\ncouple of silver shillings, with which he meant to wander forth into\nthe world. But first of all he repaired to his father's grave in the\nchurchyard, where he repeated the Lord's Prayer, and then said,\n\"Farewell!\"\n\nAbroad in the fields through which he passed, all the flowers looked\nfresh and lovely in the warm sunshine. And they nodded in the wind,\njust as if they meant to say: \"Welcome to the greenwood! Is it not\ndelightful here?\" But Johannes turned round to give a last look at the\nold church, in which he was christened as an infant, and where he used\nto go with his father every Sunday to hear the service, and to sing\nhis psalm; and in so doing he perceived, in one of the upper loopholes\nof the church tower, the little goblin belonging to it, who stood\nwith his little pointed, red cap on his head, shading his countenance\nwith his arm, so that the sun might not stream into his eyes. Johannes\nnodded farewell to him; and the little goblin waved his red cap, laid\nhis hand on his heart, and then kissed his hand to him, to show that\nhe was kindly disposed towards him, and wished him a happy journey.\n\nJohannes now thought of how many beautiful things he should see in the\nwide world, so large and so magnificent as it was; and he went on and\non much further than he had ever been before. He did not know the\nplaces through which he passed, nor the people whom he met. He was now\nabroad in a foreign land.\n\nThe first night he was obliged to lie on a haycock in the open fields,\nfor he had no other bed. But this he thought was so nice a bed that\nthe king himself could not be better off. The field, and the haycock,\nwith the blue sky above, certainly formed a very pretty bed-chamber.\nThe green grass, dotted with little red and white flowers, was the\ncarpet; the elder bushes and hedges of wild roses were the nosegays\nthat decorated the room; and his washing-basin was the brook, with its\nclear, pure waters, where the reeds were nodding to bid him good night\nand good morning. The moon was a large lamp, high up in the blue\nceiling, and one that could not set fire to the curtains. Johannes\nmight sleep in peace, and he did so, nor did he wake till the sun\nrose, and all the little birds around were singing: \"Good morrow! Good\nmorrow! Are you not yet up?\"\n\nThe bells were ringing for church, for it was Sunday. The people were\ngoing to hear the preacher, and Johannes followed them, sang a psalm,\nand heard the word of God. He felt just as if he were in his own\nparish church, in which he had been christened, and where he sang\npsalms with his father.\n\nIn the churchyard were several graves, some of which were overgrown\nwith very high grass. And he thought how his father's grave would grow\nto look the same in the end, as he would not be there to weed it and\ndeck it. So he fell to work and tore up the grass, and set up the\nwooden crosses that had fallen down, and replaced the wreaths that had\nbeen blown away by the wind, thinking all the time, \"Perhaps some one\nis doing the same for my father's grave, as I am unable to take care\nof it.\"\n\nBefore the church door stood an aged beggar, leaning on a crutch.\nJohannes gave him his silver shillings, and then went forth on his\nway, lighter and happier than he had felt before.\n\nTowards evening there arose a violent storm, which made him hasten to\nfind a shelter. Darkness soon came on; but at length he reached a\nsmall and lonely church that stood on a little hill.\n\n\"I will sit down in a corner,\" said he, as he went in; \"I am so tired\nthat I need rest.\" He then sat down, and folded his hands, and said\nhis evening prayer; and before he perceived it, he was fast asleep,\nand dreaming, while a thunderstorm was raging abroad.\n\nWhen he awoke, it was in the middle of the night, but the fearful\nstorm was over, and the moon shone in through the window to greet him.\nIn the middle of the church stood an open coffin, in which lay the\nbody of a man, that was awaiting burial. Johannes was not fearful, for\nhe had a good conscience; and, besides, he knew that the dead never\ninjure any one. It is only living, wicked men that do any harm. Two\nsuch bad characters stood beside the dead man that was lying in the\nchurch awaiting burial, and they wanted to vent their spite, by not\nletting him rest in his coffin, and casting his poor body outside the\nchurch door.\n\n\"Why do you want to do so?\" asked Johannes. \"It would be very wicked.\nIn Christ's name, let him rest in peace!\"\n\n\"Oh, stuff and nonsense!\" said the two hideous men; \"he has taken us\nin. He owed us money, and couldn't pay it; and now he is dead into the\nbargain, and we shan't recover a penny! Therefore we will take our\nrevenge, and he shall lie outside the church door like a dog.\"\n\n\"I have nothing in the world but fifty dollars,\" said Johannes, \"which\nform my whole patrimony; yet will I willingly give them to you,\nprovided you promise truly to leave the dead man in peace. I shall\nmanage without the money. I have strong and healthy limbs, and a\nmerciful God will assist me in times of need!\"\n\n\"Of course,\" said the ugly men, \"if you pay his debt, we will neither\nof us lay a finger upon him--that you may depend upon.\" And hereupon\nthey took the money which he gave them, laughed aloud at his simple\ngood nature, and went their ways. Then he laid the body carefully back\ninto the coffin, folded the dead man's hands, took leave of him and\ncontinued his way through a large forest, in a contented frame of\nmind.\n\nAll around him, wherever the moon shone through the trees, he saw\nnumbers of elegant little elves at play. His presence did not disturb\nthem, for they knew him to be a good and harmless son of the earth;\nfor it is only bad people who are not privileged to see the elves.\nSome of them were not taller than the breadth of one's finger, and\nwore their long yellow hair fastened up with gold combs. They were\nrocking themselves, two by two, on the large dewdrops that sparkled on\nthe leaves and the tall grass. Now and then the drop would roll away,\nand down they fell between the long blades, occasioning a deal of\nlaughter and merriment amongst the tiny folk. It was a pretty sight.\nThen they sang, and Johannes recognized distinctly all the pretty\nsongs he had learned as a little boy. Large speckled spiders, with\nsilver crowns upon their heads, were set to build suspension bridges\nand palaces from one hedge to another, which, when spangled by the\ndew, glittered like glass in the moonshine. These frolics continued\ntill sunrise, when the little elves crept into the flower-buds and the\nwind took possession of their bridges and palaces, which were tossed\nupon the air as cobwebs.\n\nJohannes had just left the forest, when the full-toned voice of a man\ncried out to him, \"Ho there, comrade! whither are you going?\"\n\n\"Into the wide world,\" said he. \"I have neither father nor mother, and\nam a poor boy; but the Lord will help me in time of need.\"\n\n\"I am likewise going into the wide world,\" said the stranger. \"Shall\nwe keep each other company?\"\n\n\"Willingly,\" said he; and so they walked on together. They soon felt a\nmutual liking for each other, for both were good; only Johannes soon\nfound out that the stranger was much wiser than himself. He had\ntraveled throughout nearly the whole world, and could tell of\neverything that existed.\n\nThe sun was already high when they sat down under a tree to eat their\nbreakfast, just as an old woman was coming up to them. She was very\naged, and almost bent double, and supported herself on a crutch-stick,\nwhile she carried on her back a bundle of firewood, which she had\ngathered in the forest. Her apron was tucked up, and Johannes saw\nthree large rods of fern and willow twigs peeping out at each end.\nWhen she was quite close to our travelers, her foot slipped, and she\nfell with a loud scream, for she had broken her leg--poor old woman!\n\nJohannes at once proposed that they should carry the old woman home;\nbut the stranger opened his knapsack, and took out a box, saying that\nhe had an ointment which would immediately make her leg whole again,\nand so strong that she would be able to walk home by herself, just as\nif the accident had never happened: only he required that she should\ngive him in return the three rods she carried in her apron.\n\n\"That would be well paid,\" said the old woman, nodding her head in a\npeculiar manner. She did not like giving up the rods; but, on the\nother hand, it was still more disagreeable to be lying there with a\nbroken limb. So she gave him the rods, and the moment he had rubbed\nher leg with the ointment the old dame got up, and walked much better\nthan before. Such were the effects of the ointment; and truly it was\nnot of a sort to be purchased at the apothecary's.\n\n\"What do you want with these rods?\" asked Johannes of his\nfellow-traveler.\n\n\"They are three very pretty herb-brooms,\" said he, \"and I like them,\nbecause I am a foolish fellow.\"\n\nThey then went on a good deal further.\n\n\"Look how overcast the sky appears!\" said Johannes, pointing before\nthem. \"Those are frightfully heavy clouds.\"\n\n\"No,\" said his fellow-traveler, \"they are not clouds; they are\nmountains--fine, large mountains--at the top of which one may overlook\nthe clouds, and breathe fresh air. And delightful it is, believe me,\nto stand there! To-morrow we shall assuredly be far out in the wide\nworld.\"\n\nBut they were not so near as they looked, and it took a full day\nbefore they had reached the mountains, where the black forests were\ntowering up to the sky, and where blocks of stone might be found as\nhuge as a large town. It seemed a somewhat difficult undertaking to\ncross them; therefore, Johannes and his fellow-traveler turned into an\ninn, in order to rest and gather strength for the next day's\nexcursion.\n\nA number of persons were assembled in the tap-room of the inn, where a\nman was exhibiting a puppet-show. He had just set up his little\ntheater, and the people were sitting round to see the play. But, right\nin front, a stout butcher had sat himself down in the very best place,\nwhile a great bulldog by his side--who looked wondrously snappish--sat\nstaring like the rest of the audience.\n\nThe play now began. It was a very pretty piece, with a king and queen,\nwho sat on a splendid throne, with gold crowns on their heads and long\ntrains to their robes; for their means allowed them to indulge in such\nluxuries. The prettiest little puppets, with glass eyes and large\nmustaches, stood at all the doors, and opened and shut them, to let in\nfresh air. It was a very agreeable play, and not at all mournful. But,\njust as the queen got up, and passed across the stage, no one knows\nwhat the huge bulldog took into his head; but, being no longer held by\nthe butcher, he jumped right into the theater, and seized the queen by\nthe middle of her slender waist, so that it cracked again. It was\nquite shocking to hear.\n\nThe poor man who exhibited the show was both frightened and sorry for\nthe loss of his queen, for she was the most elegant puppet in his\nstock, and the ugly bulldog had bitten her head off. But when the rest\nof the spectators had retired, the stranger who traveled with Johannes\nsaid that he would set her to rights, and taking out his box, he\nsmeared the puppet with the same ointment that had cured the old\nwoman's broken leg. The moment this was done, the puppet was whole\nagain, and could even move all her limbs of herself, and no longer\nrequired to be pulled by wires. The puppet was like a human being,\nexcept that it could not speak. The showman was vastly delighted, for\nnow he had no longer any occasion to hold this puppet, who could dance\nof her own accord, which none of the others could do.\n\nLate at night, when all the folks at the inn had gone to bed, somebody\nwas heard to sigh so dreadfully deep, and so frequently, that the\nwhole household got up, to see what could be the matter. The showman\nwent to his little theater, for it was from thence the sighing\nproceeded. All the wooden puppets were lying in a heap; the king and\nhis body-guard it was who were sighing so piteously, and staring with\ntheir glass eyes, because they wished to be smeared a little like the\nqueen, in order that they might move of themselves. The queen knelt\ndown and lifted up her pretty crown, saying, \"Take this, but do smear\nmy husband and my courtiers.\" The poor showman could not then help\ncrying, for he was really sorry for his puppets. He immediately\npromised Johannes' fellow-traveler all the money he might earn on the\nfollowing evening through his puppet-show, if he would only smear four\nor five of his prettiest puppets. But the fellow-traveler said he did\nnot require anything but the large sword that he wore at his side, on\nreceiving which, he besmeared six puppets, that immediately danced so\ngracefully that all living girls that beheld them were irresistibly\nimpelled to dance likewise. The coachman and the cook began dancing,\nthen the waiters and the chambermaids, and all the strangers present,\nas well as the shovel and the tongs--only the latter fell down at the\nvery first leap. They had indeed, a merry night of it!\n\nNext morning, Johannes started with his fellow-traveler, before any of\nthe others were astir, and crossed the large forest of fir-trees, in\ntheir way up the high mountains. They climbed to such a height that\nthe church steeples below looked like little blue berries in the green\ngrass, and they could see for miles and miles around, where they had\nnever yet been. Johannes had never before seen so much at once of the\nbeauties of this lovely world. And then the sun shone so warmly\nthrough the fresh blue air, and the huntsmen's horns echoed so\nbeautifully between the mountains, that tears came into his eyes, and\nhe could not forbear exclaiming, \"All-merciful God! what a kind Father\nThou art to us, to have given us all the fine things to be seen in the\nworld!\"\n\nHis fellow-traveler likewise stood with folded hands, and gazed upon\nthe forest, and the towns that lay in the bright sunshine. At the same\nmoment, they heard a lovely sound above their heads, and on looking\nup, they perceived a large white swan hovering in the air, and singing\nas no bird had ever sung before. But its voice grew weaker and weaker,\ntill its head drooped, and it slowly dropped down to their feet, where\nthe poor bird lay quite dead.\n\n\"Two such beautiful wings,\" said the fellow-traveler, \"so white and so\nlarge as this bird's, are worth some money; so I will take them with\nme. You see it was well that I obtained a sword.\" And he cut off the\ntwo wings of the dead swan at a single blow, and kept them.\n\nThey now traveled many miles across the mountains till they at length\nreached a large city containing hundreds of towers, that shone like\nsilver in the sunshine. In the midst of the town stood a handsome\nmarble palace, roofed with pure red gold, in which dwelt the king.\n\nJohannes and his fellow-traveler did not care to enter the town\nimmediately, but went into an inn, situated in the outskirts, in order\nto dress themselves; for they wished to look tidy when they walked\nthrough the streets. The landlord informed them how good a man the\nking was, and that he never injured anybody; but as to his\ndaughter--heaven defend us!--she was a bad princess indeed! Beauty she\npossessed in abundance: nobody was prettier or more elegant than\nherself. But what of that? She was a wicked witch, and was the cause\nof many accomplished princes having lost their lives. She had given\nleave to everybody to woo her. Any one might present himself, be he a\nprince or a beggar; it was all the same to her. Only he must guess\nthree things that she had thought of and questioned him about. If he\nsucceeded, he was to marry her, and become king over all the land at\nher father's death; but if he could not guess the three things, he was\nthen to be hung, or to have his head struck off. Her father the old\nking, was deeply concerned at all this: but he could not forbid her\nbeing so wicked because he had once declared that he would never\nmeddle with her lovers and that she might do as she liked about them.\nEvery time a prince came to try his luck at guessing, in order to\nobtain the princess's hand, he was sure to fail, and was, therefore,\nhung or beheaded. He had been warned betimes that it would be safer to\ndesist from his suit. The old king was so afflicted at the mourning\nand wretchedness thus occasioned that, for one whole day in the year,\nhe and all his soldiers used to kneel and pray that the princess might\ngrow good; but she would not. The old women who tippled brandy used to\ncolor it quite black before they drank it; this was their way of\nmourning, and they could not well do more.\n\n\"What a shocking princess!\" said Johannes. \"She deserves the rod, and\nit would do her good. If I were the old king, she should have been\nthrashed long ago.\"\n\nThey now heard the mob cheering outside the inn. The princess was\npassing, and she was really so beautiful that everybody forgot how\nwicked she was, and therefore hurrahed. Twelve beautiful maidens,\ndressed in white silk clothes and holding golden tulips in their\nhands, rode by her side on coal-black horses. The princess herself was\nmounted on a snow-white steed, with diamond and ruby trappings. Her\nriding-dress was of gold brocade; and the whip she held in her hand\nlooked like a sunbeam. The gold crown on her head resembled the little\nstars twinkling in the heavens, while her mantle consisted of\nthousands of splendid butterflies' wings stitched together. Yet, in\nspite of this magnificence, she was herself far more beautiful than\nher clothes.\n\nWhen Johannes caught sight of her, his face grew as red as a drop of\nblood, and he was struck completely dumb; for the princess exactly\nresembled the beautiful girl with the golden crown, whom he had\ndreamed of the night his father died. He thought her most beautiful,\nand could not help loving her passionately. It could not be possible,\nthought he, that she was a wicked witch, who ordered people to be hung\nor beheaded when they were unable to guess what she asked. \"But since\nevery one, down to the poorest beggar, is free to woo her,\" said he,\n\"I will repair to the palace, for I cannot resist doing so.\" Everybody\nadvised him not to attempt such a thing, as he must inevitably fail\nlike the rest. His fellow-traveler, likewise, warned him to desist;\nbut Johannes thought he should succeed. He brushed his shoes and his\ncoat, washed his hands and face, combed his pretty flaxen hair, and\nthen went alone into the town, and proceeded to the palace.\n\n\"Come in,\" said the old king, when Johannes knocked at the door.\nJohannes opened it, and the old king came forward to meet him in his\ndressing-gown and embroidered slippers; he wore his crown on his\nhead, and bore his scepter in one hand and his ball in the other.\n\"Wait a bit,\" said he, putting the ball under his arm, to leave one\nhand free to present to Johannes. But the moment he heard he came as a\nsuitor, he began to weep so violently that both ball and scepter fell\non the floor, and he was fain to wipe his eyes with the skirts of his\ndressing-gown. Poor old king!\n\n\"Think not of it,\" said he, \"you will fare as badly as all the others.\nCome, you shall see.\"\n\nHe then led him into the princess's pleasure-garden, and a frightful\nsight was there to behold! From every tree hung three or four kings'\nsons who had wooed the princess, but had been unable to guess her\nriddles. At every breeze that blew, all these skeletons rattled till\nthe little birds were frightened, and never dared to come into the\ngarden. All the flowers were propped with human bones; and human\nskulls might be seen grinning in flowerpots. It was an odd garden for\na princess.\n\n\"Now, you see,\" said the old king, \"your fate will be just the same as\nthat of all the others whose remains you behold. Therefore give up\nthe attempt. You really make me quite unhappy, for I take it so to\nheart.\"\n\nJohannes kissed the good old king's hand, and assured him that all\nwould be well; for he was quite enchanted with the lovely princess.\n\nAs the princess then rode into the palaceyard, accompanied by all her\nladies, they went out to greet her. She was marvelously fair to look\nupon, as she presented her hand to Johannes. And he thought a great\ndeal more of her than he did before; and felt certain she could not be\na wicked witch, as everybody said she was. They then went into a room\nwhere little pages handed them sweetmeats and gingerbread-nuts. But\nthe old king was so out of sorts, he could not eat at all. Besides,\nthe gingerbread-nuts were too hard for him.\n\nIt was agreed that Johannes should return to the palace on the\nfollowing morning, when the judges and the whole council would be\nassembled to see and hear how the guessing was carried on. If he\nsucceeded, he was then to return twice more; but there never yet had\nbeen anybody who had been able to solve any question the first time,\nand in each case his life was forfeited.\n\nJohannes felt no anxiety as to how he should fare. On the contrary, he\nwas pleased, and thought only of the beautiful princess; and was quite\nconfident that God would help him through his trials. Though how this\nwas to be accomplished he knew not, and preferred not troubling\nhimself to think about the matter. He capered along on the high-road,\nas he returned to the inn where his fellow-traveler was waiting his\nreturn.\n\nJohannes could not cease expatiating on the gracious reception he had\nmet with from the princess, and on her extreme beauty. He quite longed\nfor the morrow, when he was to go to the palace and try his luck at\nguessing.\n\nBut his fellow-traveler shook his head mournfully. \"I wish you so\nwell!\" said he. \"We might have remained together a good deal longer,\nand now I must lose you! Poor, dear Johannes! I could weep, only I\nwill not spoil your joy on the last evening that we may ever spend\ntogether. We will be merry--right merry! To-morrow, when you are gone,\nI shall be able to weep undisturbed.\"\n\nAll the inhabitants of the town had immediately heard that there was a\nnew suitor for the princess's hand, and there prevailed universal\nconsternation. The theater was closed; the pastry-cooks put crape\nround their sugar-husbands; and the king and the priests were on their\nknees in the church. This sadness was occasioned by the conviction\nthat Johannes could not succeed better than all the other suitors had\ndone.\n\nTowards evening Johannes' fellow-traveler prepared a goodly bowl of\npunch, and said: \"Now let us be merry, and drink the princess's\nhealth.\" But after drinking a couple of glasses, Johannes proved so\nsleepy, that he could not possibly keep his eyes open, and fell fast\nasleep. His fellow-traveler then lifted him gently out of his chair,\nand laid him in bed; and when it was quite dark, he took the two large\nwings he had cut off from the dead swan, and fastened them firmly to\nhis own shoulders. He then put into his pocket the largest rod that\nhe had obtained from the old woman who fell and broke her leg; and\nopening the window, he flew over the town, straight to the palace,\nwhere he placed himself in an upper corner of the building right under\nthe princess's bed-chamber.\n\nThe whole town was perfectly quiet. The clock now struck a quarter to\ntwelve, when the window opened, and the princess, wrapped in a flowing\nwhite mantle, and provided with a pair of black wings, flew over the\ncity towards a large mountain. But the fellow-traveler made himself\ninvisible; and as he flew behind the princess, he thrashed her with\nhis rod till she bled. What a strange flight through the air it was!\nThe wind caught her mantle, which swelled out on all sides like the\nlarge sail of a ship, and the moon shone through it.\n\n\"How it does hail, to be sure!\" said the princess, at every blow she\nreceived from the rod; and such weather suited her. At last she\nreached the mountain, and knocked for admittance. Then came a noise\nlike a clap of thunder, while the mountain opened, and the princess\nwent in. The fellow-traveler followed her, for nobody could see him,\nas he was invisible. They went through a long, wide passage, where the\nwalls shone brilliantly from the light of above a thousand glittering\nspiders that were running up and down and illuminating them like fire.\nThey next entered a large hall built of silver and gold; red and blue\nflowers as large as sunflowers were beaming from the walls; but nobody\ncould pluck them, for the stems were ugly, venomous serpents, and the\nflowers were the flames their jaws kept vomiting forth. The whole\nceiling was covered with glow-worms and light-blue bats that were\nflapping their thin wings. It looked quite frightful. In the middle of\nthe floor stood a throne that was supported by the skeletons of four\nhorses, whose harness had been furnished by the red, fiery spiders.\nThe throne itself was of milk-white glass, and the cushions were\nlittle black mice that kept biting each other's tails. Above it was a\ncanopy of a deep-red cobweb, dotted with the prettiest little green\nflies that sparkled like precious stones. On the throne sat an old\nmagician, with a crown on his ugly head and a scepter in his hand. He\nkissed the princess on her forehead, and placed her beside him on his\nsplendid throne, and then the music struck up. Huge black grasshoppers\nplayed the jew's-harp, while the owl beat a tattoo on its own body,\nhaving no better drum. It was a ludicrous concert. Little dark-colored\ngoblins, with a will-o'-the-wisp in their caps, danced about the room.\nBut nobody could see the fellow-traveler, who had placed himself right\nbehind the throne, where he could see and hear everything. The\ncourtiers, who now came in, were very delicate and genteel. But\nanybody who could see what is what, would quickly perceive what they\nwere made of. They were nothing better than broomsticks with cabbages\nfor their heads, whom the magician had conjured into life, and whom he\nhad tricked out in embroidered clothes. However, they did just as\nwell, as they were only wanted for show.\n\nAfter a little dancing, the princess related to the magician that she\nhad a new suitor, and consulted him as to what she should ask him\nnext morning when he came to the palace.\n\n\"I will tell you what,\" said the magician; \"you must choose something\neasy, and then he'll never hit upon it. Think of one of your shoes.\nHe'll never guess that. Then you will have him beheaded, and mind you\ndon't forget to bring me his eyes to-morrow night.\"\n\nThe princess bowed, and said she would not forget to bring them. The\nmagician then opened the mountain, and she flew back; but the\nfellow-traveler followed her, and struck her so smartly with the rod,\nthat she sighed most deeply over such a hail-storm, and hastened all\nshe could to reach her bed-chamber through the window. The\nfellow-traveler then returned to the inn, where Johannes was still\nasleep, took off his wings, and went to bed likewise, for he might\nwell be tired.\n\nJohannes woke at an early hour next morning. His fellow-traveler got\nup, and told him that he had had a strange dream that night about the\nprincess and her shoe, and therefore urged him to ask whether it was\nnot her shoe that the princess was thinking about? For this he had\nlearned from the magician in the mountain.\n\n\"I may as well ask that as anything else,\" said Johannes. \"Perhaps\nyour dream may turn out to be the truth, for I trust in God to help me\nthrough. Still, I will take leave of you, because should I guess\nwrong, I shall never see you again.\"\n\nThey then embraced one another, and Johannes went into the town, and\nwalked to the palace. The whole hall was filled with people. The\njudges sat in their armchairs, with their heads propped up by\neider-down cushions, because they had so much to think about. The old\nking stood wiping his eyes with a white pocket-handkerchief. The\nprincess now entered. She looked more beautiful than even the day\nbefore, and saluted the assembly with charming grace. But she extended\nher hand to Johannes, saying: \"Good morning to you.\"\n\nJohannes was now called upon to guess what she had thought of. Bless\nme! how kindly she did look at him! But no sooner had he pronounced\nthe single word \"shoe,\" than she turned as pale as chalk, and trembled\nall over. Still, this did not serve her much, since he had guessed\ncorrectly.\n\nBut, goodness! how pleased the old king was--he cut a caper that was\nquite pleasant to behold! And all present clapped their hands, to\ncheer both him and Johannes, who had been successful in this, his\nfirst ordeal.\n\nThe fellow-traveler was likewise much rejoiced on hearing how matters\nhad turned out. But Johannes folded his hands and thanked his God, who\nhe felt certain would help him through the two next times. On the\nfollowing day, he was to make a second attempt at guessing.\n\nThe evening passed much the same as the foregoing one. When Johannes\nhad gone to sleep, his fellow-traveler flew after the princess to the\nmountain, and thrashed her more violently than before, having taken\ntwo rods with him. Nobody saw him, and he heard all that was said. The\nprincess was to think of her glove, and this he repeated to Johannes,\nas if it had been a dream. So that he was able to guess correctly,\nwhich occasioned great joy amongst the inmates of the palace. The\nwhole court cut capers as they had seen the king do the first time.\nBut the princess lay on the sofa, and would not speak a word. All now\ndepended on whether Johannes could guess right the third time. If he\nsucceeded, he was to marry the beautiful princess, and reign over the\nland at the old king's death. But if he guessed wrong, he was to\nforfeit his life, and the magician would have his beautiful blue eyes.\n\nOn the preceding evening, Johannes went to bed early, said his\nprayers, and then fell into a quiet sleep. But his fellow-traveler\ntied his wings to his back, and put his sword at his side, and taking\nthe three rods with him, flew towards the palace.\n\nIt was as dark as pitch, and there was such a storm that the tiles\nwere flying off from the roofs of the houses, and the trees in the\ngarden, where hung the skeletons, bent like so many reeds beneath the\nwind. It lightened every moment, and the thunder rolled along as\nthough it was a single clap that lasted through the whole night. The\nwindow now opened, and the princess flew out. She was as pale as\ndeath, but she laughed at the bad weather, and thought it was scarcely\nbad enough. And her white mantle fluttered in the wind like a large\nsail, while the fellow-traveler thrashed her with the three rods till\nher blood flowed, and she could scarcely fly any farther. She managed,\nhowever, to reach the mountain.\n\n\"This is a violent hail-storm,\" said she; \"I was never out in such\nweather before.\"\n\n\"There may be too much of a good thing,\" observed the magician.\n\nShe now told him that Johannes had guessed aright the second time, and\nshould he succeed again on the following morning, he would then have\nwon, and she would never again be able to come to the mountain, or to\npractise magic arts as she had hitherto done; therefore was she quite\nout of spirits.\n\n\"He shall not be able to guess it,\" said the magician, \"for I will\nfind out something that he will never hit upon, unless he is a greater\nconjurer than myself. But now let's be merry!\" And then he took both\nthe princess's hands, and they danced about with all the little\ngoblins, wearing will-o'-the-wisp lights, that were in the room. The\nred spiders jumped just as merrily up and down the walls; it looked as\nif the fiery flowers were emitting sparks. The owl beat the drum, the\ncrickets whistled, and the black grasshoppers played on the\njew's-harp. It was a frolicsome ball.\n\nWhen they had danced enough the princess was obliged to go home, for\nfear of being missed in the palace. The magician said he would\naccompany her, that they might be together a little longer.\n\nThey then flew away through the bad weather, while the fellow-traveler\nbroke his three rods across their shoulders. The magician had never\nbeen out in such a hail-storm before. Just on reaching the palace, and\non bidding the princess farewell, he whispered, \"Think of my head.\"\nBut the fellow-traveler heard him, and just as the princess slipped in\nat her bedroom window, and the magician was about to turn round, he\nseized him by the long black beard, and cut off his ugly head at a\nsingle stroke from his sword, so that the magician had not even time\nto see him. He then threw the body into the sea, to serve as food for\nthe fishes; but he merely dipped the head in the waters, and then tied\nit up in his silk handkerchief, and took it to the inn, and went to\nbed.\n\nNext morning he gave the bundle to Johannes, bidding him not open it\ntill the princess should ask him what she was thinking of.\n\nThere were so many spectators in the large hall of the palace, that\nthey stood as thick as radishes tied in a bunch. The council sat on\ntheir armchairs with the soft cushions, and the old king was dressed\nin new clothes; his golden crown and scepter had been furbished up;\nand the whole scene looked very solemn. But the princess was pale as\nashes, and wore a coal-black dress, as though she were attending a\nfuneral. \"What have I thought of?\" asked she of Johannes. And he\nimmediately opened the silk handkerchief, when he was himself quite\nstartled on beholding the ugly magician's head. Everybody shuddered,\nfor it was frightful to look at; but the princess sat like a statue,\nand could not speak a word. At length she rose and gave her hand to\nJohannes, for he had guessed aright. She looked neither to the right\nnor the left, but sighed out: \"Now you are my master! Our wedding will\nbe celebrated this evening.\"\n\n\"So much the better,\" said the old king, \"that's just what I wish.\"\nAll present cried \"Hurrah!\" The soldiers on parade struck up their\nmusic in the streets, the bells were set-a-ringing, the pastry-cooks\ntook the black crape off their sugar-husbands, and rejoicings were\nheld everywhere. Three oxen, stuffed with ducks and chickens, and\nroasted whole, were placed in the middle of the market-place, and\nevery one was free to cut a slice; the fountains spouted the most\ndelicious wine; and if one bought a penny cracknel at the baker's one\nreceived six large biscuits as a present--and the biscuits had raisins\nin them!\n\nTowards night the whole town was illuminated, the soldiers fired\ncannons, and the boys let off pop-guns; and there was a deal of\neating, and drinking, and crushing, and capering at the palace. All\nthe fine gentlemen and the beautiful young ladies danced together, and\none might hear them from afar singing the following song:--\n\n    \"Here are many maidens fair,\n      Who twirl like any spinning-wheel,\n    And tread the floor as light as air;\n      Still round and round, sweet maiden, reel,\n    And dance away the mazes through,\n    Until the sole has left your shoe.\"\n\nBut the princess was still a witch, and could not endure Johannes.\nThis struck his fellow-traveler, and therefore he gave Johannes three\nfeathers out of the swan's wings, and a small phial containing only a\nfew drops, and told him to place a large vat full of water in front of\nthe princess's bed, and when the princess was about to get into bed,\nhe must give her a slight push, so that she should fall into the\nwater, into which he must dip her three times, having taken care first\nto shake in the feathers and the contents of the phial. The magic\nspell would then be broken, and she would love him tenderly.\n\nJohannes did all that his fellow-traveler suggested. The princess\nshrieked aloud when he dipped her into the water, and struggled out of\nhis hands under the form of a coal-black swan with fiery eyes. The\nsecond time she rose to the surface the swan had become white, all but\na black ruff round its neck. Johannes prayed to God, and made the bird\ndive down a third time, when it was suddenly transformed to the most\nbeautiful princess. She was far lovelier than before, and thanked him,\nwith tears in her eyes, for having broken the spell that bound her.\n\nOn the following morning, the old king came with all his court, and\nthe congratulations lasted till late in the day. Last of all came\nJohannes' fellow-traveler, with his stick in his hand, and his\nknapsack at his back. Johannes embraced him affectionately, and said\nthat he must not go away, but stay with him, for he was the cause of\nall his happiness. But his fellow-traveler shook his head, and said in\na mild and friendly voice: \"No; my time is now up. I have but paid a\ndebt. Do you remember the dead man whom his wicked creditors would\nfain have ill-used? You gave all you possessed that he might rest in\npeace in his grave. I am that dead man!\"\n\nAnd at the same moment he vanished.\n\nThe wedding rejoicings now lasted a full month. Johannes and the\nprincess loved each other dearly, and the old king lived to see many a\nhappy day, and dandled his little grand-children on his knee, and let\nthem play with his scepter. And Johannes became king over the whole\nland.\n\n\n\n\nTHE OLD BACHELOR'S NIGHTCAP.\n\n\nThere is a street in Copenhagen oddly named Hysken Str\u00e2de, and one\nnaturally asks what Hysken signifies, and why Hysken at all. Common\nreport says it is a German word, but in justice to the German tongue\nthis is not the case, since it would then have been Hauschen, of which\nHysken is the Danish corruption, and it means \"the street of tiny\nhouses.\"\n\nFor many a year it consisted of nothing but wooden booths, such as may\nbe seen to this day in the market-place; possibly they were a little\nlarger. The window-panes were not of glass, but horn, for at that time\nglass was too expensive for general use. Remember, we are speaking of\nmany years ago. Your great-grandfather would have called them \"the\nolden times.\" Yes, several hundred years ago.\n\nTrade in Copenhagen was entirely, or nearly so, in the hands of\nwealthy Bremen and L\u00fcbeck merchants, whose clerks (for they themselves\nstayed at home) lived in the Hysken Str\u00e4de, in the booths of this\nstreet of tiny houses, and sold beer and groceries. Delicious German\nbeer it was too, and all kinds for sale--Bremen, Prussian, and\nBrunswick, and spices of every variety--saffron, aniseed, ginger and\nabove all pepper. Indeed, this was the staple commodity--hence the\nGerman clerks in Denmark acquired the nickname Pepper-folk--and since\nthey were bound not to marry whilst in that country, many grew old and\ngray in service, and, as they performed their own domestic services\nthemselves they became crabbed old fellows with whimsical ideas. This\nbeing so, it became usual to dub all crotchety old bachelors\n\"pepper-fogeys,\" an expression now naturalized into the German\nlanguage. This must be borne in mind if you would understand what\nfollows.\n\nThese pepper-fogeys used to be unmercifully ridiculed, and told to\npull down a nightcap over their ears and toddle off to bed, and many\nare the doggerel verses in which the nightcap figures. Yes, fun was\npoked at the pepper-fogeys with their nightcaps, just because they\nwere so little known. And why should not one wish for a nightcap? you\nmay ask. Listen, and I will tell you.\n\nHauschen Street was in those days unpaved, and wayfarers stumbled\nalong as if it were a little side-alley. So narrow indeed was it, and\nso huddled together the booths, that in summertime a sail would be\nstretched from side to side, and strong was the fragrance of saffron\nand ginger pervading the stalls, behind which there served for the\nmost part old men. They were not, however, clothed, as in the\nportraits of our ancestors, with peruke, knee-breeches, elegant\nwaistcoat and tunic of ample cut, as you might suppose.\n\nNo, these old pepper-fogeys were no dandies to be portrayed on canvas,\nthough one could well wish to have a picture of one as he stood at the\ncounter, or betook himself with leisurely gait to church on holy days.\nA broad-brimmed hat, high in the crown, in which maybe the younger\namong them would sport a feather, a woolen shirt beneath a wide\nflapping collar, a close-fitting jacket, a loose cloak worn over it,\nand the trousers tucked into the broadly-peaked shoes, for stockings\nhad they none. At his belt a knife and fork, and a larger knife for\nself-defense--a necessary precaution in those days.\n\nSuch was the costume of old Anthony, one of the oldest of the\npepper-fogeys, only in place of the broad-brimmed high-crowned hat he\nalways wore a sort of bonnet, under which was a knitted skullcap, a\nveritable nightcap, which never left his head. One or other, for he\nhad two, was always on his head day and night. He formed a perfect\nstudy for an artist, so lean and wizened was he, so wrinkled his brow,\nhis fingers so skinny, his eyebrows so bushy. He was said to be a\nnative of Bremen; but in truth, though his master was, old Anthony was\nborn at Eisenach, hard by the Wartburg. He never told the others, but\npondered over it the more.\n\nThe old fellows did not often come together. He stayed in his own\nroom, a dim light penetrating the opaque window-panes. Seated on the\nbed, he chanted his evening psalm. Theirs was not a happy\nlot--strangers in a strange land, heeded by none, save to be brushed\naside when in the way.\n\nOn black nights, when the rain was pelting down outside, it was far\nfrom cosy within. Not a lamp visible, save that which threw a light on\na picture of the Virgin painted on the wall. Hark to the rain beating\nin torrents on the masonry of the castle-wharf! Such evenings were\nlong and dreary without some task. To arrange and rearrange things in\nthe house, to make paper bags, to polish scales, is not work for every\nday. One must find other things to do, as did old Anthony. He would\ndarn his clothes, and patch up his boots. And when at last he went to\nbed, true to his habit, down he would draw his nightcap, but soon\nraised it to see the candle was quite extinguished. He would snuff out\nthe wick between finger and thumb, pull down his nightcap, and turn\nover to sleep. But it occurred to him to see if the ashes on the\nlittle hearth in the corner were quite burnt out; if they were damped\nenough, lest a stray spark should kindle a fire, and do damage.\n\nUp he would get again, creep down the ladder (for steps they could not\nbe called), and finding not a spark in the ash-pan, would go back in\npeace. But before he was half in bed he would have a doubt whether the\nbolts and shutters of the shop were secured, and down once more went\nthe tottering feet, his teeth a-chattering with the cold, for never\nsuch biting frost as in late winter. Then, pulling up the coverlet and\ndrawing down his nightcap, he would dismiss all thoughts of business\nand the day's toil from his mind. But no happier than before--old\nmemories would weave their fantastic shapes before his fancy, and a\nmany thorn lay hidden in the garlands.\n\nWhen one pricks one's finger tears brim to the eyelids, and oftentimes\nold Anthony shed hot and bitter tears, that glistened like pearls. The\nlargest pearls would fall on the coverlet with so sad a sound that it\nseemed his heart's strings were breaking.\n\nBrightly would they glisten and illumine pictures of his childhood,\nnever fading memories.\n\nAs he dried his tears on the nightcap, the scenes would vanish, but\nnot the source of his tears: that lay deep in his heart.\n\nThe scenes did not follow the natural sequence of life; the saddest\nand most joyful together, but the last had the deepest shadows.\n\nThe beech forests of Denmark are admitted by all to be fine, but\nfairer still to the eyes of old Anthony were those around the\nWartburg. More majestic and lofty the aged trees around the baronial\ncastle, where the foliage of creepers trailed over the stone\nbuttresses. Sweeter there the perfume of apple-blossoms. Vividly did\nhe call them to mind, and a shining tear rolled down his cheek,\nwherein he saw two children, a boy and a girl, at play. The boy,\nrosy-cheeked and curly-haired, with clear blue eyes, was himself, the\nlittle Anthony. The girl had brown eyes, dark hair, and a merry,\nbright expression. She was the Burgomaster's daughter, Molly. The\nchildren were playing with an apple, which they shook to hear the pips\nrattle inside. They shared the apple and ate it up, all but one pip,\nwhich the little girl proposed they should plant in the earth.\n\n\"Then you will see something you'd never think of,\" said she; \"an\napple tree will grow, but not all at once.\" So they busied themselves\nplanting it in a flower-pot. He made a hole, and she laid the pip in,\nand both heaped on the earth.\n\n\"Mind,\" said she, \"you don't dig up the pip to see if it has struck\nroot. Indeed, you mustn't. I did so--only twice--because I knew no\nbetter, and the flowers withered.\" Anthony kept the flower-pot, and\nevery day the winter through watched it, but nothing was to be seen\nbut the black earth. Then came the spring and warm sunshine, and two\nlittle twigs peeped forth from the pot. \"Oh, how lovely!\" cried\nAnthony, \"they are for Molly and me.\"\n\nSoon came another shoot; whom could that represent? Then another and\nyet another, and every week it grew, till it became a big plant. All\nthis was mirrored in a single tear. Brush it away as he might, the\nsource dwelled deep in his bosom.\n\nNot far from Eisenach is a ridge of rocky heights, treeless and bare,\nknown as the Venusberg.\n\nHere was the abode of Venus, goddess of heathen mythology, known also\nto every child round about as Lady Holle. She it was who lured the\nknightly Tannh\u00e4user, the minstrel of the Wartburg, to her mountain.\n\nLittle Molly and Anthony would ofttimes stand at the foot of the\nmountain, and one day she asked him, \"Do you dare knock and say, 'Lady\nHolle! Lady Holle! open the door. Tannh\u00e4user is here'?\" But Anthony\nwas afraid, only his playmate ventured.\n\n\"Lady Holle! Lady Holle!\" she cried, loud and clear, but the rest so\nlow and indistinct that he believed that she did not utter it. She\nlooked so winning and was of such high spirit. When they were at play\nwith other children in the garden, Molly alone of them all would dare\nto kiss him, just because he was unwilling and resisted. \"I dare kiss\nhim,\" she would cry, and throw her arms round his neck, and the boy\nwould submit to her embrace, for how charming, how saucy she was, to\nbe sure!\n\nLady Holle, so people said, was beautiful, but her beauty was that of\na wicked temptress. The noblest type of beauty was that of the devout\nElizabeth, tutelary saint of the land, the pious lady whose gracious\nactions were known near and far. Her picture hangs in the chapel lit\nup by silver lamps, but she and Molly bore no resemblance to one\nanother.\n\nThe apple tree they had planted grew year by year till it was so large\nit had to be planted anew in the open air, where the dew fell and the\nsun shed his warm rays; and it flourished and grew hardy, and could\nbear the wintry blast, blossoming in the springtide as if for very\njoy. In the autumn it bore two apples--one for Molly, one for Anthony.\nRapidly grew the tree, and with it grew Molly, fresh as one of its\nblossoms; but not for long was Anthony fated to watch this fair\nflower.\n\nAll things here on earth are subject to change.\n\nMolly's father left the old home and went afar. Nowadays, by the\nrailroad, it takes but some few hours, but in those times over a day\nand night, to travel so far east as to Weimar.\n\nBoth Molly and Anthony cried, and she told him he was more to her\nthan all the fine folk in Weimar could be.\n\nA year passed by--two, three years--and only two letters came: the\nfirst sent by a letter-carrier, the other by a traveler--a long and\ndevious way by town and hamlet.\n\nHow often had he and Molly together read the story of Tristan and\nIsolde, and bethought them the name Tristan meant \"conceived in\ntribulation.\" But with Anthony no such thought could be harbored as\n\"She has forsaken me.\"\n\nTrue, Isolde did _not_ forsake Tristan; buried side by side in the\nlittle churchyard, the lime trees met and entwined over their graves.\nAnthony loved this story, sad though it was.\n\nBut no sad fate could await him and Molly, and blithely he sang as he\nrode in the clear moonlight towards Weimar to visit Molly.\n\nHe would fain come unexpected, and unexpected he came.\n\nAnd welcome they made him. Wine-cups filled to the brim, distinguished\ncompany, a comfortable room, all these he found, but it was not as he\nhad pictured it, dreamed of it.\n\nPoor Anthony could not make it out, could not understand them, but we\ncan. We know how one may be in the midst of others and yet be\nsolitary; how one talks as fellow-voyagers in a post-chaise, boring\none another, and each wishing the other far away.\n\nOne day Molly spoke to him. \"I am straight-forward, I will tell you\nall. Since we were playmates together much has altered. It is not only\nan outward change in me, you see. Habit and will do not control our\naffections. I wish you well, Anthony, and would not have you bitter\ntowards me when I am far away, but love, deep love, I cannot feel for\nyou. Fare thee well!\"\n\nSo Anthony bade her farewell. No tear bedimmed his eye, but he felt he\nhad lost a friend. Within four and twenty hours he was back in\nEisenach; the horse that bore him, bore him no more.\n\n\"What matter?\" said he, \"I am lost. I will destroy whatever reminds me\nof the Lady Holle. The apple tree--I will uproot it, shatter it. Never\nmore shall it bloom and bear fruit.\"\n\nBut the tree was not injured. Anthony lay on his bed, stricken with\nfever. What can avail him. Suddenly a medicine, the bitterest medicine\nknown to man, cured his fever, convulsing body and soul. Anthony's\nfather was no longer the rich merchant he had been!\n\nTroublous days, days of trial, awaited them. Misfortune fell upon the\nhome; the father, dogged by fate, became poor. So Anthony had other\nthings to think about than the resentment he cherished in his heart\ntowards Molly. He must take his father's place, he must go out into\nthe great world and earn his bread.\n\nHe reached Bremen: hardship and dreary days were his lot--days that\nharden the heart or sometimes make it very tender. How he had\nmisjudged his fellow-men in his young days! He became resigned and\ncheerful. God's way is best, was his thought. How had it been if\nheaven had not turned her affection to another before this calamity?\n\"Thanks be to heaven,\" he would say. \"She was not to blame, and I have\nfelt so bitter towards her.\"\n\nTime passed on. Anthony's father died, and strangers occupied the old\nhome. But he was destined to see it once more. His wealthy master sent\nhim on business that brought him once more to Eisenach, his native\ntown.\n\nThe old Wartburg was unchanged--the monk and nun hewn on its stones.\nThe grand old trees set off the landscape as of old. Over the valley\nthe Venusberg rose, a gray mass in the twilight. He longed to say,\n\"Lady Holle! Lady Holle! open the door to me. Fain would I stay\nforever.\" It was a sinful thought, and he crossed himself. Old\nmemories crowded to his mind as he gazed with tear-bedewed eyes at the\ntown of childhood's days. The old homestead stood unchanged, but the\ngarden was not the same. A roadway crossed one corner of it. The apple\ntree, which he had _not_ destroyed, was no longer in the garden, but\nacross the way.\n\nStill, as of old, bathed in sunshine and dew, the old tree bore\nrichly, and its boughs were laden with fruit. One of its branches was\nbroken. Wilful hands had done this, for the tree now stood by the\nhighway.\n\nPassers-by plucked its blossoms, gathered its fruit, and broke its\nbranches. Well might one say, as one says of men, \"This was not its\ndestiny as it lay in its cradle.\" So fair its prospects, that this\nshould be the end! Neglected, forsaken, no longer tended, there\nbetween field and highway it stood--bare to the storm, shattered and\nrent. As the years roll by it puts forth fewer blossoms, less\nfruit--and its story comes to a close!\n\nSo mused Anthony many a lonely evening in his room in the wooden booth\nin a strange land, in the narrow street in Copenhagen, whither his\nrich master sent him bound by his vow not to marry.\n\nMarriage, forsooth, for him! Ha, ha! he laughed a strange laugh.\n\nThe winter was early that year with sharp frost. Outside raged a\nblinding snowstorm, so that every one that could stayed indoors. And\nso it befell that his neighbors never saw that for two days his shop\nwas unopened, nor Anthony been seen, for who would venture out if not\ncompelled to?\n\nThose were sad, dismal days in his room, where the panes were not of\nglass, and--at best but faintly lighted--it was often pitch dark. For\ntwo days did Anthony keep his bed; he lacked strength to rise. The\nbitter weather affected his old joints. Forgotten was the\npepper-fogey; helpless he lay. Scarce could he reach the water-jug by\nthe bedside, and the last drop was drunk. Not fever, not sickness,\nlaid him low: it was old age.\n\nIt was perpetual night to him as he lay there.\n\nA little spider spun a web over the bed, as if for a pall when he\nshould close his eyes forever.\n\nLong and very dreary was the time. Yet he shed no tears, nor did he\nsuffer pain. His only thought was that the world and its turmoil were\nnot for him; that he was away from them even as he had passed from the\nthoughts of others.\n\nAt one time he seemed to feel the pangs of hunger, to faint with\nthirst. Was no one coming? None could come. He thought of those who\nperished of thirst, thought how the saintly Elizabeth, the noble lady\nof Th\u00fcringen, visited the lowliest hovels, bearing hope to and\nsuccoring the sick. Her pious deeds inspired his thoughts; he\nremembered how she would console those in pain, bind up their wounds,\nand though her stern lord and master stormed with rage, bear\nsustenance to the starving. He called to mind the legend how her\nhusband followed her as she bore a well-stocked basket to the poor,\nand confronting her demanded what lay within. How in her great dread\nshe replied, \"Flowers I have culled in the garden.\" How when he\nsnatched aside the cloth to see whether her words were true, wine,\nbread, and all the basket held miraculously changed to roses.\n\nSuch was the picture of the saint; so his weary eyes imagined her\nstanding by his bed in the little room in a strange land. He raised\nhis head and gazed into her gentle eyes. All round seemed bright and\nrosy-hued. The flowers expanded, and now he smelt the perfume of\napple-blossoms; he saw an apple tree in bloom, its branches waving\nabove him. It was the tree the children had planted in the flower-pot\ntogether.\n\nAnd the drooping leaves fanned his burning brow and cooled his parched\nlips; they were as wine and bread on his breast. He felt calm and\nserene, and composed himself to sleep.\n\n\"Now I will sleep, and it will bring relief. To-morrow I shall be\nwell; to-morrow I will rise. I planted it in love; I see it now in\nheavenly radiance.\" And he sunk to rest.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nOn the morrow--the third day--the storm abated, and his neighbors came\nto see old Anthony. Prone he lay, clasping in death his old nightcap\nin his hands.\n\nWhere were the tears he had shed, where the pearls? They were still in\nthe nightcap. True pearls change not. The old thoughts, the tears of\nlong ago--yes, they remained in the nightcap of the old pepper-fogey.\n\nCovet not the old nightcap. It would make your brow burn, your pulse\nbeat fast. It brings strange dreams. The first to put it on was to\nknow this. It was fifty years later that the Burgomaster, who lived in\nluxury with wife and children, put it on. His dreams were of unhappy\nlove, ruin, and starvation.\n\n\"Phew! how the nightcap burns,\" said he, and tore it off, and pearl\nafter pearl fell from it to the ground. \"Good gracious!\" cried the\nBurgomaster, \"I must be feverish; how they sparkle before my eyes.\"\nThey were tears, wept half a century before by old Anthony of\nEisenach.\n\nTo all who thereafter put on the nightcap came agitating visions and\ndreams. His own history was changed to that of Anthony, till it became\nquite a story. There may be many such stories; we, however, leave\nothers to tell them.\n\nWe have told the first, and our last words shall be, \"Don't wish for\nthe old bachelor's nightcap.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE GARDEN OF PARADISE.\n\nTHE FOUR WINDS.\n\n\nThere once lived a king's son, who possessed a larger and more\nbeautiful collection of books than anybody ever had before. He could\nread in their pages all the events that had ever taken place in the\nworld, and see them illustrated by the most exquisite engravings. He\ncould obtain information about any people or any country, only not a\nword could he ever find as to the geographical position of the Garden\nof the World; and this was just what he was most desirous of\nascertaining.\n\nHis grandmother had told him, when he was quite a little boy, and\nbeginning to go to school, that each flower in the Garden of the World\nwas the most delicious cake, and had its stamina filled with luscious\nwine; on one stood written historical facts, on another geography or\narithmetical tables--and so one need only eat cakes to learn one's\nlesson, and the more one ate, the more history, geography, and\narithmetic one acquired.\n\nHe used to believe this. But when he grew a little older, and had\nlearned more and become wiser, he began to understand that there must\nbe better delights than these in the Garden of the World.\n\nHe was now seventeen, and nothing ran in his head but this garden.\n\nOne day he went to take a walk in the forest, all alone, as he best\nliked to be.\n\nAs evening came on, the sky grew overcast, and there came on such a\nshower, that it seemed as if the heavens had become one vast sluice\nthat kept pouring down water; besides this, it was darker than it\nusually is, even at night, except at the bottom of the deepest well.\nAt every step, he either slipped on the wet grass, or stumbled over\nsome bare rock. Everything was dripping wet, and the poor prince had\nnot a dry thread about him. He was obliged to climb over huge blocks\nof stone, where water was running down from the thick moss. He was\nnear fainting away, when he heard a singular rushing noise, and\nperceived a large cavern, lighted up by a huge fire, piled up in the\nmiddle, and fit to roast a whole deer. And this, indeed, was being\ndone. A very fine deer, with its branching horns, was placed on a\nspit, and slowly turned round between the felled trunks of two\npine-trees. An elderly woman, as bony and masculine as though she were\na man in female attire, sat by the fire, and kept throwing in one log\nof wood after another.\n\n\"Come nearer,\" said she, \"and sit by the fire, and dry your clothes.\"\n\n\"There is a great draught here,\" observed the prince, sitting down on\nthe ground.\n\n\"It will be much worse when my sons come home,\" returned the woman.\n\"You are in the Cavern of the Winds. My sons are the Four Winds of\nHeaven--can you understand that?\"\n\n\"Where are your sons?\" asked the prince.\n\n\"It is difficult to answer a silly question,\" said the woman. \"My sons\nare now at it, with their own hands. They are playing at shuttle-cock\nwith the clouds, up there in the King's hall.\" And she pointed above.\n\n\"Oh, that's it!\" quoth the prince. \"But you seem to speak rather\nharshly, and are not as gentle as the women I am accustomed to see.\"\n\n\"Because they have nothing else to do. But I must be harsh, to keep my\nboys in any order; which I manage to do, headstrong as they are. You\nsee those four bags hanging on the wall? Well, they are every bit as\nmuch afraid of them as you used to be of the rod behind the\nlooking-glass. I bend the boys in two, I can tell you, and then pop\nthem into the bag, without their making the least resistance. There\nthey stay, and don't dare come out till I think it proper they should.\nBut here comes one of them.\"\n\nIt was the North Wind who came in, diffusing an icy coldness around.\nLarge hailstones jumped about on the floor, and snowflakes were\nscattered in all directions. He wore a bearskin jacket and clothes;\nhis cap of sea-dog's skin came down over his ears; long icicles clung\nto his beard, and one hailstone after another fell from the collar of\nhis jacket.\n\n\"Don't go too near the fire at once,\" said the prince, \"or your face\nand hands might easily get frozen.\"\n\n\"Frozen, quotha!\" said the North Wind, with a loud laugh. \"Why, cold\nis my greatest delight! But what kind of little snip are you? How did\nyou come into the Cavern of the Winds?\"\n\n\"He is my guest,\" said the old woman; \"and if that does not satisfy\nyou, why, you need only get into the bag. Do you understand me now?\"\n\nWell, this did the business at once; and the North Wind then began to\nrelate whence he came, and where he had been staying for nearly a\nmonth past.\n\n\"I come from the Arctic Sea,\" said he, \"and I have been on Bear's\nIsland, with the Russian sea-cow hunters. I sat and slept at the helm,\nas they sailed away from the North Cape; but whenever I happened to\nwake, the petrels were flying about my legs. What comical birds they\nare! They will flap their wings suddenly, and then remain poised upon\nthem, and quite motionless, as if they had had enough of flying.\"\n\n\"Don't be so diffuse,\" said the mother of the Winds. \"And so you\nreached Bear's Island?\"\n\n\"It's a beautiful place! There's a ballroom floor for you, as smooth\nas a plate! Heaps of half-thawed snow, slightly covered with moss,\nsharp stones, and skeletons of sea-cows and bears were lying about,\ntogether with the arms and legs of giants in a state of green decay.\nIt looks as if the sun had never shone there. I blew slightly on the\nmist, that the hovels might be visible, and there appeared a hut,\nbuilt from the remains of a ship that had been wrecked, and covered\nover with sea-cows' skins. The fleshy side was turned outwards, and it\nwas both red and green. A living bear sat growling on the roof. I went\nto the shore, and looked after birds' nests, and saw the unfledged\nyoungsters opening their beaks and screaming lustily; so I blew into\ntheir thousands of throats, and they learned to shut their mouths. A\nlittle farther on, the sea-cows were rolling about like giant worms\nwith pigs' heads, and teeth a yard long.\"\n\n\"You tell your adventures right pleasantly, my son,\" said his mother;\n\"it makes my mouth water to hear you.\"\n\n\"Then the hunting began. The harpoon was flung right into the\nsea-cow's chest, so that a smoking jet of blood spurted forth like\nwater from a fountain, and besprinkled the ice. Then I thought of my\npart of the game. I began to blow, and set my vessels, the towering\nicebergs, to stick the boats fast. Oh! what a whistling and a bawling\nthere was! Only I whistled louder than all of them. They were obliged\nto unpack the dead sea-cows, the chests, and the tackle upon the ice;\nI then shook snowflakes over them, and left them and their spoils to\nsail in their pent-up vessels towards the south, to drink salt-water.\nThey will never return to Bear's Island.\"\n\n\"Then you have done mischief?\" said the mother of the Winds.\n\n\"Let others tell of the good I may have done!\" said he. \"But here\ncomes my brother from the West. I like him the best, because he smacks\nof the sea, and brings a nice bracing cold with him.\"\n\n\"Is that the little Zephyr?\" asked the prince.\n\n\"Yes, that is the Zephyr!\" said the old woman; \"but he's not so very\nlittle either. Some years ago he was a pretty boy; but that is now\nover.\"\n\nHe looked like a wild man; but he wore a roller round his head, that\nhe might not get hurt. In his hand he held a mahogany club, hewn from\nan American mahogany forest. It was no small weight to carry.\n\n\"Whence do you come?\" asked the mother.\n\n\"From the wild forests,\" said he, \"where tangled bindweed forms a\nhedge between each tree, where water-snakes lie in the damp grass, and\nwhere man seems to be a superfluous nonentity.\"\n\n\"What have you been doing there?\"\n\n\"I looked into the deep river, and saw it had rushed down from the\nrocks, and then became dust, and flew towards the clouds to support\nthe rainbow. I saw a wild buffalo swimming in the river, but he was\ncarried away by the tide. He had joined a flock of wild ducks, who\nflew up into the air the moment the waters dashed downwards. The\nbuffalo was obliged to be hurled into the precipice. This pleased me,\nand I raised a storm, so that the oldest trees sailed down the river,\nand were reduced to splinters.\"\n\n\"And was that all you did?\" asked the old woman.\n\n\"I cut capers in the savannahs, I stroked wild horses and shook\ncocoanut trees. Oh! I have plenty of tales to tell! Only one must not\ntell all one knows, as you well know, good mammy.\" And he kissed his\nmother so roughly, that she had nearly fallen backwards. He was a\nshocking wild lad.\n\nNow, in came the South Wind in a turban and Bedouin's flying mantle.\n\n\"It is very cold hereabouts!\" said he, throwing wood upon the fire.\n\"It is easy to perceive that the North Wind has preceded me.\"\n\n\"It is hot enough here to roast a northern bear!\" said the North Wind.\n\n\"You are a bear yourself!\" answered the South Wind.\n\n\"Have you a mind to be both put into the bag?\" asked the old woman.\n\"There! sit down on that stone, and tell us where you have been.\"\n\n\"In Africa, mother,\" returned he. \"I was amongst the Hottentots, who\nwere lion-hunting in Caffraria. The grass in their plains looks as\ngreen as an olive. An ostrich ran a race with me, but I beat him\nhollow. I reached the yellow sands of the desert, which look like the\nbottom of the sea. I met a caravan. They killed their last camel to\nobtain some water; but they only got a very little. The sun was\nscorching above, and the sand equally scorching beneath one's feet.\nThe desert stretched out into boundless expanse. I then rolled in the\nfine loose sand, and made it whirl about in large columns. A fine\ndance I led it! You should have seen how dejected the dromedaries\nlooked as they stood stock still, and how the merchants pulled their\ncaftans over their heads. They threw themselves on the ground before\nme as they would before Allah, their God. They are now all buried\nbeneath a pyramid of sand; and when I come to puff it away, the sun\nwill bleach their bones, and travelers will see that others have been\nthere before them: a fact which is seldom believed in the desert,\nshort of some tangible proof.\"\n\n\"Then you have done nothing but mischief!\" said his mother. \"Into the\nbag with you!\" And before he had time to perceive it, she had taken\nthe South Wind round the waist, and popped him into the bag. He\nwiggled about on the ground; but she sat upon him, and then he was\nforced to lie still.\n\n\"Your sons are a set of lively boys!\" said the prince.\n\n\"Yes,\" answered she; \"and I know how to correct them. Here comes the\nfourth.\"\n\nThis was the East Wind, who was dressed like a Chinese.\n\n\"Oh! you come from that neighborhood, do you?\" said his mother. \"I\nthought you had been to the Garden of the World?\"\n\n\"I am going there to-morrow,\" said the East Wind. \"To-morrow will be a\nhundred years since I was there. I have just returned from China,\nwhere I danced round the porcelain tower till all the bells were set\na-jingling. The government officers were being beaten in the street;\nthe bamboo stick was broken across their shoulders; and these were\npeople belonging to the several degrees from the first to the ninth.\nThey cried out: 'Many thanks, my fatherly benefactor!' But the words\ndid not come from their hearts, so I made the bells jingle, and sang!\n'Tsing! tsang! tsu!'\"\n\n\"You are a wanton boy!\" said the old woman. \"It is well you are going\nto-morrow to the Garden of the World, for that always improves your\nmind. Pray drink abundantly from the fountain of wisdom, and take a\nsmall phial and bring it home full for me.\"\n\n\"I will,\" said the East Wind. \"But why have you put my brother from\nthe South into the bag? Take him out again; I want him to tell me\nabout the ph\u0153nix, for the princess in the Garden of the World\nalways asks after him when I pay her my visit every hundredth year.\nOpen the bag, there's a dear mammy, and I'll give you two pocketfuls\nof tea-leaves, all green and fresh, just as I plucked them from the\nbush on the spot where it grew.\"\n\n\"Well, for the sake of the tea, and because you are mammy's own boy, I\nwill open the bag.\"\n\nThis she accordingly did, and out crept the South Wind, looking rather\nfoolish, because the strange prince had witnessed his disgrace.\n\n\"There is a palm-tree leaf for the princess,\" said the South Wind.\n\"The old ph\u0153nix, the only bird of his sort in the wide world, gave\nme this leaf. He has traced upon it with his beak the whole history of\nhis life during the hundred years that form its span. She may,\ntherefore, be now enabled to read how the ph\u0153nix set fire to his\nnest, and sat upon it as it was burning, like the widow of a Hindoo.\nHow the dried twigs did crackle! and what a smoke there was! At length\nout burst the flames: the old ph\u0153nix was burnt to ashes, but an egg\nlay glowing hot in the fire. It burst with a loud report, and the\nyoung bird flew out; and now he is king over all the other birds, and\nthe only ph\u0153nix in the world. He has bitten a hole in the leaf\nwhich I gave you, and that is his way of sending his duty to the\nprincess.\"\n\n\"Now let us eat something,\" said the mother of the Winds. And they all\nsat down to partake of the roast deer. The prince sat beside the East\nWind; therefore, they soon became good friends.\n\n\"And pray what kind of a princess may she be whom you are talking so\nmuch about and where lies the Garden of the World?\"\n\n\"Ho, ho!\" said the East Wind. \"What! have you a mind to go there?\nWell, you can fly over with me to-morrow, though I must tell you no\nmortal ever visited it before. It is inhabited by a fairy queen, and,\nin it lies the Island of Happiness, a lovely spot where death never\nintrudes. Get upon my back to-morrow, and I'll take you with me; for I\nthink it can be managed. But now don't speak any more, for I want to\nsleep.\"\n\nAnd then to sleep they all went.\n\nThe prince awoke at an early hour next morning, and was not a little\nsurprised on finding himself high above the clouds. He sat on the\nback of the East Wind, who was holding him faithfully; and they were\nso high in the air that forests, fields, rivers, and lakes lay beneath\nthem like a painted map.\n\n\"Good morning!\" said the East Wind. \"You might just as well have slept\na bit longer, for there is not much to be seen in the flat country\nbeneath us, except you have a mind to count the churches. They look\nlike chalk dots on the green board.\"\n\nIt was the fields and the meadows that he called the \"green board.\"\n\n\"It was uncivil of me not to take leave of your mother and brothers,\"\nobserved the prince.\n\n\"When one is asleep, one is to be excused,\" replied the East Wind.\n\nAnd they began to fly quicker than ever. When they swept across the\ntree-tops, you might have heard a rustling in all their leaves and\nbranches. On the sea and on the lakes, wherever they flew, the waves\nrose higher and the large ships dipped down into the water like\nswimming swans.\n\nTowards evening, when it grew dark, the large towns looked beautiful.\nThey were dotted here and there with lights, much after the fashion of\na piece of paper that has burned till it is black, when one sees all\nthe little sparks going out one after another. The prince clapped his\nhands with delight, but the East Wind begged him to let such\ndemonstrations alone, and rather attend to holding fast, or else he\nmight easily fall down and remain dangling on a church steeple.\n\nFast as the eagle flew through the black forests, the East Wind flew\nstill faster. The Cossack was scouring the plains on his little horse,\nbut the prince soon outstripped him.\n\n\"You can now see Himalaya,\" said the East Wind, \"the highest mountain\nin Asia--and now we shall soon reach the Garden of the World.\" They\nthen turned more southwards, and the air was soon perfumed with spices\nand flowers. Figs and pomegranates grew wild, and clusters of blue and\nred grapes hung from wild vines. They now descended to the earth, and\nreclined on the soft grass, where the flowers seemed to nod to the\nwind as though they had said--\"Welcome!\"\n\n\"Are we now in the Garden of the World?\" asked the prince.\n\n\"No, indeed!\" replied the East Wind; \"but we soon shall be. Do you see\nyon wall of rocks, and that broad cavern, where the vines hang down\nlike a huge green curtain? That's the road through which we must pass.\nWrap yourself in your mantle, for burning hot as the sun is just\nhereabout, it is as cold as ice a few steps farther. The bird who\nflies past the cavern feels one wing to be in the warm summer abroad\nwhile the other is in the depth of winter.\"\n\n\"So then this seems to be the way to the Garden of the World?\" asked\nthe prince.\n\nThey now entered the cavern. Oh, how icy cold it was! Only it did not\nlast long. The East Wind spread out his wings, and they beamed like\nthe brightest fire. But what a cavern it was, to be sure! The huge\nblocks of stone from which the water kept dripping down, hung over\nthem in the oddest shapes, sometimes narrowing up till they were\nobliged to creep on all-fours, at other times widening into an\nexpanse as lofty as though situated in the open air. It looked like a\nchapel for the dead, with petrified organs and dumb organ-pipes.\n\n\"We seem to be crossing through an abode of Death to reach the Garden\nof the World!\" said the prince. But the East Wind did not answer a\nsyllable, and merely pointed forwards where the loveliest blue light\nmet their eyes. The blocks of stone above their heads rolled away into\na mist that finished by assuming the shape of a white cloud on a\nmoonlight night. They were now in a most delightfully mild atmosphere,\nas cool as the mountain breeze, and as perfumed as a valley of roses.\nA river, clear as the air itself, was running along, filled with gold\nand silver fishes; scarlet eels, that emitted blue sparks at every\nmotion, were disporting in the depths of the waters; while the broad\nleaves of the water-lilies that lay on its surface showed all the\ntints of the rainbow; the flower itself was a reddish-yellow burning\nflame that received its nourishment from the water as oil feeds the\nflame of a lamp. A marble bridge, as delicately sculptured as though\nit had been made of lace and glass beads, led across the water to the\nIsland of Happiness, where bloomed the Garden of the World.\n\nThe East Wind took the prince on his arm and carried him over. And the\nflowers and leaves sang the sweetest songs of his childhood, but in so\nlovely a strain of melody as no human voice ever yet sang.\n\nWere they palm-trees or gigantic water-plants that grew on this\nfavored spot? The prince could not tell, for never had he seen such\nlarge and luxuriant trees before. The most singular creepers, too,\nsuch as one only sees represented in gold and colors in the margins of\nilluminated old missals, or twined around the first letter in a\nchapter, were hanging in long festoons on all sides. It was a most\ncurious mixture of birds, and flowers, and scrolls. Just by a flock of\npeacocks were standing on the grass displaying their gorgeous fan-like\ntails. The prince took them for live creatures, but found, on touching\nthem, that they were only plants--large burdock leaves, which, in this\nfavored spot, beamed with all the glorious colors of the peacock's\ntail. A lion and tiger were disporting with all the pliancy of cats\namongst the green hedges, that were perfumed like the flower of the\nolive-tree; and both the lion and the tiger were tame. The wild\nwood-pigeon's plumage sparkled like the fairest pearl, and the bird\nflapped the lion's mane with its wings; while the antelope, usually so\nshy, stood near and nodded its head, as if willing to join them at\nplay.\n\nNow came the fairy of the garden. Her clothes were radiant as the sun,\nand her countenance was as serene as that of a happy mother rejoicing\nover her child. She was young and beautiful, and was followed by a\ntrain of lovely girls, each wearing a beaming star in her hair. The\nEast Wind gave her the leaf sent by the phoenix, when her eyes\nsparkled with joy. She took the prince by the hand and led him into\nher palace, whose walls were of the hues of the most splendid tulip\nwhen it is turned towards the sun. The ceiling was a large radiant\nflower, and the more one looked at it, the deeper its calyx appeared\nto grow. The prince stepped to the window, and looked through one of\nthe panes, on which was depicted Jacob's dream. The ladder seemed to\nreach to the real sky, and the angels seemed to be flapping their\nwings. The fairy smiled at his astonished look, and explained that\ntime had engraved its events on each pane, but they were not merely\nlifeless images, for the leaves rustled, and the persons went and came\nas in a looking-glass. He then looked through other panes, where he\nsaw depicted the events of ancient history. For all that had happened\nin the world lived and moved upon these panes; time only could have\nengraved so cunning a masterpiece.\n\nThe fairy then led him into a lofty, noble hall, with transparent\nwalls. Here were a number of portraits, each of which seemed more\nbeautiful than the other. There were millions of happy faces whose\nlaughing and singing seemed to melt into one harmonious whole; those\nabove were so small that they appeared less than the smallest rosebud\nwhen represented on paper by a mere dot. In the midst of the hall\nstood a large tree with luxuriant drooping branches. Golden, apples,\nboth great and small, hung like china oranges amid the green leaves.\nFrom each leaf fell a sparkling red dewdrop, as if the tree were\nshedding tears of blood.\n\n\"We will now get into the boat,\" said the fairy, \"and enjoy the\ncoolness of the water. The boat rocks, but does not stir from the\nspot, while all the countries of the earth glide past us.\" And it was\nwonderful to behold how the whole coast moved. First came the lofty\nsnow-capped Alps, overhung with clouds and overgrown with fir-trees.\nThe horn was sounding its melancholy notes, while the shepherd was\ncaroling in the vale. Then banana-trees flung their drooping branches\nover the boat; coal-black swans swam on the water, and flowers and\nanimals of the strangest description might be seen on the shore. This\nwas New Holland, the fifth part of the world, that glided past, with a\nview of the blue mountains. One could hear the hymns of the priests\nand see the savages dancing to the sound of drums and trumpets made of\nbones. Egypt's pyramids reaching to the clouds, overturned columns and\nsphinxes, half buried in the sand, followed in their turn. The aurora\nborealis next shone upon the extinguished volcanoes of the north.\nThese were fireworks that nobody could have imitated! The prince was\ndelighted; and he saw a hundred times more than what we have\nmentioned.\n\n\"Can I remain here forever?\" asked he.\n\n\"That depends on yourself,\" replied the fairy. \"If you do not long for\nwhat is forbidden, you may stay here forever.\"\n\n\"I will not touch the apple on the Tree of Knowledge,\" said the\nprince; \"here are thousands of fruits equally fine.\"\n\n\"Examine your own heart, and if you do not feel sufficient strength,\nreturn with the East Wind who brought you hither. He is now about to\nfly back, and will not appear again in this place for the next hundred\nyears. The time would seem to you here to be only a hundred hours, but\neven that is a long span for temptation and sin. Every evening, on\nleaving you, I shall be obliged to say: 'Come with me!' I shall make a\nsign with my hand, yet you must stay away. If once you followed, your\nlonging would increase at every step. You would then enter the hall\nwhere grows the Tree of Knowledge I sleep beneath its perfumed,\ndrooping branches. You would bend over me, and I should be forced to\nsmile. But if you pressed a kiss on my lips, then would the garden\nsink into the earth and be lost for you. The sharp winds of the desert\nwould howl around you, the cold rain would trickle over your head, and\nsorrow and distress would fall to your lot.\"\n\n\"I will remain here,\" said the prince. And the East Wind kissed his\nforehead, saying, \"Be firm, and then we shall meet again in a hundred\nyears. Farewell! farewell!\" And the East Wind spread his large wings,\nand they shone like the lightning in harvest time, or like the\nnorthern lights in a cold winter.\n\n\"Farewell! farewell!\" sounded from the flowers and the trees. Storks\nand pelicans flew in long rows, like streaming ribbons to accompany\nhim to the boundaries of the garden.\n\n\"We will now begin our dances,\" said the fairy. \"At the close, when\nI'm dancing with you, and just as the sun is sinking, you will see me\nmake a sign, and you will hear me say, 'Come with me.' But do not do\nit. For a hundred years shall I be obliged to repeat the same thing\nevery evening; and each time when it is over will you gain fresh\nstrength. In the end you'll cease to think about it. This evening will\nbe the first time--and now you are warned.\"\n\nThe fairy then led him into a large room made of white transparent\nlilies. The yellow stamina in each flower pictured a little golden\nharp that yielded a sweet music partaking of the combined sounds of\nstringed instruments and the tones of the flute. Lovely girls with\nslender aerial figures, and dressed in lightest gauze, floated through\nthe mazes of the dance, and sang of the delights of living and being\nimmortal, and blooming forever in the Garden of the World.\n\nThe sun now set. The whole sky was one mass of gold that imparted the\ntints of the richest roses to the lilies; and the prince drank of the\nsparkling wine handed to him by the young maidens, and felt a bliss\nhe had never before experienced. He saw the background of the ballroom\nnow opening, and the Tree of Knowledge stood before him in such\nstreams of light that his eyes were dazzled. The singing that rang in\nhis ears was soft and lovely as his mother's voice, and it seemed as\nif she sang, \"My child! my beloved child!\"\n\nThe fairy then made him a sign with her eyes, and cried most sweetly:\n\"Come with me! Come with me!\" And he rushed towards her, forgetting\nhis promise, though it was but the first evening, and she continued to\nbeckon to him and to smile. The spicy perfumes around grew yet more\nintoxicating; the harps sounded sweeter; and it was as if the millions\nof smiling faces in the room, where grew the tree, nodded and sang:\n\"We must know everything! Man is the lord of the earth!\" And there\nwere no more tears of blood dropping down from the leaves of the Tree\nof Knowledge; but he thought he saw red sparkling stars instead.\n\n\"Come with me! come with me!\" said the thrilling tones; and at each\nstep the prince's cheeks glowed more intensely, and his blood rushed\nmore wildly.\n\n\"I must!\" said he; \"it is no sin, and cannot be one! Why not follow\nwhen beauty calls? I will see her asleep; and provided I do not kiss\nher, there will be no harm done--and kiss I will not, for I have\nstrength to resist, and a firm will.\"\n\nAnd the fairy cast aside her dazzling attire, bent back the boughs,\nand in another moment was completely concealed.\n\n\"I have not yet sinned,\" said the prince, \"and do not intend to sin!\"\nAnd then he pushed the boughs aside; there she lay already asleep, and\nlovely as only the fairy of the Garden of the World is privileged to\nbe. She smiled in her dreams; yet as he bent over her, he saw tears\ntrembling between her eyelashes.\n\n\"And do you weep for me?\" whispered he. \"Oh, weep not, most admirable\nof women! I now begin to understand the happiness to be found in this\nplace. It penetrates into my blood, and I feel the joys of the blessed\nin this my earthly form! Though it were ever after eternally dark for\nme, one moment like this is happiness enough!\" And he kissed the tears\nin her eyes, and his mouth pressed her lips.\n\nThen came a thunder-clap, so loud and so tremendous as never was heard\nbefore. Down everything fell to ruins--the beautiful fairy, the\nblooming garden, all sank deeper and deeper still. The prince saw the\ngarden sinking into the dark abyss below, and it soon only shone like\na little star in the distance. He turned as cold as death, and closed\nhis eyes, and lay senseless.\n\nThe cold rain fell on his face, and the sharp wind blew over his head.\nHe then returned to consciousness. \"What have I done?\" sighed he.\n\"Alas! I have sinned, and the Island of Happiness has sunk down into\nthe earth!\" And he opened his eyes and saw a distant star like that of\nthe sinking garden; but it was the morning star in the sky.\n\nHe got up and found himself in the large forest close to the Cavern of\nthe Winds. The mother of the Winds sat by him, and looked angry, and\nraised her arm aloft.\n\n\"The very first evening,\" said she. \"I thought it would be so! If you\nwere my son, you should be put into the bag presently.\"\n\n\"Into it he shall go, sure enough!\" said Death. He was a stalwart man\nwith a scythe in his hand, and large black wings. \"In his coffin shall\nhe be laid, but not yet. I'll only mark him now, and allow him to\nwander about the world yet awhile, to expiate his sins and to grow\nbetter. But I shall come at last. When he least expects it, I shall\nput him into the black bag, place it on my head, and fly up to the\nstars. There, too, blooms a lovely garden, and if he be good and\npious, he will be allowed to enter it; but should his thoughts be\nwicked, and his heart still full of sin, then will he sink in his\ncoffin yet lower than he saw the Garden of the World sink down; and it\nwill be only once in every thousand years that I shall go and fetch\nhim, when he will either be condemned to sink still deeper, or be\nborne aloft to the beaming stars above.\"\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n    A. L. Burt's Catalogue of Books for\n    Young People by Popular Writers, 52-58\n    Duane Street, New York\n\n\nBOOKS FOR GIRLS.\n\n\n=Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. By LEWIS CARROLL.= 12mo,\ncloth, 42 illustrations, price 75 cents.\n\n    \"From first to last, almost without exception, this story is\n    delightfully droll, humorous and illustrated in harmony with the\n    story.\"--=New York Express.=\n\n=Through the Looking Glass, and What Alice Found There.= By LEWIS\nCARROLL. 12mo, cloth, 50 illustrations, price 75 cents.\n\n    \"A delight alike to the young people and their elders, extremely\n    funny both in text and illustrations.\"--=Boston Express.=\n\n=Little Lucy's Wonderful Globe.= By CHARLOTTE M. YONGE. 12mo,\ncloth, illustrated, price 75 cents.\n\n    \"This story is unique among tales intended for children, alike\n    for pleasant instruction, quaintness of humor, gentle pathos,\n    and the subtlety with which lessons moral and otherwise are\n    conveyed to children, and perhaps to their seniors as\n    well.\"--=The Spectator.=\n\n=Joan's Adventures at the North Pole and Elsewhere.= BY ALICE\nCORKRAN. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents.\n\n    \"Wonderful as the adventures of Joan are, it must be admitted\n    that they are very naturally worked out and very plausibly\n    presented. Altogether this is an excellent story for\n    girls.\"--=Saturday Review.=\n\n=Count Up the Sunny Days=: A Story for Girls and Boys. By C. A.\nJONES. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents.\n\n    \"An unusually good children's story.\"--=Glasgow Herald.=\n\n=The Dove in the Eagle's Nest.= By CHARLOTTE M. YONGE. 12mo,\ncloth, illustrated, price $1.00.\n\n    \"Among all the modern writers we believe Miss Yonge first, not\n    in genius, but in this, that she employs her great abilities for\n    a high and noble purpose. We know of few modern writers whose\n    works may be so safely commended as hers.\"--=Cleveland Times.=\n\n=Jan of the Windmill.= A Story of the Plains. By MRS. J. H.\nEWING. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.\n\n    \"Never has Mrs. Ewing published a more charming volume, and that\n    is saying a very great deal. From the first to the last the book\n    overflows with the strange knowledge of child-nature which so\n    rarely survives childhood: and moreover, with inexhaustible\n    quiet humor, which is never anything but innocent and well-bred,\n    never priggish, and never clumsy.\"--=Academy.=\n\n=A Sweet Girl Graduate.= By L. T. MEADE. 12mo, cloth,\nillustrated, price $1.00.\n\n    \"One of this popular author's best. The characters are well\n    imagined and drawn. The story moves with plenty of spirit and\n    the interest does not flag until the end too quickly\n    comes.\"--=Providence Journal.=\n\n=Six to Sixteen=: A Story for Girls. By JULIANA HORATIA EWING.\n12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.\n\n    \"There is no doubt as to the good quality and attractiveness of\n    'Six to Sixteen.' The book is one which would enrich any girl's\n    book shelf.\"--=St. James' Gazette.=\n\n=The Palace Beautiful=: A Story for Girls. By L. T. MEADE. 12mo,\ncloth, illustrated, price $1.00.\n\n    \"A bright and interesting story. The many admirers of Mrs. L. T.\n    Meade in this country will be delighted with the 'Palace\n    Beautiful' for more reasons than one. It is a charming book for\n    girls.\"--=New York Recorder.=\n\n=A World of Girls=: The Story of a School. By L. T. MEADE. 12mo,\ncloth, illustrated, price $1.00.\n\n    \"One of those wholesome stories which it does one good to read.\n    It will afford pure delight to numerous readers. This book\n    should be on every girl's book shelf.\"--=Boston Home Journal.=\n\n=The Lady of the Forest=: A Story for Girls. By L. T. MEADE.\n12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.\n\n    \"This story is written in the author's well-known, fresh and\n    easy style. All girls fond of reading will be charmed by this\n    well-written story. It is told with the author's customary grace\n    and spirit.\"--=Boston Times.=\n\n=At the Back of the North Wind.= By GEORGE MACDONALD. 12mo,\ncloth, illustrated, price $1.00.\n\n    \"A very pretty story, with much of the freshness and vigor of\n    Mr. Macdonald's earlier work.... It is a sweet, earnest, and\n    wholesome fairy story, and the quaint native humor is\n    delightful. A most delightful volume for young\n    readers.\"--=Philadelphia Times.=\n\n=The Water Babies=: A Fairy Tale for a Land Baby. By CHARLES\nKINGSLEY. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.\n\n    \"The strength of his work, as well as its peculiar charms,\n    consist in his description of the experiences of a youth with\n    life under water in the luxuriant wealth of which he revels with\n    all the ardor of a poetical nature.\"--=New York Tribune.=\n\n=Our Bessie.= By ROSA N. CAREY. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price\n$1.00.\n\n    \"One of the most entertaining stories of the season, full of\n    vigorous action, and strong in character-painting. Elder girls\n    will be charmed with it, and adults may read its pages with\n    profit.\"--=The Teachers' Aid.=\n\n=Wild Kitty.= A Story of Middleton School. By L. T. MEADE. 12mo,\ncloth, illustrated, price $1.00.\n\n    \"Kitty is a true heroine--warm-hearted, self-sacrificing, and,\n    as all good women nowadays are, largely touched with the\n    enthusiasm of humanity. One of the most attractive gift books of\n    the season.\"--=The Academy.=\n\n=A Young Mutineer.= A Story for Girls. By L. T. MEADE. 12mo,\ncloth, illustrated, price $1.00.\n\n    \"One of Mrs. Meade's charming books for girls, narrated in that\n    simple and picturesque style which marks the authoress as one of\n    the first among writers for young people.\"--=The Spectator.=\n\n=Sue and I.= By MRS. O'REILLY. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75\ncents.\n\n    \"A thoroughly delightful book, full of sound wisdom as well as\n    fun.\"--=Athen\u00e6um.=\n\n=The Princess and the Goblin.= A Fairy Story. By GEORGE\nMACDONALD. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents.\n\n    \"If a child once begins this book, it will get so deeply\n    interested in it that when bedtime comes it will altogether\n    forget the moral, and will weary its parents with importunities\n    for just a few minutes more to see how everything\n    ends.\"--=Saturday Review.=\n\n=Pythia's Pupils=: A Story of a School. By EVA HARTNER. 12mo,\ncloth, illustrated, price $1.00.\n\n    \"This story of the doings of several bright school girls is sure\n    to interest girl readers. Among many good stories for girls this\n    is undoubtedly one of the very best.\"--=Teachers' Aid.=\n\n=A Story of a Short Life.= By JULIANA HORATIA EWING. 12mo, cloth,\nillustrated, price $1.00.\n\n    \"The book is one we can heartily recommend, for it is not only\n    bright and interesting, but also pure and healthy in tone and\n    teaching.\"--=Courier.=\n\n=The Sleepy King.= A Fairy Tale. By AUBREY HOPWOOD AND SEYMOUR\nHICKS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents.\n\n    \"Wonderful as the adventures of Bluebell are, it must be\n    admitted that they are very naturally worked out and very\n    plausibly presented. Altogether this is an excellent story for\n    girls.\"--=Saturday Review.=\n\n=Two Little Waifs.= By MRS. MOLESWORTH. 12mo, cloth, illustrated,\nprice 75 cents.\n\n    \"Mrs. Molesworth's delightful story of 'Two Little Waifs' will\n    charm all the small people who find it in their stockings. It\n    relates the adventures of two lovable English children lost in\n    Paris, and is just wonderful enough to pleasantly wring the\n    youthful heart.\"--=New York Tribune.=\n\n=Adventures in Toyland.= By EDITH KING HALL. 12mo, cloth,\nillustrated, price 75 cents.\n\n    \"The author is such a bright, cheery writer, that her stories\n    are always acceptable to all who are not confirmed cynics, and\n    her record of the adventures is as entertaining and enjoyable as\n    we might expect.\"--=Boston Courier.=\n\n=Adventures in Wallypug Land.= By G. E. FARROW. 12mo, cloth,\nillustrated, price 75 cents.\n\n    \"These adventures are simply inimitable, and will delight boys\n    and girls of mature age, as well as their juniors. No happier\n    combination of author and artist than this volume presents could\n    be found to furnish healthy amusement to the young folks. The\n    book is an artistic one in every sense.\"--=Toronto Mail.=\n\n=Fussbudget's Folks.= A Story for Young Girls. By ANNA F.\nBURNHAM. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.\n\n    \"Mrs. Burnham has a rare gift for composing stories for\n    children. With a light, yet forcible touch, she paints sweet and\n    artless, yet natural and strong,\n    characters.\"--=Congregationalist.=\n\n=Mixed Pickles.= A Story for Girls. By MRS. E. M. FIELD. 12mo,\ncloth, illustrated, price 75 cents.\n\n    \"It is, in its way, a little classic, of which the real beauty\n    and pathos can hardly be appreciated by young people. It is not\n    too much to say of the story that it is perfect of its\n    kind.\"--=Good Literature.=\n\n=Miss Mouse and Her Boys.= A Story for Girls, By MRS. MOLESWORTH.\n12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents.\n\n    \"Mrs. Molesworth's books are cheery, wholesome, and particularly\n    well adapted to refined life. It is safe to add that she is the\n    best English prose writer for children. A new volume from Mrs.\n    Molesworth is always a treat.\"--=The Beacon.=\n\n=Gilly Flower.= A Story for Girls. By the author of \"=Miss\nToosey's Mission=.\" 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.\n\n    \"Jill is a little guardian angel to three lively brothers who\n    tease and play with her.. .. Her unconscious goodness brings\n    right thoughts and resolves to several persons who come into\n    contact with her. There is no goodiness in this tale, but its\n    influence is of the best kind.\"--=Literary World.=\n\n=The Chaplet of Pearls=; or, The White and Black Ribaumont. By\nCHARLOTTE M. YONGE. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.\n\n    \"Full of spirit and life, so well sustained throughout that\n    grown-up readers may enjoy it as much as children. It is one of\n    the best books of the season.\"--=Guardian.=\n\n=Naughty Miss Bunny=: Her Tricks and Troubles. By CLARA\nMULHOLLAND. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents.\n\n    \"The naughty child is positively delightful. Papas should not\n    omit the book from their list of juvenile presents.\"--=Land and\n    Water.=\n\n=Meg's Friend.= By ALICE CORKRAN. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price\n$1.00.\n\n    \"One of Miss Corkran's charming books for girls, narrated in\n    that simple and picturesque style which marks the authoress as\n    one of the first among writers for young people.\"--=The\n    Spectator.=\n\n=Averil.= By ROSA N. CAREY. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price\n$1.00.\n\n    \"A charming story for young folks. Averil is a delightful\n    creature--piquant, tender, and true--and her varying fortunes\n    are perfectly realistic.\"--=World.=\n\n=Aunt Diana.= By ROSA N. CAREY. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price\n$1.00.\n\n    \"An excellent story, the interest being sustained from first to\n    last. This is, both in its intention and the way the story is\n    told, one of the best books of its kind which has come before us\n    this year.\"--=Saturday Review.=\n\n=Little Sunshine's Holiday=: A Picture from Life. By MISS MULOCK.\n12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents.\n\n    \"This is a pretty narrative of child life, describing the simple\n    doings and sayings of a very charming and rather precocious\n    child. This is a delightful book for young people.\"--=Gazette.=\n\n=Esther's Charge.= A Story for Girls. By ELLEN EVERETT GREEN.\n12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.\n\n    \"...This is a story showing in a charming way how one little\n    girl's jealousy and bad temper were conquered; one of the best,\n    most suggestive and improving of the Christmas juveniles.\"--=New\n    York Tribune.=\n\n=Fairy Land of Science.= By ARABELLA B. BUCKLEY. 12mo, cloth,\nillustrated, price $1.00.\n\n    \"We can highly recommend it; not only for the valuable\n    information it gives on the special subjects to which it is\n    dedicated, but also as a book teaching natural sciences in an\n    interesting way. A fascinating little volume, which will make\n    friends in every household in which there are children.\"--=Daily\n    News.=\n\n=Merle's Crusade.= By ROSA N. CAREY. 12mo, cloth, illustrated,\nprice $1.00.\n\n    \"Among the books for young people we have seen nothing more\n    unique than this book. Like all of this author's stories it will\n    please young readers by the very attractive and charming style\n    in which it is written.\"--=Journal.=\n\n=Birdie=: A Tale of Child Life. By H. L. CHILDE-PEMBERTON. 12mo,\ncloth, illustrated, price 75 cents.\n\n    \"The story is quaint and simple, but there is a freshness about\n    it that makes one hear again the ringing laugh and the cheery\n    shout of children at play which charmed his earlier\n    years.\"--=New York Express.=\n\n=The Days of Bruce=: A Story from Scottish History. By GRACE\nAGUILAR. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.\n\n    \"There is a delightful freshness, sincerity and vivacity about\n    all of Grace Aguilar's stories which cannot fail to win the\n    interest and admiration of every lover of good\n    reading.\"--=Boston Beacon.=\n\n=Three Bright Girls=: A Story of Chance and Mischance. By ANNIE\nE. ARMSTRONG. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.\n\n    \"The charm of the story lies in the cheery helpfulness of spirit\n    developed in the girls by their changed circumstances; while the\n    author finds a pleasant ending to all their happy makeshifts.\n    The story is charmingly told, and the book can be warmly\n    recommended as a present for girls.\"--=Standard.=\n\n=Giannetta=: A Girl's Story of Herself. By ROSA MULHOLLAND. 12mo,\ncloth, illustrated, price $1.00.\n\n    \"Extremely well told and full of interest. Giannetta is a true\n    heroine--warm-hearted, self-sacrificing, and, as all good women\n    nowadays are, largely touched with enthusiasm of humanity. The\n    illustrations are unusually good. One of the most attractive\n    gift books of the season.\"--=The Academy.=\n\n=Margery Merton's Girlhood.= By ALICE CORKRAN. 12mo, cloth,\nillustrated, price $1.00.\n\n    \"The experiences of an orphan girl who in infancy is left by her\n    father to the care of an elderly aunt residing near Paris. The\n    accounts of the various persons who have an after influence on\n    the story are singularly vivid. There is a subtle attraction\n    about the book which will make it a great favorite with\n    thoughtful girls.\"--=Saturday Review.=\n\n=Under False Colors=: A Story from Two Girls' Lives. By SARAH\nDOUDNEY. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.\n\n    \"Sarah Doudney has no superior as a writer of high-toned\n    stories--pure in style, original in conception, and with\n    skillfully wrought out plots; but we have seen nothing equal in\n    dramatic energy to this book.\"--=Christian Leader.=\n\n=Down the Snow Stairs=; or, From Good-night to Good-morning. By\nALICE CORKRAN. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents.\n\n    \"Among all the Christmas volumes which the year has brought to\n    our table this one stands out =facile princeps=--a gem of the\n    first water, bearing upon every one of its pages the signet mark\n    of genius.. .. All is told with such simplicity and perfect\n    naturalness that the dream appears to be a solid reality. It is\n    indeed a Little Pilgrim's Progress.\"--=Christian Leader.=\n\n=The Tapestry Room=: A Child's Romance. By MRS. MOLESWORTH. 12mo,\ncloth, illustrated, price 75 cents.\n\n    \"Mrs. Molesworth is a charming painter of the nature and ways of\n    children; and she has done good service in giving us this\n    charming juvenile which will delight the young\n    people.\"--=Athen\u00e6um, London.=\n\n=Little Miss Peggy=: Only a Nursery Story. By MRS. MOLESWORTH.\n12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents.\n\n    Mrs. Molesworth's children are finished studies. A joyous\n    earnest spirit pervades her work, and her sympathy is unbounded.\n    She loves them with her whole heart, while she lays bare their\n    little minds, and expresses their foibles, their faults, their\n    virtues, their inward struggles, their conception of duty, and\n    their instinctive knowledge of the right and wrong of things.\n    She knows their characters, she understands their wants, and she\n    desires to help them.\n\n=Polly=: A New Fashioned Girl. By L. T. MEADE. 12mo, cloth,\nillustrated, price $1.00.\n\n    Few authors have achieved a popularity equal to Mrs. Meade as a\n    writer of stories for young girls. Her characters are living\n    beings of flesh and blood, not lay figures of conventional type.\n    Into the trials and crosses, and everyday experiences, the\n    reader enters at once with zest and hearty sympathy. While Mrs.\n    Meade always writes with a high moral purpose, her lessons of\n    life, purity and nobility of character are rather inculcated by\n    example than intruded as sermons.\n\n=One of a Covey.= By the author of \"Miss Toosey's Mission.\" 12mo,\ncloth, illustrated, price 75 cents.\n\n    \"Full of spirit and life, so well sustained throughout that\n    grown-up readers may enjoy it as much as children. This 'Covey'\n    consists of the twelve children of a hard-pressed Dr. Partridge\n    out of which is chosen a little girl to be adopted by a spoiled,\n    fine lady. We have rarely read a story for boys and girls with\n    greater pleasure. One of the chief characters would not have\n    disgraced Dickens' pen.\"--=Literary World.=\n\n=The Little Princess of Tower Hill.= By L. T. MEADE. 12mo, cloth,\nillustrated, price 75 cents.\n\n    \"This is one of the prettiest books for children published, as\n    pretty as a pond-lily, and quite as fragrant. Nothing could be\n    imagined more attractive to young people than such a combination\n    of fresh pages and fair pictures; and while children will\n    rejoice over it--which is much better than crying for it--it is\n    a book that can be read with pleasure even by older boys and\n    girls.\"--=Boston Advertiser.=\n\n\nFor sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by\nthe publisher, =A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York=.\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's Note:\n\n\nArchaic and inconsistent spelling and punctuation retained.","title":"Rudy and Babette; Or, The Capture of the Eagle's Nest","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":36744}