Home > Authors Index > Hans Christian Andersen > Ice-Maiden > This page
The Ice-Maiden, a fiction by Hans Christian Andersen |
||
IV. BABETTE |
||
| < Previous |
Table of content |
Next > |
|
________________________________________________
_ IV. BABETTE Who is the best shot in Canton Valais? The chamois knew only too well: "Beware of Rudy!" they could say. Who is the handsomest hunter?--"It is Rudy." The young girls said this also, but they did not say: "Beware of Rudy!" No, not even the grave mothers, for he nodded to them quite as amicably as to the young girls. He was so bold and gay, his cheeks were brown, his teeth fresh and white and his coal-black eyes glittered; he was a handsome young fellow and but twenty years old. The icy water did not sting him when he swam, he could turn around in it like a fish; he could climb as did no one, and he was as firm on the rocky walls as a snail--for he had good sinews and muscles that served him well in leaping--the cat had first taught him this, and later the chamois. One could not trust one's self to a better guide than to Rudy. In this way he could collect quite a fortune, but he had no taste for the trade of a cooper, which his uncle had taught him; his delight and pleasure was to shoot chamois, and this was profitable also. Rudy was a good match if one did not look higher than one's station, and in dancing he was just the kind of dancer that young girls dream about, and one or the other were always thinking of him when they were awake. "He kissed me whilst dancing!" said the schoolmaster's Annette to her most intimate friend, but she should not have said this, not even to her dearest friend, but it is difficult to keep such things to one's self--like sand in a purse with a hole in it, it soon runs out--and although Rudy was so steady and good it was soon known that he kissed whilst dancing. "Watch him," said an old hunter, "he has commenced with A, and he will kiss the whole alphabet through!" A kiss, at a dance, was all they could say in their gossipping, but he had kissed Annette, and she was by no means the flower of his heart. Down near Bex, between the great walnut trees, close by a rapid little stream, dwelt the rich miller. The dwelling-house was a large three-storied building, with little towers covered with wood and coated with sheets of lead, which shone in the sunshine and in the moonshine; the largest tower had for a weather-cock a bright arrow which pierced an apple and which was intended to represent the apple shot by Tell. The mill looked neat and comfortable, so that it was really worth describing and drawing, but the miller's daughter could neither be described nor drawn, at least so said Rudy. Yet she was imprinted in his heart, and her eyes acted as a fire-brand upon it, and this had happened suddenly and unexpectedly. The most wonderful part of all was, that the miller's daughter, the pretty Babette, thought not of him, for she and Rudy had never even spoken two words with each other. The miller was rich, and riches placed her much too high to be approached; "but no one," said Rudy to himself, "is placed so high as to be unapproachable; one must climb and one does not fall, when one does not think of it." _This_ knowledge he had brought from home with him. Now it so happened that Rudy had business at Bex and it was quite a journey there, for the railroad was not completed. The broad valley of Valais stretches itself from the glaciers of the Rhone, under the foot of the Simplon-mountain, between many varying mountain-heights, with its mighty river, the Rhone, which often swells and destroys everything, overflooding fields and roads. The valley makes a bend, between the towns of Sion and St. Maurice, like an elbow and becomes so narrow at Maurice, that there only remains sufficient room for the river bed and a cart way. Here an old tower stands like a sentry before the Canton Valais; it ends at this point and overlooks the bridge, which has a wall towards the custom-house. Now begins the Canton called Pays de Vaud and the nearest town is Bex, where everything becomes luxuriant and fruitful--one is in a garden of walnut and chestnut trees and here and there, cypress and pomegranate blossoms peep out--it is as warm as the South; one imagines one's self transplanted into Italy. Rudy reached Bex, accomplished his business and looked about him, but he did not see a single miller's boy, not to speak of Babette. It appeared as though they were not to meet. It was evening, the air was heavy with the wild thyme and blooming linden, a glistening veil lay over the forest-clad mountains, there was a stillness over everything, but not the quiet of sleep. It seemed as though all nature retained her breath, as if she felt disposed to allow her image to be imprinted upon the firmament. Here and there, there were poles standing on the green fields, between the trees; they held the telegraph wire, which has been conducted through this peaceful valley. An object leant against one of these poles, so immoveable, that one might have taken it for a withered trunk of a tree; but it was Rudy. He slept not and still less was he dead; but as the most important events of this earth, as well as affairs of vital moment for individuals pass over the wires, without their giving out a tone or a tremulous movement, even so flashed through Rudy, thoughts--powerful, overwhelming, speaking of the happiness of his life; his, henceforth, "_constant thought_." His eyes were fixed upon a point in the trellis-work, and this was a light in Babette's sitting room. Rudy was so motionless, one might have thought that he was observing a chamois, in order to shoot it. Now, however, he was like the chamois--which appears sculptured on the rock, and suddenly if a stone rolls, springs and flies away--thus stood Rudy, until a thought struck him. "Never despair," said he. "I shall make a visit to the mill, and say: Good evening miller, good evening Babette! One does not fall when one does not think of it! Babette must see me, if I am to be her husband!" And Rudy laughed, was of good cheer and went to the mill; he knew what he wanted, he wanted Babette. The river, with its yellowish white water rolled on; the willow trees and the lindens bowed themselves deep in the hastening water; Rudy went along the path, and as it says in the old child's song: ---- ---- ---- Zu des Muellers Haus, The house-cat stood on the step, put up her back and said: "Miau!" but Rudy had no thoughts for her language, he knocked, no one heard, no one opened. "Miau!" said the cat. If Rudy had been little, he would have understood the speech of animals and known that the cat told him: "There is no one at home!" He was obliged to cross over to the mill, to make inquiries, and here he had news. The master of the house was away on a journey, far away in the town of Interlaken--_inter lacus_, "between the lakes"--as the school-master, Annette's father, had explained, in his wisdom. Far away was the miller and Babette with him; there was to be a shooting festival, which was to commence on the following day and to continue for a whole week. The Swiss from all the German cantons were to meet there. Poor Rudy, one could well say that he had not taken the happiest time to visit Bex; now he could return and that was what he did. He took the road over Sion and St. Maurice, back to his own valley, back to his own mountain, but he was not down-cast. On the following morning, when the sun rose, his good humour had returned, in fact it had never left him. "Babette is in Interlaken, many a day's journey from here!" said he to himself, "it is a long road thither, if one goes by the highway, but not so far if one passes over the rocks and that is the road for a chamois hunter! I went this road formerly, for there is my home, where I lived with my grandfather when I was a little child, and they have a shooting festival in Interlaken! I will be the _first_ one there, and that will I be with Babette also, as soon as I have made her acquaintance!" With his light knapsack containing his Sunday clothes, with his gun and his huntsman's pouch, Rudy ascended the mountain. The short road, was a pretty long one, but the shooting-match had but commenced to-day and was to last more than a week; the miller and Babette were to remain the whole time, with their relations in Interlaken. Rudy crossed the Gemmi, for he wished to go to Grindelwald. He stepped forwards merry and well, out into the fresh, light mountain air. The valley sank beneath him, the horizon widened; here and there a snow-peak, and soon appeared the whole shining white alpine chain. Rudy knew every snow mountain, onward he strode towards the Schreckhorn, that elevates its white powdered snow-finger high in the air. At last he crossed the ridge of the mountain and the pasture-grounds and reached the valley of his home; the air was light and his spirits gay, mountain and valley stood resplendent with verdure and flowers. His heart was filled with youthful thoughts;--that one can never grow old, never die; but live, rule and enjoy;--free as a bird, light as a bird was he. The swallows flew by and sang as in his childhood: "We and you, and You and we!" All was happiness. Below lay the velvet-green meadow, with its brown wooden houses, the Luetschine hummed and roared. He saw the glacier with its green glass edges and its black crevices in the deep snow, and the under and upper glacier. The sound of the church-bells was carried over to him, as if they chimed a welcome home; his heart beat loudly and expanded, so, that for a moment, Babette vanished from it; his heart widened, it was so full of recollections. He retraced his steps, over the path, where he used to stand when a little boy, with the other children, on the edge of the ditch, and where he sold carved wooden houses. Yonder, under the fir-trees was his grandfather's house,--strangers dwelled there. Children came running up the path, wishing to sell; one of them held an alpine rose towards him. Rudy took it for a good omen and thought of Babette. Quickly he crossed the bridge, where the two Luetschines meet; the leafy trees had increased and the walnut trees gave deeper shade. He saw the streaming Swiss and Danish flags--the white cross on the red cloth--and Interlaken lay before him. It was certainly a magnificent town; like no other, it seemed to Rudy. A Swiss town in its Sunday dress, was not like other trading-places, a mass of black stone houses, heavy, uninviting and stiff. No! it looked as though the wooden houses, on the mountain had run down into the green valley, to the clear, swift river and had ranged themselves in a row--a little in and out--so as to form a street, the most splendid of all streets, which had grown up since Rudy was here as a child. It appeared to him, that here all the pretty wooden houses that his grandfather had carved, and with which the cup-board at home used to be filled, had placed themselves there and had grown in strength, as the old, the oldest chestnut trees had done. Each house had carved wood-work around the windows and balconies, projecting roofs, pretty and neat; in front of every house a little flower garden extended into the stone-covered street. The houses were all placed on one side, as if they wished to conceal the forest-green meadow, where the cows with their tinkling bells made one fancy one's self near the high alpine pasture-grounds. The meadow was enclosed with high mountains, that leaned to one side so that the Jungfrau, the most stately of the Swiss mountains, with its glistening snow-clad top, was visible. What a quantity of well dressed ladies and gentlemen from foreign countries! What multitudes of inhabitants from the different cantons! The shooters, with their numbers placed in a wreath around their hats, waiting to take their turn. Here was music and song, hurdy-gurdys and wind instruments, cries and confusion. The houses and bridges were decked with devices and verses; banners and flags floated, rifles sounded shot after shot; this was the best music to Rudy's ear and he entirely forgot Babette, although he had come for her sake. The marksmen thronged towards the spot where the target-shooting was; Rudy was soon among them and he was the best, the luckiest, for he always hit the mark. "Who can the strange hunter be?" they asked, "He speaks the French language as though he came from Canton Valais!" "He speaks our German very distinctly!" said others. "He is said to have lived in the neighbourhood of Grindelwald, when a child!" said one of them. There was life in the youth; his eyes sparkled, his aim was true. Good luck gives courage, and Rudy had courage at all times; he soon had a large circle of friends around him, they praised him, they did homage to him, and Babette had almost entirely left his thoughts. At that moment a heavy hand struck him on the shoulder, and a gruff voice addressed him in the French tongue: "You are from Canton Valais?" Rudy turned around. A stout person, with a red, contented countenance, stood by him and that was the rich miller of Bex. He covered with his wide body, the slight pretty Babette, who however, soon peeped out with her beaming dark eyes. The rich peasant became consequential because the hunter from his canton had made the best shot and was the honoured one. Rudy was certainly a favourite of fortune, that, for which he had journeyed thither and almost forgotten had sought him. When one meets a countryman far from one's home, why then one knows one another, and speaks together. Rudy was the first at the shooting festival and the miller was the first at Bex, through his money and mill, and so the two men pressed each other's hands: this they had never done before. Babette also, gave Rudy her little hand and he pressed her's in return and looked at her, so--that she became quite red. The miller told of the long journey which they had made here, of the many large towns which they had seen--that was a real journey; they had come in the steam-boat and had been driven by post and rail! "I came by the short road," said Rudy, "I came over the mountains; there is no path so high, that one can not reach it!" "But one can break one's neck," said the miller, "you look as though you would do so some day, you are so daring!" "One does not fall, when one does not think of it!" said Rudy. And the miller's family in Interlaken, with whom the miller and Babette were staying, begged Rudy to pay them a visit, for he was from the same canton as their relations. These were glad tidings for Rudy, fortune smiled upon him, as it always does on those that rely upon themselves and think upon the saying: "Our Lord gives us nuts, but he does not crack them for us!" Rudy made himself quite at home with the miller's relations; they drank the health of the best marksman. Babette knocked her glass against his and Rudy gave thanks for the honour shown him. In the evening, they all walked under the walnut trees, in front of the decorated hotels; there was such a crowd, such a throng, that Rudy was obliged to offer his arm to Babette. "He was so rejoiced to have met people from Pays de Vaud," said he, "Pays de Vaud and Valais were good neighbourly cantons." His joy was so profound that it struck Babette, she must press his hand. They walked along almost like old acquaintances; she was so amusing, the darling little creature, it became her so prettily Rudy thought, when she described what was laughable and overdone in the dress of the ladies, and ridiculed their manners and walk. She did not do this in order to mock them, for no doubt they were very good people, yes! kind and amiable. Babette knew what was right, for she had a god-mother that was a distinguished English lady. She was in Bex, eighteen years ago, when Babette was baptized; she had given Babette, the expensive breastpin which she wore. The god-mother had written her two letters; this year she was to meet her in Interlaken, with her daughters; they were old maids, over thirty years old, said Babette;--she was just eighteen. The sweet little mouth was not still a minute; everything that Babette said, sounded to Rudy of great importance. Then he related how often he had been in Bex, how well he knew the mill; how often he had seen Babette, but she of course had never remarked him; he told how, when he reached the mill, with many thoughts to which he could give no utterance, she and her father were far away; still not so far as to render it impossible for him to ascend the rocky wall which made the road so long. Yes, he said this; and he also said how much he thought of her; that it was for her sake and not on account of the shooting festival that he had come. Babette remained very still, for what he confided to her was almost too much joy. The sun set behind the rocky wall, whilst they were walking, and there stood the Jungfrau in all her radiant splendour, surrounded by the dark green circle of the adjacent mountains. The vast crowd of people stopped to look at it, Rudy and Babette also gazed upon its grandeur. "It is nowhere more beautiful than here!" said Babette. "Nowhere!" said Rudy, and looked at Babette. "I must leave to-morrow!" said he, a little later. "Visit us in Bex," whispered Babette, "it will delight my father!" FOOTNOTES: [B] |
||