They were very cordially received. The godmother was a tall, kind lady with a round,
smiling face; as a child she must have been like one of Raphael's angel heads, but now she was an old angel head, as her silvery hair was quite curly. The daughters were handsome, delicate-looking, tall and slim. The young cousin, who was with them, was entirely dressed in white from top to toe, with yellow hair and whiskers, of which he had so much that it might have been divided between three gentlemen, and he at once paid great attention to little Babette.
Handsomely bound books, pieces of music, and drawings were spread over the large table, the balcony doors stood open overlooking the beautiful, extensive lake, which was so bright and still that the mountains of Savoy, with the country towns, woods, and snowy tops, were all reflected in it.
Rudy, who was always bold, lively, and confident, felt himself out of his element, as they say; and he moved about as if he were walking on peas on a smooth floor. How slowly the hours passed! as if on the treadmill. And now they went for a walk, and it was just as tedious; Rudy might have taken two steps forward and then one back, and still kept pace with the others. They walked down to Chillon, the old gloomy castle on the rock, to see the instruments of torture, and death-chambers, the rusty chains on the rocky walls, the stony bed for those sentenced to death, the trap-doors through which the unfortunate beings were precipitated downwards and impaled on the iron spikes amidst the surf. They called it delightful to see all this. It was a place of execution, elevated by Byron's song into the world of poetry. Rudy felt it altogether the scene of executions; he leaned against the great stone window-frames and looked into that deep, bluish-green water, and over to the little solitary island with the three acacias; he wished himself there, and away from the whole chattering party; but Babette felt herself particularly cheerful. She said she had been unusually entertained; she found the cousin perfect.
"Yes, a perfect chatterbox!" said Rudy; and it was the first time that Rudy said anything which displeased her. The Englishman had presented her with a little book as a memento of Chillon; it was a French version of Byron's poem, The Prisoner of Chillon , which Babette could read.
"The book may be good enough," said Rudy, "but I don't care for the much-combed fellow who gave it you."
"He seemed to me like a meal-sack without any meal!" said the miller, laughing at his own wit. Rudy also laughed, and said that it was very well put.
CHAPTER XI THE COUSIN
AThe mill was situated where the highroad from Bex runs under the snow-covered peak which, the country people call the Diablerets, not far from a rapid, grayish-white mountain stream, like foaming soap-suds. This did not drive the mill; it was driven by a lesser stream, which was precipitated from the rock on the other side of the river, and was dammed up by a stone wall so as to increase its force and headway, and carried into a closed wooden basin by a broad channel away over the rapid river. This channel was so abundantly supplied with water that it overflowed, and made a wet, slippery path for those who used it as a short cut to the mill. The idea occurred to the young Englishman to use it, and dressed in white, like a working miller, he clambered over in the evening, guided by the light shining from Babette's room. But he had not learnt to climb, and nearly went head-foremost into the stream, but escaped with wet
sleeves and bespattered trousers. Muddy and dirty he came below Babette's windows, clambered up into the old lime-tree and imitated the call of an owl, for he could not sing like any other bird. Babette heard it, and peeped through her thin curtains; but when she saw the white man, and easily guessed who it was, her little heart beat with fright and with resentment. She hastily put out her light, saw that all the window-bolts were fastened, and left him to hoot.
It would be terrible if Rudy were now in the mill, but Rudy was not in the mill; no, what was much worse, he was just below it. There was high talk, angry words; there would be fighting, perhaps murder.
Babette opened her window in alarm, called Rudy's name, and told him to go away.
"You will not let me stay!" he shouted; "then it is an appointment! You are expecting good friends, better than me! Shame on you, Babette!"
"You are detestable!" said Babette; "I hate you!" and now she was crying. "Go! go!"
"I have not deserved this treatment!" said he, and he went; his cheeks were like fire, his heart was like fire.
Babette flung herself on her bed, and wept.
"I love you so much, Rudy! and you can believe that of me!"
And she was angry, very angry, and that did her good, for otherwise she would have been deeply grieved; now she could fall asleep and sleep the invigorating sleep of youth.
CHAPTER XII THE POWERS OF EVIL
RUDYHigher up he saw two chamois. Rudy's eyes sparkled, his thoughts took a new flight; but he was not near enough to them for him to shoot with confidence; so he climbed higher, where only coarse grass grew among the blocks of stone; the chamois went placidly along the snow-fields. Rudy hurried on eagerly, surrounded by misty clouds, and on a sudden he stood in front of a precipitous rocky wall, and the rain began to fall in torrents.