roused him from his stillness, and made him bound forward with
determination to act.
“Never despair!” cried he. “A visit to the mill, to say good evening to the
miller, and good evening to little Babette, can do no harm. No one ever fails
who has confidence in himself. If I am to be Babette’s husband, I must see
her some time or other.”
Then Rudy laughed joyously, and took courage to go to the mill. He
knew what he wanted; he wanted to marry Babette. The clear water of the
river rolled over its yellow bed, and willows and lime-trees were reflected
in it, as Rudy stepped along the path to the miller’s house. But, as the
children sing:
“There was no one at home in the house,
Only a kitten at play.”
The cat standing on the steps put up its back and cried “mew.” But Rudy
had no inclination for this sort of conversation; he passed on, and knocked
at the door. No one heard him, no one opened the door. “Mew,” said the cat
again; and had Rudy been still a child, he would have understood this
language, and known that the cat wished to tell him there was no one at
home. So he was obliged to go to the mill and make inquiries, and there he
heard that the miller had gone on a journey to Interlachen, and taken
Babette with him, to the great shooting festival, which began that morning,
and would continue for eight days, and that people from all the German
settlements would be there.
Poor Rudy! we may well say. It was not a fortunate day for his visit to
Bex. He had just to return the way he came, through St. Maurice and Sion,
to his home in the valley. But he did not despair. When the sun rose the next
morning, his good spirits had returned; indeed he had never really lost them.
“Babette is at Interlachen,” said Rudy to himself, “many days’ journey from
here. It is certainly a long way for any one who takes the high-road, but not
so far if he takes a short cut across the mountain, and that just suits a
chamois-hunter. I have been that way before, for it leads to the home of my
