6. The visit to the mill
‘What treasures you’re bringing home!’ said Rudy’s old foster-mother, and her strange eagle eyes flashed, and she moved her scraggy neck more quickly than ever in peculiar twists and turns. ‘You’ve got good fortune on your side, Rudy. I must kiss you, my sweet boy!’
And Rudy let himself be kissed, but it was clear from his face that he was submitting to circumstances, domestic life’s little trials! ‘How good-looking you are!’ said the old woman.
‘Don’t get me believing that!’ said Rudy, laughing, but pleased nonetheless.
‘I’ll say it again,’ said the old woman, ‘you’ve got good fortune on your side!’
‘Well, I agree with you there!’ he said, and thought of Babette.
Never before had he longed as much as now for the deep valley.
‘They must have arrived home!’ he said to himself, ‘it’s already two days later than when they intended to be back. I must go to Bex.’
And Rudy went to Bex, and the miller and his daughter were at home. They made him very welcome, and he was given warm regards from the family in Interlaken. Babette didn’t talk much, she had become quite tongue-tied, but her eyes spoke, and that was perfectly sufficient for Rudy. The miller, who normally liked to do the talking – he was accustomed to people laughing at all his quips and puns; he was the rich miller, was he not? – seemed to prefer to listen instead to Rudy recounting hunting stories: the difficulties and dangers the chamois-hunters confront up on the high mountain peaks, and how you must go down on all fours when approaching the treacherous snow cornices which wind and weather fasten to the mountain edge, and then go on all fours again when crossing those makeshift bridges the snowdrift has thrown across the deep chasms. Rudy looked so dashing as with brightly shining eyes he talked about his hunter’s life, the chamois’ cleverness and audacious leaps, the mighty Föhn and the rolling avalanches. He correctly noticed that with every fresh description he was winning over the miller more and more, and that what particularly appealed to him was the account of the vulture and the bold king-eagle.
Not far away, but inside Canton Valais, there was an eagle’s nest built in very deftly under the overhanging edge of the mountain. There was a young bird up there, which nobody had caught. A few days earlier an Englishman had offered Rudy a whole heap of gold for capturing the young one alive. ‘But there are limits to everything,’ Rudy said, ‘the eaglet there is simply not for taking. It would be crazy to let oneself in for such a thing.’
And the wine flowed and the conversation flowed, but the evening was all too short for Rudy, and indeed it was gone midnight when he brought this first visit to the mill to an end.
The lights shone on for a little while through the window and among the green branches. From the open hatch the Parlour Cat came out onto the roof and by way of the guttering the Kitchen Cat did the same.
‘Do you know the latest news from inside the mill?’ said the Parlour Cat. ‘A private engagement is underway in this very house! The Old Man doesn’t know about it yet. All evening long Rudy and Babette have been making contact under the table with their paws – I mean, their feet! They trod on me twice, but I didn’t so much as miaow; it’d only have drawn attention.’
‘I would have miaowed!’ said the Kitchen Cat.
‘Yes, but how you behave in the kitchen isn’t how you behave in the parlour!’ said the Parlour Cat, ‘I only wonder what the miller will say when he hears about the engagement.’
Yes, what would the miller say, that was what Rudy was wondering too, but he found himself unable to wait long before knowing. And so, not many days later, when the omnibus rumbled over the Rhône bridge between Valais and Vaud, Rudy was sitting on it in as good spirits as ever, and full of pleasant thoughts about getting consent this very evening.
And when the evening had been and gone, and the omnibus was making the same way back, yes, once again Rudy was sitting on it, just as before except that at the mill the Parlour Cat was spreading news:
‘Have you heard, you kitchen creature you? The miller now knows everything. It’s come to a fine old pass. Rudy arrived here towards evening, and he and Babette had a great deal to huddle together and whisper about. They were standing for quite a while right outside the door to the miller’s private room. I was lying at their feet, but they’d neither eyes nor thoughts for me. “I’m going straight in to your father!” said Rudy, “it’s a just cause.” “Shall I come with you?” said Babette, “it’ll give you courage!” “I’ve plenty enough courage of my own,” said Rudy, “but if you were with me, he’d have to look kindly on us whether he wants to or not.”
‘And so they went in, Rudy stepping on me very heavily in the hall; Rudy can be unspeakably clumsy. I miaowed, but neither he nor Babette had ears to hear me. They opened the door, the two of them went inside, with me going in front. But I jumped up onto the back of a chair, I couldn’t know whether Rudy would be giving out kicks of some kind. But it was the miller who did the kicking. It was a terrific kick too. Out through the door and up into the mountains with the chamois! It’s them Rudy has to aim at now, and not our little Babette.’
‘But what was actually said?’ asked the Kitchen Cat.
‘Said! – Everything was said, the sort of things people say when they’re proposing marriage. “I’m fond of her, and she’s fond of me!” And “When there’s milk in the churn for one, there’s also milk in the churn for two!”
‘“But she has a very high position socially,” the miller said, “she’s right up there with my grain, my golden grain. You know perfectly well you don’t come anywhere near her!”
‘“But nothing’s too high up to reach when you’ve a mind to!” said Rudy, for he’s very quick on the draw.
‘“Well, the eaglet – you can’t reach him; you admitted as much when you were here last. And Babette’s position is higher still.”
‘“I’m going to get both of them!” said Rudy.
‘“All right, I’ll make you a present of her when you’ve made me a present of the young eagle alive,” said the miller, and laughed so that tears streamed down his face. “But thanks very much for your visit, Rudy! Come again tomorrow morning, and you’ll find nobody at home. Goodbye, Rudy!”
‘And Babette said goodbye too, as pathetic as a little kitten who can’t see her mother. “When a man’s a man his word’s his word!” said Rudy. “Don’t cry, Babette, I’ll bring you the eaglet.”
‘“You’ll break your neck, I hope!” said the miller, “and then we’ll have got you well and truly out of the way!”
‘That’s what I call a thorough kicking. Rudy has now taken himself off, and Babette is sitting and sobbing, but the miller is singing a German song that he’s learned on his travels. I won’t grieve over it all, it wouldn’t help.’
‘But it’s always good to give a show of doing so,’ said the Kitchen Cat.
7. The eagle’s nest
From the mountain path the yodelling rang out so merry and full-bodied it suggested high spirits and intrepid courage. It was Rudy; he’d gone to see his friend Vesinand.
‘You have to help me! We’ll take Ragli along too. I’ve got to get hold of the young eagle up on the mountain edge.’
‘Wouldn’t you like to get hold of the dark side of the moon first? It’s every bit as easy!’ said Vesinand. ‘You seem in a very good mood, Rudy!’
‘Yes, because I’m thinking of getting married. But right now, speaking seriously, you’d better know how matters stand with me.’
And soon Vesinand and Ragli knew what it was that Rudy wanted.
‘You’re a real daredevil!’ they said, ‘it won’t work! You’ll break your neck!’
‘You don’t fall when you don’t think you’re going to,’ said Rudy.
Towards midnight they set off, taking with them poles, ladders and rope. Their route led between thickets and bushes, across crumbly stones, always upwards, up into the dark night. Down below the water roared, up
above the water murmured, rain-clouds drifted through the air. The hunters reached the precipitous mountain edge. It became darker here; the mountain-walls all but met at this point, and only high up, through the narrow crack between them, did the sky show any light at all. Close by, beneath the three young men, was a deep abyss full of torrential water. All three sat there motionless. They’d wait for dawn, when the adult eagle would fly out. She had to be shot first, before there could be any notion of taking the young one. Rudy squatted as still as if he were a portion of the stone he was sitting on. He had his gun in front of him, poised to shoot, his eyes intently on the furthermost cleft where, inside, under the overhanging cliff, the eagle’s nest was hidden. The three hunters waited for a long time.
Now, high above them, came a whizzing, rushing noise. A huge object hovering overhead intensified the darkness. Two gun-barrels took aim as the black eagle-shape flew out of the nest. One shot was fired. For a moment the outstretched wings flapped, and then slowly the bird went down. With its vast body-dimensions and its great wingspan it would surely fill the entire ravine, and in its fall sweep the hunters away. But the eagle sank into the abyss; there was a groaning in the tree-branches and bushes which were broken by the bird’s fall.
And now hectic activity began. Three of the longest ladders were tied together; they had to reach the top. The ladders were set in place on the outermost, last foothold on the edge of the precipice, but they did not reach the top; and the long stretch of cliff higher up, where the nest was hidden in the lee of the furthest jutting protrusion of rock, was as smooth as any ordinary house-wall. After some deliberation the young men agreed they couldn’t do better than to hoist from above two ladders tied together down into the ravine, and then connect these to the three that had already been positioned from below. With great difficulty they dragged the two ladders further up, and there made the ropes fast. Then the ladders were pushed out over the overhanging cliff and so hung freely over the chasm; Rudy was already sitting there on the lowest rung. It was a freezing cold morning, the cloudy mist was drifting downwards from the black cleft. Rudy sat out there like a fly sitting on the bobbing straw that some nest-building bird has dropped on the rim of a tall factory-chimney. But the fly can fly away when the straw begins to slacken, Rudy could only break his neck. The wind was whistling round him, and down in the abyss the hurry-scurrying water roared out from the thaw-beset glacier, the Ice Virgin’s palace.
Now he set the ladder in a swinging movement, like a spider’s web which by means of its long, stretching thread can grip tightly, and when Rudy, at the fourth attempt, touched the tip of the ladders that had been put in place from below and tied together, he got a good hold of them. They were then joined up with strong, confident hands, though they continued to swing as though on worn-out hinges.
The five long ladders now seemed like one long swaying bamboo plant which, leaning against the rock-wall perpendicularly, reached up very close to the eagle’s nest. Now, though, came the most dangerous part: having to crawl as the cat crawls. But Rudy knew how to do this; the tomcat had taught him. He didn’t even feel Her Dizziness treading the air behind him, and stretching out her polyp’s arms after him. He was now standing on the ladder’s topmost rung, and noticed that even here he hadn’t got up high enough to see inside the nest. He could reach it with his hand only. He tested how firm its lowest part was, the thick branches woven together which formed the bottom of the nest. And when he had got secure hold of a stout, trustworthy branch, he swung himself up off the ladder, his body against the branch, until he had his torso and head over the nest itself.
But here a suffocating stench of carrion streamed forth to greet him. Putrescent lambs, chamois and birds lay here dismembered. Her Dizziness, who had not as yet been strong enough to affect him, blew the noxious vapours in his face for him to go giddy, and fall down into the black, gaping deep, into the furious water on which the Ice Virgin herself was sitting, with her long white-green hair, staring with dead eyes like two gun-barrels.
‘Now I’ll take you captive!’
In a corner of the eagle’s nest Rudy saw sitting, large and powerful, the young eagle who was as yet unable to fly. Rudy fixed his eyes on him, held himself with one hand as strongly as he could, and then with his other hand threw a noose round the eaglet. The bird was captured very much alive, his legs caught in the ever-tightening cord. And Rudy slung the noose with the bird in it over his shoulder so that the creature could dangle a good way below him, as now, with the aid of a lowered rope, he held on fast till the tips of his feet gained the topmost rung of the ladder once more.
‘Hold tight. Don’t think you’re going to fall, and fall you won’t!’ It was the old piece of wisdom, and he followed it. Held on tightly, then crawled, was convinced he wouldn’t fall, and fall he did not.
Now a great yodel burst out, very strong and cheery. Rudy was standing on firm rocky ground with his young eagle.
8. What the Parlour Cat had to tell
‘Here’s what you asked for!’ said Rudy, coming into the miller’s house in Bex and putting a large cage down on the floor. He removed the cloth covering it, and two yellow, black-encircled eyes glared out, so brilliant and so savage, as if eager to burn and take hold wherever they looked. The short, strong beak was opening to bite, the neck was red and downy.
‘The eaglet!’ the miller exclaimed. Babette gave a scream and jumped to one side, but she could not keep her eyes either from Rudy or from the young eagle.
‘Well, you didn’t let yourself get scared!’ said the miller.
‘And you’re somebody who always keeps his word,’ said Rudy, ‘everyone’s got his own special characteristic!’
‘But how come you didn’t break your neck?’ asked the miller.
‘Because I held on tight,’ replied Rudy, ‘and that’s what I’m still doing. I’m holding on tight to Babette.’
‘Why don’t you see first whether you’ve got her!’ said the miller, and laughed, and that was a good sign, Babette knew.
‘Let’s take the young eagle out of his cage. It’s dangerous just to look at the way he glowers! However did you catch him?’’
And Rudy had to tell the story, and the miller’s eyes got bigger and bigger as he did so.
‘With your guts and your good luck you could provide for three wives,’ said the miller.
‘Thank you, thanks a lot!’ exclaimed Rudy.
‘Yes, but you still don’t have Babette yet,’ said the miller, and he clapped Rudy on the shoulder in jest.
‘Do you know the news from the mill?’ said the Parlour Cat to the Kitchen Cat, ‘Rudy’s brought us a young eagle, and is now taking Babette in exchange. They’ve kissed one another, and in front of Father! It’s as good as an engagement. The Old Man didn’t do any kicking, he’s drawn in his claws, and has now taken an after-dinner nap and left the two of them to sit and spoon. They have such a lot to talk about, they won’t be through by Christmas.’
And they weren’t through by Christmas! The wind whirled the brown leaves, the snow drifted into the valley from the high mountains. The Ice Virgin sat in her splendid palace, which expands in size in winter-time. The rock-walls stood with black ice coating and icicles thick as your arm and as heavy as an elephant, there where in summer the mountain stream waves its watery veils. Ice garlands formed by fantastic crystals shone above the snow-powdered spruce trees.
The Ice Virgin went riding on the tearing wind across the deepest valleys. The carpet of snow stretched out all the way down to Bex. She was able to come and peer in on Rudy who was indoors far more than he was ever used to being; he was making himself at home at Babette’s. The wedding would take place in the summer. So frequently did their friends talk about it that the pair’s ears would often be buzzing. Sunshine came, the loveliest Alpine rose glowed, that is to say the happy, laughing Babette herself, delightful as the spring, which duly arrived, spring which made all the birds sing till summer-time about the wedding-day.
&nb
sp; ‘How can the two of them just sit there and breathe down each other’s necks!’ said the Parlour Cat, ‘I’m even bored with miaowing now!’
9. The Ice Virgin
Spring had brought out its lush green festoon of walnut and chestnut trees. It was especially profuse, from the bridge at St Maurice to Lake Geneva, all along the Rhône, which shot forth with tremendous speed from its source, the green glacier, the Ice Palace where the Ice Virgin lives. From here she lets the keen wind carry her up to the most distant snowfield to stretch out in the strong sunlight on snowdrift bolsters. There she sat and looked with far-distance vision down into the deep valley, where human beings, like ants on a sun-kissed stone, were busily at work.
‘Powers of the Mind! – as the Children of the Sun call you!’ said the Ice Virgin, ‘you’re vermin! One rolling snowball of mine, and you and your houses and towns are crushed and obliterated!’ And she raised her proud head higher and looked far and wide and deep downwards with her death-dealing eyes. But from the valley a great rumbling sounded, an explosion of rocks, human activity: the tracks and tunnels for the railway were under construction.
‘They’re playing at being moles!’ she said, ‘they’re digging passageways; that’s why you hear a noise like gunshots. Whereas when I move my castle, you hear a roaring greater even than thunderbolts.’
From the valley a column of smoke rose up. It moved forwards like a fluttering veil, a waving plume, from the engine which, down on the newly-opened railway, was pulling the train, this winding snake whose joints were carriages linked to one another. Like an arrow it shot ahead.
‘The Powers of the Mind are playing at being lords-and-masters!’ said the Ice Virgin, ‘however, the powers of Nature’s forces are the ones getting their way.’ And she laughed and she sang, the sound ringing out in the valley.