happened for Rudy and me. No one knows his future!” And in godless grief she threw herself into the deep ravine. A string snapped, a song of sorrow sounded.
Babette woke up. The dream was over and forgotten, but she knew she had dreamed something terrible and dreamed about the young Englishman, whom she hadn’t seen or thought about for several months. Was he in Montreux? Would she see him at the wedding? A little shadow passed over her fine mouth, and she frowned. But soon she was smiling, and her eyes were sparkling again. The sun was shining so beautifully outside, and tomorrow was she and Rudy’s wedding day.
He was already in the living room when she came down, and soon they were off for Villeneuve. They were both so happy, and so was the miller. He laughed and beamed with the greatest good humor. He was a good father and an honest soul.
“Now we’re the masters of the house,” said the housecat.
15. THE END
It was not yet evening when the three happy people reached Villeneuve and had dinner. The miller sat in an easy chair with his pipe and took a little nap. The young couple walked arm in arm out of the town, on the road under the cliffs covered with bushes, along the deep blue-green lake. The sinister Chillon with its grey walls and thick towers was reflected in the clear water. Even closer was the little island with the three acacia trees. It looked like a bouquet on the water.
“It must be lovely over there,” said Babette. She once again had such a strong wish to visit the little island, and that wish could be fulfilled at once. There was a boat by the bank. The rope that held it was easy to loosen. They didn’t see anyone to ask for permission, so they just took the boat. Rudy knew how to row.
The oars caught the yielding water like the fins of a fish. Water is so soft and yet so strong. It has a back to bear weight, and a mouth with which to swallow. Gently smiling, softness itself and yet a terror, with shattering strength. There was a foamy wake following the boat that reached the little island within a few minutes, and the two went ashore. There was only enough room for the two of them to dance.
Rudy swung Babette around two or three times, and then they sat down on the little bench under the overhanging acacia trees. They gazed into each other’s eyes, held each other’s hands, and everything around them shone in the splendor of the setting sun. The fir forests on the mountains had a violet cast that made them look like blooming heather, and the rocky stones above the tree line glowed as if the mountain were transparent. The clouds in the sky were lit up like red fire, and the whole lake was like a fresh, blooming rose petal. As the shadows rose higher and higher up the snow-capped Savoy mountains, these turned to dark blue, but the highest peaks shone like red lava. It was as if they repeated a moment from their creation, when these massive mountains rose up glowing from the earth’s womb, still burning. It was an
“What beauty! What happiness!” they both said. “The world has nothing more to give me,” said Rudy. “An evening like this is really a whole life. How often have I sensed my joy, as I sense it now and thought that if everything were to end, what a happy life I have had! How blessed this world is! And that day was over, but a new one began and I thought
“I am so happy,” she said.
“The world has nothing more to give me,” exclaimed Rudy.
And the evening bells rang from the mountains of Savoy, from the Swiss mountains. In golden glory the dark black Jura mountains rose up in the west.
“May God give you the most wonderful and best!” Babette exclaimed.
“He will!” said Rudy. “Tomorrow I’ll have it. Tomorrow you’ll be all mine. My own lovely little wife.”
“The boat!” screamed Babette at the same time.
The boat that was to ferry them back had torn loose and was drifting away from the island.
“I’ll get it,” said Rudy. He cast off his jacket, tore off his boots, and ran into the lake, swimming swiftly towards the boat.
Cold and deep was the clear blue-green ice water from the mountain glaciers. Rudy looked down into it, only a single glance, and it was as if he saw a gold ring roll, gleam, and sparkle. He thought about his lost engagement ring, and the ring became bigger, and widened out into a glittering circle. Inside of it the clear glacier was shining. Infinitely deep crevices were gaping all around, and water dripped tinkling like a carillon, and shining with white- blue flames. He saw in an instant what we must describe in many long words. Young hunters and young girls, men and women—those who at one time had sunk in the glacier’s crevasses—stood here alive with open eyes and smiling mouths. And deep under them sounded church bells from buried towns. The congregation kneeled under the church vault. The mountain stream played the organ, whose pipes were pieces of ice. The Ice Maiden sat on the clear, transparent floor. She rose up towards Rudy, kissed his feet, and an icy chill shot through his limbs—an electric shock—ice and fire! You can’t tell the difference from a quick touch.
“Mine! Mine!” resounded around him and inside him. “I kissed you when you were little! Kissed you on the lips! Now I kiss your toes and heel. You are solely mine!”
And he was gone in the clear, blue water.
Everything was still. The church bells stopped ringing. The last tones disappeared with the radiance on the red clouds.
“You’re mine!” resounded in the depths. “You’re mine!” resounded in the heights, from the eternal.
It’s lovely to fly from love to love, from the earth into heaven.
A string snapped. A song of sorrow sounded. The kiss of death conquered the perishable. The prologue ended so that the drama of life could begin. Disharmony dissolved in harmony.
Would you call this a sad story?
Poor Babette! For her it was a time of terror. The boat drifted further and further away. No one on land knew that the couple had gone to the little island. Evening came. The clouds descended, and it got dark. Alone and despairing she stood there moaning. There was a devilish storm brewing. Lighting flashed over the Jura mountains, over Switzerland, and over the Savoy. Flash after flash on all sides—thunder boom after boom, rolling into each
