At the mill
"What strange creatures human beings are," said the parlor-cat to the
kitchen-cat; "Babette and Rudy have fallen out with each other. She sits
and cries, and he thinks no more about her." "That does not please me to
hear," said the kitchen-cat. "Nor me either," replied the parlor-cat; "but
I do not take it to heart. Babette may fall in love with the red whiskers,
if she likes, but he has not been here since he tried to get on the roof."
The powers of evil carry on their game both around us and within us. Rudy
knew this, and thought a great deal about it. What was it that had happened
to him on the mountain? Was it really a ghostly apparition, or a fever
dream? Rudy knew nothing of fever, or any other ailment. But, while he
judged Babette, he began to examine his own conduct. He had allowed wild
thoughts to chase each other in his heart, and a fierce tornado to break
loose. Could he confess to Babette, indeed, every thought which in the
hour of temptation might have led him to wrong doing? He had lost her ring,
and that very loss had won him back to her. Could she expect him to confess?
He felt as if his heart would break while he thought of it, and while so
many memories lingered on his mind. He saw her again, as she once stood
before him, a laughing, spirited child; many loving words, which she had
spoken to him out of the fulness of her love, came like a ray of sunshine
into his heart, and soon it was all sunshine as he thought of Babette.
But she must also confess she was wrong; that she should do. He went to
the mill- he went to confession. It began with a kiss, and ended with Rudy
being considered the offender. It was such a great fault to doubt Babette's
truth- it was most abominable of him. Such mistrust, such violence, would
cause them both great unhappiness. This certainly was very true, she knew
that; and therefore Babette preached him a little sermon, with which she
was herself much amused, and during the preaching of which she looked quite
lovely. She acknowledged, however, that on one point Rudy was right. Her
godmother's nephew was a fop: she intended to burn the book which he had
given her, so that not the slightest thing should remain to remind her
of him. "Well, that quarrel is all over," said the kitchen-cat. "Rudy is
come back, and they are friends again, which they say is the greatest of
all pleasures." "I heard the rats say one night," said the kitchen-cat,
"that the greatest pleasure in the world was to eat tallow candles and
to feast on rancid bacon. Which are we to believe, the rats or the lovers?"
"Neither of them," said the parlor-cat; "it is always the safest plan to
believe nothing you hear." The greatest happiness was coming for Rudy and
Babette. The happy day, as it is called, that is, their wedding-day, was
near at hand. They were not to be married at the church at Bex, nor at
the miller's house; Babette's godmother wished the nuptials to be solemnized
at Montreux, in the pretty little church in that town. The miller was very
anxious that this arrangement should be agreed to. He alone knew what the
newly-married couple would receive from Babette's godmother, and he knew
also that it was a wedding present well worth a concession. The day was
fixed, and they were to travel as far as Villeneuve the evening before,
to be in time for the steamer which sailed in the morning for Montreux,
and the godmother's daughters were to dress and adorn the bride. "Here
in this house there ought to be a wedding-day kept," said the parlor-cat,
"or else I would not give a mew for the whole affair." "There is going
to be great feasting," replied the kitchen-cat. "Ducks and pigeons have
been killed, and a whole roebuck hangs on the wall. It makes me lick my
lips when I think of it." "To-morrow morning they will begin the journey."
Yes, to-morrow! And this evening, for the last time, Rudy and Babette sat
in the miller's house as an engaged couple. Outside, the Alps glowed in
the evening sunset, the evening bells chimed, and the children of the sunbeam
sang, "Whatever happens is best."