ly upon the deep valley, where the cars were
rushing by.

"There sit those _thoughts_ in their power of strength! I see them
all!--There sits one, proud as a king and alone! They sit in masses!
There, half are asleep! When the steam-dragon stops, they will descend
and go their way! The thoughts go out into the world!" She laughed.

"There rolls another avalanche!" they said in the valley.

"It will not catch us!" said two on the back of the steam
dragon;--"two souls and one thought"--these were Rudy and Babette; the
miller was there also.

"As baggage," said he, "I go along, as the indispensable!"

"There sit the two," said the Ice-Maiden, "I have crushed many a
chamois; I have bent and broken millions of alpine roses, so that no
roots were left! I shall annihilate _them_! The thoughts! The mental
powers!" She laughed.

"There rolls another avalanche!" they said in the valley.

X.

THE GOD-MOTHER.

In Montreux, one of the adjoining towns, which with Clarens, Vernex
and Crin forms a garland around the northeast part of the lake of
Geneva, dwelt Babette's god-mother, a distinguished English lady, with
her daughters and a young relation. Although she had but lately
arrived, the miller had already made her his visit and announced
Babette's engagement; had spoken of Rudy and the eaglet; of the visit
to Interlaken and in short had told the whole story. This had rejoiced
her in the highest degree, both for Rudy and Babette's sake, as well
as for the miller's; they must all visit her--therefore they came.
Babette was to see her god-mother, and the god-mother was to see
Babette.

At the end of the lake of Geneva, by the little town of Villeneuve,
lay the steam-boat which after half an hour's trip from Vernex,
arrived at Montreux. This is one of the coasts which are sung of by
the poets. Here sat Byron, by the deep bluish green lake, under the
walnut trees and wrote his melodious verses upon the prisoner of the
deep sombre castle of Chillon. Here, where Clarens with its weeping
willows, mirrored itself in the waters, once wandered Rousseau and
dreamt of Heloise. Yonder, where the Rhone glides along under Savoy's
snow-topped mountains and not far from its mouth, in the lake lies a
little island, indeed it is so small, that from the coast it is taken
for a vessel. It is a valley between the rocks, which a lady caused
to be dammed up a hundred years ago and to be covered with earth and
planted with three acacia