n Rudy and Babette be in this frightful weather!" said the
miller.

Babette sat with folded hands, with her head in her lap, mute with
sorrow, with screaming and bewailing.

"In the deep water," said she to herself, "he is as far down as the
glaciers!"

She remembered what Rudy had related to her of his mother's death, of
his preservation, and how he was withdrawn death-like, from the clefts
of the glacier. "The Ice-Maiden has him again!"

There was a flash of lightning, as dazzling as the sunlight on the
white snow. Babette started up; at this instant, the sea rose like a
glittering glacier; there stood the Ice-Maiden majestic, pale, blue,
shining, and at her feet lay Rudy's corpse. "Mine!" said she, and then
all around was fog and night and streaming water.

"Cruel!" moaned Babette, "why must he die, now that the day of our
happiness approached. God! Enlighten my understanding! Enlighten my
heart! I do not understand thy ways! Notwithstanding all thy
omnipotence and wisdom, I still grope in the darkness."

God enlightened her heart. A thought like a ray of mercy, her last
night's dream in all its vividness flashed through her; she remembered
the words which she had spoken: "the wish for the best for herself and
Rudy."

"Woe is me! Was that the sinful seed in my heart? Did my dream
foretell my future life? Is all this misery for my salvation? Me,
miserable one!"

Lamenting, sat she in the dark night. In the solemn stillness, sounded
Rudy's last words; the last ones he had uttered: "Earth has no more
happiness to give me!" She had heard it in the fullness of her joy,
she heard it again in all the depths of her sorrow.

* * * * *

A couple of years have passed since then. The lake smiles, the coast
smiles; the vine branches are filled with ripe grapes; the steamboats
glide along with waving flags and the pleasure boats float over the
watery mirror, with their two expanded sails like white butterflies.
The railroad to Chillon is opened; it leads into the Rhone valley;
strangers alight at every station; they arrive with their red covered
guide books and read of remarkable sights which are to be seen. They
visit Chillon, they stand upon the little island, with its three
acacias--out on the lake--and they read in the book about the
betrothed ones, who sailed over one evening in the year 1856;--of the
death of the bridegroom, and: "it was not till the next morning, that
the despair