ll as anger. She quickly put out the light, felt if
the fastening of the window was secure, and then left him to howl as
long as he liked. How dreadful it would be, thought Babette, if Rudy
were here in the house. But Rudy was not in the house. No, it was much
worse, he was outside, standing just under the linden-tree. He was
speaking loud, angry words. He could fight, and there might be murder!
Babette opened the window in alarm, and called Rudy's name; she told
him to go away, she did not wish him to remain there.

"You do not wish me to stay," cried he; "then this is an
appointment you expected--this good friend whom you prefer to me.
Shame on you, Babette!"

"You are detestable!" exclaimed Babette, bursting into tears.
"Go away. I hate you."

"I have not deserved this," said Rudy, as he turned away, his
cheeks burning, and his heart like fire.

Babette threw herself on the bed, and wept bitterly. "So much as I
loved thee, Rudy, and yet thou canst think ill of me."

Thus her anger broke forth; it relieved her, however: otherwise
she would have been more deeply grieved; but now she could sleep
soundly, as youth only can sleep.

XII. EVIL POWERS

Rudy left Bex, and took his way home along the mountain path.
The air was fresh, but cold; for here amidst the deep snow, the Ice
Maiden reigned. He was so high up that the large trees beneath him,
with their thick foliage, appeared like garden plants, and the pines
and bushes even less. The Alpine roses grew near the snow, which lay
in detached stripes, and looked like linen laid out to bleach. A
blue gentian grew in his path, and he crushed it with the butt end
of his gun. A little higher up, he espied two chamois. Rudy's eyes
glistened, and his thoughts flew at once in a different direction; but
he was not near enough to take a sure aim. He ascended still higher,
to a spot where a few rough blades of grass grew between the blocks of
stone and the chamois passed quietly on over the snow-fields. Rudy
walked hurriedly, while the clouds of mist gathered round him.
Suddenly he found himself on the brink of a precipitous rock. The rain
was falling in torrents. He felt a burning thirst, his head was hot,
and his limbs trembled with cold. He seized his hunting-flask, but
it was empty; he had not thought of filling it before ascending the
mountain. He had never been ill in his life, nor ever experienced such
sensations as those he now felt. He was so tired that he could