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."

XIV. NIGHT VISIONS

The sun had gone down, and the clouds lay low on the valley of the
Rhone. The wind blew from the south across the mountains; it was an
African wind, a wind which scattered the clouds for a moment, and then
suddenly fell. The broken clouds hung in fantastic forms upon the
wood-covered hills by the rapid Rhone. They assumed the shapes of
antediluvian animals, of eagles hovering in the air, of frogs
leaping over a marsh, and then sunk down upon the rushing stream and
appeared to sail upon it, although floating in the air. An uprooted
fir-tree was being carried away by the current, and marking out its
path by eddying circles on the water. Vertigo and his sisters were
dancing upon it, and raising these circles on the foaming river. The
moon lighted up the snow on the mountain-tops, shone on the dark
woods, and on the drifting clouds those fantastic forms which at night
might be taken for spirits of the powers of nature. The
mountain-dweller saw them through the panes of his little window. They
sailed in hosts before the Ice Maiden as she came out of her palace of
ice. Then she seated hers