《安徒生童话英文版》第194章

　　exclaimed the IceMaiden; "but the powers of nature are still the rulers." And shelaughed and sang till her voice sounded through the valley, and peoplesaid it was the rolling of an avalanche. But the children of the sunsang in louder strains in praise of the mind of man, which can spanthe sea as with a yoke, can level mountains, and fill up valleys. Itis the power of thought which gives man the mastery over nature.

　　Just at this moment there came across the snow-field, where theIce Maiden sat, a party of travellers. They had bound themselvesfast to each other, so that they looked like one large body on theslippery plains of ice encircling the deep abyss.

　　"Worms!" exclaimed the Ice Maiden. "You, the lords of the powersof nature!" And she turned away and looked maliciously at the deepvalley where the railway train was rushing by. "There they sit,these thoughts!" she exclaimed. "There they sit in their power overnature's strength. I see them all. One sits proudly apart, like aking; others sit together in a group; yonder, half of them are asleep;and when the steam dragon stops, they will get out and go their way.The thoughts go forth into the world," and she laughed.

　　"There goes another avalanche," said those in the valley beneath.

　　"It will not reach us," said two who sat together behind the steamdragon. "Two hearts and one beat," as people say. They were Rudy andBabette, and the miller was with them. "I am like the luggage," saidhe; "I am here as a necessary appendage."

　　"There sit those two," said the Ice Maiden. "Many a chamois have Icrushed. Millions of Alpine roses have I snapped and broken off; not aroot have I spared. I know them all, and their thoughts, those spiritsof strength!" and again she laughed.

　　"There rolls another avalanche," said those in the valley.

　　X. THE GODMOTHER

　　At Montreux, one of the towns which encircle the northeast part ofthe lake of Geneva, lived Babette's godmother, the noble English lady,with her daughters and a young relative. They had only lately arrived,yet the miller had paid them a visit, and informed them of Babette'sengagement to Rudy. The whole story of their meeting at Interlachen,and his brave adventure with the eaglet, were related to them, andthey were all very much interested, and as pleased about Rudy andBabette as the miller himself. The three were invited to come toMontreux; it was but right for Babette to become acquainted with hergodmother, who wished to see her very much. A steam-boat startedfrom the town of Villeneuve, at one end of the lake of Geneva, andarrived at Bernex, a little town beyond Montreux, in about half anhour. And in this boat, the miller, with his daughter and Rudy, setout to visit her godmother. They passed the coast which has been socelebrated in song. Here, under the walnut-trees, by the deep bluelake, sat Byron, and wrote his melodious verses about the prisonerconfined in the gloomy castle of Chillon. Here, where Clarens, withits weeping-willows, is reflected in the clear water, wanderedRousseau, dreaming of Heloise. The river Rhone glides gently bybeneath the lofty snow-capped hills of Savoy, and not far from itsmouth lies a little island in the lake, so small that, seen from theshore, it looks like a ship. The surface of the island is rocky; andabout a hundred years ago, a lady caused the ground to be covered withearth, in which three acacia-trees were planted, and the wholeenclosed with stone walls. The acacia-trees now overshadow everypart of the island. Babette was enchanted with the spot; it seemedto her the most beautiful object in the whole voyage, and shethought how much she should like to land there. But the steam-shippassed it by, and did not stop till it reached Bernex. The littleparty walked slowly from this place to Montreux, passing the sun-litwalls with which the vineyards of the little mountain town of Montreuxare surrounded, and peasants' houses, overshadowed by fig-trees,with gardens in which grow the laurel and the cypress.

　　Halfway up the hill stood the boarding-house in which Babette'sgodmother resided. She was received most cordially; her godmotherwas a very friendly woman, with a round, smiling countenance. When achild, her head must have resembled one of Raphael's cherubs; it wasstill an angelic face, with its white locks of silvery hair. Thedaughters were tall, elegant, slender maidens.

　　The young cousin, whom they had brought with them, was dressedin white from head to foot; he had golden hair and golden whiskers,large enough to be divided amongst three gentlemen; and he beganimmediately to pay the greatest attention to Babette.

　　Richly bound books, note-paper, and drawings, lay on the largetable. The balcony window stood open, and from it could be seen thebeautiful wide extended lake, the water so clear and still, that themountains of Savoy, with their villages, woods, and snow-crownedpeaks, were clearly reflected in it.

　　Rudy, who was usually so lively and brave, did not in the leastfeel himself at home; he acted as if he were walking on peas, over aslippery floor. How long and wearisome the time appeared; it waslike being in a treadmill. And then they went out for a walk, whichwas very slow and tedious. Two steps forward and one backwards hadRudy to take to keep pace with the others. They walked down toChillon, and went over the old castle on the rocky island. They sawthe implements of torture, the deadly dungeons, the rusty fetters inthe rocky walls, the stone benches for those condemned to death, thetrap-doors through which the unhappy creatures were hurled upon ironspikes, and impaled alive. They called looking at all these apleasure. It certainly was the right place to visit. Byron's poetryhad made it celebrated in the world. Rudy could only feel that itwas a place of execution. He leaned against the stone framework of thewindow, and gazed down into the deep, blue water, and over to thelittle island with the three acacias, and wished himself there, awayand free from the whole chattering party. But Babette was mostunusually lively and good-tempered.

　　"I have been so amused," she said.

　　The cousin had found her quite perfect.

　　"He is a perfect fop," said Rudy; and this was the first time Rudyhad said anything that did not please Babette.

　　The Englishman had made her a present of a little book, inremembrance of their visit to Chillon. It was Byron's poem, "ThePrisoner of Chillon," translated into French, so that Babette couldread it.

　　"The book may be very good," said Rudy; "but that finely combedfellow who gave it to you is not worth much."

　　"He looks something like a flour-sack without any flour," said themiller, laughing at his own wit. Rudy laughed, too, for so had heappeared to him.

　　XI. THE COUSIN

　　When Rudy went a few days after to pay a visit to the mill, hefound the young Englishman there. Babette was just thinking ofpreparing some trout to set before him. She understood well how togarnish the dish with parsley, and make it look quite tempting. Rudythought all this quite unnecessary. What did the Englishman wantthere?