hehas begun with A, and I suppose he will kiss through the wholealphabet."
  But a kiss in the dance was all the busy tongues could accusehim of. He certainly had kissed Annette, but she was not the flower ofhis heart.
  Down in the valley, near Bex, among the great walnut-trees, by theside of a little rushing mountain-stream, lived a rich miller. Hisdwelling-house was a large building, three storeys high, with littleturrets. The roof was covered with chips, bound together with tinplates, that glittered in sunshine and in the moonlight. The largestof the turrets had a weather-cock, representing an apple pierced bya glittering arrow, in memory of William Tell. The mill was a neat andwell-ordered place, that allowed itself to be sketched and writtenabout; but the miller's daughter did not permit any to sketch or writeabout her. So, at least, Rudy would have said, for her image waspictured in his heart; her eyes shone in it so brightly, that quitea flame had been kindled there; and, like all other fires, it hadburst forth so suddenly, that the miller's daughter, the beautifulBabette, was quite unaware of it. Rudy had never spoken a word toher on the subject. The miller was rich, and, on that account, Babettestood very high, and was rather difficult to aspire to. But saidRudy to himself, "Nothing is too high for a man to reach: he mustclimb with confidence in himself, and he will not fail." He had learntthis lesson in his youthful home.
  It happened once that Rudy had some business to settle at Bex.It was a long journey at that time, for the railway had not beenopened. From the glaciers of the Rhone, at the foot of the Simplon,between its ever-changing mountain summits, stretches the valley ofthe canton Valais. Through it runs the noble river of the Rhone, whichoften overflows its banks, covering fields and highways, anddestroying everything in its course. Near the towns of Sion and St.Maurice, the valley takes a turn, and bends like an elbow, andbehind St. Maurice becomes so narrow that there is only space enoughfor the bed of the river and a narrow carriage-road. An old towerstands here, as if it were guardian to the canton Valais, which endsat this point; and from it we can look across the stone bridge tothe toll-house on the other side, where the canton Vaud commences. Notfar from this spot stands the town of Bex, and at every step can beseen an increase of fruitfulness and verdure. It is like entering agrove of chestnut and walnut-trees. Here and there the cypress andpomegranate blossoms peep forth; and it is almost as warm as anItalian climate. Rudy arrived at Bex, and soon finished the businesswhich had brought him there, and then walked about the town; but noteven the miller's boy could be seen, nor any one belonging to themill, not to mention Babette. This did not please him at all.Evening came on. The air was filled with the perfume of the wild thymeand the blossoms of the lime-trees, and the green woods on themountains seemed to be covered with a shining veil, blue as the sky.Over everything reigned a stillness, not of sleep or of death, butas if Nature were holding her breath, that her image might bephotographed on the blue vault of heaven. Here and there, amidst thetrees of the silent valley, stood poles which supported the wires ofthe electric telegraph. Against one of these poles leaned an object somotionless that it might have been mistaken for the trunk of a tree;but it was Rudy, standing there as still as at that moment waseverything around him. He was not asleep, neither was he dead; butjust as the various events in the world- matters of momentousimportance to individuals- were flying through the telegraph wires,without the quiver of a wire or the slightest tone, so, through themind of Rudy, thoughts of overwhelming importance were passing,without an outward sign of emotion. The happiness of his future lifedepended upon the decision of his present reflections. His eyes werefixed on one spot in the distance- a light that twinkled through thefoliage from the parlor of the miller's house, where Babette dwelt.Rudy stood so still, that it might have been supposed he waswatching for a chamois; but he was in reality like a chamois, who willstand for a moment, looking as if it were chiselled out of the rock,and then, if only a stone rolled by, would suddenly bound forward witha spring, far away from the hunter. And so with Rudy: a sudden roll ofhis thoughts roused him from his stillness, and made him bound forwardwith determination to act.
  "Never despair!"