amused. The cousin found her perfect.

"Yes, a perfect jackanapes!" said Rudy; this was the first time, that
he had said something, that did not please her. The Englishman had
presented her with a little book, as a souvenir of Chillon,--Byron's
poem of "The Prisoner of Chillon," in the French language, so that
Babette might read it.

"The book may be good," said Rudy, "but the finely combed fellow that
gave it to you does not please me!"

"He looked like a meal-bag, without meal in it!" said the miller and
laughed at his own wit. Rudy laughed and thought that this was very
well said.

XI.

THE COUSIN.

When Rudy came to the mill, a couple of days afterwards, he found the
young Englishman there. Babette had just cooked some trout for him and
had dressed them with parsley in order to make them appear more
inviting. That was assuredly not necessary. What did the Englishman
want here? Did he come in order to have Babette entertain and wait
upon him?

Rudy was jealous and that amused Babette; it rejoiced her, to learn
the feelings of his heart, the strong as well as the weak ones.

Until now love had been a play and she played with Rudy's whole heart;
yet he was her happiness, her life's thought, the noblest one! The
more gloomy he looked, the more her eyes laughed and she would have
liked to kiss the blonde Englishman with his golden whiskers, if she
could have succeeded by so doing, in making Rudy rush away furious.
Then, yes then, she would have known how much he loved her. That was
not right, that was not wise in little Babette; but she was only
nineteen! She did not reflect and still less did she think how her
behaviour towards the young Englishman might be interpreted; for it
was lighter and merrier than was seemly for the honourable and newly
affianced daughter of the miller.

The mill lay where the highway slopes--under the snow covered rocky
heights--which are called here, in the language of the country
"Diablerets" close to a rapid mountain stream, which was of a greyish
white, like bubbling soap suds. A smaller stream, rushes forth from
the rocks on the other side of the river, passes through an enclosed,
broad rafter-made-gutter and turns the large wheel of the mill. The
gutter was so full of water, that it streamed over and offered a most
slippery way, to one who had the idea of crossing more quickly to the
mill; a young man had this idea--the Englishman. Guided by the light,
which shone fro