PART II
Years passed by, Babette grew into a tall and charming maiden. She learned to read and write, and to play on the harp. She could even speak a little French, which was the fashionable language of the Court in those days. So that with these accomplishments she was considered a fine lady, far above the village children, who had formerly despised her.
One fine evening (she was then about sixteen years of age) she was walking with her old nurse in the forest, not far from the Castle, picking bilberries, and singing to herself songs of her own composing. The wood was very still; not a leaf stirred. The setting sun shone out behind a beech-tree, making a brilliant star of iridescent colours that dazzled her eyes. She heard a sudden noise as of a cough: the bushes near her rustled. She felt frightened and called out: "Nurse, nurse," in trembling tones.
As she spoke, a man sprang out of the wood and seized her by the arm. Nurse began to scream; but the man raised the stick he had in his hand, and she stood as if turned to stone.
Babette's courage always rose to emergencies. She looked the man over from head to foot. He was dressed in green, with a red feather in his cap. His hair was dark and curly; his eyes were large and would have been beautiful, but that they had a wild and sinister look that Babette did not like, and squinted slightly. She seemed to remember his face; but where or when she had seen him before, she did not know. Her first thought was that he must be a wizard like one of those her grandmother had told her stories about.
"Who are you?" he said, shaking her slightly.
"I am Babette, daughter of Count Karl of Eppenhain," said Babette proudly.
"A Count's daughter—a fine tale—the witch's granddaughter you mean," he said with emphasis, and Babette shuddered. "Come along with me, child!" he continued, "you must follow me now, and serve me well and cook my dinners. I knew your old grandmother and have often seen you as a child; a little imp you were," he said. "Now it is high time you learnt to be useful; they will only turn your head, and teach you rubbish up there at the Castle; you must come along with me now." Then he turned to the poor nurse, and said, "In half an hour you will be free to return to the Castle. Adieu!" He fixed his strange eyes on the nurse, who swooned away, and thus she was found exactly half an hour afterwards by the housemaid, who had followed her to say that supper was ready.
You may imagine the consternation at the Castle. The poor Countess who had been so cold to Babette, seemed to feel it most. She sat and cried: "O Babette, come back, come back, my dear, and I will be a real mother to you, indeed I will."
The Count immediately took steps to recover her. The forests were searched through and through by his men; but not the slightest trace could they discover.
The seven ravens said: "Caw, caw," and set off at once in search of her.
The next day Fotchen and Silverpaws and the other cats disappeared. Lucky and several of the old witch's hens were also missed.
It was evident that they had all followed Babette, and that she must be alive somewhere; but where, that was the question. Where there is magic at work, it is always a difficult matter.
One clever youth remarked that if one could find her pets, why, then one might find Babette.
But this brilliant idea was not of much use, as they were all lost.
Meanwhile Babette followed her strange guide with many misgivings and sad sinkings of the heart. They had not gone far when they came to a cottage in the forest, surrounded, like her granny's garden, by a briar hedge.
Now I must tell you that Babette had fallen into the power of a reputed wizard, and he had the power of making everything within this briar hedge invisible and intangible to those outside. So that poor Babette would be more safely imprisoned there than in an iron-barred fortress. She did not realise this at first; she grew to understand it later, when she became more acquainted with the wizard (or Mr Squint-eyes, as Babette called him) and his ways. The hedge was so thick and high, and the thorns were so huge, that it would have been impossible for Babette to think of squeezing herself through it, and running away.
The wizard parted this hedge with his wand; it closed up thick and close behind them as they entered.
The cottage garden was laid out in patches of vegetables. Not a flower was to be seen in it; but there were fruit-trees with ripe apples, and pears, plums and medlars; for it was the early autumn. They entered into the little parlour which seemed dark and gloomy to Babette. Mr Squint-eyes tossed off a mug of beer that stood on the table, and told her to be off to bed. The poor girl was hungry; for bilberries are not very satisfying and it was supper time; but she crept up the narrow stairs, too much frightened to say a word. She found a tiny room with a white bed in it, a looking-glass, very dim and old and uncanny-looking, with candlesticks on either side, also a primitive washing-stand.
As she began to undress, a sense of fear and loneliness came over her. She thought of her happy home at Eppenhain, and of the Count, and hot tears began to fall. However, she was accustomed to look at the cheerful side of things. "They are sure to find me to-morrow," she said to herself; she knew she could not be far away.
The next morning she was awakened by a loud knocking at the door. The horrid man who had stolen her, poked his head in, "Get up, get up, you lazy bones," he said, "and see about my breakfast."
Babette hurried downstairs and found a small kitchen, with a door leading into the garden. There was a heap of dried wood just outside the door, and, after many attempts, she succeeded in making the fire.
She filled the heavy iron kettle from the pump in the yard, making her pretty frock quite black.
"That's right, that's the way that women should work," said the wizard coolly.
Babette felt indignant and thought that he might offer to help her, but not a bit of it. There he stood, leaning against the door, smoking his long pipe, the picture of laziness.
"Please where is the coffee?" said Babette.
"Use your eyes and you will find it," said her polite host.
Then she saw a jar on a shelf labelled "Coffee," and near it the coffee-mill.
Babette ground the beans till she was red in the face. Then she waited for the water to boil. Whilst she was attending to the coffee, rolls and butter appeared on the table and a blue and white china coffee service. The table seemed to have laid itself; for Babette was sure that the man had never moved from the door. Now breakfast was ready. They sat down together, the wizard saying never a word, but lifting one eyebrow at times in a peculiar way that made Babette feel very uncomfortable.
After breakfast he went out of the house saying: "Clean the house, make the beds, cook the dinner."
"But there is no dinner to cook," said poor Babette.
"Find it," was all the reply she could get out of him.
Now Babette had not been remarkable for obedience and docility, and if anyone had spoken to her like that at home, she would have rebelled at once; but she felt instinctively that her safety here lay in doing exactly as she was told. The man was half-mad she feared, and if she aroused his wrath, he might do her bodily harm.
The tears came into her eyes; she felt quite in despair; but she was a brave girl and determined to make the best of things.
The vegetables in the garden occurred to her. She would cook some carrots; that was easy. Stewed plums would do for pudding; but what about the soup and the joint?
At this point of her deliberations a hare was thrown over the hedge. This settled the question. Evidently the man did not wish to starve.
"But how shall I get its fur off?" thought Babette. "Bah! I shall never be able to skin the creature!"
Just then she heard to her joy a "caw caw," seven times repeated, and there she saw her dear ravens sitting on a tree just outside the garden.
Now the limit of invisibility did not exist for the witch's favourites. They flew at once to Babette; she told them her troubles, and showed them the hare.
"That is an easy matter," said the ravens, "the hare has seven skins; we are seven ravens, each of us will take off one skin, and may we have the pickings?" said the greedy fellows.
"Anything, anything you like! Please take it away and bring it back again all ready to pop in the pot!" said Babette.
"Potted or jugged hare famous!" said the ravens, and they laughed hoarsely.
"Be quiet, be quiet, or the wizard will catch you!" she said in a warning tone.
Now the dinner was all ready on the stove. Potatoes she had dug out of the garden. "Hare and carrots and stewed plums, what can anyone want more?" she thought, and felt very proud. But suddenly soup occurred to her. How could she make soup? She had heard that soup was made of bones and water; but she had no bones, and those nice little halfpenny packets for making soup out of nothing were not invented in those days.
She put on some hot water with a few carrots and a little chopped parsley in it and plenty of pepper and salt. She tasted it, as a good cook should, and said to herself: "Not bad, I have tasted worse."
She laid the table, and punctually at one o'clock the man came in. Babette trembled. He proceeded at once to business; that is, he sat down to dinner.
Soup came first, which was unfortunate. "Bah!" he said, making a horribly wry face, "what stuff, child, do you want to make me sick?"
"No-o-o," said poor Babette.
"Never make such soup again, or I shall fetch my sister, and she will cook you," he said with a terrible look.
However the hare was tender, and when a pot of red-currant jelly produced itself, seemingly from nowhere, it was quite a fine dinner.
The carrots were hard, and "not scraped," as the wizard said severely. "Plums too much sugar."
But in spite of all this grumbling she felt immensely proud of her morning's work. The house was not cleaned; neither were the beds made; but this he did not seem to notice. He lay on the sofa by the window, covered himself up with a bear skin, and snored loudly with his mouth open.
Babette made up the fire, and put the kettle on to boil for tea. Then she strolled out into the garden. She climbed up into a pear-tree. From her perch in its branches she could see far into the woods. She wondered when her friends would come and rescue her.
Then she saw to her delight Lucky and some of her favourite cocks and hens wandering about in search of her. They came scuttling up at once. She held up one finger to enjoin silence. She feared that her capturer might take a fancy for roast fowl if he should see them. So they hid under the hedge.
"Now I can make scrambled eggs for supper," thought Babette joyfully.
Fotchen and Silverpaws had likewise no rest when their mistress was gone, and they too set out in search of her. When they reached the briar hedge, Babette was indoors making tea. They began to miew and made a great noise.
"The old woman's cats, by Thor!" said the wizard. "They know a thing or two. I'll go and let them in." So saying he again parted the hedge with his wand, and let them through. Although Babette was very pleased to see them, she felt a little anxious as to their welfare.
However the wizard scratched their heads, and was quite affectionate to them. He had, it seemed, a partiality for cats.
Babette felt a little happier now that her pets were with her; yet her heart was sore. She thought of her lovely house, of her kind, good foster-father, and of all her friends, and the tears stood in her eyes.
Several weeks passed away, and Babette cooked and scrubbed every day in fear and trembling, like a regular little Cinderella. Being German, she was used to helping in the household, and was not so inexperienced as many English girls would have been. But never a word of praise did she get from her queer companion; but if anything were amiss, then he opened his mouth and scolded the poor girl roughly.