‘There’s an awful lot of nonsense going on among the human beings!’ said the Parlour Cat to the Kitchen Cat. ‘Babette and Rudy have broken things off yet again. She’s weeping away, and he isn’t thinking of her any more.’
‘I don’t like that at all!’ said the Kitchen Cat.
‘I don’t either!’ said the Parlour Cat, ‘but I’m not going to grieve over it. Babette can go and become the loved one of that carroty sideburns fellow. He hasn’t been here either, not since he had a mind to go out onto the roof!’
Evil powers have their game, all round us and within us. Rudy had realised that, and thought it over. What was it that happened round him and inside him high up on the mountain? Was it visions or a dream in a fever? – he’d never known fever or illness before. He’d gained an insight into himself even as he passed judgement on Babette. He thought about the ferocious chase that had broken out in his own heart, the torrid Föhn that had been released there. Would he find himself able to confess everything to Babette, every idea that in a moment of temptation could turn into action? He had lost her ring, and it was precisely through this loss she had got him back. But would she be able to confess to him? It was as though, as he thought about her, his heart was on the point of breaking into pieces. So many memories asserted themselves. He saw her full of life, laughing, a high-spirited child. Many a loving word that she had spoken out of the fullness of her heart flew like a ray of sun into his breast, and before long real sunshine prevailed there for Babette.
She had to find the ability to confess to him, and that she should do.
He turned up at the mill. The result was a confession which began with a kiss and ended with Rudy being the sinner. His great error was being capable of actually doubting Babette’s faithfulness. It was, well, detestable of him! Such lack of trust, such impetuosity would lead them both to misery. Yes, most definitely it would! And that was why Babette preached him a little sermon, which she found very pleasing to deliver and which made her look so pretty. Yet in one respect (she conceded) Rudy had a point. Her godmother’s kinsman was a nincompoop! She would burn the book he had given her, and wouldn’t keep the smallest thing to remind her of him.
‘Now it’s all over and done with!’ said the Parlour Cat. ‘Rudy is here again, they understand each other, and that’s the greatest happiness of all, they say.’
‘Last night,’ said the Kitchen Cat, ‘I heard the rats say the greatest happiness comes from eating tallow-candles and bloating yourself with rotten pork. Now which should you believe, rats or people in love?’
‘None of them!’ said the Parlour Cat. ‘That’s always safest!’
The greatest happiness for Rudy and Babette was in fact growing. Their finest day, as people call it, they now had in sight, their wedding day.
But the wedding would not be taking place in the church at Bex, nor in the miller’s house. Babette’s godmother wanted the wedding celebrated at her place, and the marriage ceremony to be conducted in the beautiful little church in Montreux. The miller insisted this request was granted. He alone knew what Godmother had arranged for the newlyweds; they were getting a wedding present well worth such a modest compliance. The day was decided on. Already the evening beforehand they would have made their way to Villeneuve before setting off by steamer in the morning for Montreux so Godmother’s daughters could deck the bride.
‘There’ll be a two-days-long wedding-feast in this house too!’ said the Parlour Cat, ‘otherwise I think the whole thing won’t be worth so much as a miaow!’
‘The feast’s in progress right here,’ said the Kitchen Cat, ‘the ducks have been killed, the pigeons have had their necks wrung, and a whole deer carcase is hanging up on the wall. I’d give my teeth and claws to witness it all. Tomorrow they’re starting on their journey!’
Yes, the next day. This evening Rudy and Babette sat in the mill-house for the last time as an affianced couple.
Outside was the alpenglow, the evening bell rang out, and the daughters of the sunbeams sang: ‘May what’s best be what happens!’