The Ice Maiden Page #2

								

spirit of fragrance, light and fresh, remained behind, and this was
Rudy's morning draught. The sunbeams--those blessing-bringing
daughters of the sun--kissed his cheeks. Vertigo might be lurking on
the watch, but he dared not approach him. The swallows, who had not
less than seven nests in his grandfather's house, flew up to him and
his goats, singing, "We and you, you and we." They brought him
greetings from his grandfather's house, even from two hens, the only
birds of the household; but Rudy was not intimate with them.

Although so young and such a little fellow, Rudy had travelled a
great deal. He was born in the canton of Valais, and brought to his
grandfather over the mountains. He had walked to Staubbach--a little
town that seems to flutter in the air like a silver veil--the
glittering, snow-clad mountain Jungfrau. He had also been to the great
glaciers; but this is connected with a sad story, for here his
mother met her death, and his grandfather used to say that all
Rudy's childish merriment was lost from that time. His mother had
written in a letter, that before he was a year old he had laughed more
than he cried; but after his fall into the snow-covered crevasse,
his disposition had completely changed. The grandfather seldom spoke
of this, but the fact was generally known. Rudy's father had been a
postilion, and the large dog which now lived in his grandfather's
cottage had always followed him on his journeys over the Simplon to
the lake of Geneva. Rudy's relations, on his father's side, lived in
the canton of Valais, in the valley of the Rhone. His uncle was a
chamois hunter, and a well-known guide. Rudy was only a year old
when his father died, and his mother was anxious to return with her
child to her own relations, who lived in the Bernese Oberland. Her
father dwelt at a few hours' distance from Grindelwald; he was a
carver in wood, and gained so much by it that he had plenty to live
upon. She set out homewards in the month of June, carrying her
infant in her arms, and, accompanied by two chamois hunters, crossed
the Gemmi on her way to Grindelwald. They had already left more than
half the journey behind them. They had crossed high ridges, and
traversed snow-fields; they could even see her native valley, with its
familiar wooden cottages. They had only one more glacier to climb.
Some newly fallen snow concealed a cleft which, though it did not
extend to the foaming waters in the depths beneath, was still much
deeper than the height of a man. The young woman, with the child in
her arms, slipped upon it, sank in, and disappeared. Not a shriek, not
a groan was heard; nothing but the whining of a little child. More
than an hour elapsed before her two companions could obtain from the
nearest house ropes and poles to assist in raising them; and it was
with much exertion that they at last succeeded in raising from the
crevasse what appeared to be two dead bodies. Every means was used
to restore them to life. With the child they were successful, but
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