Interlaken. Babette did not talk much, she had grown silent; but her
eyes spoke and that was quite enough for Rudy. The miller who
generally liked to carry on the conversation--for he was accustomed to
have every one laugh at his witty sayings and puns--was he not the
rich miller?--seemed now to prefer to listen. Rudy recounted to him
his hunting expeditions; described the difficulties, the dangers and
the privations of the chamois hunter when on the lofty mountain peak;
how often he must climb over the insecure snow-ledges, that the wind
had blown on the rocky brink, and how he must pass over slight bridges
that the snow-drifts had thrown across the abyss. Rudy looked
fearless, his eyes sparkled whilst he spoke of the shrewdness of the
chamois, of their daring leaps, of the violence of the Föhn and of the
rolling avalanches. He observed that with every description he won
more and more favour; but what pleased the miller more than all, was
the account of the lamb's vulture and the bold golden eagle.

In Canton Valais, not far from here, there was an eagle's nest, very
slyly built under the projecting edge of the rock; a young one was in
it, but no one could steal it! An Englishman had offered Rudy a few
days before, a whole handful of gold, if he would bring him the young
one alive, "but everything has a limit," said he, "the young eagle
cannot be taken away, and it would be madness to attempt it!"

The wine and conversation flowed freely; but the evening appeared all
too short for Rudy; yet it was past midnight, when he went home from
his first visit to the mill.

The light shone a little while longer through the window and between
the green trees; the parlour-cat came out of an opening in the roof
and the kitchen-cat came along the gutter.