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 from Babette's window, he arrived in the evening, clothed
in white, like a miller's boy; he had not learnt to climb and nearly
tumbled head over heels into the stream, but escaped with wet sleeves
and splashed pantaloons. He reached Babette's window, muddy and wet
through, there he climbed into the old linden tree and imitated the
screech of an owl, for he could not sing like any other bird. Babette
heard it and peeped through the thin curtains, but when she remarked
the white man and recognized him, her little heart fluttered with
alarm, but also with anger. She hastily extinguished the light,
fastened the windows securely and then she let him howl.

If Rudy was in the mill it would have been dreadful, but Rudy was not
there; no, it was much worse, for he was below. There was loud
conversation, angry words; there might be blows; yes, perhaps murder.

Babette was terrified; she opened the window, called Rudy's name and
begged him to go; she said she would not suffer him to remain.

"You will not suffer me to remain," he exclaimed, "then it is a
preconcerted thing! You were expecting other friends, friends better
than myself; shame on you, Babette!"

"You are detestable," said Babette, "I hate you!" and she wept. "Go!
Go!"