A FRIEND IS FOUND
Cornelli had not appeared at Martha’s cottage for quite a number of
days, and so Martha was filled with grief and anxiety. There were many
reasons for this. First of all, she loved the child as if she had been
her own and missed her daily visits terribly. She also knew that there
was something the matter with Cornelli and that this was the reason
why she did not come. From the time the child was small, she had run
over to her old friend every single day and had told her everything.
Martha was also sorry for her guest’s sake that Cornelli stayed away.
She had told Dino how merry and bright the child could be and how he
would enjoy her as a daily companion. Now it had all come to nothing.
In the meantime Dino and Martha had become firm friends, and the old
woman was very eager to make everything cosy and comfortable for her
polite and friendly housemate. After his daily walks and after he had
done his school work conscientiously, Dino loved always to sit down
beside Martha. Then she would talk to him and tell him many things
which Dino loved to hear.
She generally told about Cornelli’s father and mother, for Martha had
known the latter as a small child. Before long, though, she would
always begin to talk about Cornelli, for she never tired of that
subject. She assured Dino that she had never known a more bright or
amusing little girl. Dino always assured her that he could not believe
this and when Martha even asserted that Cornelli was more attractive
than any child she had ever seen, Dino laughed.
“She looks exactly like a little owl,” he always said. “One can hardly
see her eyes. I should love her to come again, though,” he added, for
he was curious to see Cornelli when she was funny and bright, as Martha
described her.
When Dino had gone to his room that evening, Martha quickly put on a
better apron, took the big shawl from her cupboard, and putting it on
her shoulders, went quietly out of the house and over to the Director’s
residence. She looked up at the kitchen windows and saw a light there,
as well as in the room that overlooked the garden. On entering the
kitchen Martha saw Esther and Miss Mina sitting down to a plentiful
supper. The latter was just getting up to answer a bell which had rung
in the dining room, but Esther offered the empty seat to her old
acquaintance.
“Sit down, Martha. I am sure you have earned a rest, the same as I
have,” she said, and with these words moved three platters and a bottle
over to the new arrival. “Just take it. There is a lot left and I am
glad when it is gone, for then I can plan something new for to-morrow.”
“Thank you, Esther,” Martha replied. “I have already eaten supper. It
is very nice of you to invite me to share it with you, but I really
can’t.”
“How can you refuse? I simply won’t have it. Anybody can eat what I
cook, even the Emperor of Russia himself. I am sure you are not yet
quite as mighty as that,” Esther proceeded eagerly, loading a plate
with macaroni and stewed plums.
“Please, Martha, don’t make a fuss; just eat this and drink this glass
of wine. I don’t know why you shouldn’t. Why shouldn’t you eat supper
twice, if it is good?” Martha did not dare to refuse Esther’s offering
any more, so she began to eat her second supper, which was much more
abundant than the first had been.
“What brings you here so late, Martha; what is it?” asked Esther
curiously, for this visit was quite unusual.
“I was going to ask you something, Esther, and I thought that I would
interfere less with your work in the evening than at any other time,”
Martha answered. “Cornelli, who used to come to me every day has not
been to see me all week. I thought that the ladies might have objected
to her going to such a humble old woman as I am. I could understand
that well enough. Do you think they have?”
“Oh no, they don’t object at all,” Esther replied. “Miss Mina has told
them that our master thinks well of you. But you have no idea how
changed the child is in all her ways. One hardly knows her any more.
Three or four times a morning she used to come running in and out of
the kitchen. She was always singing and flying about the garden like
a little bird, at all hours of the day.
“Who picked all the fine berries and the yellow plums, the juicy, dark
red cherries from the young trees over there, so that it was a pleasure
to see her? Cornelli, of course! And now she won’t even look at
anything. All the berries are dried up by now and spoiled, and the
fine cherries, too. The yellow plums, also, are lying under the tree
by the dozen. They are only meant for children; the ladies won’t bother
about them and one can’t cook them, either. So they fall down and lie
there, and Cornelli never raises her head when she goes by them.”
Martha was much too modest to say how she would have loved to have a
little basket full of plums for her young boarder. She never could
give him any fruit and she knew how he would enjoy some. But as long
as he was staying with her she could not do it, for that would seem
as if she were begging for herself.
“Yes, Esther,” she said after a while, “I certainly have noticed how
changed Cornelli is. I pray to the Lord that everything will come right
in the end. Of course, it is hard for the child to get used to a new
life right away. But it surely will be good for her to have somebody
looking after her bringing-up.”
Esther shrugged her shoulders significantly at this, but said nothing.
“Is the child still in her room or has she gone out, Esther, do you
know? I wanted to tell her to come again to see me, as long as the
ladies don’t object.”
Esther did not need to answer. At that moment Cornelli came stealing
quietly down the hall. When she saw Martha a ray of sunshine passed
across her face and she greeted the old woman.
“I came to see if you were ill,” said Martha. “What keeps you from
coming to see me, Cornelli? The time has passed so slowly without you,
child,” she added, holding Cornelli’s hand affectionately.
“With me, too,” said Cornelli hoarsely.
“Please come to-morrow and every day, the way you used to,” Martha
begged.
“No, I won’t come,” Cornelli answered.
“Why not, Cornelli?” Martha asked, full of dismay.
“Because the boy is there. I don’t like him and he does not like me,”
Cornelli stated.
Martha now eagerly told Cornelli of the falsehood of this assertion.
She told her how Dino had asked after her every day and had hoped that
she would come again. It was awfully dull for him to be alone all day
without a playmate. Martha was quite sure that it had not been Dino’s
fault that she did not like him. The boy had nothing at all against
her, for he was asking every day that she come back.
“Tell me, Cornelli,” Martha said finally, “why don’t you like the boy?
He is so nice!”
“I’ll come to see you to-morrow,” was Cornelli’s answer, and it
sufficed. Quite happily Martha said good-bye, making Cornelli repeat
her promise that she would spend some time next day with her old friend
and the new boarder.
Next day Cornelli actually arrived at Martha’s cottage at the accustomed
time. Martha was standing by her carnation pots on the porch, ready
to greet the visitor who was approaching.
“Dino is so glad that you are coming, Cornelli,” she said, offering
her hand as greeting. “He has just returned from drinking milk. Look,
here he comes!”
Dino had heard the arrival of Martha’s expected friend and opening the
door had stepped out. “Why have you not come for so long?” he asked,
giving Cornelli his hand. “I waited for you every day.”
Cornelli gave no answer. Entering the room together they sat down just
as they did the first day of their acquaintance. Martha went out,
because she knew that the children would get along better alone, and
she was very anxious for the two to become good friends.
“Your small white kid is growing more cunning every day,” said Dino.
“You should see it when it bounds about so gaily.”
“I don’t care if I see it again or not. Nothing matters at all to me,”
Cornelli returned in a most unfriendly manner.
“No, this is not true,” said Dino, laughing kindly. “When one talks
that way it shows that one cares a great deal and that one is full of
bitter thoughts, just because one can’t have what one wants. I know
that very well; I do exactly the same thing.”
Cornelli was so astonished by Dino’s knowledge in the matter that she
gazed at him dumfounded.
“Oh, yes, I know how it is,” he repeated. “But you do not need to be
bitter, because you lead the finest life anyone possibly could. I
always think so each morning and evening when I go over to the stable
to drink my milk. What a wonderful garden you have! I never saw such
fruit. A whole tree full of plums and all the berries on the bushes!
And then the two fine horses that are kept separately in your stable
for you. Matthew has told me that your father drives with you every
week and that you can have everything in the house and in the garden,
for you are the only child.”
“Oh, if only there were twelve or twenty children in the house, then
everything would be different,” Cornelli broke forth passionately.
“But I am always alone and never can say a word to anybody. And if one
is made so that everybody hates and despises one, and if no one in the
whole world can help one and everything gets worse all the time---You
do not know how it is. I only wish I could die right away--” Here
Cornelli burst into sudden tears. Putting her head on the table she
sobbed violently.
Dino looked quite frightened; he had never intended to make Cornelli
sad and he could not understand what she had said. But he remembered
that she had no mother and so he could understand her tears, for that
was dreadfully sad. That seemed more cause for tears than that she was
an only child.
The thought filled him with deep compassion for her, and he said softly:
“Come, Cornelli! It is terribly sad that you have no mother, but you
must not think that therefore you are all alone and nobody wants to
help you. I’ll be your friend and I’ll help you, but you must tell me
what troubles you. I do not understand from what you have said. Please
explain it all to me.”
“No, I can’t do that, I can’t tell anyone,” Cornelli said between her
sobs.
“Oh, yes, you can. Don’t cry any more and I’ll help you. I can surely
find a way. Please tell me.”
Dino took Cornelli’s hand and gently pulled it away from her eyes.
“No, no, I can’t,” she said timidly.
“Oh, yes, you can. First of all, we’ll push your hair away. It is all
sticking to your forehead and your eyes; you can hardly see.” Dino
pushed the hair away as much as he was able; but it was still hanging
down and sticking fast.
“Oh, now you’ll see it, and then you’ll make a great noise, I know,”
Cornelli exclaimed desperately.
“I do not see anything except that you look a thousand times better
that way than with these thick, drooping fringes all over your face,”
said Dino.
“No, let them be! I know exactly how it is,” cried Cornelli, making
an effort to push her hair back again. “Only you won’t say it, because
you want to be my friend. But I know it and everybody can see it and
hate me.”
“But Cornelli, why are you crying?” said Dino, full of astonishment.
“I don’t know what you mean and I am sure you are imagining something.
You must be, for one often does.”
“No, I’m not, and there are people who can see it. You must not think
that I imagine something, Dino; otherwise I would not be so frightened
that I often cannot go to sleep for a long, long while. I have to think
and think all the time. I know that it will get worse and worse and
that I won’t be able to cover it up in the end. Then there won’t be
a single person in the world who does not hate me when he looks at me.
You, too, will hate me then, I know.”
“I swear to you right now that I shall not hate you, whatever should
appear,” Dino exclaimed enthusiastically. “Just tell me for once and
all what you mean. Please do it, for I might be able to help you and
give you some advice. Just tell me, for you know now that I will remain
your friend in spite of everything that might turn up.”
Cornelli still hesitated.
“But will you still be my friend later on, when everything is still
more changed and nobody else will be my friend?” she asked persistently.
“Yes, I promise; and here is my hand!” said Dino, giving the little
girl a hearty handshake. “You can see that I really mean it, for what
one has promised that way, one can never take back. Now you can be
sure that I shall always be your friend.”
Cornelli’s face lit up with joy. It was obviously a great comfort to
her to have a friend who would remain so for all time.
“So now, I’ll tell you what it is. But you must promise not to tell
anyone in the whole, wide world about it, as long as you live.”
Dino promised, giving his hand again for solemn assurance.
“Look, here on both sides of my forehead,” said Cornelli now, hesitating
a little and pushing the fringes of hair out of her face, “I have two
large bumps, they grow all the time and especially when I frown. I
have to make a cross face all the time, for I cannot be jolly any more
and can never laugh again. So the bumps keep on growing and in the end
they will be just like regular horns. Then everyone will hate me, for
nobody else has horns. I can do nothing now but hide them, but in the
end they will come through and then my hair won’t hide them any more.
Then everybody can see it and people will despise me and children will
be sure to throw stones after me. Oh!”
Cornelli again put her head on her arms and groaned in her great
trouble. Dino had listened, full of astonishment. He had never before
heard anything like that.
“But, Cornelli,” he said, “why do you frown all the time, if the bumps
grow when you do it? It would be so much better if you would think of
funny things and would try to laugh. If you always made a pleasant
face they would perhaps go away entirely.”
“I can’t! I can’t possibly do it,” Cornelli lamented. “I know that I
make a horrid face and that I am so ugly that nobody wants to look at
me. Whenever anybody looks at me I have to make a cross face, for I
know that everybody thinks how horrid I look. I never can be happy any
more, because I have to think all the time about that terrible thing
on my head, and that it is getting worse. And I can’t help it and can
do nothing. You don’t know how it is. As long as I live I have to be
that way, and everybody will hate me. You could not laugh any more,
either, if you were like that.”
“You should try to think of quite different things and then you would
forget it. Later on it would probably seem quite different to you. You
keep on thinking about it all the time and so you believe in it more
and more. Get it out of your head, then it will be sure to get better,”
said Dino, who could not quite understand it. “Come, I’ll tell you a
story that will change your thoughts. Once upon a time there was an
old copper pan---See, you have laughed already!”
“Oh, that will be a fine kind of story--about an old copper pan!”
Cornelli said.
“It certainly is a fine story,” Dino assured her; “just listen: She
had a step-brother who was a wash boiler--you see, you have laughed
again! That’s the way! So they went together to Paris, where there was
a revolution.”
“What is a revolution?” Cornelli asked, quite thrilled.
“See how the story interests you!” said Dino, thoroughly pleased. “You
have no more wrinkles on your forehead, because you are listening well.
Didn’t I guess what you have to do? I’ll go on now. You call it a
revolution when nobody wants to remain in their old places and
everything goes to pieces.”
“What do you mean by going to pieces? Do you mean it the way chairs
begin to go to pieces when the glue comes off and the legs get loose
and shaky?”
“Just that way,” Dino assented. “When all laws and orders begin to go
to pieces like chairs, when the glue is off and everything crashes and
tumbles down; do you understand?”
“Yes. And what happened?” Cornelli wanted to know.
“The travellers liked that well,” Dino continued, “for they were full
of discontented thoughts. The copper pan had thought for a long time
that she wanted to be something else. She was tired of cooking greasy
food and of all the time being full of soot at the bottom; she wanted
to be something better. The wash boiler had similar thoughts. He thought
he would be much better off as a nice tea kettle. He thought how nice
it would be to stand on a fine table, so he wanted to get away from
the laundry.
“When they came to the revolution they joined in it, too. They became
quite famous making speeches, for they both could talk very well. The
wash boiler had learned it from the washer women, and the copper pan
from the cook. So they were both asked what they wanted to become. The
copper pan wanted to become an ice box; she wanted to sparkle outside
with fine wood and inside with splendid ice. The wash boiler wanted
to become a fine tea kettle and be able to stand on a finely laid-out
table. So they both became what they had wished.
“But the copper pan, who had been used to the cosy fire, began to shake
and freeze when the ice filled her whole inside. Her teeth were
chattering while she looked about to see if she could discover a little
fire anywhere. But nobody ever brought any burning spark near her. She
suffered the bitterest hunger besides, because she had been used to
quite different nourishment from fat morsels roasting in her insides.
Now she had to swallow little lumps of ice and nothing else. She was
not a bit pleased with shining outside and in, for she had to think
all the time: how terrible it is to starve and freeze to death.
“The tea kettle meanwhile was standing on a beautifully set table.
Many splendidly dressed young ladies and gentlemen were sitting around
him and drinking tea out of fine china cups, and eating from lovely
gold-rimmed plates. The tea kettle felt flattered and said to himself:
‘Oh, now I can be anybody’s equal.’ But one of the ladies said: ‘I can
smell tar soap and I think it comes from this tea kettle. I wonder
what that means?’ Her neighbor laughed and said: ‘I noticed it long
ago. I hope it has not been used for washing stockings.’ So they looked
at the kettle and sniffed and turned up their noses with disdain.
“The tea kettle lost his assurance, for he knew quite well that many
hundreds of stockings had been boiled inside of him. The poor thing
had never guessed that the smell of tar soap would stick to him in his
new shape. He felt very cramped and uncomfortable in the society he
was in, and was possessed with the thought of getting away and returning
to the place where he had been comfortable and had been held in high
esteem, for he had really been a first-rate boiler.
“Then suddenly the revolution ceased. The lady of the house who owned
the ice box said: ‘I do not want the horrible ice box any more, which
they have exchanged for my good old ice box. All the ice that comes
out of it tastes of onion soup.’ The copper pan had always cooked this
soup better than any other. ‘Lulu, throw it out to the old iron heap,’
said the lady. So Lulu, the butler, and Lala, the maid, took the ice
box and with terrible might threw her down on the scrap heap, where
old iron, bones and dirt lay in the back yard.
“The ice box felt that all her limbs were giving way and that everything
was going to end badly. She lamented: ‘Oh, if only I had not joined
the revolution! If I had only stayed at home by the cosy fire! Oh, if
only---’ And with that she cracked completely.
“On the same day the young lady on whose table the kettle was standing
said: ‘Now I have had enough of this horrid tar-soap boiler. I want
a genuine tea kettle and not an imitation. Away with this thing!’ So
the butler took the kettle and dashed him down to the heap of rubbish
in the yard. It was the same rubbish heap where his step-sister had
been thrown, and in his fall he broke his own and his step-sister’s
last bones. Then he exclaimed in bitter pain: ‘Oh, if only I had not
joined the revolution! Oh, if I were only home in the peaceful, steaming
laundry.’ Then he was completely smashed by the old muskets that were
used in the revolution and that had been thrown down on top of him.
And this is the end of the story.”
“Yes, they were right. If only they had not joined the revolution!”
Cornelli said sympathetically.
“Yes, and I am right, too,” Dino cried triumphantly. “Just see how
much it helped you to forget your curious bump affair. You have no
more wrinkles on your forehead and you have pushed all your hair away.
You look entirely different; I hardly know you now.”
Cornelli in very truth had been so eager in listening to the story
that with one quick motion she had pushed the hanging curtains out of
her eyes. She had been anxious not to miss a word, and the hair had
bothered her very much. Her whole face had become bright and changed
during the thrilling tale.
“Just look at yourself!” Dino encouraged her, taking a little mirror
from the wall and holding it in front of the little girl.
“No, no, I do not want to see it!” she cried out. In the same moment
she had pulled her hair back again over her eyes, and on her forehead
appeared a lot of wrinkles.
“Don’t get so excited!” said Dino, putting back the mirror. “But I am
awfully glad to know a way to help you. I shall do it every day, but
you must promise to come regularly. I am sure you’ll forget everything
else that worries you, and in the end you’ll forget about it and so
be gay again.”
Cornelli shook her head. “No, you can’t prevent it from getting worse,”
she said, covering her forehead with more hair. However, she took
Dino’s hand as a promise to come again, for she had enjoyed her visit
very much and was looking forward to repeating it.
From that day on, Cornelli wandered over to Martha’s little house as
she had always done. The old woman cried with joy when she heard the
child’s merry laughter after all that time, for it had been a great
grief to her to see the bright child so terribly changed. She loved
to leave the children by themselves, for then they always seemed to
enjoy themselves best. From time to time she heard their happy laughter;
it thrilled her with joy, and she never wanted to interrupt it. She
had seen how Cornelli behaved when listening to one of Dino’s stories;
the little girl was as eager as if she were experiencing it all herself.
In her burning zeal she would fling back her hair, her eyes would
sparkle as in days gone by, and a brightly laughing face would regard
the story teller. Everything else was forgotten for the time; but if
something reminded Cornelli of her own life and troubles, all sunshine
was suddenly gone from her face, her forehead clouded up, and the
horrible sticky hair was again hanging over her eyes.
So Martha always tried to leave the children undisturbed. She had many
hopes for Cornelli on account of this daily intercourse with the
charming boy, whose clear brow was never troubled and who could so
quickly drive away the clouds from his friend’s face.
As soon as Cornelli left the little house and was approaching her own
garden, everything changed back to the old condition. Martha, looking
after the child, could always see the fearful looking hair that so
strangely disfigured the little girl’s pretty face. Then she would
sigh deeply and would say to herself: It seems like a disease, but who
can help her? Oh, if our blessed lady had seen her child so terribly
disfigured!
Cornelli was very much surprised when she found that Saturday evening
had come again, for the last two weeks had flown by very fast.
She ran through the garden. Under the plum tree lay the last fully
ripened dark gold plums. Cornelli picked them up; they were really
splendid, but they had given her no pleasure that year. She took them
with her and put them on Martha’s table.
“Oh, what fine yellow plums! I am sure they taste as sweet as honey,”
exclaimed Dino. “Are they from your garden? When the sun shines on
them in the morning, all the branches seem to sparkle with reddish
gold like a Christmas tree.”
“Yes, they are from the tree. Do you want to eat them?” asked Cornelli.
“With pleasure. But you must eat some, too,” said Dino.
“No, I don’t want to,” Cornelli replied. “Just try whether they are
good. If you do not like them, you can leave them or give them to the
birds.”
“Oh, but there is nothing that tastes as sweet and splendid as these
golden plums!” cried Dino, while he was slowly eating one after another.
“What a shame! I wish I had known how much you like them; you really
ought to have told me,” Cornelli said. “There are none left on the
tree and they are the last that were lying on the grass. But very soon
we’ll have the best juicy pears--they are perfectly delicious, I think,
even better--and then I’ll bring you some every day.”
“Yes, it certainly would be great to have a pear feast with you every
day,” said Dino, looking admiringly at the last reddish plum before
he ate it. “It is easy enough for you, Cornelli. You can stay right
here under the pear tree, but I have to go away. I’ll have to spend
my time behind the school house walls, regretting all that I have
lost.”
“But you are not going away,” said Cornelli with dismay.
It had never occurred to her that this happy companionship could ever
end.
“Yes, I have to. If I could, I would stay here much longer with our
good friend Martha. She is better than anybody I know except my mother,
and she takes care of me as if I were a silkworm.”
“Yes, and when you go, everything is over,” said Cornelli, speaking
as if Dino were her enemy. Her eyes glowed at him from under her hair
and she seemed to be accusing him of some bitter wrong. She now turned
away, as if to say: Now I do not want to hear of anything more. But
Dino understood her sudden anger.
“No, Cornelli,” he said soothingly, “just the opposite will happen.
It is not over at all, because it has only just begun. I have planned
with Martha to-day that I shall come again next summer and the summer
after and every year after that, till we are both old and gray.”
But Cornelli only saw the immediate future before her and what was going
to happen now; she could not look so far ahead.
“Yes, but it is so long till next year, that you are sure to forget
all about me a hundred times,” she said crossly, as if she were chiding
her companion.
“No, I won’t do that,” said Dino quietly. “I won’t forget you once,
least of all a hundred times. I’ll prove it to you, Cornelli. Let us
still have a good time together and enjoy the four remaining days that
I can stay here. Let us look forward, also, to the time when I shall
come again. Just think how much the kid will have grown by then! We
shall be able to drive together. I’ll be the coachman and you’ll be
the lady in the carriage. That will be splendid!”
But Cornelli could no longer be really gay. She always saw the moment
before her when Dino had to say good-bye, and when all their fun would
be over. The morning really came fast enough when she had to take leave
of him in Martha’s cottage. After Dino had driven away, Cornelli buried
her head in her arms and cried piteously. Martha, too, was heavy of
heart, and sat beside her, crying quietly.
That same evening when dinner was done and Cornelli got up from table
to leave the room, the cousin said: “You have not said a single word
to-day, Cornelli. You seem to get worse instead of better! Ought your
father find you worse on coming home than when he left?”
“Good-night,” said Cornelli hoarsely, and left the room without once
looking up.
“There is nothing to be done with her; you can see it for yourself,
Betty. You have thought that we could still produce a change for the
better,” said Miss Dorner, after Cornelli had shut the door behind
her. “What have we accomplished with our best efforts? We have tried
hard enough for her father’s sake. How terrible it will be for him to
live alone with her again! Instead of cheering his lonely life, she
will only cause him worry and trouble. And what a sight she is! Have
you ever seen an obstinacy equal to hers in all your life?”
“No, never,” replied the friend. “It actually seems as if all the
helpful words we have spoken had the opposite effect with her. Whenever
we told her how terrible she looked, the disfiguring hair fringes
always seemed to get worse. I should like to know what one could do
to break her stubborn will. Maybe great severity would do it or bringing
together Cornelli and other children; they might cure her by laughing
at her.”
“I do not believe so, for nothing seems to help,” Miss Dorner concluded.
“My cousin himself, when he comes back, shall decide what to do with
her. But I know that one thing is certain: whatever will be done, she
will never be a joy to her father.”