A MOTHER
When Mr. Hellmut sat down to his coffee in the morning he always found
letters and newspapers on the breakfast table.
“Good gracious!” he exclaimed on the morning after the ladies’
departure, “what correspondents have you in town, Cornelli? Here is
a letter for you.”
Cornelli, looking up from her cup, glanced incredulously at the letter.
“It is really for you. Listen! Miss Cornelli Hellmut, Iller-Stream,
Iron Foundry,” the father read. “Here it is!”
Cornelli opened the letter under great suspense and read:
DEAR CORNELLI:
Only think! I am ill and have to lie in bed. The doctor has forbidden
me to read and write, so this letter will be very short. It is very
tiresome to be sick, for my sisters are in school all day. Mama always
has a lot to attend to and Mux is still a very useless little fellow.
Could you not come here and pay me a little visit? I should love to
see you and should enjoy hearing all about Iller-Stream. You could
tell me all about good old Martha, whom I love nearly as much as a
grandmother, about your little kid and Matthew, the horses and
everything else, and especially about yourself. I always had such a
good time with you that I should be terribly pleased if you came to
visit me. Please come very, very soon! Your faithful friend,
DINO.
When Cornelli was folding up the letter again, her father said: “Can
I read it, too?”
Cornelli promptly handed him her letter.
“What friend is this that wants you to come to visit him?” the father
asked with astonishment. “I expect you to cry immediately, though, for
you might have to go to town.”
“Oh, no, Papa, I really would love to see him,” said Cornelli. “It is
Dino, who stayed with Martha this summer.”
The father put down his spoon from pure surprise and looked wonderingly
at his daughter.
“How strange you are, Cornelli!” he said finally. “Now you suddenly
want to visit a strange family. You only know this boy and you do not
hesitate about it and are not even shy about appearing in your present
condition.”
“Dino knows me well and knows that I would come to see him alone. He
will arrange everything for me so that I won’t have to see his mother
or his sisters. He knows everything,” was Cornelli’s explanation.
“That has no sense at all,” the father said curtly, and gathering up
his papers he went away.
Soon afterwards he entered Martha’s little house.
“Here I am again. I wonder what you will say to me?” he called to the
surprised old woman. “Here is a letter with an invitation which came
for Cornelli to-day. It is from a boy who stayed with you. Who is he?
Who are his parents?”
This question made Martha fairly overflow with praises of the boy. She
told Mr. Hellmut that she had never known a boy who was so polite and
friendly to simple folks as this boy had been; he had been well brought
up, had the most refined and charming manners, and was well educated,
and at the same time so simple and childishly devoted to old, plain
Martha. She had never read letters like the mother’s letter to her
son, so beautiful, affectionate and elevating. He had always read them
to her, and she had had to cry every time from sheer emotion. She had
never before seen as beautiful linen as the boy had worn, and it had
all been his two sisters’ work.
“Martha,” the Director finally interrupted her, “according to your
account, it would be a great blessing for my daughter to spend even
a day in such a family.”
“If you would really take her there, Director, I certainly would be
happy--ah! I would not know a greater happiness.”
Martha had to wipe her eyes, she was so stirred.
“You shall know it, Martha. We’ll go tomorrow, and on the same evening
you shall hear an account of all that happened.” With these words the
Director seized her hand, and after shaking it heartily, departed.
“Get everything ready, Cornelli! We are going to town to-morrow,” he
called to his daughter, who sat on the garden bench quietly thinking.
“Esther shall call you early, at six o’clock.”
“Indeed, I shall,” came Esther’s voice through some open window. She
was a good sentinel, for she always seemed to know what was going on
in the house and its immediate neighborhood.
Early next morning the two shiny brown horses were trotting down the
valley. They had to go for four full hours, but that seemed a pure
pleasure to them; the longer they ran, the more spirit they seemed to
get, and Matthew had to keep them from galloping all the time.
In her corner Cornelli meditated as to how she could tell the maid at
her arrival that she wanted to visit no one but Dino, and wanted to
be taken straight to his room. She planned also to forbid Dino to call
his sisters and his mother, for she wanted to see him alone. She would
pay Dino a long visit and then steal quietly away without being noticed.
She was also reflecting about everything she wanted to tell her friend.
First of all, she had to tell him that the news had at last come out
regarding who had been standing on the sofa. She had told him all about
this deep grief she had borne for so long.
So they came to town much sooner than Cornelli had ever thought
possible. The carriage was already halting before the hotel where her
father usually stopped, and Cornelli jumped down.
“Shall I come back again in four hours, Papa?” she asked. “I can find
my way alone, for Dino has described it to me.”
“Stop, stop! That is not the way; I am coming, too,” the father said.
Cornelli was quite sorry not to be able to start off alone, for that
had been her plan. Now everything was quite different.
As Dino had written his exact address in his letter and the Director
knew his way about town very well, they passed quickly from street to
street till they reached a narrow little lane. Here stood the house
they had been seeking. When finally four high stairs had been climbed,
the Director stood on the highest narrow step where the door took up
half of the standing room.
“If the inhabitants correspond to their dwelling place, we shall
probably not remain here very long,” he said, looking up doubtfully
at the inconvenient entrance.
“Dino does not correspond,” said Cornelli quickly. She had not quite
understood her father’s words, but felt them to be an attack on her
friend.
“Climb up there, Cornelli, and pull the bell-rope!” he commanded. “When
the door is open I’ll probably find room to stand there, too.”
Cornelli obeyed. A slender girl a good deal taller than Cornelli opened
the door and looked with surprise at the new arrivals through a pair
of dark and serious eyes. Cornelli retreated suddenly.
“Well, what I see is not very dreadful,” the Director said, stepping
forward.
“How do you do, child. Is your mother at home, and can I speak to her
a moment?”
The girl who had opened the door was Nika. With great politeness she
led the gentleman to a room and informed him that she would go at once
to fetch her mother, who was with her sick brother.
Upon her polite invitation the Director followed her, and settled down
in an arm-chair. He looked about him with astonishment at the small
but scrupulously neat room, which was decorated with several charming
pictures.
When Nika neared the door, Cornelli said to her in a low voice: “I
want to visit Dino.”
“Come, I’ll show you the way,” came a small voice from behind the door.
It was Mux, who had quickly hidden there to peep with curious eyes at
the new arrivals. He came out and seizing Cornelli’s hand, pulled her
away with him. The mother had heard the stranger’s voice and at this
moment entered from an adjoining chamber.
“She does not correspond, either, as Cornelli puts it,” the Director
said to himself with a smile. He rose and introduced himself. “Following
your son’s summons, Mrs. Halm, I have brought you my daughter,” he
said. “She can stay a few hours with her sick friend, if that suits
you, and then she can join me again at my hotel.”
“I am so much obliged to you for the great favor of bringing her. My
son has looked forward so much to this visit. We all know and love
Cornelli already from what he has told us about her. She has been so
kind to him and has entertained him so well when he was alone in
Iller-Stream that she has earned his and my sincere thanks. Could I
not beg of you to leave Cornelli here for a few days, or at least for
all of to-day?”
“You are very kind, Mrs. Halm,” he replied, quite astonished to hear
that his shy, unfriendly child should have furnished the boy any
entertainment. “Those are just polite words,” he said to himself, but
aloud he added: “I am afraid that it won’t be possible, for my child
would not stay. She is very shy and has all kinds of peculiar habits,
as you probably have noticed from her looks. Your daughter certainly
looks different.”
“I shall not keep Cornelli here against her will, of course, but may
I hope to have your permission if the child should want to stay?”
The rector’s widow had such a pleasing manner that it was hard to
refuse her anything. The Director therefore gladly assented, for it
was his wish as well as hers.
“Certainly, Mrs. Halm, I shall joyfully give it,” he assured her. “What
could please me more than to have my daughter in surroundings like
these? But I am perfectly certain that Cornelli will desire to go back
with me. Just the same, I want to thank you sincerely for your great
kindness; it will help her to spend even a single day in your charming
household.”
The Director said farewell and departed. At the entrance door down
stairs a school girl, carrying her schoolbag and books, ran towards
him so violently that a collision could not be avoided, so the Director
opened his arms wide and caught Agnes in them. Agnes always approached
everything like a wind storm. She could not behave otherwise. The
Director laughed heartily and so did Agnes.
“I am sure you belong to Mrs. Halm, too,” he said, looking with pleasure
at the lively face with the wide-open, bright eyes. How nice and trim
everything was about her!
“Yes, indeed,” she replied quickly, and ran away.
“What a happy mother, what a happy woman!” said the Director to himself.
“And to compare my child to such children. I cannot bear it! Such
children, and mine beside them!”
Dino had told his mother about his experiences in Iller-Stream and
especially of his acquaintance with Cornelli. He had also related to
her the child’s strange trouble, but she had had to give her promise
to keep it to herself. It did not seem wrong to Dino to tell his mother,
because she always knew everything he knew. When the invitation had
been sent to Cornelli, Mrs. Halm had seriously told the children not
to make any remarks about Cornelli’s hair in case she should come. She
had told them not to show any surprise if Cornelli wore her hair in
a rather strange fashion and not to notice it further; that was the
way the mother wished it to be.
Little Mux was very much pleased at having a new companion. He looked
upon her as an old acquaintance, for Dino had talked so much about
her. First he took her to see the kitchen.
“But I am sure Dino does not sleep here,” said Cornelli, surprised.
“No, this is the kitchen; there are no beds here,” Mux asserted. “But
I shall show you first why Agnes cried one whole hour to-day, or perhaps
it was two.” And Mux led his new friend to a whole pile of apple peels
which lay in a bucket. “Isn’t Agnes stupid to cry when we get good
apple tarts afterwards.”
“But why did she cry?” asked Cornelli, full of sympathy. She knew
exactly what it was like when one simply had to cry.
“We don’t know,” retorted Mux.
“But why does the maid not peel the apples?” asked Cornelli again.
“There is no maid, except block-headed Trina,” Mux informed her.
“Who is block-headed Trina?” Cornelli wanted to know.
“She has to help; she is small and fat,” Mux described her. “Mama has
to show her how to cook, and she has to fetch what we need and always
brings the wrong thing. So Dino says: ‘We really must send block-headed
Trina away.’ And then Mama says: ‘Trina has to live, too.’ And then
she is not sent away after all.”
Cornelli had great sympathy for Agnes, who apparently had a secret
trouble like her own; she did not have to be afraid of her, as she was
of the proud sister who had received her.
“I am sure, Mux, that your other sister never cries. Are you not afraid
of her?” asked Cornelli.
“Not the least little bit,” replied the little boy. “She often makes
a face, though, as if she wanted to cry and a thousand, thousand times
she begins to when nobody knows why. I don’t know why, either, for she
doesn’t tell me.”
Immediately Cornelli’s great shyness of Nika changed into great pity.
If Nika could not even talk about her sorrow, she might have the deepest
sorrow of all.
“Now we shall go to Dino,” she said, hurrying to the door which the
little boy had pointed out to her.
“But wait! I shall first show you our big picture book. You’ll love
it,” Mux assured her. “There is something in it that looks just like
you; it is an owl that has rags over its eyes like you. But you must
not talk about it, because Mama has forbidden it.”
“No, no, I don’t want to see the book. Please take me to Dino now,”
Cornelli urged.
Mux pulled Cornelli away from the kitchen at last and, not far from
there, opened a door.
“Are you coming at last, Cornelli?” Dino cried to her. He was sitting
up in bed. He glanced happily at his approaching friend, and Cornelli,
too, felt deep joy at seeing him again. The hours she had spent with
him had been the only happy ones she had had all summer. Quickly sitting
down by his bed, she began to relate to him everything that had happened
in Iller-Stream since his departure. Dino asked many questions that
Cornelli had to answer, and the time went by they knew not how.
Mux had disappeared. As long as he could not have his new friend’s
whole attention, he preferred to find out what was being prepared for
dinner in the kitchen.
Now the mother entered the room.
“I have hardly seen you yet, dear child,” she said, taking Cornelli’s
hand, “but I thought I would leave you and Dino undisturbed for a
little while. You must have many things to talk over about your
experiences and friends in Iller-Stream. Dino has looked forward so
much to your visit. Please come to lunch now. Dino has to sleep a
little while afterwards, and then you can go back to him again, if you
wish.”
A difficult moment had now come for Cornelli. She had secretly hoped
that she would be able to spend all day alone with Dino, and that
nobody else would notice her. Now she had to sit at table with Dino’s
mother and sisters. Mux, however, was her consolation; he seemed so
confiding and so friendly. She had felt immediately to her great
discomfort how different and how horrible she looked in comparison
with these charming children. When she had stood in front of Nika, who
was so very pretty, she felt sure that the elder girl must be filled
with disgust at the sight of her, even if she did not show it. Mux had
seen her peculiarity immediately and had remarked upon it. And now
Agnes would be there, too.
That Agnes, as well as the proud-looking Nika, had a secret sorrow
made Cornelli feel as if there were a bond between them. This gave her
a little courage to follow Dino’s mother, who was waiting in the
doorway. When Cornelli entered Agnes was standing, full of expectation,
in the middle of the room. Going up to the visitor, she shook her hand.
“I am so glad you came, Cornelli,” she said with animation. “Dino has
talked so much about you that we, too, wanted to meet you.”
“I want to sit beside you,” said Mux, dragging his chair to Cornelli’s
side.
“Just stay where you are! That is my seat,” Agnes cut him short. She
could not be misunderstood, for she pushed back the chair and Mux quite
vigorously.
The mother had again gone out to the kitchen, so he could not get her
help, which made him very angry.
“Yes, yes, you always want to order everybody around all the time,”
he cried out furiously, “and you even broke somebody on the wheel,
once.”
Now the mother entered.
“Oh, Mama, Mux is saying such frightful things. Shouldn’t he go to
bed?” Agnes called to her.
Mux was just gathering up his strength to fight against this proposed
punishment, when the mother cut short their quarrel.
“No, no,” she said kindly. “To-day Cornelli is here for the first time
and it is a feast day for us. Mux shall not go to bed, but he must sit
down quietly in his chair and say grace; then all will be well.”
Mux was soon calmed by the soothing words and the good soup’s delicious
odor which penetrated his nostrils. So he said grace in quite a
tolerable manner. Cornelli had been very much touched by his desire
to sit beside her. She was anxious to do him a favor, too, and she
tried to think of something that might please him.
Directly after lunch Nika and Agnes had to hurry off to school again
and the mother had to supervise Trina’s work, so Mux was entrusted
with the task of entertaining Cornelli for a little while. That suited
him exactly.
“Now, I’ll show you that Agnes has really broken a man on the wheel,”
he said triumphantly.
“But I don’t believe it, Mux. And why should the man have held still?”
asked Cornelli.
“You can read it here. See, it is written there!” said Mux, placing
his picture book on Cornelli’s lap and pointing to a splendid colored
picture. “Read what is written here,” he directed. “Dino once read it
aloud to me and then I knew it.”
Cornelli read aloud: “Agnes orders Rudolph von Warth to be bound to
the wheel.”
“Now you see it,” Mux said complacently.
Cornelli did not quite know what the picture was supposed to mean, so
she began to read the story that explained it. She read more eagerly
each instant, for it was described so vividly that she had to consume
one page after another.
“Now you know it,” said Mux a little impatiently. “Now look at the goat
wagon.”
“But Mux,” Cornelli said eagerly, “it is quite a different Agnes, it
is a queen. You must never think any more that your sister has done
such a dreadful thing.”
“Oh, but look at the goat wagon, now,” begged Mux, a little
disappointed.
“Why is the child here crying on the road? Just look how he is pressing
his hands up to his eyes! Oh, he is so unhappy! Do you know why?”
Mux shook his head.
“Then I have to read it quickly,” said Cornelli. She became so absorbed
in the story that she did not notice how Mux was pulling her and urging
her to stop reading; he even shook the book.
The mother came into the room now and said: “Dino has shortened his
rest a little, for he is longing to see you again, Cornelli. Will you
come?”
Cornelli immediately shut the book, for she was extremely glad to go
to her friend. She felt some regret, however, at having to leave the
story unfinished; she would have loved to know what happened further.
“So you like the book? It was the joy of all my children from the
oldest to the youngest,” said the mother. Cornelli’s regretful glance
at it had not escaped her. “You can look at it again later on, for we
still have lots of time.”
But Cornelli had to talk over so many things with Dino that the time
had passed before they had thought it possible, and it was not long
before Mux came running with the message that supper was ready. The
meal had to be early because Cornelli had to leave immediately after
it.
“Oh, what a shame!” said Cornelli, jumping up because she knew her
father did not like to wait.
“Bring mother here, Mux,” said Dino, and the little one departed.
“Wouldn’t you like to stay with us a few days, Cornelli? It would be
so nice. Wouldn’t you like to? Oh, I think you would!” said Dino
eagerly.
Cornelli had quite a strange sensation. She hardly dared to say yes;
it seemed so incredible to her that everybody in the house should be
so friendly to her and really want her to stay. But that probably would
not last if she remained and they got to know her better. Soon the
mother came in with Mux. The little boy had heard Dino’s last words
to Cornelli and had already announced to his mother that Cornelli was
sure to stay, because Dino would not let her go.
“Oh, I am so glad that you have settled it all between you! I am so
pleased that you are going to stay, Cornelli,” she said, full of joy.
“I was just going to propose it to you, and I am so glad that Dino has
persuaded you. Your father has already given me his permission and all
I have to do is to let him know right away. Now you can stay quietly
together, for there is no hurry about supper.”
The mother immediately wrote to Mr. Hellmut, and soon after that, fat
little Trina was running over to the hotel.
Cornelli had again settled down beside Dino with a mixed feeling of
wonderful delight and fear. He noticed her timidity.
“Oh, yes, Dino, I love to stay with you and Mux,” she assured him.
“Your mother is so good to me, too, but I am afraid of your two sisters.
I have to think of poor little block-headed Trina all the time, when
she does everything wrong and does not know how to do otherwise; you
all despise her for it and she can’t help it. I know what it is like
to be so block-headed.”
Dino had to laugh a little.
“Why do you suddenly think of our Trina?” he asked. “Do not worry about
her, for mother is very good to her. Just be happy, Cornelli, and do
not imagine all kinds of things about block-headed Trina.”
Cornelli did not say another word, but Dino noticed that she kept on
thinking just the same. After a while the mother came to announce that
it was time for Dino’s rest. The prospect of seeing each other again
on the following day was a great consolation to them both.
Then Cornelli and the mother went back to the room where the sisters
were sitting at their school work. Mux was bending over his picture
book, hatching out new ideas, no doubt. Just then the half grown Trina
entered with a basket on her arm. While she was passing Nika’s chair,
her basket got caught on it. Pulling violently to free it, she turned
the chair around quite suddenly.
“You are getting more awkward every day, Trina,” Nika said crossly.
Cornelli blushed. She felt as if these words were meant for her as
well. She must be just as awkward in Nika’s eyes as Trina was. The
latter failed to excuse herself and from embarrassment became more
clumsy in her movements. Cornelli understood this perfectly; that was
what she always did, she knew it quite well.
“Now we shall have supper,” said the mother, “and when the children’s
work is done we shall all sing together. Don’t you sing, too, Cornelli?”
“I probably do not know the songs, and so I can’t sing,” she replied
shyly.
After supper Mux fled back to Cornelli with his book. He wanted to
renew his conversation with her, but his mother had a different plan.
“Give your book to Cornelli, for it is time for you to retire,” she
said. “You can join us again to-morrow.”
Mux departed reluctantly.
When his mother was firmly leading him away, he was still able to call
to Cornelli: “Be sure not to go till I come back!”
Cornelli felt quite frightened when her confiding little friend had
gone. Now for the first time she was left alone with the two sisters.
She wondered what would happen. But nothing happened. They were both
so deeply occupied with their work that they did not even raise their
heads. Cornelli now remembered the lovely story book. She had already
begun a story and she simply had to know how it would end. So she began
to read. As soon as she finished one story, a new wonderful picture
would lead her to another story.
Suddenly some splendid music sounded close beside her, and Cornelli
started. Agnes was sitting at the piano close to her side and playing.
Cornelli could not read any more, for Agnes played one lovely tune
after another as quickly and easily as if it did not cause her any
trouble. She knew from Dino that Agnes was not much more than a year
older than she was. She listened with admiration to the beautiful
melodies that were pouring forth from the instrument. Finally the
mother returned. She had made her nightly visit to Dino and had had
several things to say to him.
“Mama,” Agnes called to her eagerly, “I am playing all the merry pieces
I know to-night, for I have just finished my long composition.”
“You are right, Agnes. And how are you getting along with your painting,
Nika?” asked the mother.
Nika replied quite sadly that she had hoped to finish it that day, but
the days were very short now and she could not paint by lamp light.
Her mother should see how little her work still lacked.
“If I had one hour more of daylight, I could finish it,” she sighed.
Nika placed a large painting under the bright lamp. It somewhat
resembled the beautiful pictures which decorated the walls of the room.
The colors in it were perfectly wonderful, and Cornelli had never
before seen such a lovely picture. Sparkling crimson roses were hanging
down an old wall and dense ivy was creeping up between them with shiny
green leaves. An old oak tree was stretching large gnarled branches
over the decayed wall, and below, a clear stream was peacefully flowing
out to a meadow, where glowing red and blue flowers seemed to greet
it joyfully.
Cornelli stared at the lovely picture; she had never seen anything
like this glittering stream, the painted trees and flowers; one seemed
to hear the murmuring of the brook, far, far away through the meadow.
It was all so full of life! And to think that Nika had painted it!
Cornelli felt as if a deep, deep gulf lay between her and the two
sisters, a chasm that separated her from them forever.
The two sisters seemed to stand before her like two splendid creatures,
full of beauty and fine gifts, while she stood there a stupid, awkward,
block-headed Trina, whom nobody on earth ever could possibly love.
Mrs. Halm gave Nika great encouragement by praising her work and urging
her to begin promptly next day.
Then she sat down at the piano, for they always concluded their evening
with a song.
Cornelli remained still. The rector’s wife urged her to join them, but
Cornelli had had too many impressions that day to be able to sing. She
knew quite well the old evening song that they were singing, for Martha
had taught it to her long ago, but she felt as if she could not utter
a note.
At the end of the song Agnes suddenly exploded: “Oh, mother, that is
nothing at all. When you are hoarse and Dino is in bed, our singing
is frightful. Nika only squeaks like a little chicken with a sore
throat.”
“Well, then one has to stop singing,” said Nika, shaking her shoulders
a little proudly.
“No, the whole household has to sing, otherwise it is not worth
anything,” Agnes declared. “It is a shame that the most beautiful thing
in the world should be so little practiced.”
After the song was ended the mother took Cornelli kindly by the hand
and said: “I am sure that you are tired, dear child. I am going to
take you to a tiny bedroom, for I have no larger one. Your door leads
into Agnes’ and Nika’s room,” she continued, when she was standing
with Cornelli in the little chamber.
“You can open the door and then you are practically all three in a
single room.”
Then she said good-night cordially and wished Cornelli a good rest.
Nika and Agnes quickly said good-night, too, and then Cornelli was
alone in her room.
She had no desire to open the door, for her shyness had only increased
since her arrival. How high the two stood above her! Cornelli was not
a bit sleepy and kept on thinking of all the things that had happened
to her that day.
What did Agnes mean when she spoke about the most beautiful thing in
the world? Did she mean singing? That was not the most beautiful thing
by any means. The most wonderful of all was a painting like Nika’s,
with lovely roses and trees and the meadow with clear water. At last
Cornelli’s eyes closed, but she kept on seeing the flowers and seemed
to be looking up admiringly at Nika, who stood beside her, tall and
beautiful. Cornelli thought: If she would only say one pleasant word
to me. Then Nika turned around to her and said: “You are an awkward,
block-headed Cornelli!” All this Cornelli saw and heard in her dream.
Agnes said to her sister in the other room: “If only Cornelli would
say something! One cannot tell what she is thinking about. How could
Dino find her so amusing, and become her friend? She sits there all
the time and never says a word.”
“That is her least fault,” Nika returned. “But it is horrid that she
insists on looking like a wild islander. I do not understand why Mama
did not push the frightful locks out of her eyes.”