ON THE PASTURE
The children had no school during the summer months because at that
time they were all needed for light tasks in the fields and meadows.
School began again late in the autumn.
On Monday morning the sun had only just flushed the tops of the
mountains before rising above the wooded heights, when, early as it
was, Stefeli, already neatly washed and dressed, rushed into Vinzi’s
little chamber. She found him still fast asleep.
“Wake up, Vinzi,” she cried out. “The man has just brought back the
cows from the pond and as soon as we have had breakfast, father wants
us to go up to the pasture to watch them. The man has to come back when
we get there. We’ll take lunch with us and stay all day long because
it’s too far to come all the way home. Won’t we have fun eating out of
doors? Please hurry.”
Vinzi had awakened meanwhile. When he gazed at his sister with his
large dark eyes he still seemed lost in revery.
“Oh, I had such a wonderful dream,” he said. “Mother and I were in
Litten, the place we went to last year. We went to church together and
everything was exactly as we had seen it then. An organ was playing the
most beautiful piece and it was more wonderful than I could tell you.
Do you know what an organ sounds like?”
“Oh, Vinzi, you must come now. Please hurry up and don’t talk about an
organ now,” Stefeli urged. “Mother has already taken in the coffee and
father is having breakfast. You know we won’t have any fun if father
gets cross. Do hurry up.”
With these words Stefeli ran away.
Vinzi had realized the truth of his sister’s words. He quickly jumped
out of bed and completed his necessary toilet. Soon he stood in the
room ready to start off. He speedily swallowed his milk and coffee
and stuck the bread into his pocket, before the three others had half
finished theirs. The father, looking at the boy, thought to himself,
“He can hurry if he wants to. Perhaps something can still be done with
him.” The mother had packed the children’s lunch neatly into a bag,
which she hung around Vinzi’s shoulder. Stefeli now came skipping along
with a straw hat on her head and in her hand a rod which Vinzi had
cut for her. This she used for gently urging the cows ahead whenever
they needed it, but she never beat them. When the children went out,
followed by the parents, Vinzi discovered that he had left his whip in
the barn. All cow-herds carried one in order just for fun to flick it
sharply from time to time. A sound like thunder would re-echo from the
mountains roundabout. As Vinzi did not care for this pastime with the
whip he regularly forgot where he had put it. While he hunted about
uncertainly his father began to frown. But suddenly, in leaps and
bounds, his sister, who had noticed where he had left it, appeared with
the whip.
At last the children started off. “Keep the cows from going across the
stream, Vinzi,” the father called after them.
“Take care not to go too near the rushing stream yourselves,” was the
mother’s last reminder.
“Yes, yes,” the children called back gaily, as they hurried along
towards the mountain pasture. As soon as they arrived Stefeli began to
shout violently. She had not forgotten that their man was to return to
the farm as soon as they had arrived to take charge of the cows. He did
not hear for quite a while because he happened to be on the other side
of the roaring stream. Stefeli, however, did not give up till he had
heard and understood her cries. He then hurried away.
“We have to see that the cows stay on our own pasture and that
Schwärzeli does not jump about too much, for if she doesn’t eat she’ll
get thin,” said Stefeli. “Come, Vinzi, let’s sit down over there under
the tree; for if we leave our bag in the sun, the bread will get dry.”
Vinzi, who had already settled down, got up. He followed Stefeli,
watching her while she carefully laid their provisions in the shadow of
the broadest branches. Then they both sat down in the cool shade under
the spreading tree where earlier the ground had been thoroughly dried
by the sun.
[Illustration: THE SHINY BLACK COW WAS GOING IN BIG LEAPS TOWARD THE
RUSHING STREAM]
The fresh morning wind was soughing through the branches and blowing
over the pasture far and wide till its roaring was finally lost in the
distance. Suddenly Stefeli bounded up and shot away like an arrow. With
tail raised high the shiny black cow was going in big leaps towards
the rushing stream. “Schwärzeli, Schwärzeli,” the child called
repeatedly, “Schwärzeli, please wait for me!” But the high-spirited
animal only jumped higher and had nearly reached the stream. “She
will drown if she jumps in,” thought Stefeli, terribly frightened. By
that time they had come to the dangerous place of which the mother
had warned her. “Schwärzeli!” the child called once more with so much
authority in her excited voice that far and wide her echo repeated,
“Schwärzeli, Schwärzeli!”
Suddenly the fugitive stood still and turned around, while Stefeli
rushed breathlessly towards the young heifer, who was quietly awaiting
the arrival of her mistress.
“You are a bad Schwärzeli to scare me so,” Stefeli exclaimed, firmly
grasping the rope about Schwärzeli’s neck, on which a little bell was
fastened. “Just wait! If you go on like this I certainly won’t bring
you any more salt to lick. You know you love it as if it were good
sugar!” Schwärzeli was tenderly rubbing her head on Stefeli’s shoulder
now as if to say, “I meant no harm, but it is such fun to caper across
the meadow.”
“Yes, yes,” Stefeli answered, as if she had understood everything
Schwärzeli had been trying to express, “you want me to forgive you now,
but stop running towards the stream. You can run towards the other side
all you want. Oh, I see, you think it more fun to run downhill than
uphill. I know. Come along with me.”
As the two wandered peacefully back to the place which was meant to be
the pasture of the day, Vinzi met them half way. Quite surprised, he
asked, “But Stefeli, why did you run away? It was so nice under the
tree. I was hearing the most beautiful music. I was just going to ask
you if you heard it too, when I found you were gone. Only then I saw
you coming back with Schwärzeli.”
Despite being used to her brother’s ways, Stefeli could not help being
astonished that he had not been aware of what was going on. She told
him about the chase and her great fear that Schwärzeli might gallop
straight towards the stream, fall down the banks and drown. It was
lucky that the little beast had suddenly become manageable. Stefeli was
eager to know what Vinzi had heard in the meanwhile.
“Oh, it is such a shame you did not hear it,” he said, “for one
can hardly describe such music. A chorus of deep, strong voices was
rising from the tree above me and floating far across the meadow. Then
high, clear voices joined in and were lost in the distance till they
resembled the sounds of waters far away. Oh, it was so beautiful. Come,
we might still hear it if we go back.”
“Go now, Schwärzeli, and behave yourself,” said Stefeli, letting go of
the rope by which she had held the heifer. Then she followed Vinzi.
But she had scarcely settled down beside Vinzi when both jumped up
again. They noticed simultaneously that the brown cow had strolled
as far as a fence which formed the boundary between their own and
another pasture. In order to get through she was pushing hard against
the boards. Soon the children had fetched her back and the cow was
slowly wandering to the proper field. Stefeli discovered an especially
inviting spot where fragrant mountain pinks were nodding in the grass.
“Come, Vinzi, we’ll stay here. I am sure we couldn’t possibly hear the
tunes any more.” To this Vinzi gladly assented. A great peace enveloped
the heights, and the cows were quietly wandering about. Schwärzeli was
usually either at the head or the rear of them, but she gave no more
disorderly leaps. Only when changing ground she trotted about a bit.
The children looked with happy faces at the lovely scene before them.
After enjoying it silently for a while, Stefeli said, “I should just
love to be a cow-herd all my life. Would you like it, too, Vinzi?”
“No, I should not like it,” was his answer.
“But why not?” Stefeli questioned a little reproachfully. “It couldn’t
anywhere be more beautiful than here.”
“Yes, that’s true,” Vinzi admitted, “but I should not like to take
care of cows all my life. I should like another profession better than
watching them and keeping them from running away.”
“What would you rather do?” Stefeli wanted to know.
After meditating a little Vinzi answered, “I don’t know what the
profession is in which I could do what I like best of all.”
“What do you like to do best? I never saw you do it, I think,” Stefeli
said, quite surprised that she should not know.
“I like above all to listen to the bells and all the sounds in the
branches of the trees. Also those that drift down from the mountains
on all sides. Can you hear how it seems to sing everywhere about us?
Can you hear it?” Vinzi’s eyes grew more large and gleaming while he
listened.
Stefeli pricked up her ears. “Those are only the gnats,” she said in a
slightly disdainful voice.
But Vinzi, continued: “When I hear such beautiful sounds I always try
to remember them so that I can sing them or imitate them. I wonder how
I could do it.”
“But that couldn’t be a real profession,” Stefeli interrupted him.
“That’s what I am afraid of, too,” Vinzi admitted, quite discouraged,
“but I can’t help thinking about it all the time. I have cut so many
pipes and have tried out what one can play on them. I already have made
five; on one I can blow very deep, and on another very high tones, and
the others can play middle tones. I was just puzzling out how to play
two or three at the same time, so that they could all sound at once
like the church bells.”
“You might become a piper,” Stefeli exclaimed, quite happy over her
inspiration, “that might be quite a good profession.”
“I don’t know,” Vinzi replied uncertainly. “Father would surely not
let me, even if I could. He found my pipes in the barn one day and
threw them all away. He told me to think of useful things instead of
collecting pipes and thinking about such rubbish.” Poor Vinzi was quite
depressed at those memories and it smote Stefeli’s heart.
“You mustn’t get sad on account of that, Vinzi,” she said comfortingly.
“I am sure father just meant you not to have the pipes at home in the
barn and stable. But why shouldn’t you have them up here in the pasture
and think about them. I can easily watch and call out when I need you.
Then you can go on cutting your pipes and we can put them into a hole
under a tree and take them out when we are up here. I could help you
blow them. I’ll blow the high one and you can play the low one and
they’ll sound together like the bells.”
But these words failed to give Vinzi thorough consolation. He kept
sadly staring at the ground before him and saying nothing more.
“Let’s talk about something else, now,” his sister said decidedly,
for she did not like the effect their conversation had had on Vinzi.
But before another subject was begun Stefeli started up violently,
and calling her brother, flew away. Vinzi, glancing up, ran after her
toward a party of strangers, who had been going over a narrow wooden
bridge which led across the stream, when a little dog belonging to
them suddenly darted into the midst of the cows and yelping loudly,
drove them in every direction. The scared animals rushed hither and
thither in their fright, and Schwärzeli, with her tail raised high,
was galloping to and fro. This urged the dog to still more furious
onslaughts. Stefeli rushed after the cows to quiet them, while Vinzi,
going straight up to the dog, applied his whip so vigorously that
the animal turned about and ran whining after the party. All this
had proved to be such hot work that the children sought together the
welcome shade under the big tree and flung themselves down there.
They felt in need of regaining their breath and cooling off under the
deliciously swaying branches. The cows also were peaceful again.
“I wish the dog had been on the side where the path leads up to the
pasture,” Vinzi said now, sitting up. “I saw the most brilliant red
flower there and it looked perfectly enormous, even from where I was.
I never saw a bigger one; I’d run down to get it if it were not so far
away. It is getting very hot.”
“Oh, I can find it,” Stefeli said with determination. “If the flower is
so wonderful I won’t mind going so far.”
Vinzi was just going to declare himself willing to fetch the flower
for Stefeli, when the latter sped away so fast that the boy could not
possibly have caught up with her. Therefore he stayed seated and as the
noonday bell was ringing in the village below, he forgot everything
else in listening to its sounds.
“Here is your flower,” a voice suddenly said beside him as Stefeli
laid a brilliant red cloth before her brother. Having been lost in
deep thoughts he had not noticed how the time had passed and he could
not wonder enough at Stefeli’s speedy return. He meditatively looked
at what he had imagined to be a flower. It had the same deep red the
flower had had, but he could not help wondering where he had seen that
cloth before. “Oh, I know now,” he exclaimed suddenly, “I saw it on the
chair near Mrs. Troll’s house where the little girl was. It must belong
to her.”
Stefeli also remembered having seen a red object there and besides
that she had seen some children in the party near the bridge. They
must have been the same children. Vinzi began to consider what to do
with the cloth, and as it was best to immediately return to the owner
whatever was found, he wanted to run right over to Mrs. Troll’s house
and take it along. But Stefeli would not hear of this, because dinner
time had come for everyone and there was plenty of time in which to
do it later. As soon as Stefeli mentioned lunch, Vinzi suddenly felt
how immensely hungry he was and saw that his sister was right. He set
to work and gathering thin, dry sticks from under the tree, built a
little fire and lit it. As the wood was very dry, the flames leaped up
gaily. Stefeli had transformed the grassy ground into an appetizing
dinner table, set with two large slices of buttered bread and two snow
white eggs which their mother had cooked at home, and which only needed
peeling. Stefeli brought the bag near the fire and only waited for
the right moment when the wood had burnt low to put the clean round
potatoes one after another into the coals. Soon they smoked and sizzled
so invitingly that the children were glad when, with a willow stick,
they could lift them out of the glowing ashes. As soon as the potatoes
had cooled off a bit, the children heartily bit into them and ate them
all, including the firmly-baked crust, which was really the best part.
They did not despise the rest of their lunch, and Vinzi attacked his
bread and butter vigorously, while Stefeli heartily enjoyed her egg.
All morning the cows had been pasturing busily, so the time had come
for them also to rest a bit. One after the other they lay down on a
fine, sunny spot. Even Schwärzeli had settled down, but her little
black head moved from side to side in a lively manner which showed that
one could not yet quite trust her to be quiet.
The children had neatly cleaned up their place under the tree, for
egg-shells and scraps of paper were not to be left on the fine green
carpet of their living room. Looking out over the pasture, they were
happily enjoying the deep peace about them.
“I might take the shawl back now,” said Vinzi after a while. “Don’t you
think the cows will stay quiet till I come back?”
“Yes, I think so,” Stefeli replied. “The big ones are sure to lie down
for a while, and if Schwärzeli begins to jump about and wants to run
towards the stream, I can lure her here. I kept the salt mother gave us
for our eggs, we both took none and Schwärzeli just loves it.”
Vinzi took up the red shawl which Stefeli had neatly folded up and
ran away. Despite his speed it was a good quarter of an hour before
he stood in front of Mrs. Troll’s house. The front door was open and
everything in the house was still. Somebody was apparently hoeing in
the garden, it was probably Mrs. Troll herself. Suddenly, however,
quite different sounds drew the boy irresistibly up the stairs. Through
a half-open door quite near at hand he caught a delightful, gay melody.
Walking up close he laid his ear on the door to listen. But as Vinzi,
in his desire to hear, had strongly pushed his head against it, it
suddenly flew wide open. As soon as the little musician, who was
sitting on a high stool before the instrument, saw Vinzi, she sprang up
and went to him.
“Oh, did you find my shawl? How quickly you have brought it back!”
she called out, spying the shawl in Vinzi’s hand. “It’s lucky for
me because Miss Landrat has already scolded me for losing it. As
punishment for my carelessness I was to go all the way back where papa
and the other gentleman took us this morning. I was to look for it, but
as it was so far she refused to go along. I’ll give you some reward for
finding it. What would you like to have?”
Vinzi was still gazing full of surprise at the wonder-child, who had
played such gorgeous music and was now talking to him exactly as if she
had known him a long, long time. Hesitating with his answer, he finally
asked a little shyly, “Can I really say what I want?”
“Certainly,” his new acquaintance replied firmly. “But you know,” she
continued, “only ask for something I can really give you, not perhaps a
boat or a real, live horse.”
“Oh, no, I don’t mean anything like that. I only want to hear the music
again.”
“The music? Do you mean the piece I was playing when you came in? But
I don’t call that a present. What is your name?” the girl suddenly
changed her line of thought.
“Vinzi,” he informed her.
“Is it? My name is Alida Thornau,” she continued. “When I have to
practice I find it so dreadfully tiresome that I always play a little
piece between whiles. Do you have to practice, too?”
“What is practicing?” asked Vinzi.
“Oh, you are lucky if you don’t know what that is,” Alida exclaimed.
“You see, practicing is sitting still on a round stool and playing up
and down on a piano with your hands. This is called playing scales, and
repeating the same tones about thirty times to and fro is called finger
practice.”
“Why do you have to practice?” asked Vinzi, wondering deeply.
“Because one has to obey,” replied Alida, “and I have to practice every
day from two to three o’clock because Miss Landrat tells me to. I have
no lessons here the way I have in Hamburg. Every time father comes down
here I have to promise him to obey Miss Landrat. He is up at the baths
with my mother because she is ill.”
“How did you learn to play that beautiful piece?” Vinzi inquired,
following all her information with great interest.
“Oh, one can easily do that when one practices so much and knows the
notes. All one has to do is to play the notes that are written there,”
was Alida’s explanation.
“Oh, you are lucky to be allowed to practice so much,” said Vinzi,
gazing at the piano with such an expression of longing that Alida
suddenly remembered the reward he had been promised.
“I’ll play you the piece now,” she said. “Shut the door and come near
to me so that you can hear it well.”
Vinzi obeyed and expectantly posted himself behind the piano stool.
With an eagerness never before exhibited, Alida played her Spring Song
through, never once stopping or hesitating till she came to the end.
Never had such a thing happened before! To have such a keen listener
had made her able to perform unusually well.
Vinzi stared at her fingers as if her playing were a miracle. In a
mirror which hung over the piano Alida had seen how breathlessly he
followed her. This pleased her and when she had finished the piece she
began it all over again. In the midst of it she suddenly seemed to be
struck by a new idea. She paused abruptly and turning about on her
chair she asked, “Would you like to learn how to play the piano?”
Vinzi’s eyes sparkled, but only for a moment; in the next he looked at
the floor saying sadly, “Oh, I never could do it.”
[Illustration: VINZI STARED AT HER FINGERS AS IF HER PLAYING WERE A
MIRACLE]
“Oh, yes, you could easily,” replied Alida with conviction. “I can
teach you and you’ll soon know all I know. You can practice with me and
that will be heaps more fun than to sit and play here all alone. You
can play a little piece like the one you like so much. It won’t take
you long. Do you want to?”
Vinzi’s eyes had grown bigger and bigger with surprise and longing. The
incomprehensible joy of playing music like that himself, lay suddenly
before him. All he had to do was to say yes. Everything was to be so
easy and perfectly natural. He could not believe that he might be
granted such happiness.
But his great inner emotion kept him from uttering a sound.
“Why don’t you say yes? I am sure you must want to if you like it so
much,” Alida said with slight impatience. “You can come here every
day at two o’clock because Miss Landrat always takes a walk with Hugo
at that time. I am supposed to practice till three and sometimes even
longer if they happen to be away. Then we’ll be quite alone and I can
teach you everything. We can either play together or take turns.”
When Vinzi saw it so clearly put before him it seemed at last possible.
With a voice clearly showing his delight he said, “There is nothing I
should love better in this world.”
“So now it’s all settled that you come to me tomorrow,” said Alida with
satisfaction, “or do you want to begin today?”
However anxious Vinzi was to do so, he realized that he had already
stayed away from Stefeli long enough. But he gladly gave his promise
to come the next day, if nothing prevented him from doing so. He could
hardly yet believe his good fortune, but Alida’s sureness about the
matter proved catching and he ran away in high glee. The thought of
what Stefeli would say to the plan chiefly occupied his mind, as he ran
along. Maybe she would refuse to be left alone each day and perhaps she
would think their father might be angry if he knew. Therefore he still
felt slightly uncertain.
When he reached the pasture he found everything in perfect order. The
cows were lying on the self-same spots and Schwärzeli was wandering
quietly about. He ran to Stefeli, who sat under a tree singing a song.
“What a long time you have been away,” said Stefeli, interrupting her
song. “What did she say?”
Vinzi, sitting down beside his sister, began to relate what had
happened. She heard of the joyous prospect Alida had offered him,
namely, to go to her an hour every day to practice. But he had not yet
accepted because he did not know what Stefeli would say to being left
alone for a whole hour every day.
Stefeli pondered for a moment. “You can easily do it, Vinzi,” she said
eagerly. “I know that it will please you more than anything.”
“Oh, yes, I know it, too,” said Vinzi with gleaming eyes. “Don’t you
think that there won’t be much trouble with the cows at that time? They
are still quiet.”
“There won’t be any,” Stefeli reassured him. “All the time you were
gone they lay still and looked around. Schwärzeli just walked about and
it is like this every afternoon.”
Vinzi had known it well, but was glad to have Stefeli’s confirmation.
Vinzi’s new prospect had made the children talkative, and they
discussed the coming events and their possible consequences. They could
talk without any interruption, for the cows were feeding quietly again,
as they were supposed to do. All at once the sound of horns could be
heard from different sides, warning them that the time had come to
drive the cattle home to be milked.
Vinzi leaped up with surprise when he realized how quickly the evening
had come. Stefeli took the bag on her arm and her stick in her hand and
fetched Schwärzeli from where she was wandering about. Vinzi whistled
and called his cows together and before long the children were on their
way home with the little herd. The father was already waiting for them
near the stable. On the days when the children had to go to the pasture
with the cows their work was done for the day when they came home. As
soon as their father returned from the stable they had supper, and soon
after, when the mother had finished her tasks in the kitchen, she sat
down to sing with them; after this they went to bed, and gladly, too,
knowing that next morning another early start had to be made.