UNLOOKED-FOR EVENTS
As soon as Vinzi was awake next morning he wished it were two o’clock
right away, for he simply dreaded the long morning he had to live
through before his lesson. But it went by much more quickly than he
expected. A lot of running about had been necessary to keep the cows
together, as they were always very lively at that time.
When lunch was over and the cows had settled down to rest, Vinzi looked
steadily towards the mountains. Suddenly rising from the ground he
said, “It must be two o’clock now. Yesterday the sun was just above
that rocky peak when I got back. In an hour it will be above the peak.”
“Yes, Vinzi. The sooner you go the sooner you’ll be back. I want to
hear all about it,” said Stefeli.
Vinzi lost no time. As he was climbing up the steps at Mrs. Troll’s he
found Alida waiting for him. “You came at just the right time,” she
called to him; “they are both away and we’ll be entirely alone. You
must always come at this time.”
When Vinzi entered the room he glanced quickly at the clock. “I
know exactly how high the sun must be when I leave,” he said with
satisfaction. “It is just ten minutes after two.”
“Let’s start in now,” Alida proposed. “First, I’ll tell you what the
notes are called, and next, which of the keys one has to play on. After
that you can begin.”
She took up a little sheet of music and began to teach him. As Alida
did not care to linger long over anything her instruction was rather
hurried. But Vinzi had so attentively followed every word and had
comprehended her so quickly, that his teacher proceeded as rapidly as
she had wished.
“I’ll show you the keys now. As soon as you play a bit you’ll get to
know the notes better,” she said. Reading the notes to him had begun to
seem extremely tiresome.
As she taught him the keys, Alida played them too in order to make the
lesson more vivid.
Vinzi could not help wondering profoundly.
“How is the music made?” he asked suddenly.
“It is already made and printed in the book, from which we can read and
play it,” answered Alida.
“But hasn’t somebody made it up before others can play it?” asked Vinzi
modestly. “Don’t you think that one could write down tunes one hears
inside one’s head, if one only knew how? Then one could play it all on
the piano.”
“But that’s not a bit necessary. I am quite sure that enough music has
been written already,” Alida said, glancing with a deep sigh at the
large book in which were printed all the exercises she had to learn.
Vinzi was also looking at it, absolutely absorbed. The large black dots
seemed to him nothing short of a miracle.
“Now I’ll play you the little piece you liked so much,” Alida
continued. “Soon you’ll be able to play it, too. It is awfully easy.”
Vinzi’s eyes glowed as he listened. He drank it in with all his senses.
Just as Alida had reached the end the black-forest clock on the wall
struck three.
“The lesson is over, but come again tomorrow,” said Alida jumping up
from her chair.
Shaking hands, Vinzi quickly hurried away. Three days passed in the
same way. Vinzi proved such an apt pupil that his teacher could not
help wondering at his progress. He had played the little piece through
once, for he knew it by heart. Reading the notes still gave him
trouble. When he had played it only with his index finger, Alida was
much shocked. She forbade him ever to play that way again. No human
being played like that, she said, for all five fingers of the hand
were meant to be used in playing. But it had seemed a much easier way
to Vinzi. In the end he saw how much better her way was as it was too
difficult for the left hand to move quickly.
Vinzi was grateful for being sent to the pasture every day. It would
have been hard for him to work with his father in the barn or stable,
because his thoughts were so completely filled with his new studies
that it always took him a moment to comprehend what people were saying
to him. Once in a while when his father had needed him for little tasks
he had shaken his head. “Well, where is your head nowadays, boy?” he
had said as he sent him off.
The day had come for the fourth lesson. In happy anticipation Vinzi
had been running and was already half way up the stairs, when a sharp
voice called to him from below, “Hey there, what does this mean? Come
straight down, you forward boy.”
“I am only going up to Alida,” said Vinzi a little frightened.
“What, to Alida? You know no Alida here, and she does not know you,
either,” Mrs. Troll cried out indignantly. “Come down this minute or
I’ll fetch you down myself in a way you won’t like at all.”
Vinzi went down the stairs obediently, but not without calling out with
all his might, “Alida, I am not allowed to come to you. But I want you
to know that I was here.”
“What are you saying?” said the woman furiously. “I see, you meant to
fool me and make me think that you know the little girl whose name you
happened to hear once? Look, here is the door.”
But Alida, who had heard him, now came running down.
“Why do you send Vinzi away? He came to see me,” she said in a superior
tone.
“Oh, I see, the matter was arranged beforehand,” said Mrs. Troll, but
she used quite a different tone of voice now. “Does Miss Landrat know
that he was expected?”
“No, but I know,” Alida answered obstinately.
“If we tell Miss Landrat the matter will be settled,” Mrs. Troll said
with a shade of sarcasm. “But the best he can do now is to go where he
belongs.”
Vinzi couldn’t help agreeing to that. Giving Alida his hand, he went
sadly away with the conviction that everything was now over. Alida was
filled with rage that the woman should be allowed to send her dear
friend away like that.
“I’ll tell father everything,” she cried out passionately, “and he
won’t have Vinzi treated that way again.” Her anger giving her wings,
she flew up the stairs.
As soon as Mrs. Troll saw Miss Landrat approaching with Hugo she went
out quickly and gave a thorough report of what had happened. “It is
quite evident that the boy has been here before,” she concluded her
tale excitedly. “Everything was planned, for he shot up the stairs as
if he were perfectly at home here. The girl was apparently waiting for
him upstairs.”
The governess was simply petrified.
“How could Alida presume to do such a thing? The idea of making friends
with a cow-herd whose father we know nothing about,” she cried out with
indignation. “I’ll have to tell her parents.”
“It might be the boy who found her shawl,” said Hugo, who had kept
quiet till then. “We saw him on Sunday with his sister. He looked very
nice, and I don’t see why Alida shouldn’t be friends with him.”
Miss Landrat had no words left to show her disapproval; turning about
she went up the stairs. Hugo followed.
“Who came here while we were gone?” asked the governess, throwing open
the door.
“Vinzi,” replied Alida.
“If that is the boy’s name who was here, I should like to know what
brought him here,” continued the lady in great agitation.
“He came to take a music lesson,” was the answer.
“Do you think I am joking, Alida,” said Miss Landrat, still more
furious.
“No, I don’t think so,” replied the girl.
“Will you please give me a sensible answer!” exclaimed the governess.
“Why did it ever occur to you to ask the boy here? What did he want?”
“He wanted his music lesson,” replied Alida, as if it were the most
natural thing in the world.
“But why don’t you tell me who wanted to give him a music lesson,” Hugo
interposed.
“I was to give it,” Alida replied seriously.
Hugo exploded with laughter.
“Didn’t he laugh at the idea of your giving him a music lesson?” he
asked.
“No, he was very attentive,” said Alida.
“This is enough!” exclaimed the governess angrily. “Do not ask anything
more, Hugo. Alida is wrong if she thinks it funny to invent such
rubbish. I shall write to your papa at once. But before everything else
I’ll--” with this she left the room.
Hugo renewed his examination now. He heard to his great amusement that
she had given Vinzi several lessons and that he had already learned
much. Alida also wanted her brother to know that she fully meant to
tell her papa how Vinzi had been treated by Mrs. Troll.
In the meantime Miss Landrat had sought out Mrs. Troll. She told her to
send Vinzi away if he ever should venture near the house again, and
roundly to forbid him entering it.
The same evening Vinzi’s father passed Mrs. Troll’s house as he cut
across the field on his way home. As she happened to be in her garden
at the time she called out to him. “Hey there! neighbor Lesa, I have
something to say to you.”
He approached.
“I wonder,” she continued, “if it would not be better for your boy if
he had something to do, instead of running into other people’s houses
and getting into mischief.”
“What do you mean, neighbor?” asked Lesa, pressing his lips together.
“You ask what I mean? Well, your boy has been here several times to
amuse the little girl who boards here. They play music together and
such stuff,” said Mrs. Troll. “But the governess won’t hear of it and
the boy must stay where he belongs from now on.”
“He’ll stay there safe enough; good-bye,” said Lesa, going his way.
At supper time he came home. Both children were seated at the table,
because the mother liked to have everything ready for her husband.
She immediately brought in the supper and sat down, too. But he said
nothing. Once in a while the mother looked questioningly at him, but as
he took no notice she realized that something must have happened. Her
husband apparently wished to be alone. Therefore as soon as the meal
was done and she had finished the necessary tasks, the children were
sent to bed. When Lesa found himself alone with his wife he said to
her, “Sit down, I must talk to you.”
She did as she was bid.
“I have had enough of the boy now,” he began in quite a temper. “It is
not enough that he does nothing, understands nothing, and can’t be good
for anything on the farm; now he even has to bring shame and dishonor
upon us. This is the end now and I’ve made up my mind to send him away.”
The woman had grown pale with fright.
“But for heaven’s sake, what has Vinzi done?” she asked anxiously. “It
is not a bit like him. What did he do, Vinzenz? Please tell me; did he
really do some wrong?”
“Ask him yourself what he has done. It is enough for me to have to hear
from a neighbor that it would be better for my boy to have something to
do instead of running into other people’s houses and fooling around.
That a thing like that should be said to me! Matters have gone on long
enough now, and this is the end. I am simply going to send him away.”
In his agitation Vinzenz Lesa had risen from his chair but after
walking once across the room, he came back to his seat.
“I can’t understand what has happened,” said the woman, when he was
sitting beside her again, after she had been able to think a little.
“It certainly is not Vinzi’s way to go into people’s houses without a
cause; there must have been a reason. Let us first talk to the boy and
ask him why he did it, for it is not fair to judge him otherwise. He is
sure to tell us the truth. But think, Vinzenz, what it would be to send
away a twelve year old boy! He is much too young for that.”
“I won’t stop you from talking to him,” replied the husband, “but one
thing is clear. He simply has to go. I have thought of it for a long
while and now the time has come. He must go to a place where there is
no possible chance for him to hear such nonsense. He must go where
there are few people, but the kind who get full pleasure from their
work. I mean people who stay by themselves and who do not sit together
with strangers.”
“But the first thing of all should be to know the people,” the wife
interrupted eagerly. “I hope you do not mean to send Vinzi to the first
person who happens to like his work on a farm.”
“Easy, easy, I am coming to that,” the man continued in a calm voice.
“You know that I went up to the Simplon last fall where a cousin of
mine, Lorenz Lesa, lives. Well, he has a fine farm with a few splendid
cows, and though it isn’t big, everything is in excellent order. I
liked it up there and I’ll send the boy to him. Vinzi may still come
out all right if he sees other boys who are happy and content in that
kind of life.”
“Is it really possible that you mean to send the boy so far away!”
cried out the woman with a wail, “so high up into the mountains? It
must be dreadfully lonely up there. I can’t even imagine what things
would be like. I don’t know either your cousin or his wife. How could
they be expected to receive the boy? You send him to them like a
good-for-nothing with whom one can do nothing more at home. It would
seem as if our Vinzi had become a criminal who had to be sent into
banishment.”
“You need not get excited, woman,” retorted the man, “the change is
not to be a punishment but a means of bringing him around. My cousin
Lorenz is a good, sensible man who won’t treat him badly, and Cousin
Josepha is a splendid woman who is bringing up her three boys in such
a way that it gives one pleasure to look at them. I saw them right in
the midst of their cows and I never heard such singing and jokes and
such cracking of whips. They seem to have an eternal holiday. Don’t
you believe yourself that our boy might change in such surroundings
and realize how lucky he is to have been born to be a farmer? Nothing
better could possibly happen to him than to go.”
The woman said nothing more, but she was far from convinced that
Vinzi would feel at home among boys so different. She could not help
wondering what the cousins would think of Vinzi’s rather odd ways.
Many other thoughts disturbed her, but she knew how useless they were.
Of course Vinzi had to go and she knew no other place to send him to.
She asked her husband how soon they could hear whether their relations
would take the boy, and when Vinzi would have to leave them. So her
husband told her that he had clearly shown Lorenz how he liked the
boys and had admitted how much he wished his boy were happy and bright,
too, instead of being so dreamy. Lorenz had asked him then and there
to send Vinzi to him for a summer whenever he wanted to. In the gay
company of the other boys he might wake up. Lorenz also promised to do
his share, as happy boys appealed to him much more than obstinate ones.
So it had been settled between them that Vinzi was to go and that in
return one of the three boys was to spend a summer with them. It would
do him good to see a new place and different ways of working. Lesa
believed that a man who lived in the valley was soon going to drive his
cattle over the mountain and that would give them a good opportunity to
send Vinzi.
The mother went to bed with a heavy heart that night. Vinzi was to be
sent to perfect strangers into surroundings she did not know. Besides
it was so far away that she could not even keep an eye on him. Why
did it have to be? Another great sorrow was the thought that Vinzi
must have done something to draw his father’s discontent upon him.
She hardly slept that night. As soon as it had grown bright the next
morning and before anyone in the house had wakened, she went into
Vinzi’s chamber. She wanted to have a quiet hour with the boy in order
to hear what he had done. She also had to prepare him for what was to
happen, for she realized that it would probably be very soon. Vinzi,
opening his large, dark eyes, gazed with surprise at his mother. She
was sitting on the edge of his bed, holding his hand in hers.
“Tell me, Vinzi,” she began, “while nobody can disturb us, why you made
father so angry yesterday. You had better tell me everything.”
Vinzi had to think a little. He remembered how furiously Mrs. Troll had
sent him away the day before and he supposed his father had heard about
it. He told her the whole incident of the music lessons and how raging
Mrs. Troll had grown, also how desirous Alida had been to continue the
lessons.
A great load fell from the mother’s heart when she found that Vinzi had
done no wrong. She understood, however, that their neighbor’s words had
specially irritated her husband, because Vinzi had for a long while
caused him secret anxiety and grief. She found it necessary to explain
to her boy, how wrong it had been to tell her nothing of the matter.
She wondered if it had not occurred to him that nothing like that
should have been begun without telling them at home. Vinzi here quite
frankly admitted that he had been afraid of not getting his father’s
permission, and as he had been so dreadfully eager to learn something
about music, he and Stefeli had talked it all over and had decided
that it was a good time to leave the pasture. They had thought their
father would not mind so long as nothing happened to the cows. But
the mother said that his secrecy had not been right and was bringing
bad consequences, though she hoped these might also lead to good.
Here she spoke of his father’s plan and their hope that Vinzi would
learn to enjoy all the farm work his three cousins seemed to relish
so much. She hoped he would heartily enter into everything with them
and return bright and happy; which would make his father overjoyed.
However delicately the mother had mentioned their decision, Vinzi had
only heard the fact that he had to leave his home. The boy looked
terror-stricken, but did not utter a word. The mother was glad enough
that he did not complain, because his frightened face alone had brought
the tears to her eyes.
Everything took its usual course that day. The children went up to the
pasture again, and the cows, after they wandered about for a bit, had
quietly settled down. Stefeli was quite accustomed to Vinzi’s long
silent spells, when he seemed to listen to all kinds of sounds she
could not hear. But that day he went too far.
“Say something to me, Vinzi. You might just as well not be here at
all,” she finally said a little crossly.
“Oh yes, and I won’t be here much longer. I can’t help thinking of
your being all alone when I can’t come to the pasture any more,” Vinzi
said dolefully. Then Stefeli heard that he was to be sent up to a high
mountain, to people he had never seen. She could not believe that
anything so unheard-of could suddenly come to pass.
“When will you have to go?” she asked, wholly overcome by this dreadful
change.
As his mother had not mentioned this, Vinzi did not know.
“Oh, I am glad,” she cried out decidedly relieved, “it may not be for
quite a while. And if it is put off a long while, it may never happen
at all. Cheer up again, Vinzi.”
Stefeli had a way of finding a consoling side to everything and had
often brightened Vinzi’s despondent mood by her cheerful outlook. That
day also the boy was affected by her words, and the sunny afternoon
ended much more happily than it had begun.
When the children had gone to bed and the parents were sitting alone
together Lesa told his wife that he had gone to the village that day
and that when he had asked after his friend he had found that the
latter had just that day driven his cows over the mountain. But there
was no loss in that; on the contrary. He had at the same time heard
of a young workman from Gondo who was going home to his village next
Monday. As he would make the road from Brieg on foot, he expected to
spend the night in Berisal on the way. This was much better, as Vinzi
would not be obliged to make the whole journey on foot. Lesa also knew
an innkeeper in Berisal who would provide good board for the travellers.
The woman, who had listened silently till now, here said, “How can you
give our boy in charge of a person nobody knows anything about, except
that he is going up the mountain.”
“I immediately went to see him and talked it all over,” replied the
father, “and I found him a good fellow. When I inquired about him I
heard nothing but good of him. All Vinzi needs is to have a companion,
for he can look after himself perfectly well. No boy is a little child
any more at twelve.”
“Young enough, to go away alone,” uttered the mother with a sigh. “Does
he really have to go on Monday? Tomorrow is Sunday.”
“Nothing could be better,” the husband said decisively. “If a thing
has to be done, it is best to have it settled right away. I can’t see
anything dreadful in it. He is not going to Australia, and next winter
he’ll be home again.”
“It is a blessing that we can give him into the protection of our
Father in Heaven. I find this my only consolation now when the boy goes
away, and I don’t even know the people he is going to,” said Mrs. Lesa.
“That is quite true,” the husband replied, happy at the thought that
his wife had found a consolation. “I think everything is all right
now,” he said after a pause, pushing his pipe from one corner of his
mouth to the other. But something still seemed to be on his mind. “I
think the boy ought to be told about going.”
“He knows, for I told him this morning; only I didn’t know when.”
The man found this information very welcome. Vinzi had known all day
what was to happen to him and he had retained his composure. As Lesa
had anticipated a flood of tears, he was very glad to be spared a scene.
Next day the afternoon sun was shining down upon the bench before
Lesa’s house when he took his seat there as usual and called to Vinzi
to come to him.
“You know that you are to go to our cousin’s on the mountain,” he began
when the boy was sitting beside him. “It is beautiful there and you’ll
soon like it. You are going there for your own good and I hope you’ll
remember to do honor to your parents. Your fellow-traveller knows the
house you are to go to. You are expected there, though they do not know
the exact day of your coming. All you have to tell them is who you are.
Just say that I sent you as I planned to do. You leave early tomorrow
morning with a man who knows the way and has exact instructions.”
The father was decidedly pleased when Vinzi said not a word. To give
the boy courage he vividly described the gay life of his young cousins
in the midst of their lively mountain cattle. The mother in the
meantime packed the little bag Vinzi was to take on his back.
Stefeli had heard from her mother what was to happen the next morning
and as she noted that her questions proved unwelcome she said nothing.
There was still less chance of having questions answered by her father
who was now talking to Vinzi. Poor Stefeli felt quite lost and followed
her mother about, hoping that the time would come soon when she could
talk again.
The bag was packed and a very silent supper had been eaten. The mother
seemed completely unable to utter a syllable. She was very anxious to
control her grief in order not to make it harder for the boy, but she
must say a few words to him that night when he was in bed. All was dark
when she went to his little room and sat down at his bed-side.
“I am glad you came, mother,” he said immediately. “I am a little
frightened. Do you think my uncle will be cross when I forget to mind
the cows? Stefeli always called to me when she needed me if I was not
paying attention.”
“I don’t know, as I never saw either your aunt or your uncle,” replied
the mother. “But I want to beg of you, Vinzi, to do your very best to
please them. If they should complain of you, or feel obliged to send
you home, your father could not bear it. Never do anything that would
prevent you from looking cheerfully up to your good Father in Heaven,
for you can always look to him when you feel afraid or lonely. You can
tell Him everything, for He is always above you and can see and hear
you. Don’t forget that, Vinzi, and may this thought be your greatest
comfort.”
Vinzi promised never to forget her words. With this she left him.
In the very early morning the father accompanied Vinzi down to the
station where his fellow-traveller was waiting. After the train had
carried them across the valley to Brieg, they were to take to the road
which led to the mountain.