BANISHMENT
During the first half of the journey Vinzi had not spoken. The thought
that he was to spend a long time in the midst of strangers far from his
home lay heavily upon him. He hardly realized what went on about him.
In Berisal his companion took him to the inn belonging to his father’s
friend. When the latter had questioned the boy sufficiently about
the trip, he found it wise for Vinzi to have supper and immediately
go to bed, as he was sure to be tired from the long waken till his
fellow-traveller firmly shook him the next morning. As the sun was
already high, it was necessary to hurry; but that did not trouble
Vinzi, for he was used to that at home. On the days when they had gone
to the pasture Stefeli was nearly always dressed when he got up, and
he had had to be quick to get ready in time. Oh, if only Stefeli were
there now to call him, and if only his mother would come in to say a
few friendly words! Vinzi had to fight hard to keep back the tears. He
was dressed in a short time and sat down to his cup of coffee in the
room where his companion awaited him. The two companions went silently
up the mountain. Poor Vinzi felt stranger and stranger as he neared his
destination.
“Look, boy,” said the young workman, who had been whistling all the
time, “do you see that stone house?”
Vinzi saw it and in his terror he could not utter a syllable. He
thought that the gloomy gray house on the stony slope was his cousin’s
place.
“Yes, I see it,” he finally said in a very low voice.
“We’ll stop there to get something to eat,” said the young man. “After
that comes the last stretch we have to climb. From then on it goes down
hill and you’ll soon be there. I have to go all the way down to the
next valley, so we won’t have much time to rest.”
Vinzi was perfectly indifferent. He felt little enough inclination to
eat and was constantly picturing to himself his arrival at the house
of his unknown cousins. Maybe it looked as gloomy as the gray house of
stone. His inner agitation constantly increased while they had a short
lunch and afterwards when they silently took to the road again. They
stood on the summit now and the path began to slope down hill.
“What is that?” asked Vinzi glancing timidly at a large building which
lay at the left of the road. Despite the fact that it seemed to shelter
many people, everything about it lay in soundless peace and not a human
being could be seen.
“That’s nothing bad, you don’t need to be frightened,” said the young
fellow. “On the contrary, it is a nice place. Good monks live there,
who take in people that travel by in winter, half frozen. They have a
warm fire for you and a drop of something warm to strengthen you.”
“What is that over there?” asked Vinzi again after a little while, when
an old solitary tower showed itself to the right of the road.
“Do you think you have to live there? Don’t make such eyes!” said the
young man. “I shouldn’t like to live there myself. It is as quiet here
as if it were at the end of the world. But they do grow old here. Ten
years ago I saw a man sitting there with his hair and beard as white
as the snow on that peak. A year ago I saw him, too, and sure enough,
there he is again. Quick now, boy, you don’t have far to go.”
But the end was not reached before half an hour’s vigorous tramp was
behind them. Pointing down hill the workman said, “Look at that white
building down there! That’s a little chapel. A few houses are about it
and they call the hamlet ‘Bychapel.’ The village is a bit further down,
but your uncle lives near the chapel. I’ll show you the house and then
I’ll leave you. You can’t possibly miss your way.”
Vinzi stared breathlessly ahead of him, and without once looking back,
rushed forward. They had reached the chapel, which was a little way
from the road on a hillock. The young man stopped.
“Well, here we are!” he said. “Pass the chapel to your right and go
to the very last house which has a barn beside it. Lorenz Lesa lives
there. Good-bye now and good luck!”
“Good-bye, thank you!” said Vinzi, as he sadly shook hands.
The young man turned about and went whistling on his way and Vinzi
looked after him. The last person who was connected with his home had
vanished and nothing but the unknown lay before him. But alas! it had
to be. He did as he was told and found the house on the grassy slope.
A small, stone building behind it was evidently the stable. At the
other side was a brown construction covered with stones and shingles,
evidently the barn, where the supply of hay was kept. As the small door
of the barn was wide open and everything about the house was still and
the house door shut, Vinzi went towards it. He knew well enough that
one couldn’t get into the door from the ground except by clambering up
the boards, for the hut was raised off the ground by four posts to keep
the hay dry and airy. Vinzi climbed in through the extremely low door,
where a grown up person was obliged to stoop. A tall, strongly-built
man was straightening up the hay.
“Good evening!” Vinzi called out. “Does this barn belong to Lorenz
Lesa?”
“It does, what do you want with him?” the man called back.
“He is our cousin. I belong to Vinzenz Lesa in Leuk and father sends
you his good greetings. He said you knew about my coming here,” Vinzi
went on confidentially, for he hoped that this man who had already won
his trust might be his uncle.
Sticking his fork into the hay, the man came nearer in order to hear
better.
He looked the boy straight in the eye, offered him his hand, and said
pleasantly, “Oh, I see! Are you really Vinzi? I am glad you have come
to your relatives. Did you come up here all alone?”
Vinzi’s heart had opened at the glance of the friendly eyes and the
kindly sound of his voice. He bravely raised his eyes from the floor
at which he had been staring till now, and told about his travels. He
was so glad, he said, to have found his uncle so soon, for he had been
quite frightened at the thought of coming among strangers.
“There is nothing to be afraid of,” said the uncle good-humoredly. “My
boys are not exactly tame, but you can manage with them. You must be
hungry and thirsty now,” he went on, “and we had better go over to your
aunt, who’ll look after you.”
Vinzi was on the ground with a jump and his uncle followed. Just at
that moment a woman of rather generous proportions opened the door and
calmly looked about her.
“I have to let the smoke out a bit,” she remarked to her husband. Then
observing the boy at her husband’s side, she calmly looked him over.
“I am bringing you our nephew from Leuk,” said the man, “but he is
still a bit afraid of us. Please look out that he doesn’t feel worse.”
At this last remark the man slightly chuckled.
“I frighten no children,” answered the woman deliberately, giving Vinzi
her hand. “Welcome to our house, nephew.” Then she began to inspect him
so thoroughly from top to toe that her husband finally said, “I should
think it better if you examined the rest of him inside. Can’t you see
that the boy still has the pack on his back? I am sure he wouldn’t take
it amiss to have something to eat after the long tramp he has had.”
“He can have something right away,” said the woman. “Supper is nearly
ready, but the smoke drove me from the stove. I’ll put the food on the
table and we can begin to eat. We don’t need to wait for the boys; they
are sure to turn up sooner or later.”
Turning towards the house, she freed Vinzi of his pack. Not very long
afterwards he sat comfortably at the table with his aunt and uncle
and as soon as all fear of the strange relatives had left him he was
suddenly conscious of the most tremendous appetite. Despite the long
trip he had barely eaten. The cousin seemed somehow to have guessed
this, for long before the boy’s plate was empty he heaped it full again
with steaming potatoes and lovely yellow cheese. This combination
tasted so delicious together that Vinzi thought he had never eaten
anything better in his life.
Once in a while his aunt would say, “Give him more milk. You mustn’t
forget how parched he must be from the wind and dust of his long trip.”
Vinzi needed no urging to drink one cup of fresh milk after another.
All of a sudden shrill voices and calls could be heard outside,
followed by the loud flicking of whips and happy cries. Vinzi looked
out of the window, amazed, but saw nothing.
“There are the boys! They have come home with the cows. I must quickly
run out to help them, for they can’t attend to the cattle alone. I
suppose you’ve never done so either? Would you like to come out and see
our cows and the stable?”
“Oh, leave him alone now!” said the aunt. “Why should he rush about
after all the walking he’s done? He can start the day with the boys
tomorrow, if he wants to.”
“I only asked, because boys usually like to be where something lively
is going on,” replied Lorenz Lesa, “but he shall be free to say what he
prefers.”
“I’d like to stay here,” replied Vinzi.
“All right, then,” said the uncle, as he went outside.
The aunt showed herself pleased that Vinzi was willing to remain quiet
and did not immediately want to run away. First of all he was to have
another cup of milk to lay the last bit of dust from the journey. Then
folding her arms and settling comfortably into her chair she said: “Now
tell me about your people at home and the kind of life you lead there.
I like to hear about such things.”
Vinzi was pleased at this opportunity to talk about his home. He had
been wondering all the time what his mother was doing just then,
whether Stefeli was alone on the pasture, and how everything was
getting along without him. He told his aunt about their household,
especially how his mother and Stefeli usually spent the day.
A loud tramping neared the door now and the next instant it was flung
open. A boy of Vinzi’s age came running in, followed by a little chap
and one much larger, who apparently resented being the last. Quickly
giving a high jump, he tried to leap over the little one’s head by
propping himself on his shoulders. But quick as a wink the sly little
one ducked down and the big boy fell headlong with a thump.
“You must not enter in such an unmannerly fashion, Faz,” said the
mother calmly.
“Good evening, cousin,” said the eldest, holding his hand out to Vinzi.
“Good evening, cousin,” cried the second boy, too, and “Good evening
cousin,” also called the youngest, pushing his way very near to Vinzi.
Vinzi heartily shook the proffered hands and answered their
salutations. Meanwhile the father had come in.
“You must know each other’s names, boys,” he said, stepping towards the
group. “Your cousin’s is Vinzi, which is short for Vinzenz. My three
are called Joseph, Bonifaz and Maurus. But these are their calendar
names, and we call them Jos, Faz and Russli. I think you had better sit
down now, for the potatoes have cooled off enough to eat.”
“Oh, I am glad,” said the mother with satisfaction, “then they won’t
burn their throats today. Usually they do when they are in such a
hurry.”
All three settled down to the important business of eating. They said
nothing, but their glances resting on Vinzi showed that he occupied
their thoughts completely.
Now that the tumult had subsided and one could speak and hear without
exertion, the mother said, “As our relatives did not let us know
beforehand that Vinzi was coming, we did not get ready for him. But I
have an idea. If he is to sleep in the house we shall have to clear out
the store-room where wheat, corn and all kinds of things are kept. The
mice up there squeak and scratch so much that they might frighten him.
Wouldn’t it be much better if we fixed him a bed in the hay-rick? He
would really be much more comfortable there.”
“He’ll have to say himself where he’d rather sleep,” put in the
uncle. “If he prefers the store-room, we’ll all of us go up and clear
everything away. Vinzi, where would you rather sleep?”
“I’d love to sleep in the hay-rick,” replied Vinzi.
“I thought so,” said his aunt, quite relieved that the matter was so
quickly settled. “And you must have a little table, a bench and a chest
of drawers to make you comfortable,” she added. “As soon as you are all
done with supper you can take some things over for him.”
She went out first in search of what was needed, and soon after the
three boys had finished their meal and hastened after her. When Vinzi
rose in order to make himself useful, too, the uncle assured him that
the heavy pack he had carried on his back was enough work for that day.
Hanging it on his arm, the man beckoned to Vinzi to follow him. They
had scarcely reached the hay-rick, when the three boys came running
along. Jos carried a little cupboard, Faz had a small table with a
large blanket on top, and Russli brought a little bench. The mother
with the pillow and sheets followed behind. With an agility clearly
showing how used she was to climbing into the barn, the aunt had gone
in. One thing after another was lifted up by Lorenz Lesa, and she
pulled them in through the door.
When the last one was inside, the uncle said, “We’ll say good-night
to you now. On the inside of the door is a wooden bolt that you can
fasten. Once inside, you are the sole master of your castle and no
person can come whom you wish to keep out.”
Now the aunt came down again.
“Everything is ready for you,” she said. “And look, nephew, over there
is the stream, where you can wash yourself. No one will disturb you
there. I laid a towel for you on the bench. Good-night.”
The cousins all wished him good-night, too, but Jos turned round once
more.
“Are you coming up to the pasture with us tomorrow morning, Vinzi? Do
you expect to stay with us all day while we mind the cows?”
“Yes, certainly,” replied Vinzi. “I’ll help you all I can, but you must
tell me which I have to mind most. Please call me in the morning, so
that I shan’t be late.”
“Yes, yes, I’ll call to you loudly through the round air-hole,” Jos
promised. “You’ll be able to hear me well enough.” With that he ran
away.
Vinzi was left alone. Climbing up through the door, he inspected his
barn. In a corner on a high, soft pile of hay his bed was spread.
Beside it the hay had been pushed away to give room for the table
and the bench, and at the wall stood his little cupboard. It all
looked like a cosy and inviting little room. But he was not able to
sleep because the unusual happenings of the day had excited him so
much. Sitting down on the board which formed his threshold, he looked
outside. The stars were glowing above him in the heavens and just then
the moon rose from behind the mountains. It was beginning to light up
the dark trees and meadows and the little church looked very white,
and the high snow-peak rising above the rocky ranges became more and
more brilliant every minute. Vinzi opened his eyes very wide, for in
his great terror of what lay before him he had seen practically nothing
after the gloomy house on the mountain desert. He had made up his mind
that only frightful things would happen to him. How different was the
scene now before him from what he had anticipated!
There was no stony desert here. On the contrary, the moonlight gleamed
peacefully down to the green slope and sparkled on the tops of the
larch trees over the way. In the peaceful silence he could hear
the continuous soft gurgling of the near-by stream. Vinzi listened
to the sound while the tones grew fuller and louder till lovely
melodies could be distinguished. He must have been sitting there for a
considerable time when a strong gust of wind suddenly pushed the door
to against his knee and woke him from his dreaming. He had never in
his life seen the stars above him sparkle as they did that night. His
mother’s words that the good God in Heaven was above him everywhere
and could hear and watch him now suddenly occurred to him. Many times
he had heard her say these words, but at that moment his heart fully
realized them. It gave him a sense that Heaven was very near him and
filled his soul with gratitude to God who had let him find happiness
where he had anticipated evil. How groundless had been his fear of his
uncle and aunt! They had received and treated him so kindly that he
already felt at home. In his joy he would have loved to fill the night
with a loud song of praise, but it was too late for that. Not a single
light could be seen about him; everyone in all the cottages, far and
near, was apparently fast asleep.
After shutting and bolting the door, he sought his fragrant bed, which
was soft and splendid, for no hay could prick him through the heavy
sheets. Opposite his bed an especially bright star kept gleaming in
through the round hole in the wall. He tried to shut his eyes, but it
shone so brightly that he could not help gazing at it. Even when his
lids seemed to be closing he opened them again to see it. Yes, the star
was still shining. What was more, Vinzi could distinguish some faint,
beautiful music, which finally put him to sleep. The star was singing
to Vinzi so that he could hear it even in his dreams.
Next morning Vinzi was awakened by a dreadful noise, caused by his
name being screamed by many voices at once. Stefeli had never called
as loudly as that to waken him, thought Vinzi, still half asleep. But
all of a sudden he realized where he was and whose loud voices had
apparently been shouting for a long time in vain. Rapidly putting on
the most necessary clothing, he opened his door wide and leaped down
among his noisy cousins.
“Hurry up, come along!” they called all at once and Jos added, “Take
your jacket along. As soon as we’ve had breakfast, we are off.”
As Vinzi was not even washed yet, he begged them not to wait for him as
he would rather follow them later.
The two older ones quickly ran off, but Russli going with Vinzi to the
stream, said confidentially, “You don’t need to wash yourself. You
don’t look dirty: come with us, Vinzi, you are clean enough.”
“No, no, Russli,” Vinzi answered. “One must wash every morning and
besides it makes one feel better. Oh, what nice, clear water.” So
saying Vinzi kneeled down and taking up handfuls he poured the fresh
water over his face again and again, and also drank one handful after
another.
This made a deep impression on Russli, for Vinzi looked refreshed and
radiant. Meditating deeply the little boy said, “I’ll come and wash
myself here with you and I’ll drink afterwards like you, too. I’ll do
it every day from now on.”
Having finished his toilet, Vinzi fetched his jacket and went over to
the house with Russli.
Both uncle and aunt, who were still at breakfast, greeted Vinzi kindly.
The aunt set a large cup of coffee before him and entreated the boy to
help himself to lots of bread, as the strong mountain air would soon
give him a fresh appetite.
“We ought to have let you sleep longer after your trip,” said the
uncle, “but the boys were just wild for you to go with them. They are
so pleased to have a cousin who belongs to them now.”
“Just take your time,” urged the aunt when she saw that Vinzi was
hurrying in order to finish his breakfast. “Your uncle will go out with
you when you are done, and he has not finished either.”
When the uncle rose soon after, Vinzi followed him.
Jos and Faz had been flicking their whips for quite a while to show
that they were ready. The father unfastened one cow after another from
her stall and the whole procession began to move. Quite a stretch of
road beyond the chapel had to be passed before the pasture-ground for
the day could be reached. Russli had immediately come to Vinzi’s side
and was firmly grasping his hand. He tried to hold Vinzi back as much
as possible, while Faz and Jos were busy driving the cows along. This
was difficult, because the luscious grass along the sides constantly
tempted them to stray from the road.
“Leave me alone, Russli,” Vinzi said hurrying forward. “You see I must
help your brothers to keep the cows in order.”
During a struggle Faz had with a cow who was trying to clean off a
tender bush by the roadside he heard these words.
“Keep Russli out of mischief for us,” he called back to Vinzi. “You
can’t possibly help us better than that. The little chap always tickles
the cows with his rod and that makes them run from side to side. If
they do that we can barely manage them. Russli is a mischievous little
fellow, you’d better hold him tight.”
Faz at last got control of his obstinate cow and, driving her along,
followed the others.
“Vinzi,” asked Russli, overjoyed at being able to have his new cousin’s
company, “have you a knife?”
“Yes, of course, everybody needs one,” Vinzi replied.
“Come on and I’ll show you a fine bush,” said Russli, “where the
branches are thick below and very thin above; you know they are very
strong, too. Won’t you cut me a few good willow sticks. Mine is broken
and I can’t do it myself because I am not allowed to have a knife.”
“Why do you want the stick?” asked Vinzi. “I hope you don’t want it for
beating the cows. You heard what Faz just told me about you.”
“Oh, I don’t beat them, but I like to tickle them a bit,” explained
Russli. “That makes them jump and they get lively.”
“No, no, Russli, they don’t think it fun,” said Vinzi. “They jump from
fright, because such thin whips hurt them very much. I won’t make you
any sticks for that. But show me the bush, and if the wood is good I’ll
cut you something else.”
Of course Russli was terribly curious to know what Vinzi meant to make
him. But Vinzi declared he would not tell till he had seen the bush and
asked Jos a question. Expectantly Russli ran ahead. Soon they turned
off from the road to a grove, where they found a large bush whose
branches stood up perfectly straight.
“Here,” said Russli, pulling Vinzi along.
Vinzi, gazing with satisfaction at the firm branches, began to cut
those which pleased him most.
“Come now,” he said after having gathered a considerable bunch, “we
must go to your brothers. Do you know where they are? I can’t see them
any more. I’ll cut it for you when I get there.”
Russli hastened on followed by Vinzi.
“Oh, how lovely it is here,” Vinzi exclaimed and stood still. “But
where is the pasture?”
“Here,” said Russli.
Vinzi looked about him. Here and there isolated high, dark larches let
in the deep-blue sky through their delicate branches. On the lovely
green slope little patches of fiery red alpine-roses glowed between
moss-covered stones. The full mountain stream was rushing down hill
throwing up snow-white foam whenever rocks tried to bar its course.
Vinzi could see the cows quietly grazing a short distance away. He
stood without moving. Never in his life had he seen such a pasture. The
slanting sun fell through the trees on the glowing flowers and sparkled
on the waving grass. The soft mountain air, gently fanning the trees,
played with the shadows and soughed through their branches with a
delicate song.
The soughing seemed first to grow, then to die away in the far
distance. Vinzi had not moved from the spot, gazing and listening
intently.
“When will you cut me what you promised?” asked Russli quite angrily,
for his patience had given out with waiting.
“All right, I’ll come,” said Vinzi, as if awakening from a dream.
“I’ll come. But it is wonderful here! Hold these sticks a minute,
Russli. I’ll come right back and make you what I said I would.”
Vinzi ran over to the grazing place and looked about for his cousins.
Across the road was a very large pasture without trees and with many
cattle. Vinzi could see a small group of goat-herds bending over a
smoking spot on the ground. They were apparently trying to make a fire,
but as it would not burn, were shouting all at once and causing much
confusion. Vinzi saw Jos and Faz among them. First he called to Jos a
considerable time in vain, but when Jos finally heard him, he came over.
“Come to us, Vinzi!” he called out, running. “We are making a fire, or
I should rather call it smoke. One of the boys found a hole, and we
think some kind of animal, maybe a marmot, is inside. It’ll come out if
the smoke gets into the hole. Then we can catch it. Come, we’ll have
such fun.”
“No, I’d rather not,” said Vinzi, for he had not the slightest desire
to see a little frightened beast jump out of the hole, and much less to
see all the boys chase it and frighten it more. “I promised Russli to
come back. But I must ask you something. Do you think your father would
mind if I cut Russli a pipe?”
“Why should he mind? What do you mean? I couldn’t even guess why not?”
Jos exclaimed. “I am sure he couldn’t possibly object, and we are only
too glad if you keep Russli busy. He makes the cows simply wild and
that keeps us chasing them. The minute they see him even they begin to
run.”
“Shouldn’t I help you mind the cows?” asked Vinzi, slightly concerned.
“Can I really sit down quietly and cut out pipes?”
“You can’t help us any better way than that,” said Jos. “Please believe
me. Look how peacefully they are grazing. If Russli were teasing them,
they would long ago have begun to run around.”
Vinzi was delighted at being told his share of the day’s work and he
went back to Russli.
“Now, Russli,” said Vinzi on reaching the little boy, “watch what I
shall make.”
[Illustration: “WHAT WILL IT BE WHEN IT’S FINISHED?” ASKED RUSSLI]
As he settled down on a moss covered rock, the reddish-purple violets
beside him exhaled such a sweet perfume that he had to draw in a few
deep breaths. Then carefully choosing one of the branches he cut it off
where it began to grow more slender and started carving the thicker
piece.
“What will it be when it’s finished?” asked Russli, who had settled on
the stone by Vinzi’s side and was eagerly following the work.
“It’ll be a pipe to play music on,” was the answer.
Russli moved nearer to the carver in delighted surprise, for he was
afraid he would lose something of the creation of this wonderful thing.
Russli knew the little hollow pipes that usually broke right away, but
he had never seen such a thick, long wooden pipe as his cousin was
making. Vinzi had learned and invented many things since he had cut
his first pipes that could only give forth one tone. He cut several
holes now in order to have several tones played on it. But it took
considerable time to bore the small round holes, because Vinzi was very
particular. Several hours passed. Once in a while Vinzi stopped to
listen to the wind singing in the branches, and to the merry wavelets
of the mountain stream that gave forth sometimes a song of joy and
sometimes a low plaintive note. Sometimes he stooped down to inhale the
delicious perfume of the violets beside him. But at last he snapped
shut his knife.
“There, Russli! Take your pipe, it is finished!”
With glistening eyes the little boy set his pipe to his lips and
produced the most penetrating sound. Russli was quite scared at the
loud noise he had made, for he had blown into the pipe with all his
might.
“You had better blow it,” he said, giving the instrument to Vinzi.
At that instant they heard a shrill whistle followed by a second. It
was clearly a summons.
“It is time to eat,” said Russli. “They always whistle that way when we
are to gather together for lunch. Come on.”
Russli was already bounding away.
“Look at my pipe! Look, I have a pipe!” he called loudly to his
brothers, who were already eating. As soon as Russli saw this, he
looked about till he found the lunch-bag, which lay like a lost object
on the ground. Quickly pulling out his share he gave Vinzi the food
meant for him. “Take it!” he said, “this is yours. The others have
already taken theirs.”
Vinzi did this and settled himself beside Russli. But he could not
help thinking what Stefeli would say to them if she saw how they only
looked after themselves, as if they had had a fight.
Jos had finished in the meantime and called from his seat to Russli,
“Give me the pipe, I want to try it.”
“Come and get it,” said Russli in a curt way.
Vinzi had already risen to bring it to Jos, when the latter quickly
jumped up, asserting that if he wanted it, it was for him to fetch it.
Faz had joined them, too, now.
“Show it to me,” he cried, but Jos, who was already holding it to
his lips, pushed Faz away. Now the music began. All Jos knew was
that the fingers had to be placed on the different holes to produce
various sounds. He succeeded in that but they had a terribly harsh,
disconnected tone.
“Give it to me, you don’t know how,” cried Faz, grabbing the pipe.
But under his fingers the pipe shrilled and yelled more hideously still.
“It looks so fine,” said Jos regretfully, “and we could never have
made so nice a one, but it does not sound nice.”
Vinzi had finished his lunch by that time and took the pipe from Faz.
“I want to try it, too,” he said. With this he began to play a little
song, one tone clearly and beautifully following the other. Dumb with
amazement the three stood before him and listened spellbound.
“You certainly know how to play, Vinzi; won’t you teach me, too?” asked
Jos eagerly as soon as Vinzi had paused.
“Me, too,” cried Faz.
“And me, too,” repeated Russli.
“Give me the pipe,” begged Jos impatiently.
“No, give it to me,” cried Faz, but Russli had already snatched it up
and run away with his property for fear that he would be robbed of it
by superior strength.
“Leave it to him,” said Vinzi, “I’ll make you each one out of the
sticks I have. I can easily get all I want.”
This quieted the brothers, and as they wanted more music they called
Russli. Jos especially had been delighted with it. But no calling could
bring Russli back. Finally, Vinzi had to hasten after him to explain
that he was not to lose his precious gift. The boys sat about in a
close group now, for every one of them wanted to be as near to Vinzi
as possible to see how it was done. He was made to play on and on,
every conceivable tune he had ever known. When finally his memory gave
out, he made up pieces out of songs of birds and the sounds of bells he
had heard.
The group of listeners had constantly grown, for the boys from the
other pastures waiting in vain for Faz and Jos, had gone to seek them.
They got together every afternoon, usually to perpetrate some mischief,
and Jos and Faz being mostly the leaders, they needed them. But the
music pleased all the boys so much that they remained. The afternoon
slipped away unnoticed.
One of the boys suddenly cried, “I hear the horn, it must be six
o’clock.”
Immediately they dispersed, but before going they called back to Vinzi,
“Bring it with you tomorrow! Bring it tomorrow!”
It was high time for Faz and Jos to collect their cows to drive them
home.
“Please, Vinzi, keep the little chap away from us going home. We’ll get
along much faster then. That’s the best way for you to help us.”
Vinzi was only too glad to take charge of Russli. If his cousins found
him most useful that way, he had a good conscience doing it, though it
certainly was no hard work. Russli was also satisfied. Taking Vinzi’s
hand he strolled harmlessly by his side as if he had never played the
slightest trick in his life. But he demanded to be entertained. Every
time Vinzi stopped talking to listen to a bird’s song or the gurgling
of the stream, the little chap reminded him of his presence. When they
approached the house they saw the father standing under the door to
greet them.
“Well, how did you get along the first day, nephew?” he asked. “How did
you like it on our pasture?”
“A pipe, look at my pipe! Here, father, take it!--it sounds fine,”
Russli interrupted loudly, holding the pipe as closely as he could to
his father’s eyes.
“Look, there they come with the cows,” said the father. “Go in and show
it to your mother. I’ll soon come, too.”
“I loved it on the pasture,” Vinzi was now able to answer. “It is
splendid there under the trees. The day passed so quickly!”
“Yes, and Vinzi helped us so much,” added Jos, who had joined them.
“We got up there about ten times quicker than usual and all day the
cows were quietly grazing, something they have not done for ages. I
wish Vinzi would stay with us always.”
“I am glad to hear that,” said the father. “That’s a good beginning and
I hope you will keep on that way.”
He went with the boys to the stable, and Vinzi followed, thinking that
his uncle might need his help there.
“What can I do?” he called to his uncle through the open stable door.
The latter was busy milking. “We’ll be done before very long,” answered
he, “but you can look about in the barn and stable, if you care to.”
Vinzi went out. The sunset glow was gilding the rocky mountains
opposite, the dark spruces had bright, golden tops, and now the bell
of the little chapel began to fill the air with its lovely, peaceful
music. Vinzi, carried completely away by all the beauty, stood and
listened, rooted to the spot. He stood thus until the glow had faded
and the chapel bell had stopped.
“Hello!” cried a voice behind him, while a brisk blow fell on his
back. Then he was pulled by force to the pump, where the very necessary
daily ablutions had to be made before supper.
“Are you awake again?” asked Faz, who had pulled Vinzi along in the
firm belief that he had fallen asleep in the middle of the road.
“Yes, and your fists would certainly have awakened him before he got to
the water,” said Jos, who had stepped up.
“Yes, indeed,” replied Vinzi, “but I would rather he pulled me along
than that he told your father that I fell asleep in the middle of the
road. I wasn’t asleep, you know.”
“He isn’t a tell-tale, but he certainly can give a good blow,” Jos
comforted Vinzi.
Faz proceeded to the house, followed by the others. The mother was
waiting at the table, patiently enduring the dreadful sounds Russli
made with his pipe.
“You pipe like a cat that is half strangled,” Faz cried upon entering.
“You must not make fun of him right away,” said the mother. “He does
not play so badly for a little boy. He was just telling me something
nice about you, Faz. He said that you did not beat him all day, and
that he never cried at all.”
“He only gets hit if he deserves it,” said Faz. “He behaved well today
because Vinzi was amusing him. I hope Vinzi stays with us always.
Everything went as smoothly as possible today.”
The other three entered now and Russli immediately flew to his father
with the cry, “Now the pipe!”
“No, no, Russli, first we eat and then comes the pipe,” said the father
sitting down. “You see when I was their age I also liked to cut pipes
and blow on them. I’ll have to look it over a bit, and then try if I
still know how.”
Russli was satisfied when he saw the deliciously smelling hot corn-cake
his mother had put on the table. He immediately attacked his heaped-up
plate.
After supper, when everybody leaned back happily in their chairs and
the mother had cleared the table, the father said, “Now let me see the
pipe; I want to hear what it sounds like.”
Russli, being rather sleepy after his hearty meal, found it hard to
rouse himself. But he heard his father’s words and was dreadfully
afraid that Faz might bring his pipe to the father first, maybe even
keep it afterwards. This brought him to his feet.
When he approached with it, the father exclaimed with surprise,
examining the long pipe on all sides, “What a well-made pipe! This is
no ordinary pipe at all, but a regular shepherd’s pipe with all the
regular holes. I wonder if I can still play.”
Setting it to his lips, he brought forth sounds that somewhat resembled
melody.
“Oh, father can do it better the first time, than we did after trying
lots of times,” said Jos astonished. “Only Vinzi can do it better
still.”
“We must hear him now,” said the father, handing the pipe to the boy.
“Won’t you please play for us?”
Vinzi remembered one piece better than any and he had already played it
for the boys at least ten times that day. It was the little tune Alida
had taught him.
He started to play.
When he came to the end there was no sound for a moment, because the
lovely melody had moved everyone deeply.
“Yes, of course he plays differently from me,” said the uncle. “I’d
like to know who taught you.”
“Isn’t it fine to have something beautiful like that in one’s own
house, without having to seek it elsewhere?” said the aunt, quite
overcome. “It’s worth more than many great festivities. If our musician
only could play us a beautiful hymn, we could all join in and sing.”
“I’d love to,” said Vinzi, “I know lots, because mother always sings
one at home with us every evening. What shall I play?”
“You probably know the same ones I do. Can you play, ‘I Sing to You
with Heart and Mouth’?” asked the aunt.
Vinzi knew the hymn very well. After seeking a little for the notes
he began to play firmly. The aunt sang heartily, the uncle raised a
splendid bass and suddenly Jos joined in with a rich, fine voice. Faz
growled low sometimes after his father, then he took up his mother’s
high notes. Russli squeaked all sorts of tones too, but the other
voices were so strong that it did not disturb the singing. The aunt was
so happy over the music that she clamored for another song as soon as
the first was done. Then another, and still another.
The uncle said happily, “That was a fine entertainment, and we must do
it again tomorrow. We can’t do any better than praise God with music.”
When Vinzi came to his hay-rick his heart was so full of thanksgiving
that he was obliged to sit down a while on his high threshold. Looking
up to the sky he saw thousands of stars looking happily down upon him.
Oh, how wonderfully beautiful it was here. The father had said that it
was a splendid thing to praise God with music. Tomorrow they would be
allowed to do it again and probably every day after that, thought Vinzi
to himself. The pipe had pleased the uncle, too, and he seemed to enjoy
hearing it. The happiness in Vinzi’s heart rose higher and higher at
this thought. He felt as if he had to sing out loudly once more. In
fact it seemed as if all he had to do was to join in the great song of
praise which came to him from all sides, from the shining stars, the
gleaming chapel, the merrily rushing stream, and the golden moon over
the high mountains. He quietly sang to the glorious, magic music about
him.
The wind stirred gently and wafted the perfume from the pungent hay to
Vinzi’s senses. Suddenly he remembered where he was. As it had grown
very cool, he quickly closed the door and sought his inviting bed.
From that day on Lorenz Leza’s family had music every night. They sang
eagerly as if it was the chief work of the day. But the work of the day
was behind them, and they could give themselves freely to the joys of
their happy evenings. What pleased Vinzi most was that his uncle and
aunt always counted on having music every night. At supper time the
aunt always said, “I look forward already to Vinzi’s playing.”
And when the meal was over the uncle would say, “I suppose we still
have time for a song or two.”
Whenever his uncle Lorenz started to sing, more songs he had known in
his youth rose in his memory. Even if Vinzi did not know them, all the
uncle had to do was to sing them to the boy a few times and the latter
would repeat them perfectly. The rest could follow his piping and in
that way learn all the songs. The uncle got a tremendous satisfaction
from it all. When such a musical evening had passed the uncle shook
Vinzi’s hand three or four times. “You can make one young again with
your music,” he would say. “You are piping the joy of youth back into
my heart, boy.”