UNEXPECTED HAPPENINGS
Stefeli’s summer after Vinzi’s departure had passed much more
pleasantly than she could have forseen. This was due to Mr. Delrick,
who never started off on a long walk without calling into the room and
asking, “Can Stefeli come with me?”
As the child had given up her life on the pasture since Vinzi had
gone away, the mother always welcomed this opportunity of sending her
out. Stefeli had really been obliged to sit at home a great deal,
and the poor child could not help fretting and sighing. Every time
she heard that question, she gladly tossed the horrid long stocking
aside and skipped out into the sunshine. There was no end to all the
things Stefeli discussed with her companion. He was always interested
in whatever she told him about herself and Vinzi, their life at home
and on the pasture. He heard about the music lessons and the strange
consequences they had brought, also how the members of the household
differed on certain subjects.
In this way Mr. Delrick acquired a minute knowledge of the happenings
in the Lesa household. But he became intimate with the three members of
the family in other ways besides. Vinzenz Lesa liked to spend his free
evenings on the bench before his house. Here the walnut tree wafted to
him the perfume of its fragrant leaves. When he smoked his pipe, he was
always glad if Mr. Delrick came to talk to him, for the farmer loved to
discuss the affairs of the world. Mr. Delrick who had a wide knowledge,
could explain many things that were not quite clear to him and also
showed a lively interest in everything connected with agriculture. They
discussed the problems of the farm together, and even when Mr. Lesa
was the instructor, Mr. Delrick’s suggestions proved very useful. Many
changes and improvements were made on the place in consequence.
Mr. Delrick’s conversation with Mrs. Lesa was very different. It
always drifted to the same subject, even if they had begun to talk
of something else. This absorbing subject was Vinzi. The mother had
told Mr. Delrick of Vinzi’s intense love of music from the time he had
been a little lad, and how the father’s whole ambition was centered
on bringing him up as a successful farmer. The father’s pride and joy
consisted in the work he was doing and he naturally expected the boy
to look after the property some day. This conflict filled her with
deep anxiety. She saw no way out of the difficult situation and was
constantly anticipating some great sorrow as the final outcome.
Mr. Delrick was filled with sympathetic interest and tried to allay her
anxiety. He comforted her by saying that young boys often put aside
such fancies, especially when a smiling future lay before them, as
was the case with Vinzi. Her troublesome thoughts kept on recurring
nevertheless, and it was hard for the mother to anticipate the future
calmly. His sympathetic words seemed to ease her heart, however, and
therefore he regularly led back to their usual subject of conversation.
In this way Mr. Delrick had succeeded in becoming the special friend
and confidant of every member of the little household. Whenever a
question came up which was hard to solve, Stefeli, as well as her
father and mother, said right away, “We must ask Mr. Delrick, he’ll
know,” or when something was worrying them, “If we ask Mr. Delrick,
he’ll tell us what to do.”
When the good news was brought from the mountain that Vinzi was loved
there by old and young and had grown so merry that everybody else had
grown still more so, Mr. Delrick took as lively an interest in the
news as if he were a member of the family, too. The mother remained
rather quiet, but he as well as the father could not help hoping that
the lad had at last found satisfaction in his work. He looked forward,
therefore, to the happy reunion of the little family in which he had
grown so intimate before he left them.
The day came when father Lesa had given his wife, in the presence of
Mr. Delrick, the news of Vinzi’s homecoming in five days. Meeting an
old acquaintance who was driving across the mountain, he had made use
of the opportunity to ask him to bring his boy home. This the man had
promised to do.
The mother’s heart beat with joyous anticipation, and Stefeli in her
excitement could not sit still any longer but flew restlessly here
and there in the most aimless fashion. She felt as if she could not
possibly live through those days. She constantly counted the hours;
if a day had twenty-four hours, five days had five times as many. Oh,
that made a dreadful lot of hours. But she had reckoned the hours when
she was asleep and luckily one did not feel those. So the counting had
to begin anew. Strangely enough the fifth day had come at last and much
sooner than she had dared to hope.
Stefeli had returned from a stroll with Mr. Delrick just as her father
had come in from the field. “Vinzi may come any moment now,” he said to
the mother. “Let’s have supper so he can sit right down with us.”
Mr. Delrick was called and they began to eat. Stefeli could scarcely
swallow from nervousness, and the mother, too, could not disguise her
agitation.
“Here he comes!” suddenly cried the child, as she bounded away.
None of the others had heard anything, but a few moments later Stefeli
entered the room, triumphantly holding Vinzi’s hand. The joy of the
parents at their son’s return was not noisy, but it could not be
doubted. Vinzenz Lesa’s look betokened real pride when he led the boy
up to Mr. Delrick.
The latter gazed at him keenly, for his thoughts had long been busy
with him. He did not need to wonder when he saw the splendid lad who
had so completely won his mother’s heart and upon whom his father had
built his hopes.
Everybody sat down, and Vinzi was asked to tell about his relatives.
He grew constantly more lively and could not say enough of their
kindness to him. When the father wished to know how the pasture up
there had pleased him, Vinzi in blissful remembrance described the
mountain-pasture to them. The violets up there filled the air with
fragrance and the high larches spread their wide branches over the
moss-covered stones. The cows grazed quietly between the trees so that
their bells resounded far and wide like a song of peace.
The mother asked if beautiful flowers grew on the pasture. Here Vinzi
grew still more enthusiastic and told them about the red field of roses
which gleamed in the sunshine and from below made the whole mountain
look like fire. Vinzi also spoke of his sleeping room and how he had
loved to have his own little house which was filled with the delicious
fragrance of hay.
Father and mother looked quite amazed at their son. Never before
had he spoken with such surety and animation, and both had the same
impression. They said to themselves that Vinzi was not the boy who had
left them. The father added to himself, “He has matured up there. That
is good, for he’ll know now what he wants.” And the mother thought,
“New life has sprung up within him. I wonder what will be the outcome.”
Next morning Stefeli was on her feet especially early, for the joy of
having Vinzi with her again had not let her sleep any longer. She had
wanted to knock on his door in order to keep him from oversleeping.
Now everything would have to go back to the old order and they would
be able to go together to the pasture as of yore, something she had a
tremendous longing for.
Just as she put her finger to the door, Vinzi opened it and came out
completely dressed.
Stefeli drew back amazed.
“But you get up dreadfully early!” she exclaimed. “You never used to do
that, Vinzi; that’s why I wanted to call you.”
“Now you see that I can do it, too,” Vinzi said, laughing at her
surprise. “On the mountain I always got up early. When one impatiently
looks forward to something pleasant, sleep goes off easily. One can
jump out of bed then. You see I have still the habit.”
“What was it that made you so happy? What did you look forward to every
day?” asked Stefeli surprised.
“Come, I’ll tell you,” said Vinzi, going downstairs.
Under the open door stood the father taking a look at the weather. He
too, had only just come out of his bedroom. He turned around.
“What, you up already?” he said, astonished. “That’s a good sign. You
learned something worth while up there, Vinzi, for you did not use to
be the first in the morning. Come and walk over to our walnut trees
till your mother calls us to breakfast. Don’t you think our trees are
fine, and the grass about them, too? I hope you have learned to see
that it is not quite so bad here at home. It is beautiful here, isn’t
it?”
“Oh, yes,” assented Vinzi from the bottom of his heart, looking up to
the rich foliage of the walnut trees under whose shade he had spent so
many happy hours.
“I suppose you found out up there how fine the life of a farmer really
is. If you have done so, you’ll realize now how beautiful our place is.
You could not possibly have a better prospect than to own and cultivate
such a fine farm. Don’t you agree with me that it is the best anybody
could hope for?”
“I know something I’d like much better,” replied Vinzi with hesitation.
Then he was silent.
In surprise the farmer gazed at his son.
“Listen to me, Vinzi. I don’t mind if you enjoyed the mountain so much,
and I won’t say a word against it. Only I don’t understand what you
should have found up there better than we have. What is it? Tell me!”
“Oh, the most beautiful thing I know is Pater Silvanus’ harmonium in
the hospice. My dearest wish would be to learn to play it as well as he
does,” answered Vinzi.
Vinzenz Lesa directed a searching glance at his son. After a pause he
said, “Do you mean that seriously, Vinzi, or is it meant to be a joke?”
“Oh, no, I mean it,” answered Vinzi.
“So,” said the father abruptly. “Now I’ll tell you something, too, for
you ought to know what I think. I sent you away because I wanted you to
learn all about farming in company with those jolly boys. You simply
have to learn to enjoy it sooner or later. I thought that your eyes had
been opened and you had matured and come back more sensible. Now I find
you just as childish as when you started, with nothing in your head but
nonsense and foolish music. But I’ll find other ways and means to teach
you sense. After all there must be some way for a person to see how
lucky he is. I should never have thought that you could have started
such rubbish up there, too. Well, that settles it! You shall never go
back! I’ll still find a way.”
Vinzi had listened calmly to everything the father had said. But the
last words seemed to crush him like a thunderbolt. The moment his
father turned and went towards the house, he threw himself on the
ground. By pressing his face into the grass he tried to stifle his
violent sobs. He had secretly feared that his father would not want to
hear anything about his longing to study music, and he had not dared to
have any hope in that respect. All his finest anticipations, however,
had been built upon returning to the mountain. Everything was now at an
end and the terrible words, “You shall never go back,” resounded over
and over again.
“Vinzi, you are to”--cried Stefeli now, but she stopped suddenly and
ran over to him. “What is it, Vinzi?” she asked, terribly frightened
on hearing his sobs and groans.
[Illustration: “WHAT IS IT, VINZI?” SHE ASKED, TERRIBLY FRIGHTENED ON
HEARING HIS SOBS AND GROANS]
But the boy could give her no reply.
“I am sure you have to come,” Stefeli said timidly, “If you could only
stop, Vinzi. You must come to breakfast, for father is already sitting
down and mother sent me for you.”
Vinzi jumped up and ran to the pump. By washing his eyes over and over
again he hoped to remove the traces of his tears.
“It doesn’t matter, just come now,” Stefeli urged. “Mr. Delrick never
comes down to breakfast, father doesn’t pay attention, and mother won’t
say anything. Please come now.”
As the two entered, the father threw a sharp glance at Vinzi, who took
his seat with a drooping head. Vinzenz Lesa pushed his half-emptied cup
from him and, rising, went quickly out.
He could not stand the sight of tears, least of all from his boy, who
was more precious to him than his estate. The mother gazed after him
surprised.
“What is the matter with father? He didn’t even empty his cup,” she
said, glancing at Vinzi, who just then raised his eyes. “But for
heaven’s sake, Vinzi, what is wrong with you?” she cried, much more
concerned still. “Your eyes are swollen and red. What has happened?”
Vinzi wanted to say something but could not utter a sound. Laying his
head upon his arm, he burst out crying.
The mother’s face expressed the greatest anxiety as she looked at him.
Stefeli quickly swallowed her milk, then ran outside.
“If only Mr. Delrick would come,” she sighed. Stefeli had noticed
that whenever her parents sought his advice, affairs were usually
straightened out, so she was most anxious to find him now.
Mr. Delrick had just left his room and was that moment coming
downstairs.
“All ready to start?” he asked kindly, when Stefeli bounded to him and
gave him her hand. “Will you take a morning walk with me?”
Stefeli had hoped for this and willingly started on her way with her
desired companion. He soon heard what lay heavily on her heart; how
Vinzi had red and swollen eyes from crying and the father had pushed
away his cup of coffee before finishing it and had quickly gone out;
also how terribly sad the mother looked, more sad than she had ever
seen her.
“But I am sure you can help us,” Stefeli concluded with firm conviction.
“I’ll do what I can,” Mr. Delrick promised, smilingly.
But the child’s words had made him very thoughtful; he seriously
wondered if the mother’s sad supposition would be realized now. The
thought worried him the more, as he had fixed upon his departure within
the next few days, having planned to meet a friend at the Italian lakes.
When the two returned from their walk, matters had not improved.
Vinzi had finally told his mother the words that had crushed him so
completely. He thought that everything now was over, but his mother
comforted him by saying that the father’s words were probably not
final. If only Vinzi tried hard to stick to his work and did everything
to please his father, showing in that way that he really cared for what
he wanted of him, the time would surely come when he would be allowed
to go back to his friends.
But Vinzi shook his head. “Father won’t ever let me go back there, for
he said that I was finding pleasure in something he does not want me to
do. And it’s true. I understand now what he means, and I never quite
knew before.”
To this the mother said nothing, for she could not help feeling that
Vinzi was right. Would the boy be sent away again, and where? Her
husband had another relative, an older brother, with whom he used to
manage their property in Freiburg, till their old cousin in Leuk had
died. Her husband had taken charge of it, as they had inherited it
together. He had felt that, as the beautiful place was so badly run
down, it was better to look after it himself for a number of years, if
he wanted to bring it up again. Her husband’s brother was as silent and
unsociable as the old cousin who used to live here had been, and he
also looked quite as unkempt. Vinzenz Lesa had left a hired man on the
farm, who looked after things. His brother never wanted to undertake
anything new and only hoped that Vinzenz Lesa would soon return.
Mrs. Lesa knew that there had been rather odd members in the Lesa
family from time to time and suddenly a new anxiety rose in her heart.
If the father should really decide to send Vinzi to his father’s old
farm in order to teach him interest in farm work, he naturally would
find no other distractions there. Mightn’t the boy, who had always been
different from other children, become more peculiar? He might in the
exclusive company of his uncle get rather odd in his ways. People had
told her that the old man who used to live in Leuk would sit by the
hour before his barn staring straight in front of him. People used to
call him Starri from Leuk.[C] Their brother in Freiburg was supposed to
do the same. Such names easily become current, and as every one knew
where the Lesa family originally came from, he, too, was called by the
people the Starri of Leuk.
When Mrs. Lesa’s thoughts had travelled thus far, she felt still more
worried. The father’s chief cause of complaint against the boy was that
he always stared into the distance, not seeing and hearing what went on
before his eyes. Would it be possible that her lively, splendid Vinzi
should turn into the third Starri of Leuk?
Mrs. Lesa was suddenly roused from her disturbing thoughts by Stefeli’s
entrance. The child told her that Mr. Delrick had already come back
from his walk and was sitting in Vinzi’s room talking to the boy.
Quickly she set about preparing his breakfast for as he had come back
so much earlier than usual, she was not yet ready for him.
Mr. Delrick knew about Vinzi’s keen passion for music as well as the
father’s wishes and desires for his son’s future, with the original
cause of Vinzi’s stay on the mountain. But he had not understood from
Stefeli’s words what had brought on Vinzi’s tears and the father’s
anger so soon after the boy’s happy return. As he took the greatest
interest in the weal and woe of the Lesa family, he wished to know if
he could not help them somehow. His stay in the house was to be of very
short duration, that was why he had come back so soon from his stroll.
He had gone to the darkly brooding Vinzi and informed him that he was
planning to go to the Italian lakes and in two days would travel across
the Simplon. If Vinzi had any messages for friends there, he would be
glad to deliver them, as he expected to spend the night there.
For a moment a ray of sunshine flitted over Vinzi’s face.
“Are you also going to see Pater Silvanus and the grandfather?” he
asked, with burning eagerness.
“I don’t know who they are,” replied Mr. Delrick. “But tell me about
all your friends there and what happened to you on the mountain. Then
you can tell me what messages I am to take to them.”
To be able to speak about things which were in his inmost thoughts
poured balm on Vinzi’s aching heart. Mr. Delrick’s deep sympathy and
understanding of his joy in his music studies with Pater Silvanus
made it possible for him to tell about everything that had made him
so happy on the mountain. He was willing enough to do whatever work
he was set to do, Vinzi concluded, but the idea of never playing any
more or hearing more music was too dreadful. He had till now always
had the hope that he could spend next summer on the mountain and could
then continue his lessons with Pater Silvanus, but today his father had
definitely told him that he was never to go back.
The matter began to grow clearer to Mr. Delrick.
“Tell me, Vinzi,” he said, after a pause, “did the Pater urge you to
keep up your music at home or did he only mean to take it up again when
you went back to him?”
Vinzi reported the Pater’s injunction, also his own reply, telling how
impossible this was on account of his father’s objection to it.
“Would you like to learn an instrument in order to give yourself
pleasure by playing, Vinzi?” said Mr. Delrick. “Did you ever think of
making music your whole and only life’s work? I suppose you could not
even imagine that?”
Vinzi’s eyes flamed.
“Oh, yes, I could, and I thought about it long ago, when I was on the
mountain. I could imagine well how it would be,” Vinzi assured him.
“I don’t only want to study an instrument, but to learn everything
about music. Pater Silvanus knows everything and can explain how to
put the tones together in order to make harmonious music. Also how to
write down melodies one has in one’s head so people can read it again
from a sheet. He had already begun to explain it all and teach me how
to do it. It was so wonderful! I wouldn’t mind shoveling snow all day
and working hard the way they have to do up there in winter, if only I
could spend the evenings with Pater Silvanus, for he said he would keep
on teaching me. Now I’ll never be allowed to go up the mountain any
more, never!”
It was hard for Vinzi to suppress his newly rising grief.
“You see, Vinzi,” Mr. Delrick said kindly, “your father wants you to
be happy. You know that yourself and I can absolutely assure you of
it. He said the words you worry about so much because he thinks that
your life on the mountain might interfere with your future happiness.
Time may bring many changes, and therefore it is possible that he won’t
have to keep his word. It is entirely wrong, though, for you to keep
on repeating these words to yourself, for they only make you sad and
take all your spirit away. Did you not find joy and happiness where you
expected unhappiness? Remember that, Vinzi, and keep up your courage.”
The mother had entered meanwhile and after setting the breakfast on
the table had immediately vanished. It had calmed her to hear how Mr.
Delrick was speaking to her boy and how attentively the latter was
listening.
“Now, Vinzi,” said Mr. Delrick rising, “pull yourself together and be
glad that you are home again. Show your father a pleasant face when
he comes home, and if you are willing to do what he tells you to,
everything may still come right. Will you promise me to think about
what I have just now said?”
This Vinzi gladly did, and when the mother entered a little later
after Mr. Delrick had gone out, his eyes already were somewhat clearer.
The day went quietly by. All the inmates of the house, feeling that
the happiness of the evening before had vanished, could not help being
depressed. When the day was over and Vinzenz Lesa had settled as usual
on his bench, his forehead lay in deep furrows. Staring at the ground,
he even let his pipe go out.
Mr. Delrick now stepped up to him.
“Mr. Lesa,” he said, striking a match and offering the light to his
host, “you are not in a good humor, or you would not let your pipe go
out. Here, light it again.”
“Humor, you say, humor!” Lesa repeated grimly. “If one’s field is
spoilt by hail, one can always hope that it will bring good fruit next
year. But when a man’s only son goes from bad to worse, no hope is left
him. From worse he can only go to worst, and then I suppose he can’t go
any further.”
“As far as I can judge you have a very upright, well-mannered son,”
said Mr. Delrick deliberately.
“Yes, he is. I don’t complain of that,” retorted Lesa. “It’s something
else. What help is there when everything has been done to make him
happy and he does not see it or know what is best for him. He only
hankers after childish rubbish! I won’t give in till he comes to
reason, even if I should have to send him across the ocean. I know of a
place, though, which is quite near, where he couldn’t find any chance
to keep up his foolish fancies.”
“I suppose you mean by that your son’s passion for music and his
desire to devote himself to it. There might be more in it than foolish
fancies, though; it might be very serious on his part,” said Mr.
Delrick.
“Something serious in it!” replied the father in agitation. “It is just
play, like any other. I have nothing against it, if young boys sing
jolly songs in the evenings. But that is not the way he does. He sits
and stares and neither sees nor hears anything, but thinks about his
foolish piping. Once I found a whole heap of pipes he had carved. How
could that be other than childish rubbish? And the idea of putting your
thoughts on such a thing!”
“That shows that there is something serious in it,” answered Mr.
Delrick. “If it were only play like any other, he would have exchanged
it for something else long ago, the way boys are apt to do. His whole
thinking and wishing then would not always go to the same object. His
persistence in trying to make a better instrument for himself, shows
how great his zeal for the matter really is. I am perfectly convinced
that it is not play, but serious work with him.”
“Work! the idea of calling that work!”
To express his indignation, Vinzenz Lesa blew unusually thick clouds of
smoke from his pipe.
“Music certainly can be work, and where there is real talent, it can be
a splendid career,” Mr. Delrick continued. “I think you ought to let
your son learn an instrument. His longing for it is so great that he
would gladly do the heaviest work to have this wish gratified.”
Vinzenz Lesa put by his pipe, which was a sure sign of intense
excitement.
“Sir,” he said with suppressed anger, “Vinzenz Lesa’s only son shall
not be a musician. He has an estate on which he can live like a
gentleman. If he wants to blow a trumpet later on, he can well afford
to. But it is quite another matter to take a boy away from a healthy,
sound work and bring him up to playing instruments and making music. He
has no sense yet and would probably come to me and say what you have
just told me, that he wants to make music his career. No sir, Vinzenz
Lesa’s son is not going to be a travelling musician.”
“All musicians do not necessarily have to be vagabonds,” was Mr.
Delrick’s quick reply. “There are many musicians with glorious gifts
who do their work quite differently.”
“Yes, and they all come to one’s house,” continued the excited father,
“many hundreds of them. They all make music. The father plays on a
broken fiddle and a woman in rags sings with a shrill voice. That’s
the end of all of them! If you had an only son, sir, would you let him
become such a one?”
“Surely not one like that,” replied Mr. Delrick. “But if I should
happen to have a son with great gifts as a composer, nothing would
prevent me from furthering his wishes.”
“My boy has not got great gifts,” said the father obstinately,
“because such great gifts don’t happen often. Will you believe me when
I say that as soon as Vinzi comes to reason, he’ll be glad and grateful
that he can live on a beautiful farm and doesn’t have to wander about
the world as a musician?”
Mr. Delrick had to admit to himself that he really did not know how
much talent Vinzi had. All he knew was the boy’s great longing. He also
felt that Mr. Lesa’s opinion about a musician’s miserable life could
not possibly be changed. He had puzzled how he could be certain on that
point. How otherwise would he have the right to fight the father’s
great disinclination? Maybe he should rather support the father’s
opinion and help to bring his son to the right path.
“Mr. Lesa,” he said, rising and giving his hand to his host, “don’t
let us talk about it any more today, for we don’t seem to come to an
understanding, but I mean to take it up again and I hope we shall fully
agree with each other then. We have always gotten along so well till
now.”
“So we have,” replied Vinzenz Lesa, shaking the proffered hand.
“Whenever we don’t agree, I always know that you mean well.”
Mr. Delrick now made ready to go. On the next day, the last before his
departure, the whole house was as still and quiet as if a misfortune
were impending. To the unhappy thoughts of the inmates was added the
grief that the friend who had always been their comfort was to leave
them. Stefeli had expected everything to be joyful again as soon as
Vinzi returned. Just the opposite had happened, and now the only one
who could have helped them was going away.
On the last evening Mr. Delrick told the mother of his conversation
with Mr. Lesa and comforted her by the assurance that he had not given
up the hope of finding a way out for Vinzi. But she had given up and
saw only grief ahead for them all. Even if her husband would give way
to the persuasions of Mr. Delrick, he would never be reconciled to the
matter and a breach would remain between them. Only one person could
have prevented that, and he was the one who had to go.
Vinzi felt that if he could talk sometimes with Mr. Delrick he might
regain his joy and confidence. His heart was therefore very heavy at
his friend’s departure. Mr. Lesa had the full conviction that his wife
and son did not understand what was necessary for Vinzi’s good. The
only person who would probably comprehend it at last and would then
bring the others round was departing. Mr. Delrick in spite of speaking
a kindly word to one and an encouraging one to the other was unable to
lift their spirits.
In the evening when he had withdrawn to his room, some one knocked
on his door and Vinzi entered, carrying two little books and a small
package. He asked timidly if Mr. Delrick would take these things to his
three cousins. The package he had promised to send to Russli before he
left. The books were for Jos and Faz, for the boys had told him that
they liked to read on winter evenings. As they possessed so few books,
they were obliged to read the same ones over and over again. Vinzi also
wished to send his best love to everybody in his uncle’s house, as well
as to the grandfather and Pater Silvanus. He was anxious to thank them
all and let them know how happy he had been with them and how much
he wanted ... but here Vinzi could speak no further. Quickly saying
good-night he went out.
Mr. Delrick had planned to go back from the Italian lakes to Germany
by another route. He hoped to return next summer, at which the whole
family rejoiced. Stefeli, however, thought that this was too far off.
Early next morning he drove away in the direction of the Simplon.