Heidi Makes Use of Her Experience
[Illustration]
XV
PREPARATIONS FOR A JOURNEY
The kind doctor who had sent Heidi home to her beloved mountains was
approaching the Sesemann residence on a sunny day in September.
Everything about him was bright and cheerful, but the doctor did not
even raise his eyes from the pavement to the blue sky above. His face
was sad and his hair had turned very gray since spring. A few months
ago the doctor had lost his only daughter, who had lived with him
since his wife's early death. The blooming girl had been his only joy,
and since she had gone from him the ever-cheerful doctor was bowed
down with grief.
When Sebastian opened the door to the physician he bowed very low, for
the doctor made friends wherever he went.
"I am glad you have come doctor," Mr. Sesemann called to his friend as
he entered. "Please let us talk over this trip to Switzerland again.
Do you still give the same advice, now that Clara is so much better?"
"What must I think of you, Sesemann?" replied the doctor, sitting
down. "I wish your mother was here. Everything is clear to her and
things go smoothly then. This is the third time to-day that you have
called me, and always for the same thing!"
"It is true, it must make you impatient," said Mr. Sesemann. Laying
his hand on his friend's shoulder, he continued: "I cannot say how
hard it is for me to refuse Clara this trip. Haven't I promised it to
her and hasn't she looked forward to it for months? She has borne all
her suffering so patiently, just because she had hoped to be able to
visit her little friend on the Alp. I hate to rob her of this
pleasure. The poor child has so many trials and so little change."
"But, Sesemann, you must do it," was the doctor's answer. When his
friend remained silent, he continued: "Just think what a hard summer
Clara has had! She never was more ill and we could not attempt this
journey without risking the worst consequences. Remember, we are in
September now, and though the weather may still be fine on the Alp, it
is sure to be very cool. The days are getting short, and she could
only spend a few hours up there, if she had to return for the night.
It would take several hours to have her carried up from Ragatz. You
see yourself how impossible it is! I shall come in with you, though,
to talk to Clara, and you'll find her sensible. I'll tell you of my
plan for next May. First she can go to Ragatz to take the baths. When
it gets warm on the mountain, she can be carried up from time to time.
She'll be stronger then and much more able to enjoy those excursions
than she is now. If we hope for an improvement in her condition, we
must be extremely cautious and careful, remember that!"
Mr. Sesemann, who had been listening with the utmost submission, now
said anxiously: "Doctor, please tell me honestly if you still have
hope left for any change?"
With shrugging shoulders the doctor replied: "Not very much. But think
of me, Sesemann! Have you not a child, who loves you and always
welcomes you? You don't have to come back to a lonely house and sit
down alone at your table. Your child is well taken care of, and if she
has many privations, she also has many advantages. Sesemann, you do
not need to be pitied! Just think of my lonely home!"
Mr. Sesemann had gotten up and was walking round the room, as he
always did when something occupied his thoughts. Suddenly he stood
before his friend and said: "Doctor, I have an idea. I cannot see you
sad any longer. You must get away. You shall undertake this trip and
visit Heidi in our stead."
The doctor had been surprised by this proposal, and tried to object.
But Mr. Sesemann was so full of his new project that he pulled his
friend with him into his daughter's room, not leaving him time for any
remonstrances. Clara loved the doctor, who had always tried to cheer
her up on his visits by bright and funny tales. She was sorry for the
change that had come over him and would have given much to see him
happy again. When he had shaken hands with her, both men pulled up
their chairs to Clara's bedside. Mr. Sesemann began to speak of their
journey and how sorry he was to give it up. Then he quickly began to
talk of his new plan.
Clara's eyes had filled with tears. But she knew that her father did
not like to see her cry, and besides she was sure that her papa would
only forbid her this pleasure because it was absolutely necessary to
do so.
So she bravely fought her tears, and caressing the doctor's hand,
said:
"Oh please, doctor, do go to Heidi; then you can tell me all about
her, and can describe her grandfather to me, and Peter, with his
goats,--I seem to know them all so well. Then you can take all the
things to her that I had planned to take myself. Oh, please doctor,
go, and then I'll be good and take as much cod-liver oil as ever you
want me to."
Who can tell if this promise decided the doctor? At any rate he
answered with a smile: "Then I surely must go, Clara, for you will get
fat and strong, as we both want to see you. Have you settled yet when
I must go?"
"Oh, you had better go tomorrow morning, doctor," Clara urged.
"She is right," the father assented; "the sun is shining and you must
not lose any more glorious days on the Alp."
The doctor had to laugh. "Why don't you chide me for being here still?
I shall go as quickly as I can, Sesemann."
Clara gave many messages to him for Heidi. She also told him to be
sure to observe everything closely, so that he would be able to tell
her all about it when he came back. The things for Heidi were to be
sent to him later, for Miss Rottenmeier, who had to pack them, was out
on one of her lengthy wanderings about town.
The doctor promised to comply with all Clara's wishes and to start the
following day.
Clara rang for the maid and said to her, when she arrived: "Please,
Tinette, pack a lot of fresh, soft coffee-cake in this box." A box
had been ready for this purpose many days. When the maid was leaving
the room she murmured: "That's a silly bother!"
Sebastian, who had happened to overhear some remarks, asked the
physician when he was leaving to take his regards to the little Miss,
as he called Heidi.
With a promise to deliver this message the doctor was just hastening
out, when he encountered an obstacle. Miss Rottenmeier, who had been
obliged to return from her walk on account of the strong wind, was
just coming in. She wore a large cape, which the wind was blowing
about her like two full sails. Both had retreated politely to give way
to each other. Suddenly the wind seemed to carry the housekeeper
straight towards the doctor, who had barely time to avoid her. This
little incident, which had ruffled Miss Rottenmeier's temper very
much, gave the doctor occasion to soothe her, as she liked to be
soothed by this man, whom she respected more than anybody in the
world. Telling her of his intended visit, he entreated her to pack the
things for Heidi as only she knew how.
Clara had expected some resistance from Miss Rottenmeier about the
packing of her presents. What was her surprise when this lady showed
herself most obliging, and immediately, on being told, brought
together all the articles! First came a heavy coat for Heidi, with a
hood, which Clara meant her to use on visits to the grandmother in the
winter. Then came a thick warm shawl and a large box with coffee-cake
for the grandmother. An enormous sausage for Peter's mother followed,
and a little sack of tobacco for the grandfather. At last a lot of
mysterious little parcels and boxes were packed, things that Clara had
gathered together for Heidi. When the tidy pack lay ready on the
ground, Clara's heart filled with pleasure at the thought of her
little friend's delight.
Sebastian now entered, and putting the pack on his shoulder, carried
it to the doctor's house without delay.
XVI
A GUEST ON THE ALP
The early dawn was tinging the mountains and a fresh morning-breeze
rocked the old fir-trees to and fro. Heidi opened her eyes, for the
rustling of the wind had awakened her. These sounds always thrilled
her heart, and now they drew her out of bed. Rising hurriedly, she
soon was neatly dressed and combed.
Coming down the little ladder and finding the grandfather's bed empty,
she ran outside. The old man was looking up at the sky to see what the
weather was going to be like that day. Rosy clouds were passing
overhead, but gradually the sky grew more blue and deep, and soon a
golden light passed over the heights, for the sun was rising in all
his glory.
"Oh, how lovely! Good-morning, grandfather," Heidi exclaimed.
"Are your eyes bright already?" the grandfather retorted, holding out
his hand.
Heidi then ran over to her beloved fir-trees and danced about, while
the wind was howling in the branches.
After the old man had washed and milked the goats, he brought them out
of the shed. When Heidi saw her friends again, she caressed them
tenderly, and they in their turn nearly crushed her between them.
Sometimes when Bärli got too wild, Heidi would say: "But Bärli, you
push me like the Big Turk," and that was enough to quiet the goat.
Soon Peter arrived with the whole herd, the jolly Thistlefinch ahead
of all the others. Heidi, being soon in the mist of them, was pushed
about among them. Peter was anxious to say a word to the little girl,
so he gave a shrill whistle, urging the goats to climb ahead. When he
was near her he said reproachfully: "You really might come with me
to-day!"
"No, I can't, Peter," said Heidi. "They might come from Frankfurt any
time. I must be home when they come."
"How often you have said that," grumbled the boy.
"But I mean it," replied Heidi. "Do you really think I want to be away
when they come from Frankfurt? Do you really think that, Peter?"
"They could come to uncle," Peter growled.
Then the grandfather's strong voice was heard: "Why doesn't the army
go forward? Is it the field-marshal's fault, or the fault of the
troop?"
Peter immediately turned about and led his goats up the mountain
without more ado.
Since Heidi had come home again to her grandfather she did many things
that had never occurred to her before. For instance, she would make
her bed every morning, and run about the hut, tidying and dusting.
With an old rag she would rub the chairs and table till they all
shone, and the grandfather would exclaim: "It is always Sunday with us
now; Heidi has not been away in vain."
On this day after breakfast, when Heidi began her self-imposed task,
it took her longer than usual, for the weather was too glorious to
stay within. Over and over again a bright sunbeam would tempt the busy
child outside. How could she stay indoors, when the glistening
sunshine was pouring down and all the mountains seemed to glow? She
had to sit down on the dry, hard ground and look down into the valley
and all about her. Then, suddenly remembering her little duties, she
would hasten back. It was not long, though, till the roaring fir-trees
tempted her again. The grandfather had been busy in his little shop,
merely glancing over at the child from time to time. Suddenly he heard
her call: "Oh grandfather, come!"
He was frightened and came out quickly He saw her running down the
hill crying: "They are coming, they are coming. Oh, the doctor is
coming first."
[Illustration: THEY ARE COMING, OH, THE DOCTOR IS COMING FIRST]
When Heidi at last reached her old friend, he held out his hand, which
Heidi immediately seized. In the full joy of her heart, she exclaimed:
"How do you do, doctor? And I thank you a thousand times!"
"How are you, Heidi? But what are you thanking me for already?" the
doctor asked, with a smile.
"Because you let me come home again," the child explained.
The gentleman's face lit up like sunshine. He had certainly not
counted on such a reception on the Alp. On the contrary! Not even
noticing all the beauty around him, he had climbed up sadly, for he
was sure that Heidi probably would not know him any more. He thought
that he would be far from welcome, being obliged to cause her a great
disappointment. Instead, he beheld Heidi's bright eyes looking up at
him in gratefulness and love. She was still holding his arm, when he
said: "Come now, Heidi, and take me to your grandfather, for I want
to see where you live."
Like a kind father he had taken her hand, but Heidi stood still and
looked down the mountain-side.
"But where are Clara and grandmama?" she asked.
"Child, I must tell you something now which will grieve you as much as
it grieves me," replied the doctor. "I had to come alone, for Clara
has been very ill and could not travel. Of course grandmama has not
come either; but the spring will soon be here, and when the days get
long and warm, they will surely visit you."
Heidi was perfectly amazed; she could not understand how all those
things that she had pictured to herself so clearly would not happen
after all. She was standing perfectly motionless, confused by the
blow.
It was some time before Heidi remembered that, after all, she had come
down to meet the doctor. Looking up at her friend, she was struck by
his sad and cheerless face. How changed he was since she had seen
him! She did not like to see people unhappy, least of all the good,
kind doctor. He must be sad because Clara and grandmama had not come,
and to console him she said: "Oh, it won't last long till spring comes
again; then they will come for sure; they'll be able to stay much
longer then, and that will please Clara. Now we'll go to grandfather."
Hand in hand she climbed up with her old friend. All the way she tried
to cheer him up by telling him again and again of the coming summer
days. After they had reached the cottage, she called out to her
grandfather quite happily:
"They are not here yet, but it won't be very long before they are
coming!"
The grandfather warmly welcomed his guest, who did not seem at all a
stranger, for had not Heidi told him many things about the doctor?
They all three sat down on the bench before the door, and the doctor
told of the object of his visit. He whispered to the child that
something was coming up the mountain very soon which would bring her
more pleasure than his visit. What could it be?
The uncle advised the doctor to spend the splendid days of autumn on
the Alp, if possible, and to take a little room in the village instead
of in Ragatz; then he could easily walk up every day to the hut, and
from there the uncle could take him all around the mountains. This
plan was accepted.
The sun was in its zenith and the wind had ceased. Only a soft
delicious breeze fanned the cheeks of all.
The uncle now got up and went into the hut, returning soon with a
table and their dinner.
"Go in, Heidi, and set the table here. I hope you will excuse our
simple meal," he said, turning to his guest.
"I shall gladly accept this delightful invitation; I am sure that
dinner will taste good up here," said the guest, looking down over the
sun-bathed valley.
Heidi was running to and fro, for it gave her great joy to be able to
wait on her kind protector. Soon the uncle appeared with the steaming
milk, the toasted cheese, and the finely-sliced, rosy meat that had
been dried in the pure air. The doctor enjoyed his dinner better than
any he had ever tasted.
"Yes, we must send Clara up here. How she could gather strength!" he
said; "If she would have an appetite like mine to-day, she couldn't
help getting nice and fat."
At this moment a man could be seen walking up with a large sack on his
shoulders. Arriving on top, he threw down his load, breathing in the
pure, fresh air.
Opening the cover, the doctor said: "This has come for you from
Frankfurt, Heidi. Come and look what is in it."
Heidi timidly watched the heap, and only when the gentleman opened the
box with the cakes for the grandmother she said joyfully: "Oh, now
grandmother can eat this lovely cake." She was taking the box and the
beautiful shawl on her arm and was going to race down to deliver the
gifts, when the men persuaded her to stay and unpack the rest. What
was her delight at finding the tobacco and all the other things. The
men had been talking together, when the child suddenly planted herself
in front of them and said: "These things have not given me as much
pleasure as the dear doctor's coming." Both men smiled.
When it was near sunset, the doctor rose to start on his way down. The
grandfather, carrying the box, the shawl and the sausage, and the
guest holding the little girl by the hand, they wandered down the
mountain-side. When they reached Peter's hut, Heidi was told to go
inside and wait for her grandfather there. At parting she asked:
"Would you like to come with me up to the pasture to-morrow, doctor?"
"With pleasure. Good-bye, Heidi," was the reply. The grandfather had
deposited all the presents before the door, and it took Heidi long to
carry in the huge box and the sausage. The shawl she put on the
grandmother's knee.
Brigida had silently watched the proceedings, and could not open her
eyes wide enough when she saw the enormous sausage. Never in her life
had she seen the like, and now she really possessed it and could cut
it herself.
"Oh grandmother, don't the cakes please you awfully? Just look how
soft they are!" the child exclaimed. What was her amazement when she
saw the grandmother more pleased with the shawl, which would keep her
warm in winter.
"Grandmother, Clara has sent you that," Heidi said.
"Oh, what kind good people they are to think of a poor old woman like
me! I never thought I should ever own such a splendid wrap."
At this moment Peter came stumbling in.
"The uncle is coming up behind me, and Heidi must--" that was as far
as he got, for his eyes had fastened on the sausage. Heidi, however,
had already said good-bye, for she knew what he had meant. Though her
uncle never went by the hut any more without stepping in, she knew it
was too late to-day. "Heidi, come, you must get your sleep," he called
through the open door. Bidding them all good-night, he took Heidi by
the hand and under the glistening stars they wandered home to their
peaceful cottage.
[Illustration]
XVII
RETALIATION
Early the next morning the doctor climbed up the mountain in company
with Peter and his goats. The friendly gentleman made several attempts
to start a conversation with the boy, but as answer to his questions
he got nothing more than monosyllables. When they arrived on top, they
found Heidi already waiting, fresh and rosy as the early dawn.
"Are you coming?" asked Peter as usual.
"Of course I shall, if the doctor comes with us," replied the child.
The grandfather, coming out of the hut, greeted the newcomer with
great respect. Then he went up to Peter, and hung on his shoulder the
sack, which seemed to contain more than usual that day.
When they had started on their way, Heidi kept urging forward the
goats, which were crowding about her. When at last she was walking
peacefully by the doctor's side, she began to relate to him many
things about the goats and all their strange pranks, and about the
flowers, rocks and birds they saw. When they arrived at their
destination, time seemed to have flown. Peter all the time was sending
many an angry glance at the unconscious doctor, who never even noticed
it.
Heidi now took the doctor to her favorite spot. From there they could
hear the peaceful-sounding bells of the grazing cattle below. The sky
was deep blue, and above their heads the eagle was circling with
outstretched wings. Everything was luminous and bright about them, but
the doctor had been silent. Suddenly looking up, he beheld Heidi's
radiant eyes.
"Heidi, it is beautiful up here," he said. "But how can anybody with a
heavy heart enjoy the beauty? Tell me!"
"Oh," exclaimed Heidi, "one never has a sad heart here. One only gets
unhappy in Frankfurt."
A faint smile passed over the doctor's face. Then he began: "But if
somebody has brought his sorrow away with him, how would you comfort
him?"
"God in Heaven alone can help him."
"That is true, child," remarked the doctor. "But what can we do when
God Himself has sent us the affliction?"
After meditating a moment, Heidi replied: "One must wait patiently,
for God knows how to turn the saddest things to something happy in the
end. God will show us what He has meant to do for us. But He will only
do so if we pray to Him patiently."
"I hope you will always keep this beautiful belief, Heidi," said the
doctor. Then looking up at the mighty cliffs above, he continued:
"Think how sad it would make us not to be able to see all these
beautiful things. Wouldn't that make us doubly sad? Can you understand
me, child?"
A great pain shot through Heidi's breast. She had to think of the poor
grandmother. Her blindness was always a great sorrow to the child, and
she had been struck with it anew. Seriously she replied:
"Oh yes, I can understand it. But then we can read grandmother's
songs; they make us happy and bright again."
"Which songs, Heidi?"
"Oh, those of the sun, and of the beautiful garden, and then the last
verses of the long one. Grandmother loves them so that I always have
to read them over three times," said Heidi.
"I wish you would say them to me, child, for I should like to hear
them," said the doctor.
Heidi, folding her hands, began the consoling verses. She stopped
suddenly, however, for the doctor did not seem to listen. He was
sitting motionless, holding his hand before his eyes. Thinking that he
had fallen asleep, she remained silent. But the verses had recalled
his childhood days; he seemed to hear his mother and see her loving
eyes, for when he was a little boy she had sung this song to him. A
long time he sat there, till he discovered that Heidi was watching
him.
"Heidi, your song was lovely," he said with a more joyful voice. "We
must come here another day and then you can recite it to me again."
During all this time Peter had been boiling with anger. Now that Heidi
had come again to the pasture with him, she did nothing but talk to
the old gentleman. It made him very cross that he was not even able to
get near her. Standing a little distance behind Heidi's friend, he
shook his fist at him, and soon afterwards both fists, finally raising
them up to the sky, as Heidi and the doctor remained together.
When the sun stood in its zenith and Peter knew that it was noon, he
called over to them with all his might: "Time to eat."
When Heidi was getting up to fetch their dinner, the doctor just asked
for a glass of milk, which was all he wanted. The child also decided
to make the milk her sole repast, running over to Peter and informing
him of their resolution.
When the boy found that the whole contents of the bag was his, he
hurried with his task as never in his life before. But he felt guilty
on account of his former anger at the kind gentleman. To show his
repentance he held his hands up flat to the sky, indicating by his
action that his fists did not mean anything any more. Only after that
did he start with his feast.
Heidi and the doctor had wandered about the pasture till the gentleman
had found it time to go. He wanted Heidi to remain where she was, but
she insisted on accompanying him. All the way down she showed him many
places where the pretty mountain flowers grew, all of whose names she
could tell him. When they parted at last, Heidi waved to him. From
time to time he turned about, and seeing the child still standing
there, he had to think of his own little daughter who used to wave to
him like that when he went away from home.
The weather was warm and sunny that month. Every morning the doctor
came up to the Alp, spending his day very often with the old man. Many
a climb they had together that took them far up, to the bare cliffs
near the eagle's haunt. The uncle would show his guest all the herbs
that grew on hidden places and were strengthening and healing. He
could tell many strange things of the beasts that lived in holes in
rock or earth, or in the high tops of trees.
In the evening they would part, and the doctor would exclaim: "My dear
friend, I never leave you without having learned something."
But most of his days he spent with Heidi. Then the two would sit
together on the child's favorite spot, and Peter, quite subdued,
behind them. Heidi had to recite the verses, as she had done the first
day, and entertain him with all the things she knew.
At last the beautiful month of September was over. One morning the
doctor came up with a sadder face than usual. The time had come for
him to go back to Frankfurt, and great was the uncle's sadness at that
news. Heidi herself could hardly realize that her loving friend, whom
she had been seeing every day, was really leaving. The doctor himself
was loath to go, for the Alp had become as a home to him. But it was
necessary for him to go, and shaking hands with the grandfather, he
said good-bye, Heidi going along with him a little way.
Hand in hand they wandered down, till the doctor stood still. Then
caressing Heidi's curly hair, he said: "Now I must go, Heidi! I wish I
could take you along with me to Frankfurt; then I could keep you."
At those words, all the rows and rows of houses and streets, Miss
Rottenmeier and Tinette rose before Heidi's eyes. Hesitating a little,
she said: "I should like it better if you would come to see us again."
"I believe that will be better. Now farewell!" said the friendly
gentleman. When they shook hands his eyes filled with tears. Turning
quickly he hurried off.
Heidi, standing on the same spot, looked after him. What kind eyes he
had! But they had been full of tears. All of a sudden she began to cry
bitterly, and ran after her friend, calling with all her might, but
interrupted by her sobs:
"Oh doctor, doctor!"
Looking round he stood still and waited till the child had reached
him. Her tears came rolling down her cheeks while she sobbed: "I'll
come with you to Frankfurt and I'll stay as long as ever you want me
to. But first I must see grandfather."
"No, no, dear child," he said affectionately, "not at once. You must
remain here, I don't want you to get ill again. But if I should get
sick and lonely and ask you to come to me, would you come and stay
with me? Can I go away and think that somebody in this world still
cares for me and loves me?"
"Yes, I shall come to you the same day, for I really love you as much
as grandfather," Heidi assured him, crying all the time.
Shaking hands again, they parted. Heidi stayed on the same spot,
waving her hand and looking after her departing friend till he seemed
no bigger than a little dot. Then he looked back a last time at Heidi
and the sunny Alp, muttering to himself: "It is beautiful up there.
Body and soul get strengthened in that place and life seems worth
living again."
[Illustration]
XVIII
WINTER IN THE VILLAGE
The snow lay so deep around the Alm-hut that the windows seemed to
stand level with the ground and the house-door had entirely
disappeared. Round Peter's hut it was the same. When the boy went out
to shovel the snow, he had to creep through the window; then he would
sink deep into the soft snow and kick with arms and legs to get free.
Taking a broom, the boy would have to clear away the snow from the
door to prevent its falling into the hut.
The uncle had kept his word; when the first snow had fallen, he had
moved down to the village with Heidi and his goats. Near the church
and the parish house lay an old ruin that once had been a spacious
building. A brave soldier had lived there in days gone by; he had
fought in the Spanish war, and coming back with many riches, had
built himself a splendid house. But having lived too long in the noisy
world to be able to stand the monotonous life in the little town, he
soon went away, never to come back. After his death, many years later,
though the house was already beginning to decay, a distant relation of
his took possession of it. The new proprietor did not want to build it
up again, so poor people moved in. They had to pay little rent for the
house, which was gradually crumbling and falling to pieces. Years ago,
when the uncle had come to the village with Tobias, he had lived
there. Most of the time it had been empty, for the winter lasted long,
and cold winds would blow through the chinks in the walls. When poor
people lived there, their candles would be blown out and they would
shiver with cold in the dark. But the uncle, had known how to help
himself. In the fall, as soon as he had resolved to live in the
village, he came down frequently, fitting up the place as best he
could.
On approaching the house from the back, one entered an open room,
where nearly all the walls lay in ruins. On one side the remains of a
chapel could be seen, now covered with the thickest ivy. A large hall
came next, with a beautiful stone floor and grass growing in the
crevices. Most of the walls were gone and part of the ceiling also. If
a few thick pillars had not been left supporting the rest, it would
undoubtedly have tumbled down. The uncle had made a wooden partition
here for the goats, and covered the floor with straw. Several
corridors, most of them half decayed, led finally to a chamber with a
heavy iron door. This room was still in good condition and had dark
wood panelling on the four firm walls. In one corner was an enormous
stove, which nearly reached up to the ceiling. On the white tiles were
painted blue pictures of old towers surrounded by high trees, and of
hunters with their hounds. There also was a scene with a quiet lake,
where, under shady oak-trees, a fisherman was sitting. Around the
stove a bench was placed. Heidi loved to sit there, and as soon as she
had entered their new abode, she began to examine the pictures.
Arriving at the end of the bench, she discovered a bed, which was
placed between the wall and the stove. "Oh grandfather, I have found
my bed-room," exclaimed the little girl. "Oh, how fine it is! Where
are you going to sleep?"
"Your bed must be near the stove, to keep you warm," said the old man.
"Now come and look at mine."
With that the grandfather led her into his bed-room. From there a door
led into the hugest kitchen Heidi had ever seen. With a great deal of
trouble the grandfather had fitted up this place. Many boards were
nailed across the walls and the door had been fastened with heavy
wires, for beyond, the building lay in ruins. Thick underbrush was
growing there, sheltering thousands of insects and lizards. Heidi was
delighted with her new home, and when Peter arrived next day, she did
not rest till he had seen every nook and corner of the curious
dwelling-place.
Heidi slept very well in her chimney corner, but it took her many days
to get accustomed to it. When she woke up in the morning and could not
hear the fir-trees roar, she would wonder where she was. Was the snow
too heavy on the branches? Was she away from home? But as soon as she
heard her grandfather's voice outside, she remembered everything and
would jump merrily out of bed.
After four days had gone by, Heidi said to her grandfather: "I must go
to grandmother now, she has been alone so many days."
But the grandfather shook his head and said: "You can't go yet, child.
The snow is fathoms deep up there and is still falling. Peter can
hardly get through. A little girl like you would be snowed up and lost
in no time. Wait a while till it freezes and then you can walk on top
of the crust."
Heidi was very sorry, but she was so busy now that the days flew by.
Every morning and afternoon she went to school, eagerly learning
whatever was taught her. She hardly ever saw Peter there, for he did
not come very often. The mild teacher would only say from time to
time: "It seems to me, Peter is not here again! School would do him
good, but I guess there is too much snow for him to get through." But
when Heidi came home towards evening, Peter generally paid her a
visit.
After a few days the sun came out for a short time at noon, and the
next morning the whole Alp glistened and shone like crystal. When
Peter was jumping as usual into the snow that morning, he fell against
something hard, and before he could stop himself he flew a little way
down the mountain. When he had gained his feet at last, he stamped
upon the ground with all his might. It really was frozen as hard as
stone. Peter could hardly believe it, and quickly running up and
swallowing his milk, and putting his bread in his pocket, he
announced: "I must go to school to-day!"
"Yes, go and learn nicely," answered his mother.
Then, sitting down on his sled, the boy coasted down the mountain like
a shot. Not being able to stop his course when he reached the village,
he coasted down further and further, till he arrived in the plain,
where the sled stopped of itself. It was already late for school, so
the boy took his time and only arrived in the village when Heidi came
home for dinner.
"We've got it!" announced the boy, on entering.
"What, general?" asked the uncle.
"The snow," Peter replied.
"Oh, now I can go up to grandmother!" Heidi rejoiced. "But Peter, why
didn't you come to school? You could coast down to-day," she continued
reproachfully.
"I went too far on my sled and then it was too late," Peter replied.
"I call that deserting!" said the uncle. "People who do that must
have their ears pulled; do you hear?"
The boy was frightened, for there was no one in the world whom he
respected more than the uncle.
"A general like you ought to be doubly ashamed to do so," the uncle
went on. "What would you do with the goats if they did not obey you
any more?"
"Beat them," was the reply.
"If you knew of a boy that was behaving like a disobedient goat and
had to get spanked, what would you say?"
"Serves him right."
"So now you know it, goat-general: if you miss school again, when you
ought to be there, you can come to me and get your due."
Now at last Peter understood what the uncle had meant. More kindly,
the old man then turned to Peter and said, "Come to the table now and
eat with us. Then you can go up with Heidi, and when you bring her
back at night, you can get your supper here."
This unexpected change delighted Peter. Not losing any time, he soon
disposed of his full plate. Heidi, who had given the boy most of her
dinner, was already putting on Clara's new coat. Then together they
climbed up, Heidi chatting all the time. But Peter did not say a
single word. He was preoccupied and had not even listened to Heidi's
tales. Before they entered the hut, the boy said stubbornly: "I think
I had rather go to school than get a beating from the uncle." Heidi
promptly confirmed him in his resolution.
When they went into the room, Peter's mother was alone at the table
mending. The grandmother was nowhere to be seen. Brigida now told
Heidi that the grandmother was obliged to stay in bed on those cold
days, as she did not feel very strong. That was something new for
Heidi. Quickly running to the old woman's chamber, she found her lying
in a narrow bed, wrapped up in her grey shawl and thin blanket.
"Thank Heaven!" the grandmother exclaimed when she heard her
darling's step. All autumn and winter long a secret fear had been
gnawing at her heart, that Heidi would be sent for by the strange
gentleman of whom Peter had told her so much. Heidi had approached the
bed, asking anxiously: "Are you very sick, grandmother?"
"No, no, child," the old woman reassured her, "the frost has just gone
into my limbs a little."
"Are you going to be well again as soon as the warm weather comes?"
inquired Heidi.
"Yes, yes, and if God wills, even sooner. I want to go back to my
spinning-wheel and I nearly tried it to-day. I'll get up to-morrow,
though," the grandmother said confidently, for she had noticed how
frightened Heidi was.
The last speech made the child feel more happy. Then, looking
wonderingly at the grandmother, she said: "In Frankfurt people put on
a shawl when they go out. Why are you putting it on in bed,
grandmother?"
"I put it on to keep me warm, Heidi. I am glad to have it, for my
blanket is very thin."
"But, grandmother, your bed is slanting down at your head, where it
ought to be high. No bed ought to be like that."
"I know, child, I can feel it well." So saying, the old woman tried to
change her position on the pillow that lay under her like a thin
board. "My pillow never was very thick, and sleeping on it all these
years has made it flat."
"Oh dear, if I had only asked Clara to give me the bed I had in
Frankfurt!" Heidi lamented. "It had three big pillows on it; I could
hardly sleep because I kept sliding down from them all the time. Could
you sleep with them, grandmother?"
"Of course, because that would keep me warm. I could breathe so much
easier, too," said the grandmother, trying to find a higher place to
lie on. "But I must not talk about it any more, for I have to be
thankful for many things. I get the lovely roll every day and have
this beautiful warm shawl. I also have you, my child! Heidi, wouldn't
you like to read me something to-day?"
Heidi immediately fetched the book and read one song after another.
The grandmother in the meantime was lying with folded hands; her face,
which had been so sad a short time ago, was lit up with a happy smile.
Suddenly Heidi stopped.
"Are you well again, grandmother?" she asked.
"I feel very much better, Heidi. Please finish the song, will you?"
The child obeyed, and when she came to the last words,
When mine eyes grow dim and sad,
Let Thy love more brightly burn,
That my soul, a wanderer glad,
Safely homeward may return.
"Safely homeward may return!" she exclaimed: "Oh, grandmother, I know
what it is like to come home." After a while she said: "It is getting
dark, grandmother, I must go home now. I am glad that you feel
better again."
[Illustration: THE TWO CHILDREN WERE ALREADY FLYING DOWN THE ALP]
The grandmother, holding the child's hand in hers, said: "Yes, I am
happy again, though I have to stay in bed. Nobody knows how hard it is
to lie here alone, day after day. I do not hear a word from anybody
and cannot see a ray of sunlight. I have very sad thoughts sometimes,
and often I feel as if I could not bear it any longer. But when I can
hear those blessed songs that you have read to me, it makes me feel as
if a light was shining into my heart, giving me the purest joy."
Shaking hands, the child now said good-night, and pulling Peter with
her, ran outside. The brilliant moon was shining down on the white
snow, light as day. The two children were already flying down the Alp,
like birds soaring through the air.
After Heidi had gone to bed that night, she lay awake a little while,
thinking over everything the grandmother had said, especially about
the joy the songs had given her. If only poor grandmother could hear
those comforting words every day! Heidi knew that it might be a week
or two again before she could repeat her visit. The child became very
sad when she thought how uncomfortable and lonely the old woman would
be. Was there no way for help? Suddenly Heidi had an idea, and it
thrilled her so that she felt as if she could not wait till morning
came to put her plan in execution. But in her excitement she had
forgotten her evening prayer, so sitting up in bed, she prayed
fervently to God. Then, falling back into the fragrant hay, she soon
slept peacefully and soundly still the bright morning came.
[Illustration]
XIX
WINTER STILL CONTINUES
Peter arrived punctually at school next day. He had brought his lunch
with him in a bag, for all the children that came from far away ate in
school, while the others went home. In the evening Peter as usual paid
his visit to Heidi.
The minute he opened the door she ran up to him, saying: "Peter, I
have to tell you something."
"Say it," he replied.
"You must learn to read now," said the child.
"I have done it already."
"Yes, yes, Peter, but I don't mean it that way," Heidi eagerly
proceeded; "you must learn so that you really know how afterwards."
"I can't," Peter remarked.
"Nobody believes you about that any more, and I won't either," Heidi
said resolutely. "When I was in Frankfurt, grandmama told me that it
wasn't true and that I shouldn't believe you."
Peter's astonishment was great.
"I'll teach you, for I know how; when you have learnt it, you must
read one or two songs to grandmother every day."
"I shan't!" grumbled the boy.
This obstinate refusal made Heidi very angry. With flaming eyes she
planted herself before the boy and said: "I'll tell you what will
happen, if you don't want to learn. Your mother has often said that
she'll send you to Frankfurt. Clara showed me the terrible, large
boys' school there, where you'll have to go. You must stay there till
you are a man, Peter! You mustn't think that there is only one teacher
there, and such a kind one as we have here. No, indeed! There are
whole rows of them, and when they are out walking they have high
black hats on their heads. I saw them myself, when I was out driving!"
Cold shivers ran down Peter's back.
"Yes, you'll have to go there, and when they find out that you can't
read or even spell, they'll laugh at you!"
"I'll do it," said Peter, half angry and half frightened.
"Oh, I am glad. Let us start right away!" said Heidi joyfully, pulling
Peter over to the table. Among the things that Clara had sent, Heidi
had found a little book with the A,B,C and some rhymes. She had chosen
this for the lessons. Peter, having to spell the first rhyme, found
great difficulty, so Heidi said, "I'll read it to you, and then you'll
be able to do it better. Listen:
"If A, B, C you do not know,
Before the school board you must go."
"I won't go," said Peter stubbornly.
"Where?"
"Before the court."
"Hurry up and learn the three letters, then you won't have to!"
Peter, beginning again, repeated the three letters till Heidi said:
"Now you know them."
Having observed the good result of the first rhyme, she began to read
again:
D, E, F you then must read,
Or of misfortune take good heed!
If H,I,J,K are forgot,
Adversity is on the spot
Who over L and M doth stumble,
Must pay a penance and feel humble.
There's trouble coming; if you knew,
You'd quickly learn N, O, P, Q.
If still you halt on R, S, T,
You'll suffer for it speedily.
Heidi, stopping, looked at Peter, who was so frightened by all these
threats and mysterious horrors that he sat as still as a mouse.
Heidi's tender heart was touched, and she said comfortingly: "Don't be
afraid, Peter; if you come to me every day, you'll soon learn all the
letters and then those things won't happen. But come every day, even
when it snows. Promise!"
Peter did so, and departed. Obeying Heidi's instructions, he came
daily to her for his lesson.
Sometimes the grandfather would sit in the room, smoking his pipe;
often the corners of his mouth would twitch as if he could hardly keep
from laughing.
He generally invited Peter to stay to supper afterwards, which
liberally rewarded the boy for all his great exertions.
Thus the days passed by. In all this time Peter had really made some
progress, though the rhymes still gave him difficulty.
When they had come to U, Heidi read:
Whoever mixes U and V,
Will go where he won't want to be!
and further,
If W you still ignore,
Look at the rod beside the door.
Often Peter would growl and object to those measures, but nevertheless
he kept on learning, and soon had but three letters left.
The next few days the following rhymes, with their threats, made Peter
more eager than ever.
If you the letter X forget
For you no supper will be set.
If you still hesitate with Y,
For shame you'll run away and cry.
When Heidi read the last,
And he who makes his Z with blots,
Must journey to the Hottentots,
Peter sneered: "Nobody even knows where they are!"
"I am sure grandfather does," Heidi retorted, jumping up. "Just wait
one minute and I shall ask him. He is over with the parson," and with
that she had opened the door.
"Wait!" shrieked Peter in great alarm, for he saw himself already
transported to those dreadful people. "What is the matter with you?"
said Heidi, standing still.
"Nothing, but stay here. I'll learn," he blubbered. But Heidi,
wanting to know something about the Hottentots herself, could only be
kept back by piteous screams from Peter. So at last they settled down
again, and before it was time to go, Peter knew the last letter, and
had even begun to read syllables. From this day on he progressed more
quickly.
It was three weeks since Heidi had paid her last visit to the
grandmother, for much snow had fallen since. One evening, Peter,
coming home, said triumphantly:
"I can do it!"
"What is it you can do, Peter?" asked his mother, eagerly.
"Read."
"What, is it possible? Did you hear it, grandmother?" exclaimed
Brigida.
The grandmother also was curious to learn how this had happened.
"I must read a song now; Heidi told me to," Peter continued. To the
women's amazement, Peter began. After every verse his mother would
exclaim, "Who would have ever thought it!" while the grandmother
remained silent.
One day later, when it happened that it was Peter's turn to read in
school, the teacher said:
"Peter, must I pass you by again, as usual? Or do you want to try--I
shall not say to read, but to stammer through a line?"
Peter began and read three lines without stopping.
In dumb astonishment, the teacher, putting down his book, looked at
the boy.
"What miracle has happened to you?" he exclaimed. "For a long time I
tried to teach you with all my patience, and you were not even able to
grasp the letters, but now that I had given you up as hopeless, you
have not only learnt how to spell, but even to read. How did this
happen, Peter?"
"It was Heidi," the boy replied.
In great amazement, the teacher looked at the little girl. Then the
kind man continued:
"I have noticed a great change in you, Peter. You used to stay away
from school, sometimes more than a week, and lately you have not even
missed a day. Who has brought about this change?"
"The uncle."
Every evening now Peter on his return home read one song to his
grandmother, but never more. To the frequent praises of Brigida, the
old woman once replied: "I am glad he has learnt something, but
nevertheless I am longing for the spring to come. Then Heidi can visit
me, for when she reads, the verses sound so different. I cannot always
follow Peter, and the songs don't thrill me the way they do when Heidi
says them!"
And no wonder! For Peter would often leave out long and difficult
words,--what did three or four words matter! So it happened sometimes
that there were hardly any nouns left in the hymns that Peter read.
XX
NEWS FROM DISTANT FRIENDS
May had come. Warm sunshine was bathing the whole Alp in glorious
light, and having melted the last snow, had brought the first spring
flowers to the surface. A merry spring wind was blowing, drying up the
damp places in the shadow. High above in the azure heaven the eagle
floated peacefully.
Heidi and her grandfather were back on the Alp. The child was so happy
to be home again that she jumped about among the beloved objects. Here
she discovered a new spring bud, and there she watched the gay little
gnats and beetles that were swarming in the sun.
The grandfather was busy in his little shop, and a sound of hammering
and sawing could be heard. Heidi had to go and see what the
grandfather was making. There before the door stood a neat new chair,
while the old man was busy making a second.
"Oh, I know what they are for," said Heidi gaily. "You are making them
for Clara and grandmama. Oh, but we need a third--or do you think that
Miss Rottenmeier won't come, perhaps?"
"I really don't know," said grandfather: "but it is safer to have a
chair for her, if she should come."
Heidi, thoughtfully looking at the backless chairs, remarked:
"Grandfather, I don't think she would sit down on those."
"Then we must invite her to sit down on the beautiful green lounge of
grass," quietly answered the old man.
While Heidi was still wondering what the grandfather had meant, Peter
arrived, whistling and calling. As usual, Heidi was soon surrounded by
the goats, who also seemed happy to be back on the Alp. Peter, angrily
pushing the goats aside, marched up to Heidi, thrusting a letter into
her hand.
"Did you get a letter for me on the pasture?" Heidi said, astonished.
"No."
"Where did it come from?"
"From my bag."
The letter had been given to Peter the previous evening; putting it in
his lunch-bag, the boy had forgotten it there till he opened the bag
for his dinner. Heidi immediately recognized Clara's handwriting, and
bounding over to her grandfather, exclaimed: "A letter has come from
Clara. Wouldn't you like me to read it to you, grandfather?"
Heidi immediately read to her two listeners, as follows:--
DEAR HEIDI:--
We are all packed up and shall travel in two or three days. Papa
is leaving, too, but not with us, for he has to go to Paris
first. The dear doctor visits us now every day, and as soon as
he opens the door, he calls, 'Away to the Alp!' for he can
hardly wait for us to go. If you only knew how he enjoyed being
with you last fall! He came nearly every day this winter to tell
us all about you and the grandfather and the mountains and the
flowers he saw. He said that it was so quiet in the pure,
delicious air, away from towns and streets, that everybody has
to get well there. He is much better himself since his visit,
and seems younger and happier. Oh, how I look forward to it all!
The doctor's advice is, that I shall go to Ragatz first for
about six weeks, then I can go to live in the village, and from
there I shall come to see you every fine day. Grandmama, who is
coming with me, is looking forward to the trip too. But just
think, Miss Rottenmeier does not want to go. When grandmama
urges her, she always declines politely. I think Sebastian must
have given her such a terrible description of the high rocks and
fearful abysses, that she is afraid. I think he told her that it
was not safe for anybody, and that only goats could climb such
dreadful heights. She used to be so eager to go to Switzerland,
but now neither Tinette nor she wants to take the risk. I can
hardly wait to see you again!
Good-bye, dear Heidi, with much love from grandmama,
I am your true friend,
CLARA.
When Peter heard this, he swung his rod to right and left. Furiously
driving the goats before him, he bounded down the hill.
Heidi visited the grandmother next day, for she had to tell her the
good news. Sitting up in her corner, the old woman was spinning as
usual. Her face looked sad, for Peter had already announced the near
visit of Heidi's friends, and she dreaded the result.
After having poured out her full heart, Heidi looked at the old woman.
"What is it, grandmother?" said the child. "Are you not glad?"
"Oh yes, Heidi, I am glad, because you are happy."
"But, grandmother, you seem so anxious. Do you still think Miss
Rottenmeier is coming?"
"Oh no, it is nothing. Give me your hand, for I want to be sure that
you are still here. I suppose it will be for the best, even if I shall
not live to see the day!"
"Oh, but then I would not care about this coming," said the child.
The grandmother had hardly slept all night for thinking of Clara's
coming. Would they take Heidi away from her, now that she was well and
strong? But for the sake of the child she resolved to be brave.
"Heidi," she said, "please read me the song that begins with 'God will
see to it.'"
Heidi immediately did as she was told; she knew nearly all the
grandmother's favorite hymns by now and always found them quickly.
"That does me good, child," the old woman said. Already the expression
of her face seemed happier and less troubled. "Please read it a few
times over, child," she entreated.
Thus evening came, and when Heidi wandered homewards, one twinkling
star after another appeared in the sky. Heidi stood still every few
minutes, looking up to the firmament in wonder. When she arrived home,
her grandfather also was looking up to the stars, murmuring to
himself: "What a wonderful month!--one day clearer than the other.
The herbs will be fine and strong this year."
The blossom month had passed, and June, with the long, long days, had
come. Quantities of flowers were blooming everywhere, filling the air
with perfume. The month was nearing its end, when one morning Heidi
came running out of the hut, where she had already completed her
duties. Suddenly she screamed so loud that the grandfather hurriedly
came out to see what had happened.
"Grandfather! Come here! Look, look!"
A strange procession was winding up the Alm. First marched two men,
carrying an open sedan chair with a young girl in it, wrapped up in
many shawls. Then came a stately lady on horseback, who, talking with
a young guide beside her, looked eagerly right and left. Then an empty
rolling-chair, carried by a young fellow, was followed by a porter who
had so many covers, shawls and furs piled up on his basket that they
towered high above his head.
"They are coming! they are coming!" cried Heidi in her joy, and soon
the party had arrived at the top. Great was the happiness of the
children at seeing each other again. When grandmama had descended from
her horse, she tenderly greeted Heidi first, and then turned to the
uncle, who had approached the group. The two met like two old friends,
they had heard so much about each other.
After the first words were exchanged, the grandmother exclaimed: "My
dear uncle, what a wonderful residence you have. Who would have ever
thought it! Kings could envy you here! Oh, how well my Heidi is
looking, just like a little rose!" she continued, drawing the child
closely to her side and patting her cheeks. "What glory everywhere!
Clara, what do you say to it all?"
Clara, looking about her rapturously, cried: "Oh, how wonderful, how
glorious! I have never dreamt it could be as beautiful as that. Oh
grandmama, I wish I could stay here!"
The uncle had busied himself in the meantime with getting Clara's
rolling-chair for her. Then, going up to the girl, he gently lifted
her into her seat. Putting some covers over her knees, he tucked her
feet in warmly. It seemed as if the grandfather had done nothing else
all his life than nurse lame people.
"My dear uncle," said the grandmama, surprised, "please tell me where
you learned that, for I shall send all the nurses I know here
immediately."
The uncle smiled faintly, while he replied: "It comes more from care
than study."
His face became sad. Before his eyes had risen bygone times. For that
was the way he used to care for his poor wounded captain, whom he had
found in Sicily after a violent battle. He alone had been allowed to
nurse him till his death, and now he would take just as good care of
poor, lame Clara.
When Clara had looked a long time at the cloudless sky above and all
the rocky crags, she said longingly: "I wish I could walk round the
hut to the fir-trees. If I only could see all the things you told me
so much about!"
Heidi pushed with all her might, and behold! the chair rolled easily
over the dry grass. When they had come into the little grove, Clara
could not see her fill of those splendid trees that must have stood
there so many, many years. Although the people had changed and
vanished, they had remained the same, ever looking down into the
valley.
When they passed the empty goat-shed, Clara said pitifully: "Oh
grandmama, if I could only wait up here for Schwänli and Bärli! I am
afraid I shan't see Peter and his goats, if we have to go away so soon
again."
"Dear child, enjoy now what you can," said the grandmama, who had
followed.
"Oh, what wonderful flowers!" exclaimed Clara again; "whole bushes of
exquisite, red blossoms. Oh, if I could only pick some of those
bluebells!"
Heidi, immediately gathering a large bunch, put them in Clara's lap.
"Clara, this is really nothing in comparison with the many flowers in
the pasture. You must come up once and see them. There are so many
that the ground seems golden with them. If you ever sit down among
them, you will feel as if you could never get up any more, it is so
beautiful."
"Oh, grandmama, do you think I can ever go up there?" Clara asked with
a wild longing in her eyes. "If I could only walk with you, Heidi, and
climb round everywhere!"
"I'll push you!" Heidi said for comfort. To show how easy it was, she
pushed the chair at such a rate that it would have tumbled down the
mountain, if the grandfather had not stopped it at the last moment.
It was time for dinner now. The table was spread near the bench, and
soon everybody sat down. The grandmother was so overcome by the view
and the delicious wind that fanned her cheek that she remarked: "What
a wondrous place this is! I have never seen its like! But what do I
see?" she continued. "I think you are actually eating your second
piece of cheese, Clara?"
"Oh grandmama, it tastes better than all the things we get in Ragatz,"
replied the child, eagerly eating the savory dish.
"Don't stop, our mountain wind helps along where the cooking is
faulty!" contentedly said the old man.
During the meal the uncle and the grandmama had soon got into a lively
conversation. They seemed to agree on many things, and understood each
other like old friends. A little later the grandmama looked over to
the west.
"We must soon start, Clara, for the sun is already low; our guides
will be here shortly."
Clara's face had become sad, and she entreated: "Oh, please let us
stay here another hour or so. We haven't even seen the hut yet. I wish
the day were twice as long."
The grandmama assented to Clara's wish to go inside. When the
rolling-chair was found too broad for the door, the uncle quietly
lifted Clara in his strong arms and carried her in. Grandmama was
eagerly looking about her, glad to see everything so neat. Then going
up the little ladder to the hay-loft, she discovered Heidi's bed. "Is
that your bed, Heidi? What a delicious perfume! It must be a healthy
place to sleep," she said, looking out through the window. The
grandfather, with Clara, was coming up, too, with Heidi following.
Clara was perfectly entranced. "What a lovely place to sleep! Oh,
Heidi, you can look right up to the sky from your bed. What a good
smell! You can hear the fir-trees roar here, can't you? Oh, I never
saw a more delightful bed-room!"
The uncle, looking at the old lady, said now: "I have an idea that it
would give Clara new strength to stay up here with us a little while.
Of course, I only mean if you did not object. You have brought so many
wraps that we can easily make a soft bed for Clara here. My dear lady,
you can easily leave the care to me. I'll undertake it gladly."
The children screamed for joy, and grandmama's face was beaming.
"What a fine man you are!" she burst out. "I was just thinking myself
that a stay here would strengthen the child, but then I thought of the
care and trouble for you. And now you have offered to do it, as if it
was nothing at all. How can I thank you enough, uncle?"
After shaking hands many times, the two prepared Clara's bed, which,
thanks to the old lady's precautions, was soon so soft that the hay
could not be felt through at all.
The uncle had carried his new patient back to her rolling-chair, and
there they found her sitting, with Heidi beside her. They were eagerly
talking of their plans for the coming weeks. When they were told that
Clara might stay for a month or so, their faces beamed more than ever.
The guide, with the horse, and the carriers of the chair, now
appeared, but the last two were not needed any more and could be sent
away.
When the grandmother got ready to leave, Clara called gaily to her:
"Oh grandmama, it won't be long, for you must often come and see us."
While the uncle was leading the horse down the steep incline, the
grandmama told him that she would go back to Ragatz, for the Dörfli
was too lonely for her. She also promised to come back from time to
time.
Before the grandfather had returned, Peter came racing down to the hut
with all his goats. Seeing Heidi, they ran up to her in haste, and so
Clara made the acquaintance of Schwänli and Bärli and all the others.
Peter, however, kept away, only sending furious looks at the two
girls. When they bade him good-night, he only ran away, beating the
air with his stick.
The end of the joyous day had come. The two children were both lying
in their beds.
"Oh, Heidi!" Clara exclaimed, "I can see so many glittering stars, and
I feel as if we were driving in a high carriage straight into the
sky."
"Yes, and do you know why the stars twinkle so merrily?" inquired
Heidi.
"No, but tell me."
"Because they know that God in heaven looks after us mortals and we
never need to fear. See, they twinkle and show us how to be merry,
too. But Clara, we must not forget to pray to God and ask Him to think
of us and keep us safe."
Sitting up in bed, they then said their evening prayer. As soon as
Heidi lay down, she fell asleep. But Clara could not sleep quite yet,
it was too wonderful to see the stars from her bed.
In truth she had never seen them before, because in Frankfurt all the
blinds were always down long before the stars came out, and at night
she had never been outside the house. She could hardly keep her eyes
shut, and had to open them again and again to watch the twinkling,
glistening stars, till her eyes closed at last and she saw two big,
glittering stars in her dream.
XXI
OF FURTHER EVENTS ON THE ALP
The sun was just rising, and the Alm-Uncle was watching how mountain
and dale awoke to the new day, and the clouds above grew brighter.
Next, the old man turned to go back into the hut, and softly climbed
the ladder. Clara, having just a moment ago opened her eyes, looked
about her in amazement. Bright sunbeams danced on her bed. Where was
she? But soon she discovered her sleeping friend, and heard the
grandfather's cheery voice:
"How did you sleep? Not tired?"
Clara, feeling fresh and rested, said that she had never slept better
in all her life. Heidi was soon awake, too, and lost no time in coming
down to join Clara, who was already sitting in the sun.
A cool morning breeze fanned their cheeks, and the spicy fragrance
from the fir-trees filled their lungs with every breath. Clara had
never experienced such well-being in all her life. She had never
breathed such pure, cool morning air and never felt such warm,
delicious sunshine on her feet and hands. It surpassed all her
expectations.
"Oh, Heidi, I wish I could always stay up here with you!" she said.
"Now you can see that everything is as beautiful as I told you," Heidi
replied triumphantly. "Up on the Alp with grandfather is the loveliest
spot in all the world."
The grandfather was just coming out of the shed with two full bowls of
steaming, snow-white milk. Handing one to each of the children, he
said to Clara: "This will do you good, little girl. It comes from
Schwänli and will give you strength. To your health! Just drink it!"
he said encouragingly, for Clara had hesitated a little. But when she
saw that Heidi's bowl was nearly empty already, she also drank
without even stopping. Oh, how good it was! It tasted like cinnamon
and sugar.
"We'll take two tomorrow," said the grandfather.
After their breakfast, Peter arrived. While the goats were rushing up
to Heidi, bleating loudly, the grandfather took the boy aside.
"Just listen, and do what I tell you," he said. "From now on you must
let Schwänli go wherever she likes. She knows where to get the richest
herbs, and you must follow her, even if she should go higher up than
usual. It won't do you any harm to climb a little more, and will do
all the others good. I want the goats to give me splendid milk,
remember. What are you looking at so furiously?"
Peter was silent, and without more ado started off, still angrily
looking back now and then. As Heidi had followed a little way, Peter
called to her: "You must come along, Heidi, Schwänli has to be
followed everywhere."
"No, but I can't," Heidi called back: "I won't be able to come as
long as Clara is with me. Grandfather has promised, though, to let us
come up with you once."
With those words Heidi returned to Clara, while the goatherd was
hurrying onward, angrily shaking his fists.
The children had promised to write a letter to grandmama every day, so
they immediately started on their task. Heidi brought out her own
little three-legged stool, her school-books and her papers, and with
these on Clara's lap they began to write. Clara stopped after nearly
every sentence, for she had to look around. Oh, how peaceful it was
with the little gnats dancing in the sun and the rustling of the
trees! From time to time they could hear the shouting of a shepherd
re-echoed from many rocks.
The morning had passed, they knew not how, and dinner was ready. They
again ate outside, for Clara had to be in the open air all day, if
possible. The afternoon was spent in the cool shadow of the fir-trees.
Clara had many things to relate of Frankfurt and all the people that
Heidi knew. It was not long before Peter arrived with his flock, but
without even answering the girls' friendly greeting, he disappeared
with a grim scowl.
While Schwänli was being milked in the shed, Clara said:
"Oh, Heidi, I feel as if I could not wait for my milk. Isn't it funny?
All my life I have only eaten because I had to. Everything always
tasted to me like cod-liver oil, and I have often wished that I should
never have to eat. And now I am so hungry!"
"Oh yes, I know," Heidi replied. She had to think of the days in
Frankfurt when her food seemed to stick in her throat.
When at last the full bowls were brought by the old man, Clara,
seizing hers, eagerly drank the contents in one draught and even
finished before Heidi.
"Please, may I have a little more?" she asked, holding out the bowl.
Nodding, much pleased, the grandfather soon refilled it. This time he
also brought with him a slice of bread and butter for the children.
He had gone to Maiensass that afternoon to get the butter, and his
trouble was well rewarded: they enjoyed it as if it had been the
rarest dish.
This evening Clara fell asleep the moment she lay down. Two or three
days passed in this pleasant way. The next brought a surprise. Two
strong porters came up the Alp, each carrying on his back a fresh,
white bed. They also brought a letter from grandmama, in which she
thanked the children for their faithful writing, and told them that
the beds were meant for them. When they went to sleep that night, they
found their new beds in exactly the same position as their former ones
had been.
Clara's rapture in her new life grew greater every day, and she could
not write enough of the grandfather's kindly care and of Heidi's
entertaining stories. She told her grandmama that her first thought in
the morning always was: "Thank God, I am still in the Alm-hut."
Grandmama was highly pleased at those reports, and put her projected
visit off a little while, for she had found the ride pretty tiring.
The grandfather took excellent care of his little patient, and no day
passed on which he did not climb around to find the most savory herbs
for Schwänli. The little goat thrived so that everybody could see it
in the way her eyes were flashing.
It was the third week of Clara's stay. Every morning after the
grandfather had carried her down, he said to her: "Would my Clara try
to stand a little?" Clara always sighed, "Oh, it hurts me so!" but
though she would cling to him, he made her stand a little longer every
day.
This summer was the finest that had been for years. Day after day the
sun shone on a cloudless sky, and at night it would pour its purple,
rosy light down on the rocks and snow-fields till everything seemed to
glow like fire.
Heidi had told Clara over and over again of all the flowers on the
pasture, of the masses of golden roses and the blue-flowers that
covered the ground. She had just been telling it again, when a longing
seized her, and jumping up she ran over to her grandfather, who was
busy carving in the shop.
"Oh, grandfather," she cried from afar, "won't you come with us to the
pasture tomorrow? Oh, it's so beautiful up there now."
"All right, I will," he replied; "but tell Clara that she must do
something to please me; she must try to stand longer this evening for
me."
Heidi merrily came running with her message. Of course, Clara
promised, for was it not her greatest wish to go up with Heidi to the
pasture! When Peter returned this evening, he heard of the plan for
the morrow. But for answer Peter only growled, nearly hitting poor
Thistlefinch in his anger.
The children had just resolved to stay awake all night to talk about
the coming day, when their conversation suddenly ceased and they were
both peacefully slumbering. In her dreams Clara saw before her a field
that was thickly strewn with light-blue flowers, while Heidi heard the
eagle scream to her from above, "Come, come, come!"
XXII
SOMETHING UNEXPECTED HAPPENS
The next day dawned cloudless and fair. The grandfather was still with
the children, when Peter came climbing up; his goats kept at a good
distance from him, to evade the rod, which was striking right and
left. The truth was that the boy was terribly embittered and angry by
the changes that had come. When he passed the hut in the morning,
Heidi was always busy with the strange child, and in the evening it
was the same. All summer long Heidi had not been up with him a single
time; it was too much! And to-day she was coming at last, but again in
company with this hateful stranger.
[Illustration: HE WATCHED HIS FALLEN ENEMY TUMBLING DOWNWARDS,
DOWNWARDS]
It was then that Peter noticed the rolling-chair standing near the
hut. After carefully glancing about him, he rushed at the hated
object and pushed it down the incline. The chair fairly flew away and
had soon disappeared.
Peter's conscience smote him now, and he raced up the Alp, not daring
to pause till he had reached a blackberry bush. There he could hide,
when the uncle might appear. Looking down, he watched his fallen enemy
tumbling downwards, downwards.
Sometimes it was thrown high up into the air, to crash down again the
next moment harder than ever. Pieces were falling from it right and
left, and were blown about. Now the stranger would have to travel home
and Heidi would be his again! But Peter had forgotten that a bad deed
always brings a punishment.
Heidi just now came out of the hut. The grandfather, with Clara,
followed. Heidi at first stood still, and then, running right and
left, she returned to the old man.
"What does this mean? Have you rolled the chair away Heidi?" he
asked.
"I am just looking for it everywhere, grandfather. You said it was
beside the shop door," said the child, still hunting for the missing
object. A strong wind was blowing, which at this moment violently
closed the shop-door.
"Grandfather, the wind has done it," exclaimed Heidi eagerly. "Oh
dear! if it has rolled all the way down to the village, it will be too
late to go to-day. It will take us a long time to fetch it."
"If it has rolled down there, we shall never get it any more, for it
will be smashed to pieces," said the old man, looking down and
measuring the distance from the corner of the hut.
"I don't see how it happened," he remarked.
"What a shame! now I'll never be able to go up to the pasture,"
lamented Clara. "I am afraid I'll have to go home now. What a pity,
what a pity!"
"You can find a way for her to stay, grandfather, can't you?"
"We'll go up to the pasture to-day, as we have planned. Then we shall
see what further happens."
The children were delighted, and the grandfather lost no time in
getting ready. First he fetched a pile of covers, and seating Clara on
a sunny spot on the dry ground, he got their breakfast.
"I wonder why Peter is so late to-day," he said, leading his goats out
of the shed. Then, lifting Clara up on one strong arm, he carried the
covers on the other.
"Now, march!" he cried. "The goats come with us."
That suited Heidi, and with one arm round Schwänli and the other round
Bärli, she wandered up. Her little companions were so pleased at
having her with them again that they nearly crushed her with
affection.
What was their astonishment when, arriving on top, they saw Peter
already lying on the ground, with his peaceful flock about him.
"What did you mean by going by us like that? I'll teach you!" called
the uncle to him.
Peter was frightened, for he knew the voice.
"Nobody was up yet," the boy retorted.
"Have you seen the chair?" asked the uncle again.
"Which?" Peter growled.
The uncle said no more. Unfolding the covers, he put Clara down on the
dry grass. Then, when he had been assured of Clara's comfort, he got
ready to go home. The three were to stay there till his return in the
evening. When dinner time had come, Heidi was to prepare the meal and
see that Clara got Schwänli's milk.
The sky was a deep blue, and the snow on the peaks was glistening. The
eagle was floating above the rocky crags. The children felt
wonderfully happy. Now and then one of the goats would come and lie
down near them. Tender little Snowhopper came oftener than any and
would rub her head against their shoulders.
They had been sitting quietly for a few hours, drinking in the beauty
about them, when Heidi suddenly began to long for the spot where so
many flowers grew. In the evening it would be too late to see them,
for they always shut their little eyes by then.
"Oh, Clara," she said hesitatingly, "would you be angry if I went away
from you a minute and left you alone? I want to see the flowers; But
wait!--" Jumping away, she brought Clara some bunches of fragrant
herbs and put them in her lap. Soon after she returned with little
Snowhopper.
"So, now you don't need to be alone," said Heidi. When Clara had
assured her that it would give her pleasure to be left alone with the
goats, Heidi started on her walk. Clara slowly handed one leaf after
another to the little creature; it became more and more confiding, and
cuddling close to the child, ate the herbs out of her hand. It was
easy to see how happy it was to be away from the boisterous big goats,
which often annoyed it. Clara felt a sensation of contentment such as
she had never before experienced. She loved to sit there on the
mountain-side with the confiding little goat by her. A great desire
rose in her heart that hour. She longed to be her own master and be
able to help others instead of being helped by them. Many other
thoughts and ideas rushed through her mind. How would it be to live up
here in continual sunshine? The world seemed so joyous and wonderful
all of a sudden. Premonitions of future undreamt-of happiness made her
heart beat. Suddenly she threw both arms about the little goat and
said: "Oh, little Snowhopper how beautiful it is up here! If I could
always stay with you!"
Heidi in the meantime had reached the spot, where, as she had
expected, the whole ground was covered with yellow rock-roses. Near
together in patches the bluebells were nodding gently in the breeze.
But all the perfume that filled the air came from the modest little
brown flowers that hid their heads between the golden flower-cups.
Heidi stood enraptured, drawing in the perfumed air.
Suddenly she turned and ran back to Clara, shouting to her from far:
"Oh, you must come, Clara, it is so lovely there. In the evening it
won't be so fine any more. Don't you think I could carry you?"
"But Heidi," Clara said, "of course you can't; you are much smaller
than I am. Oh, I wish I could walk!"
Heidi meditated a little. Peter was still lying on the ground. He had
been staring down for hours, unable to believe what he saw before him.
He had destroyed the chair to get rid of the stranger, and there she
was again, sitting right beside his playmate.
Heidi now called to him to come down, but as reply he only grumbled:
"Shan't come."
"But you must; come quickly, for I want you to help me. Quickly!"
urged the child.
"Don't want to," sounded the reply.
Heidi hurried up the mountain now and shouted angrily to the boy:
"Peter, if you don't come this minute, I shall do something that you
won't like."
Those words scared Peter, for his conscience was not clear. His deed
had rejoiced him till this moment, when Heidi seemed to talk as if she
knew it all. What if the grandfather should hear about it! Trembling
with fear, Peter obeyed.
"I shall only come if you promise not to do what you said," insisted
the boy.
"No, no, I won't. Don't be afraid," said Heidi compassionately: "Just
come along; it isn't so hard."
Peter, on approaching Clara, was told to help raise the lame child
from the ground on one side, while Heidi helped on the other. This
went easily enough, but difficulties soon followed. Clara was not able
to stand alone, and how could they get any further?
"You must take me round the neck," said Heidi, who had seen what poor
guides they made.
The boy, who had never offered his arm to anybody in his life, had to
be shown how first, before further efforts could be made. But it was
too hard. Clara tried to set her feet forward, but got discouraged.
"Press your feet on the ground more and I am sure it will hurt you
less," suggested Heidi.
"Do you think so?" said Clara, timidly.
But, obeying, she ventured a firmer step and soon another, uttering a
little cry as she went.
"Oh, it really has hurt me less," she said joyfully.
"Try it again," Heidi urged her. Clara did, and took another step, and
then another, and another still. Suddenly she cried aloud: "Oh, Heidi,
I can do it. Oh, I really can. Just look! I can take steps, one after
another."
Heidi rapturously exclaimed: "Oh, Clara, can you really? Can you walk?
Oh, can you take steps now? Oh, if only grandfather would come! Now
you can walk, Clara, now you can walk," she kept on saying joyfully.
Clara held on tight to the children, but with every new step she
became more firm.
"Now you can come up here every day," cried Heidi. "Now we can walk
wherever we want to and you don't have to be pushed in a chair any
more. Now you'll be able to walk all your life. Oh, what joy!"
Clara's greatest wish, to be able to be well like other people, had
been fulfilled at last. It was not very far to the flowering field.
Soon they reached it and sat down among the wealth of bloom. It was
the first time that Clara had ever rested on the dry, warm earth. All
about them the flowers nodded and exhaled their perfume. It was a
scene of exquisite beauty.
The two children could hardly grasp this happiness that had come to
them. It filled their hearts brimming full and made them silent. Peter
also lay motionless, for he had gone to sleep.
Thus the hours flew, and the day was long past noon. Suddenly all the
goats arrived, for they had been seeking the children. They did not
like to graze in the flowers, and were glad when Peter awoke with
their loud bleating. The poor boy was mightily bewildered, for he had
dreamt that the rolling-chair with the red cushions stood again before
his eyes. On awaking, he had still seen the golden nails; but soon he
discovered that they were nothing but flowers. Remembering his deed,
he obeyed Heidi's instructions willingly.
When they came back to their former place, Heidi lost no time in
setting out the dinner. The bag was very full to-day, and Heidi
hurried to fulfill her promise to Peter, who with bad conscience had
understood her threat differently. She made three heaps of the good
things, and when Clara and she were through, there was still a lot
left for the boy. It was too bad that all this treat did not give him
the usual satisfaction, for something seemed to stick in his throat.
Soon after their belated dinner, the grandfather was seen climbing up
the Alp. Heidi ran to meet him, confusedly telling him of the great
event. The old man's face shone at this news. Going over to Clara, he
said: "So you have risked it? Now we have won."
Then picking her up, he put one arm around her waist, and the other
one he stretched out as support, and with his help she marched more
firmly than ever. Heidi jumped and bounded gaily by their side. In all
this excitement the grandfather did not lose his judgment, and before
long lifted Clara on his arm to carry her home. He knew that too much
exertion would be dangerous, and rest was needed for the tired girl.
Peter, arriving in the village late that day, saw a large disputing
crowd. They were all standing about an interesting object, and
everybody pushed and fought for a chance to get nearest. It was no
other than the chair.
"I saw it when they carried it up," Peter heard the baker say. "I bet
it was worth at least five hundred francs. I should just like to know
how it has happened."
"The wind might have blown it down," remarked Barbara, who was staring
open-mouthed at the beautiful velvet cushions. "The uncle said so
himself."
"It is a good thing if nobody else has done it," continued the baker.
"When the gentleman from Frankfurt hears what has happened, he'll
surely find out all about it, and I should pity the culprit. I am glad
I haven't been up on the Alm for so long, else they might suspect me,
as they would anybody who happened to be up there at the time."
Many more opinions were uttered, but Peter had heard enough. He
quietly slipped away and went home. What if they should find out he
had done it? A policeman might arrive any time now and they might take
him away to prison. Peter's hair stood up on end at this alarming
thought.
He was so troubled when he came home that he did not answer any
questions and even refused his dish of potatoes. Hurriedly creeping
into bed, he groaned.
"I am sure Peter has eaten sorrel again, and that makes him groan so,"
said his mother.
"You must give him a little more bread in the morning, Brigida. Take a
piece of mine," said the compassionate grandmother.
When Clara and Heidi were lying in their beds that night, glancing up
at the shining stars, Heidi remarked: "Didn't you think to-day, Clara,
that it is fortunate God does not always give us what we pray for
fervently, because He knows of something better?"
"What do you mean, Heidi?" asked Clara.
"You see, when I was in Frankfurt I prayed and prayed to come home
again, and when I couldn't, I thought He had forgotten me. But if I
had gone away so soon you would never have come here and would never
have got well."
Clara, becoming thoughtful, said: "But, Heidi, then we could not pray
for anything any more, because we would feel that He always knows of
something better."
"But, Clara, we must pray to God every day to show we don't forget
that all gifts come from Him. Grandmama has told me that God forgets
us if we forget Him. But if some wish remains unfulfilled we must show
our confidence in Him, for he knows best."
"How did you ever think of that?" asked Clara.
"Grandmama told me, but I know that it is so. We must thank God to-day
that He has made you able to walk, Clara."
"I am glad that you have reminded me, Heidi, for I have nearly
forgotten it in my excitement."
The children both prayed and sent their thanks up to heaven for the
restoration of the invalid.
Next morning a letter was written to grandmama, inviting her to come
up to the Alp within a week's time, for the children had planned to
take her by surprise. Clara hoped then to be able to walk alone, with
Heidi for her guide.
The following days were happier still for Clara. Every morning she
awoke with her heart singing over and over again, "Now I am well! Now
I can walk like other people!"
She progressed, and took longer walks every day. Her appetite grew
amazingly, and the grandfather had to make larger slices of the bread
and butter that, to his delight, disappeared so rapidly. He had to
fill bowl after bowl of the foaming milk for the hungry children. In
that way they reached the end of the week that was to bring the
grandmama.
[Illustration]
XXIII
PARTING TO MEET AGAIN
A day before her visit the grandmama had sent a letter to announce her
coming. Peter brought it up with him next morning. The grandfather was
already before the hut with the children and his merry goats. His face
looked proud, as he contemplated the rosy faces of the girls and the
shining hair of his two goats.
Peter, approaching, neared the uncle slowly. As soon as he had
delivered the letter, he sprang back shyly, looking about him as if he
was afraid. Then with a leap he started off.
"I should like to know why Peter behaves like the Big Turk when he is
afraid of the rod," said Heidi, watching his strange behavior.
"Maybe Peter fears a rod that he deserves," said the old man.
All the way Peter was tormented with fear. He could not help thinking
of the policeman who was coming from Frankfurt to fetch him to prison.
It was a busy morning for Heidi, who put the hut in order for the
expected visitor. The time went by quickly, and soon everything was
ready to welcome the good grandmama.
The grandfather also returned from a walk, on which he had gathered a
glorious bunch of deep-blue gentians. The children, who were sitting
on the bench, exclaimed for joy when they saw the glowing flowers.
Heidi, getting up from time to time to spy down the path, suddenly
discovered grandmama, sitting on a white horse and accompanied by two
men. One of them carried plenty of wraps, for without those the lady
did not dare to pay such a visit.
The party came nearer and nearer, and soon reached the top.
"What do I see? Clara, what is this? Why are you not sitting in your
chair? How is this possible?" cried the grandmama in alarm,
dismounting hastily. Before she had quite reached the children she
threw her arms up in great excitement:
"Clara, is that really you? You have red, round cheeks, my child! I
hardly know you any more!" Grandmama was going to rush at her
grandchild, when Heidi slipped from the bench, and Clara, taking her
arm, they quietly took a little walk. The grandmama was rooted to the
spot from fear. What was this? Upright and firm, Clara walked beside
her friend. When they came back their rosy faces beamed. Rushing
toward the children, the grandmother hugged them over and over again.
Looking over to the bench, she beheld the uncle, who sat there
smiling. Taking Clara's arm in hers, she walked over to him,
continually venting her delight. When she reached the old man, she
took both his hands in hers and said:
"My dear, dear uncle! What have we to thank you for! This is your
work, your care and nursing--"
"But our Lord's sunshine and mountain air," interrupted the uncle,
smiling.
Then Clara called, "Yes, and also Schwänli's good, delicious milk.
Grandmama, you ought to see how much goat-milk I can drink now; oh, it
is so good!"
"Indeed I can see that from your cheeks," said the grandmama, smiling.
"No, I hardly recognize you any more. You have become broad and round!
I never dreamt that you could get so stout and tall! Oh, Clara, is it
really true? I cannot look at you enough. But now I must telegraph
your father to come. I shan't tell him anything about you, for it will
be the greatest joy of all his life. My dear uncle, how are we going
to manage it? Have you sent the men away?"
"I have, but I can easily send the goatherd."
So they decided that Peter should take the message. The uncle
immediately whistled so loud that it resounded from all sides. Soon
Peter arrived, white with fear, for he thought his doom had come. But
he only received a paper that was to be carried to the post-office of
the village.
Relieved for the moment, Peter set out. Now all the happy friends sat
down round the table, and grandmama was told how the miracle had
happened. Often the talk was interrupted by exclamations of surprise
from grandmama, who still believed it was all a dream. How could this
be her pale, weak little Clara? The children were in a constant state
of joy, to see how their surprise had worked.
Meanwhile Mr. Sesemann, having finished his business in Paris, was
also preparing a surprise. Without writing his mother he traveled to
Ragatz on a sunny summer morning. He had arrived on this very day,
some hours after his mother's departure, and now, taking a carriage,
he drove to Mayenfeld.
The long ascent to the Alp from there seemed very weary and far to
the traveller. When would he reach the goat-herd's hut? There were
many little roads branching off in several directions, and sometimes
Mr. Sesemann doubted if he had taken the right path. But not a soul
was near, and no sound could be heard except the rustling of the wind
and the hum of little insects. A merry little bird was singing on a
larch-tree, but nothing more.
Standing still and cooling his brow, he saw a boy running down the
hill at topmost speed. Mr. Sesemann called to him, but with no
success, for the boy kept at a shy distance.
"Now, my boy, can't you tell me if I am on the right path to the hut
where Heidi lives and the people from Frankfurt are staying?"
A dull sound of terror was the only reply. Peter shot off and rushed
head over heels down the mountain-side, turning wild somersaults on
his perilous way. His course resembled the course his enemy had taken
some days ago.
[Illustration: PETER SHOT OFF AND RUSHED DOWN THE MOUNTAIN-SIDE,
TURNING WILD SOMERSAULTS ON HIS PERILOUS WAY]
"What a funny, bashful mountaineer!" Mr. Sesemann remarked to himself,
thinking that the appearance of a stranger had upset this simple son
of the Alps. After watching the downward course of the boy a little
while, he soon proceeded on his way.
In spite of the greatest effort, Peter could not stop himself, and
kept rolling on. But his fright and terror were still more terrible
than his bumps and blows. This stranger was the policeman, that was a
certain fact! At last, being thrown against a bush, he clutched it
wildly.
"Good, here's another one!" a voice near Peter said. "I wonder who is
going to be pushed down tomorrow, looking like a half-open
potato-bag?" The village baker was making fun of him. For a little
rest after his weary work, he had quietly watched the boy.
Peter regained his feet and slunk away. How did the baker know the
chair had been pushed? He longed to go home to bed and hide, for there
alone he felt safe. But he had to go up to the goats, and the uncle
had clearly told him to come back as quickly as he could. Groaning, he
limped away up to the Alp. How could he run now, with his fear and all
his poor, sore limbs?
Mr. Sesemann had reached the hut soon after meeting Peter, and felt
reassured. Climbing further, with renewed courage, he at last saw his
goal before him, but not without long and weary exertion. He saw the
Alm-hut above him, and the swaying fir-trees. Mr. Sesemann eagerly
hurried to encounter his beloved child. They had seen him long ago
from the hut, and a treat was prepared for him that he never
suspected.
As he made the last steps, he saw two forms coming towards him. A tall
girl, with light hair and rosy face, was leaning on Heidi, whose dark
eyes sparkled with keen delight. Mr. Sesemann stopped short, staring
at this vision. Suddenly big tears rushed from his eyes, for this
shape before him recalled sweet memories. Clara's mother had looked
exactly like this fair maiden. Mr. Sesemann at this moment did not
know if he was awake or dreaming.
"Papa, don't you know me any more?" Clara called with beaming eyes.
"Have I changed so much?"
Mr. Sesemann rushed up to her, folding her in his arms. "Yes, you
_have_ changed. How is it possible? Is it really true? Is it really
you, Clara?" asked the over-joyed father, embracing her again and
again, and then gazing at her, as she stood tall and firm by his side.
His mother joined them now, for she wanted to see the happiness of her
son.
"What do you say to this, my son? Isn't our surprise finer than
yours?" she greeted him. "But come over to our benefactor now,--I mean
the uncle."
"Yes, indeed, I also must greet our little Heidi," said the gentleman,
shaking Heidi's hand. "Well? Always fresh and happy on the mountain? I
guess I don't need to ask, for no Alpine rose can look more blooming.
Ah, child, what joy this is to me!"
With beaming eyes the child looked at the kind gentleman who had
always been so good to her. Her heart throbbed in sympathy with his
joy. While the two men, who had at last approached each other, were
conversing, grandmama walked over to the grove. There, under the
fir-trees, another surprise awaited her. A beautiful bunch of
wondrously blue gentians stood as if they had grown there.
"How exquisite, how wonderful! What a sight!" she exclaimed, clapping
her hands. "Heidi, come here! Have you brought me those? Oh, they are
beautiful!"
The children had joined her, Heidi assuring her that it was another
person's deed.
"Oh grandmama, up on the pasture it looks just like that," Clara
remarked. "Just guess who brought you the flowers?"
At that moment a rustle was heard, and they saw Peter, who was trying
to sneak up behind the trees to avoid the hut. Immediately the old
lady called to him, for she thought that Peter himself had picked the
flowers for her. He must be creeping away out of sheer modesty, the
kind lady thought. To give him his reward, she called:
"Come here, my boy! don't be afraid."
Petrified with fear, Peter stood still. What had gone before had
robbed him of his courage. He thought now that all was over with him.
With his hair standing up on end and his pale face distorted by
anguish, he approached.
"Come straight to me, boy," the old lady encouraged him. "Now tell me,
boy, if you have done that."
In his anxiety, Peter did not see the grandmama's finger that pointed
to the flowers. He only saw the uncle standing near the hut, looking
at him penetratingly, and beside him the policeman, the greatest
horror for him in the world. Trembling in every limb, Peter answered,
"Yes!"
"Well, but what are you so frightened about?"
"Because--because it is broken and can never be mended again," Peter
said, his knees tottering under him.
The grandmama now walked over to the hut: "My dear uncle," she asked
kindly, "is this poor lad out of his mind?"
"Not at all," was the reply; "only the boy was the wind which blew
away the wheel-chair. He is expecting the punishment he well
deserves."
Grandmama was very much surprised, for she vowed that Peter looked far
from wicked. Why should he have destroyed the chair? The uncle told
her that he had noticed many signs of anger in the boy since Clara's
advent on the Alp. He assured her that he had suspected the boy from
the beginning.
"My dear uncle," the old lady said with animation, "we must not punish
him further. We must be just. It was very hard on him when Clara
robbed him of Heidi, who is and was his greatest treasure. When he had
to sit alone day after day, it roused him to a passion which drove him
to this wicked deed. It was rather foolish, but we all get so when we
get angry."
The lady walked over to the boy again, who was still quivering with
fear.
Sitting down on the bench, she began:
"Come, Peter, I'll tell you something. Stop trembling and listen. You
pushed the chair down, to destroy it. You knew very well that it was
wicked and deserved punishment. You tried very hard to conceal it, did
you not? But if somebody thinks that nobody knows about a wicked deed,
he is wrong; God always knows it. As soon as He finds that a man is
trying to conceal an evil he has done, He wakens a little watchman in
his heart, who keeps on pricking the person with a thorn till all his
rest is gone. He keeps on calling to the evildoer: 'Now you'll be
found out! Now your punishment is near!'--His joy has flown, for fear
and terror take its place. Have you not just had such an experience,
Peter?"
Peter nodded, all contrite. He certainly had experienced this.
"You have made a mistake," the grandmama continued, "by thinking that
you would hurt Clara by destroying her chair. It has so happened that
what you have done has been the greatest good for her. She would
probably never have tried to walk, if her chair had been there. If she
should stay here, she might even go up to the pasture every single
day. Do you see, Peter? God can turn a misdeed to the good of the
injured person and bring trouble on the offender. Have you understood
me, Peter? Remember the little watchman when you long to do a wicked
deed again. Will you do that?"
"Yes, I shall," Peter replied, still fearing the policeman, who had
not left yet.
"So now that matter is all settled," said the old lady in conclusion.
"Now tell me if you have a wish, my boy, for I am going to give you
something by which to remember your friends from Frankfurt. What is
it? What would you like to have?"
Peter, lifting his head, stared at the grandmama with round,
astonished eyes. He was confused by this sudden change of prospect.
Being again urged to utter a wish, he saw at last that he was saved
from the power of the terrible man. He felt as if the most crushing
load had fallen off him. He knew now that it was better to confess at
once, when something had gone wrong, so he said: "I have also lost the
paper."
Reflecting a while, the grandmama understood and said: "That is right.
Always confess what is wrong, then it can be settled. And now, what
would you like to have?"
So Peter could choose everything in the world he wished. His brain got
dizzy. He saw before him all the wonderful things in the fair in
Mayenfeld. He had often stood there for hours, looking at the pretty
red whistles and the little knives; unfortunately Peter had never
possessed more than half what those objects cost.
He stood thinking, not able to decide, when a bright thought struck
him.
"Ten pennies," said Peter with decision.
"That certainly is not too much," the old lady said with a smile,
taking out of her pocket a big, round thaler, on top of which she
laid twenty pennies. "Now I'll explain this to you. Here you have as
many times ten pennies as there are weeks in the year. You'll be able
to spend one every Sunday through the year."
"All my life?" Peter asked quite innocently.
The grandmama began to laugh so heartily at this that the two men came
over to join her.
Laughingly she said: "You shall have it my boy; I will put it in my
will and then you will do the same, my son. Listen! Peter the goatherd
shall have a ten-penny piece weekly as long as he lives."
Mr. Sesemann nodded.
Peter, looking at his gift, said solemnly: "God be thanked!" Jumping
and bounding, he ran away. His heart was so light that he felt he
could fly.
A little later the whole party sat round the table holding a merry
feast. After dinner, Clara, who was lively as never before, said to
her father:
"Oh, Papa, if you only knew all the things grandfather did for me. It
would take many days to tell you; I shall never forget them all my
life. Oh, if we could please him only half as much as what he did for
me."
"It is my greatest wish, too, dear child," said her father; "I have
been trying to think of something all the time. We have to show our
gratitude in some way."
Accordingly Mr. Sesemann walked over to the old man, and began: "My
dear friend, may I say one word to you. I am sure you believe me when
I tell you that I have not known any real joy for years. What was my
wealth to me when I could not cure my child and make her happy! With
the help of the Lord you have made her well. You have given her a new
life. Please tell me how to show my gratitude to you. I know I shall
never be able to repay you, but what is in my power I shall do. Have
you any request to make? Please let me know."
The uncle had listened quietly and had looked at the happy father.
"Mr. Sesemann, you can be sure that I also am repaid by the great joy
I experience at the recovery of Clara," said the uncle firmly. "I
thank you for your kind offer, Mr. Sesemann. As long as I live I have
enough for me and the child. But I have one wish. If this could be
fulfilled, my life would be free of care."
"Speak, my dear friend," urged Clara's father.
"I am old," continued the uncle, "and shall not live many years. When
I die I cannot leave Heidi anything. The child has no relations except
one, who even might try to take advantage of her if she could. If you
would give me the assurance, Mr. Sesemann, that Heidi will never be
obliged to go into the world and earn her bread, you would amply repay
me for what I was able to do for you and Clara."
"My dear friend, there is no question of that," began Mr. Sesemann;
"the child belongs to us! I promise at once that we shall look after
her so that there will not be any need of her ever earning her bread.
We all know that she is not fashioned for a life among strangers.
Nevertheless, she has made some true friends, and one of them will be
here very shortly. Dr. Classen is just now completing his last
business in Frankfurt. He intends to take your advice and live here.
He has never felt so happy as with you and Heidi. The child will have
two protectors near her, and I hope with God's will, that they may be
spared a long, long time."
"And may it be God's will!" added the grandmama, who with Heidi had
joined them, shaking the uncle tenderly by the hand. Putting her arms
around the child, she said: "Heidi, I want to know if you also have a
wish?"
"Yes indeed, I have," said Heidi, pleased.
"Tell me what it is, child!"
"I should like to have my bed from Frankfurt with the three high
pillows and the thick, warm cover. Then grandmother will be able to
keep warm and won't have to wear her shawl in bed. Oh, I'll be so
happy when she won't have to lie with her head lower than her heels,
hardly able to breathe!"
Heidi had said all this in one breath, she was so eager.
"Oh dear, I had nearly forgotten what I meant to do. I am so glad you
have reminded me, Heidi. If God sends us happiness we must think of
those who have many privations. I shall telegraph immediately for the
bed, and if Miss Rottenmeier sends it off at once, it can be here in
two days. I hope the poor blind grandmother will sleep better when it
comes."
Heidi, in her happiness, could hardly wait to bring the old woman the
good news. Soon it was resolved that everybody should visit the
grandmother, who had been left alone so long. Before starting,
however, Mr. Sesemann revealed his plans. He proposed to travel
through Switzerland with his mother and Clara. He would spend the
night in the village, so as to fetch Clara from the Alm next morning
for the journey. From there they would go first to Ragatz and then
further. The telegram was to be mailed that night.
Clara's feelings were divided, for she was sorry to leave the Alp, but
the prospect of the trip delighted her.
When everything was settled, they all went down, the uncle carrying
Clara, who could not have risked the lengthy walk. All the way down
Heidi told the old lady of her friends in the hut; the cold they had
to bear in winter and the little food they had.
Brigida was just hanging up Peter's shirt to dry, when the whole
company arrived. Rushing into the house, she called to her mother:
"Now they are all going away. Uncle is going, too, carrying the lame
child."
"Oh, must it really be?" sighed the grandmother. "Have you seen
whether they took Heidi away? Oh, if she only could give me her hand
once more! Oh, I long to hear her voice once more!"
The same moment the door was flung open and Heidi held her tight.
"Grandmother, just think. My bed with the three pillows and the thick
cover is coming from Frankfurt. Grandmama has said that it will be
here in two days."
Heidi thought that grandmother would be beside herself with joy, but
the old woman, smiling sadly, said:
"Oh, what a good lady she must be! I know I ought to be glad she is
taking you with her, Heidi, but I don't think I shall survive it
long."
"But nobody has said so," the grandmama, who had overheard those
words, said kindly. Pressing the old woman's hand, she continued: "It
is out of the question. Heidi will stay with you and make you happy.
To see Heidi again, we will come up every year to the Alm, for we have
many reasons to thank the Lord there."
Immediately the face of the grandmother lighted up, and she cried
tears of joy.
"Oh, what wonderful things God is doing for me!" said the grandmother,
deeply touched. "How good people are to trouble themselves about such
a poor old woman as I. Nothing in this world strengthens the belief in
a good Father in Heaven more than this mercy and kindness shown to a
poor, useless little woman, like me."
"My dear grandmother," said Mrs. Sesemann, "before God in Heaven we
are all equally miserable and poor; woe to us, if He should forget
us!--But now we must say good-bye; next year we shall come to see you
just as soon as we come up the Alp. We shall never forget you!" With
that, Mrs. Sesemann shook her hand. It was some time before she was
allowed to leave, however, because the grandmother thanked her over
and over again, and invoked all Heaven's blessings on her and her
house.
Mr. Sesemann and his mother went on down, while Clara was carried up
to spend her last night in the hut.
Next morning, Clara shed hot tears at parting from the beloved place,
where such gladness had been hers. Heidi consoled her with plans for
the coming summer, that was to be even more happy than this one had
been. Mr. Sesemann then arrived, and a few last parting words were
exchanged.
Clara, half crying, suddenly said: "Please give my love to Peter and
the goats, Heidi! Please greet Schwänli especially from me, for she
has helped a great deal in making me well. What could I give her?"
"You can send her salt, Clara. You know how fond she is of that,"
advised little Heidi.
"Oh, I will surely do that," Clara assented. "I'll send her a hundred
pounds of salt as a remembrance from me."
It was time to go now, and Clara was able to ride proudly beside her
father. Standing on the edge of the slope, Heidi waved her hand, her
eyes following Clara till she had disappeared.
* * * * *
The bed has arrived. Grandmother sleeps so well every night now, that
before long she will be stronger than ever. Grandmama has not
forgotten the cold winter on the Alp and has sent a great many warm
covers and shawls to the goatherd's hut. Grandmother can wrap herself
up now and will not have to sit shivering in a corner.
In the village a large building is in progress. The doctor has arrived
and is living at present in his old quarters. He has taken the uncle's
advice and has bought the old ruins that sheltered Heidi and her
grandfather the winter before. He is rebuilding for himself the
portion with the fine apartment already mentioned. The other side is
being prepared for Heidi and her grandfather. The doctor knows that
his friend is an independent man and likes to have his own dwelling.
Bärli and Schwänli, of course, are not forgotten; they will spend the
winter in a good solid stable that is being built for them.
The doctor and the Alm-Uncle become better friends every day. When
they overlook the progress of the building, they generally come to
speak of Heidi. They both look forward to the time when they will be
able to move into the house with their merry charge. They have agreed
to share together the pleasure and responsibility that Heidi brings
them. The uncle's heart is filled with gratitude too deep for any
words when the doctor tells him that he will make ample provision for
the child. Now her grandfather's heart is free of care, for if he is
called away, another father will take care of Heidi and love her in
his stead.
At the moment when our story closes, Heidi and Peter are sitting in
grandmother's hut. The little girl has so many interesting things to
relate and Peter is trying so hard not to miss anything, that in their
eagerness they are not aware that they are near the happy
grandmother's chair. All summer long they have hardly met, and very
many wonderful things have happened. They are all glad at being
together again, and it is hard to tell who is the happiest of the
group. I think Brigida's face is more radiant than any, for Heidi has
just told her the story of the perpetual ten-penny piece. Finally the
grandmother says: "Heidi, please read me a song of thanksgiving and
praise. I feel that I must praise and thank the Lord for the blessings
He has brought to us all!"
The End.
[Illustration: (Heidi)]
[Illustration: (Peter)]
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| Typographical errors corrected in text: |
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