Books: Heidi

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20

Heidi put her hands together and sat collecting her thoughts for
a second or two: "Shall I begin at the verse that grandmother
says gives her a feeling of hope and confidence?"

The doctor nodded his assent, and Heidi began,--

Let not your heart be troubled
Nor fear your soul dismay,
There is a wise Defender
And He will be your stay.
Where you have failed, He conquers,
See, how the foeman flies!
And all your tribulation
Is turned to glad surprise.

If for a while it seemeth
His mercy is withdrawn,
That He no longer careth
For His wandering child forlorn,
Doubt not His great compassion,
His love can never tire,
To those who wait in patience
He gives their heart's desire.

Heidi suddenly paused; she was not sure if the doctor was still
listening. He was sitting motionless with his hand before his
eyes. She thought he had fallen asleep; when he awoke, if he
wanted to hear more verses, she would go on. There was no sound
anywhere. The doctor sat in silence, but he was certainly not
asleep. His thoughts had carried him back to a long past time:
he saw himself as a little boy standing by his dear mother's
chair; she had her arm round his neck and was saying the very
verses to him that Heidi had just recited--words which he had not
heard now for years. He could hear his mother's voice and see her
loving eyes resting upon him, and as Heidi ceased the old dear
voice seemed to be saying other things to him; and the words he
heard again must have carried him far, far away, for it was a
long time before he stirred or took his hand from his eyes. When
at last he roused himself he met Heidi's eyes looking wonderingly
at him.

"Heidi," he said, taking the child's hand in his, "that was a
beautiful hymn of yours," and there was a happier ring in his
voice as he spoke. "We will come out here together another day,
and you will let me hear it again."

Peter meanwhile had had enough to do in giving vent to his
anger. It was now some days since Heidi had been out with him,
and when at last she did come, there she sat the whole time
beside the old gentleman, and Peter could not get a word with
her. He got into a terrible temper, and at last went and stood
some way back behind the doctor, where the latter could not see
him, and doubling his fist made imaginary hits at the enemy.
Presently he doubled both fists, and the longer Heidi stayed
beside the gentleman, the more fiercely did he threaten with
them.

Meanwhile the sun had risen to the height which Peter knew
pointed to the dinner hour. All of a sudden he called at the top
of his voice, "It's dinner time."

Heidi was rising to fetch the dinner bag so that the doctor
might eat his where he sat. But he stopped her, telling her he
was not hungry at all, and only cared for a glass of milk, as he
wanted to climb up a little higher. Then Heidi found that she
also was not hungry and only wanted milk, and she should like,
she said, to take the doctor up to the large moss-covered rock
where Greenfinch had nearly jumped down and killed herself. So
she ran and explained matters to Peter, telling him to go and get
milk for the two. Peter seemed hardly to understand. "Who is
going to eat what is in the bag then?" he asked.

"You can have it," she answered, "only first make haste and get
the milk."

Peter had seldom performed any task more promptly, for he
thought of the bag and its contents, which now belonged to him.
As soon as the other two were sitting quietly drinking their
milk, he opened it, and quite trembled for joy at the sight of
the meat, and he was just putting his hand in to draw it out when
something seemed to hold him back. His conscience smote him at
the remembrance of how he had stood with his doubled fists behind
the doctor, who was now giving up to him his whole good dinner.
He felt as if he could not now enjoy it. But all at once he
jumped up and ran back to the spot where he had stood before, and
there held up his open hands as a sign that he had no longer any
wish to use them as fists, and kept them up until he felt he had
made amends for his past conduct. Then he rushed back and sat
down to the double enjoyment of a clear conscience and an
unusually satisfying meal.

Heidi and the doctor climbed and talked for a long while, until
the latter said it was time for him to be going back, and no
doubt Heidi would like to go and be with her goats. But Heidi
would not hear of this, as then the doctor would have to go the
whole way down the mountain alone. She insisted on accompanying
him as far as the grandfather's hut, or even a little further.
She kept hold of her friend's hand all the time, and the whole
way she entertained him with accounts of this thing and that,
showing him the spots where the goats loved best to feed, and
others where in summer the flowers of all colors grew in
greatest abundance. She could give them all their right names,
for her grandfather had taught her these during the summer
months. But at last the doctor insisted on her going back; so
they bid each other good-night and the doctor continued his
descent, turning now and again to look back, and each time he saw
Heidi standing on the same spot and waving her hand to him. Even
so in the old days had his own dear little daughter watched him
when he went from home.

It was a bright sunny autumn month. The doctor came up to the
hut every morning, and thence made excursions over the mountain.
Alm-Uncle accompanied him on some of his higher ascents, when
they climbed up to the ancient storm-beaten fir trees and often
disturbed the great bird which rose startled from its nest, with
the whirl of wings and croakings, very near their heads. The
doctor found great pleasure in his companion's conversation, and
was astonished at his knowledge of the plants that grew on the
mountain: he knew the uses of them all, from the aromatic fir
trees and the dark pines with their scented needles, to the
curly moss that sprang up everywhere about the roots of the trees
and the smallest plant and tiniest flower. He was as well versed
also in the ways of the animals, great and small, and had many
amusing anecdotes to tell of these dwellers in caves and holes
and in the tops of the fir trees. And so the time passed
pleasantly and quickly for the doctor, who seldom said good-bye
to the old man at the end of the day without adding, "I never
leave you, friend, without having learnt something new from you."

On some of the very finest days, however, the doctor would
wander out again with Heidi, and then the two would sit together
as on the first day, and the child would repeat her hymns and
tell the doctor things which she alone knew. Peter sat at a
little distance from them, but he was now quite reconciled in
spirit and gave vent to no angry pantomime.

September had drawn to its close, and now one morning the doctor
appeared looking less cheerful than usual. It was his last day,
he said, as he must return to Frankfurt, but he was grieved at
having to say good-bye to the mountain, which he had begun to
feel quite like home. Alm-Uncle, on his side, greatly regretted
the departure of his guest, and Heidi had been now accustomed
for so long to see her good friend every day that she could
hardly believe the time had suddenly come to separate. She looked
up at him in doubt, taken by surprise, but there was no help, he
must go. So he bid farewell to the old man and asked that Heidi
might go with him part of the return way, and Heidi took his hand
and went down the mountain with him, still unable to grasp the
idea that he was going for good. After some distance the doctor
stood still, and passing his hand over the child's curly head
said, "Now, Heidi, you must go back, and I must say good-bye! If
only I could take you with me to Frankfurt and keep you there!"

The picture of Frankfurt rose before the child's eyes, its rows
of endless houses, its hard streets, and even the vision of
Fraulein Rottenmeier and Tinette, and she answered hesitatingly,
"I would rather that you came back to us."

"Yes, you are right, that would be better. But now good-bye,
Heidi." The child put her hand in his and looked up at him; the
kind eyes looking down on her had tears in them. Then the doctor
tore himself away and quickly continued his descent.

Heidi remained standing without moving. The friendly eyes with
the tears in them had gone to her heart. All at once she burst
into tears and started running as fast as she could after the
departing figure, calling out in broken tones: "Doctor! doctor!"

He turned round and waited till the child reached him. The tears
were streaming down her face and she sobbed out: "I will come to
Frankfurt with you, now at once, and I will stay with you as
long as you like, only I must just run back and tell
grandfather."

The doctor laid his hand on her and tried to calm her
excitement. "No, no, dear child," he said kindly, "not now; you
must stay for the present under the fir trees, or I should have
you ill again. But hear now what I have to ask you. If I am ever
ill and alone, will you come then and stay with me? May I know
that there would then be some one to look after me and care for
me?"

"Yes, yes, I will come the very day you send for me, and I love
you nearly as much as grandfather," replied Heidi, who had not
yet got over her distress.

And so the doctor again bid her good-bye and started on his way,
while Heidi remained looking after him and waving her hand as
long as a speck of him could be seen. As the doctor turned for
the last time and looked back at the waving Heidi and the sunny
mountain, he said to himself, "It is good to be up there, good
for body and soul, and a man might learn how to be happy once
more."

CHAPTER XVIII. WINTER IN DORFLI

The snow was lying so high around the hut that the windows
looked level with the ground, and the door had entirely
disappeared from view. If Alm-Uncle had been up there he would
have had to do what Peter did daily, for fresh snow fell every
night. Peter had to get out of the window of the sitting-room
every morning, and if the frost had not been very hard during the
night, he immediately sank up to his shoulders almost in the snow
and had to struggle with hands, feet, and head to extricate
himself. Then his mother handed him the large broom, and with
this he worked hard to make a way to the door. He had to be
careful to dig the snow well away, or else as soon as the door
was opened the whole soft mass would fall inside, or, if the
frost was severe enough, it would have made such a wall of ice in
front of the house that no one could have gone in or out, for the
window was only big enough for Peter to creep through. The fresh
snow froze like this in the night sometimes, and this was an
enjoyable time for Peter, for he would get through the window on
to the hard, smooth, frozen ground, and his mother would hand him
out the little sleigh, and he could then make his descent to
Dorfli along any route he chose, for the whole mountain was
nothing but one wide, unbroken sleigh road.

Alm-Uncle had kept his word and was not spending the winter in
his old home. As soon as the first snow began to fall, he had
shut up the hut and the outside buildings and gone down to
Dorfli with Heidi and the goats. Near the church was a straggling
half-ruined building, which had once been the house of a person
of consequence. A distinguished soldier had lived there at one
time; he had taken service in Spain and had there performed many
brave deeds and gathered much treasure. When he returned home to
Dorfli he spent part of his booty in building a fine house, with
the intention of living in it. But he had been too long
accustomed to the noise and bustle of arms and the world to care
for a quiet country life, and he soon went off again, and this
time did not return. When after many long years it seemed
certain that he was dead, a distant relative took possession of
the house, but it had already fallen into disrepair, and he had
no wish to rebuild it. So it was let to poor people, who paid but
a small rent, and when any part of the building fell it was
allowed to remain. This had now gone on for many years. As long
ago as when his son Tobias was a child Alm-Uncle had rented the
tumble- down old place. Since then it had stood empty, for no one
could stay in it who had not some idea of how to stop up the
holes and gaps and make it habitable. Otherwise the wind and rain
and snow blew into the rooms, so that it was impossible even to
keep a candle alight, and the indwellers would have been frozen
to death during the long cold winters. Alm-Uncle, however, knew
how to mend matters. As soon as he made up his mind to spend the
winter in Dorfli, he rented the old place and worked during the
autumn to get it sound and tight. In the middle of October he and
Heidi took up their residence there.

On approaching the house from the back one came first into an
open space with a wall on either side, of which one was half in
ruins. Above this rose the arch of an old window thickly
overgrown with ivy, which spread over the remains of a domed
roof that had evidently been part of a chapel. A large hall came
next, which lay open, without doors, to the square outside. Here
also walls and roof only partially remained, and indeed what was
left of the roof looked as if it might fall at any minute had it
not been for two stout pillars that supported it. Alm-Uncle had
here put up a wooden partition and covered the floor with straw,
for this was to be the goats' house. Endless passages led from
this, through the rents of which the sky as well as the fields
and the road outside could be seen at intervals; but at last one
came to a stout oak door that led into a room that still stood
intact. Here the walls and the dark wainscoting remained as good
as ever, and in the corner was an immense stove reaching nearly
to the ceiling, on the white tiles of which were painted large
pictures in blue. These represented old castles surrounded with
trees, and huntsmen riding out with their hounds; or else a quiet
lake scene, with broad oak trees and a man fishing. A seat ran
all round the stove so that one could sit at one's ease and study
the pictures. These attracted Heidi's attention at once, and she
had no sooner arrived with her grandfather than she ran and
seated herself and began to examine them. But when she had
gradually worked herself round to the back, something else
diverted her attention. In the large space between the stove and
the wall four planks had been put together as if to make a large
receptacle for apples; there were no apples, however, inside, but
something Heidi had no difficulty in recognising, for it was her
very own bed, with its hay mattress and sheets, and sack for a
coverlid, just as she had it up at the hut. Heidi clapped her
hands for joy and exclaimed, "O grandfather, this is my room, how
nice! But where are you going to sleep?"

"Your room must be near the stove or you will freeze," he
replied, "but you can come and see mine too."

Heidi got down and skipped across the large room after her
grandfather, who opened a door at the farther end leading into a
smaller one which was to be his bedroom. Then came another door.
Heidi pushed it open and stood amazed, for here was an immense
room like a kitchen, larger than anything of the kind that Heidi
had seen before. There was still plenty of work for the
grandfather before this room could be finished, for there were
holes and cracks in the walls through which the wind whistled,
and yet he had already nailed up so many new planks that it
looked as if a lot of small cupboards had been set up round the
room. He had, however, made the large old door safe with many
screws and nails, as a protection against the outside air, and
this was very necessary, for just beyond was a mass of ruined
buildings overgrown with tall weeds, which made a dwelling-place
for endless beetles and lizards.

Heidi was very delighted with her new home, and by the morning
after their arrival she knew every nook and corner so thoroughly
that she could take Peter over it and show him all that was to
be seen; indeed she would not let him go till he had examined
every single wonderful thing contained in it.

Heidi slept soundly in her corner by the stove; but every
morning when she first awoke she still thought she was on the
mountain, and that she must run outside at once to see if the fir
trees were so quiet because their branches were weighed down with
the thick snow. She had to look about her for some minutes before
she felt quite sure where she was, and a certain sensation of
trouble and oppression would come over her as she grew aware that
she was not at home in the hut. But then she would hear her
grandfather's voice outside, attending to the goats, and these
would give one or two loud bleats, as if calling to her to make
haste and go to them, and then Heidi was happy again, for she
knew she was still at home, and she would jump gladly out of bed
and run out to the animals as quickly as she could. On the fourth
morning, as soon as she saw her grandfather, she said, "I must go
up to see grandmother to-day; she ought not to be alone so long."

But the grandfather would not agree to this. "Neither to-day nor
to-morrow can you go," he said; "the mountain is covered fathom-
deep in snow, and the snow is still falling; the sturdy Peter can
hardly get along. A little creature like you would soon be
smothered by it, and we should not be able to find you again.
Wait a bit till it freezes, then you will be able to walk over
the hard snow."

Heidi did not like the thought of having to wait, but the days
were so busy that she hardly knew how they went by.

Heidi now went to school in Dorfli every morning and afternoon,
and eagerly set to work to learn all that was taught her. She
hardly ever saw Peter there, for as a rule he was absent. The
teacher was an easy-going man who merely remarked now and then,
"Peter is not turning up to-day again, it seems, but there is a
lot of snow up on the mountain and I daresay he cannot get
along." Peter, however, always seemed able to make his way
through the snow in the evening when school was over, and he
then generally paid Heidi a visit.

At last, after some days, the sun again appeared and shone
brightly over the white ground, but he went to bed again behind
the mountains at a very early hour, as if he did not find such
pleasure in looking down on the earth as when everything was
green and flowery. But then the moon came out clear and large
and lit up the great white snowfield all through the night, and
the next morning the whole mountain glistened and sparkled like a
huge crystal. When Peter got out of his window as usual, he was
taken by surprise, for instead of sinking into the soft snow he
fell on the hard ground and went sliding some way down the
mountain side like a sleigh before he could stop himself. He
picked himself up and tested the hardness of the ground by
stamping on it and trying with all his might to dig his heels
into it, but even then he could not break off a single little
splinter of ice; the Alm was frozen hard as iron. This was just
what Peter had been hoping for, as he knew now that Heidi would
be able to come up to them. He quickly got back into the house,
swallowed the milk which his mother had put ready for him,
thrust a piece of bread in his pocket, and said, "I must be off
to school." "That's right, go and learn all you can," said the
grandmother encouragingly. Peter crept through the window again--
the door was quite blocked by the frozen snow outside--pulling
his little sleigh after him, and in another minute was shooting
down the mountain.

He went like lightning, and when he reached Dorfli, which stood
on the direct road to Mayenfeld, he made up his mind to go on
further, for he was sure he could not stop his rapid descent
without hurting himself and the sleigh too. So down he still
went till he reached the level ground, where the sleigh came to a
pause of its own accord. Then he got out and looked round. The
impetus with which he had made his journey down had carried him
some little way beyond Mayenfeld. He bethought himself that it
was too late to get to school now, as lessons would already have
begun, and it would take him a good hour to walk back to Dorfli.
So he might take his time about returning, which he did, and
reached Dorfli just as Heidi had got home from school and was
sitting at dinner with her grandfather. Peter walked in, and as
on this occasion he had something particular to communicate, he
began without a pause, exclaiming as he stood still in the
middle of the room, "She's got it now."

"Got it? what?" asked the Uncle. "Your words sound quite
warlike, general."

"The frost," explained Peter.

"Oh! then now I can go and see grandmother!" said Heidi
joyfully, for she had understood Peter's words at once. "But why
were you not at school then? You could have come down in the
sleigh," she added reproachfully, for it did not agree with
Heidi's ideas of good behavior to stay away when it was possible
to be there.

"It carried me on too far and I was too late," Peter replied.

"I call that being a deserter," said the Uncle, "and deserters
get their ears pulled, as you know."

Peter gave a tug to his cap in alarm, for there was no one of
whom he stood in so much awe as Alm-Uncle.

"And an army leader like yourself ought to be doubly ashamed of
running away," continued Alm-Uncle. "What would you think of
your goats if one went off this way and another that, and refused
to follow and do what was good for them? What would you do then?"

"I should beat them," said Peter promptly.

"And if a boy behaved like these unruly goats, and he got a
beating for it, what would you say then?"

"Serve him right," was the answer.

"Good, then understand this: next time you let your sleigh carry
you past the school when you ought to be inside at your lessons,
come on to me afterwards and receive what you deserve."

Peter now understood the drift of the old man's questions and
that he was the boy who behaved like the unruly goats, and he
looked somewhat fearfully towards the corner to see if anything
happened to be there such as he used himself on such occasions
for the punishment of his animals.

But now the grandfather suddenly said in a cheerful voice, "Come
and sit down and have something, and afterwards Heidi shall go
with you. Bring her back this evening and you will find supper
waiting for you here."

This unexpected turn of conversation set Peter grinning all over
with delight. He obeyed without hesitation and took his seat
beside Heidi. But the child could not eat any more in her
excitement at the thought of going to see grandmother. She
pushed the potatoes and toasted cheese which still stood on her
plate towards him while Uncle was filling his plate from the
other side, so that he had quite a pile of food in front of him,
but he attacked it without any lack of courage. Heidi ran to the
cupboard and brought out the warm cloak Clara had sent her; with
this on and the hood drawn over her head, she was all ready for
her journey. She stood waiting beside Peter, and as soon as his
last mouthful had disappeared she said, "Come along now." As the
two walked together Heidi had much to tell Peter of her two
goats that had been so unhappy the first day in their new stall
that they would not eat anything, but stood hanging their heads,
not even rousing themselves to bleat. And when she asked her
grandfather the reason of this, he told her it was with them as
with her in Frankfurt, for it was the first time in their lives
they had come down from the mountain. "And you don't know what
that is, Peter, unless you have felt it yourself," added Heidi.

The children had nearly reached their destination before Peter
opened his mouth; he appeared to be so sunk in thought that he
hardly heard what was said to him. As they neared home, however,
he stood still and said in a somewhat sullen voice, "I had
rather go to school even than get what Uncle threatened."

Heidi was of the same mind, and encouraged him in his good
intention. They found Brigitta sitting alone knitting, for the
grandmother was not very well and had to stay the day in bed on
account of the cold. Heidi had never before missed the old
figure in her place in the corner, and she ran quickly into the
next room. There lay grandmother on her little poorly covered
bed, wrapped up in her warm grey shawl.

"Thank God," she exclaimed as Heidi came running in; the poor
old woman had had a secret fear at heart all through the autumn,
especially if Heidi was absent for any length of time, for Peter
had told her of a strange gentleman who had come from Frankfurt,
and who had gone out with them and always talked to Heidi, and
she had felt sure he had come to take her away again. Even when
she heard he had gone off alone, she still had an idea that a
messenger would be sent over from Frankfurt to fetch the child.
Heidi went up to the side of the bed and said, "Are you very
ill, grandmother?"

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20