Books: Heidi

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Heidi now awoke and was surprised to see Clara dressed, and
already in the grandfather's arms ready to be carried down. She
must be up too, and she went through her toilette with lightning-
like speed. She ran down the ladder and out of the hut, and there
further astonishment awaited her, for grandfather had been busy
the night before after they were in bed. Seeing that it was
impossible to get Clara's chair through the hut-door, he had
taken down two of the boards at the side of the shed and made an
opening large enough to admit the chair; these he left loose so
that they could be taken away and put up at pleasure. He was at
this moment wheeling Clara out into the sun; he left her in
front of the hut while he went to look after the goats, and Heidi
ran up to her friend.

The fresh morning breeze blew round the children's faces, and
every fresh puff brought a waft of fragrance from the fir trees.
Clara drew it in with delight and lay back in her chair with an
unaccustomed feeling of health and comfort.

It was the first time in her life that she had been out in the
open country at this early hour and felt the fresh morning
breeze, and the pure mountain air was so cool and refreshing
that every breath she drew was a pleasure. And then the bright
sweet sun, which was not hot and sultry up here, but lay soft and
warm on her hands and on the grass at her feet. Clara had not
imagined that it would be like this on the mountain.

"O Heidi, if only I could stay up here for ever with you," she
exclaimed happily, turning in her chair from side to side that
she might drink in the air and sun from all quarters.

"Now you see that it is just what I told you," replied Heidi
delighted; "that it is the most beautiful thing in the world to
be up here with grandfather."

The latter at that moment appeared coming from the goat shed and
bringing two small foaming bowls of snow-white milk--one for
Clara and one for Heidi.

"That will do the little daughter good," he said, nodding to
Clara; "it is from Little Swan and will make her strong. To your
health, child! drink it up."

Clara had never tasted goat's milk before; she hesitated and
smelt it before putting it to her lips, but seeing how Heidi
drank hers up without hesitating, and how much she seemed to like
it, Clara did the same, and drank till there was not a drop left,
for she too found it delicious, tasting just as if sugar and
cinnamon had been mixed with it.

"To-morrow we will drink two," said the grandfather, who had
looked on with satisfaction at seeing her follow Heidi's
example.

Peter now arrived with the goats, and while Heidi was receiving
her usual crowded morning greetings, Uncle drew Peter aside to
speak to him, for the goats, bleated so loudly and continuously
in their wish to express their joy and affection that no one
could be heard near them.

"Attend to what I have to say," he said. "From to-day be sure you
let Little Swan go where she likes. She has an instinct where to
find the best food for herself, and so if she wants to climb
higher, you follow her, and it will do the others no harm if they
go too; on no account bring her back. A little more climbing
won't hurt you, and in this matter she probably knows better than
you what is good for her; I want her to give as fine milk as
possible. Why are you looking over there as if you wanted to eat
somebody? Nobody will interfere with you. So now be off and
remember what I say."

Peter was accustomed to give immediate obedience to Uncle, and
he marched off with his goats, but with a turn of the head and
roll of the eye that showed he had some thought in reserve. The
goats carried Heidi along with them a little way, which was what
Peter wanted. "You will have to come with them," he called to
her, "for I shall be obliged to follow Little Swan."

"I cannot," Heidi called back from the midst of her friends,
"and I shall not be able to come for a long, long time--not as
long as Clara is with me. Grandfather, however, has promised to
go up the mountain with both of us one day."

Heidi had now extricated herself from the goats and she ran back
to Clara. Peter doubled his fists and made threatening gestures
towards the invalid on her couch, and then climbed up some
distance without pause until he was out of sight, for he was
afraid Uncle might have seen him, and he did not care to know
what Uncle might have thought of the fists.

Clara and Heidi had made so many plans for themselves that they
hardly knew where to begin. Heidi suggested that they should
first write to grandmamma, to whom they had promised to send word
every day, for grandmamma had not felt sure whether it would in
the long run suit Clara's health to remain up the mountain, or if
she would continue to enjoy herself there. With daily news of her
granddaughter she could stay on without anxiety at Ragatz, and be
ready to go to Clara at a moment's notice.

"Must we go indoors to write?" asked Clara, who agreed to Heidi's
proposal but did not want to move from where she was, as it was
so much nicer outside. Heidi was prepared to arrange everything.
She ran in and brought out her school-book and writing things and
her own little stool. She put her reading book and copy book on
Clara's knees, to make a desk for her to write upon, and she
herself took her seat on the stool and sat to the bench, and then
they both began writing to grandmamma. But Clara paused after
every sentence to look about her; it was too beautiful for much
letter writing. The breeze had sunk a little, and now only gently
fanned her face and whispered lightly through the fir trees.
Little winged insects hummed and danced around her in the clear
air, and a great stillness lay over the far, wide, sunny pasture
lands. Lofty and silent rose the high mountain peaks above her,
and below lay the whole broad valley full of quiet peace. Only
now and again the call of some shepherd-boy rang out through the
air, and echo answered softly from the rocks. The morning passed,
the children hardly knew how, and now grandfather came with the
mid-day bowls of steaming milk, for the little daughter, he said,
was to remain out as long as there was a gleam of sun in the sky.
The mid-day meal was set out and eaten as yesterday in the open
air. Then Heidi pushed Clara's chair under the fir trees, for
they had agreed to spend the afternoon under their shade and
there tell each other all that had happened since Heidi left
Frankfurt. If everything had gone on there as usual in a general
way, there were still all kinds of particular things to tell
Heidi about the various people who composed the Sesemann
household, and who were all so well known to Heidi.

So they sat and chatted under the trees, and the more lively
grew their conversation, the more loudly sang the birds overhead,
as if wishing to take part in the children's gossip, which
evidently pleased them. So the hours flew by and all at once, as
it seemed, the evening had come with the returning Peter, who
still scowled and looked angry.

"Good-night, Peter," called out Heidi, as she saw he had no
intention of stopping to speak.

"Good-night, Peter," called out Clara in a friendly voice. Peter
took no notice and went surlily on with his goats.

As Clara saw the grandfather leading away Little Swan to milk
her, she was suddenly taken with a longing for another bowlful
of the fragrant milk, and waited impatiently for it.

"Isn't it curious, Heidi," she said, astonished at herself, "as
long as I can remember I have only eaten because I was obliged
to, and everything used to seem to taste of cod liver oil, and I
was always wishing there was no need to eat or drink; and now I
am longing for grandfather to bring me the milk."

"Yes, I know what it feels like," replied Heidi, who remembered
the many days in Frankfurt when all her food used to seem to
stick in her throat. Clara, however, could not understand it;
the fact was that she had never in her life before spent a whole
day in the open air, much less in such high, life-giving mountain
air. When grandfather at last brought her the evening milk, she
drank it up so quickly that she had emptied her bowl before
Heidi, and then she asked for a little more. The grandfather
went inside with both the children's bowls, and when he brought
them out again full he had something else to add to their supper.
He had walked over that afternoon to a herdsman's house where the
sweetly-tasting butter was made, and had brought home a large
pat, some of which he had now spread thickly on two good slices
of bread. He stood and watched with pleasure while Clara and
Heidi ate their appetising meal with childish hunger and
enjoyment.

That night, when Clara lay down in her bed and prepared to watch
the stars, her eyes would not keep open, and she fell asleep as
soon as Heidi and slept soundly all night--a thing she never
remembered having done before. The following day and the day
after passed in the same pleasant fashion, and the third day
there came a surprise for the children. Two stout porters came
up the mountain, each carrying a bed on his shoulders with
bedding of all kinds and two beautiful new white coverlids. The
men also had a letter with them from grandmamma, in which she
said that these were for Clara and Heidi, and that Heidi in
future was always to sleep in a proper bed, and when she went
down to Dorfli in the winter she was to take one with her and
leave the other at the hut, so that Clara might always know there
was a bed ready for her when she paid a visit to the mountain.
She went on to thank the children for their long letters and
encouraged them to continue writing daily, so that she might be
able to picture all they were doing.

So the grandfather went up and threw back the hay from Heidi's
bed on to the great heap, and then with his help the beds were
transported to the loft. He put them close to one another so
that the children might still be able to see out of the window,
for he knew what pleasure they had in the light from the sun and
stars.

Meanwhile grandmamma down at Ragatz was rejoicing at the
excellent news of the invalid which reached her daily from the
mountain. Clara found the life more charming each day and could
not say enough of the kindness and care which the grandfather
lavished upon her, nor of Heidi's lively and amusing
companionship, for the latter was more entertaining even than
when in Frankfurt with her, and Clara's first thought when she
woke each morning was, "Oh, how glad I am to be here still."

Having such fresh assurances each day that all was going well
with Clara, grandmamma thought she might put off her visit to
the children a little longer, for the steep ride up and down was
somewhat of a fatigue to her.

The grandfather seemed to feel an especial sympathy for this
little invalid charge, for he tried to think of something fresh
every day to help forward her recovery. He climbed up the
mountain every afternoon, higher and higher each day, and came
home in the evening with a large bunch of leaves which scented
the air with a mingled fragrance as of carnations and thyme,
even from afar. He hung it up in the goat shed, and the goats on
their return were wild to get at it, for they recognised the
smell. But Uncle did not go climbing after rare plants to give
the goats the pleasure of eating them without any trouble of
finding them; what he gathered was for Little Swan alone, that
she might give extra fine milk, and the effect of the extra
feeding was shown in the way she flung her head in the air with
ever-increasing frolicsomeness, and in the bright glow of her
eye.

Clara had now been on the mountain for three weeks. For some
days past the grandfather, each morning after carrying her down,
had said, "Won't the little daughter try if she can stand for a
minute or two?" And Clara had made the effort in order to please
him, but had clung to him as soon as her feet touched the
ground, exclaiming that it hurt her so. He let her try a little
longer, however, each day.

It was many years since they had had such a splendid summer
among the mountains. Day after day there were the same cloudless
sky and brilliant sun; the flowers opened wide their fragrant
blossoms, and everywhere the eye was greeted with a glow of
color; and when the evening came the crimson light fell on
mountain peaks and on the great snow-field, till at last the sun
sank in a sea of golden flame.

And Heidi never tired of telling Clara of all this, for only
higher up could the full glory of the colors be rightly seen;
and more particularly did she dwell on the beauty of the spot on
the higher slope of the mountain, where the bright golden rock-
roses grew in masses, and the blue flowers were in such numbers
that the very grass seemed to have turned blue, while near these
were whole bushes of the brown blossoms, with their delicious
scent, so that you never wanted to move again when you once sat
down among them.

She had just been expatiating on the flowers as she sat with
Clara under the fir trees one evening, and had been telling her
again of the wonderful light from the evening sun, when such an
irrepressible longing came over her to see it all once more that
she jumped up and ran to her grandfather, who was in the shed,
calling out almost before she was inside,--

"Grandfather, will you take us out with the goats to-morrow? Oh,
it is so lovely up there now!"

"Very well," he answered, "but if I do, the little daughter must
do something to please me: she must try her best again this
evening to stand on her feet."

Heidi ran back with the good news to Clara, and the latter
promised to try her very best as the grandfather wished, for she
looked forward immensely to the next day's excursion. Heidi was
so pleased and excited that she called out to Peter as soon as
she caught sight of him that evening,--

"Peter, Peter, we are all coming out with you to-morrow and are
going to stay up there the whole day."

Peter, cross as a bear, grumbled some reply, and lifted his
stick to give Greenfinch a blow for no reason in particular, but
Greenfinch saw the movement, and with a leap over Snowflake's
back she got out of the way, and the stick only hit the air.

Clara and Heidi got into their two fine beds that night full of
delightful anticipation of the morrow; they were so full of
their plans that they agreed to keep awake all night and talk
over them until they might venture to get up. But their heads had
no sooner touched their soft pillows than the conversation
suddenly ceased, and Clara fell into a dream of an immense field,
which looked the color of the sky, so thickly inlaid was it with
blue bell-shaped flowers; and Heidi heard the great bird of prey
calling to her from the heights above, "Come! come! come!"

CHAPTER XXII. SOMETHING UNEXPECTED HAPPENS

Uncle went out early the next morning to see what kind of a day
it was going to be. There was a reddish gold light over the
higher peaks; a light breeze springing up and the branches of the
fir trees moved gently to and fro the sun was on its way.

The old man stood and watched the green slopes under the higher
peaks gradually growing brighter with the coming day and the dark
shadows lifting from the valley, until at first a rosy light
filled its hollows, and then the morning gold flooded every
height and depth--the sun had risen.

Uncle wheeled the chair out of the shed ready for the coming
journey, and then went in to call the children and tell them what
a lovely sunrise it was.

Peter came up at this moment. The goats did not gather round him
so trustfully as usual, but seemed to avoid him timidly, for
Peter had reached a high pitch of anger and bitterness, and was
laying about him with his stick very unnecessarily, and where it
fell the blow was no light one. For weeks now he had not had
Heidi all to himself as formerly. When he came up in the morning
the invalid child was always already in her chair and Heidi fully
occupied with her. And it was the same thing over again when he
came down in the evening. She had not come out with the goats
once this summer, and now to-day she was only coming in company
with her friend and the chair, and would stick by the latter's
side the whole time. It was the thought of this which was making
him particularly cross this morning. There stood the chair on its
high wheels; Peter seemed to see something proud and disdainful
about it, and he glared at it as at an enemy that had done him
harm and was likely to do him more still to-day. He glanced
round--there was no sound anywhere, no one to see him. He sprang
forward like a wild creature, caught hold of it, and gave it a
violent and angry push in the direction of the slope. The chair
rolled swiftly forward and in another minute had disappeared.

Peter now sped up the mountain as if on wings, not pausing till
he was well in shelter of a large blackberry bush, for he had no
wish to be seen by Uncle. But he was anxious to see what had
become of the chair, and his bush was well placed for that.
Himself hidden, he could watch what happened below and see what
Uncle did without being discovered himself. So he looked, and
there he saw his enemy running faster and faster down hill, then
it turned head over heels several times, and finally, after one
great bound, rolled over and over to its complete destruction.
The pieces flew in every direction--feet, arms, and torn
fragments of the padded seat and bolster--and Peter experienced a
feeling of such unbounded delight at the sight that he leapt in
the air, laughing aloud and stamping for joy; then he took a run
round, jumping over bushes on the way, only to return to the same
spot and fall into fresh fits of laughter. He was beside himself
with satisfaction, for he could see only good results for himself
in this disaster to his enemy. Now Heidi's friend would be
obliged to go away, for she would have no means of going about,
and when Heidi was alone again she would come out with him as in
the old days, and everything would go on in the proper way again.
But Peter did not consider, or did not know, that when we do a
wrong thing trouble is sure to follow.

Heidi now came running out of the hut and round to the shed.
Grandfather was behind with Clara in his arms. The shed stood
wide open, the two loose planks having been taken down, and it
was quite light inside. Heidi looked into every corner and ran
from one end to the other, and then stood still wondering what
could have happened to the chair. Grandfather now came up.

"How is this, have you wheeled the chair away, Heidi?"

"I have been looking everywhere for it, grandfather; you said it
was standing ready outside," and she again searched each corner
of the shed with her eyes.

At that moment the wind, which had risen suddenly, blew open the
shed door and sent it banging back against the wall.

"It must have been the wind, grandfather," exclaimed Heidi, and
her eyes grew anxious at this sudden discovery. "Oh! if it has
blown the chair all the way down to Dorfli we shall not get it
back in time, and shall not be able to go."

"If it has rolled as far as that it will never come back, for it
is in a hundred pieces by now," said the grandfather, going
round the corner and looking down. "But it's a curious thing to
have happened!" he added as he thought over the matter, for the
chair would have had to turn a corner before starting down hill.

"Oh, I am sorry," lamented Clara, "for we shall not be able to
go to-day, or perhaps any other day. I shall have to go home, I
suppose, if I have no chair. Oh, I am so sorry, I am so sorry!"

But Heidi looked towards her grandfather with her usual
expression of confidence.

"Grandfather, you will be able to do something, won't you, so
that it need not be as Clara says, and so that she is not
obliged to go home?"

"Well, for the present we will go up the mountain as we had
arranged, and then later on we will see what can be done," he
answered, much to the children's delight.

He went indoors, fetched out a pile of shawls, and laying them
on the sunniest spot he could find set Clara down upon them. Then
he fetched the children's morning milk and had out his two goats.

"Why is Peter not here yet?" thought Uncle to himself, for
Peter's whistle had not been sounded that morning. The
grandfather now took Clara up on one arm, and the shawls on the
other.

"Now then we will start," he said; "the goats can come with us."

Heidi was pleased at this and walked on after her grandfather
with an arm over either of the goats' necks, and the animals were
so overjoyed to have her again that they nearly squeezed her flat
between them out of sheer affection. When they reached the spot
where the goats usually pastured they were surprised to find them
already feeding there, climbing about the rocks, and Peter with
them, lying his full length on the ground.

"I'll teach you another time to go by like that, you lazy
rascal! What do you mean by it?" Uncle called to him.

Peter, recognising the voice, jumped up like a shot. "No one was
up," he answered.

"Have you seen anything of the chair?" asked the grandfather.

"Of what chair?" called Peter back in answer in a morose tone of
voice.

Uncle said no more. He spread the shawls on the sunny slope, and
setting Clara upon them asked if she was comfortable.

"As comfortable as in my chair," she said, thanking him, "and
this seems the most beautiful spot. O Heidi, it is lovely, it is
lovely!" she cried, looking round her with delight.

The grandfather prepared to leave them. They would now be safe
and happy together, he said, and when it was time for dinner
Heidi was to go and fetch the bag from the shady hollow where he
had put it; Peter was to bring them as much milk as they wanted,
but Heidi was to see that it was Little Swan's milk. He would
come and fetch them towards evening; he must now be off to see
after the chair and ascertain what had become of it.

The sky was dark blue, and not a single cloud was to be seen
from one horizon to the other. The great snow-field overhead
sparkled as if set with thousands and thousands of gold and
silver stars. The two grey mountains peaks lifted their lofty
heads against the sky and looked solemnly down upon the valley as
of old; the great bird was poised aloft in the clear blue air,
and the mountain wind came over the heights and blew refreshingly
around the children as they sat on the sunlit slope. It was all
indescribably enjoyable to Clara and Heidi. Now and again a
young goat came and lay down beside them; Snowflake came
oftenest, putting her little head down near Heidi, and only
moving because another goat came and drove her away. Clara had
learned to know them all so well that she never mistook one for
the other now, for each had an expression and ways of its own.
And the goats had also grown familiar with Clara and would rub
their heads against her shoulder, which was always a sign of
acquaintanceship and goodwill.

Some hours went by, and Heidi began to think that she might just
go over to the spot where all the flowers grew to see if they
were fully blown and looking as lovely as the year before. Clara
could not go until grandfather came back that evening, when the
flowers probably would be already closed. The longing to go
became stronger and stronger, till she felt she could not resist
it.

"Would you think me unkind, Clara," she said rather
hesitatingly, "if I left you for a few minutes? I should run
there and back very quickly. I want so to see how the flowers are
looking--but wait--" for an idea had come into Heidi's head. She
ran and picked a bunch or two of green leaves, and then took hold
of Snowflake and led her up to Clara.

"There, now you will not be alone," said Heidi, giving the goat
a little push to show her she was to lie down near Clara, which
the animal quite understood. Heidi threw the leaves into Clara's
lap, and the latter told her friend to go at once to look at the
flowers as she was quite happy to be left with the goat; she
liked this new experience. Heidi ran off, and Clara began to
hold out the leaves one by one to Snowflake, who snoozled up to
her new friend in a confiding manner and slowly ate the leaves
from her hand. It was easy to see that Snowflake enjoyed this
peaceful and sheltered way of feeding, for when with the other
goats she had much persecution to endure from the larger and
stronger ones of the flock. And Clara found a strange new
pleasure in sitting all alone like this on the mountain side, her
only companion a little goat that looked to her for protection.
She suddenly felt a great desire to be her own mistress and to be
able to help others, instead of herself being always dependent as
she was now. Many thoughts, unknown to her before, came crowding
into her mind, and a longing to go on living in the sunshine, and
to be doing something that would bring happiness to another, as
now she was helping to make the goat happy. An unaccustomed
feeling of joy took possession of her, as if everything she had
ever known or felt became all at once more beautiful, and she
seemed to see all things in a new light, and so strong was the
sense of this new beauty and happiness that she threw her arms
round the little goat's neck, and exclaimed, "O Snowflake, how
delightful it is up here! if only I could stay on for ever with
you beside me!"

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