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Part 2

Heidi Makes Use of Her Experience

15

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.

16

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.” 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.

17

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.”

18

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.” 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.

19

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.