Heidi
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Johanna Spyri >> Heidi
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"Who was the old goat?"
"Her mother, of course."
"Where is her grandmother?"
"She hasn't any."
"And her grandfather?"
"Hasn't any either."
"Poor little Snowhopper!" said Heidi, drawing the little creature
tenderly to her. "Don't grieve any more; see, I am coming up with you
every day now, and if there is anything the matter, you can come to
me."
Snowhopper rubbed her head against Heidi's shoulder and stopped
bleating. When Peter had finally finished his dinner, he joined Heidi.
The little girl had just been observing that Schwaenli and Baerli were
by far the cleanest and prettiest of the goats. They evaded the
obtrusive Turk with a sort of contempt and always managed to find the
greenest bushes for themselves. She mentioned it to Peter, who
replied: "I know! Of course they are the prettiest, because the uncle
washes them and gives them salt. He has the best stable by far."
All of a sudden Peter, who had been lying on the ground, jumped up and
bounded after the goats. Heidi, knowing that something must have
happened, followed him. She saw him running to a dangerous abyss on
the side. Peter had noticed how the rash Thistlefinch had gone nearer
and nearer to the dangerous spot. Peter only just came in time to
prevent the goat from falling down over the very edge. Unfortunately
Peter had stumbled over a stone in his hurry and was only able to
catch the goat by one leg. The Thistlefinch, being enraged to find
himself stopped in his charming ramble, bleated furiously. Not being
able to get up, Peter loudly called for help. Heidi immediately saw
that Peter was nearly pulling off the animal's leg. She quickly picked
some fragrant herbs and holding them under the animal's nose, she said
soothingly: "Come, come, Thistlefinch, and be sensible. You might fall
down there and break your leg. That would hurt you horribly."
The goat turned about and devoured the herbs Heidi held in her hand.
When Peter got to his feet, he led back the runaway with Heidi's help.
When he had the goat in safety, he raised his rod to beat it for
punishment. The goat retreated shyly, for it knew what was coming.
Heidi screamed loudly: "Peter, no, do not beat him! look how scared he
is."
"He well deserves it," snarled Peter, ready to strike. But Heidi,
seizing his arm, shouted, full of indignation: "You mustn't hurt him!
Let him go!"
Heidi's eyes were sparkling, and when he saw her with her commanding
mien, he desisted and dropped his rope. "I'll let him go, if you give
me a piece of your cheese again to-morrow," he said, for he wanted a
compensation for his fright.
"You may have it all to-morrow and every day, because I don't need
it," Heidi assured him. "I shall also give you a big piece of bread,
if you promise never to beat any of the goats."
"I don't care," growled Peter, and in that way he gave his promise.
Thus the day had passed, and the sun was already sinking down behind
the mountains. Sitting on the grass, Heidi looked at the bluebells and
the wild roses that were shining in the last rays of the sun. The
peaks also started to glow, and Heidi suddenly called to the boy: "Oh,
Peter, look! everything is on fire. The mountains are burning and the
sky, too. Oh, look! the moon over there is on fire, too. Do you see
the mountains all in a glow? Oh, how beautiful the snow looks! Peter,
the eagle's nest is surely on fire, too. Oh, look at the fir-trees
over there!"
Peter was quietly peeling his rod, and looking up, said to Heidi:
"This is no fire; it always looks like that."
"But what is it then?" asked Heidi eagerly, gazing about her
everywhere.
"It gets that way of itself," explained Peter.
"Oh look! Everything is all rosy now! Oh, look at this mountain over
there with the snow and the sharp peaks. What is its name?"
"Mountains have no names," he answered.
"Oh, see, how beautiful! It looks as if many, many roses were growing
on those cliffs. Oh, now they are getting grey. Oh dear! the fire has
gone out and it is all over. What a terrible shame!" said Heidi quite
despondently.
"It will be the same again tomorrow," Peter reassured her. "Come now,
we have to go home."
When Peter had called the goats together, they started downwards.
"Will it be like that every day when we are up?" asked Heidi, eagerly.
"It usually is," was the reply.
"What about tomorrow?" she inquired.
"Tomorrow it will be like that, I am sure," Peter affirmed.
That made Heidi feel happy again. She walked quietly by Peter's side,
thinking over all the new things she had seen. At last, reaching the
hut, they found the grandfather waiting for them on a bench under the
fir-trees. Heidi ran up to him and the two goats followed, for they
knew their master. Peter called to her: "Come again tomorrow!
Good-night!"
Heidi gave him her hand, assuring him that she would come, and finding
herself surrounded by the goats, she hugged Snowhopper a last time.
When Peter had disappeared, Heidi returned to her grandfather. "Oh
grandfather! it was so beautiful! I saw the fire and the roses on the
rocks! And see the many, many flowers I am bringing you!" With that
Heidi shook them out of her apron. But oh, how miserable they looked!
Heidi did not even know them any more.
"What is the matter with them, grandfather? They looked so different!"
Heidi exclaimed in her fright.
"They are made to bloom in the sun and not to be shut up in an apron,"
said the grandfather.
"Then I shall never pick them any more! Please, grandfather, tell me
why the eagle screeches so loudly," asked Heidi.
"First go and take a bath, while I go into the shed to get your milk.
Afterwards we'll go inside together and I'll tell you all about it
during supper-time."
They did as was proposed, and when Heidi sat on her high chair before
her milk, she asked the same question as before.
"Because he is sneering at the people down below, who sit in the
villages and make each other angry. He calls down to them:--'If you
would go apart to live up on the heights like me, you would feel much
better!'" The grandfather said these last words with such a wild
voice, that it reminded Heidi of the eagle's screech.
"Why do the mountains have no names, grandfather?" asked Heidi.
"They all have names, and if you tell me their shape I can name them
for you."
Heidi described several and the old man could name them all. The child
told him now about all the happenings of the day, and especially about
the wonderful fire. She asked how it came about.
"The sun does it," he exclaimed. "Saying good-night to the mountains,
he throws his most beautiful rays to them, that they may not forget
him till the morning."
Heidi was so much pleased with this explanation, that she could hardly
wait to see the sun's good-night greetings repeated. It was time now
to go to bed, and Heidi slept soundly all night. She dreamt that the
little Snowhopper was bounding happily about on the glowing mountains
with many glistening roses blooming round her.
IV
IN THE GRANDMOTHER'S HUT
Next morning Peter came again with his goats, and Heidi went up to the
pasture with them. This happened day after day, and in this healthy
life Heidi grew stronger, and more sunburnt every day. Soon the autumn
came and when the wind was blowing across the mountainside, the
grandfather would say: "You must stay home to-day, Heidi; for the wind
can blow such a little thing as you down into the valley with a single
gust."
It always made Peter unhappy when Heidi did not come along, for he saw
nothing but misfortunes ahead of him; he hardly knew how to pass his
time, and besides, he was deprived of his abundant dinner. The goats
were so accustomed to Heidi by this time, that they did not follow
Peter when she was not with him.
Heidi herself did not mind staying at home, for she loved nothing
better than to watch her grandfather with his saw and hammer.
Sometimes the grandfather would make small round cheeses on those
days, and there was no greater pleasure for Heidi than to see him stir
the butter with his bare arms. When the wind would howl through the
fir-trees on those stormy days, Heidi would run out to the grove,
thrilled and happy by the wondrous roaring in the branches. The sun
had lost its vigor, and the child had to put on her shoes and
stockings and her little dress.
The weather got colder and colder, and when Peter came up in the
morning, he would blow into his hands, he was so frozen. At last even
Peter could not come any more, for a deep snow had fallen over night.
Heidi stood at the window, watching the snow falling down. It kept on
snowing till it reached the windows; still it did not stop, and soon
the windows could not be opened, and they were all shut in. When it
had lasted for several days, Heidi thought that it would soon cover
up the cottage. It finally stopped, and the grandfather went out to
shovel the snow away from the door and windows, piling it up high here
and there. In the afternoon the two were sitting near the fire when
noisy steps were heard outside and the door was pushed open. It was
Peter, who had come up to see Heidi. Muttering, "Good-evening," he
went up to the fire. His face was beaming, and Heidi had to laugh when
she saw little waterfalls trickling down from his person, for all the
ice and snow had melted in the great heat.
The grandfather now asked Peter how he got along in school. Heidi was
so interested that she asked him a hundred questions. Poor Peter, who
was not an easy talker, found himself in great difficulty answering
the little girl's inquiries, but at least it gave him leisure to dry
his clothes.
During this conversation the grandfather's eyes had been twinkling,
and at last he said to the boy: "Now that you have been under fire,
general, you need some strengthening. Come and join us at supper."
With that the old man prepared a meal which amply satisfied Peter's
appetite. It had begun to get dark, and Peter knew that it was time to
go. He had said good-bye and thank you, when turning to Heidi he
remarked:
"I'll come next Sunday, if I may. By the way, Heidi, grandmother asked
me to tell you that she would love to see you."
Heidi immediately approved of this idea, and her first word next
morning was: "Grandfather, I must go down to grandmother. She is
expecting me."
Four days later the sun was shining and the tight-packed frozen snow
was crackling under every step. Heidi was sitting at the dinner-table,
imploring the old man to let her make the visit then, when he got up,
and fetching down her heavy cover, told her to follow him. They went
out into the glistening snow; no sound was heard and the snow-laden
fir-trees shone and glittered in the sun. Heidi in her transport was
running to and fro: "Grandfather, come out! Oh, look at the trees!
They are all covered with silver and gold," she called to the
grandfather, who had just come out of his workshop with a wide sled.
Wrapping the child up in her cover, he put her on the sled, holding
her fast. Off they started at such a pace that Heidi shouted for joy,
for she seemed to be flying like a bird. The sled had stopped in front
of Peter's hut, and grandfather said: "Go in. When it gets dark, start
on your way home." When he had unwrapped her, he turned homewards with
his sled.
[Illustration: OFF THEY STARTED AT SUCH A PACE THAT HEIDI SHOUTED FOR
JOY]
Opening the door, Heidi found herself in a tiny, dark kitchen, and
going through another door, she entered a narrow chamber. Near a table
a woman was seated, busy with mending Peter's coat, which Heidi had
recognized immediately. A bent old woman was sitting in a corner, and
Heidi, approaching her at once, said: "How do you do, grandmother? I
have come now, and I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long!"
Lifting her head, the grandmother sought for Heidi's hand. Feeling it
thoughtfully, she said: "Are you the little girl who lives up with the
uncle? Is your name Heidi?"
"Yes," Heidi replied. "The grandfather just brought me down in the
sled."
"How is it possible? Your hands are as warm as toast! Brigida, did the
uncle really come down with the child?"
Brigida, Peter's mother, had gotten up to look at the child. She said:
"I don't know if he did, but I don't think so. She probably doesn't
know."
Heidi, looking up, said quite decidedly: "I know that grandfather
wrapped me up in a cover when we coasted down together."
"Peter was right after all," said the grandmother. "We never thought
the child would live more than three weeks with him. Brigida, tell me
what she looks like."
"She has Adelheid's fine limbs and black eyes, and curly hair like
Tobias and the old man. I think she looks like both of them."
While the women were talking, Heidi had been taking in everything.
Then she said: "Grandmother, look at the shutter over there. It is
hanging loose. If grandfather were here, he would fasten it. It will
break the window-pane! Just look at it."
"What a sweet child you are," said the grandmother tenderly. "I can
hear it, but I cannot see it, child. This cottage rattles and creaks,
and when the wind blows, it comes in through every chink. Some day the
whole house will break to pieces and fall on top of us. If only Peter
knew how to mend it! We have no one else."
"Why, grandmother, can't you see the shutter?" asked Heidi.
"Child, I cannot see anything," lamented the old woman.
"Can you see it when I open the shutter to let in the light?"
"No, no, not even then. Nobody can ever show me the light again."
"But you can see when you go out into the snow, where everything is
bright. Come with me, grandmother, I'll show you!" and Heidi, taking
the old woman by the hand, tried to lead her out. Heidi was frightened
and got more anxious all the time.
"Just let me stay here, child. Everything is dark for me, and my poor
eyes can neither see the snow nor the light."
"But grandmother, does it not get light in the summer, when the sun
shines down on the mountains to say good-night, setting them all
aflame?"
"No, child, I can never see the fiery mountains any more. I have to
live in darkness, always."
Heidi burst out crying now and sobbed aloud. "Can nobody make it light
for you? Is there nobody who can do it, grandmother? Nobody?"
The grandmother tried all possible means to comfort the child; it
wrung her heart to see her terrible distress. It was awfully hard for
Heidi to stop crying when she had once begun, for she cried so seldom.
The grandmother said: "Heidi, let me tell you something. People who
cannot see love to listen to friendly words. Sit down beside me and
tell me all about yourself. Talk to me about your grandfather, for it
has been long since I have heard anything about him. I used to know
him very well."
Heidi suddenly wiped away her tears, for she had had a cheering
thought. "Grandmother, I shall tell grandfather about it, and I am
sure he can make it light for you. He can mend your little house and
stop the rattling."
The old woman remained silent, and Heidi, with the greatest vivacity,
began to describe her life with the grandfather. Listening
attentively, the two women would say to each other sometimes: "Do you
hear what she says about the uncle? Did you listen?"
Heidi's tale was interrupted suddenly by a great thumping on the door;
and who should come in but Peter. No sooner had he seen Heidi, than he
smiled, opening his round eyes as wide as possible. Heidi called,
"Good-evening, Peter!"
"Is it really time for him to come home!" exclaimed Peter's
grandmother. "How quickly the time has flown. Good-evening, little
Peter; how is your reading going?"
"Just the same," the boy replied.
"Oh, dear, I was hoping for a change at last. You are nearly twelve
years old, my boy."
"Why should there be a change?" inquired Heidi with greatest interest.
"I am afraid he'll never learn it after all. On the shelf over there
is an old prayer-book with beautiful songs. I have forgotten them all,
for I do not hear them any more. I longed that Peter should read them
to me some day, but he will never be able to!"
Peter's mother got up from her work now, saying, "I must make a light.
The afternoon has passed and now it's getting dark."
When Heidi heard those words, she started, and holding out her hand to
all, she said: "Good-night. I have to go, for it is getting dark." But
the anxious grandmother called out: "Wait, child, don't go up alone!
Go with her, Peter, and take care that she does not fall. Don't let
her get cold, do you hear? Has Heidi a shawl?"
"I haven't, but I won't be cold," Heidi called back, for she had
already escaped through the door. She ran so fast that Peter could
hardly follow her. The old woman frettingly called out: "Brigida, run
after her. Get a warm shawl, she'll freeze in this cold night. Hurry
up!" Brigida obeyed. The children had hardly climbed any distance,
when they saw the old man coming and with a few vigorous steps he
stood beside them.
"I am glad you kept you word, Heidi," he said; and packing her into
her cover, he started up the hill, carrying the child in his arms.
Brigida had come in time to see it, and told the grandmother what she
had witnessed.
"Thank God, thank God!" the old woman said. "I hope she'll come again;
she has done me so much good! What a soft heart she has, the darling,
and how nicely she can talk." All evening the grandmother said to
herself, "If only he lets her come again! I have something to look
forward to in this world now, thank God!"
Heidi could hardly wait before they reached the cottage. She had tried
to talk on the way, but no sound could be heard through the heavy
cover. As soon as they were inside the hut she began: "Grandfather, we
must take some nails and a hammer down tomorrow; a shutter is loose in
grandmother's house and many other places shake. Everything rattles in
her house."
"Is that so? Who says we must?"
"Nobody told me, but I know," Heidi replied. "Everything is loose in
the house, and poor grandmother told me she was afraid that the house
might tumble down. And grandfather, she cannot see the light. Can you
help her and make it light for her? How terrible it must be to be
afraid in the dark and nobody there to help you! Oh, please,
grandfather, do something to help her! I know you can."
Heidi had been clinging to her grandfather and looking up to him with
trusting eyes. At last he said, glancing down: "All right, child,
we'll see that it won't rattle any more. We can do it tomorrow."
Heidi was so overjoyed at these words that she danced around the room
shouting: "We'll do it tomorrow! We can do it tomorrow!"
The grandfather, keeping his word, took Heidi down the following day
with the same instructions as before. After Heidi had disappeared, he
went around the house inspecting it.
The grandmother, in her joy at seeing the child again, had stopped the
wheel and called: "Here is the child again! She has come again!"
Heidi, grasping her outstretched hands, sat herself on a low stool at
the old woman's feet and began to chat. Suddenly violent blows were
heard outside; the grandmother in her fright nearly upset the
spinning-wheel and screamed: "Oh, God, it has come at last. The hut is
tumbling down!"
"Grandmother, don't be frightened," said the child, while she put her
arms around her. "Grandfather is just fastening the shutter and fixing
everything for you."
"Is it possible? Has God not forgotten us after all? Brigida, have you
heard it? Surely that is a hammer. Ask him to come in a moment, if it
is he, for I must thank him."
When Brigida went out, she found the old man busy with putting a new
beam along the wall. Approaching him, she said: "Mother and I wish you
a good-afternoon. We are very much obliged to you for doing us such a
service, and mother would like to see you. There are few that would
have done it, uncle, and how can we thank you?"
"That will do," he interrupted. "I know what your opinion about me is.
Go in, for I can find what needs mending myself."
Brigida obeyed, for the uncle had a way that nobody could oppose. All
afternoon the uncle hammered around; he even climbed up on the roof,
where much was missing. At last he had to stop, for the last nail was
gone from his pocket. The darkness had come in the meantime, and
Heidi was ready to go up with him, packed warmly in his arms.
Thus the winter passed. Sunshine had come again into the blind woman's
life, and made her days less dark and dreary. Early every morning she
would begin to listen for Heidi's footsteps, and when the door was
opened and the child ran in, the grandmother exclaimed every time more
joyfully: "Thank God, she has come again!"
Heidi would talk about her life, and make the grandmother smile and
laugh, and in that way the hours flew by. In former times the old
woman had always sighed: "Brigida, is the day not over yet?" but now
she always exclaimed after Heidi's departure: "How quickly the
afternoon has gone by. Don't you think so, too, Brigida?" Her daughter
had to assent, for Heidi had long ago won her heart. "If only God will
spare us the child!" the grandmother would often say. "I hope the
uncle will always be kind, as he is now."--"Does Heidi look well,
Brigida?" was a frequent question, which always got a reassuring
answer.
Heidi also became very fond of the old grandmother, and when the
weather was fair, she visited her every day that winter. Whenever the
child remembered that the grandmother was blind, she would get very
sad; her only comfort was that her coming brought such happiness. The
grandfather soon had mended the cottage; often he would take down big
loads of timber, which he used to good purpose. The grandmother vowed
that no rattling could be heard any more, and that, thanks to the
uncle's kindness, she slept better that winter than she had done for
many a year.
[Illustration]
V
TWO VISITORS
Two winters had nearly passed. Heidi was happy, for the spring was
coming again, with the soft delicious wind that made the fir-trees
roar. Soon she would be able to go up to the pasture, where blue and
yellow flowers greeted her at every step. She was nearly eight years
old, and had learned to take care of the goats, who ran after her like
little dogs. Several times the village teacher had sent word by Peter
that the child was wanted in school, but the old man had not paid any
attention to the message and had kept her with him as before. It was a
beautiful morning in March. The snow had melted on the slopes, and was
going fast. Snowdrops were peeping through the ground, which seemed to
be getting ready for spring. Heidi was running to and fro before the
door, when she suddenly saw an old gentleman, dressed in black,
standing beside her. As she appeared frightened, he said kindly: "You
must not be afraid of me, for I love children. Give me your hand,
Heidi, and tell me where your grandfather is."
"He is inside, making round wooden spoons," the child replied, opening
the door while she spoke.
It was the old pastor of the village, who had known the grandfather
years ago. After entering, he approached the old man, saying:
"Good-morning, neighbor."
The old man got up, surprised, and offering a seat to the visitor,
said: "Good-morning, Mr. Parson. Here is a wooden chair, if it is good
enough."
Sitting down, the parson said: "It is long since I have seen you,
neighbor. I have come to-day to talk over a matter with you. I am sure
you can guess what it is about."
The clergyman here looked at Heidi, who was standing near the door.
"Heidi, run out to see the goats," said the grandfather, "and bring
them some salt; you can stay till I come."
Heidi disappeared on the spot. "The child should have come to school a
year ago," the parson went on to say. "Didn't you get the teacher's
warning? What do you intend to do with the child?"
"I do not want her to go to school," said the old man, unrelentingly.
"What do you want the child to be?"
"I want her to be free and happy as a bird!"
"But she is human, and it is high time for her to learn something. I
have come now to tell you about it, so that you can make your plans.
She must come to school next winter; remember that."
"I shan't do it, pastor!" was the reply.
"Do you think there is no way?" the clergyman replied, a little hotly.
"You know the world, for you have travelled far. What little sense you
show!"
"You think I am going to send this delicate child to school in every
storm and weather!" the old man said excitedly. "It is a two hours'
walk, and I shall not let her go; for the wind often howls so that it
chokes me if I venture out. Did you know Adelheid, her mother? She was
a sleep-walker, and had fainting-fits. Nobody shall compel me to let
her go; I will gladly fight it out in court."
"You are perfectly right," said the clergyman kindly. "You could not
send her to school from here. Why don't you come down to live among us
again? You are leading a strange life here; I wonder how you can keep
the child warm in winter."
"She has young blood and a good cover. I know where to find good wood,
and all winter I keep a fire going. I couldn't live in the village,
for the people there and I despise each other; we had better keep
apart."
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