“Adelaide, I know of only one punishment which will perhaps make you alive to your ill conduct, for you are an utter little barbarian, but we will see if we cannot tame you so that you shall not be guilty of such deeds again, by putting you in a dark cellar with the rats and black beetles.”
Heidi listened in silence and surprise to her sentence, for she had never seen a cellar such as was now described; the place known at her grandfather’s as the cellar, where the fresh made cheeses and the new milk were kept, was a pleasant and inviting place; neither did she know at all what rats and black beetles were like.
But now Clara interrupted in great distress. “No, no, Fraulein Rottenmeier, you must wait till papa comes; he has written to say that he will soon be home, and then I will tell him everything, and he will say what is to be done with Heidi.”
Fraulein Rottenmeier could not do anything against this superior authority, especially as the father was really expected very shortly. She rose and said with some displeasure, “As you will, Clara, but I too shall have something to say to Herr Sesemann.” And with that she left the room.
Two days now went by without further disturbance. Fraulein Rottenmeier, however, could not recover her equanimity; she was perpetually reminded by Heidi’s presence of the deception that had been played upon her, and it seemed to her that ever since the child had come into the house everything had been topsy- turvy, and she could not bring things into proper order again. Clara had grown much more cheerful; she no longer found time hang heavy during the lesson hours, for Heidi was continually making a diversion of some kind or other. She jumbled all her letters up together and seemed quite unable to learn them, and when the tutor tried to draw her attention to their different shapes, and to help her by showing her that this was like a little horn, or that like a bird’s bill, she would suddenly exclaim in a joyful voice, “That is a goat!” “That is a bird of prey!” For the tutor’s descriptions suggested all kinds of pictures to her mind, but left her still incapable of the alphabet. In the later afternoons Heidi always sat with Clara, and then she would give the latter many and long descriptions of the mountain and of her life upon it, and the burning longing to return would become so overpowering that she always finished with the words, “Now I must go home! to-morrow I must really go!” But Clara would try to quiet her, and tell Heidi that she must wait till her father returned, and then they would see what was to be done. And if Heidi gave in each time and seemed quickly to regain her good spirits, it was because of a secret delight she had in the thought that every day added two more white rolls to the number she was collecting for grandmother; for she always pocketed the roll placed beside her plate at dinner and supper, feeling that she could not bear to eat them, knowing that grandmother had no white bread and could hardly eat the black bread which was so hard. After dinner Heidi had to sit alone in her room for a couple of hours, for she understood now that she might not run about outside at Frankfurt as she did on the mountain, and so she did not attempt it. Any conversation with Sebastian in the dining- room was also forbidden her, and as to Tinette, she kept out of her way, and never thought of speaking to her, for Heidi was quite aware that the maid looked scornfully at her and always spoke to her in a mocking voice. So Heidi had plenty of time from day to day to sit and picture how everything at home was now turning green, and how the yellow flowers were shining in the sun, and how all around lay bright in the warm sunshine, the snow and the rocks, and the whole wide valley, and Heidi at times could hardly contain herself for the longing to be back home again. And Dete had told her that she could go home whenever she liked. So it came about one day that Heidi felt she could not bear it any longer, and in haste she tied all the rolls up in her red shawl, put on her straw hat, and went downstairs. But just as she reached the hall-door she met Fraulein Rottenmeier herself, just returning from a walk, which put a stop to Heidi’s journey.
Fraulein Rottenmeier stood still a moment, looking at her from top to toe in blank astonishment, her eye resting particularly on the red bundle. Then she broke out,—
“What have you dressed yourself like that for? What do you mean by this? Have I not strictly forbidden you to go running about in the streets? And here you are ready to start off again, and going out looking like a beggar.”
“I was not going to run about, I was going home,” said Heidi, frightened.
“What are you talking about! Going home! You want to go home?” exclaimed Fraulein Rottenmeier, her anger rising. “To run away like that! What would Herr Sesemann say if he knew! Take care that he never hears of this! And what is the matter with his house, I should like to know! Have you not been better treated than you deserved? Have you wanted for a thing? Have you ever in your life before had such a house to live in, such a table, or so many to wait upon you? Have you?”
“No,” replied Heidi.
“I should think not indeed!” continued the exasperated lady. “You have everything you can possibly want here, and you are an ungrateful little thing; it’s because you are too well off and comfortable that you have nothing to do but think what naughty thing you can do next!”
Then Heidi’s feelings got the better of her, and she poured forth her trouble. “Indeed I only want to go home, for if I stay so long away Snowflake will begin crying again, and grandmother is waiting for me, and Greenfinch will get beaten, because I am not there to give Peter any cheese, and I can never see how the sun says good-night to the mountains; and if the great bird were to fly over Frankfurt he would croak louder than ever about people huddling all together and teaching each other bad things, and not going to live up on the rocks, where it is so much better.”
“Heaven have mercy on us, the child is out of her mind!” cried Fraulein Rottenmeier, and she turned in terror and went quickly up the steps, running violently against Sebastian in her hurry. “Go and bring that unhappy little creature in at once,” she ordered him, putting her hand to her forehead which she had bumped against his.
Sebastian did as he was told, rubbing his own head as he went, for he had received a still harder blow.
Heidi had not moved, she stood with her eyes aflame and trembling all over with inward agitation.
“What, got into trouble again?” said Sebastian in a cheerful voice; but when he looked more closely at Heidi and saw that she did not move, he put his hand kindly on her shoulder, and said, trying to comfort her, “There, there, don’t take it to heart so much; keep up your spirits, that is the great thing! She has nearly made a hole in my head, but don’t you let her bully you.” Then seeing that Heidi still did not stir, “We must go; she ordered me to take you in.”
Heidi now began mounting the stairs, but with a slow, crawling step, very unlike her usual manner. Sebastian felt quite sad as he watched her, and as he followed her up he kept trying to encourage her. “Don’t you give in! don’t let her make you unhappy! You keep up your courage! Why we’ve got such a sensible little miss that she has never cried once since she was here; many at that age cry a good dozen times a day. The kittens are enjoying themselves very much up in their home; they jump about all over the place and behave as if they were little mad things. Later we will go up and see them, when Fraulein is out of the way, shall we?”
Heidi gave a little nod of assent, but in such a joyless manner that it went to Sebastian’s heart, and he followed her with sympathetic eyes as she crept away to her room.
At supper that evening Fraulein Rottenmeier did not speak, but she cast watchful looks towards Heidi as if expecting her at any minute to break out in some extraordinary way; but Heidi sat without moving or eating; all that she did was to hastily hide her roll in her pocket.
When the tutor arrived next morning, Fraulein Rottenmeier drew him privately aside, and confided her fear to him that the change of air and the new mode of life and unaccustomed surroundings had turned Heidi’s head; then she told him of the incident of the day before, and of Heidi’s strange speech. B
ut the tutor assured her she need not be in alarm; he had already become aware that the child was somewhat eccentric, but otherwise quite right in her mind, and he was sure that, with careful treatment and education, the right balance would be restored, and it was this he was striving after. He was the more convinced of this by what he now heard, and by the fact that he had so far failed to teach her the alphabet, Heidi seeming unable to understand the letters.
Fraulein Rottenmeier was considerably relieved by his words, and released the tutor to his work. In the course of the afternoon the remembrance of Heidi’s appearance the day before, as she was starting out on her travels, suddenly returned to the lady, and she made up her mind that she would supplement the child’s clothing with various garments from Clara’s wardrobe, so as to give her a decent appearance when Herr Sesemann returned. She confided her intention to Clara, who was quite willing to make over any number of dresses and hats to Heidi; so the lady went upstairs to overhaul the child’s belongings and see what was to be kept and what thrown away. She returned, however, in the course of a few minutes with an expression of horror upon her face.
“What is this, Adelaide, that I find in your wardrobe!” she exclaimed. “I never heard of any one doing such a thing before! In a cupboard meant for clothes, Adelaide, what do I see at the bottom but a heap of rolls! Will you believe it, Clara, bread in a wardrobe! a whole pile of bread! Tinette,” she called to that young woman, who was in the dining-room, “go upstairs and take away all those rolls out of Adelaide’s cupboard and the old straw hat on the table.”
“No! no!” screamed Heidi. “I must keep the hat, and the rolls are for grandmother,” and she was rushing to stop Tinette when Fraulein Rottenmeier took hold of her. “You will stop here, and all that bread and rubbish shall be taken to the place they belong to,” she said in a determined tone as she kept her hand on the child to prevent her running forward.
Then Heidi in despair flung herself down on Clara’s couch and broke into a wild fit of weeping, her crying becoming louder and more full of distress, every minute, while she kept on sobbing out at intervals, “Now grandmother’s’ bread is all gone! They were all for grandmother, and now they are taken away, and grandmother won’t have one,” and she wept as if her heart would break. Fraulein Rottenmeier ran out of the room. Clara was distressed and alarmed at the child’s crying. “Heidi, Heidi,” she said imploringly, “pray do not cry so! listen to me; don’t be so unhappy; look now, I promise you that you shall have just as many rolls, or more, all fresh and new to take to grandmother when you go home; yours would have been hard and stale by then. Come, Heidi, do not cry any more!”
Heidi could not get over her sobs for a long time; she would never have been able to leave off crying at all if it had not been for Clara’s promise, which comforted her. But to make sure that she could depend upon it she kept on saying to Clara, her voice broken with her gradually subsiding sobs, “Will you give me as many, quite as many, as I had, for grandmother?” And Clara assured her each time that she would give her as many, “or more,” she added, “only be happy again.”
Heidi appeared at supper with her eyes red with weeping, and when she saw her roll she could not suppress a sob. But she made an effort to control herself, for she knew she must sit quietly at table. Whenever Sebastian could catch her eye this evening he made all sorts of strange signs, pointing to his own head and then to hers, and giving little nods as much as to say, “Don’t you be unhappy! I have got it all safe for you.”
When Heidi was going to get into bed that night she found her old straw hat lying under the counterpane. She snatched it up with delight, made it more out of shape still in her joy, and then, after wrapping a handkerchief round it, she stuck it in a corner of the cupboard as far back as she could.
It was Sebastian who had hidden it there for her; he had been in the dining-room when Tinette was called, and had heard all that went on with the child and the latter’s loud weeping. So he followed Tinette, and when she came out of Heidi’s room carrying the rolls and the hat, he caught up the hat and said, “I will see to this old thing.” He was genuinely glad to have been able to save it for Heidi, and that was the meaning of his encouraging signs to her at supper.
CHAPTER IX. HERR SESEMANN HEARS OF THINGS WHICH ARE NEW TO HIM
A few days after these events there was great commotion and much running up and down stairs in Herr Sesemann’s house. The master had just returned, and Sebastian and Tinette were busy carrying up one package after another from the carriage, for Herr Sesemann always brought back a lot of pretty things for his home. He himself had not waited to do anything before going in to see his daughter. Heidi was sitting beside her, for it was late afternoon, when the two were always together. Father and daughter greeted each other with warm affection, for they were deeply attached to one another. Then he held out his hand to Heidi, who had stolen away into the corner, and said kindly to her, “And this is our little Swiss girl; come and shake hands with me! That’s right! Now, tell me, are Clara and you good friends with one another, or do you get angry and quarrel, and then cry and make it up, and then start quarreling again on the next occasion?”
“No, Clara is always kind to me,” answered Heidi.
“And Heidi,” put in Clara quickly, “has not once tried to quarrel.”
“That’s all right, I am glad to hear it,” said her father, as he rose from his chair. “But you must excuse me, Clara, for I want my dinner; I have had nothing to eat all day. Afterwards I will show you all the things I have brought home with me.”
He found Fraulein Rottenmeier in the dining-room superintending the preparation for his meal, and when he had taken his place she sat down opposite to him, looking the every embodiment of bad news, so that he turned to her and said, “What am I to expect, Fraulein Rottenmeier? You greet me with an expression of countenance that quite frightens me. What is the matter? Clara seems cheerful enough.”
“Herr Sesemann,” began the lady in a solemn voice, “it is a matter which concerns Clara; we have been frightfully imposed upon.”
“Indeed, in what way?” asked Herr Sesemann as he went on calmly drinking his wine.
“We had decided, as you remember, to get a companion for Clara, and as I knew how anxious you were to have only those who were well-behaved and nicely brought up about her, I thought I would look for a little Swiss girl, as I hoped to find such a one as I have often read about, who, born as it were of the mountain air, lives and moves without touching the earth.”
“Still I think even a Swiss child would have to touch the earth if she wanted to go anywhere,” remarked Herr Sesemann, “otherwise they would have been given wings instead of feet.”
“Ah, Herr Sesemann, you know what I mean,” continued Fraulein Rottenmeier. “I mean one so at home among the living creatures of the high, pure mountain regions, that she would be like some idealistic being from another world among us.”
“And what could Clara do with such an idealistic being as you describe, Fraulein Rottenmeier.”
“I am not joking, Herr Sesemann, the matter is a more serious one than you think; I have been shockingly, disgracefully imposed upon.”
“But how? what is there shocking and disgraceful? I see nothing shocking in the child,” remarked Herr Sesemann quietly.
“If you only knew of one thing she has done, if you only knew of the kind of people and animals she has brought into the house during your absence! The tutor can tell you more about that.”
“Animals? what am I to understand by animals, Fraulein
Rottenmeier?”
“It is past understanding; the whole behavior of the child would be past understanding, if it were not that at times she is evidently not in her right mind.”
Herr Sesemann had attached very little importance to what was told him up till now—but not in her right mind! that was more serious and might be prejudicial to his own child. Herr
Sesemann looked very narrowly at the lady opposite to assure himself that the mental aberration was not on her side. At that moment the door opened and the tutor was announced.
“Ah! here is some one,” exclaimed Herr Sesemann, “who will help to clear up matters for me. Take a seat,” he continued, as he held out his hand to the tutor. “You will drink a cup of coffee with me—no ceremony, I pray! And now tell me, what is the matter with this child that has come to be a companion to my daughter? What is this strange thing I hear about her bringing animals into the house, and is she in her right senses?”
The tutor felt he must begin with expressing his pleasure at Herr Sesemann’s return, and with explaining that he had come in on purpose to give him welcome, but Herr Sesemann begged him to explain without delay the meaning of all he had heard about Heidi. The tutor started in his usual style. “If I must give my opinion about this little girl, I should like first to state that, if on one side, there is a lack of development which has been caused by the more or less careless way in which she has been brought up, or rather, by the neglect of her education, when young, and by the solitary life she has led on the mountain, which is not wholly to be condemned; on the contrary, such a life has undoubtedly some advantages in it, if not allowed to overstep a certain limit of time—”
“My good friend,” interrupted Herr Sesemann, “you are giving yourself more trouble than you need. I only want to know if the child has caused you alarm by any animals she has brought into the house, and what your opinion is altogether as to her being a fit companion or not for my daughter?”
“I should not like in any way to prejudice you against her,” began the tutor once more; “for if on the one hand there is a certain inexperience of the ways of society, owing to the uncivilised life she led up to the time of her removal to Frankfurt, on the other hand she is endowed with certain good qualities, and, taken on the whole—”
The Classic Children's Literature Collection: 39 Classic Novels Page 79