Heidi (33 page)

The following days were some of the most joyous that Clara had
spent on the mountain. She awoke each morning with a happy voice
within her crying, "I am well now! I am well now! I shan't have
to go about in a chair, I can walk by myself like other people."

Then came the walking, and every day she found it easier and was
able to go a longer distance. The movement gave her such an
appetite that the grandfather cut his bread and butter a little
thicker each day, and was well pleased to see it disappear. He
now brought out with it a large jugful of the foaming milk and
filled her little bowl over and over again. And so another week
went by and the day came which was to bring grandmamma up the
mountain for her second visit.

Grandmamma wrote the day before her arrival to let the children
know that they might expect her without fail. Peter brought up
the letter early the following morning. Grandfather and the
children were already outside and the goats were awaiting him,
shaking their heads frolicsomely in the fresh morning air, while
the children stroked them and wished them a pleasant journey up
the mountain. Uncle stood near, looking now at the fresh faces
of the children, now at his well-kept goats, with a smile on his
face, evidently well pleased with the sight of both.

As Peter neared the group his steps slackened, and the instant
he had handed the letter to Uncle he turned quickly away as if
frightened, and as he went he gave a hasty glance behind him, as
if the thing he feared was pursuing him, and then he gave a leap
and ran off up the mountain.

"Grandfather," said Heidi, who had been watching him with
astonished eyes, "why does Peter always behave now like the
Great Turk when he thinks somebody is after him with a stick; he
turns and shakes his head and goes off with a bound just like
that?"

"Perhaps Peter fancies he sees the stick which he so well
deserves coming after him," answered grandfather.

Peter ran up the first slope without a pause; when he was well
out of sight, however, he stood still and looked suspiciously
about him. Suddenly he gave a jump and looked behind him with a
terrified expression, as if some one had caught hold of him by
the nape of the neck; for Peter expected every minute that the
police-constable from Frankfurt would leap out upon him from
behind some bush or hedge. The longer his suspense lasted, the
more frightened and miserable he became; he did not know a
moment's peace.

Heidi now set about tidying the hut, as grandmamma must find
everything clean and in good order when she arrived.

Clara looked on amused and interested to watch the busy Heidi at
her work.

So the morning soon went by, and grandmamma might now be
expected at any minute. The children dressed themselves and went
and sat together outside on the seat ready to receive her.

Grandfather joined them, that they might see the splendid bunch
of blue gentians which he had been up the mountain to gather,
and the children exclaimed with delight at the beauty of the
flowers as they shone in the morning sun. The grandfather then
carried them indoors. Heidi jumped up from time to time to see if
there was any sign of grandmamma's approach.

At last she saw the procession winding up the mountain just in
the order she had expected. First there was the guide, then the
white horse with grandmamma mounted upon it, and last of all the
porter with a heavy bundle on his back, for grandmamma would not
think of going up the mountain without a full supply of wraps
and rugs.

Nearer and nearer wound the procession; at last it reached the
top and grandmamma was there looking down on the children from
her horse. She no sooner saw them, however, sitting side by
side, than she began quickly dismounting, as she cried out in a
shocked tone of voice, "Why is this? why are you not lying in
your chair, Clara? What are you all thinking about?" But even
before she had got close to them she threw up her hands in
astonishment, exclaiming further, "Is it really you, dear child?
Why, your cheeks have grown quite round and rosy! I should hardly
have known you again!" And she was hastening forward to embrace
her, when Heidi slipped down from the seat, and Clara leaning on
her shoulder, the two children began walking along quite coolly
and naturally. Then indeed grandmamma was surprised, or rather
alarmed, for she thought at first that it must be some unheard-
of proceeding of Heidi's devising.

But no—Clara was actually walking steadily and uprightly beside
Heidi—and now the two children turned and came towards her with
beaming faces and rosy cheeks. Laughing and crying she ran to
them and embraced first Clara and then Heidi, and then Clara
again, unable to speak for joy. All at once she caught sight of
Uncle standing by the seat and looking on smiling at the
meeting. She took Clara's arm in hers, and with continual
expressions of delight at the fact that the child could now
really walk about with her, she went up to the old man, and then
letting go Clara's arm she seized his hands.

"My dear Uncle! my dear Uncle! how much we have to thank you
for! It is all your doing! it is your caring and nursing—-"

"And God's good sun and mountain air," he interrupted her,
smiling.

"Yes, and don't forget the beautiful milk I have," put in Clara.
"Grandmamma, you can't think what a quantity of goat's milk I
drink, and how nice it is!"

"I can see that by your cheeks, child," answered grandmamma. "I
really should not have known you; you have grown quite strong
and plump, and taller too; I never hoped or expected to see you
look like that. I cannot take my eyes off you, for I can hardly
yet believe it. But now I must telegraph without delay to my son
in Paris, and tell him he must come here at once. I shall not say
why; it will be the greatest happiness he has ever known. My
dear Uncle, how can I send a telegram; have you dismissed the men
yet?"

"They have gone," he answered, "but if you are in a hurry I will
fetch Peter, and he can take it for you."

Grandmamma thanked him, for she was anxious that the good news
should not be kept from her son a day longer than was possible.

So Uncle went aside a little way and blew such a resounding
whistle through his fingers that he awoke a responsive echo
among the rocks far overhead. He had not to wait many minutes
before Peter came running down in answer, for he knew the sound
of Uncle's whistle. Peter arrived, looking as white as a ghost,
for he quite thought Uncle was sending for him to give him up.
But as it was he only had a written paper given him with
instructions to take it down at once to the post-office at
Dorfli; Uncle would settle for the payment later, as it was not
safe to give Peter too much to look after.

Peter went off with the paper in his hand, feeling some relief
of mind for the present, for as Uncle had not whistled for him in
order to give him up it was evident that no policeman had yet
arrived.

So now they could all sit down in peace to their dinner round
the table in front of the hut, and grandmamma was given a
detailed account of all that had taken place. How grandfather had
made Clara try first to stand and then to move her feet a little
every day, and how they had settled for the day's excursion up
the mountain and the chair had been blown away. How Clara's
desire to see the flowers had induced her to take the first walk,
and so by degrees one thing had led to another. The recital took
some time, for grandmamma continually interrupted it with fresh
exclamations of surprise and thankfulness: "It hardly seems
possible! I can scarcely believe it is not all a dream! Are we
really awake, and are all sitting here by the mountain hut, and
is that round-faced, healthy-looking child my poor little, white,
sickly Clara?"

And Clara and Heidi could not get over their delight at the
success of the surprise they had so carefully arranged for
grandmamma and at the latter's continued astonishment.

Meanwhile Herr Sesemann, who had finished his business in Paris,
had also been preparing a surprise. Without saying a word to his
mother he got into the train one sunny morning and travelled
that day to Basle; the next morning he continued his journey, for
a great longing had seized him to see his little daughter from
whom he had been separated the whole summer. He arrived at Ragatz
a few hours after his mother had left. When he heard that she had
that very day started for the mountain, he immediately hired a
carriage and drove off to Mayenfeld; here he found that he could
if he liked drive on as far as Dorfli, which he did, as he
thought the walk up from that place would be as long as he cared
for.

Herr Sesemann found he was right, for the climb up the mountain,
as it was, proved long and fatiguing to him. He went on and on,
but still no hut came in sight, and yet he knew there was one
where Peter lived half way up, for the path had been described
to him over and over again.

There were traces of climbers to be seen on all sides; the
narrow footpaths seemed to run in every direction, and Herr
Sesemann began to wonder if he was on the right one, and whether
the hut lay perhaps on the other side of the mountain. He looked
round to see if any one was in sight of whom he could ask the
way; but far and wide there was not a soul to be seen or a sound
to be heard. Only at moments the mountain wind whistled through
the air, and the insects hummed in the sunshine or a happy bird
sang out from the branches of a solitary larch tree. Herr
Sesemann stood still for a while to let the cool Alpine wind blow
on his hot face. But now some one came running down the mountain-
side—it was Peter with the telegram in his hand. He ran straight
down the steep slope, not following the path on which Herr
Sesemann was standing. As soon as the latter caught sight of him
he beckoned to him to come. Peter advanced towards him slowly and
timidly, with a sort of sidelong movement, as if he could only
move one leg properly and had to drag the other after him. "Hurry
up, lad," called Herr Sesemann, and when Peter was near enough,
"Tell me," he said, "is this the way to the hut where the old man
and the child Heidi live, and where the visitors from Frankfurt
are staying?"

A low sound of fear was the only answer he received, as Peter
turned to run away in such precipitous haste that he fell head
over heels several times, and went rolling and bumping down the
slope in involuntary bounds, just in the same way as the chair,
only that Peter fortunately did not fall to pieces as that had
done. Only the telegram came to grief, and that was torn into
fragments and flew away.

"How extraordinarily timid these mountain dwellers are!" thought
Herr Sesemann to himself, for he quite believed that it was the
sight of a stranger that had made such an impression on this
unsophisticated child of the mountains.

After watching Peter's violent descent towards the valley for a
few minutes he continued his journey.

Peter, meanwhile, with all his efforts, could not stop himself,
but went rolling on, and still tumbling head over heels at
intervals in a most remarkable manner.

But this was not the most terrible part of his sufferings at the
moment, for far worse was the fear and horror that possessed
him, feeling sure, as he did now, that the policeman had really
come over for him from Frankfurt. He had no doubt at all that the
stranger who had asked him the way was the very man himself.
Just as he had rolled to the edge of that last high slope above
Dorfli he was caught in a bush, and at last able to keep himself
from falling any farther. He lay still for a second or two to
recover himself, and to think over matters.

"Well done! another of you come bumping along like this!" said a
voice close to Peter, "and which of you to-morrow is the wind
going to send rolling down like a badly-sewn sack of potatoes?"
It was the baker, who stood there laughing. He had been
strolling out to refresh himself after his hot day's work, and
had watched with amusement as he saw Peter come rolling over and
over in much the same way as the chair.

Peter was on his feet in a moment. He had received a fresh
shock. Without once looking behind him he began hurrying up the
slope again. He would have liked best to go home and creep into
bed, so as to hide himself, for he felt safest when there. But he
had left the goats up above, and Uncle had given him strict
injunctions to make haste back so that they might not be left
too long alone. And he stood more in awe of Uncle than any one,
and would not have dared to disobey him on any account. There was
no help for it, he had to go back, and Peter went on groaning and
limping. He could run no more, for the anguish of mind he had
been through, and the bumping and shaking he had received, were
beginning to tell upon him. And so with lagging steps and groans
he slowly made his way up the mountain.

Shortly after meeting Peter, Herr Sesemann passed the first hut,
and so was satisfied that he was on the right path. He continued
his climb with renewed courage, and at last, after a long and
exhausting walk, he came in sight of his goal. There, only a
little distance farther up, stood the grandfather's home, with
the dark tops of the fir trees waving above its roof.

Herr Sesemann was delighted to have come to the last steep bit
of his journey, in another minute or two he would be with his
little daughter, and he pleased himself with the thought of her
surprise. But the company above had seen his approaching figure
and recognized who it was, and they were preparing something he
little expected as a surprise on their part.

As he stepped on to the space in front of the hut two figures
came towards him. One a tall girl with fair hair and pink cheeks,
leaning on Heidi, whose dark eyes were dancing with joy. Herr
Sesemann suddenly stopped, staring at the two children, and all
at once the tears started to his eyes. What memories arose in his
heart! Just so had Clara's mother looked, the fair-haired girl
with the delicate pink-and-white complexion. Herr Sesemann did
not know if he was awake or dreaming.