Heidi (1899)/Part 1/Chapter 12

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For several days Fräulein Rottenmeier had been going about the house, for the most part, in silence and wrapt in thought. If at dusk she went from one room to another, or through the long corridor, she often looked around her and into the corners, giving a quick glance behind now and then, as if she thought some one might be coming softly after her and, unnoticed, pull her dress. She went alone into the living-rooms only. If she had something to do on the upper floor where the handsomely furnished guest-rooms were situated, or downstairs in the great mysterious hall, in which every step gave a resounding echo, and the old senators, with their big white collars, looked down from the walls so sternly and steadily with their big eyes, she would pretend there was something to carry up or down, and she would summon Tinette and tell her she must come with her. Tinette did exactly the same; if she had any work to do upstairs or down, she would call Sebastian and tell him he was to go with her, for she might have something to carry which she could not manage alone. Strange to say, Sebastian did precisely the same; if he was sent to the remote part of the house, he called up Johann and directed him to accom​pany him, for fear he could not bring what was needed. Each one followed the other quite willingly, although there was really nothing to be carried, and each might have gone alone; but it seemed as if the companion always thought he might soon need the other for the same service. While this was going on upstairs, the cook, who had been in the house for many years, stood below, deep in thought among her pots, and shook her head and sighed:—

"That I should live to see this!"

For some time there had been something strange and uncanny going on in the Sesemann house. Every morning when the servants came down the house door stood wide open, but no one was to be seen anywhere about who could give any account of the matter. The first few times when this happened all the chambers and rooms of the house were anxiously searched to see what had been stolen, for they thought a thief had broken into the house in the night and had escaped with his booty; but such was not the case; not a single thing in the whole house was missing.

At night the door was not only double locked, but also a wooden bar was put across; it made no difference, in the morning the door stood wide open; and no matter how early the servants in their excitement came down, there stood the door open; yet everything round about was wrapt in deep sleep, and the doors and windows in all the other houses were still firmly fastened.

At last Johann and Sebastian took courage, and at Dame Rottenmeier's urgent request, prepared to spend ​the night below in the room adjoining the great hall, to see what would happen.

Fräulein Rottenmeier got out some of Herr Sesemann's weapons and gave them to Sebastian.

The two men sat down on the appointed evening, and after being at first very talkative they became rather sleepy; whereupon they both leaned back in their chairs and were silent. When the old tower clock struck twelve, Sebastian grew bold and called to his companion; but he was not easy to waken; as often as Sebastian called to him he would turn his head from one side of the chair back to the other and go to sleep again. Sebastian now listened eagerly, for he was wide awake again. It was as still as a mouse everywhere; even in the street there was no sound to be heard. Sebastian did not go to sleep again, for it seemed to him uncanny in the deep stillness, and he called Johann in a subdued voice and shook him a little from time to time. Finally, when it had struck one o'clock, Johann woke up and realized why he was sitting in a chair and not lying in his bed. Suddenly he began to be very brave and called out:—

"Now, Sebastian, we must go out and see how things are; you need n't be afraid. Come after me."

Johann opened wide the room door, which had been left ajar, and stepped outside. At the same moment a sharp gust of air blew in from the open house door and put out the light which Johann held in his hand. He rushed back, almost threw Sebastian, who was standing behind him, backwards into the room, then ​dragged him along, closed the door, and in feverish haste turned the key as far as it would go. Then he pulled out his match-box and made a light again. Sebastian did not know just what had happened, for, standing behind the broad-shouldered Johann, he had not so plainly felt the draft of air. But when they could see each other by the light, Sebastian cried out from fright, for Johann was deadly pale and trembled like an aspen leaf.

"What is the matter? What was outside there?" asked Sebastian anxiously.

"The door was as wide open as it could be," gasped Johann, "and there was a white form on the steps; you see, Sebastian, it came up the steps, disappeared, and was gone."

Cold shivers ran down Sebastian's back. Then they sat down very close together and did not stir again until it was morning and people began to be moving in the street. Then they went out together, closed the open door, and went upstairs to tell Fräulein Rottenmeier about their experience. The lady was quite ready to talk, for the expectation of what might happen had kept her from sleeping. As soon as she learned what had occurred she sat down and wrote such a letter to Herr Sesemann as he had never received before. In it she said that her fingers were paralyzed with fright. Herr Sesemann must immediately come home, for the most unheard-of things had happened there. Then she told him what had taken place; how the door was found wide open every morning, and in consequence no one ​in the house was any longer sure of his life, and that no one could tell what horrible results might follow this mysterious occurrence. Herr Sesemann replied. by return of mail that it was impossible for him to leave his business so suddenly to come home. The ghost story was very strange, and he hoped it was all past. Meanwhile, if there should be any further trouble, Fräulein Rottenmeier might write to Frau Sesemann and ask her to come to Frankfurt to their assistance; his mother would surely dispel the ghosts in a very short space of time, and after that they would never again venture to disturb his house.

Fräulein Rottenmeier was not pleased with the tone of this letter; the matter had made too little impression on him. She wrote immediately to Frau Sesemann, but she did not get any more satisfaction from this direction, and the reply contained some very sarcastic remarks. Frau Sesemann wrote that she did not think it worth while for her to travel from Holstein to Frankfurt because Rottenmeier saw ghosts. Moreover, a ghost had never been seen in the Sesemann house, and if there was one wandering around there now, it could be nothing but a living being, and Rottenmeier ought to be able to come to an understanding with it; if not, she should call the night watchman to her aid.

But Fräulein Rottenmeier was determined not to spend her days any longer in terror, and she knew how to help herself. Until then she had told the children nothing about the appearance of a ghost, lest they should be afraid to stay alone a single moment day or ​ night, and that might have very uncomfortable consequences for her. Now she went straight to the library, where the two were sitting together, and in a suppressed voice told them how a strange being appeared every night. Immediately Klara screamed out that she would not stay alone another moment, that her papa must come home, and Fräulein Rottenmeier must sleep in her room, and Heidi ought not to be alone either, or the ghost might come to her and do her some harm. She wanted them all to stay in the same room and to have a light burning all night, and Tinette must sleep near, and Sebastian and Johann must come down and spend the night in the hall, in order to scream and frighten away the ghost if it should come up on the stairs.

Klara was very much excited, and Fräulein Rottenmeier had the greatest difficulty to quiet her. She promised to write to her papa immediately, and to put her bed in Klara's room, and never to leave her alone again. They could not all sleep in the same room, but if Adelheid was afraid, Tinette must put up a couch in her room. But Heidi was more afraid of Tinette than of ghosts, for she had never even heard of such things, and she insisted that she was not afraid and preferred to remain alone in her room.

Hereupon Fräulein Rottenmeier flew to her writing table and wrote to Herr Sesemann how the mysterious proceedings which were repeated every night in his house had so affected his daughter's delicate constitution that the most serious consequences were to be ​anticipated. Examples were known of sudden epileptic seizures, or attacks of St. Vitus's dance, in similar cases, and his daughter was liable to any such misfortune if the house were not relieved from this state of terror.

This had some effect. Two days later Herr Sesemann was standing at his door and rang so violently that every one in the house came hurrying down, and each gazed at the other, for they believed nothing less than that the ghost was most impudently playing his evil tricks even in the daytime. Sebastian, on the floor above, cautiously peered out through a half-opened shutter; and just at that instant there was another ring at the bell, and this time so imperatively that no doubt was left in any one's mind that it was a human hand behind the summons.

Sebastian had recognized the hand, dashed through the room, flew headfirst downstairs, but landed on his feet at the bottom and flung the front door open. Herr Sesemann did not stop to talk with him, but went immediately up to his daughter's room. Klara received her papa with a cry of joy, and when he saw her looking so cheerful and unaltered, his face, which had looked very stern, softened, and his expression grew more and more pleasant, as he heard from his daughter's own lips that she was as well as usual, and that she was perfectly delighted to have him at home again, and that she was most grateful to the ghost that was haunting the house, because it had caused her papa to come home.

"And what further pranks has the ghost been up ​to, Fräulein Rottenmeier?" asked Herr Sesemann with a comical expression in the corners of his mouth.

"Indeed, Herr Sesemann," replied that lady with solemnity, "it is no laughing matter. I have no doubt at all that by to-morrow Herr Sesemann will find it serious enough; for what is going on in this house signifies that something terrible must have happened here in days gone by and have been kept secret."

"Well, I know nothing about it," observed Herr Sesemann, "but I must beg of you not to harbor any suspicions of my most honorable ancestors. And now call Sebastian into the dining-room; I wish to talk with him alone."

Herr Sesemann went into the dining-room, and Sebastian made his appearance. Herr Sesemann had not failed to observe that Sebastian and Fräulein Rottenmeier were not the best of friends; so he had his suspicions.

"Come here, Sebastian," said he, beckoning the servant to enter. "Now tell me honestly, have you not your own self been playing the part of a ghost in order to plague Fräulein Rottenmeier a little? Tell me!"

"No, on my word; you must not think any such thing; I myself have not felt at all comfortable about the matter," replied Sebastian with unmistakable frankness.

"Well, if that is the case, I will show you and the brave Johann to-morrow how ghosts look by daylight. Shame upon you, Sebastian! a strong young fellow like you running away from ghosts! Now go at once ​to my old friend, Dr. Classen; give him my compliments, and tell him he must come here without fail to-night at nine o'clock. I have come home from Paris on purpose to consult him. It is such a serious matter that he must spend the night with me; he must make his arrangements accordingly. Do you understand, Sebastian?"

"Yes, indeed; yes, indeed! Herr Sesemann may be sure that I shall do as he says."

Sebastian left the room, and Herr Sesemann turned to his little daughter to quiet her fears about the apparition, which he was going that very day to put in its true light.

Punctually at nine o'clock, when the children had gone to sleep and Fräulein Rottenmeier had retired, the doctor appeared, showing still under his gray hair a very fresh face and two bright, kind twinkling eyes. He looked somewhat anxious, but as his friend greeted him, broke out into a hearty laugh and said, clapping him on the shoulder:—

"Well, well, for one who needs to be watched with, you look tolerably hearty, old friend."

"Have patience, my dear doctor," replied Herr Sesemann; "the one you have to watch with will look worse when we have caught him."

"What! a sick person in the house and one that must be caught?"

"Far worse, doctor, far worse. A ghost in the house; the house is haunted!"

The doctor laughed aloud.

​"A fine state of affairs, doctor!" continued Herr Sesemann. "It's a shame that my friend Rottenmeier cannot enjoy it. She is convinced that a former Sesemann is wandering about here and expiating some dreadful deed."

"How did she find out about it?" asked the doctor, still very much amused.

Herr Sesemann now told his friend about the whole proceeding, and added that, in order to be prepared for whatever might happen, he had left two well-loaded revolvers where they were to watch; for either the affair was a very undesirable joke, which possibly some of the servants' acquaintances were playing, in order to frighten the people in the house during the master's absence—in that case a little scare, such as a good shot into the air, could not be unwholesome—or else it was a case of thieves, who had taken this means to make them think they were ghosts, in order to be safer later on, as no one would dare to venture forth; if this were so, a good weapon might not come amiss.

During this explanation the gentlemen had gone downstairs and entered the same room where Johann and Sebastian had watched. On the table lay the two revolvers, and two brightly lighted candelabra stood in the centre, for Herr Sesemann did not care to await the ghost in a dim light.

The door was now put together, so that too much light need not shine out into the hall to frighten away the ghost. Then the gentlemen seated themselves comfortably in their easy-chairs and began to talk about all ​sorts of things, now and then taking a little refreshment, and so the clock struck twelve before they were aware of it.

"The ghost has spied us out and is not coming to-night at all," said the doctor. "Have patience, it may come at one o'clock," replied his friend.

They went on with their talking. It struck one. It was perfectly still all about; even on the street there was no sound to be heard. Suddenly the doctor lifted his finger:—

"Sh, Sesemann! don't you hear something?"

They both listened. They heard the bar softly but quite distinctly pushed back, the key turned twice in the lock, and the door was opened. Herr Sesemann reached after the revolver.

"You are not afraid?" said the doctor, rising.

"It is better to be cautious," whispered Herr Sesemann, seizing the candelabrum with three candles in his left hand, and the revolver in his right, and followed the doctor, who proceeded likewise provided with lights and a revolver. They stepped out into the corridor.

Through the wide-open door the pale moonlight came in and lighted up a white form, which stood motionless on the threshold.

"Who is there?" the doctor thundered forth, so that it echoed through the entire length of the corridor, and both gentlemen, with lights and weapons, went toward the figure. It turned around and gave a little scream.

There stood Heidi, with bare feet, in her white night​clothes, looking bewildered at the bright lights and the firearms, and shivering and trembling from head to foot like a little leaf in the wind. The gentlemen looked at each other in the greatest astonishment.

"I really believe, Sesemann, that it is your little water-carrier," said the doctor.

"Child, what does this mean?" asked Herr Sesemann. "What are you going to do? Why have you come down here?"

White as snow, from fright, Heidi stood there and said, scarcely able to make a sound:—

"I don't know."

Then the doctor stepped forward:—

"Sesemann, the case belongs to my domain; go and sit down in your easy-chair in there for a while. I will first of all take the child back where she belongs."

Whereupon he laid his revolver on the floor, took the trembling child by the hand, as a father would, and went upstairs with her.

​"Don't be afraid, don't be afraid," he said kindly, as they went up; "only be very quiet; there is no harm done, so never mind."

When they were in Heidi's room the doctor placed his light on the table, took Heidi in his arms, laid her in her bed and covered her up carefully. He sat down in a chair by the bed and waited until she was somewhat calmer and did not tremble in every limb. Then he took Heidi's hand and said soothingly:—

"There, now everything is all right; now tell me where you wanted to go."

"I didn't want to go anywhere," asserted Heidi; "I did not go down there myself; I was only there all at once."

"Indeed! and did you dream anything in the night, do you know, so that you saw and heard something very clearly?"

"Yes, every night I dream, and always the same thing. I think I am with my grandfather, and I hear the fir trees roaring outdoors, and I think, 'Now the stars are sparkling so brightly in the sky,' and I run swiftly and open the door of the hut, and it is so beautiful there! But when I wake up I am always in Frankfurt still." Heidi began to struggle and to swallow down the lump that rose in her throat.

"Hm! and do you ever have any pain anywhere? In your head or in your back?"

"Oh, no; only something presses here all the time, like a great stone."

"Hm! somewhat as if you had eaten something ​and then afterwards wished you could give it back again?"

"No, not like that; but so heavy, as if I must cry hard."

"Indeed! and then do you cry right out loud?"

"Oh, no, I don't dare to do that; Fräulein Rottenmeier has forbidden that."

"Then you swallow it down till another time, don't you? Really! Well, you like to stay in Frankfurt, do you not?"

"Oh, yes," she replied faintly; but it sounded as if she meant the opposite.

"Hm! and where did you live with your grandfather?"

"Always on the Alm."

"It is not particularly pleasant there, but rather dreary, is it not?"

"Oh, no; it is so lovely there, so lovely!"

Heidi could say no more; the recollection of it all, the excitement she had just passed through, and the long-restrained weeping overpowered the child; the tears rushed from her eyes in streams, and she broke into loud, passionate sobbing.

The doctor rose; he laid Heidi's head gently on the pillow and said:—

"There, now cry a little—it can do no harm—and then go to sleep, and be happy in your sleep; to-morrow everything will be all right."

Then he went downstairs.

When he was once more in the room where they had ​been watching, he drew the easy-chair opposite his waiting friend and explained to him, as he listened with eager expectation:—

"Sesemann, in the first place, your little protégée walks in her sleep; all unconsciously she has opened the door every night like a ghost and put all your servants into a fever of fright. In the second place, the child is wasting away from homesickness, so that she is almost reduced to a little skeleton and will soon be entirely so; something must be done for her at once! For the first evil and for the nervous excitement existing in a high degree there is but one remedy, namely, to send the child immediately back to her native mountain air; for the second there is but one medicine, and that the very same thing. So send the child home to-morrow; that is my prescription."

Herr Sesemann rose from his chair. He walked up and down the room in the greatest excitement; then he exclaimed:—

"A sleep-walker! Sick! Homesick! wasted away in my house! All this in my house! And no one noticed it or knew anything about it! And do you think, doctor, that I will send the child, who came fresh and healthy into my house, back to her grandfather miserable and wasted away? No, doctor, you cannot expect that; I can't do that; that I will never do. Take the child in hand, put her under treatment, do what you like, but make her sound and healthy, and then I will send her home if she wants to go; but first give her your aid!"

​"Sesemann," replied the doctor earnestly, "think what you are doing! Her condition is no illness that can be cured with powders and pills. The child has no delicate constitution; if you send her back now to the bracing mountain air, to which she is accustomed, she will be perfectly well again; if not—you would not like to send her back beyond all help to her grandfather, or never send her back at all, would you?"

Herr Sesemann stood still in astonishment:—

"Well, if this is your advice, doctor, there is only one way; it must be followed immediately."

With these words Herr Sesemann took his friend's arm and walked about with him to talk the matter over still further. Then the doctor started to go home, for much time had passed during their conversation, and the bright morning light was coming through the house door, which was opened this time by the master of the house.