Heidi (1899)/Part 1/Chapter 4

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On the following morning the bright sun appeared again, and Peter came with his goats, and they all went together up to the pasture; and so it happened day after day. Heidi grew very brown and strong and healthy from this outdoor life, and she was as happy as the merry little birds in all the trees in the green woods.

It was now autumn, and the wind was beginning to blow louder over the mountains; so the grandfather said one day:—

"You must stay here to-day, Heidi; the wind with one puff could blow a little thing like you over all the rocks down into the valley."

But when Peter heard this in the morning, he looked very unhappy, for he saw real misfortune before him. He did not know how to pass the time, it was so tedious when Heidi was not with him. He missed his hearty dinner. Moreover, the goats were so contrary these days that he had twice as much trouble with them; they were so accustomed to Heidi's company that they would not go along, but ran off in every direction, because she was not with them.

Heidi was never unhappy, for she always found something about her to enjoy. She would have preferred ​to go with Peter and the goats to the pasture, to the flowers, and up to the robber-bird, where there were so many things to do, with all the different goats; but still her grandfather's hammering and sawing and carpentering were very interesting to Heidi. It pleased her that he was just preparing the pretty round goat cheeses. Since she had to stay at home, it was particularly delightful to watch the remarkable operations of her grandfather as he bared both arms and stirred the cheese in the big kettle.

But more attractive than all else to Heidi on such windy days was the roaring and rushing in the three old fir trees behind the hut. Wherever she happened to be, she had to run to them every little while, for nothing was so fascinating and wonderful as this deep, mysterious sound up in the tree-tops. Heidi would stand under them and listen; she was never tired of seeing and hearing how the wind roared and rocked the trees with such might.

The sun was no longer hot, as in summer, and Heidi brought out her shoes and stockings and also her little coat; for it grew cooler and cooler. When she stood under the fir trees the wind blew through her as if she were a thin leaf, but she kept running back again and could not stay in the house when she heard the wind.

Then it grew cold, and Peter breathed on his hands when he came early in the morning, but not for long, for suddenly one night a deep snow fell. When the sun rose, the whole Alm was white, and not a single green leaf was to be seen anywhere about.

​After this goatherd Peter came no more with his flock; and Heidi looked with amazement out of the little window, for it was beginning to snow again; and big flakes fell thick and fast, until the snow came up to the window, and then still higher, until they could not open the window, and they were completely buried in the little house. This made Heidi so merry that she kept running from one window to the other to see how it was increasing and whether the snow would cover the entire hut, so that they would need to have a light in the middle of the day. It was not so bad as that; and the following day the grandfather went out with his shovel, for the storm was over. He piled up great heaps of snow, so that there seemed to be mountains of it all around the hut.

Now the windows and the door were free, and it was fortunate; for as Heidi and her grandfather were sitting in the afternoon on their three-legged stools, suddenly there was a great knocking and stamping against the threshold, and finally the door opened. It was Peter the goatherd; but he had not kicked against the door through rudeness, but in order to beat off the snow from his shoes. Indeed, Peter was covered with snow, for he had been obliged to struggle through the high drifts; so that great lumps remained clinging to him, frozen fast by the sharp cold. But he had not given up, for he was anxious to reach Heidi, whom he had not seen for a whole long week.

"Good-afternoon," said he as he entered, then placed himself as near as possible to the fire and ​made no further remark; but his whole face beamed with pleasure at being there. Heidi looked at him wonderingly; for now that he was so near the fire, he began to thaw all over, so that he looked like a little waterfall.

"Well, general, how are you?" asked the grandfather. "Now you are without an army and must bite your slate pencil."

"Why must he bite his slate pencil, grandfather?" asked Heidi at once with curiosity.

"In winter he has to go to school," explained the grandfather. "There you learn to read and write, and often it is hard work; so it helps a little if you bite your slate pencil. Isn't it so, general?"

"Yes, it is so," said Peter.

Heidi's interest in the matter was now aroused, and she had to ask Peter a great many questions about the school and everything that happened and was to be seen and heard there. As much time was always spent in any conversation in which Peter was obliged to take part, the result was that meanwhile he was able to get well dried from top to toe. It was always a great effort for him to put his thoughts into words—to express his meaning; but this time it was unusually difficult, for he had scarcely succeeded in giving one answer before Heidi put two or three more unexpected questions and mostly such as required a whole sentence in reply.

The grandfather had kept quite still during this conversation, but the corners of his mouth had twitched with amusement, and this was a sign that he was listening. ​Well, general, now you have been under fire and need strengthening. Come, stay to supper with us!"

Whereupon the grandfather rose and brought the evening meal from the cupboard, and Heidi pushed the stools to the table. Next the wall there was still another seat, which the grandfather had made and fastened there. Now that he was no longer alone, he had fashioned here and there all sorts of seats for two; for Heidi had a way of always keeping near him wherever he went. So they all three had good seats; and Peter opened his round eyes very wide when he saw what a big piece of the fine dried meat the Alm-Uncle laid on his thick slice of bread. Peter had not had anything so good for a long time. When the pleasant meal was over, it began to grow dark, and Peter started for home. When he had said "good-night" and "God bless you" and was already in the doorway, he turned round once more and said:—

"Next Sunday I will come again a week from to-day; and you must come to my grandmother's sometime; she said so."

It was a new idea to Heidi that she should go to visit some one, but it took root on the spot, and on the following morning Heidi's first words were:—

"Grandfather, now I must really go down to the grandmother's; she expects me."

"There is too much snow," replied the grandfather, putting her off. But the purpose was deeply seated in Heidi's mind. After that not a day passed when Heidi did not say five or six times:—

​"Grandfather, now I must really go; the grandmother is expecting me."

On the fourth day, when the cold was so bitter that it cracked and creaked with every footstep outdoors, and the whole covering of snow was frozen hard all about, and yet the beautiful sun looked in at the window, Heidi, as she sat on her high stool eating her dinner, began her little speech again:—

"To-day I must really go to the grandmother's; she will be tired of waiting for me."

Then the grandfather rose from the dinner table, went up to the hayloft, brought down the thick bag that served as Heidi's bed covering, and said:—

"Well, come along!"

The child was greatly delighted and skipped after him out into the glistening world of snow. In the old fir trees it was now quite still; the white snow lay on every bough, and the trees sparkled and shone all over in the sunshine so gloriously that Heidi jumped up and down with delight and kept exclaiming:—

"Come out, grandfather! come out! The fir trees are all covered with real silver and gold!"

The grandfather had gone into the shop and now came out with a wide sled. It had a handle fastened to the side, and from the low seat one could hold the feet out in front against the snowy ground and steer with one or the other in the required direction.

After the grandfather had first looked all around the fir trees with Heidi, he seated himself on the sled, took the child in his lap, wrapped her up in the bag, so that ​she might be warm and comfortable, and held her tight with his left arm, as this was very necessary for the coming journey. Then with his right hand he seized the handle and gave a push with both feet. The sled shot away down the mountain with such swiftness that Heidi thought she was flying through the air like a bird and shouted with joy.

Suddenly the sled stood still in front of Peter the goatherd's hut. The grandfather put the child on the ground, unwrapped her covering, and said:—

"Now go in, and when it begins to grow dark, come out again and start along on the way home."

Then he turned round with his sled and drew it up the mountain.

Heidi opened the door and went into a little room which looked black. There was a fireplace in it and some bowls on a stand. This was the kitchen. Then came another door, which Heidi also opened. This led into a small sitting-room; for this was not a Swiss cottage, like her grandfather's, with one single, large room and a loft above it, but a very old little house, where everything was small, narrow, and shabby.

When Heidi stepped into the little sitting-room, she stood right in front of a table by which sat a woman mending Peter's jacket. Heidi immediately recognized it. In the corner sat an old, bent grandmother spinning. Heidi knew at once who she was. She went straight to the spinning wheel and said:—

"How do you do, grandmother? I have come to see you. Did you think it was a long time before I came?"

​The grandmother raised her head and sought for the hand held out to her. When she found it, she felt of it for some time thoughtfully; then she said:—

"Are you the child staying up with the Alm-Uncle? Are you Heidi?"

"Yes, yes," replied the child; "I have just come down with my grandfather on the sled."

"Is that possible! Your hand is so warm! Say, Brigitte, did the Alm-Uncle himself come down with the child?"

Peter's mother, Brigitte, who was mending by the table, had risen and was now examining the child with curiosity from head to foot; then she said:—

"I don't know, mother, whether the uncle himself came with her or not; it is not likely; the child may be mistaken."

But Heidi looked straight at the woman and said sturdily:—

"I know very well who wrapped me up in the coverlet and brought me down on the sled. It was my grandfather."

"Then there must be something in what Peter said last summer about the Alm-Uncle, although we thought he was not right," said the grandmother. "Who could really have believed that such a thing was possible? I thought the child would n't live three weeks up there! How does she look, Brigitte?"

Brigitte had studied her so thoroughly in the mean time that she could well describe her appearance.

"She has a delicate form like Adelheid," she replied; ​"but she has black eyes and curly hair, like Tobias and also like the old man up there. I believe she looks like them both."

Meanwhile Heidi was not idle; she had looked around and noticed everything. Now she said:—

"See, grandmother! there is a shutter that keeps swinging back and forth. My grandfather would drive in a nail at once to hold it fast. It will break a pane of glass. See, see!"

"Oh, you good child!" said the grandmother; "I cannot see it, but I can hear it and much more besides the shutter. Everything creaks and rattles when the wind blows, and it comes in everywhere. Everything is loose; and often in the night when both the others are asleep, I am so anxious and afraid lest the whole house should tumble down over our heads and kill us all three; and there is no man to mend anything about the hut, for Peter does n't know how."

"But why can't you see how the shutter swings, grandmother? See! there it goes again—there, there, there!" and Heidi pointed with her finger directly toward the place.

"Ah, child! I can see nothing at all, nothing at all; the shutter or anything else," said the grandmother mournfully.

"But if I go out and open the shutter wide so that it will be quite light; can you see then, grandmother?"

"No, no, not even then! No one can make it light for me again!"

"But if you go out in the white snow, then it will ​surely be light for you. Just come with me, grandmother; I will show you."

Heidi took the grandmother by the hand to lead her out, for she was beginning to be distressed because it did not seem light anywhere to the old dame.

"Let me sit still, you good child! It would be dark to me even in the snow and in the light. My eyes cannot see!"

"But then in the summer time, grandmother," said Heidi, still anxiously seeking some way out of the difficulty; "you know when the sun comes down quite hot and then says 'good-night' to the mountains, and they shine fiery red, and all the yellow flowers glisten; then it will be light to you, won't it?"

"Ah, child! I can never see them any more. The fiery mountains and the golden flowers above us will never more be bright to me on earth—nevermore."

Then Heidi burst into loud weeping. Full of distress, she sobbed incessantly:—

"Who can make it light again for you? Can no one? Can no one at all?"

The grandmother tried to comfort the child, but she did not soon succeed. Heidi hardly ever cried; but when she once began, it was almost impossible for her to recover from her grief. The grandmother had tried every means to soothe the child, for it went to her heart to have her sob so pitifully. Finally she said:—

"Come, dear Heidi, come here! I want to tell you something. When a person cannot see, it is so pleas​ant to hear a friendly word, and I like to hear you talk. Come, sit down near me and tell me what you do up there and what your grandfather does. I used to know him well, but for many years I have heard nothing about him, except through Peter; but Peter does n't say much."

Then a new idea came to Heidi's mind. She quickly wiped away her tears and said comfortingly:—

"Just wait, grandmother; I will tell my grandfather all about it. He will make it light for you again, and he will fix the hut so that it won't tumble down. He can make everything all right."

The grandmother remained silent. Then Heidi began with great liveliness to tell about her life with her grandfather and the days she spent in the pasture; about her present life in the winter, and what her grandfather made out of wood—benches and stools and lovely cribs to put hay in for Schwänli and Bärli, and a large new water tub for bathing in summer, and a new milk bowl and spoon. Heidi grew still more eager in describing the beautiful things which were made out of a piece of wood, and how she staid near her grandfather and watched him, and how quickly he did everything. The grandmother listened with great interest and from time to time interrupted her with:—

"Do you hear that, Brigitte? Do you hear what she says of the uncle?"

Suddenly the story was interrupted by a great thumping at the door, and in stamped Peter. The boy immediately stood still and opened his round eyes wide ​in astonishment at the sight of Heidi, and then a good-natured grin spread over his face as she said: "Good-afternoon, Peter!"

"Is it possible that he has already come home from school!" exclaimed the grandmother in surprise. "No afternoon for many a year has passed so quickly! Good-afternoon, Peterli! How did you get on with the reading?"

"Just the same," answered Peter.

"Dear, dear!" said the grandmother with a little sigh; "I thought there might be a change! Think! You will be twelve years old next February!"

"Why should there be a change, grandmother?" asked Heidi at once with interest.

"I only thought he might be able to learn something," said the grandmother; "learn to read, I mean. Up there on the shelf I have an old prayer-book with beautiful hymns in it which I have not heard for so long that I cannot remember them; so I thought if Peterli could only learn, he would perhaps be able to read some of the verses to me. But he cannot learn; it is too hard for him."

"I think I must get a light, it is already quite dark," said Peter's mother, who had been busy mending the jacket all the while. "The afternoon has gone before I was aware of it, either."

Then Heidi jumped up from her chair, quickly reached out her hand and said:—

"Good-night, grandmother! I must go home right away, if it is growing dark"; and Peter and his mother ​shook hands with her, one after the other, and accompanied her to the door. But the grandmother called out anxiously:—

"Wait, wait, Heidi! You must not go alone. Peter must go with you; do you hear? And take care of the child, Peterli. Don't let her fall down or stand still with her, for she might freeze. Do you hear? And has she a good thick handkerchief round her neck?"

"I have no handkerchief at all; but I shall not freeze," Heidi called back. Then she went out at the door and slipped away so quickly that Peter could hardly follow her.

But the grandmother called anxiously:—

"Run after her, Brigitte, run! The child will be frozen—out so in the night. Take my neckerchief. Run quickly!"

Brigitte obeyed. But the children had gone only a few steps up the mountain when they saw the grandfather coming down, and in a moment he was with them.

"Very good, Heidi," said he; "you have kept your word!" He wrapped the coverlet round the child once more, took her in his arms and climbed up the mountain. Brigitte saw this and went back into the hut with Peter and told the grandmother in great surprise all about it. The grandmother was also surprised and kept saying:—

"God be praised and thanked that he is so good to her! God be praised and thanked! If he will only let her come to see me again; for the child did me so ​much good! What a kind heart she has! How amusingly she talks!" And until she went to bed she kept repeating:—

"If she will only come again! Now there is something still left in the world to give me pleasure!"

Brigitte agreed with her every time, and Peter nodded his head approvingly and stretched his mouth wide with delight, saying:—

"I knew it!"

Meanwhile Heidi, wrapped in her bag, had much to say to her grandfather; but as her voice did not penetrate the eight-fold wrap, and he could not understand a word, he said:—

"Wait a little, until we get home; then tell me about it." As soon as he reached the hut and had taken off Heidi's wrap, she said:—

"Grandfather, to-morrow we must take the hammer and the big nails and fasten the shutter at the grandmother's house, and drive a good many more nails; for everything creaks and rattles there."

"We must? We must do so? Who told you that?" asked the grandfather.

"Nobody told me so; I knew it without," replied Heidi; "for everything is loose and it makes the grandmother anxious and afraid when the wind blows; and she can't sleep. She thinks: Now everything will fall down on our heads. And nobody can make it light any more for the grandmother! She does n't know how any one can. But you can surely, grand​father! Only think how sad it is for her to be always in the dark! and nobody can help her but you! To-morrow we will go; won't we, grandfather?"

Heidi clung to her grandfather and looked up at him with undoubting confidence. The old man gazed at the child for a little while, then said:—

"Yes, Heidi; we will make everything fast at the grandmother's hut, so that there will be no more rattling. To-morrow we will do so."

Then the child jumped for joy all around the room and cried:—

"To-morrow we will do it! To-morrow we will do it!"

The grandfather kept his word. The following afternoon they took the same ride on the sled. The old man set the child down before the door and said: "Now go in, and when it is night come back." Then he laid the bag on the sled and went around the house.

Scarcely had Heidi opened the door and run into the room, when the grandmother called out from her corner:—

"Here comes the child! It is the child!"

She dropped her thread and stopped the wheel for joy, and held out both hands.

Heidi immediately pushed the little low chair quite near, sat down in it, and had a great many more things to tell her and to ask her. But suddenly there was a heavy pounding on the house. It startled the grandmother so that she nearly upset the spinning wheel and, trembling, cried out:—

​"Oh, dear me! it has come at last; the hut is all tumbling to pieces."

But Heidi held her fast by the arm and said consolingly:—

"No, no, grandmother; don't be afraid, it is grandfather with his hammer; he is going to mend everything so that you won't be worried and afraid any longer."

"Oh! is it possible? Is such a thing possible? So the dear Lord has not entirely forgotten us!" exclaimed the grandmother. "Did you hear that, Brigitte, did you hear what it is? It is really a hammer! Go out, Brigitte, and if it is the Alm-Uncle tell him he must come in a moment and let me thank him."

Brigitte went out. The Alm-Uncle was just driving new fastenings into the wall; Brigitte went toward him and said:—

"I wish you good-afternoon, uncle, and so does my mother; and I want to thank you for doing us such a service, and so does my mother indoors. Surely no one else would do such a thing for us, and we want to thank you for it, for surely"—

"That will do," interrupted the old man; "what you think of the Alm-Uncle I already know. Just go back into the house; I can find out myself what needs to be done."

Brigitte at once obeyed, for the uncle had a way which people did not usually oppose. He pounded and hammered all around the hut; then he climbed the narrow little staircase up under the roof and kept on ham​mering until he had driven the last nail he had brought with him. Meanwhile it had begun to grow dark; he had hardly come down and drawn his sled from behind the goat-shed when Heidi stepped out from the door. The grandfather wrapped her up in his arms and carried her as on the previous day, drawing the sled after him.

Thus the winter passed. After many long years a joy had come into the blind grandmother's dreary life, and her days were no more long and dark; for now she always had something pleasant to anticipate. From early morning she listened for the tripping footstep, and when the door opened and the child actually came dancing in, then she always exclaimed joyfully:—

"God be praised! She has come again!"

Heidi would sit down by her side and prattle and talk merrily about everything she knew; it made the time pass so quickly that the grandmother did not notice it, and not once did she ask as formerly:—

"Brigitte, is the day nearly over?"

Every time that Heidi closed the door behind her she would say:—

"How short the afternoon has been, has n't it, Brigitte?" and Brigitte would reply: "To be sure, it seems to me we have hardly put away the dinner plates."

And the grandmother would say again:—

"If only the good Lord will preserve the child for me and keep the Alm-Uncle kind. Does she look well, Brigitte?" and every time Brigitte would answer: "She looks like a rosy apple."

​Heidi had also a great fondness for the old grandmother, and whenever it came to her mind that no one, not even her grandfather, could make it light for her again, a great feeling of sorrow came over her; but the grandmother assured her that she suffered least when she was with her, so Heidi came down on the sled every fine winter's day. The grandfather, without making any objection, had brought her, always carrying his hammer and other things; and he spent many an afternoon working about Peter's hut. It had a good result; there was no more creaking and rattling, and the grandmother said she should never forget the uncle, for she had not been able to sleep well for many a long winter.