Heidi - Johanna Spyri (red scrolls of magic .txt) 📗

she looked forward to all kinds of new

things happening again that day. Breakfast passed off quietly;

Heidi ate her bread and butter in a perfectly correct manner,

and when the meal was over and Clara wheeled back into the study,

Fraulein Rottenmeier told her to follow and remain with Clara

until the tutor should arrive and lessons begin.

 

As soon as the children were alone again, Heidi asked, “How can

one see out from here, and look right down on to the ground?”

 

“You must open the window and look out,” replied Clara amused.

 

“But the windows won’t open,” responded Heidi sadly.

 

“Yes, they will,” Clara assured her. “You cannot open them, nor

I either, but when you see Sebastian you can ask him to open

one.”

 

It was a great relief to Heidi to know that the windows could be

opened and that one could look out, for she still felt as if she

was shut up in prison. Clara now began to ask her questions

about her home, and Heidi was delighted to tell her all about the

mountain and the goats, and the flowery meadows which were so

dear to her.

 

Meanwhile her tutor had arrived; Fraulein Rottenmeier, however,

did not bring him straight into the study but drew him first

aside into the dining-room, where she poured forth her troubles

and explained to him the awkward position in which she was

placed, and how it had all come about. It appeared that she had

written some time back to Herr Sesemann to tell him that his

daughter very much wished to have a companion, and had added how

desirable she thought it herself, as it would be a spur to Clara

at her lessons and an amusement for her in her playtime.

Fraulein Rottenmeier had privately wished for this arrangement on

her own behalf, as it would relieve her from having always to

entertain the sick girl herself, which she felt at times was too

much for her. The father had answered that he was quite willing

to let his daughter have a companion, provided she was treated in

every way like his own child, as he would not have any child

tormented or put upon which was a very unnecessary remark,” put

in Fraulein Rottenmeier, “for who wants to torment children!” But

now she went on to explain how dreadfully she had been taken in

about the child, and related all the unimaginable things of which

she had already been guilty, so that not only would he have to

begin with teaching her the A B C, but would have to start with

the most rudimentary instruction as regarded everything to do

with daily life. She could see only one way out of this

disastrous state of affairs, and that was for the tutor to

declare that it was impossible for the two to learn together

without detriment to Clara, who was so far ahead of the other;

that would be a valid excuse for getting rid of the child, and

Herr Sesemann would be sure to agree to the child being sent home

again, but she dared not do this without his order, since he was

aware that by this time the companion had arrived. But the tutor

was a cautious man and not inclined to take a partial view of

matters. He tried to calm Fraulein Rottenmeier, and gave it as

his opinion that if the little girl was backward in some things

she was probably advanced in others, and a little regular

teaching would soon set the balance right. When Fraulein

Rottenmeier saw that he was not ready to support her, and

evidently quite ready to undertake teaching the alphabet, she

opened the study door, which she quickly shut again as soon as he

had gone through, remaining on the other side herself, for she

had a perfect horror of the A B C. She walked up and down the

dining-room, thinking over in her own mind how the servants were

to be told to address Adelaide. The father had written that she

was to be treated exactly like his own daughter, and this would

especially refer, she imagined, to the servants. She was not

allowed, however, a very long interval of time for consideration,

for suddenly the sound of a frightful crash was heard in the

study, followed by frantic cries for Sebastian. She rushed into

the room. There on the floor lay in a confused heap, books,

exercise-books, inkstand, and other articles with the tablecloth

on the top, while from beneath them a dark stream of ink was

flowing all across the floor. Heidi had disappeared.

 

“Here’s a state of things!” exclaimed Fraulein Rottenmeier,

wringing her hands. “Tablecloth, books, work-basket, everything

lying in the ink! It was that unfortunate child, I suppose!”

 

The tutor was standing looking down at the havoc in distress;

there was certainly only one view to be taken of such a matter

as this and that an unfavorable one. Clara meanwhile appeared to

find pleasure in such an unusual event and in watching the

results. “Yes, Heidi did it,” she explained, “but quite by

accident; she must on no account be punished; she jumped up in

such violent haste to get away that she dragged the tablecloth

along with her, and so everything went over. There were a number

of vehicles passing, that is why she rushed off like that;

perhaps she has never seen a carriage.”

 

“Is it not as I said? She has not the smallest notion about

anything! not the slightest idea that she ought to sit still and

listen while her lessons are going on. But where is the child

who has caused all this trouble? Surely she has not run away!

What would Herr Sesemann say to me?” She ran out of the room and

down the stairs. There, at the bottom, standing in the open doorway, was Heidi, looking in amazement up and down the street.

 

“What are you doing? What are you thinking of to run away like

that?” called Fraulein Rottenmeier.

 

“I heard the sound of the fir trees, but I cannot see where they

are, and now I cannot hear them any more,” answered Heidi,

looking disappointedly in the direction whence the noise of the

passing carriages had reached her, and which to Heidi had seemed

like the blowing of the south wind in the trees, so that in

great joy of heart she had rushed out to look at them.

 

“Fir trees! do you suppose we are in a wood? What ridiculous

ideas are these? Come upstairs and see the mischief you have

done!”

 

Heidi turned and followed Fraulein Rottenmeier upstairs; she was

quite astonished to see the disaster she had caused, for in her

joy and haste to get to the fir trees she had been unaware of

having dragged everything after her.

 

“I excuse you doing this as it is the first time, but do not let

me know you doing it a second time,” said Fraulein Rottenmeier,

pointing to the floor. “During your lesson time you are to sit

still and attend. If you cannot do this I shall have to tie you

to your chair. Do you understand?”

 

“Yes,” replied Heidi, “but I will certainly not move again,” for

now she understood that it was a rule to sit still while she was

being taught.

 

Sebastian and Tinette were now sent for to clear up the broken

articles and put things in order again; the tutor said good-morning and left, as it was impossible to do any more lessons

that day; there had been certainly no time for gaping this

morning.

 

Clara had to rest for a certain time during the afternoon, and

during this interval, as Fraulein Rottenmeier informed Heidi,

the latter might amuse herself as she liked. When Clara had been

placed on her couch after dinner, and the lady-housekeeper had

retired to her room, Heidi knew that her time had come to choose

her own occupation. It was just what she was longing for, as

there was something she had made up her mind to do; but she

would require some help for its accomplishment, and in view of

this she took her stand in the hall in front of the dining-room

door in order to intercept the person she wanted. In a few

minutes up came Sebastian from the kitchen with a tray of silver

tea-things, which he had to put away in the dining-room cupboard.

As he reached the top stairs Heidi went up to him and addressed

him in the formal manner she had been ordered to use by Fraulein

Rottenmeier.

 

Sebastian looked surprised and said somewhat curtly, “What is it

you want, miss?”

 

“I only wished to ask you something, but it is nothing bad like

this morning,” said Heidi, anxious to conciliate him, for she

saw that Sebastian was rather in a cross temper, and quite

thought that it was on account of the ink she had spilt on the

floor.

 

“Indeed, and why, I should first like to know, do you address me

like that?” replied Sebastian, evidently still put out.

 

“Fraulein Rottenmeier told me always to speak to you like that,”

said Heidi.

 

Then Sebastian laughed, which very much astonished Heidi, who

had seen nothing amusing in the conversation, but Sebastian, now

he understood that the child was only obeying orders, added in a

friendly voice, “What is it then that miss wants?”

 

It was now Heidi’s turn to be a little put out, and she said,

“My name is not miss, it is Heidi.”

 

“Quite so, but the same lady has ordered me to call you miss,”

explained Sebastian.

 

“Has she? oh, then I must be called so,” said Heidi

submissively, for she had already noticed that whatever Fraulein

Rottenmeier said was law. “Then now I have three names,” she

added with a sigh.

 

“What was it little miss wished to ask?” said Sebastian as he

went on into the dining-room to put away his silver.

 

“How can a window be opened?”

 

“Why, like that!” and Sebastian flung up one of the large

windows.

 

Heidi ran to it, but she was not tall enough to see out, for her

head only reached the sill.

 

“There, now miss can look out and see what is going on below,”

said Sebastian as he brought her a high wooden stool to stand

on.

 

Heidi climbed up, and at last, as she thought, was going to see

what she had been longing for. But she drew back her head with a

look of great disappointment on her face.

 

“Why, there is nothing outside but the stony streets,” she said

mournfully; “but if I went right round to the other side of the

house what should I see there, Sebastian?”

 

“Nothing but what you see here,” he told her.

 

“Then where can I go to see right away over the whole valley?”

 

“You would have to climb to the top of a high tower, a church

tower, like that one over there with the gold ball above it.

From there you can see right away ever so far.”

 

Heidi climbed down quickly from her stool, ran to the door, down

the steps and out into the street. Things were not, however,

quite so easy as she thought. Looking from the window the tower

had appeared so close that she imagined she had only to run over

the road to reach it. But now, although she ran along the whole

length of the street, she still did not get any nearer to it,

and indeed soon lost sight of it altogether; she turned down

another street, and went on and on, but still no tower. She

passed a great many