Heidi by Johanna Spyri (android e book reader txt) 📖

could relate all kinds of things

about him; my mother came from Domleschg, and so did he.”

 

“Nonsense, Dete, what do you mean?” replied Barbel, somewhat

offended, “gossip has not reached such a dreadful pitch in

Prattigau as all that, and I am also quite capable of holding my

tongue when it is necessary.”

 

“Very well then, I will tell you—but just wait a moment,” said

Dete in a warning voice, and she looked back to make sure that

the child was not near enough to hear all she was going to

relate; but the child was nowhere to be seen, and must have

turned aside from following her companions some time before,

while these were too eagerly occupied with their conversation to

notice it. Dete stood still and looked around her in all

directions. The footpath wound a little here and there, but

could nevertheless be seen along its whole length nearly to

Dorfli; no one, however, was visible upon it at this moment.

 

“I see where she is,” exclaimed Barbel, “look over there!” and

she pointed to a spot far away from the footpath. “She is

climbing up the slope yonder with the goatherd and his goats. I

wonder why he is so late to-day bringing them up. It happens

well, however, for us, for he can now see after the child, and

you can the better tell me your tale.”

 

“Oh, as to the looking after,” remarked Dete, “the boy need not

put himself out about that; she is not by any means stupid for

her five years, and knows how to use her eyes. She notices all

that is going on, as I have often had occasion to remark, and

this will stand her in good stead some day, for the old man has

nothing beyond his two goats and his hut.”

 

“Did he ever have more?” asked Barbel.

 

“He? I should think so indeed,” replied Dete with animation; “he

was owner once of one of the largest farms in Domleschg. He was

the elder of two brothers; the younger was a quiet, orderly man,

but nothing would please the other but to play the grand

gentleman and go driving about the country and mixing with bad

company, strangers that nobody knew. He drank and gambled away

the whole of his property, and when this became known to his

mother and father they died, one shortly after the other, of

sorrow. The younger brother, who was also reduced to beggary,

went off in his anger, no one knew whither, while Uncle himself,

having nothing now left to him but his bad name, also

disappeared. For some time his whereabouts were unknown, then

some one found out that he had gone to Naples as a soldier;

after that nothing more was heard of him for twelve or fifteen

years. At the end of that time he reappeared in Domleschg,

bringing with him a young child, whom he tried to place with some

of his kinspeople. Every door, however, was shut in his face, for

no one wished to have any more to do with him. Embittered by this

treatment, he vowed never to set foot in Domleschg again, and he

then came to Dorfli, where he continued to live with his little

boy. His wife was probably a native of the Grisons, whom he had

met down there, and who died soon after their marriage. He could

not have been entirely without money, for he apprenticed his

son, Tobias, to a carpenter. He was a steady lad, and kindly

received by every one in Dorfli. The old man was, however, still

looked upon with suspicion, and it was even rumoured that he had

been forced to make his escape from Naples, or it might have gone

badly with him, for that he had killed a man, not in fair fight,

you understand, but in some brawl. We, however, did not refuse

to acknowledge our relationship with him, my great-grandmother on

my mother’s side having been sister to his grandmother. So we

called him Uncle, and as through my father we are also related to

nearly every family in Dorfli, he became known all over the place

as Uncle, and since he went to live on the mountain side he has

gone everywhere by the name of Alm-Uncle.”

 

“And what happened to Tobias?” asked Barbel, who was listening

with deep interest.

 

“Wait a moment, I am coming to that, but I cannot tell you

everything at once,” replied Dete. “Tobias was taught his trade

in Mels, and when he had served his apprenticeship he came back

to Dorfli and married my sister Adelaide. They had always been

fond of one another, and they got on very well together after

they were married. But their happiness did not last long. Her

husband met with his death only two years after their marriage,

a beam falling upon him as he was working, and killing him on the

spot. They carried him home, and when Adelaide saw the poor

disfigured body of her husband she was so overcome with horror

and grief that she fell into a fever from which she never

recovered. She had always been rather delicate and subject to

curious attacks, during which no one knew whether she was awake

or sleeping. And so two months after Tobias had been carried to

the grave, his wife followed him. Their sad fate was the talk of

everybody far and near, and both in private and public the

general opinion was expressed that it was a punishment which

Uncle had deserved for the godless life he had led. Some went so

far even as to tell him so to his face. Our minister endeavored

to awaken his conscience and exhorted him to repentance, but the

old man grew only more wrathful and obdurate and would not speak

to a soul, and every one did their best to keep out of his way.

All at once we heard that he had gone to live up the Alm and did

not intend ever to come down again, and since then he has led

his solitary life on the mountain side at enmity with God and

man. Mother and I took Adelaide’s little one, then only a year

old, into our care. When mother died last year, and I went down

to the Baths to earn some money, I paid old Ursel, who lives in

the village just above, to keep and look after the child. I

stayed on at the Baths through the winter, for as I could sew and

knit I had no difficulty in finding plenty of work, and early in

the spring the same family I had waited on before returned from

Frankfurt, and again asked me to go back with them. And so we

leave the day after tomorrow, and I can assure you, it is an

excellent place for me.”

 

“And you are going to give the child over to the old man up

there? It surprises me beyond words that you can think of doing

such a thing, Dete,” said Barbel, in a voice full of reproach.

 

“What do you mean?” retorted Dete. “I have done my duty by the

child, and what would you have me do with it now? I cannot

certainly take a child of five years old with me to Frankfurt.

But where are you going to yourself, Barbel; we are now half way

up the Alm?”

 

“We have just reached the place I wanted,” answered Barbel. “I

had something to say to the goatherd’s wife, who does some

spinning for me in the winter. So good-bye, Dete, and good luck

to you!”

 

Dete shook hands with her friend and remained standing while

Barbel went towards a small, dark brown hut, which stood a few

steps away from the path in a hollow that afforded it some

protection from the mountain wind. The hut was situated half way

up the Alm, reckoning from Dorfli, and it was well that it was

provided with some shelter, for it was so broken-down and

dilapidated that even then it must have been very unsafe as a

habitation, for when the stormy south wind came sweeping over

the mountain, everything inside it, doors and windows, shook and

rattled, and all the rotten old beams creaked and trembled. On

such days as this, had the goatherd’s dwelling been standing

above on the exposed mountain side, it could not have escaped

being blown straight down into the valley without a moment’s

warning.

 

Here lived Peter, the eleven-year-old boy, who every morning

went down to Dorfli to fetch his goats and drive them up on to

the mountain, where they were free to browse till evening on the

delicious mountain plants.

 

Then Peter, with his light-footed animals, would go running and

leaping down the mountain again till he reached Dorfli, and

there he would give a shrill whistle through his fingers,

whereupon all the owners of the goats would come out to fetch

home the animals that belonged to them. It was generally the

small boys and girls who ran in answer to Peter’s whistle, for

they were none of them afraid of the gentle goats, and this was

the only hour of the day through all the summer months that Peter

had any opportunity of seeing his young friends, since the rest

of his time was spent alone with the goats. He had a mother and a

blind grandmother at home, it is true, but he was always obliged

to start off very early in the morning, and only got home late in

the evening from Dorfli, for he always stayed as long as he could

talking and playing with the other children; and so he had just

time enough at home, and that was all, to swallow down his bread

and milk in the morning, and again in the evening to get through

a similar meal, lie down in bed and go to sleep. His father, who

had been known also as the goatherd, having earned his living as

such when younger, had been accidentally killed while cutting

wood some years before. His mother, whose real name was Brigitta,

was always called the goatherd’s wife, for the sake of old

association, while the blind grandmother was just “grandmother”

to all the old and young in the neighborhood.

 

Dete had been standing for a good ten minutes looking about her

in every direction for some sign of the children and the goats.

Not a glimpse of them, however, was to be seen, so she climbed

to a higher spot, whence she could get a fuller view of the

mountain as it sloped beneath her to the valley, while, with ever-increasing anxiety on her face and in her movements, she

continued to scan the surrounding slopes. Meanwhile the children

were climbing up by a far and roundabout way, for Peter knew

many spots where all kinds of good food, in the shape of shrubs

and plants, grew for his goats, and he was in the habit of

leading his flock aside from the beaten track. The child,

exhausted with the heat and weight of her thick armor of clothes,

panted and struggled after him at first with some difficulty. She

said nothing, but her little eyes kept watching first Peter, as

he sprang nimbly hither and thither on his bare feet, clad only

in his short light breeches, and then the slim-legged goats that

went leaping over rocks and shrubs and up the steep ascents with

even greater ease. All at once she sat herself down on the

ground, and as fast as her little fingers could move, began

pulling off her shoes and stockings. This done she rose, unwound

the hot red shawl and threw it away, and then proceeded to undo

her frock. It was off in a second, but there was