Heidi, Johanna Spyri [reading e books .TXT] 📗

with the

prospect of her grandmother’s arrival, which was to take place

in a few days’ time. Herr Sesemann had indeed only just gone when

a letter came from Frau Sesemann, announcing her arrival on the

following day, and stating the hour when she might be expected,

in order that a carriage should be sent to meet her at the

station. Clara was overjoyed, and talked so much about her

grandmother that evening, that Heidi began also to call her

“grandmamma,” which brought down on her a look of displeasure

from Fraulein Rottenmeier; this, however, had no particular

effect on Heidi, for she was accustomed now to being continually

in that lady’s black books. But as she was going to her room

that night, Fraulein Rottenmeier waylaid her, and drawing her

into her own, gave her strict injunctions as to how she was to

address Frau Sesemann when she arrived; on no account was she to

call her “grandmamma,” but always to say “madam” to her. “Do you

understand?” said the lady, as she saw a perplexed expression on

Heidi’s face. The latter had not understood, but seeing the

severe expression of the lady’s face she did not ask for more

explanation.

 

CHAPTER X. ANOTHER GRANDMOTHER

 

There was much expectation and preparation about the house on

the following evening, and it was easy to see that the lady who

was coming was one whose opinion was highly thought of, and for

whom everybody had a great respect. Tinette had a new white cap

on her head, and Sebastian collected all the footstools he could

find and placed them in convenient spots, so that the lady might

find one ready to her feet whenever she chose to sit. Fraulein

Rottenmeier went about surveying everything, very upright and

dignified, as if to show that though a rival power was expected,

her own authority was not going to be extinguished.

 

And now the carriage came driving up to the door, and Tinette

and Sebastian ran down the steps, followed with a slower and more

stately step by the lady, who advanced to greet the guest. Heidi

had been sent up to her room and ordered to remain there until

called down, as the grandmother would certainly like to see

Clara alone first. Heidi sat herself down in a corner and

repeated her instructions over to herself. She had not to wait

long before Tinette put her head in and said abruptly, “Go

downstairs into the study.”

 

Heidi had not dared to ask Fraulein Rottenmeier again how she

was to address the grandmother: she thought the lady had perhaps

made a mistake, for she had never heard any one called by other

than their right name. As she opened the study door she heard a

kind voice say, “Ah, here comes the child! Come along in and let

me have a good look at you.”

 

Heidi walked up to her and said very distinctly in her clear

voice, “Good-evening,” and then wishing to follow her

instructions called her what would be in English “Mrs. Madam.”

 

“Well!” said the grandmother, laughing, “is that how they

address people in your home on the mountain?”

 

“No,” replied Heidi gravely, “I never knew any one with that

name before.”

 

“Nor I either,” laughed the grandmother again as she patted

Heidi’s cheek. “Never mind! when I am with the children I am

always grandmamma; you won’t forget that name, will you?”

 

“No, no,” Heidi assured her, “I often used to say it at home.”

 

“I understand,” said the grandmother, with a cheerful little nod

of the head. Then she looked more closely at Heidi, giving

another nod from time to time, and the child looked back at her

with steady, serious eyes, for there was something kind and warm-hearted about this new-comer that pleased Heidi, and indeed

everything to do with the grandmother attracted her, so that she

could not turn her eyes away. She had such beautiful white hair,

and two long lace ends hung down from the cap on her head and

waved gently about her face every time she moved, as if a soft

breeze were blowing round her, which gave Heidi a peculiar

feeling of pleasure.

 

“And what is your name, child?” the grandmother now asked.

 

“I am always called Heidi; but as I am now to be called

Adelaide, I will try and take care—” Heidi stopped short, for

she felt a little guilty; she had not yet grown accustomed to

this name; she continued not to respond when Fraulein Rottenmeier

suddenly addressed her by it, and the lady was at this moment

entering the room.

 

“Frau Sesemann will no doubt agree with me,” she interrupted,

“that it was necessary to choose a name that could be pronounced

easily, if only for the sake of the servants.”

 

“My worthy Rottenmeier,” replied Frau Sesemann, “if a person is

called ‘Heidi’ and has grown accustomed to that name, I call her

by the same, and so let it be.”

 

Fraulein Rottenmeier was always very much annoyed that the old

lady continually addressed her by her surname only; but it was

no use minding, for the grandmother always went her own way, and

so there was no help for it. Moreover the grandmother was a keen

old lady, and had all her five wits about her, and she knew what

was going on in the house as soon as she entered it.

 

When on the following day Clara lay down as usual on her couch

after dinner, the grandmother sat down beside her for a few

minutes and closed her eyes, then she got up again as lively as

ever, and trotted off into the dining-room. No one was there.

“She is asleep, I suppose,” she said to herself, and then going

up to Fraulein Rottenmeier’s room she gave a loud knock at the

door. She waited a few minutes and then Fraulein Rottenmeier

opened the door and drew back in surprise at this unexpected

visit.

 

“Where is the child, and what is she doing all this time? That

is what I came to ask,” said Frau Sesemann.

 

“She is sitting in her room, where she could well employ herself

if she had the least idea of making herself useful; but you have

no idea, Frau Sesemann, of the out-of-the-way things this child

imagines and does, things which I could hardly repeat in good

society.”

 

“I should do the same if I had to sit in there like that child,

I can tell you; I doubt if you would then like to repeat what I

did, in good society! Go and fetch the child and bring her to my

room; I have some pretty books with me that I should like to

give her.”

 

“That is just the misfortune,” said Fraulein Rottenmeier with a

despairing gesture, “what use are books to her? She has not been

able to learn her A B C even, all the long time she has been

here; it is quite impossible to get the least idea of it into

her head, and that the tutor himself will tell you; if he had not

the patience of an angel he would have given up teaching her long

ago.”

 

“That is very strange,” said Frau Sesemann, “she does not look

to me like a child who would be unable to learn her alphabet.

However, bring her now to me, she can at least amuse herself

with the pictures in the books.”

 

Fraulein Rottenmeier was prepared with some further remarks, but

the grandmother had turned away and gone quickly towards her own

room. She was surprised at what she had been told about Heidi’s

incapacity for learning, and determined to find out more

concerning this matter, not by inquiries from the tutor,

however, although she esteemed him highly for his uprightness of

character; she had always a friendly greeting for him, but

always avoided being drawn into conversation with him, for she

found his style of talk somewhat wearisome.

 

Heidi now appeared and gazed with open-eyed delight and wonder

at the beautiful colored pictures in the books which the

grandmother gave her to look at. All of a sudden, as the latter

turned over one of the pages to a fresh picture, the child gave a

cry. For a moment or two she looked at it with brightening eyes,

then the tears began to fall, and at last she burst into sobs.

The grandmother looked at the picture—it represented a green

pasture, full of young animals, some grazing and others nibbling

at the shrubs. In the middle was a shepherd leaning upon his

staff and looking on at his happy flock. The whole scene was

bathed in golden light, for the sun was just sinking below the

horizon.

 

The grandmother laid her hand kindly On Heidi’s.

 

“Don’t cry, dear child, don’t cry,” she said, “the picture has

reminded you perhaps of something. But see, there is a beautiful

tale to the picture which I will tell you this evening. And

there are other nice tales of all kinds to read and to tell

again. But now we must have a little talk together, so dry your

tears and come and stand in front of me, so that I may see you

well—there, now we are happy again.”

 

But it was some little time before Heidi could overcome her

sobs. The grandmother gave her time to recover herself, saying

cheering words to her now and then, “There, it’s all right now,

and we are quite happy again.”

 

When at last she saw that Heidi was growing calmer, she said,

“Now I want you to tell me something. How are you getting on in

your school-time; do you like your lessons, and have you learnt

a great deal?”

 

“O no!” replied Heidi, sighing, “but I knew beforehand that it

was not possible to learn.”

 

“What is it you think impossible to learn?”

 

“Why, to read, it is too difficult.”

 

“You don’t say so! and who told you that?”

 

“Peter told me, and he knew all about it, for he had tried and

tried and could not learn it.”

 

“Peter must be a very odd boy then! But listen, Heidi, we must

not always go by what Peter says, we must try for ourselves. I

am certain that you did not give all your attention to the tutor

when he was trying to teach you your letters.”

 

“It’s of no use,” said Heidi in the tone of one who was ready to

endure what could not be cured.

 

“Listen to what I have to say,” continued the grandmother. “You

have not been able to learn your alphabet because you believed

what Peter said; but now you must believe what I tell you—and I

tell you that you can learn to read in a very little while, as

many other children do, who are made like you and not like

Peter. And now hear what comes after—you see that picture with

the shepherd and the animals—well, as soon as you are able to

read you shall have that book for your own, and then you will

know all about the sheep and the goats, and what the shepherd

did, and the wonderful things that happened to him, just as if

some one were telling you the whole tale. You will like to hear

about all that, won’t you?”

 

Heidi had listened with eager attention to the grandmother’s

words and now with a sigh exclaimed, “Oh, if only I could read

now!”

 

“It won’t take you long now to learn, that I can see; and now we

must go down to Clara; bring the books with you.” And hand in

hand the two returned to the study.

 

Since the day when Heidi