CHAPTER II

ON THE PASTURE

The children had no school during the summer months because at that time they were all needed for light tasks in the fields and meadows. School began again late in the autumn.

On Monday morning the sun had only just flushed the tops of the mountains before rising above the wooded heights, when, early as it was, Stefeli, already neatly washed and dressed, rushed into Vinzi’s little chamber. She found him still fast asleep.

“Wake up, Vinzi,” she cried out. “The man has just brought back the cows from the pond and as soon as we have had breakfast, father wants us to go up to the pasture to watch them. The man has to come back when we get there. We’ll take lunch with us and stay all day long because it’s too far to come all the way home. Won’t we have fun eating out of doors? Please hurry.”

Vinzi had awakened meanwhile. When he gazed at his sister with his large dark eyes he still seemed lost in revery.

“Oh, I had such a wonderful dream,” he said. “Mother and I were in Litten, the place we went to last year. We went to church together and everything was exactly as we had seen it then. An organ was playing the most beautiful piece and it was more wonderful than I could tell you. Do you know what an organ sounds like?”

“Oh, Vinzi, you must come now. Please hurry up and don’t talk about an organ now,” Stefeli urged. “Mother has already taken in the coffee and father is having breakfast. You know we won’t have any fun if father gets cross. Do hurry up.”

With these words Stefeli ran away.

Vinzi had realized the truth of his sister’s words. He quickly jumped out of bed and completed his necessary toilet. Soon he stood in the room ready to start off. He speedily swallowed his milk and coffee and stuck the bread into his pocket, before the three others had half finished theirs. The father, looking at the boy, thought to himself, “He can hurry if he wants to. Perhaps something can still be done with him.” The mother had packed the children’s lunch neatly into a bag, which she hung around Vinzi’s shoulder. Stefeli now came skipping along with a straw hat on her head and in her hand a rod which Vinzi had cut for her. This she used for gently urging the cows ahead whenever they needed it, but she never beat them. When the children went out, followed by the parents, Vinzi discovered that he had left his whip in the barn. All cow-herds carried one in order just for fun to flick it sharply from time to time. A sound like thunder would re-echo from the mountains roundabout. As Vinzi did not care for this pastime with the whip he regularly forgot where he had put it. While he hunted about uncertainly his father began to frown. But suddenly, in leaps and bounds, his sister, who had noticed where he had left it, appeared with the whip.

At last the children started off. “Keep the cows from going across the stream, Vinzi,” the father called after them.

“Take care not to go too near the rushing stream yourselves,” was the mother’s last reminder.

“Yes, yes,” the children called back gaily, as they hurried along towards the mountain pasture. As soon as they arrived Stefeli began to shout violently. She had not forgotten that their man was to return to the farm as soon as they had arrived to take charge of the cows. He did not hear for quite a while because he happened to be on the other side of the roaring stream. Stefeli, however, did not give up till he had heard and understood her cries. He then hurried away.

“We have to see that the cows stay on our own pasture and that Schwärzeli does not jump about too much, for if she doesn’t eat she’ll get thin,” said Stefeli. “Come, Vinzi, let’s sit down over there under the tree; for if we leave our bag in the sun, the bread will get dry.”

Vinzi, who had already settled down, got up. He followed Stefeli, watching her while she carefully laid their provisions in the shadow of the broadest branches. Then they both sat down in the cool shade under the spreading tree where earlier the ground had been thoroughly dried by the sun.

The fresh morning wind was soughing through the branches and blowing over the pasture far and wide till its roaring was finally lost in the distance. Suddenly Stefeli bounded up and shot away like an arrow. With tail raised high the shiny black cow was going in big leaps towards the rushing stream. “Schwärzeli, Schwärzeli,” the child called repeatedly, “Schwärzeli, please wait for me!” But the high-spirited animal only jumped higher and had nearly reached the stream. “She will drown if she jumps in,” thought Stefeli, terribly frightened. By that time they had come to the dangerous place of which the mother had warned her. “Schwärzeli!” the child called once more with so much authority in her excited voice that far and wide her echo repeated, “Schwärzeli, Schwärzeli!”

Suddenly the fugitive stood still and turned around, while Stefeli rushed breathlessly towards the young heifer, who was quietly awaiting the arrival of her mistress.

“You are a bad Schwärzeli to scare me so,” Stefeli exclaimed, firmly grasping the rope about Schwärzeli’s neck, on which a little bell was fastened. “Just wait! If you go on like this I certainly won’t bring you any more salt to lick. You know you love it as if it were good sugar!” Schwärzeli was tenderly rubbing her head on Stefeli’s shoulder now as if to say, “I meant no harm, but it is such fun to caper across the meadow.”

“Yes, yes,” Stefeli answered, as if she had understood everything Schwärzeli had been trying to express, “you want me to forgive you now, but stop running towards the stream. You can run towards the other side all you want. Oh, I see, you think it more fun to run downhill than uphill. I know. Come along with me.”

As the two wandered peacefully back to the place which was meant to be the pasture of the day, Vinzi met them half way. Quite surprised, he asked, “But Stefeli, why did you run away? It was so nice under the tree. I was hearing the most beautiful music. I was just going to ask you if you heard it too, when I found you were gone. Only then I saw you coming back with Schwärzeli.”

Despite being used to her brother’s ways, Stefeli could not help being astonished that he had not been aware of what was going on. She told him about the chase and her great fear that Schwärzeli might gallop straight towards the stream, fall down the banks and drown. It was lucky that the little beast had suddenly become manageable. Stefeli was eager to know what Vinzi had heard in the meanwhile.

“Oh, it is such a shame you did not hear it,” he said, “for one can hardly describe such music. A chorus of deep, strong voices was rising from the tree above me and floating far across the meadow. Then high, clear voices joined in and were lost in the distance till they resembled the sounds of waters far away. Oh, it was so beautiful. Come, we might still hear it if we go back.”

“Go now, Schwärzeli, and behave yourself,” said Stefeli, letting go of the rope by which she had held the heifer. Then she followed Vinzi.

But she had scarcely settled down beside Vinzi when both jumped up again. They noticed simultaneously that the brown cow had strolled as far as a fence which formed the boundary between their own and another pasture. In order to get through she was pushing hard against the boards. Soon the children had fetched her back and the cow was slowly wandering to the proper field. Stefeli discovered an especially inviting spot where fragrant mountain pinks were nodding in the grass. “Come, Vinzi, we’ll stay here. I am sure we couldn’t possibly hear the tunes any more.” To this Vinzi gladly assented. A great peace enveloped the heights, and the cows were quietly wandering about. Schwärzeli was usually either at the head or the rear of them, but she gave no more disorderly leaps. Only when changing ground she trotted about a bit.

The children looked with happy faces at the lovely scene before them. After enjoying it silently for a while, Stefeli said, “I should just love to be a cow-herd all my life. Would you like it, too, Vinzi?”

“No, I should not like it,” was his answer.

“But why not?” Stefeli questioned a little reproachfully. “It couldn’t anywhere be more beautiful than here.”

“Yes, that’s true,” Vinzi admitted, “but I should not like to take care of cows all my life. I should like another profession better than watching them and keeping them from running away.”

“What would you rather do?” Stefeli wanted to know.

After meditating a little Vinzi answered, “I don’t know what the profession is in which I could do what I like best of all.”

“What do you like to do best? I never saw you do it, I think,” Stefeli said, quite surprised that she should not know.

“I like above all to listen to the bells and all the sounds in the branches of the trees. Also those that drift down from the mountains on all sides. Can you hear how it seems to sing everywhere about us? Can you hear it?” Vinzi’s eyes grew more large and gleaming while he listened.

Stefeli pricked up her ears. “Those are only the gnats,” she said in a slightly disdainful voice.

But Vinzi, continued: “When I hear such beautiful sounds I always try to remember them so that I can sing them or imitate them. I wonder how I could do it.”

“But that couldn’t be a real profession,” Stefeli interrupted him.

“That’s what I am afraid of, too,” Vinzi admitted, quite discouraged, “but I can’t help thinking about it all the time. I have cut so many pipes and have tried out what one can play on them. I already have made five; on one I can blow very deep, and on another very high tones, and the others can play middle tones. I was just puzzling out how to play two or three at the same time, so that they could all sound at once like the church bells.”

“You might become a piper,” Stefeli exclaimed, quite happy over her inspiration, “that might be quite a good profession.”

“I don’t know,” Vinzi replied uncertainly. “Father would surely not let me, even if I could. He found my pipes in the barn one day and threw them all away. He told me to think of useful things instead of collecting pipes and thinking about such rubbish.” Poor Vinzi was quite depressed at those memories and it smote Stefeli’s heart.

“You mustn’t get sad on account of that, Vinzi,” she said comfortingly. “I am sure father just meant you not to have the pipes at home in the barn and stable. But why shouldn’t you have them up here in the pasture and think about them. I can easily watch and call out when I need you. Then you can go on cutting your pipes and we can put them into a hole under a tree and take them out when we are up here. I could help you blow them. I’ll blow the high one and you can play the low one and they’ll sound together like the bells.”

But these words failed to give Vinzi thorough consolation. He kept sadly staring at the ground before him and saying nothing more.

“Let’s talk about something else, now,” his sister said decidedly, for she did not like the effect their conversation had had on Vinzi. But before another subject was begun Stefeli started up violently, and calling her brother, flew away. Vinzi, glancing up, ran after her toward a party of strangers, who had been going over a narrow wooden bridge which led across the stream, when a little dog belonging to them suddenly darted into the midst of the cows and yelping loudly, drove them in every direction. The scared animals rushed hither and thither in their fright, and Schwärzeli, with her tail raised high, was galloping to and fro. This urged the dog to still more furious onslaughts. Stefeli rushed after the cows to quiet them, while Vinzi, going straight up to the dog, applied his whip so vigorously that the animal turned about and ran whining after the party. All this had proved to be such hot work that the children sought together the welcome shade under the big tree and flung themselves down there. They felt in need of regaining their breath and cooling off under the deliciously swaying branches. The cows also were peaceful again.

“I wish the dog had been on the side where the path leads up to the pasture,” Vinzi said now, sitting up. “I saw the most brilliant red flower there and it looked perfectly enormous, even from where I was. I never saw a bigger one; I’d run down to get it if it were not so far away. It is getting very hot.”

“Oh, I can find it,” Stefeli said with determination. “If the flower is so wonderful I won’t mind going so far.”

Vinzi was just going to declare himself willing to fetch the flower for Stefeli, when the latter sped away so fast that the boy could not possibly have caught up with her. Therefore he stayed seated and as the noonday bell was ringing in the village below, he forgot everything else in listening to its sounds.

“Here is your flower,” a voice suddenly said beside him as Stefeli laid a brilliant red cloth before her brother. Having been lost in deep thoughts he had not noticed how the time had passed and he could not wonder enough at Stefeli’s speedy return. He meditatively looked at what he had imagined to be a flower. It had the same deep red the flower had had, but he could not help wondering where he had seen that cloth before. “Oh, I know now,” he exclaimed suddenly, “I saw it on the chair near Mrs. Troll’s house where the little girl was. It must belong to her.”

Stefeli also remembered having seen a red object there and besides that she had seen some children in the party near the bridge. They must have been the same children. Vinzi began to consider what to do with the cloth, and as it was best to immediately return to the owner whatever was found, he wanted to run right over to Mrs. Troll’s house and take it along. But Stefeli would not hear of this, because dinner time had come for everyone and there was plenty of time in which to do it later. As soon as Stefeli mentioned lunch, Vinzi suddenly felt how immensely hungry he was and saw that his sister was right. He set to work and gathering thin, dry sticks from under the tree, built a little fire and lit it. As the wood was very dry, the flames leaped up gaily. Stefeli had transformed the grassy ground into an appetizing dinner table, set with two large slices of buttered bread and two snow white eggs which their mother had cooked at home, and which only needed peeling. Stefeli brought the bag near the fire and only waited for the right moment when the wood had burnt low to put the clean round potatoes one after another into the coals. Soon they smoked and sizzled so invitingly that the children were glad when, with a willow stick, they could lift them out of the glowing ashes. As soon as the potatoes had cooled off a bit, the children heartily bit into them and ate them all, including the firmly-baked crust, which was really the best part. They did not despise the rest of their lunch, and Vinzi attacked his bread and butter vigorously, while Stefeli heartily enjoyed her egg. All morning the cows had been pasturing busily, so the time had come for them also to rest a bit. One after the other they lay down on a fine, sunny spot. Even Schwärzeli had settled down, but her little black head moved from side to side in a lively manner which showed that one could not yet quite trust her to be quiet.

The children had neatly cleaned up their place under the tree, for egg-shells and scraps of paper were not to be left on the fine green carpet of their living room. Looking out over the pasture, they were happily enjoying the deep peace about them.

“I might take the shawl back now,” said Vinzi after a while. “Don’t you think the cows will stay quiet till I come back?”

“Yes, I think so,” Stefeli replied. “The big ones are sure to lie down for a while, and if Schwärzeli begins to jump about and wants to run towards the stream, I can lure her here. I kept the salt mother gave us for our eggs, we both took none and Schwärzeli just loves it.”

Vinzi took up the red shawl which Stefeli had neatly folded up and ran away. Despite his speed it was a good quarter of an hour before he stood in front of Mrs. Troll’s house. The front door was open and everything in the house was still. Somebody was apparently hoeing in the garden, it was probably Mrs. Troll herself. Suddenly, however, quite different sounds drew the boy irresistibly up the stairs. Through a half-open door quite near at hand he caught a delightful, gay melody. Walking up close he laid his ear on the door to listen. But as Vinzi, in his desire to hear, had strongly pushed his head against it, it suddenly flew wide open. As soon as the little musician, who was sitting on a high stool before the instrument, saw Vinzi, she sprang up and went to him.

“Oh, did you find my shawl? How quickly you have brought it back!” she called out, spying the shawl in Vinzi’s hand. “It’s lucky for me because Miss Landrat has already scolded me for losing it. As punishment for my carelessness I was to go all the way back where papa and the other gentleman took us this morning. I was to look for it, but as it was so far she refused to go along. I’ll give you some reward for finding it. What would you like to have?”

Vinzi was still gazing full of surprise at the wonder-child, who had played such gorgeous music and was now talking to him exactly as if she had known him a long, long time. Hesitating with his answer, he finally asked a little shyly, “Can I really say what I want?”

“Certainly,” his new acquaintance replied firmly. “But you know,” she continued, “only ask for something I can really give you, not perhaps a boat or a real, live horse.”

“Oh, no, I don’t mean anything like that. I only want to hear the music again.”

“The music? Do you mean the piece I was playing when you came in? But I don’t call that a present. What is your name?” the girl suddenly changed her line of thought.

“Vinzi,” he informed her.

“Is it? My name is Alida Thornau,” she continued. “When I have to practice I find it so dreadfully tiresome that I always play a little piece between whiles. Do you have to practice, too?”

“What is practicing?” asked Vinzi.

“Oh, you are lucky if you don’t know what that is,” Alida exclaimed. “You see, practicing is sitting still on a round stool and playing up and down on a piano with your hands. This is called playing scales, and repeating the same tones about thirty times to and fro is called finger practice.”

“Why do you have to practice?” asked Vinzi, wondering deeply.

“Because one has to obey,” replied Alida, “and I have to practice every day from two to three o’clock because Miss Landrat tells me to. I have no lessons here the way I have in Hamburg. Every time father comes down here I have to promise him to obey Miss Landrat. He is up at the baths with my mother because she is ill.”

“How did you learn to play that beautiful piece?” Vinzi inquired, following all her information with great interest.

“Oh, one can easily do that when one practices so much and knows the notes. All one has to do is to play the notes that are written there,” was Alida’s explanation.

“Oh, you are lucky to be allowed to practice so much,” said Vinzi, gazing at the piano with such an expression of longing that Alida suddenly remembered the reward he had been promised.

“I’ll play you the piece now,” she said. “Shut the door and come near to me so that you can hear it well.”

Vinzi obeyed and expectantly posted himself behind the piano stool.

With an eagerness never before exhibited, Alida played her Spring Song through, never once stopping or hesitating till she came to the end. Never had such a thing happened before! To have such a keen listener had made her able to perform unusually well.

Vinzi stared at her fingers as if her playing were a miracle. In a mirror which hung over the piano Alida had seen how breathlessly he followed her. This pleased her and when she had finished the piece she began it all over again. In the midst of it she suddenly seemed to be struck by a new idea. She paused abruptly and turning about on her chair she asked, “Would you like to learn how to play the piano?”

Vinzi’s eyes sparkled, but only for a moment; in the next he looked at the floor saying sadly, “Oh, I never could do it.”

“Oh, yes, you could easily,” replied Alida with conviction. “I can teach you and you’ll soon know all I know. You can practice with me and that will be heaps more fun than to sit and play here all alone. You can play a little piece like the one you like so much. It won’t take you long. Do you want to?”

Vinzi’s eyes had grown bigger and bigger with surprise and longing. The incomprehensible joy of playing music like that himself, lay suddenly before him. All he had to do was to say yes. Everything was to be so easy and perfectly natural. He could not believe that he might be granted such happiness.

But his great inner emotion kept him from uttering a sound.

“Why don’t you say yes? I am sure you must want to if you like it so much,” Alida said with slight impatience. “You can come here every day at two o’clock because Miss Landrat always takes a walk with Hugo at that time. I am supposed to practice till three and sometimes even longer if they happen to be away. Then we’ll be quite alone and I can teach you everything. We can either play together or take turns.”

When Vinzi saw it so clearly put before him it seemed at last possible. With a voice clearly showing his delight he said, “There is nothing I should love better in this world.”

“So now it’s all settled that you come to me tomorrow,” said Alida with satisfaction, “or do you want to begin today?”

However anxious Vinzi was to do so, he realized that he had already stayed away from Stefeli long enough. But he gladly gave his promise to come the next day, if nothing prevented him from doing so. He could hardly yet believe his good fortune, but Alida’s sureness about the matter proved catching and he ran away in high glee. The thought of what Stefeli would say to the plan chiefly occupied his mind, as he ran along. Maybe she would refuse to be left alone each day and perhaps she would think their father might be angry if he knew. Therefore he still felt slightly uncertain.

When he reached the pasture he found everything in perfect order. The cows were lying on the self-same spots and Schwärzeli was wandering quietly about. He ran to Stefeli, who sat under a tree singing a song.

“What a long time you have been away,” said Stefeli, interrupting her song. “What did she say?”

Vinzi, sitting down beside his sister, began to relate what had happened. She heard of the joyous prospect Alida had offered him, namely, to go to her an hour every day to practice. But he had not yet accepted because he did not know what Stefeli would say to being left alone for a whole hour every day.

Stefeli pondered for a moment. “You can easily do it, Vinzi,” she said eagerly. “I know that it will please you more than anything.”

“Oh, yes, I know it, too,” said Vinzi with gleaming eyes. “Don’t you think that there won’t be much trouble with the cows at that time? They are still quiet.”

“There won’t be any,” Stefeli reassured him. “All the time you were gone they lay still and looked around. Schwärzeli just walked about and it is like this every afternoon.”

Vinzi had known it well, but was glad to have Stefeli’s confirmation. Vinzi’s new prospect had made the children talkative, and they discussed the coming events and their possible consequences. They could talk without any interruption, for the cows were feeding quietly again, as they were supposed to do. All at once the sound of horns could be heard from different sides, warning them that the time had come to drive the cattle home to be milked.

Vinzi leaped up with surprise when he realized how quickly the evening had come. Stefeli took the bag on her arm and her stick in her hand and fetched Schwärzeli from where she was wandering about. Vinzi whistled and called his cows together and before long the children were on their way home with the little herd. The father was already waiting for them near the stable. On the days when the children had to go to the pasture with the cows their work was done for the day when they came home. As soon as their father returned from the stable they had supper, and soon after, when the mother had finished her tasks in the kitchen, she sat down to sing with them; after this they went to bed, and gladly, too, knowing that next morning another early start had to be made.