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Directly he was alone with his wife, he said, "Sit down, for I have something to talk over with you," and when she had done so, he continued savagely, "I've had enough of the boy. He not only does nothing, understands nothing, and is good for nothing on the farm, but now he brings shame and disgrace on us. This is the end; he must go away."
"Oh, what has Vinzi done?" she asked in anxiety. "It is not his way to be mischievous. Vinzenz, tell me, has he done something wicked?"
"Ask him yourself what he has been doing. I've had enough of it. To think of a neighbor telling me it would be better for my boy to be doing something else than running into other people's houses and carrying on! Things have been going on long enough; I'm through. He must go. Away with him!" And in his agitation, he paced the room.
As he seated himself again, his wife said, "I cannot understand what has happened. Vinzi is not the kind to go into people's houses without being invited. There must have been a reason. Let us talk with the boy before we condemn him; he is sure to tell us the truth. Just think, Vinzenz, what it means to send a twelve-year-old boy away; he is certainly much too young for that."
"I'll not oppose your talking with him," replied her husband, "but I tell you this: he has to go. I have had it in mind for a long time, and it is the only way in which he can be helped. He must go some place where he will have no opportunity for such mischief, where there are very few people, and only those who find pleasure in work. I mean people who stay by themselves and who do not mix with strangers."
"But it would first be necessary to know the people," she interrupted forcibly. "You surely do not mean to say our Vinzi should be turned over to anyone just because he takes pleasure in his farm work?"
"Quietly, quietly! I am coming to that," her husband continued in the same tone. "You know that last fall I was up on the Simplon where my cousin Lorenz Lesa lives. He has a farm up there with a few fine cows. It is a small place but everything is kept in excellent order. I took quite a liking to it, and the boy must go there. He'll come to his senses when he sees how happy and contented other boys are with such a life."
"Is it really possible you are going to send our boy away?" lamented his wife. "And high up into the mountains? It must be dreadfully lonesome up there. I can scarcely imagine how it is. I do not know your cousin or his wife. How will they take to a boy sent to them as a good for nothing, whom his parents could not manage? It is as though our Vinzi had become a criminal and was sent into exile."
"You need not get so wrought up about it, my dear," he began. "I am not doing this to punish him, but to bring him up properly. Cousin Lorenz is a good and just man, and will not ill-treat the boy. And Cousin Josepha is an altogether worthy woman who is rearing three boys it is a pleasure to look upon. I have seen them in the midst of their cows and I never heard such yodeling, such a cracking of whips, such joking. They acted as if they were out for a holiday. Our boy will learn from them, nothing can be better than the farm."
Many anxious questions filled her mind, but she knew she could do nothing more. Vinzi must go; that was settled, and she knew of no other place to send him. She only asked her husband how soon he would go; surely they must ask whether the cousins would take him. Then her husband explained that it had been settled between them the fall before that Vinzi was to go to them for the summer and that in return, one of their sons was to spend a summer in their home. It would do the mountain boy good to see a new place and different ways of working, and the other boys might wake up Vinzi. Mr. Lesa added that he believed a man in the valley was planning to drive his cattle over the mountain and that would be a good opportunity to send Vinzi with him.
The mother went to bed that night with a heavy heart, and at dawn went quietly to Vinzi's room to hear what he had done and to prepare him for what was coming. Vinzi woke to find her sitting on the edge of his bed holding his hand in hers.
"Tell me, Vinzi," she began, "now while we are alone together, what you did yesterday to make your father so angry. Were you in mischief? Tell me everything."
Vinzi thought for a moment, then remembered how angrily Mrs. Troll had sent him away. Perhaps his father had heard about that, so he related the whole incident.
A great load fell from the mother's heart; Vinzi had done no wrong. But she understood very well how the neighbor's words had angered her husband, for Vinzi had caused him much secret worry and vexation. She explained to the lad how he had done wrong not to tell her about the matter, and asked if he had not thought he ought to tell them at home before beginning the lessons. Vinzi said candidly that he had feared his father would not give permission, and as he had such an intense desire to learn something about music, both Stefeli and he had decided the afternoon was a good time for him to leave the pasture, and if nothing happened to the cows his father could not say anything. But his mother told him his silence had been wrong, and now he would have to accept the consequences, which she hoped would be for his good. Then she unfolded his father's plan and told how he hoped Vinzi would learn to enjoy farm work and how she prayed he would return so bright and happy that his father would be pleased with him.
In spite of the care his mother took to tell him the decision to send him away, Vinzi's look of alarm brought tears to her eyes, though she was proud he uttered no word of complaint.
Everything went on as usual that day, and the children spent the hours out in the pasture. Stefeli was accustomed to Vinzi's long silences, even though she could not hear all he seemed to hear.
But today, he went too far, and when the silence grew unbearable she said impetuously, "Do say something, Vinzi! It is just as though you were not here at all."
"Well, I won't be much longer," he answered dolefully, and went on to tell her he was going away, high up into the mountains, to people he did not know.
"When do you have to go?" she asked, oppressed in spite of the impossibility of believing the news. When Vinzi was unable to answer that, she exclaimed with relief, "Oh, then it may be such a long time that it will not happen at all. Let's be happy again, Vinzi."
That evening after the children had gone to bed and the parents were sitting alone, the father said he had gone to town to talk with his friend, but found he had left that morning to drive his cattle over the mountain. But there was nothing unfortunate in that; on the contrary. He had been informed that a young workman from Gondo was returning to that town on Monday and as he would make the way from Brig by foot, would have to put up somewhere over night. That would be better for Vinzi; he would not have to walk all the way. They would stay over night at Berisal, where an innkeeper Mr. Lesa knew would give them good accommodation.
Mrs. Lesa had listened silently, but now she said, "Surely you are not going to turn our boy over to a man we know nothing about except that he is going over the mountain?"
"I looked him up immediately," replied her husband, "and talked everything over with him. I am told he is a good honest man, and believe he is all right. All Vinzi needs is a companion, for at twelve a boy is no longer a little child."
"Young enough to go off alone," the mother sighed. "Must it be on Monday?"
"It is best so," said the husband decisively. "When a thing has to be done, it cannot be undertaken too quickly."
"It is a blessing we can give the boy into the keeping of our Father in Heaven," sighed Mrs. Lesa. "It is my only comfort."
"That is true," he replied, glad to know his wife had some consolation. "Well, now everything is in order," he said after a pause. But in spite of his words he pushed his pipe from one corner of his mouth to the other as though there was something in his mind that was not quite in order. "The boy must be told what is going to happen."
"He knows. I told him early this morning. All you have to do is to tell him when," said the mother.
This was welcome news to her husband. So Vinzi had known all day, and had been quiet about it; there was to be no scene such as he had anticipated with dread.
The next day when the afternoon sun shone down on the bench in front of the house, the father seated himself there according to his Sunday custom and called Vinzi to him.
"You know that you are going up to your cousin on the mountain," he began when the boy was sitting beside him. "It is beautiful up there, and you will like it. I am sending you for your own good, and you must not bring shame on your parents. Your fellow-traveler knows the house where you are to go, and you are expected, though they do not know exactly when you will arrive. Just tell them who you are and that I sent you as I arranged. You leave early tomorrow morning with a man who knows all about the trip you have to make."
Vinzi remained silent, which was as his father wished, and to cheer his son just a little, he launched into a description of the merry life of the young cousins on the mountain.
Meanwhile the mother was packing the knapsack which Vinzi would carry and Stefeli followed her about. She had been told what was to happen the next morning and knowing there was no chance to ask questions of her father while he was talking to Vinzi, hoped she could talk to her mother about it. But the knapsack was packed in silence, supper was served and the mother seemed unable to utter a word. She felt she must not betray her grief and make it any harder for Vinzi, but she really had to say a few words to him, and when he was in bed and his room in darkness, she went to him.
"I am glad you have come, mother," he said immediately. "Do you think my cousin will be angry if I happen to forget about his cows? Stefeli always called me if I was not watching."
"I do not know," answered his mother. "You see I do not know your Cousin Lorenz or Cousin Josepha. But I want to ask you, Vinzi, to do the best you can. If they complain or send you back home, your father could not stand it. Never do anything so you dare not look up to your Father in Heaven. Remember when fearful or lonely that He is always above you, that He sees and hears you. That is the best comfort, Vinzi; do not forget it."
Vinzi readily promised he would remember her words, and with that she left him.
Early the following morning the father accompanied Vinzi down to the station where they were to meet his traveling companion.
A DEPARTURE AND AN ARRIVAL
Two letters had just come to Mr. Thornau who was staying at the Leuk baths with his sick wife. One was from his daughter, the other from the governess, and both urged that he pay them a visit. That they wished exactly the same thing gave him no particular pleasure, for he knew from experience that such accord usually arose from some disagreement. Laying the letters on his wife's bed, he said, "That is another summons to go to Leuk, but don't be disturbed about it."
In spite of the gentleman's words, his wife was greatly excited and murmured, "Oh, if we had not sent the children away! It isn't good for them. They should be with us."
"If you want them here, Alida," said her husband, "just say so. You know my only reason for keeping them down below is that you may have greater quiet."
"Yes, I would feel better if you would bring them," replied his wife. "The governess may mean well, but she is too strict, and does not understand children. She is severe when it is unnecessary, and under her training Hugo grows more quiet and reserved and Alida more obstinate and disobedient. Neither of our children is easy to handle."
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"Quite right," agreed her husband. "Alida has my temperament and being a girl needs specially careful guidance. Hugo has your disposition and also your delicate health."
"He also needs special control," added Mrs. Thornau. "You will always deal with him gently, will you not, when I am here no longer?"
"Let us not say another word about it!" protested Mr. Thornau. "I will be on my way to settle this case, for it always takes two hours. I will walk down, but probably ride back."
When Mr. Thornau arrived at Mrs. Troll's house, the door was suddenly thrown open and Alida darted out, for she had seen him coming. Greetings over, the little girl began to pour out her story, but her father checked the flow with:
"Miss Landrat comes first. Then it is your turn," and that was really the way he heard of the matter.
Alida gave a vivid account of Vinzi's banishment by Mrs. Troll, and called Hugo as witness that the boy was by no means a street urchin, but a very nice lad, with whom anyone would much rather be friends than with Mrs. Troll.
The father did not doubt for a moment that there was some new reason for his daughter's sudden enthusiasm about music. But that was not the main issue. He felt some reparation must be made to the boy who had been kind enough to return his daughter's scarf and afterward been offered insult when he came to see her on her invitation. He would call on the boy and his parents and apologize at least, perhaps even make the boy some little present. Much delighted, Alida took the place of guide, for she had learned from Vinzi where he lived.
"I like the looks of this place," said Mr. Thornau, glancing approvingly at the well-kept house, the newly mowed lawn, the swept path, and the scoured bench in the shade of the walnut tree.
"Too bad! Too bad!"
He muttered the last words, but Alida quickly interpreted their meaning and said, "Yes, it is too bad that we don't live here, papa, is it not? But we could soon move here, as our piano is only rented. Then Vinzi could practise with me every day. And how I would like it! Practising alone is dreadfully tedious and that is why I gave him lessons, so he could practise with me."
"So that is the reason of the music lessons! Capital!" said her father, bursting out laughing. "And your pupil was eager to learn?"
"Oh, yes, and so clever!" exclaimed Alida. "Just think, papa, when I explained anything, he often understood it better than I, and would explain it to me."
Her father smiled as he approached the front door, which stood open, and stepping into the hall, he knocked on the first door. At a call to enter, he opened the door into a large sunny room where Mrs. Lesa sat at the window doing some needlework, with Stefeli before her busy with thick knitting needles and coarse yarn.
Mr. Thornau introduced himself and said he had come with his children to express the sincere regret they all felt that her son Vinzi had received such unpleasant treatment from Mrs. Troll. He hoped they could tell the boy how sorry they were and give him some proof of their friendship.
Mrs. Lesa declared she knew nothing of Mrs. Troll's harsh treatment for Vinzi had not complained, but she understood now what had happened; it was Mrs. Troll's words that had stirred Vinzi's father to send the lad away from home. He had left that very morning, and she had been unable to think of anything else since his departure. Begging the gentleman to be seated, she informed him how things had gone with Vinzi.
Alida quickly ran over to Stefeli to ask, "Where is your brother?"
"He has gone away," answered Stefeli.
"Why are you not in the pasture? When he is away I thought you always waited in the pasture until he came back," she said, seeming to know about everything.
"Vinzi is not away for just an hour. He has gone for many weeks, so something different must be done about the cows, though we do not know what," explained Stefeli. "You see I cannot tend them alone. But mama says everything has a good side, and now I will be able to stay in the house and knit woolen stockings to have ready for Vinzi when he comes home."
"I think that belongs to the bad side," said Alida quickly. "The heavy needles will hurt your hands and the thick yarn has cut your forefinger already. Come along out to the barnyard. I hear the hens cackling out there."
Stefeli glanced at her mother who had heard what the children were saying, and when she nodded her head in assent, the two girls ran off.
"Wouldn't you like to go out too?" asked Mrs. Lesa of Hugo, who stood behind his father's chair. "The air will do you good."
"Why, of course, run along with them, Hugo," said his father.
Hugo went quietly outside, and Mr. Thornau continued, "If I understand you rightly, Mrs. Lesa, the boy has been sent away because he takes no interest in the farm, which is to become his life work. But he cannot be a stupid boy, for he accepted with great eagerness my daughter's invitation to give him music lessons, and she tells me he showed unusual ability."
"No, no, there is nothing stupid about him," said Mrs. Lesa forcibly. "The only trouble is his thoughts are ever wandering. If he is in the field with his father and a bell sounds from near or far, the lad is sure to pay attention to nothing else until the sound can be heard no longer. Often it is as though he were listening to something no one else can hear. Of course that has made his father impatient, and he thinks if Vinzi lives with other boys who love farm life, he will like it too. But I do not know how things will go," with a doubtful shake of her head. "This thing is very deep-seated in Vinzi. Even when a little baby, he would stand still when he heard any ringing sound. If he fell and was hurt, if I took him on my lap and sang, he would stop his crying and be happy again."
"That clearly shows your son has an ear for music, delights in it, and probably has considerable talent. He should be trained for the thing for which he is best fitted. True, that takes several years, but he would become a finished musician, be happy and satisfied, and you with him."
"That is not for Vinzi," she said calmly. "His father would never allow his only son to leave home for years and years to study music and then gain an uncertain living among strangers."
"It is queer how things go in this world," remarked Mr. Thornau. "Look at that youngster out there! He is my only son, but if he would express a wish, I would give him anything. If he wished to study, I would be the happiest of men. But what do you think? If I say, 'My son, would you like to learn to ride?' he answers, 'No, I'd rather not.' If I ask him, 'Would you like to learn to play the violin, the flute?' he says, 'No, I'd rather not.' 'Would you like to be a sailor and cross the seas to foreign lands?' 'Oh, no, I'd rather not!' And so it goes with every question. And so I must look with envy at your son who has a decided desire in his heart."
Mrs. Lesa had been watching the boy as he stood leaning against the tree and staring indifferently before him while the two girls played a lively game of tag.
"He cannot be in rugged health," she said sympathetically. "He looks pale and weak. He ought to live out in the meadows."
"Yes, that would be good for him," agreed Mr. Thornau. "He was never very strong, but since my wife has been ill and he has been away from his mother, he has grown even more delicate."
"Then why don't you let him stay with her?" inquired Mrs. Lesa earnestly.
Mr. Thornau smiled and said, "You are a real mother even toward those who do not belong to you; that is good. But, you see, complete rest was ordered for my wife and so I brought the children down here, for when the boy is with his mother, the girl wants to be too, and she is very noisy, though she cannot help it. Now my wife wishes me to bring the children back to her as she worries when they are away. But my visit has lasted long enough, Mrs. Lesa," he said, rising. "However, please permit me to come again; it is pleasant to be with you."
Mrs. Lesa accompanied her visitor outdoors and called the children. Hugo was still leaning against the tree, but came up slowly behind the scampering girls.
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When Stefeli heard her mother invite the gentleman to come again, she said quickly, "You'll come too, Alida? Perhaps I will be in the pasture again and you can visit me there. I'm sure you would like it."
Mr. Thornau and the children wandered back to Mrs. Troll's house, and when they met her in the doorway, he informed her he would be taking his children away in a few days, and while their stay would be shorter than he had expected, he would fulfill his bargain with her. Their mother wished to have them with her, but the chief reason for their removal was he would not allow anyone to suffer for doing a favor to his children.
How changed Mr. Thornau was, to be sure, thought Mrs. Troll as the gentleman walked away. Once so friendly, now so abrupt and formal, and he was going to take the children away. And all on account of that boy across the fields. It was really laughable, thought she, though she did not laugh by any means. She would have been glad enough to recall her angry words to Vinzi, but it was too late, for the carriage Mr. Thornau had ordered for his return had already come.
As the carriage drove up the mountain, Mr. Thornau sat lost in thought. He had received a most pleasant impression of Mrs. Lesa and her household and wished he had known her before he had placed his children with Mrs. Troll. She would have been justified in scorning him and his children, for it was through them her son had been sent away. But she had shown no sign of resentment. He would put an end to the study of the piano for his daughter; if she had any real love of music she would act far differently. At the moment he reached this conclusion, Mr. Thornau was greeted by a pedestrian going in the same direction, whom he recognized as his table-mate at the hotel.
"Oh, Mr. Delrick, what a hermit you are! Always alone!" he called to him, and ordered his driver to stop. "Now jump in, or I shall think my company is not good enough for you."
Mr. Delrick thanked him for the invitation, but declared he was unwilling to give up his daily exercise.
"Then I'll go with you," said Mr. Thornau, leaving his carriage. "I am sure I have news which will please you," and as they wandered along together, he continued, "Tell me, do you intend to turn your back on all society and become a hermit?"
"Matters are not quite so bad as that," said Mr. Delrick, laughing, "but it is true that if I could find a home with simple, orderly people where I could enjoy the beauties of nature in quiet, I would gladly leave the hotel."
"I've found that house!" exclaimed Mr. Thornau in triumph. "That is my news," and launched into an account of the day, of Mrs. Lesa, and her home. "That, Mr. Delrick," he concluded, "is certainly the home for you, and though I know we shall lose you, I cannot help telling you about it, for you have a way with you that one cannot help doing you a favor."
"My dear Mr. Thornau," said his companion, clapping him on the shoulder, "I am most grateful to you, and your description really creates a keen desire to look up the house."
When Vinzenz Lesa left his house next morning to look after his farm work, he saw a stranger approaching, who asked politely, "Might this be the house that belongs to Mr. Lesa, and do I have the honor of speaking to its owner?"
"Yes, sir."
"That is fortunate, for now I place the matter before you myself. My name is Delrick and I come from Dresden. I am stopping at the Leuk baths, but there are too many people there to suit me and so am seeking a quiet house where I may stay for a few weeks. Mr. Thornau drew my attention to your place and now that I see it myself I greatly desire you to take me in, if you will."
"I live here with my wife and child and we do not take in strangers," said Vinzenz Lesa abruptly.
"You are right in that," Mr. Delrick answered pleasantly, "and that is just what I would do in your place."
Mr. Lesa looked at the gentleman in astonishment and then said, "Since we are of the same opinion, our business is done."
"I am afraid it is true," replied Mr. Delrick. "But perhaps you could tell me of some other house; one as much like yours as possible, as quietly and beautifully situated and surrounded by magnificent trees. You have a beautiful farm, Mr. Lesa, and I cannot hope to find such order and care elsewhere."
Vinzenz Lesa was pleased that the gentleman had his eye open to the fact that his farm was better kept than most. True, the condition of the yard and garden was to be credited to his wife. It occurred to him that she would be sitting in the house thinking about her boy; it was time that he had arrived at his cousin's on the mountain. She had scarcely spoken the whole day, and he did not like that. Perhaps the boy's absence might worry her less if she had this gentleman to care for. She had once suggested arranging a room for boarders and it might not be at all disagreeable to spend the evening hours in the company of such a gentleman.
"Such a house as you suggest is not within my knowledge," he said after lengthy deliberation, "but my wife is inside, and you might talk with her. If she agrees, I would be quite willing to have you stay. And now will you excuse me? I have work to attend to," and he held out his hand.
Pleased and surprised over this unexpected turn, Mr. Delrick grasped the offered hand and asked, "Do you mean you will abide by whatever your wife decides?"
"Yes, just that," replied Mr. Lesa as he departed.
On the call to enter after his knocking, Mr. Delrick stepped into the room and found a little girl busy knitting a thick stocking by the window. When he asked if he might speak to her mother, Stefeli said, "Oh, she'll soon be back. When she heard you rap, she went into the other room because she was crying a little."
"Oh, I am so sorry. Has something sad happened to cause your mother to cry?"
"Yes, Vinzi has gone away for the whole summer, and mother doesn't know the people he is with," Stefeli informed him.
"I suppose Vinzi is your brother?" sympathetically. "Why did he have to go away?"
"I don't quite know," answered Stefeli, "but perhaps because he took piano lessons from Alida."
"Well, that is a peculiar thing," remarked Mr. Delrick, smiling. "I suppose you were with your brother a great deal, and you must miss him sadly?"
"Yes, indeed, and so does mother, and he is missed at the pasture too. We were always together. Father has a cowboy now, and mother will not let me go with him. Father said at dinner time the cows won't graze, but run about as if lost, and Schwarzeli wants to jump all the fences, and when the cowboy runs after her, she grows wilder still. I can well believe that, after she has known us so long and so well. Of course she does not know a strange cowboy's voice, and doesn't feel that things are right at all, poor Schwarzeli!"
When Stefeli had gone that far in her story, the door opened and her mother entered. Mr. Delrick explained that he had come to her at her husband's suggestion, but he was not sure he ought to bother her now as he had just learned from her daughter that they were having some sorrow.
"Sometimes it does us good to have to pull ourselves together and have no time to brood over our troubles," said Mrs. Lesa calmly.
"It is still better not to consider a trouble as trouble at all. That makes it easier to bear, don't you think so, Mrs. Lesa?" he asked as though he were an old friend.
"I believe I understand your meaning, though I do not know just how to reply," she answered after a little thought.
"There is no hurry about that," said Mr. Delrick pleasantly. "If you will permit me to live in your house for several months, we will have plenty of time to talk about it."
Mrs. Lesa looked at her visitor in wonder, but the happy surprise that flitted over her face at his words quickly disappeared. "That does not depend upon me alone, sir," she said in her quiet way. "I know my husband will not take strangers into the house, and that decides the matter."
"I have already come to an understanding with Mr. Lesa," explained Mr. Delrick. "He told me himself that he would be satisfied with whatever decision you make."
Mrs. Lesa did not know what to think. Just a short time ago her husband had declared no strangers would be taken in. She suggested Mr. Delrick should first look at the two rooms they could give him, to see if they would suit. If they did, she would talk the matter over with her husband and send him word at his hotel. This pleased Mr. Delrick, for he did not wish to hurry a decision, he said, as he followed her upstairs. The light, airy room with windows to the east through which shone the morning sun attracted him no less than the one to the west with the giant walnut trees to shade it, and he was so loath to leave them that she could not fail to observe it.
When Vinzenz Lesa came home that evening the first thing he said was, "Well, what did you arrange with the gentleman?"
His wife told him she had been unable to give any definite answer without knowing what he thought about the matter. "But, Vinzenz, I believe that if the gentleman comes to stay with us, he will bring us a blessing," she concluded.
"We always have need of that," replied her husband, "so you better let him know at once that he may move in."
IN EXILE
VINZI made the first half of his journey without speaking a word. The thought that he was to live with strangers a long time depressed him, so he did not wish to talk and scarce realized what went on around him.
At Berisal his companion took him to the innkeeper who knew his father, and after the man had plied him with questions about his trip, he thought it best for Vinzi to have his supper and go to bed quickly, as he must be weary with his journey. Indeed, he was so tired, he sank into a sound sleep and did not wake until his fellow-traveler shook him the next morning.
He dressed hurriedly, swallowed his cup of coffee and soon was climbing the mountain with his companion. The pair went along silently, for Vinzi was more and more overcome with fear the nearer he came to his destination.
"Look, my boy!" said his guide suddenly as he stopped his inveterate whistling. "Do you see that gray stone house over there?"
"I see it," he said at last in a low tone.
"We will stop there for something to eat," said his companion. "Then comes the last climb. After that our way is down. You will not have far to go, but I have to go all the way down the valley, so we cannot rest long."
It was all the same to Vinzi whether the halt was long or short, and he had no desire for food. He thought only of his arrival at the house which might be as dismal as this one of gray stone. And then those strangers! Now they reached the summit and the road began to descend.
"What is that?" asked Vinzi, looking timidly at a great building on the left of the road.
"You need not be so frightened," said the young workman. "There's nothing bad about it. On the other hand, it's a fine place. The monks live there who take in travelers in the winter who are half frozen."
"What is that over there?" asked Vinzi a little later, pointing to an ancient tower.
"You are making such eyes at it, would you like to go inside?" asked the young man, laughing. "I would not care to enter those old walls. It is as silent there as if it were the end of the world. But there are old men there. Ten years ago I saw one sitting by the tower, his hair and beard as white as the snow on yonder peak. A year ago I saw him again. Ah, there he is now! Step lively, my boy; you have not much farther to go."
But there was a half hour's brisk walk before his companion pointed down the road and said, "Do you see that little white church, with the few houses beside it? That place is called Near-Chapel. The village is a little lower down, but your cousin lives at Near-Chapel. I'll show you the house and then keep on my road. You cannot miss your way."
When they reached the chapel which stood near the road on a little rise, the guide paused and said, "Well, here we are! Now go to the right past the chapel, to the very last house. There is a barn beside it. Lorenz Lesa lives there. Good-bye and good luck!"
Vinzi shook his hand, and with drooping head said, "Good-bye, and I thank you."
His guide turned and went whistling away.
Vinzi gazed after him, and when he passed out of sight felt he had lost the last home tie; the unknown lay before him. He walked past the chapel to the house that stood beyond. The small stone building near it must be the barn. On the other side of the house was a shed, roofed with shingles and stones, evidently the hayrick, for fodder was stored within.
As the house door was closed and the door of the shed stood open, Vinzi went to the hayrick. That no steps led up to the little door was not surprising to Vinzi; he knew the arrangement. The little shed did not rest on the ground but stood firmly on four blocks, to keep the hay dry and ventilated. As Vinzi knew, it was a case of clambering up to the open door, which was so low a full-grown man had to stoop to enter. Vinzi climbed up nimbly, and found a tall man working inside.
"Good evening!" he called out. "Does this hayrick belong to Lorenz Lesa?"
"It does. What do you wish of him?"
"He is our cousin. I belong to Vinzenz Lesa of Leuk, and my father sends greetings to you. You know why I have come," Vinzi informed him confidently, for he hoped this man was the cousin himself.
Sticking his wooden pitchfork into the hay, the man stepped forward to hear the lad better.
"Well, so you are Vinzi!" he said, giving him his hand and looking him straight in the eyes. "It is good that you have come up to your relatives. Did you make the journey all alone?"
Vinzi's heart went out to the friendly speaker. He no longer gazed at the ground, but looked into the kindly eyes and told about his trip and how glad he was to find his cousin so quickly, for he had been frightened at the thought of coming among strangers.
"There is nothing to be afraid of here," said the man good-naturedly. "The boys aren't exactly tame, but you will get along with them. You must be hungry," he continued, "so we will go to my wife, who will attend to that."
With a spring Vinzi landed on the ground and the cousin followed.
Just then a stout woman opened the door of the house and looked calmly around. "I have to let some of the smoke out through the door," she said to her husband, but she looked inquiringly at the boy at his side.
"I am bringing our young cousin from Leuk," he explained. "He is a bit afraid, so you must see to it his fear doesn't grow," and chuckled.
"You are welcome, young cousin," she said, offered her hand and inspected him from head to foot until her husband said:
"I think it might be just as well to continue your examination indoors. The youngster still carries his knapsack, and if he should happen to get something to eat soon, he would not take it amiss. He has put a stiff march behind him."
"He can eat right away," said she. "Supper is just ready; the smoke drove me from the hearth. I will serve it at once, for we need not wait for the boys; they will soon be coming."
Stepping into the house, she took off Vinzi's knapsack, and the lad was soon comfortably seated at the table. As they ate, all timidity vanished. He was ravenously hungry for he had scarcely eaten on the journey. Somehow his cousin must have guessed this, and long before his plate was empty, had heaped it again. Vinzi thought he had never eaten anything better than the steaming potatoes and the lovely yellow cheese.
Now and again the wife would say, "Pour out some more milk for the boy. He must be thirsty after all the wind and dust on that long trip."
Suddenly there arose a great hubbub, with loud huzzas and much whip cracking.
"It is the boys," explained his Cousin Lorenz; "they have brought the cattle. I must go out and help them. But perhaps you would like to come out and see the cattle and the stable?"
"Let him rest tonight," said Josepha. "Tomorrow, he can start the day with the boys."
"I only asked because boys always like to be around when there is something going on," her husband replied. "But Vinzi is free to do as he likes."
"Then I'd like to stay here," chose Vinzi.
It pleased her that Vinzi was glad to stay indoors, and first of all, he must have another cup of milk for she declared it was needed to lay the last dust of the journey.
Then she seated herself comfortably in her chair, saying, "Now tell me about your people and how things are going at home."
Vinzi needed no second invitation for he had been thinking about what his mother would be doing then, wondering how Stefeli was faring alone in the pasture, and how everything was getting along without him.
Now there was a great tramping outside, the door was thrown open and a youngster about Vinzi's age came rushing in. A little chap hurried behind him, and then a taller boy followed who evidently did not wish to be last, for giving a quick spring, he tried to vault over the smallest boy by lifting himself on the little fellow's shoulders. But the sly youngster ducked down and the bigger fellow fell headlong with a thud.
"You shouldn't come in, in such an unmannerly way, Faz," said the mother calmly.
"Good evening, cousin!" exclaimed the eldest boy, holding out his hand to Vinzi.
"Good evening, cousin!" called out the second boy also, and "Good evening, cousin!" greeted the youngest, pressing up to Vinzi.
While Vinzi was shaking the proffered hands, the father had come in, and as he sat down he said, "Well, now you must learn one another's names, boys. Your cousin is called Vinzi. That is for Vinzenz. My three are Joseph, Boniface and Maurus. Those are their calendar names, but here at home we call them Jos, Faz and Russli. Now I think you had better take your places at the table."
Now that quiet had been restored so that she could be heard, the mother said, "As our cousins did not inform us they were sending their son to us, we did not make ready for him. I have been thinking if he is to sleep in the house, the storeroom will have to be emptied of the rye and corn and all sorts of stuff. But the squeaking and scratching of the mice might scare him. Wouldn't it be better, if I made up a comfortable bed in the hayrick for him?"
"I will be glad to sleep in the hayrick," answered Vinzi.
"Just what I thought!" said the wife, greatly pleased that everything upstairs could remain as it was. "You will have to have a little table, a bench and a chest of drawers to be comfortable," she added, "and when you have finished eating, boys, you can carry them out for him."
She bustled off, and her three sons soon followed, and as Vinzi thought perhaps he could help, he would have gone too. But his cousin beckoned him back, declaring his knapsack had been enough of a load for that day; it was none too light, and hanging it on his arm, they went out to the hayrick.
They had scarcely reached it when the three boys came hurrying along. Jos carried the chest on his back, Faz the little table with a quilt on top of it, Russli a bench, and the mother followed with pillow and sheets. With an agility that clearly showed she was used to climbing into the hayrick, she was in at the little door, ready to take one thing after another as her husband lifted them up.
When the last had been put in, his cousin said, "Now we'll say good-night. Inside the door is a wooden bolt, just like the one outside. With it fastened, you are sole master of your castle."
And now his wife came down, saying, "There, everything is ready for you. See, young cousin, down there is the brook, and that will be your washroom. No one will disturb you. You will find a towel on your bench. Sleep soundly!"
The three boys also wished him good-night, but Jos turned around again to say, "Are you coming with us early in the morning, when we drive the cows out, Vinzi? And will you stay with us all day while we are herding?"
"Why, of course," answered Vinzi, "but you must tell me which cows I have to watch most carefully. Will you wake me so I am not late?"
"Yes, I'll call good and loud through the round air hole," promised Jos.
Now Vinzi was alone. He climbed up to his little door and looked into the hayrick. There in one corner on a high soft pile of hay, his bed was made. Beside it, the hay had been pushed away to make room for the little table and bench, and the chest stood against the wall. It was a most comfortable little room. But he could not go to sleep yet, for he was quite excited with all the experiences of the day.
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Sitting on the beam which formed the sill of his door, he looked outside. The heavens were studded with brilliant stars. Then the moon rose from behind the mountains, lighting up the dark trees and meadows. The little church beyond gleamed white and the snow-capped mountains towering above the rocky cliffs became clearer and brighter every minute. Vinzi's eyes grew bigger and bigger. In his great fear of what lay ahead of him, he had seen little else than the gray stone house on his journey. But how different was this scene from anything he had pictured!
There was no wilderness of stones about him. The moonlight fell on a green earth and turned the tips of the larch trees yonder to silver. The ripple of the brook alone broke the deep silence. Vinzi listened to the beautiful tune and the notes became fuller and fuller; he heard whole melodies. He must have sat there a long time listening when a sudden gust of wind blew the door against his knee and startled him out of his dreaming.
He had never seen the stars so brilliant. The words of his mother, how the Lord was always above him, looked down on him and heard him, reached his heart as never before. Surely he was near Heaven there, and he was filled with gratitude to the God who had let him find good where he had feared only evil. His cousins had received him as a friend and he was already quite at home with them. He wished he might sing a loud hymn of praise out into the night, but it was too late for that; not a candle gleamed in any of the cottages.
So he closed his little door, bolted it, and sought his bed. It was soft and comfortable. Not a straw could prick him through the heavy linen sheets. He gazed at the brilliant star that shone through the air hole opposite his bed. Even when his eyelids tried to close, he opened them to gaze again. Yes, the star still shone on him, and when he fell asleep, it was with a wonderful melody resounding in his ears. The star was singing to Vinzi, and he heard it in his dreams.
The next morning he was awakened by a dreadful hubbub, for his name was being shouted by numerous voices. Stefeli, thought Vinzi, had never made such a noise when she came to wake him. But then he suddenly saw where he was and knew the voices that kept shouting louder and louder. Perhaps they had been calling for a long time. Hastily stepping into his clothes, he threw his door open and leaped down among his noisy cousins.
"Hurry up! Come along!" they chorused.
Vinzi replied that he had not washed yet so they should go along and he would follow. The two elder boys ran off, but Russli went to the stream with him, saying confidentially, "You don't need to wash; no one will ever notice it."
"No, Russli," objected Vinzi. "One must wash every morning. Besides, it makes one feel better. Oh, the lovely cool water!" And Vinzi knelt down by the brook and splashed the clear water over his face time and time again, and then drank one handful after the other.
Now he looked so fresh and happy that Russli, full of the pleasure of imitation, said, "I'll wash with you tomorrow morning, and drink too. I'll do it every day."
When they reached the house, the cousin and his wife were still at the breakfast table. Both gave Vinzi a friendly greeting, and Josepha set a large cup of coffee before him, suggesting that he eat plenty of bread with it, for the fresh mountain breeze would soon make him hungry.
When his Cousin Lorenz rose from the table, Vinzi followed him out to the stable where Jos and Faz were cracking their whips as a sign they were ready. Their father now released the cows one after the other and the procession started off to the pasture which lay a considerable distance beyond the chapel. Russli walked beside Vinzi and held him firmly by the hand, trying to hold him back as much as he could.
Jos and Faz had all they could do to keep the cows on the roadway and to urge them along, for fresh grass tempted them now to one side, now to the other.
"Let me go, Russli," said Vinzi, pressing forward. "Can't you see I must help your brothers with the cows?"
"You had better keep Russli in order," called out Faz. "That will be helping us most. The little chap is always tickling the cows with his switch so they scatter in all directions and we can scarcely control them. He is a mischievous little mite, and you'd better hang on to him," and as the obstinate cow with which he had been struggling decided to move on, Faz ran ahead to the herd.
"Vinzi," said Russli, quite happy that he could have his cousin all to himself, "have you a knife?"
"Why, yes, of course. I need one."
"Then I'll show you a great bush that makes fine switches. Strong ones, you know; not brittle. Will you cut me a few?"
"What do you want a switch for?" asked Vinzi. "I hope you do not want to whip the cows. You heard what Faz told me about you."
"Oh, I only tease them a little," said Russli. "Then they jump up in the air and are awfully funny."
"But it's not funny for them," answered Vinzi. "They jump from fright. Those thin switches hurt, and I'll cut none for you. But I will make something else if the wood is the right kind. Show me the bush."
Russli ran eagerly ahead and soon turned off the road across a pasture, until he reached a large bush whose branches grew straight up into the air.
"Here!" he called to Vinzi.
Highly pleased with the bush, Vinzi began to cut the branches he liked best, and when he had a bunch of them, he said, "Now, come along, we must go over to your brothers. Do you know where they are? I can't see them any more. Then I will do the cutting for you."
Russli ran along, followed by Vinzi, who suddenly paused to exclaim, "Oh, how lovely it is here! But when do we get to the pasture?"
"We are in the pasture now," said Russli.
Vinzi looked around him. Here and there stood tall, dark larches, through whose delicate branches one could glimpse the blue of the heavens above. Beneath their feet stretched the lovely green of the mountain pasture land, brightened by the fiery red alpine roses which grew amongst the moss-covered stones. A full mountain stream rushed along its course, and the rocks that hindered its passage tossed it high into snow white foam. So this was the pasture!
Vinzi saw the cows a short distance away peacefully browsing beneath the trees. The sunlight fell through the trees on the glowing flowers and sparkled on the stream's clear waters. The mountain breeze started the shadows playing under the larches, and called forth a soft singing in their branches.
The tuneful rustling seemed to swell, then to die away in the distance. Vinzi stood motionless, gazing and listening.
"When will you begin cutting what you promised?" asked Russli at last when his patience was entirely exhausted.
"Yes, I'm coming," said Vinzi, as though waking out of a dream.
Vinzi now ran off to where the cows grazed and looked about for his cousins. Across the road was a very large treeless pasture in which browsed many cattle. A small group of young herders were bending over a smoking spot on the ground. Jos and Faz were among them, Vinzi saw that. He called out to Jos with all his might, but in vain for some time, but as soon as Jos heard him he came over to him.
"Come over to us, Vinzi," he called as he ran up. "We are making a fire, or rather a smoke. One of the boys has found a hole, and there is an animal in it, perhaps a marmot. We think we can smoke it out. Come along, it is real fun."
"No, I would rather not," replied Vinzi who found no pleasure in seeing a frightened little animal jump out of its hole, with boys to chase it and frighten it more.
"Besides, I have promised Russli to go back immediately. I want to ask you something. Do you think your father would mind if I cut a pipe for Russli?"
"Mind? What are you thinking about? I don't see any reason why he should!" exclaimed Jos. "You can be sure father will not be displeased and we will be only too glad if you keep the little mischief away. He makes the cows so wild we are kept busy running after them."
"But ought I not to help you with the herding?" asked Vinzi. "May I just sit and cut pipes?"
"You will help us that way more than any other," declared Jos.
Vinzi was highly pleased over this division of labor, and hurried back to Russli. Seating himself on a mossy stone where the reddish-purple violets perfumed the air, he selected a branch, and cut it off where it started to grow more slender, and began to work on the thicker piece.
"What is it going to be when it is finished?" asked Russli, who looked on with deep interest.
"It will be a pipe," answered Vinzi.
In happy astonishment, Russli pressed closer to the carver so as to lose nothing of the process of this marvelous work. He knew the little reed pipes that broke so quickly, but he had never seen such a long, thick wooden pipe.
Vinzi had discovered much since he made his first pipe. Now he cut several small holes, for that way he could get several notes. But it took much time, for it was not easy to bore the little round holes, and Vinzi was very exact in his work. Several hours were spent on it, for between times Vinzi stopped to listen to the way the wind sang through the tall trees and to the murmur of the stream, sometimes one of joy, sometimes one of gentle complaint. Then too, he paused to breathe in the perfume of the violets. But at last he closed his knife and said, "There, Russli, take it; your pipe is ready."
With flashing eyes the happy boy put the pipe to his mouth and blew a high, piercing shriek. Russli himself was frightened at it.
Handing over the instrument to Vinzi, he said, "Now you play on it," but at that moment there resounded a shrill whistle and then another. Clearly it was a call.
"It is time to eat," explained Russli. "That's the way they always whistle when we are to gather for lunch. Come along!"
"A pipe! Look at my pipe!" he called out to his brothers as he drew near where they were already sitting on the grass eating. When Russli saw this, he looked searchingly around, then ran to where his lunch-bag lay, and quickly pulling out what was meant for him, held it out to Vinzi.
"Here, take it," said he. "This is yours; the others have already taken theirs."
As soon as Jos had finished eating, he called out from where he sat, "Here, Russli, give me the pipe, I want to try it."
"Come and get it then," said Russli drily.
Vinzi had jumped up to take it over to Jos, but evidently he had a feeling that if he wanted it, it was for him to fetch it, and he quickly came up, as did Faz also, who called out, "Show it to me too." But Jos was already holding it to his mouth and warded Faz off. Jos knew something about how the fingers had to be placed on the holes in order to produce different notes, and he succeeded, though they were very discordant and harsh.
"You do not know how! Just give it to me!" cried Faz, grabbing the pipe, but in his hands it shrilled and screeched.
"It looks so pretty," said Jos with regret. "We have never been able to make so nice a one, but it does not sound well."
Taking the pipe from Faz, Vinzi said, "I will give it a trial myself," and began to play a little tune.
The notes followed one another so clearly, so beautifully, they all stood spellbound, and when Vinzi stopped, Jos exclaimed eagerly, "Oh, you play it well. Teach me!"
"Me too," added Faz.
"And me too," shouted little Russli.
"Give me the pipe," urged Jos.
"No, give it to me," demanded Faz.
But Russli had grabbed his property and ran away, fearing the stronger boys would rob him of it.
"Let him have it," said Vinzi, "and I will make each of you one."
The promise quieted the brothers but no amount of calling could bring Russli back, and finally Vinzi had to run after him, to persuade him he would not lose his valuable property. Now the boys seated themselves in a close circle for all wanted to see how Vinzi did it. He was kept playing on and on, everything he knew, and when he had no more tunes, he made up melodies from the sound of the bells and the song of the birds he had heard.
As he played on, his audience had grown, for the boys from the other pastures had waited in vain for Faz and Jos and one after another had come seeking them. Once there, they tarried, for the music pleased them all, and the afternoon slipped away unnoticed.
Suddenly one of the crowd called out, "It's six o'clock! I hear the horn!"
They quickly scattered, but one after another called back to Vinzi, "Bring it tomorrow! Bring it with you tomorrow!"