Johanna Spyri: Heidi

But Barbie did not mean to lose this excellent opportunity of getting to know more about the old man. She came from Prättigau, farther down the valley, and had only lived in Dörfli a short while, just since her marriage, so she still had much to learn about her neighbours. She was very anxious to know why the old man lived up on the mountain like a hermit, and why people were reluctant to talk about him as they did, freely enough, about everyone else. They didn’t approve of him, that much was certain, but they seemed afraid to say anything against him. And then, why was he always called ‘Uncle Alp’? He couldn’t be uncle to everyone in the village, but no one ever called him anything else, even Barbie used that name too. And here was her friend Detie, who was related to him and had lived all her life in Dörfli, until a year ago. Then her mother had died, and she had found a good job in a big hotel at Ragaz. She had come from there that morning with Heidi, with the help of a lift on a hay cart as far as Mayenfeld.

Now Barbie took her arm, and said coaxingly, ‘You could at least tell me how much of what they say is true, and how much only gossip. Come on now, do explain why he’s so against everyone, and why everyone is afraid of him. Has he always been like that?’

‘That I can’t say for certain. I’m only twenty‐six and he must be seventy or more, so I never knew him in his young days. All the same, if I could be sure that you wouldn’t pass it on to everyone in Prättigau, I could tell you plenty about him. He and my mother both came from Domleschg.’

‘Go on, Detie, what do you take me for?’ protested Barbie, half offended. ‘We aren’t such gossips as all that in Prättigau, and anyway I’m quite capable of holding my tongue when I want to. Do tell me. I promise not to pass it on.’

‘All right then — but mind you keep your word!’

Detie glanced round to make sure that Heidi was not within earshot, but she was nowhere to be seen. She must have stopped following them some way back, and they had been too busy talking to notice. Detie stood still and looked in all directions. The path twisted and zigzagged down the mountainside, but she could see down it almost as far as Dörfli and there was nobody in sight anywhere along it.

‘Ah, there she is,’ cried Barbie suddenly, ‘can’t you see her?’ She pointed to a little figure far below. ‘Look, she’s climbing up the slopes with Peter and his goats. I wonder why he’s taking them up so late today. Well, he’ll keep an eye on her all right and you can get on with your story.’

‘Peter needn’t bother himself,’ said Detie. ‘She can look after herself, though she’s only five. She’s got all her wits about her. She knows how to make the best of things too, which is just as well, seeing that the old man’s got nothing now but his hut and two goats.’

‘I suppose he was better off once?’ asked Barbie.

‘I should just think he was. Why, he had one of the best farms in Domleschg. He was the elder son, with one brother, a quiet respectable fellow. But old Uncle wanted nothing but to ape the gentry and travel about all over the place. He got into bad company, and drank and gambled away the whole property. His poor parents died, literally died, of shame and grief when they heard of it. His brother was ruined too, of course. He took himself off, dear knows where, and nobody ever heard of him again. Uncle disappeared too. He had nothing left but a bad name. No one knew where he’d gone to, but after a while it came out that he had joined the army and was in Naples. Then no more was heard of him for twelve or fifteen years.’ Detie was enjoying herself. ‘Go on,’ Barbie cried breathlessly.

‘Well, one day he suddenly reappeared in Domleschg with a young son, and wanted some of his relations to look after the boy. But he found all doors closed against him. Nobody wanted to have anything to do with him.’

‘Whew!’ came in a whistle from Barbie.

‘He was so angry he vowed he would never set foot in the place again. So he came to Dörfli and settled down there with the boy, who was called Tobias. People thought he must have met and married his wife down in the south. Apparently she died soon afterwards, though nothing is known for certain. He had saved a little money, enough to apprentice his boy to a carpenter. Tobias was a good sort and everyone in the village liked him — but no one trusted the old man! It was said that he had deserted from the army at Naples, so as to avoid some trouble about killing a man — not in battle, you understand, but in a brawl. All the same we accepted him as a member of the family. His grandmother and my mother’s grandmother were sisters, so we called him Uncle, and as we’re related to almost everyone in Dörfli, one way or another, the whole village soon called him Uncle too. Then, when he went to live right up there on the mountain, it became Uncle Alp.’

‘And what happened to Tobias?’ Barbie asked eagerly.

‘Give me a chance! I was just coming to that,’ Detie snapped at her. ‘Tobias was apprenticed to a carpenter in Mels, but as soon as he had learnt his trade, he came home to Dörfli and married my sister Adelheid. They had always been fond of each other. They settled down very happily together as man and wife, but that didn’t last long. Only two years later he was killed by a falling beam while he was helping to build a house. Poor Adelheid got such a shock when she saw him carried home like that, that she fell ill with a fever, and never walked again. She had not been very strong before and used to have queer turns when it was hard to tell whether she was asleep or awake. She only survived him by a few weeks. That set tongues wagging of course. People said it was Uncle’s punishment for his mis‐spent life. They told him so to his face, and the pastor told him he ought to do penance to clear his conscience. That made him more angry than ever, and morose too. He wouldn’t speak to anyone after the pastor’s visit, and his neighbours began to keep out of his way. Then one day we heard that he’d gone to live up on the mountain and wasn’t coming down any more. He’s actually stayed up there from that day to this, at odds with God and man, as they say. My mother and I took Adelheid’s baby girl to live with us. She was only about a year old when she was left an orphan. Then, when mother died last summer I wanted to get a job in the town, so I took Heidi up to Pfäffersdorf and asked old Ursula to look after her. I managed to get work in the town right through the winter, as I’m handy with my needle and there was always someone who wanted sewing or mending done. Then early this year that family from Frankfurt came again, the people I waited on last year, and now, as I told you, they want me to go back with them, and they’re leaving the day after tomorrow. It’s a first‐rate job, I can tell you.’

‘And you’re going to hand that child over to the old man, just like that? I’m surprised that you can even think of such a thing, Detie,’ Barbie told her reproachfully.

‘Well, what else can I do?’ demanded Detie angrily. ‘I’ve done my best for her all these years, but obviously I can’t saddle myself with a five‐year‐old child on this job. Look, we’re half way up to Uncle’s now,’ she went on. ‘Where are you going, Barbie?’

‘I want to see Peter’s mother. She does spinning for me in the winter. So this is where I leave you. Goodbye, Detie, and good luck.’

Detie stood watching as Barbie went towards a little brown wooden hut sheltering in a small hollow a few yards from the path. It was so dilapidated that it was a good thing that it got some protection from the full force of the mountain gales. Even so, it must have been wretched to live in, as all the doors and windows rattled every time the wind blew and its rotten old beams creaked and shook. If it had been built in a more exposed position, it would certainly have been blown down into the valley long ago.