CHAPTER XIII. A SUMMER EVENING ON THE MOUNTAIN
Herr Sesemann, a good deal irritated and excited, went quickly
upstairs and along the passage to Fraulein Rottenmeier's room,
and there gave such an unusually loud knock at the door that the
lady awoke from sleep with a cry of alarm. She heard the master
of the house calling to her from the other side of the door,
"Please make haste and come down to me in the dining-room; we
must make ready for a journey at once." Fraulein Rottenmeier
looked at her clock: it was just half-past four; she had never
got up so early before in her life. What could have happened?
What with her curiosity and excitement she took hold of
everything the wrong way, and it was a case with her of more
haste less speed, for she kept on searching everywhere for
garments which she had already put on.
Meanwhile Herr Sesemann had gone on farther and rung the bells in
turn which communicated with the several servants' rooms, causing
frightened figures to leap out of bed, convinced that the ghost
had attacked the master and that he was calling for help. One by
one they made their appearance in the dining-room, each with a
more terrified face than the last, and were astonished to see
their master walking up and down, looking well and cheerful, and
with no appearance of having had an encounter with a ghost. John
was sent off without delay to get the horses and carriage ready;
Tinette was ordered to wake Heidi and get her dressed for a
journey; Sebastian was hurried off to the house where Dete was in
service to bring the latter round. Then Fraulein Rottenmeier,
having at last accomplished her toilet, came down, with
everything well adjusted about her except her cap, which was put
on hind side before. Herr Sesemann put down her flurried
appearance to the early awakening he had caused her, and began
without delay to give her directions. She was to get out a trunk
at once and pack up all the things belonging to the Swiss
child--for so he usually spoke of Heidi, being unaccustomed to
her name--and a good part of Clara's clothes as well, so that the
child might take home proper apparel; but everything was to be
done immediately, as there was no time for consideration.
Fraulein Rottenmeier stood as if rooted to the spot and stared in
astonishment at Herr Sesemann. She had quite expected a long and
private account of some terrible ghostly experience of his during
the night, which she would have enjoyed hearing about in the
broad daylight. Instead of this there were these prosaic and
troublesome directions, which were so unexpected that she took
some time to get over her surprise and disappointment, and
continued standing awaiting further explanation.
But Herr Sesemann had no thought or time for explanations and
left her standing there while he went to speak to Clara. As he
anticipated, the unusual commotion in the house had disturbed
her, and she was lying and listening and wondering what had
happened. So he sat down and told her everything that had
occurred during the past night, and explained that the doctor had
given his verdict and pronounced Heidi to be in a very highly
strung state, so that her nightly wanderings might gradually lead
her farther and farther, perhaps even on to the roof, which of
course would be very dangerous for her. And so they had decided
to send her home at once, as he did not like to take the
responsibility of her remaining, and Clara would see for herself
that it was the only thing to do. Clara was very much distressed,
and at first made all kinds of suggestions for keeping Heidi with
her; but her father was firm, and promised her, if she would be
reasonable and make no further fuss, that he would take her to
Switzerland next summer. So Clara gave in to the inevitable, only
stipulating that the box might be brought into her room to be
packed, so that she might add whatever she liked, and her father
was only too pleased to let her provide a nice outfit for the
child. Meanwhile Dete had arrived and was waiting in the hall,
wondering what extraordinary event had come to pass for her to be
sent for at such an unusual hour. Herr Sesemann informed her of
the state Heidi was in, and that he wished her that very day to
take her home. Dete was greatly disappointed, for she had not
expected such a piece of news. She remembered Uncle's last words,
that he never wished to set eyes on her again, and it seemed to
her that to take back the child to him, after having left it with
him once and then taken it away again, was not a safe or wise
thing for her to do. So she excused herself to Herr Sesemann with
her usual flow of words; to-day and to-morrow it would be quite
impossible for her to take the journey, and there was so much to
do that she doubted if she could get off on any of the following
days. Herr Sesemann understood that she was unwilling to go at
all, and so dismissed her. Then he sent for Sebastian and told
him to make ready to start: he was to travel with the child as
far as Basle that day, and the next day take her home. He would
give him a letter to carry to the grandfather, which would
explain everything, and he himself could come back by return.
"But there is one thing in particular which I wish you to look
after," said Herr Sesemann in conclusion, "and be sure you attend
to what I say. I know the people of this hotel in Basle, the name
of which I give you on this card. They will see to providing
rooms for the child and you. When there, go at once into the
child's room and see that the windows are all firmly fastened so
that they cannot be easily opened. After the child is in bed,
lock the door of her room on the outside, for the child walks in
her sleep and might run into danger in a strange house if she
went wandering downstairs and tried to open the front door; so
"Oh! then that was it?" exclaimed Sebastian, for now a light was
thrown on the ghostly visitations.
"Yes, that was it! and you are a coward, and you may tell John he
is the same, and the whole household a pack of idiots." And with
this Herr Sesemann went off to his study to write a letter to
Alm-Uncle. Sebastian remained standing, feeling rather foolish.
If only I had not let that fool of a John drag me back into the
room, and had gone after the little white figure, which I should
do certainly if I saw it now!" he kept on saying to himself; but
just now every corner of the room was clearly visible in the
Meanwhile Heidi was standing expectantly dressed in her Sunday
frock waiting to see what would happen next, for Tinette had only
woke her up with a shake and put on her clothes without a word of
explanation. The little uneducated child was far too much beneath
her for Tinette to speak to.
Herr Sesemann went back to the dining-room with the letter;
breakfast was now ready, and he asked, "Where is the child?"
Heidi was fetched, and as she walked up to him to say
"Good-morning," he looked inquiringly into her face and said,
"Well, what do you say to this, little one?"
Heidi looked at him in perplexity.
"Why, you don't know anything about it, I see," laughed Herr
Sesemann. "You are going home today, going at once."
"Home," murmured Heidi in a low voice, turning pale; she was so
overcome that for a moment or two she could hardly breathe.
"Don't you want to hear more about it?"
"Oh, yes, yes!" exclaimed Heidi, her face now rosy with delight.
"All right, then," said Herr Sesemann as he sat down and made her
a sign to do the same, "but now make a good breakfast, and then
off you go in the carriage."
But Heidi could not swallow a morsel though she tried to do what
she was told; she was in such a state of excitement that she
hardly knew if she was awake or dreaming, or if she would again
open her eyes to find herself in her nightgown at the front door.
"Tell Sebastian to take plenty of provisions with him," Herr
Sesemann called out to Fraulein Rottenmeier, who just then came
into the room; "the child can't eat anything now, which is quite
natural. Now run up to Clara and stay with her till the carriage
comes round," he added kindly, turning to Heidi.
Heidi had been longing for this, and ran quickly upstairs. An
immense trunk was standing open in the middle of the room.
"Come along, Heidi," cried Clara, as she entered; "see all the
things I have had put in for you--aren't you pleased?"
And she ran over a list of things, dresses and aprons and
handkerchiefs, and all kinds of working materials. "And look
here," she added, as she triumphantly held up a basket. Heidi
peeped in and jumped for joy, for inside it were twelve beautiful
round white rolls, all for grandmother. In their delight the
children forgot that the time had come for them to separate, and
when some one called out, "The carriage is here," there was no
time for grieving.
Heidi ran to her room to fetch her darling book; she knew no one
could have packed that, as it lay under her pillow, for Heidi had
kept it by her night and day. This was put in the basket with the
rolls. Then she opened her wardrobe to look for another treasure,
which perhaps no one would have thought of packing--and she was
right--the old red shawl had been left behind, Fraulein.
Rottenmeier not considering it worth putting in with the other
things. Heidi wrapped it round something else which she laid on
the top of the basket, so that the red package was quite
conspicuous. Then she put on her pretty hat and left the room.
The children could not spend much time over their farewells, for
Herr Sesemann was waiting to put Heidi in the carriage. Fraulein
Rottenmeier was waiting at the top of the stairs to say good-bye
to her. When she caught sight of the strange little red bundle,
she took it out of the basket and threw it on the ground. "No,
no, Adelaide," she exclaimed, "you cannot leave the house with
that thing. What can you possibly want with it!" And then she
said good-bye to the child. Heidi did not dare take up her little
bundle, but she gave the master of the house an imploring look,
as if her greatest treasure had been taken from her.
"No, no," said Herr Sesemann in a very decided voice, "the child
shall take home with her whatever she likes, kittens and
tortoises, if it pleases her; we need not put ourselves out about
that, Fraulein Rottenmeier."
Heidi quickly picked up her bundle, with a look of joy and
gratitude. As she stood by the carriage door, Herr Sesemann gave
her his hand and said he hoped she would remember him and Clara.
He wished her a happy journey, and Heidi thanked him for all his
kindness, and added, "And please say good-bye to the doctor for
me and give him many, many thanks." For she had not forgotten
that he had said to her the night before, 'It will be all right
to-morrow,' and she rightly divined that he had helped to make it
so for her. Heidi was now lifted into the carriage, and then the
basket and the provisions were put in, and finally Sebastian took
his place. Then Herr Sesemann called out once more, "A pleasant
journey to you," and the carriage rolled away.
Heidi was soon sitting in the railway carriage, holding her
basket tightly on her lap; she would not let it out of her hands
for a moment, for it contained the delicious rolls for
grandmother; so she must keep it carefully, and even peep inside
it from time to time to enjoy the sight of them. For many hours
she sat as still as a mouse; only now was she beginning to
realize that she was going home to the grandfather, the mountain,
the grandmother, and Peter, and pictures of all she was going to
see again rose one by one before her eyes; she thought of how
everything would look at home, but this brought other thoughts to
her mind, and all of a sudden she said anxiously, "Sebastian, are
you sure that grandmother on the mountain is not dead?"
"No, no," said Sebastian, wishing to soothe her, "we will hope
not; she is sure to be alive still."
Then Heidi fell back on her own thoughts again. Now and then she
looked inside the basket, for the thing she looked forward to
most was laying all the rolls out on grandmother's table. After a
long silence she spoke again, "If only we could know for certain
that grandmother is alive!"
"Yes, yes," said Sebastian, half asleep; "she is sure to be
alive, there is no reason why she should be dead."
After a while sleep fell on Heidi too, and after her disturbed
night and early rising she slept so soundly that she did not wake
till Sebastian shook her by the arm and called to her, "Wake up,
wake up! we shall have to get out directly; we are just in
There was a further railway journey of many hours the next day.
Heidi again sat with her basket on her knee, for she would not
have given it up to Sebastian on any consideration; to-day she
never even opened her mouth, for her excitement, which increased
with every mile of the journey, kept her speechless. All of a
sudden, before Heidi expected it, a voice called out,
"Mayenfeld." She and Sebastian both jumped up, the latter also
taken by surprise. In another minute they were both standing on
the platform with Heidi's trunk, and the train was steaming away
down the valley. Sebastian looked after it regretfully, for he
preferred the easier mode of travelling to a wearisome climb on
foot, especially as there was danger no doubt as well as fatigue
in a country like this, where, according to Sebastian's idea,
everything and everybody were half savage. He therefore looked
cautiously to either side to see who was a likely person to ask
the safest way to Dorfli.
Just outside the station he saw a shabby-looking little cart and
horse which a broad-shouldered man was loading with heavy sacks
that had been brought by the train, so he went up to him and
asked which was the safest way to get to Dorfli.
"All the roads about here are safe," was the curt reply.
So Sebastian altered his question and asked which was the best
way to avoid falling over the precipice, and also how a box could
be conveyed to Dorfli. The man looked at the box, weighing it
with his eye, and then volunteered if it was not too heavy to
take it on his own cart, as he was driving to Dorfli. After some
little interchange of words it was finally agreed that the man
should take both the child and the box to Dorfli, and there find
some one who could be sent on with Heidi up the mountain.
"I can go by myself, I know the way well from Dorfli," put in
Heidi, who had been listening attentively to the conversation.
Sebastian was greatly relieved at not having to do any mountain
climbing. He drew Heidi aside and gave her a thick rolled parcel,
and a letter for her grandfather; the parcel, he told her, was a
present from Herr Sesemann, and she must put it at the bottom of
her basket under the rolls and be very careful not to lose it, as
Herr Sesemann would be very vexed if she did, and never be the
same to her again; so little miss was to think well of what he
"I shall be sure not to lose it," said Heidi confidently, and she
at once put the roll and the letter at the bottom of her basket.
The trunk meanwhile had been hoisted into the cart, and now
Sebastian lifted Heidi and her basket on to the high seat and
shook hands with her; he then made signs to her to keep her eye
on the basket, for the driver was standing near and Sebastian
thought it better to be careful, especially as he knew that he
ought himself to have seen the child safely to her journey's end.
The driver now swung himself up beside Heidi, and the cart rolled
away in the direction of the mountains, while Sebastian, glad of
having no tiring and dangerous journey on foot before him, sat
down in the station and awaited the return train.
The driver of the car was the miller at Dorfli and was taking
home his sacks of flour. He had never seen Heidi, but like
everybody in Dorfli knew all about her. He had known her parents,
and felt sure at once that this was the child of whom he had
heard so much. He began to wonder why she had come back, and as
they drove along he entered into conversation with her. "You are
the child who lived with your grandfather, Alm-Uncle, are you
"Didn't they treat you well down there that you have come back so
"Yes, it was not that; everything in Frankfurt is as nice as it
"Then why are you running home again?"
"Only because Herr Sesemann gave me leave, or else I should not
"If they were willing to let you stay, why did you not remain
where you were better off than at home?"
"Because I would a thousand times rather be with grandfather on
the mountain than anywhere else in the world."
"You will think differently perhaps when you get back there,"
grumbled the miller; and then to himself, "It's strange of her,
for she must know what it's like."
He began whistling and said no more, while Heidi looked around
her and began to tremble with excitement, for she knew every tree
along the way, and there overhead were the high jagged peaks of
the mountain looking down on her like old friends. And Heidi
nodded back to them, and grew every moment more wild with her joy
and longing, feeling as if she must jump down from the cart and
run with all her might till she reached the top. But she sat
quite still and did not move, although inwardly in such
agitation. The clock was striking five as they drove into Dorfli.
A crowd of women and children immediately surrounded the cart,
for the box and the child arriving with the miller had excited
the curiosity of everybody in the neighborhood, inquisitive to
know whence they came and whither they were going and to whom
they belonged. As the miller lifted Heidi down, she said hastily,
"Thank you, grandfather will send for the trunk," and was just
going to run off, when first one and then another of the
bystanders caught hold of her, each one having a different
question to put to her. But Heidi pushed her way through them
with such an expression of distress on her face that they were
forced to let her go. "You see," they said to one another, "how
frightened she is, and no wonder," and then they went on to talk
of Alm-Uncle, how much worse he had grown that last year, never
speaking a word and looking as if he would like to kill everybody
he met, and if the child had anywhere else to go to she certainly
would not run back to the old dragon's den. But here the miller
interrupted them, saying he knew more about it than they did, and
began telling them how a kind gentleman had brought her to
Mayenfeld and seen her off, and had given him his fare without
any bargaining, and extra money for himself; what was more, the
child had assured him that she had had everything she wanted
where she had been, and that it was her own wish to return to her
grandfather. This information caused great surprise and was soon
repeated all over Dorfli, and that evening there was not a house
in the place in which the astounding news was not discussed, of
how Heidi had of her own accord given up a luxurious home to
return to her grandfather.
Heidi climbed up the steep path from Dorfli as quickly as she
could; she was obliged, however, to pause now and again to take
breath, for the basket she carried was rather heavy, and the way
got steeper as she drew nearer the top. One thought alone filled
Heidi's mind, "Would she find the grandmother sitting in her
usual corner by the spinning-wheel, was she still alive?" At last
Heidi caught sight of the grandmother's house in the hollow of
the mountain and her heart began to beat; she ran faster and
faster and her heart beat louder and louder--and now she had
reached the house, but she trembled so she could hardly open the
door--and then she was standing inside, unable in her
breathlessness to utter a sound.
"Ah, my God!" cried a voice from the corner, "that was how Heidi
used to run in; if only I could have her with me once again! Who
"It's I, I, grandmother," cried Heidi as she ran and flung
herself on her knees beside the old woman, and seizing her hands,
clung to her, unable to speak for joy. And the grandmother
herself could not say a word for some time, so unexpected was
this happiness; but at last she put out her hand and stroked
Heidi's curly hair, and said, "Yes, yes, that is her hair, and
her voice; thank God that He has granted my prayer!" And tears of
joy fell from the blind eyes on to Heidi's hand. "Is it really
you, Heidi; have you really come back to me?"
"Yes, grandmother, I am really here," answered Heidi in a
reassuring voice. "Do not cry, for I have really come back and I
am never going away again, and I shall come every day to see you,
and you won't have any more hard bread to eat for some days, for
And Heidi took the rolls from the basket and piled the whole
twelve up on grandmother's lap.
"Ah, child! child! what a blessing you bring with you!" the old
woman exclaimed, as she felt and seemed never to come to the end
of the rolls. "But you yourself are the greatest blessing,
Heidi," and again she touched the child's hair and passed her
hand over her hot cheeks, and said, "Say something, child, that I
may hear your voice."
Then Heidi told her how unhappy she had been, thinking that the
grandmother might die while she was away and would never have her
white rolls, and that then she would never, never see her again.
Peter's mother now came in and stood for a moment overcome with
astonishment. "Why, it's Heidi," she exclaimed, "and yet can it
Heidi stood up, and Brigitta now could not say enough in her
admiration of the child's dress and appearance; she walked round
her, exclaiming all the while, "Grandmother, if you could only
see her, and see what a pretty frock she has on; you would hardly
know her again. And the hat with the feather in it is yours too,
I suppose? Put it on that I may see how you look in it?"
"No, I would rather not," replied Heidi firmly. "You can have it
if you like; I do not want it; I have my own still." And Heidi so
saying undid her red bundle and took out her own old hat, which
had become a little more battered still during the journey. But
this was no trouble to Heidi; she had not forgotten how her
grandfather had called out to Dete that he never wished to see
her and her hat and feathers again, and this was the reason she
had so anxiously preserved her old hat, for she had never ceased
to think about going home to her grandfather. But Brigitta told
her not to be so foolish as to give it away; she would not think
of taking such a beautiful hat; if Heidi did not want to wear it
she might sell it to the schoolmaster's daughter in Dorfli and
get a good deal of money for it. But Heidi stuck to her intention
and hid the hat quietly in a corner behind the grandmother's
chair. Then she took off her pretty dress and put her red shawl
on over her under-petticoat, which left her arms bare; and now
she clasped the old woman's hand. "I must go home to
grandfather," she said, "but to-morrow I shall come again.
"Yes, come again, be sure you come again tomorrow," begged the
grandmother, as she pressed Heidi's hands in hers, unwilling to
let her go.
"Why have you taken off that pretty dress?" asked Brigitta.
"Because I would rather go home to grandfather as I am or else
perhaps he would not know me; you hardly did at first."
Brigitta went with her to the door, and there said in rather a
mysterious voice, "You might have kept on your dress, he would
have known you all right; but you must be careful, for Peter
tells me that Alm-Uncle is always now in a bad temper and never
Heidi bid her good-night and continued her way up the mountain,
her basket on her arm. All around her the steep green slopes
shone bright in the evening sun, and soon the great gleaming
snow-field up above came in sight. Heidi was obliged to keep on
pausing to look behind her, for the higher peaks were behind her
as she climbed. Suddenly a warm red glow fell on the grass at her
feet; she looked back again--she had not remembered how splendid
it was, nor seen anything to compare to it in her dreams--for
there the two high mountain peeks rose into the air like two
great flames, the whole snow-field had turned crimson, and
rosy-colored clouds floated in the sky above. The grass upon the
mountain sides had turned to gold, the rocks were all aglow, and
the whole valley was bathed in golden mist. And as Heidi stood
gazing around her at all this splendor the tears ran down her
cheeks for very delight and happiness, and impulsively she put
her hands together, and lifting her eyes to heaven, thanked God
aloud for having brought her home, thanked Him that everything
was as beautiful as ever, more beautiful even than she had
thought, and that it was all hers again once more." And she was
so overflowing with joy and thankfulness that she could not find
words to thank Him enough. Not until the glory began to fade
could she tear herself away. Then she ran on so quickly that in a
very little while she caught sight of the tops of the fir trees
above the hut roof, then the roof itself, and at last the whole
hut, and there was grandfather sitting as in old days smoking his
pipe, and she could see the fir trees waving in the wind. Quicker
and quicker went her little feet, and before Alm-Uncle had time
to see who was coming, Heidi had rushed up to him, thrown down
her basket and flung her arms round his neck, unable in the
excitement of seeing him again to say more than "Grandfather!
grandfather! grandfather!" over and over again.
And the old man himself said nothing. For the first time for many
years his eyes were wet, and he had to pass his hand across them.
Then he unloosed Heidi's arms, put her on his knee, and after
looking at her for a moment, "So you have come back to me,
Heidi," he said, "how is that? You don't look much of a grand
lady. Did they send you away?"
"Oh, no, grandfather," said Heidi eagerly, "you must not think
that; they were all so kind--Clara, and grandmamma, and Herr
Sesemann. But you see, grandfather, I did not know how to bear
myself till I got home again to you. I used to think I should
die, for I felt as if I could not breathe; but I never said
anything because it would have been ungrateful. And then suddenly
one morning quite early Herr Sesemann said to me--but I think it
was partly the doctor's doing--but perhaps it's all in the
letter--" and Heidi jumped down and fetched the roll and the
letter and handed them both to her grandfather.
"That belongs to you," said the latter, laying the roll down on
the bench beside him. Then he opened the letter, read it through
and without a word put it in his pocket.
"Do you think you can still drink milk with me, Heidi?" he asked,
taking the child by the hand to go into the hut. "But bring your
money with you; you can buy a bed and bedclothes and dresses for
a couple of years with it."
"I am sure I do not want it," replied Heidi. "I have got a bed
already, and Clara has put such a lot of clothes in my box that I
shall never want any more."
"Take it and put it in the cupboard; you will want it some day I
have no doubt."
Heidi obeyed and skipped happily after her grandfather into the
house; she ran into all the corners, delighted to see everything
again, and then went up the ladder--but there she came to a pause
and called down in a tone of surprise and distress, "Oh,
grandfather, my bed's gone."
"We can soon make it up again," he answered her from below. "I
did not know that you were coming back; come along now and have
Heidi came down, sat herself on her high stool in the old place,
and then taking up her bowl drank her milk eagerly, as if she had
never come across anything so delicious, and as she put down her
bowl, she exclaimed, "Our milk tastes nicer than anything else in
the world, grandfather."
A shrill whistle was heard outside. Heidi darted out like a flash
of lightning. There were the goats leaping and springing among
the rocks, with Peter in their midst. When he caught sight of
Heidi he stood still with astonishment and gazed speechlessly at
her. Heidi called out, "Good-evening, Peter," and then ran in
among the goats. "Little Swan! Little Bear! do you know me
again?" And the animals evidently recognized her voice at once,
for they began rubbing their heads against her and bleating
loudly as if for joy, and as she called the other goats by name
one after the other, they all came scampering towards her
helter-skelter and crowding round her. The impatient Greenfinch
sprang into the air and over two of her companions in order to
get nearer, and even the shy little Snowflake butted the Great
Turk out of her way in quite a determined manner, which left him
standing taken aback by her boldness, and lifting his beard in
the air as much as to say, You see who I am.
Heidi was out of her mind with delight at being among all her old
friends again; she flung her arms round the pretty little
Snowflake, stroked the obstreperous Greenfinch, while she herself
was thrust at from all sides by the affectionate and confiding
goats; and so at last she got near to where Peter was still
standing, not having yet got over his surprise.
"Come down, Peter," cried Heidi, "and say good-evening to me."
"So you are back again?" he found words to say at last, and now
ran down and took Heidi's hand which she was holding out in
greeting, and immediately put the same question to her which he
had been in the habit of doing in the old days when they returned
home in the evening, "Will you come out with me again to-morrow?"
"Not to-morrow, but the day after perhaps, for to-morrow I must
go down to grandmother."
"I am glad you are back," said Peter, while his whole face beamed
with pleasure, and then he prepared to go on with his goats; but
he never had had so much trouble with them before, for when at
last, by coaxing and threats, he had got them all together, and
Heidi had gone off with an arm over either head of her
grandfather's two, the whole flock suddenly turned and ran after
her. Heidi had to go inside the stall with her two and shut the
door, or Peter would never have got home that night. When Heidi
went indoors after this she found her bed already made up for
her; the hay had been piled high for it and smelt deliciously,
for it had only just been got in, and the grandfather had
carefully spread and tucked in the clean sheets. It was with a
happy heart that Heidi lay down in it that night, and her sleep
was sounder than it had been for a whole year past. The
grandfather got up at least ten times during the night and
mounted the ladder to see if Heidi was all right and showing no
signs of restlessness, and to feel that the hay he had stuffed
into the round window was keeping the moon from shining too
brightly upon her. But Heidi did not stir; she had no need now to
wander about, for the great burning longing of her heart was
satisfied; she had seen the high mountains and rocks alight in
the evening glow, she had heard the wind in the fir trees, she
was at home again on the mountain.