Grandfathers -- Fiction; Mountain life -- Switzerland -- Fiction; Orphans -- Fiction; Switzerland -- History -- 19th century -- Fiction
The kind doctor who had given the order that Heidi was to be
sent home was walking along one of the broad streets towards Herr
Sesemann's house. It was a sunny September morning, so full of
light and sweetness that it seemed as if everybody must rejoice.
But the doctor walked with his eyes fastened to the ground and
did not once lift them to the blue sky above him. There was an
expression of sadness on his face, formerly so cheerful, and his
hair had grown greyer since the spring. The doctor had had an
only daughter, who, after his wife's death, had been his sole
and constant companion, but only a few months previously death
had deprived him of his dear child, and he had never been the
same bright and cheery man since.
Sebastian opened the door to him, greeting him with every mark
of respectful civility, for the doctor was not only the most
cherished friend of the master and his daughter, but had by his
kindness won the hearts of the whole household.
"Everything as usual, Sebastian?" asked the doctor in his
pleasant voice as he preceded Sebastian up the stairs.
"I am glad you have come, doctor," exclaimed Herr Sesemann as
the latter entered. "We must really have another talk over this
Swiss journey; do you still adhere to your decision, even though
Clara is decidedly improving in health?"
"My dear Sesemann, I never knew such a man as you!" said the
doctor as he sat down beside his friend. "I really wish your
mother was here; everything would be clear and straightforward
then and she would soon put things in right train. You sent for
me three times yesterday only to ask me the same question,
though you know what I think."
"Yes, I know, it's enough to make you out of patience with me;
but you must understand, dear friend"--and Herr Sesemann laid
his hand imploringly on the doctor's shoulder--"that I feel I
have not the courage to refuse the child what I have been
promising her all along, and for months now she has been living
on the thought of it day and night. She bore this last bad attack
so patiently because she was buoyed up with the hope that she
should soon start on her Swiss journey, and see her friend Heidi
again; and now must I tell the poor child, who has to give up so
many pleasures, that this visit she has so long looked forward to
must also be cancelled? I really have not the courage to do it."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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