Grandfathers -- Fiction; Mountain life -- Switzerland -- Fiction; Orphans -- Fiction; Switzerland -- History -- 19th century -- Fiction
"From my own goat, the piebald one. But go on now with your
dinner," said Peter, again reminding her it was time to eat.
Heidi now took up the bowl and drank her milk, and as soon as
she had put it down empty Peter rose and filled it again for her.
Then she broke off a piece of her bread and held out the
remainder, which was still larger than Peter's own piece,
together with the whole big slice of cheese to her companion,
saying, "You can have that, I have plenty."
Peter looked at Heidi, unable to speak for astonishment, for
never in all his life could he have said and done like that with
anything he had. He hesitated a moment, for he could not believe
that Heidi was in earnest; but the latter kept on holding out
the bread and cheese, and as Peter still did not take it, she
laid it down on his knees. He saw then that she really meant it;
he seized the food, nodded his thanks and acceptance of her
present, and then made a more splendid meal than he had known
ever since he was a goat-herd. Heidi the while still continued to
watch the goats. "Tell me all their names," she said.
Peter knew these by heart, for having very little else to carry
in his head he had no difficulty in remembering them. So he
began, telling Heidi the name of each goat in turn as he pointed
it out to her. Heidi listened with great attention, and it was
not long before she could herself distinguish the goats from one
another and could call each by name, for every goat had its own
peculiarities which could not easily be mistaken; only one had
to watch them closely, and this Heidi did. There was the great
Turk with his big horns, who was always wanting to butt the
others, so that most of them ran away when they saw him coming
and would have nothing to do with their rough companion. Only
Greenfinch, the slender nimble little goat, was brave enough to
face him, and would make a rush at him, three or four times in
succession, with such agility and dexterity, that the great Turk
often stood still quite astounded not venturing to attack her
again, for Greenfinch was fronting him, prepared for more warlike
action, and her horns were sharp. Then there was little White
Snowflake, who bleated in such a plaintive and beseeching manner
that Heidi already had several times run to it and taken its head
in her hands to comfort it. Just at this moment the pleading
young cry was heard again, and Heidi jumped up running and,
putting her arms round the little creature's neck, asked in a
sympathetic voice, "What is it, little Snowflake? Why do you call
like that as if in trouble?" The goat pressed closer to Heidi in
a confiding way and left off bleating. Peter called out from
where he was sitting--for he had not yet got to the end of his
bread and cheese, "She cries like that because the old goat is
not with her; she was sold at Mayenfeld the day before yesterday,
and so will not come up the mountain any more."
"Who is the old goat?" called Heidi back.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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