Cornelli

Spring had come again on the banks of the Iller-Stream, and the young beech trees were swaying to and fro. One moment their glossy foliage was sparkling in the sunshine, and the next a deep shadow was cast over the leaves. A strong south wind was blowing, driving huge clouds across the sun.

A little girl with glowing cheeks and blowing hair came running through the wood. Her eyes sparkled with delight, while she was being driven along by the wind, or had to fight her way against it. From her arm was dangling a hat, which, as she raced along, seemed anxious to free itself from the fluttering ribbons in order to fly away. The child now slackened her pace and began to sing:

The snow’s on the meadow, The snow’s all around, The snow lies in heaps All over the ground. Hurrah, oh hurrah! All over the ground.

Oh cuckoo from the woods, Oh flowers so bright, Oh kindliest sun, Come and bring us delight! Hurrah, oh hurrah! Come and bring us delight!

When the swallow comes back And the finches all sing, I sing and I dance For joy of the Spring. Hurrah, oh hurrah! For joy of the Spring.

The woods rang with her full, young voice, and her song also roused the birds, for they, too, now carolled loudly, ready to outdo each other. Laughingly the child sang once more with all her might:

But before you go up come in here. I have to tell you something very important.”

Cornelli followed her cousin into the room. Miss Grideelen was standing near the window as if she had expected the return of her friend. Leading Cornelli to the sofa, Miss Dorner pointed to it, saying: “You are sure to know who has done this and you had better tell me right away.”

On the dark plush coverings were visible distinct marks of dusty shoe soles. There was no trace of a whole foot, but one could see that somebody had trampled on the sofa.

“I did not do it,” said Cornelli with sparkling eyes.

“Who in all the house would have done it except you? Please ask yourself that, Cornelli! There is no question about it at all,” said Miss Dorner. “It is probably one of your little jokes similar to throwing your dresses out of the window. I know all about it. Just let me tell you this! It is the last time that you, a girl of ten years old, will show such a terrible lack of manners. As long as I am here, you shall not do it any more. You really should spare your good, sensitive father such behavior.”

“I have not done it. No, I did not do it, no, no!” Cornelli cried aloud.

“But Cornelli, only reflect! You are blushing and your conscience is giving you away,” Miss Grideelen here remarked. “It would be so much better for you to say humbly: ‘I have done it and I am sorry; I shall never do it again!’ ”

“Look, here on both sides of my forehead,” said Cornelli now, hesitating a little and pushing the fringes of hair out of her face, “I have two large bumps, they grow all the time and especially when I frown. I have to make a cross face all the time, for I cannot be jolly any more and can never laugh again. So the bumps keep on growing and in the end they will be just like regular horns. Then everyone will hate me, for nobody else has horns. I can do nothing now but hide them, but in the end they will come through and then my hair won’t hide them any more. Then everybody can see it and people will despise me and children will be sure to throw stones after me. Oh!”

Cornelli again put her head on her arms and groaned in her great trouble. Dino had listened, full of astonishment. He had never before heard anything like that.

“But, Cornelli,” he said, “why do you frown all the time, if the bumps grow when you do it? It would be so much better if you would think of funny things and would try to laugh. If you always made a pleasant face they would perhaps go away entirely.”

Next morning, when Cornelli had just gotten up, Mrs. Halm entered her room. “Cornelli,” she said, taking the child’s hand, “you have made us all so happy! You have done much for Dino by helping him to pass many pleasant hours, and you have entertained my little restless Mux so wonderfully that he can hardly live without you any more. I should like to do something for you now; I should love to make you look festive today and get rid forever of everything that disfigures you.”

The mother had already begun to smooth out the child’s thick hair.

“Oh no, oh no, please don’t do it!” Cornelli cried out, “then everything will be lost. I want to go home, oh, I must go home! Oh, they will all laugh at me and they won’t like me any more. Oh, you don’t know how it is.”

“I know everything, dear child,” the mother said quietly. “Dino has told me everything. Don’t you know, child, that I love you? You know, Cornelli, that I would not do anything that might hurt you the least bit, or that would not help you. I want to free you from an error, Cornelli.”

“No, no, it is not an error, surely not,” Cornelli called out in her great anxiety. “My cousin said it and Miss Grideelen said it, too. They saw it, and I know it. Oh, please don’t brush my hair away.”

“Cornelli,” the mother went on calmly, “the ladies told you they saw little horns on your forehead, that got bigger every time you wrinkled up your brow. You are afraid that this is really so and that it is getting worse.