ELSI, THE STRANGE MAID
The highest and most beautiful things in life are not to be heard about, nor read about, nor seen but, if one will, are to be lived.
Søren Kierkegaard
SWITZERLAND IS RICHLY BLESSED IN HAVING the most beautiful valleys. Although not one of the finest, but one of its most prosperous, is the valley in which Heimiswyl lies and which ends on the right bank of the river Emme above Burgdorf. The mountains which surround it are not grand, the shapes are not visually remarkable; they are massive Emmental hills, bright-green at the bottom and dark green above, bordered below with meadows and fields, covered above with tall pines. Visibility in the valley is not far because it is a cross valley which borders the main valley in the northwest direction; that is why you see the Alps on both Eggen elevations, which embrace the valley, but then in bright splendour and like a powerful bow in the southern sky. The water, which bursts out of the rock everywhere, is glorious. The richly watered meadows are unique and the soil excellent for all sorts of cultivation; the valley is rich and famous for its fine and dainty Emmental houses.
In 1796 Elsi Schindler (this was not her real name) lived on one of the fine farms; she was a strange girl, and nobody knew who she was or where she came from. One late evening in springtime, she had knocked on the door, and when the farmer looked out of the window, he saw a tall girl standing outside with a bundle under her arm. She asked to stay the night, in an ancient custom, by which a wanderer without money or who prefers to avoid the inn asks for shelter in farmhouses and gets not only a free lodging, sometimes in a warm stable, sometimes in a warm bed, but also an evening meal and breakfast, and also occasionally money for his further journey. There are houses in the Bern area with daily practice of hospitality of incomparable quality and which are seldom without people staying the night. The farmer asked the girl to come in, and as they were just about to eat, he invited her to sit at the table. The weavers had to sit on the front bench and the farmer’s wife made the girl sit nearby.
They continued eating, but for some moments there was not much conversation, all heads were turned to the girl. For not only was she tall but also strongly built and beautiful of face. She was bronzed but well formed, with a long face, small mouth with white teeth; her eyes were big and serious, and a strange manner which was especially striking in an overnight guest drew their continuing gaze. There was a certain undeniable and unaffected nobility to
