“That’s interesting. I presume this is a philosophy book, then. When I
was flying over Sweden with Nils Holgers-son, we touched down on Marbacka
in Varmland, where Nils met an old woman who was planning to write a book
about Sweden for schoolchildren. It was to be both instructive and true, she
said. When she heard about Nils’s adventures, she decided to write a book
about all the things he had seen on gooseback.”
“That was very strange.”
“To tell you the truth it was rather ironic, because we were already in that
book.”
Suddenly Sophie felt something slap her cheek and the next minute she
had become no bigger than a thumb. The tree was like a whole forest and the
goose was as big as a horse.
“Come on, then,” said the goose.
Sophie walked along the branch and climbed up on the goose’s back. Its
feathers were soft, but now that she was so small, they pricked her more than
they tickled.
As soon as she had settled comfortably the goose took off. They flew
high above the treetops. Sophie looked down at the lake and the major’s
cabin. Inside sat Al-berto, laying his devious plans.
“A short sightseeing tour will have to be sufficient today,” said the goose,
flapping its wings again and again.
With that, it flew in to land at the foot of the tree which Sophie had so
recently begun to climb. As the goose touched down Sophie tumbled onto the
ground. After rolling around in the heather a few times, she sat up. She
realized with amazement that she was her full size again.
The goose waddled around her a few times.
“Thanks a lot for your help,” said Sophie.
“It was a mere bagatelle. Did you say this was a philosophy book?”
“No, that’s what you said.”
“Oh well, it’s all the same. If it had been up to me, I would have liked to
fly you through the whole history of philosophy just as I flew Nils Holgersson
through Sweden. We could have circled over Miletus and Athens, Jerusalem
and Alexandria, Rome and Florence, London and Paris, Jena and Heidelberg,
Berlin and Copenhagen . . .”
“Thanks, that’s enough.”
“But flying across the centuries would have been a hefty job even for a
very ironic goose. Crossing the Swedish provinces is far easier.”
So saying, the goose ran a few steps and flapped itself into the air.
Sophie was exhausted, but when she crawled out of the den into the
garden a little later she thought Alberto would have been well pleased with her
diversionary maneuvers. The major could not have thought much about
Alberto during the past hour. If he did, he had to have a severe case of split
personality.
Sophie had just walked in the front door when her mother came home
from work. That saved her having to describe her rescue from a tall tree by a
tame goose.
After dinner they began to get everything ready for the garden party.
They brought a four-meter-long table top and trestles from the attic and
carried it into the garden.
They had planned to set out the long table under the fruit trees. The last