《小妇人——LITTLE WOMEN》中英文对照 完结_派派后花园

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一二三四五六七~~~

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Chapter Nineteen Amy’S Will

While these things were happening at home, Amy was having hard times at Aunt March's. She felt her exile deeply, and for the first time in her life, realized how much she was beloved and petted at home. Aunt March never petted any one. She did not approve of it, but she meant to be kind, for the well- behaved little girl pleased her very much, and Aunt March had a soft place in her old heart for her nephew's children, though she didn't think it proper to confess it. She really did her best to make Amy happy, but, dear me, what mistakes she made. Some old people keep young at heart in spite of wrinkles and gray hairs, can sympathize with children's little cares and joys, make them feel at home, and can hide wise lessons under pleasant plays, giving and receiving friendship in the sweetest way. But Aunt March had not this gift, and she worried Amy very much with her rules and orders, her prim ways, and long, prosy talks. Finding the child more docile and amiable than her sister, the old lady felt it her duty to try and counteract, as far as possible, the bad effects of home freedom and indulgence. So she took Amy by the hand, and taught her as she herself had been taught sixty years ago, a process which carried dismay to Amy's soul, and made her feel like a fly in the web of a very strict spider.
She had to wash the cups every morning, and polish up the old-fashioned spoons, the fat silver teapot, and the glasses till they shone. Then she must dust the room, and what a trying job that was. Not a speck escaped Aunt March's eye, and all the furniture had claw legs and much carving, which was never dusted to suit. Then Polly had to be fed, the lap dog combed, and a dozen trips upstairs and down to get things or deliver orders, for the old lady was very lame and seldom left her big chair. After these tiresome labors, she must do her lessons, which was a daily trial of every virtue she possessed. Then she was allowed one hour for exercise or play, and didn't she enjoy it?
Laurie came every day, and wheedled Aunt March till Amy was allowed to go out with him, when they walked and rode and had capital times. After dinner, she had to read aloud, and sit still while the old lady slept, which she usually did for an hour, as she dropped off over the first page. Then patchwork or towels appeared, and Amy sewed with outward meekness and inward rebellion till dusk, when she was allowed to amuse herself as she liked till teatime. The evenings were the worst of all, for Aunt March fell to telling long stories about her youth, which were so unutterably dull that Amy was always ready to go to be, intending to cry over her hard fate, but usually going to sleep before she had squeezed out more than a tear or two.
If it had not been for Laurie, and old Esther, the maid, she felt that she never could have got through that dreadful time. The parrot alone was enough to drive her distracted, for he soon felt that she did not admire him, and revenged himself by being as mischievous as possible. He pulled her hair whenever she came near him, upset his bread and milk to plague her when she had newly cleaned his cage, made Mop bark by pecking at him while Madam dozed, called her names before company, and behaved in all respects like an reprehensible old bird. Then she could not endure the dog, a fat, cross beast who snarled and yelped at her when she made his toilet, and who lay on his back with all his legs in the air and a most idiotic expression of countenance when he wanted something to eat, which was about a dozen times a day. The cook was bad-tempered, the old coachman was deaf, and Esther the only one who ever took any notice of the young lady.
Esther was a Frenchwoman, who had lived with`Madame', as she called her mistress, for many years, and who rather tyrannized over the old lady, who could not get along without her. Her real name was Estelle, but Aunt March ordered her to change it, and she obeyed, on condition that she was never asked to change her religion. She took a fancy to Mademoiselle, and amused her very much with odd stories of her life in France, when Amy sat with her while she got up Madam's laces. She also allowed her to roam about the great house, and examine the curious and pretty things stored away in the big wardrobes and the ancient chests, for Aunt March hoarded like a magpie. Amy's chief delight was an Indian cabinet, full of queer drawers, little pigeonholes, and secret places, in which were kept all sorts of ornaments, some precious, some merely curious, all more or less antique. To examine and arrange these things gave Amy great satisfaction, especially the jewel cases, in which on velvet cushions reposed the ornaments which had adorned a belle forty years ago. There was the garnet set which Aunt March wore when she came out, the pearls her father gave her on her wedding day, her lover's diamonds, the jet mourning rings and pins, the queer lockets, with portraits of dead friends and weeping willows made of hair inside, the baby bracelets her one little daughter had worn, Uncle March's big watch, with the red seal so many childish hands had played with, and in a box all by itself lay Aunt March's wedding ring, too small now for her fat finger, but put carefully away like the most precious jewel of them all.
"Which would Mademoiselle choose if she had her will?" asked Esther, wo always sat near to watch over and lock up the valuables.
"I like the diamonds best, but there is no necklace among them, and I'm fond of necklaces, they are so becoming. I should choose this if I might," replied Amy, looking with great admiration at a string of gold and ebony beads from which hung a heavy cross of the same.
"I, too, covet that, but not as a necklace. Ah, no! To me it is a rosary, and as such I should use it like a good catholic," said Esther, eyeing the handsome thing wistfully.
"Is it meant to use as you use the string of good-smelling wooden beads hanging over your glass?" asked Amy.
"Truly, yes, to pray with. It would be pleasing to the saints if one used so fine a rosary as this, instead of wearing it as a vain bijou."
"You seem to take a great deal of comfort in your prayers, Esther, and always come down looking quiet and satisfied. I wish I could."
"If Mademoiselle was a Catholic, she would find true comfort, but as that is not to be, it would be well if you went apart each day to meditate and pray, as did the good mistress whom I served before Madame. She had a little chapel, and in it found solacement for much trouble."
"Would it be right for me to do so too?" asked Amy, who in her loneliness felt the need of help of some sort, and found that she was apt to forget her little book, now that Beth was not there to remind her of it.
"It would be excellent and charming, and I shall gladly arrange the little dressing room for you if you like it. Say nothing to Madame, but when she sleeps go you and sit alone a while to think good thoughts, and pray the dear God preserve your sister."
Esther was truly pious, and quite sincere in her advice, for she had an affectionate heart, and felt much for the sisters in their anxiety. Amy liked the idea, and gave her leave to arrange the light closet next her room, hoping it would do her good.
"I wish I knew where all these pretty things would go when Aunt March dies," she said, as she slowly replaced the shining rosary and shut the jewel cases one by one.
"To you and your sisters. I know it, Madame confides in me. I witnessed her will, and it is to be so," whispered Esther smiling.
"How nice! But I wish she'd let us have them now. Procrastination is not agreeable," observed Amy, taking a last look at the diamonds.
"It is too soon yet for the young ladies to wear these things. The first one who is affianced will have the pearls, Madame has said it, and I have a fancy that the little turquoise ring will be given to you when you go, for Madame approves your good behavior and charming manners."
"Do you think so? Oh, I'll be a lamb, if I can only have that lovely ring! It's ever so much prettier than Kitty Bryant's. I do like Aunt March after all." And Amy tried on the blue ring with a delighted face and a firm resolve to earn it.
From that day she was a model of obedience, and the old lady complacently admired the success of her training. Esther fitted up the closet with a little table, placed a footstool before it, and over it a picture taken from one of the shut-up rooms. She thought it was of no great value, but, being appropriate, she borrowed it, well knowing that Madame would never know it, nor care if she did. It was, however, a very valuable copy of one of the famous pictures of the world, and Amy's beauty-loving eyes were never tired of looking up at the sweet face of the Divine Mother, while her tender thoughts of her own were busy at her heart. On the table she laid her little testament and hymnbook, kept a vase always full of the best flowers Laurie brought her, and came every day to `sit alone' thinking good thoughts, and praying the dear God to preserve her sister. Esther had given her a rosary of black beads with a silver cross, but Amy hung it up and did not use it, feeling doubtful as to its fitness for Protestant prayers.
The little girl was very sincere in all this, for being left alone outside the safe home nest, she felt the need of some kind hand to hold by so sorely that she instinctively turned to the strong and tender Friend, whose fatherly love most closely surrounds His little children. She missed her mother's help to understand and rule herself, but having been taught where to look, she did her best to find the way and walk in it confidingly. But Amy was a young pilgrim, and just now her burden seemed very heavy. She tried to forget herself, to keep cheerful, and be satisfied with doing right, though no one saw or praised her for it. In her firsteffort at being very, very good, she decided to make her will, as Aunt March had done, so that if she did fall ill and die, her possessions might be justly and generously divided. It cost her a pang even to think of giving up the little treasures which in her eyes were as precious as the old lady's jewels.
During one of her play hours she wrote out the important document as well as she could, with some help from Esther as to certain legal terms, and when the good-natured Frenchwoman had signed her name, Amy felt relieved and laid it by to show Laurie, whom she wanted as a second witness. As it was a rainy day, she went upstairs to amuse herself in one of the large chambers, and took Polly with her for company. In this room there was a wardrobe full of old-fashioned costumes with which Esther allowed her to play, and it was her favorite amusement to array herself in the faded brocades, and parade up and down before the long mirror, making stately curtsies, and sweeping her train about with a rustle which delighted her ears. So busy was she on this day that she did not hear Laurie's ring nor see his face peeping in at her as she gravely promenaded to and fro, flirting her fan and tossing her head, on which she wore a great pink turban, contrasting oddly with her blue brocade dress and yellow quilted petticoat. She was obliged to walk carefully, for she had on highheeled shoes, and, as Laurie told Jo afterward, it was a comical sight to see her mince along in her gay suit, with Polly sidilng and bridling just behind her, imitating her as well as he could, and occasionally stopping to laugh or exclaim, "Ain't we fine? Get along, you fright! Hold your tongue! Kiss me, dear! Ha! Ha!"
Having with difficulty restrained an explosion of merriment, lest it should offend her majesty, Laurie tapped and was graciously received.
"Sit down and rest while I put these things away, then I want to consult you about a very serious matter," said Amy, when she had shown her splendor and driven Polly into a corner. "That bird is the trial of my life," she continued, removing the pink mountain from her head, while Laurie seated himself astride a chair. "Yesterday, when Aunt was asleep and I was trying to be as still as a mouse, Polly began to squall and flap about in his cage, so I went to let him out, and found a big spider there. I poked it out, and it ran under the bookcase. Polly marched straight after it, stooped down and peeped under the bookcase, saying, in his funny way, with a cock of his eye, `Come out and take a walk, my dear.' I couldn't help laughing, which made Poll swear, and Aunt woke up and scolded us both."
"Did the spider accept the old fellow's invitation?" asked Laurie, yawning.
"Yes, out it came, and away ran Polly, frightened to death, and scrambled up on Aunt's chair, calling out, `Catch her! Catch her! Catch her!' as I chased the spider."
"That's a lie! Oh, lor!" cried the parrot, pecking at Laurie's toes.
"I'd wring your neck if you were mine, you old torment," cried Laurie, shaking his fist at the bird, who put his head on one side and gravely croaked, "Allyluyer! Bless your buttons, dear!"
"Now I'm ready," said Amy, shutting the wardrobe and taking a piece of paper out of her pocket. "I want you to read that, please, and tell me if it is legal and right. I felt I ought to do it, for life is uncertain and I don't want any ill feeling over my tomb."
Laurie bit his lips, and turning a little from the pensive speaker, read the following document, with praiseworthy gravity, considering the spelling:

MY LAST WILL AND TESTIMENT

I, Amy Curtis March, being in my sane mind, go give and bequeethe all my earthly property--viz.to wit:--namely
To my father, my best pictures, sketches, maps, and works of art, including frames. Also my $100, to do what he likes with.
To my mother, all my clothes, except the blue apron with pockets--also my likeness, and my medal, with much love.
To my dear sister Margaret, I give my turkquoise ring (if I get it), also my green box with the doves on it, also my; piece of real lace for her neck, and my sketch of her as a memorial of her 'little girl'.
To Jo I leave my breastpin, the one mended with sealing wax, also my bronze inkstand--she lost the cover--and my most precious plaster rabbit, because I am sorry I burned up her story.
To Beth (if she lives after me) I give my dolls and the little bureau, my fan, my linen collars and my new slippers if she can wear them being thin when she gets well. And I herewith also leave her my regret that I ever made fun of old Joanna.
To my friend and neighbor Theodore Laurence I bequeethe my paper mashay portfolio, my clay model of a horse though he did say it hadn't any neck. Also in return for his great kindness in the hour of affliction any one of my artistic works he likes, Noter Dame is the best.
To our venerable benefactor Mr. Laurence I leave my purple box with a looking glass in the cover which will be nice for his pens and remind him of the departed girl who thanks him for his favors to her family, especially Beth.
I wish my favorite playmate Kitty Bryant to have the blue silk apron and my gold-bead ring with a kiss.
To Hannah I give the bandbox she wanted and all the patchwork I leave hoping she `will remember me, when it you see'.
And now having disposed of my most valuable property I hope all will be satisfied and not blame the dead. I forgive everyone, and trust we may all meet when the trump shall sound. Amen.
To this will and testiment I set my hand and seal on this 20th day of Nov. Anni Domino 1861.

Amy Curtis March

Witnesses:
Estelle Valnor,
Theodore Laurence.

The last name was written in pencil, and Amy explained that he was to rewrite it in ink and seal it up for her properly.
"What put it into your head? Did anyone tell you about Beth's giving away her things?" asked Laurie soberly, as Amy laid a bit of red tape, with sealing wax, a taper, and a standish before him.
She explained and then asked anxiously, "What about Beth?"
"I'm sorry I spoke, but as I did, I'll tell you. She felt so ill one day that she told Jo she wanted to give her piano to Meg, her cats to you, and the poor old doll to Jo, who would love it for her sake. She was sorry she had so little to give, and left locks of hair to the rest of us, and her best love to Grandpa. She never thought of a will."
Laurie was signing and sealing as he spoke, and did not look up till a great tear dropped on the paper. Amy's face was full of trouble, but she only said, "Don't people put sort of postscripts to their wills, sometimes?"
"Yes, `codicils', they call them."
"Put one in mine then, that I wish all my curls cut off, and given round to my friends. I forgot it, but I want it done though it will spoil my looks."
Laurie added it, smiling at Amy's last and greatest sacrifice. Then he amused her for an hour, and was much interested in all her trials. But when he came to go, Amy held him back to whisper with trembling lips, "Is there really any danger about Beth?"
"I'm afraid there is, but we must hope for the best, so don't cry, dear." And Laurie put his arm about her with a brotherly gesture which was very comforting.
When he had gone, she went to her little chapel, and sitting in the twilight, prayed for Beth, with streaming tears and an aching heart, feeling that a million turquoise rings would not console her for the loss of her gentle little sister.

第十九章艾美的遗嘱

　　当家里发生这一连串事情的时候，艾美正在马奇太太家中挨日子。此刻她深深体会到寄人篱下的滋味，第一次认识到自己在家里是如何受到亲人的宠爱。马奇婶婶从不宠爱人，她不赞成这样；当然也是出于好意，因为小姑娘的表现十分讨她的欢心，而老人对侄儿几个孩子心里也未尝不爱，但她认为这种爱不宜表露出来。她的确在竭尽全力要令艾美幸福，但是，老天作证，她的方法却糟糕透顶！一些老人尽管皱纹累累、白发苍苍，心中却仍然充满朝气，能够和孩子们同忧共喜，友好相处，使他们感到无拘无束，并能寓教于乐，以最温柔的方式给予和得到友谊。不幸的是马奇婶婶却没有这个天分，她规矩森严，整日板着一副面孔，说话啰啰嗦嗦，冗长乏味，令艾美吃尽了苦头。发现艾美比她的姐姐更乖巧听话，老太太觉得自己有责任把她从家里带来的娇气和懒气尽量铲除掉。因此她把艾美置于股掌之中，用自己六十年前所接受的教育方法来教导她-其结果只有令艾美越发糊涂，她觉得自己像只落网苍蝇，落到了一个一丝不苟的蜘蛛手上。
　　她每天早上都得洗净茶杯，把旧式汤匙、一个圆肚银茶壶、几面镜子擦拭得锃光发亮。接着便得打扫房间，这个任务非同小可！几乎没有一粒尘埃可以躲得过马奇婶婶的眼睛，而家具全部都是爪型腿脚，并刻有很多永远打扫不干净的浮雕。然后又得喂鹦哥，给叭儿狗梳毛，还得取东西，传达命令，楼上楼下跑上十多个来回，因为老太太腿疾严重，极少离开自己的大座椅。干完这些累人的活儿后，她还得做一件伤透脑筋的事--做功课。之后她可以自由活动一个小时，这是她最心花怒放的时候。劳里每天都过来，甜言蜜语地哄马奇婶婶，直到她答应让艾美跟他一同外出为止。然后他们一齐散步、骑马，尽兴而归。吃过午饭后，她得大声朗读，并坐着一动不动，老太太则在打瞌睡，常常是一页没听完就睡着了，一睡就是一个小时。接着是缝缀各色布匹或缝制手巾，艾美表面不敢言语，心里却在拼命反抗，就这样一直缝到傍晚，才可以随意玩玩，一直玩到吃茶时间。晚上的时光最为难熬，因为马奇婶婶开始大讲她年青时候的故事，这些故事沉闷不堪，艾美每次都盼着上床睡觉，打算为自己的悲惨命运一哭，但每次都是还没有挤出一星半点眼泪便已睡着了。
　　如果不是有劳里和女佣人埃丝特老人，这种日子简直是一天也过不下去。单单是那只鹦鹉就足以令她神经错乱，因为它不久便发觉艾美并不喜欢自己，于是做出种种淘气异常的事来，以泄心头之愤。每当她走到跟前，它便抓她的头发，她刚洗净了鸟笼，它便把面包和牛奶打翻，趁夫人打瞌睡又去啄"莫普"，把它弄得吠叫不止，还在客人面前叫她的名字，总之一举一动都表现得十足一个该死的破鸟。她也忍受不了那只狗--一只肥胖、无礼的畜牲，每逢给它洗澡它就向她狂吼怒叫，当它想吃东西时，它就以背着地躺倒地上，四脚朝天，脸上一副痴呆的表情，而这样求食一天足有十余次之多。厨师脾气粗暴，年老的马车夫是个聋子，唯一理会她的人只有埃丝特。
　　埃丝特是个法国女人，她和"夫人"，她这样称呼自己的女主人，共同生活了多年，对老太太有一定的操纵权，因为老太太没有她便活不下去。她的真名叫做埃丝特尔，但马奇太太命她更改名字，她遵从了，条件是永远不能要求她改变自己的宗教信仰。她喜欢上了艾美小姐，和她一起坐时常常一边烫"夫人"的花边，一边跟她讲自己在法国遇到的奇闻怪事，令艾美大开眼界。她还允许"小姐"在这间大屋子里头四处游荡，仔细欣赏藏在大衣橱和旧式柜子里的奇珍异宝，因为马奇婶婶藏品极多。艾美最中意的是一个印度木柜，内设许多奇形怪状的抽屉、小分类架和暗格，里头装着各种各样的饰物，有些贵重，有些只是怪异而已，都或多或少有了一些年头。欣赏和摆弄这些东西给予艾美一种巨大的满足感，尤其是那些珠宝箱子，天鹅绒垫子上摆着各式四十年前装点美女的首饰。这里头有一套马奇婶婶出席社交场合戴的石榴石饰物、她出阁时父亲送给她的珠宝、情人的钻石、出席葬礼戴的煤玉戒指和发夹，还有一些怪模怪样的金属小盒子，里头镶着已故朋友的照片、头发制成的垂柳、她一个小女儿戴过的婴儿手镯、马奇叔叔的大挂表和被许多小孩把玩过的红印章。马奇婶婶的结婚戒子大模大样地摆在一个盒子里，因为她的手指长胖了，现在已经戴不进去，于是被当作最最宝贵的珠宝小心翼翼地收藏起来。
　　"如果她立遗嘱，小姐想选哪一样呢？"埃丝特问。她总是坐在跟前看守着，并把贵重物品锁起来。
　　"我最爱这些钻石，可惜里头没有项链，而我最喜欢项链，它们漂亮极了，如果可能，我就选这一个，"艾美答道，羡慕不已地望着一串纯金乌木珠链，链子上头沉甸甸地挂着一个用相同材料做成的十字架。
　　"我也瞄着这个呢，但并非想要来做项链；啊，不！在我眼里它是一串念珠，我要虔诚地持着它诵经祈祷，"埃丝特说道，若有所思地端详着漂亮的首饰。
　　"你的意思是把它当作挂在你镜子上头的那串香木珠链一样使用吗？"艾美问。
　　"对，正是这样，用来做祷告。如果我们用这么精美的东西来做念珠，而不是把它当作轻薄的珠宝来佩戴，圣神们一定更高兴。""你似乎能从自己的祷告中寻找到极大安慰，埃丝特，每次祷告后你都显得平静、满足。但愿我也能这样。""如果小姐是个天主教徒，就能找到真正的安慰；既然不是，你也不妨每天独处一室，思考并祈祷，我在夫人之前侍候的那位好女主人便是这样。她有个小教堂，在那里她找到了极大的安慰。""我这样做合适吗？"艾美问。她在孤独寂寞中深感需要一种帮助，由于贝思不在身边提醒自己，她觉得自己都快要把那本小册子给忘掉了。
　　"那将再好不过，如果你喜欢，我很乐意把化妆室收拾好给你用。不用告诉夫人，她睡觉时你可以进去静坐一会，幽思反省，祈求上帝保佑你姐姐。"埃丝特十分虔诚，真情相劝，因为她心地善良，对艾美姐妹们的处境感同身受。艾美觉得这个主意不错，便同意她把自己房间隔壁一个光线明亮的小密室收拾出来，希望这样能对自己有帮助。
　　"不知马奇婶婶死后这些好东西流落何方，"她一面说，一面慢腾腾地把光彩照人的念珠放回原处，把珠宝箱逐一关上。
　　"落到你和你几个姐姐手上。这个我知道，夫人常向我诉说心事。我看过她的遗嘱，不会有错，"埃丝特耳语道，一边微笑。
　　"好极了！不过我希望她现在就能给我们。拖延时间并非什么好事，"艾美一面评论一面向那些钻石望了最后一眼。
　　"年青女士佩戴这些首饰为时尚早。谁第一个订婚就可以得到那套珍珠首饰--夫人这样说过。我想你离开时会得到那只小绿松石戒指，因为夫人认为你举止有礼，规矩听话。""是吗？噢，如果真的能得到那个漂亮戒指，即使做个小羊羔我也是甘心的！它比吉蒂·布莱恩的不知要好看多少倍。
　　不论怎么说，我还是喜欢马奇婶婶的。"艾美兴冲冲地把那只蓝色戒指戴上试试，下定决心要得到它。
　　从这天开始她成了驯服听话的典范，老太太看到自己的训练大见成效，喜得心花怒放。埃丝特在小房间里放上一张小桌子，前面摆一张脚凳，上面挂一幅从一间锁着的屋子里拿来的图画。她认为这画没有什么价值，但因合适，便把它借来，心里以为夫人永远不会知道，即使知道了也不会管。殊不知这是一幅价值连城的世界名画。爱美的艾美仰望着圣母亲切温柔的面孔，心里头千丝万缕，百感交集，眼睛从不觉得一点疲倦。她在桌上放上自己的小圣约书和赞美诗集，摆上一个花瓶，每天换上劳里带来的最美丽的花儿，并来"静坐一会，幽思反省，祈求上帝保佑姐姐"。埃丝特送给她一串带银十字架的黑色念珠，但艾美怀疑它是否适合新教徒做祈祷用，只是把它挂在一边。
　　这小女孩儿做这一切是非常诚挚的。由于离开了安全温暖的家，一个人孤身在外，她强烈地感到需要一双善良的手扶她一把，于是本能地向那位强大而慈悲的"朋友"求助，他父亲般的爱是如此亲近地环抱着他幼小的孩子们。她一度忘记了母亲要独立思考和自我约束的话，但现在有人向她指点了方向，她便努力去寻找道路，并义无反顾地踏上行程。不过艾美是个新香客，此刻她肩上的担子似乎万分沉重。她试图忘掉自己，保持乐观，问心无愧地做人，尽管没有人看到，也没有人为此而赞扬她。为了使自己非常非常地好，她作出的第一个努力是，像马奇婶婶那样立一个遗嘱，这样假使她真的身染沉疴撒手尘寰，她的财产也可以得到公平慷慨的分割。只要一想到跟自己小小的"珍藏"分手，她便心如刀割，因为她把这些小玩意看得跟老太太的珠宝一样珍贵。
　　她花了一小时娱乐时间绞尽脑汁拟出这份重要文件，埃丝特帮助她纠正某些法律用词。当这位好心的法国女人签上自己的大名后，艾美舒了一口气，把它放在一边，准备拿给圣约是指《圣经》中神与人之间立的誓约，小圣约书指艾美的那本小册24子。
　　劳里看，她希望他做自己的第二证人。因这天下雨，她走到楼上一间大房子里找点开心的事做，并带上鹦哥作伴。房子里放着满满一衣橱的旧式戏服，埃丝特允许她穿着这些戏服玩，她于是乐此不疲，穿上褪了色的锦缎衣裳，对着全身镜来回检阅，行仪态万千的屈膝礼，穿着长裙摇曳而行，让它发出悦耳的瑟瑟声。这一天她忙得不亦乐乎，连劳里敲门也没有听到。劳里悄悄探头望进去，恰好见到她手摇扇子，摇头摆脑，煞有介事地踱过来踱过去。她头上缠一条巨大的粉红色头巾，与身上穿着的蓝缎子衣裳和胀鼓鼓的黄裙子相映成趣，由于穿着高跟鞋，走路必须十分谨慎，正如劳里事后向乔所述，她穿着鲜艳夺目的服装忸忸怩怩，鹦哥紧跟后面，时而缩头缩脑，时而昂首挺胸，全力模仿她的一举一动，偶尔又停下来笑一声或高叫："我们不是挺好吗？去你的，丑八怪！闭嘴！亲亲我，宝贝！哈！哈！"其情其景，令人捧腹。
　　劳里好不容易才忍住了即将爆发出来的笑声，以免惹怒公主殿下。他敲敲门，艾美优雅地把他迎进去。
　　"坐下歇一会，待我把这些东西卸掉，我有一件十分严肃的事情要跟你商量，"在展示完自己的光彩并把鹦哥赶到一角后，她这样说。"这只鸟真是我命中的克星，"她接着又说，一面摘下头上粉红色的庞然大物。劳里则跨坐在一张椅子上。
　　"昨天，婶婶睡着了，我正敛息不敢吱一声，鹦哥却在笼子里尖声高叫，乱七乱动；我便过去把它放出来，发现笼子里有一只大蜘蛛，我用火钳把它捅出来，它却溜到书架下面；鹦哥紧追过去，弯低脖子向书架下面瞪直双眼，怪模怪样地说：'出来散个步，宝贝。'我忍不住笑出了声，鹦哥听到叫骂起来，婶婶被吵醒了，把我们两个痛斥一顿。""蜘蛛接受了那老家伙的邀请吗？"劳里打了个呵欠，问。
　　"接受了，它走出来，鹦哥却拔脚就跑，吓得半死，它狠命跳到婶婶椅子上，一面看我追蜘蛛一面大叫：'抓住她！抓住她！抓住她！'""撒谎！呵，上帝！"鹦鹉叫起来，又去啄劳里的脚趾。
　　"如果你是我养的我就拧断你的脖子，你这孽畜！"劳里向鸟儿晃晃头叫道。鹦哥把头一侧躲过，扯着嗓子庄严地嘎嘎大叫："阿利路亚！上帝保佑，宝贝！""好了。"艾美把衣橱门关上，从口袋里掏出一张纸。"我想请你看看这份文件，告诉我它是否合法、妥当。我觉得我应该这样做，因为生命无常，我不想死后引起纷争，令大家不快。"劳里咂咂嘴唇，把眼光从这位悲天悯人的朋友身上移开，微微背转身子，带着颇值嘉许的认真劲头读起了下面这份有错字的文件：我的遗愿和遗属我，艾美·科蒂斯·马奇，在此心智健全之际，把我的全部财产曾（赠）送并遗曾（赠）如下--即，就是--也就是给父亲：我最好的图画、素描、地图及艺术品，包括画框。还有一百美元给他自由支配。
　　给母亲：诚挚送上我的全部衣服，有口袋的蓝围裙除外--以及我的肖像、奖章。
　　给亲爱的姐姐玛格丽特：曾（赠）送我的录（绿）松石戒指（如果我能得到），以及装鸽子用的录（绿）色箱子，以及我的上等花边给她戴，还有我给她画的肖像，以纪念她的"小姑娘"。
　　给乔，我留给她我的胸针，被封蜡补过的那个，以及我的铜墨水台--她弄丢了盖子--还有我最珍爱的塑胶兔子，因为我很后悔烧掉了她的故事。
　　给贝思（如果我先她而去）我送给她我的玩偶和小衣柜、扇子、亚麻布衣领和我的新鞋子，如果她病好后身体瘦弱可以穿下的话。在此我一并为以前取笑过乔安娜而致歉。
　　给我的朋友和邻居西奥多·劳伦斯，我遗曾（赠）我的制型纸文件夹，陶土模型马，虽然他说过这马没有颈。以及他喜欢的我的任何一件艺术品，以报答他在我们痛苦之际对我们的大恩大德，最好是《圣母玛利亚》。
　　给我们尊敬的恩人劳伦斯先生我留给他一面盖子上镶有镜子的紫色盒子，这给他装钢笔用最为漂亮，并可以使他睹物思人，想起那位对他感激涕零的逝去了的姑娘。她感谢他帮助了她一家，尤其是贝思。
　　我希望我最要好的伙伴吉蒂·布莱恩得到那条28妇人蓝绸缎围裙和我的金殊戒子，连同一吻。
　　给罕娜我送她想要的硬纸匣和我留下的全部拼凑布匹，希望她"看到它时就会想起我"。
　　我最有价值的财产现已处理完毕，我希望大家满意，不会责备死者。我原谅所有人，并相信号角响起时我们会再见。阿门。
　　我于今天公元一八六一年十一月二十日在此遗属（嘱）上签字盖章。
　　艾美·科蒂斯·马奇
　　证人：
　　埃丝特尔·梵尔奈
　　西奥多·劳伦斯
　　最后一个名字是用铅笔写上的，艾美解释说他要用墨水笔重写一次。并替她把文件妥善封好。
　　"你怎么会想出这个主意？有人告诉你贝思要分派自己的东西了吗？"劳里严肃地问。此时艾美在他面前放上一段扎文件用的红带，连同封蜡、一支小蜡烛、一个墨水台。
　　她于是解释一番，然后焦急地问："贝思怎么样？""我本不该说的，但既然说了，我便告诉你。一天她觉得自己已病入膏肓，便告诉乔她想把她的钢琴送给梅格，她的猫儿给你，她可怜的旧玩偶给乔，乔会为她而爱惜这个玩偶的，她很遗憾自己没有更多的东西留给大家，便把自己的头发一人一绺分给我们和其他人、把挚爱留给爷爷。她根本没想到什么遗嘱。"劳里一面说一面签字盖章，久久没有抬起头来，直到一颗硕大的泪珠慢慢滑落到纸上。艾美神色大变；但她只是问道："人们有时会在遗嘱上加插附言之类的东西吗？""会的，他们把它叫做'补遗'。""那么我的也加上一条--我希望把我的鬈发通通剪掉，分送给朋友们留念。我刚才忘了，但我想现在补上，虽然这会毁掉我的相貌。"劳里把这条加上去，为艾美作出这最后一个也是最伟大的一个牺牲而微笑起来。之后他又陪她玩了一个小时，并耐心听她倾吐苦水。当他准备告辞时，艾美把他拉住，颤抖着嘴唇悄声问道："贝思是不是真会有什么危险？""恐怕是这样，但我们必须抱最好的希望。别哭，亲爱的。"劳里像哥哥一样伸出手臂护着她，使她感到了莫大的安慰。
　　劳里走后，她来到自己的小教堂，静坐于蒙蒙暮光之中，为贝思祈祷，一面心酸落泪。假如失去了温柔可爱的小姐姐，即使有一千个一万个绿松石戒指，也不能给她带来安慰埃

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一二三四五六七~~~

举报只看该作者 21楼发表于: 2013-10-25 0

Chapter Twenty Confidential

I don't think I have any words in which to tell the meeting of the mother and daughters. Such hours are beautiful to live, but very hard to describe, so I will leave it to the imagination of my readers, merely saying that the house was full of genuine happiness, and that Meg's tender hope was realized, for when Beth woke from that long, healing sleep, the first objects on which her eyes fell were the little rose and Mother's face. Too weak to wonder at anything, she only smiled and nestled close in the loving arms about her, feeling that the hungry longing was satisfied at last. Then she slept again, and the girls waited upon their mother, for she would not unclasp the thin hand which clung to hers even in sleep.
Hannah had `dished up' and astonishing breakfast for the traveler, finding it impossible to vent her excitement in any other way, and Meg and Jo fed their mother like dutiful young storks, while they listened to her whispered account of Father's state, Mr. Brooke's promise to stay and nurse him, the delays which the storm occasioned on the homeward journey, and the unspeakable comfort Laurie's hopeful face had given her when she arrived, worn out with fatigue, anxiety, and cold.

What a strange yet pleasant day that was. So brilliant and gay without, for all the world seemed abroad to welcome the first snow. So quiet and reposeful within, for everyone slept, spent with watching, and a Sabbath stillness reigned through the house, while nodding Hannah mounted guard at the door. With a blissful sense of burdens lifted off, Meg and Jo closed their weary eyes, and lay at rest, like storm-beaten boats safe at anchor in a quiet harbor. Mrs. March would not leave Beth's side, but rested in the big chair, waking often to look at, touch, and brood over her child, like a miser over some recovered treasure. Laurie meanwhile posted off to comfort Amy, and told his story so well that Aunt March actually `sniffed' herself, and never once said "I told you so". Amy came out so strong on this occasion that I think the good thoughts in the little chapel really began to bear fruit. She dried her tears quickly, restrained her impatience to see her mother, and never even thought of the turquoise ring, when the old lady heartily agreed in Laurie's opinion, that she behaved `like a capital little woman'. Even Polly seemed impressed, for he called her a good girl, blessed her buttons, and begged her to "come and take a walk, dear", in his most affable tone. She would very gladly have gone out to enjoy the bright wintry weather, but discovering that Laurie was dropping with sleep in spite of manful efforts to conceal the fact, she persuaded him to rest on the sofa, while she wrote a note to her mother. She was a long time about it, and when she returned, he was stretched out with both arms under his head, sound asleep, while Aunt March had pulled down the curtains and sat doing nothing in an unusual fit of benignity.
After a while, they began to think he was not going to wake up till night, and I'm not sure that he would, had he not been effectually roused by Amy's cry of joy at sight of her mother.
There probably were a good many happy little girls in and about the city that day, but it is my private opinion that Amy was the happiest of all, when she sat in her mother's lap and told her trials, receiving consolation and compensation in the shape of approving smiles and fond caresses. They were alone together in the chapel, to which her mother did not object when its purpose was explained to her.

"On the contrary, I like it very much, dear," looking from the dusty rosary to the well-worn little book, and the lovely picture with its garland of evergreen. "It is an excellent plan to have some place where we can go to be quiet, when things vex or grieve us. There are a good many hard times in this life of ours, but we can always bear them if we ask help in the right way. I think my little girl is learning this."

"Yes, Mother, and when I go home I mean to have a corner in the big closet to put my books and the copy of that picture which I've tried to make. The woman's face is not good, it's too beautiful for me to draw, but the baby is done better, and I love it very much. I like to think He was a little child once, for then I don't seem so far away, and that helps me."
As Amy pointed to the smiling Christ child on his Mother's knee, Mrs. March saw something on the lifted hand that made her smile. She said nothing, but Amy understood the look, and after a minute's pause, she added gravely, "I wanted to speak to you about this, but I forgot it. Aunt gave me the ring today. She called me to her and kissed me, and put it on my finger, and said I was a credit to her, and she'd like to keep me always. She gave that funny guard to keep the turquoise on, as it's too big. I'd like to wear them Mother, can I?"
"They are very pretty, but I think you're rather too young for such ornaments, Amy," said Mrs. March, looking at the plump little hand, with the band of sky-blue stones on the forefinger, and the quaint guard formed of two tiny golden hands clasped together.
"I'll try not to be vain," said Amy. "I don't think I like it only because it's so pretty, but I want to wear it as the girl in the story wore her bracelet, to remind me of something."
"Do you mean Aunt March?" asked her mother, laughing.
"No, to remind me not to be selfish." Amy looked so earnest and sincere about it that her mother stopped laughing, and listened respectfully to the little plan.
"I've thought a great deal lately about my `bundle of naughties', and being selfish is the largest one in it, so I'm going to try hard to cure it, if I can. Beth isn't selfish, and that's the reason everyone loves her and feels so bad at the thoughts of losing her. People wouldn't feel so bat about me if I was sick, and I don't deserve to have them, but I'd like to be loved and missed by a great many friends, so I'm going to try and be like Beth all I can. I'm apt to forget my resolutions, but if I had something always about me to remind me, I guess I should do better. May we try this way?"
"Yes, but I have more faith in the corner of the big closet. Wear your ring, dear, and do your best. I think you will prosper, for the sincere wish to be good is half the battle. Now I must go back to Beth. Keep up your heart, little daughter, and we will soon have you home again."
That evening while Meg was writing to her father to report the traveler's safe arrival, Jo slipped upstairs into Beth's room, and finding her mother in her usual place, stood a minute twisting her fingers in her hair, with a worried gesture and an undecided look.
"What is it, deary?' asked Mrs. March, holding out her hand, with a face which invited confidence.
"I want to tell you something, Mother."
"About Meg?"
"How quickly you guessed! Yes, it's about her, and though it's a little thing, it fidgets me."
"Beth is asleep. Speak low, and tell me all about it. That Moffat hasn't been here, I hope?" asked Mrs. March rather sharply.
"No. I should have shut the door in his face if he had," said Jo, settling herself on the floor at her mother's feet. "Last summer Meg left a pair of gloves over at the Laurences' and only one was returned. We forgot about it, till Teddy told me that Mr. Brooke owned that he liked Meg but didn't dare say so, she was so young and he so poor. Now, isn't it a dreadful state of things?"
"Do you think Meg cares for him?" asked Mrs. March, with an anxious look.
"Mercy me! I don't know anything about love and such nonsense!" cried Jo, with a funny mixture of interest and contempt. "In novels, the girls show it by starting and blushing, faintingaway, growing thin, and acting like fools. Now Meg does not doanything of the sort. She eats and drinks and sleeps like a sensible creature, she looks straight in my face when I talk about that man, and only blushes a little bit when Teddy jokes about lovers. I forbid him to do it, but he doesn't mind me as he ought."
"Then you fancy that Meg is not interested in John?'
"Who?" cried Jo, staring.
"Mr. Brooke. I call him `John' now. We fell into the way of doing so at the hospital, and he likes it."
"Oh, dear! I know you'll take his part. He's been good to Father, and you won't send him away, but let Meg marry him, if she wants to. Mean thing! To go petting Papa and helping you, just to wheedle you into liking him." And Jo pulled her hair again with a wrathful tweak.
"My dear, don't get angry about it, and I will tell you how it happened. John went with me at Mr. Laurence's request, and was so devoted to poor Father that we couldn't help getting fond of him. He was perfectly open and honorable about Meg, for he told us he loved her, but would earn a comfortable home before he asked her to marry him. He only wanted our leave to love her and work for her, and the right to make her love him if he could. He is a truly excellent young man, and we could not refuse to listen to him, but I will not consent to Meg's engaging herself so young."
"Of course not. It would be idiotic! I knew there was mischief brewing. I felt it, and now it's worse than I imagined. I just wish I could marry Meg myself, and keep her safe in the family."
This odd arrangement made Mrs. March smile, but she said gravely, "Jo, I confide in you and don't wish you to say anything to Meg yet. When John comes back, and I see them together, I can judge better of her feelings toward him."
"She'll see those handsome eyes that she talks about, and then it will be all up with her. She's got such a soft heart, it will melt like butter in the sun if anyone looks sentimentlly at her. She read the short reports he sent more than she did your letters, and pinched me when I spoke of it, and likes brown eyes, and doesn't think John an ugly name, and she'll go and fall in love, and there's an end of peace and fun, and cozy times together. I see it all! They'll go lovering around the house, and we shall have to dodge. Meg will be absorbed and no good to me any more. Brooke will scratch up a fortune somehow, carry her off, and make a hole in the family, and I shall break my heart, and everything will be abominably uncomfortable. Oh, dear me! Why weren't we all boys, then there wouldn't be any bother."
Jo leaned her chin on her knees in a disconsolate attitude and shook her fist at the reprehensible John. Mrs. March sighed, and Jo looked up with an air of relief.
"You don't like it, Mother? I'm glad of it. Let's send him about his business, and not tell Meg a word of it, but all be happy together as we always have been."
"I did wrong to sigh, Jo. It is natural and right you should all go to homes of your own in time, but I do want to keep my girls as long as I can, and I am sorry that this happened so soon, for Meg is only seventeen and it will be some years before John can make a home for her. Your father and I have agreed that she shall not bind herself in any way, nor be married, before twenty. If she and John love one another, they can wait, and test the love by doing so. She is conscientious, and I have no fear of her treating him unkindly. My pretty, tender hearted girl! I hope things will go happily with her."
"Hadn't you rather have her marry a rich man?" asked Jo, as her mother's voice faltered a little over the last words.
"Money is a good and useful thing, Jo, and I hope my girls will never feel the need of it too bitterly not be tempted by too much. I should like to know that John was firmly established in some good business, which gave him an income large enough to keep free from debt and make Meg comfortable. I'm not ambitious for a splendid fortune, a fashionable position, or a great name for my girls. If rank and money come with love and virtue, also, I should accept them gratefully, and enjoy your good fortune, but I know, by experience, how much genuine happiness can be had in a plain little house, where the daily bread is earned, and some privations give sweetness to the few pleasures. I am content to see Meg begin humbly, for if I am not mistaken, she will be rich in the possession of a good man's heart, and that is better than a fortune."
"I understand, Mother, and quite agree, but I'm disappointed about Meg, for I'd planned to have her marry Teddy by-and-by and sit in the lap of luxury all her days. Wouldn't it be nice?" asked Jo, looking up with a brighter face.
"He is younger than she, you know," began Mrs. March, but Jo broke in...
"Only a little, he's old for his age, and tall, and can be quite grown-up in his manners if he likes. Then he's rich and generous and good, and loves us all, and I say it's a pity my plan is spoiled."
"I'm afraid Laurie is hardly grown-up enough for Meg, and altogether too much of a weathercock just now for anyone to depend on. Don't make plans, Jo, but let time and their own hearts mate your friends. We can't meddle safely in such matters, and had better not get `romantic rubbish' as you call it, into our heads, lest it spoil our friendship."
"Well, I won't, but I hate to see things going all crisscross and getting snarled up, when a pull her and a snip there would straighten it out. I wish wearing flatirons on our heads would keep us from growing up. But buds will be roses, and kittens cats, more's the pity!"
"What's that about flatirons and cats?" asked Meg, as she crept into the room with the finished letter in her hand.
"Only one of my stupid speeches. I'm going to bed. Come, Peggy," said Jo, unfolding herself like an animated puzzle.
"Quite right, and beautifully written. Please add that I send my love to John," said Mrs. March, as she glanced over the letter and gave it back.
"Do you call him `John'?" asked Meg, smiling, with her innocent eyes looking down into her mother's.
"Yes, he has been like a son to us, and we are very fond of him," replied Mrs. March, returning the look with a keen one.
"I'm glad of that, he is so lonely. Good night, Mother, dear. It is so inexpressibly comfortable to have you here," was Meg's answer.
The kiss her mother gave her was a very tender one, and as she went away, Mrs. March said, with a mixture of satisfaction and regret, "She does not love John yet, but will soon learn to.

第二十章密谈

　　我认为我找不到任何词语来描述她们母女重逢的情形；这种温馨、美好的时光是难以用笔墨来形容的，我只好把它留给我的读者们去想象，只能说屋子里洋溢着真正的快乐，梅格美好的心愿也成为现实；因为贝思睡了长长一觉醒来，她第一眼看到的正是那朵小玫瑰花和母亲慈爱的面孔。因身体仍极度虚弱，她没有气力发出惊叹，只是露出微笑，紧紧依偎在母亲慈爱的臂膀中，那种感觉就像久旱的禾苗终于盼到了甘露。然后她又睡了过去，姐妹俩则熬夜守候在母亲身边，因为母亲不愿放弃女儿沉睡中依然紧紧攥着她的瘦削的手。
　　罕娜一时找不到其他方法来排解自己的兴奋心情，便为远道归来的亲人"装盘上菜"地上了一顿丰盛的早餐；梅格和乔像恪守职责的幼鹳一样喂母亲进餐，一面听她轻声讲述父亲的情况，以及布鲁克先生如何答应留下来照顾父亲，她在回家的路上被暴风雪耽搁了时间，到站的时候，忧心如焚，又冷又累，是劳里充满希望的面孔使她得到了难以言喻的安慰。
　　这一天是多么奇特，多么喜气洋洋！屋外阳光灿烂，到处洋溢着欢声笑语，人们似乎全都走了出来，迎接这场初雪；屋里却无声无息，一片宁静，大家因一夜未眠，此刻全都进入了梦乡，屋子里静得连针尖落地的声音也能听到。罕娜打着瞌睡在门边守护，梅格和乔仿佛卸下了一身重担，也都双双合上疲倦的眼睛躺下来休息，就像两只小船，经过风吹浪打后，终于安全泊进了平静的港湾。马奇太太不愿离开贝思身边，便坐在大椅子上休息，不时醒来看一看、摸一摸自己的孩子，看着贝思发一会儿呆，其神态就像一个重新找回了自己财宝的吝啬鬼。
　　同时劳里匆匆赶去安慰艾美，他讲故事讲得十分成功，马奇婶婶听了竟"从鼻子里头笑了一声"，而且没有再说"我早就告诉过你"。艾美这回显得十分坚强，看来她在小教堂里下的功夫开始开花结果了。她很快就把泪水擦干，按捺住要见母亲的急切心情，当劳里说她表现得"像个卓尔不凡的小妇人"，而老太太也由衷地表示赞同时，她竟没有想到那个绿松石戒指，甚至鹦哥也似乎对她大加赞赏，因为它叫她"好姑娘"，请上帝保佑她，并用极其友好的声调求她"来散个步，亲爱的"。她本来很想出去高高兴兴地在阳光明媚的雪地里玩个痛快，但发现劳里尽管男子气地装着没什么，但他的身子困得直往下倒，便劝他在沙发上躺躺，自己则给母亲写封信。
　　过了好一会她才把信写完，等她再次来到劳里身边时，劳里头枕双臂，直挺挺地睡得十分香甜。马奇婶婶拉下了窗帘，闲坐在一边，脸上露出一种罕有的慈祥宽厚的神情。
　　过了一会，她们开始想他要睡到晚上才能醒来了，如果不是艾美看见母亲发出的欢叫声把他惊醒，我肯定他会一直睡下去的。那天，城里城外可能有许许多多幸福的小姑娘，但依我看艾美要算是最最幸福的一个，她坐在母亲的膝头上诉说自己是怎样熬过这段日子的，母亲则报以赞赏的微笑和百般爱抚。两人一起来到小教堂，艾美解释了它的来龙去脉，母亲听后并不反对。
　　"相反。我很喜欢它呢，亲爱的。"她把眼光从沾满灰尘的念珠移到翻得卷了毛边的小册子和点缀着长青树花环的漂亮图画上。"当我们身处逆境，烦恼悲伤时，能找个地方清静一下是件大好事。人生的道路充满了坎坷，但只要我们正确寻求帮助，就能克服困难。我想我的小女儿正在领悟这个道理呢。""是的，妈妈，回家后我打算在大房间的一角放上我的书和我画的那幅图画的摹本。圣母的面孔画得不好--她太美了，我画不来--但那婴儿还画得不错，我很喜欢它。我喜欢想他也曾经是个小孩，这样我似乎就离'他'更近了，这样一想，心里就好受了。"艾美指指笑着坐在圣母膝上的圣婴，马奇太太看到她举着的手戴着一样东西，不觉微微一笑。她没有说什么，但艾美明白了她的眼神，迟疑了一会后，她郑重其事地说："我原来要把这事告诉你的，但一时忘了。婶婶今天把这个戒指送给我；她叫我走到她跟前。吻了我一下，把它戴在我的手指上，说我替她增了光，她愿意把我永远留在身边。因为绿松石戒指太大，她便把这有趣的护圈给我戴上。我想戴着它们，妈妈，可以吗？""它们很浇亮，不过我认为你年龄尚小，不大适宜戴这种饰物，艾美。"马奇太太看着那只胖嘟嘟的小手，它的食指上戴着一圈天蓝色宝石和一个由两个金色小箍扣在一起组成的古怪护圈。
　　"我会努力做到不贪慕虚荣的，"艾美说，"我并不只是因为这枚戒指漂亮才喜欢它，我戴上它是因为它能时刻提醒我一些东西，就像故事里的那女孩戴的手镯一样。""你是指马奇婶婶吗？"母亲笑着问。
　　"不是，提醒我不要自私。"艾美的神情十分诚恳，母亲不禁止住了笑，严肃地倾听女儿的小计划。
　　"我最近常常反省自己的'一大堆毛病'，发现其中最大的一项是自私；我要尽最大的努力克服这个缺点。贝思就不自私，所以大家都爱她，一想到要失去她就那么伤心。如果我病了，大家就远远不会这么伤心，我也不配让他们这样；不过我很希望能有许许多多的朋友爱我、怀念我，所以我要努力向贝思学习。只是我常常忘了自己的决心，如果有什么东西在身边提醒我，我想就会好一点。我这样做行吗？""当然，不过我倒是对你的小册子和祈祷更有信心。戴着戒指吧，亲爱的，尽力而为。我相信你会有长进的，因为决心向善便是成功的一半。现在我得回去看贝思了。振作精神，小女儿，我们很快就会接你回家的。"那天晚上，梅格正在给父亲写信，告知母亲已平安到家，乔悄悄溜上楼，走进贝思的房间。看到坐在老地方的母亲，她用手指揪着头发，呆站了一会，神色焦虑。
　　"怎么啦，好女儿？"马奇太太问，伸出手来，神情关注，鼓励女儿说出心事。
　　"我想告诉你一件事，妈妈。"
　　"和梅格有关吗？"
　　"你猜得真快！对，和她有关，虽然这只是一件小事，但它令我烦躁不安。""贝思睡着了，小点声把事情全告诉我。莫法特那小子没有来过吧，我希望？"马奇太太单刀直入地问道。
　　"没有，如果他来，我一定让他吃闭门羹，"乔说着在地板上挨着母亲脚边坐下来，"去年夏天梅格在劳伦斯家丢了一双手套，后来只还回来一只。我们已经把这事忘了，但一天特迪告诉我另一只在布鲁克先生手里。他把它收在马甲衣袋里，一次它掉了出来，特迪便打趣他，布鲁克先生承认自己喜欢梅格，但不敢说出来，因为她还这样年轻，而自己又这样穷。您看，这不是糟糕透顶了吗？""你觉得梅格在乎他吗？"马奇太太焦虑地问道。
　　"上帝！我对情呀爱呀这些荒唐事一无所知！"乔叫道，显得既感兴趣又鄙夷，神情十分滑稽，"在小说里，害相思病的姑娘们不是一会吓一惊，一会红了脸，就是昏过去、瘦下去，一举一动都像个傻瓜。但梅格并没有这些举动：她照吃照喝照睡，跟平常没什么两样，我谈起那个男人时，她也正眼望着我，只有当特迪拿那些多情男女开玩笑时，她才红一下脸。
　　我不许他这样做，但他并不怎么听。"
　　"那么你觉得梅格对约翰不感兴趣吗？""谁？"乔双眼圆睁，叫道。
　　"布鲁克先生。我现在称他约翰；我们在医院里开始这样叫他，他也喜欢这样。""噢，天哪！我知道你们会接受他的：他一直待父亲很好，你们不会把他打发走的，而是让梅格嫁给他，如果她愿意的话。不要脸的东西！去讨好爸爸，帮您的忙，就是要哄得你们的欢心。"乔气得七窍生烟，又揪起自己的头发。
　　"亲爱的，别生气，我告诉你是怎么一回事。约翰奉劳伦斯先生之命陪我一起去医院，他对重病缠身的父亲照顾得十分周到，我们怎能不喜欢他呢？他并没有隐瞒对梅格的感情，开诚布公地告诉我们他爱她，但要等赚够成家立室的钱后才向她求婚。他只希望我们允许他爱她并为她效劳，尽一切努力博取她的爱情，如果他有这个本事的话。我们不能拒绝他的诚意，他确实是个人品出众的年轻人，不过我不同意让梅格这么年轻就订婚。""当然不能同意；那其不是愚蠢之极！我早就知道这里头有文章，我有直觉，不过现在它比我想象的更糟。我真想自己来娶梅格，让她安全留在家里。"这一古怪的安排令马奇太太笑了起来，但她严肃地说："乔，我把事情全告诉你，你可别跟梅格说什么。等约翰回来，他们两人在一起时，我就能更好地判断她对他的感情了。""她会被她说的那对漂亮的眼睛迷惑住，那时就一切都完了。她心肠最软，如果有人含情脉脉地看着她，她的心就会像阳光下的牛油一样化掉。她读他寄来的病情报告比读你的信还多，我说她两句她就来拧我，她喜欢棕色的眼睛，而且不认为约翰是个难听的名字，她会掉进爱河，那我们在一起的那种宁静、欢乐、温馨的日子必将一去不返。我全料到了！
　　他们会在屋子附近谈情说爱，我们不得不东躲西避；梅格一定会爱得神魂颠倒，不再对我好了；布鲁克也会筹集到一笔血汗钱，将她娶走，把我们一家拆散；而我就会伤透了心，那时一切都会变得令人讨厌。啊，天啊！我们为什么全都不是男孩子，那样可以免遭多少烦恼！"乔无可奈何地把下巴靠在膝头上，对那位该死的约翰猛挥拳头。马奇太太叹了一口气，乔抬起头来，如释重负地舒了一口气。
　　"你不喜欢这样吧，妈妈？这真叫我高兴。我们把他赶走，半个字也不要告诉梅格，一家人还跟原来一样一起快乐生活。""刚才叹气是我不对，乔，你们日后各自另立新家是自然不过的事情，也很应该如此，但我何尝不想我的女儿们在我身边多留几年；我很遗憾这件事来得这么快，因为梅格只有十七岁，而约翰也要过好几年才有能力成家立室。我和你父亲的意见是，二十岁前她不能订下任何盟誓，也不能结婚。如果她和约翰相爱，他们可以等，这样也可以考验他们的爱情。
　　她并非轻浮浅薄之流。我倒不担心她会待他不好。我美丽、善良的女儿！我希望她姻缘美满。""您难道不希望她嫁个富家子弟吗？"乔问。说到最后，母亲的声音有些颤抖。
　　"金钱是一种很有用处的好东西，乔，我不希望我的女儿穷困潦倒，也不希望她们过于受金钱的诱惑。我希望约翰有份稳定的好职业，其收入足以维持家庭开支，使梅格生活舒适。我并不奢求我的女儿嫁入名门望族，大富大贵。如果地位和金钱是建立在爱情和品行的基础上，我感激地接受，并分享你们的幸福；但根据经验，我知道普通的小户人家虽然每天都要为生活操劳，却可以拥有真正的幸福，他们的生活虽然清贫，却不失甜蜜温馨。看到梅格从低微起步，我也心满意足，如果我没有看错的话，约翰是个好男人，她将因拥有他的心而变得富有，而这比金钱更为宝贵。""我明白，妈妈，也很赞同，但我可以说对梅格十分失望，我一向计划让她日后嫁给特迪，一生享尽荣华富贵。那不好吗？"乔仰头问道。脸色明朗了一点。
　　"他比她年纪小，你知道。"马奇太太刚说了一句，乔便打断她--"只是小一点儿，他老成持重，个子又高，如果他喜欢，他的言谈举止可以十足像个大人。再说他富有、慷慨、人品好，而且爱我们全家。这计划成了泡影，我感到十分惋惜。""我恐怕劳里对梅格来说像个小弟弟，而且谁也不知道他以后会怎样，现在怎么能指望他呢？别多操心，乔，让时间和他们自己的心来成就你的朋友们，干预这种事情很可能弄巧成拙，我们还是不要去'臭浪漫'，正如你所说，免得我们的友谊因此尽毁。""嗯，那自然，但我痛恨看到本来可以弄好的事情变得乱七八糟、纠缠不清。如果可以不长大，就是头上压一把熨斗我也愿意。可恨花蕾终要绽开，小猫咪终要长成大猫--总之令人烦恼！""你们谈什么熨斗啊猫儿的？"梅格手持写好了的信静静走入房间，问道。
　　"我在瞎扯而已。我要去睡觉了；来吧，佩吉。"乔的回答无异于一个猜不透的谜。
　　"写得不错，文笔也优美。请加上一句说我问候约翰。"马奇太太把信扫了一遍后交给梅格。
　　"您叫他'约翰'吗？"梅格微笑着问道，天真无邪的眼睛直视着母亲。
　　"对，他就像我们的儿子一样，我们非常喜欢他呢，"马奇太太答道，也紧紧地盯着女儿。
　　"那我真高兴，他是多么孤独。晚安，妈妈，有您在这里我们便感到无比舒坦，"梅格这样回答。
　　母亲无限爱怜地给了女儿一吻。梅格走后，马奇太太又满意又遗憾地自语："她还没有爱上约翰，但很快就会爱上的。"

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一二三四五六七~~~

举报只看该作者 22楼发表于: 2013-10-25 0

Chapter Twenty-one Laurie Makes Mischief，and JoMakes Peace

Jo's face was a study next day, for the secret rather weighed upon her, and she found it hard not to look mysterious and important. Meg observed it, but did not trouble herself to make inquiries, for she had learned that the best way to manage Jo was by the law of contraries, so she felt sure of being told everything if she did not ask. She was rather surprised, therefore, when the silence remained unbroken, and Jo assumed a patronizing air, which decidedly aggravated Meg, who in turn assumed an air of dignified reserve and devoted herself to her mother. This left Jo to her own devices, for Mrs. March had taken her place as nurse, and bade her rest, exercise, and amuse herself after her long confinement. Amy being gone, Laurie was her only refuge, and much as she enjoyed his society, she rather dreaded him just then, for he was an incorrigible tease, and she feared he would coax the secret from her.
She was quite right, for the mischief-loving lad no sooner suspected a mystery than he set himself to find it out, and led Jo a trying life of it. He wheedled, bribed, ridiculed, threatened, and scolded; affected indifference, that he might surprise the truth from her; declared her knew, then that he didn't care; and at last, by dint of perseverance, he satisfied himself that it concerned Meg and Mr. Brooke. Feeling indignant that he was not taken into his tutor's confidence, he set his wits to work to devise some proper retaliation for the slight.
Meg meanwhile had apparently forgotten the matter and was absorbed in preparations for her father's return, but all of a sudden a change seemed to come over her, and, for a day or two, she was quite unlike herself. She started when spoken to, blushed when looked at, was very quiet, and sat over her sewing, with a timid, troubled look on her face. To her mother's inquiries she answered that she was quite well, and Jo's she silenced by begging to be let alone.
"She feels it in the air--love, I mean--and she's going very fast. She's got most of the symptoms--is twittery and cross, doesn't eat, lies awake, and mopes in corners. I caught her singing that song he gave her, and once she said `John', as you do, and then turned as red as a poppy. whatever shall we do?" said Jo, looking ready for any measures, however violent.
"Nothing but wait. Let her alone, be kind and patient, and Father's coming will settle everything," replied her mother.
"Here's a note to you, Meg, all sealed up. How odd! Teddy never seals mine," said Jo next day, as she distributed the contents of the little post office.
Mrs. March and Jo were deep in their own affairs, when a sound from Meg made them look up to see her staring at her note with a frightened face.
"My child, what is it?" cried her mother, running to her, while Jo tried to take the paper which had done the mischief.
"It's all a mistake, he didn't send it. Oh, Jo, how could you do it?" and Meg hid her face in her hands, crying as if her heart were quite broken.
"Me! I've done nothing! What's she talking about?" cried Jo, bewildered.
Meg's mild eyes kindled with anger as she pulled a crumpled note from her pocket and threw it at Jo, saying reproachfully, "You wrote it, and that bad boy helped you. How could you be so rude, so mean, and cruel to us both?"
Jo hardly heard her, for she and her mother were reading the note, which was written in a peculiar hand.

"My Dearest Margaret,
"I can no longer restrain my passion, and must know my fate before I return. I dare not tell your parents yet, but I think they would consent if they knew that we adored one another. Mr. Laurence will help me to some good place, and then, my sweet girl, you will make me happy. I implore you to say nothing to your family yet, but to send one word of hope through Laurie to,
"Your devoted John."
"Oh, the little villain! That's the way he meant to pay me for keeping my word to Mother. I'll give him a hearty scolding and bring him over to beg pardon," cried Jo, burning to execute immediate justice. But her mother held her back, saying, with a look she seldom wore...
"Stop, Jo, you must clear yourself first. You have played so many pranks that I am afraid you have had a hand in this."
"On my word, Mother, I haven't! I never saw that note before, and don't know anything about it, as true as I live!" said Jo, so earnestly that they believed her. "If I had taken part in it I'd have done it better than this, and have written a sensible note. I should think you'd have known Mr. Brooke wouldn't write such stuff as that," she added, scornfully tossing down the paper.
"It's like his writing," faltered Meg, comparing it with the note in her hand. "Oh, Meg, you didn't answer it?" cried Mrs. March quickly.
"Yes, I did!" and Meg hid her face again, overcome with shame.
"Here's a scrape! Do let me bring that wicked boy over to explain and be lectured. I can't rest till I get hold of him." And Jo made for the door again.
"Hush! Let me handle this, for it is worse than I thought. Margaret, tell me the whole story," commanded Mrs. March, sitting down by Meg, yet keeping hold of Jo, lest she should fly off.
"I received the first letter from Laurie, who didn't look as if he knew anything about it," began Meg, without looking up. "I was worried at first and meant to tell you, then I remembered how you liked Mr. Brooke, so I thought you wouldn't mind if I kept my little secret for a few days. I'm so silly that I liked to think no one knew, and while I was deciding what to say, I felt like the girls in books, who have such things to do. Forgive me, Mother, I'm paid for my silliness now. I never can look him in the face again."
"What did you say to him?' asked Mrs. March.
"I only said I was too young to do anything about it yet, that I didn't wish to have secrets from you, and he must speak to father. I was very grateful for his kindness, and would be his friend, but nothing more, for a long while."
Mrs. March smiled, as if well pleased, and Jo clapped her hands, exclaiming, with a laugh, "You are almost equal to Caroline Percy, who was a pattern of prudence! Tell on, Meg. What did he say to that?"
"He writes in a different way entirely, telling me that he never sent any love letter at all, and is very sorry that my roguish sister, Jo, should take liberties with our names. It's very kind and respectful, but think how dreadful for me!"
Meg leaned against her mother, looking the image of despair, and Jo tramped about the room, calling Laurie names. All of a sudden she stopped, caught up the two notes, and after looking at them closely, said decidedly, "I don't believe Brooke ever saw either of these letters. Teddy wrote both, and keeps yours to crow over me with because I wouldn't tell him my secret."
"Don't have any secrets, Jo. Tell it to Mother and keep out of trouble, as I should have done," said Meg warningly.
"Bless you, child! Mother told me."
"That will do, Jo. I'll comfort Meg while you go and get Laurie. I shall sift the matter to the bottom, and put a stop to such pranks at once." Away ran Jo, and Mrs. March gently told Meg Mr. Brooke's real feelings. "Now, dear, what are your own? Do you love him enough to wait till her can make a home for you, or will you keep yourself quite free for the present?"
"I've been so scared and worried, I don't want to have anything to do with lovers for a long while, perhaps never,"
answered Meg petulantly. "If John doesn't know anything about this nonsense, don't tell him, and make Jo and Laurie hold their tongues. I won't be deceived and plagued and made a fool of. It's a shame!"
Seeing Meg's usually gentle temper was roused and her pride hurt by this mischievous joke, Mrs. March soothed her by promises of entire silence and great discretion for the future. The instant Laurie's step was heard in the hall, Meg fled into the study, and Mrs. March received the culprit alone. Jo had not told him why he was wanted, fearing he wouldn't come, but he knew the minute he saw Mrs. March's face, and stood twirling his hat with a guilty air which convicted him at once. Jo was dismissed, but chose to march up and down the hall like a sentinel, having some fear that the prisoner might bolt. The sound of voices in the parlor rose and fell for half an hour, but what happened during that interview the girls never knew
When they were called in, Laurie was standing by their mother with such a penitent face that Jo forgave him on the spot, but did not think it wise to betray the fact. Meg received his humble apology, and was much comforted by the assurance that Brooke knew nothing of the joke.
"I'll never tell him to my dying day, wild horses shan't drag it out of me, so you'll forgive me, Meg, and I'll do anything to show how out-and-out sorry I am," he added, looking very much ashamed of himself.
"I'll try, but it was a very ungentlemanly thing to do, I didn't think you could be so sly and malicious, Laurie," replied Meg, trying to hid her maidenly confusion under a gravely reproachful air.
"It was altogether abominable, and I don't deserve to be spoken to for a month, but you will, though, won't you?" And Laurie folded his hands together with such and imploring gesture, as he spoke in his irresistibly persuasive tone, that it was impossible to frown upon him in spite of his scandalous behavior.
Meg pardoned him, and Mrs. March's grave face relaxed, in spite of her efforts to keep sober, when she heard him declare that he would atone for his sins by all sorts of penances, and abase himself like a worm before the injured damsel.
Jo stood aloof, meanwhile, trying to harden her heart against him, and succeeding only in primming up her face into an expression of entire disapprobation. Laurie looked at her once or twice, but as she showed no sign of relenting, he felt injured, and turned his back on her till the others were done with him, when he made her a low bow and walked off without a word.
As soon as he had gone, she wished she had been more forgiving, and when Meg and her mother went upstairs, she felt lonely and longed for Teddy. After resisting for some time, she yielded to the impulse, and armed with a book to return, went over to the big house.
"Is Mr. Laurence in?" asked Jo, of a housemaid, who was coming downstairs.
"Yes, Miss, but I don't believe he's seeable just yet."
"Why not? Is he ill?"
"La, no Miss, but he's had a scene with Mr. Laurie, who is in one of his tantrums about something, which vexes the old gentleman, so I dursn't go nigh him."
"Where is Laurie?'
"Shut up in his room, and he won't answer, though I've been a-tapping. I don't know what's to become of the dinner, for it's ready, and there's no one to eat it."
"I'll go and see what the matter is. I'm not afraid of either of them."
Up went Jo, and knocked smartly on the door of Laurie's little study.
"Stop that, or I'll open the door and make you!" called out the young gentleman in a threatening tone.
Jo immediately knocked again. The door flew open, and in she bounced before Laurie could recover from his surprise. Seeing that he really was out of temper, Jo, who knew how to manage him, assumed a contrite expression, and going artistically down upon her knees, said meekly, "Please forgive me for being so cross. I came to make it up, and can't go away till I have."
"It's all right. Get up, and don't be a goose, Jo," was the cavalier reply to her petition.
"Thank you, I will. Could I ask what's the matter? You don't look exactly easy in your mind."
"I've been shaken, and I won't bear it!" growled Laurie indignantly.
"Who did it?" demanded Jo.
"Grandfather. If it had been anyone else I'd have..."
And the injured youth finished his sentence by an energetic gesture of the right arm.
"That's nothing. I often shake you, and you don't mind," said Jo soothingly.
"Pooh! You're a girl, and it's fun, but I'll allow no man to shake me!"
"I don't think anyone would care to try it, if you looked as much like a thundercloud as you do now. Why were you treated so?"
"Just because I wouldn't say what your mother wanted me for. I'd promised not to tell, and of course I wasn't going to break my word."
"Couldn't you satisfy your grandpa in any other way?"
"No, he would have the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. I'd have told my part of the scrape, if I could without bringing Meg in. As I couldn't, I held my tongue, and bore the scolding till the old gentleman collared me. Then I bolted, for fear I should forget myself."
"It wasn't nice, but he's sorry, I know, so go down and make up. I'll help you."
"Hanged if I do! I'm not going to be lectured and pummelled by everyone, just for a bit of a frolic. I was sorry about Meg, and begged pardon like a man, but I won't do it again, when I wasn't in the wrong."
"He didn't know that."
"He ought to trust me, and not act as if I was a baby. It's no use, Jo, he's got to learn that I'm able to take care of myself, and don't need anyone's apron string to hold on by." "What pepper pots you are! " sighed Jo. "How do you mean to settle this affair?"
"Well, he ought to beg pardon, and believe me when I say I can't tell him what the fuss's about."
"Bless you! He won't do that."
"I won't go down till he does."
"Now, Teddy, be sensible. Let it pass, and I'll explain what I can. You can't stay here, so what's the use of being melodramatic?"
"I don't intend to stay here long, anyway. I'll slip off and take a journey somewhere, and when Grandpa misses me he'll come round fast enough."
"I dare say, but you ought not to go and worry him."
"Don't preach. I'll go to Washington and see Brooke. It's gay there, and I'll enjoy myself after the troubles."
"What fun you'd have! I wish I could run off too," said Jo, forgetting her part of mentor in lively visions of martial life at the capital.
"Come on, then! Why not? You go and surprise your father, and I'll stir up old Brooke. It would be a glorious joke. Let's do it, Jo. We'll leave a letter saying we are all right, and trot off at once. I've got money enough. It will do you good, and no harm, as you go to your father."
For a moment Jo looked as if she would agree, for wild as the plan was, it just suited her. She was tired of care and confinement, longed for change, and thoughts of her father blended temptingly with the novel charms of camps and hospitals, liberty and fun. Her eyes kindled as they turned wistfully toward the window, but they fell on the old house opposite, and she shook her head with sorrowful decision.
"If I was a boy, we'd run away together, and have a capital time, but as I'm a miserable girl, I must be proper and stop at home. Don't tempt me, Teddy, it's a crazy plan."
"That's the fun of it," began Laurie, who had got a willful fit on him and was possessed to break out of bounds in some way.
"Hold your tongue!" cried Jo, covering her ears. "`Prunes and prisms' are my doom, and I may as well make up my mind to it. I came here to moralize, not to hear things that make me skip to think of."
"I know Meg would wet-blanket such a proposal, but I thought you had more spirit," began Laurie insinuatingly.
"Bad boy, be quiet! Sit down and think of your own sins, don't go making me add to mine. If I get your grandpa to apologize for the shaking, will you give up running away?" asked Jo seriously.
"Yes, but you won't do it," answered Laurie, who wished to make up, but felt that his outraged dignity must be appeased first.
"If I can manage the young one, I can the old one," muttered Jo, as she walked away, leaving Laurie bent over a railroad map with his head propped up on both hands.
"Come in!" And Mr. Laurence's gruff voice sounded gruffer than ever, as Jo tapped at his door.
"It's only me, Sir, come to return a book," she said blandly, as she entered.
"Want any more?" asked the old gentleman, looking grim and vexed, but trying not to show it.
"Yes, please. I like old Sam so well, I think I'll try the second volume," returned Jo, hoping to propitiate him by accepting a second dose of Boswell's Johnson, as he had recommended that lively work.
The shaggy eyebrows unbent a little as he rolled the steps toward the shelf where the Johnsonian literature was placed. Jo skipped up, and sitting on the top step, affected to be searching for her book, but was really wondering how best to introduce the dangerous object of her visit. Mr. Laurence seemed to suspect that something was brewing in her mind, for after taking several brisk turns about the room, he faced round on her, speaking so abruptly that Rasselas tumbled face downward on the floor.
"What has that boy been about? Don't try to shield him. I know he has been in mischief by the way he acted when he came home. I can't get a word from him, and when I threatened to shake the truth out of him he bolted upstairs and locked himself into his room."
"He did wrong, but we forgave him, and all promised not to say a word to anyone," began Jo reluctantly.
"That won't do. He shall not shelter himself behind a promise from you softhearted girls. If he's done anything amiss, he shall confess, beg pardon, and be punished. Out with it, Jo. I won't be kept in the dark."
Mr. Laurence looked so alarming and spoke so sharply that Jo would have gladly run away, if she could, but she was perched aloft on the steps, and he stood at the foot, a lion in the path, so she had to stay and brave it out.
"Indeed, Sir, I cannot tell. Mother forbade it. Laurie has confessed, asked pardon, and been punished quite enough. We don't keep silence to shield him, but someone else, and it will make more trouble if you interfere. Please don't. It was partly my fault, but it's all right now. So let's forget it, and talk about the RAMBLER or something pleasant."
"Hang the RAMBLER! Come down and give me your word that this harum-scarum boy of mine hasn't done anything ungrateful or impertinent. If he has, after all your kindness to him, I'll thrash him with my own hands."
The threat sounded awful, but did not alarm Jo, for she knew the irascible old gentleman would never lift a finger against his grandson, whatever he might say to the contrary. She obediently descended, and made as light of the prank as she could without betraying Meg or forgetting the truth.
"Hum... ha... well, if the boy held his tongue because he promised, and not from obstinacy, I'll forgive him. He's a stubborn fellow and hard to manage," said Mr. Laurence, rubbing up his hair till it looked as if he had been out in a gale, and smoothing the frown from his brow with an air of relief.
"So am I, but a kind word will govern me when all the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't," said Jo, trying to say a kind word for her friend, who seemed to get out of one scrape only to fall into another.
"You think I'm not kind to him, hey?" was the sharp answer.
"Oh, dear no, Sir. You are rather too kind sometimes, and then just a trifle hasty when he tries your patience. Don't you think you are?"
Jo was determined to have it out now, and tried to look quite placid, though she quaked a little after her bold speech.
To her great relief and surprise, the old gentleman only threw his spectacles onto the table with a rattle and exclaimed frankly, "You're right, girl, I am! I love the boy, but he tries my patience past bearing, and I know how it will end, if we go on so."
"I'll tell you, he'll run away." Jo was sorry for that speech the minute it was made. She meant to warn him that Laurie would not bear much restraint, and hoped he would be more forebearing with the lad.
Mr. Laurence's ruddy face changed suddenly, and he sat down, with a troubled glance at the picture of a handsome man, which hung over his table. It was Laurie's father, who had run away in his youth, and married against the imperious old man's will. Jo fancied her remembered and regretted the past, and she wished she had held her tongue.
"He won't do it unless he is very much worried, and only threatens it sometimes, when he gets tired of studying. I often think I should like to, especially since my hair was cut, so if you ever miss us, you may advertise for two boys and look among the ships bound for India."
She laughed as she spoke, and Mr. Laurence looked relieved, evidently taking the whole as a joke.
"You hussy, how dare you talk in that way? Where's your respect for me, and your proper bringing up? Bless the boys and girls! What torments they are, yet we can't do without them," he said, pinching her cheeks good-humoredly. "Go and bring that boy down to his dinner, tell him it's all right, and advise him not to put on tragedy airs with his grandfather. I won't bear it."
"He won't come, Sir. He feels badly because you didn't believe him when he said he couldn't tell. I think the shaking hurt his feelings very much."
Jo tried to look pathetic but must have failed, for Mr. Laurence began to laugh, and she knew the day was won.
"I'm sorry for that, and ought to thank him for not shaking me, I suppose. What the dickens does the fellow expect?" And the old gentleman looked a trifle ashamed of his own testiness.
"If I were you, I'd write him an apology, Sir. He says he won't come down till he has one, and talks about Washington, and goes on in an absurd way. A formal apology will make him see how foolish he is, and bring him down quite amiable. Try it. He likes fun, and this was is better than talking. I'll carry it up, and teach him his duty."
Mr. Laurence gave her a sharp look, and put on his spectacles, saying slowly, "You're a sly puss, but I don't mind being managed by you and Beth. Here, give me a bit of paper, and let us have done with this nonsense."
The note was written in the terms which one gentleman would use to another after offering some deep insult. Jo dropped a kiss on the top of Mr. Laurence's bald head, and ran up to slip the apology under Laurie's door, advising him through the keyhole to be submissive, decorous, and a few other agreeable impossibilities. Finding the door locked again, she left the note to do its work, and was going quietly away, when the young gentleman slid down the banisters, and waited for her at the bottom, saying, with his most virtuous expression of countenance, "What a good fellow you are, Jo! Did you get blown up?" he added, laughing.
"No, he was pretty mild, on the whole."
"AH! I got it all round. Even you cast me off over there, and I felt just ready to go to the deuce," he began apologetically.
"Don't talk that way, turn over a new leaf and begin again, Teddy, my son."
"I keep turning over new leaves, and spoiling them, as I used to spoil my copybooks, and I make so many beginnings there never will be an end," he said dolefully.
"Go and eat your dinner, you'll feel better after it. Men always croak when they are hungry," and Jo whisked out at the front door after that.
"That's a `label' on my `sect'," answered Laurie, quoting Amy, as he went to partake of humble pie dutifully with his grandfather, who was quite saintly in temper and overwhelmingly respectful in manner all the rest of the day.
Everyone thought the matter ended and the little cloud blown over, but the mischief was done, for though others forgot it, Meg remembered. She never alluded to a certain person, but she thought of him a good deal, dreamed dreams more than ever, and once Jo, rummaging her sister's desk for stamps, found a bit of paper scribbled over with the words, `Mrs. John Brooke', whereat she groaned tragically and cast it into the fire, feeling that Laurie's prank had hastened the evil day for her.

第二十一章劳里恶作剧，乔来讲和

　　第二天乔的脸色令人捉摸不透。那个秘密在她心头挥之不去，她很难装得若无其事。梅格觉察到她神秘兮兮，心事重重，但她不忙追问，她知道让乔就范的最好办法是反其道而行之，她肯定只要她不问，乔一定自己把心事全倒出来。令她颇为诧异的是，乔仍然守口如瓶，而且摆出一副傲慢的神态，这可把梅格气坏了，她转而也装出一副凛然不可犯的神气，寡言少语，一应大小事情只和母亲商量。马奇太太此时已接替了乔的护理工作，并嘱久困在家的女儿好好休息，尽兴玩乐，这么一来，乔倒没有人烦她了。艾美又不在家，劳里便成了唯一可以慰藉她的人；她虽然十分喜欢劳里作伴，此刻却有点怕他，因为他有一种不可救药的劣根--爱戏弄别人，她担心他会用甜言蜜语把秘密从她口里套出来。
　　她果然没有估错，这位爱调皮捣蛋的小伙子发觉乔有点异样，疑心顿起，立即穷追不舍，乔从此开始受苦受难。他诱哄、贿赂、嘲笑、威胁、责备；装漠不关心，以求出其不意地套出真相；宣称他知道，然后又说他不在乎；最后，凭着这般锲而不舍的劲头，他终于满意地相信此事与梅格和布鲁克先生有关。自家私人教师的秘密竟不让他知道，他心中愤愤不平，于是苦苦思索如何好好地出一口怨气。
　　梅格此时显然已忘记了此事，一心一意为父亲的归来作准备，但突然，似乎发生了一种变化，有一两天变得跟从前判若两人。听到有人叫她便猛吃一惊，人家望她一眼她便脸红耳赤，整日不言不语，做针线活时独坐一边，羞答答的，心事重重。母亲过问时她回答自己一切正常，乔问她时她便求她别管。
　　"她在空气中感受到这种东西--我的意思是，爱--而且她变得很快。那些症状她几乎全得了--颤抖、暴躁、不吃、不睡，背着人愁眉锁眼。我还发现她唱他给她的那首歌，一次她竟然像您一样说'约翰'，然后又转过身去，脸红得像朵罂粟花。我们到底该怎么办？"乔说。看样子她准备采取任何措施，无论这些措施是多么猛烈。
　　"只有等待。不要干涉她，要和气耐心，等爸爸回来事情就能解决了，"母亲回答。
　　"这是你的信，梅格，封得严严实实的。真奇怪！特迪从来不封我的信，"第二天乔分派小邮箱里的邮件时这样说。
　　马奇太太和乔正全神贯注地于着自己的事情，突然听到梅格叫了一声，两人抬起头来，只见她盯着那封信，一脸惊恐的神色。
　　"我的儿，出了什么事？"母亲边叫边跑向女儿，乔则伸手去夺那封惹祸的信。
　　"这全是误会--信不是他寄的。噢，乔，你怎能做出这种事情？"梅格双手掩面，痛哭了起来，仿佛心碎了一般。
　　"我！我什么也没做！她在说什么？"乔被弄糊涂了，叫道。
　　梅格温柔的眼睛因愤怒而激动得闪闪发亮，她从衣袋里掏出一张揉皱了的纸条，向乔一把扔去，怒声呵斥："信是你写的，那坏小子帮着你。你们怎能对我这么卑鄙无礼，这么残酷？"乔没有听她说话，她和母亲忙着读这封字迹怪异的信。
　　"亲亲玛格丽特--
　　我再也不能控制自己的感情，务必在我归来前知道自己的命运。我还不敢告诉你父母，但我想如果他们知道我们相爱，他们一定会同意。劳伦斯先生将帮我找到一个好职位，而你，我的宝贝，将令我幸福。我求你先别跟你家里人说什么，只请写上一句知心话交劳里转给衷心爱你的约翰。""噢，这个小坏蛋！我为妈妈保密，他就这样报复我。我去把他痛骂一顿，带他过来求饶，"乔叫道，恨不得立即把真凶缉拿归案。但母亲拦住她，脸上带着一种少见的神情，说道--"站住，乔，你首先得澄清自己。你一向胡闹惯了，我怀疑这事你也有一手。""我发誓，妈妈，我没有！我从来没看过这封信，更不知道这是怎么一回事，我绝无虚言！"乔说话时神情极其认真，母亲和梅格相信了她。"如果我参与了这事，我会干得更漂亮一些，写一封合情合理的信。我想你们也知道布鲁克先生不会写出这种东西，"她接着说，轻蔑地把信往地下一抛。
　　"但这字像是他写的，"梅格结结巴巴地说，把这封信和手中的一封比较。
　　"哎呀，梅格，你没回信吧？"马奇太太急问。
　　"我，我回了！"梅格再次掩着脸，羞愧得无地自容。
　　"那可糟透了！快让我把那可恶的小子带过来教训一顿，让他解释清楚。不把他抓来我决不罢休。"乔又向门口冲去。
　　"冷静！这事让我来处理，它比我原来想象的更糟。玛格丽特，把这事完完整整地告诉我。"马奇太太一面下令一面在梅格身边坐下，一只手却抓着乔不放，以免她溜脱出去。
　　"我从劳里那儿收到第一封信，他看上去似乎对这事一无所知，"梅格低着头说，"我一开始的时候感到惶恐不安，打算告诉您，后来想起你们十分喜欢布鲁克先生，我便想，即使我把这件小小的心事藏上几天，你们也不会怪我的。我真傻，以为这事没有人知道，而当我在考虑怎么回答时，我觉得自己就像书里头那些坠入爱河的女孩子。原谅我，妈妈，我做的傻事现在得到了报应；我再也没脸见他了。""你跟他说了些什么？"马奇太太问。
　　"我只说我年龄尚小，还不适宜谈这种事情，说我不想瞒着你们，他必须跟父亲说。我对他的心意万分感激，愿做他的朋友，但仅此而已，其他以后再说。"马奇太太听完露出了欣慰的笑容，乔双手一拍，笑着叫道："你可真是个卡罗琳·珀西。她是谨言慎行的楷模哩！往下说，梅格。他对此怎么说？""他回了一封风格完全不同的信，告诉我他从来没有写过什么情信，他很遗憾我那淘气捣蛋的妹妹乔竟这样冒用我们的名字。信中言辞委婉，对我十分敬重，但想想我有多尴尬！"梅格靠在母亲身上，哭得成了个泪人儿，乔急得一面叫着劳里的名字，一面在屋子里团团乱转。忽然，她停下来，拿起两张纸条，细细看了一回，断然说道："我看这两封信没有一封是布鲁克写的，都是特迪写的，他把你的信留着，好向我抖抖威风，因为我不把自己的心事告诉他。""不要藏什么心事，乔。告诉妈妈，免招灾祸，我本该那么做的，"梅格警告道。
　　"说得好，梅格！妈妈也这样跟我说过。""行了，乔。我陪着梅格，你去把劳里找来。我要细细查究此事，立即终止这出恶作剧。"
　　乔跑出去，马奇太太轻声跟梅格说出布鲁克先生的真实感情。"嗯，亲爱的，你自己的意思呢？你是否爱他？爱得足以等到他有能力为你筑一个爱巢的那一天？或者你宁可暂时无牵无挂、无拘无束？""我吃够了担惊受怕的苦头，起码很长一段时间内我都不想跟情呀爱的有什么联系了，也许永远都不，"梅格使着性子说道，"如果约翰不知道这桩荒唐事，那就别告诉他，让乔和劳里闭上嘴。我不想被人蒙在鼓里当傻子耍--这是个耻辱！"梅格素来性格温柔，此时却被这个恶作剧气得使上了性子，自尊心也受到了伤害，马奇太太连忙劝慰她，允诺一定万分小心，绝不泄漏秘密。大厅里传来了劳里的脚步声。梅格立即躲入书房，马奇太太独自一人接待这位"罪犯"。乔怕他不来，并没有说明把他叫来的原因，但他一看到马奇太太的脸色就明白了，于是愧疚不安地站着，帽子转过来又转过去，让人一眼就看出他正是罪魁祸首。乔撤出了房间，但却像个看守一样在客厅里大步徘徊，仿佛担心囚犯会逃走似的。
　　客厅里的声音忽高忽低，持续了半个小时，但两人到底谈了些什么姑娘们却无从知道。
　　当她们被叫进去时，劳里站在母亲身边，满脸悔意，乔见了心里一软，当场便原谅了他，只是不愿表露出来。劳里低声下气地向梅格赔不是，并安慰她布鲁克先生完全不知道这个玩笑，梅格心里才松了一口气，并接受了他的道歉。
　　"我到死也不会告诉他--即使严刑拷问也不说；这样你会原谅我了吧，梅格？我真想为你做任何事，来证明我是多么后悔，"他说道，满脸羞愧之色。
　　"我尽量吧，但这实在不是绅士的作风。我料不到你竟这样狡诈恶毒，劳里，"梅格佯装严厉地责备道，借以掩饰自己的窘态。
　　"我深知自己罪无可恕，你们一个月不跟我说话我也是罪有应得，但你们不会这样对我的，是吗？"他说话时可怜巴巴地把双手十指交叉叠在一起，他的声调具有不可抗拒的说服力，大家都没法再对他横眉怒目，尽管他犯下了如此恶行。梅格宽恕了他，马奇太太虽然竭力保持严肃，但听他说愿意做牛做马将功折罪，愿意在受到伤害的梅格面前卑躬屈膝，那凝重的脸色也缓和下来。
　　乔独自走到一边，试图铁起心肠，不吃他这一套，结果成功地把面孔绷得老紧，仿佛对他深恶痛绝。劳里看了她两回，但她全无一点怜悯的意思，他觉得受了伤害，便转身把背脊对着她，一直等母亲和梅格说完了，才向她深深一弯身子，一言不发，径自走出门去。
　　他一走，乔便后悔自己刚才做得太无情，待梅格和母亲上了楼后，她感到十分孤独，很想见一见特迪。踌躇了半天，她还是向自己的冲动屈服了，于是携了一本书，径直走到那座大房子前。
　　"劳伦斯先生在家吗？"乔问一位走下楼梯的女佣。
　　"在的，小姐。但我想他现在不便见客。""为什么？他病了吗？""唉，不是，小姐，他和劳里先生当众吵了一架，小先生不知为什么发脾气，惹得老先生火气冲天，所以我这会不敢走近他。""劳里在哪儿？""关在自己的房间里，凭我怎样敲门他都不理。我不知道拿这顿饭这么办，饭菜准备好了，却没有人来吃。""我去看看怎么回事。我不怕他们。"乔走上去，来到劳里的小书房前，使劲敲门。
　　"别敲！不然我打开门揍你一顿！"年青人大声恫吓道。
　　乔接着又敲，门突然打开，趁劳里惊讶得一时没有反应过来，乔快步冲了进去。乔知道怎样驾驭他，看到他果然大动肝火，便装出一副幡然悔悟的样子，双膝轻轻跪下，柔声说道："请恕我一时无礼，我特来讲和，讲不成便不走。""行了，起来吧，别像个傻瓜，乔。"他态度傲慢地答应了乔的请求。
　　"谢谢，我起来了。我能问问出了什么事吗？你似乎心里很不畅快。""我被人摇了肩膀，我忍无可忍！"劳里愤怒地咆吼道。
　　"谁摇你了？"乔问。
　　"爷爷。如果换了别人我保准--"这位心灵受创的年青人右手狠狠一挥，把话止祝"那有什么。我也常常摇你，你从不生气，"乔安慰道。
　　"呸！你是个姑娘家，那样摇摇是一种乐趣。但我不允许男人摇我。""如果你像现在这样暴跳如雷，被人摇两下也不足为怪。
　　你爷爷为什么那样对你？"
　　"就因为我不肯告诉他你妈妈为什么把我叫去。我答应过不说的，当然不能失信。""你不能换个法儿满足一下他老人家吗？""不能，他就是要听真相，完完整整的真相，其他一概不听。假如能不拉扯上梅格，我可以告诉他部分真相。既然不能，我便一句话也不说，由他去骂，最后他竟一把抓住我的领口。我气坏了，赶紧脱身溜掉，担心自己气昏了头，会做出什么事来。""这是他不对，但我知道他后悔了，还是下去和解吧。我来帮你说。""那我宁可去死，我不过开了一个玩笑，难道便要被你们每个人轮流教训、挨揍不成？我是对不起梅格，也已经堂堂正正地道了歉；但我不会再向谁卑躬屈膝，如果我没有做错。""但他并不知道埃""他应该信任我，不要把我当小孩子对待。没有用的，乔，他得明白我能够照顾自己，不需要牵着人家的围裙带子走。""真是个辣椒罐子！"乔叹道，"你说这事该怎么解决？""哦。地应该跟我道歉，我说过这事不能告诉他，他应该相信我。""哎呀！他不会这样做的。""那我就不下去。""听我说，特迪，理智一点。让这事过去吧，我会尽我所能解释清楚的。你总不能老呆在这里吧，这样激动有什么用呢？""我可并不打算在这里久留。我要离家出走，漂泊异乡，当爷爷想我时，他很快就会回心转意了。""但你恐怕不该这样伤他的心。""别啰嗦。我要去华盛顿看布鲁克；那地方充满乐趣，我要无忧无虑地痛玩一常""那有多痛快！我恨不能也跟了去。"乔脑海里展现出一幅幅生动的军人生活画面，不觉忘记了自己现在充当的角色。
　　"那就一起走吧，嗨！为什么不呢？你给父亲一个惊喜，我给布鲁克一个突然袭击。这个玩笑妙不可言；干吧，乔。我们留一封平安信，然后立即出发。我有足够的钱；这样做对你也有益无害，因为你是去看父亲。"乔似乎就要点头了，因为这个计划虽然轻率，却正适合她的性格。她早已厌倦了的禁闭式的护理生活，渴望改变一下环境，想到父亲，想到新奇、有趣、充满魅力的军营和医院，想到自由自在的生活，她不禁意乱神迷。她憧憬地向窗外望去，一双眼睛闪闪发亮，但她的眼光落到了对面的老屋上面，她摇摇头，伤心地作出了决定。
　　"假如我是个男孩子，我们就可以一起出走，玩个痛痛快快；但我是个可怜的女孩子，只能规规矩矩守在家里。别引诱我了，特迪，这是个疯狂的计划。""这正是乐趣之所在，"劳里说。他天生任性固执，一时冲动之下，竟然一心要做出出格的事情。
　　"别说了！"乔捂着耳朵叫道，"'恪守妇道'就是我的命运。我还是认命吧。我是来感化你的，不是来听你教唆我。""我知道梅格一定会败我的兴，但我以为你更有胆略呢。"劳里用激将法。
　　"坏小子，住嘴吧！坐下好好反思自己的罪过，别撺掇得我也罪孽深重。如果我让你爷爷来向你赔个不是，你就不走了吧？"乔严肃地问。
　　"嗯，但你办不到，"劳里答道，他愿意和解，但觉得必须先平息心头的一股怨气。
　　"如果我能对付小的，就能对付老的，"乔一面走一面喃喃自语，劳里则留在原地，双手托着头，弯腰看铁路图。
　　"进来！"乔敲门时，劳伦斯先生的声音听起来越发硬邦邦的。
　　"是我，先生，来还书，"乔走进门，温和地说道。
　　"还要再借吗？"老人脸色十分难看，却尽量装得若无起事。
　　"要的。我迷上了老萨姆，想读读第二部，"乔答道，希望藉再借一本鲍斯威尔的《约翰生》来平息老人的心头之怒，因为他以前推荐过这本生动传神的著作。
　　他把踏梯推到放约翰生文学的书架前，拧紧的浓眉舒展了一些。乔跳上去，坐在踏梯顶上，假装找书，心里却在盘算怎样开口最好，才能提及她来访的危险的目的。劳伦斯先生似乎猜到了她的心事，他在屋子里快步兜了几圈，然后转头看着她，突然发问，吓得乔把《拉塞勒斯》掉到了地上。
　　"那小子干了什么？别护着他。看他回家后神不守舍的样子，我就知道他惹了祸。但他一个字也不说，我摇他的领口，想吓他说出真话，地却逃上楼，把自己反锁在房间里。""他是做错了事，但我们已经原谅了他，而且一致许诺不跟别人说，"乔犹犹豫豫地开口说。
　　"那不行，不能因为你们姑娘们心肠软，他便可以逍遥法外。如果他干了坏事，就应该承认道歉，并受到惩罚。说出来吧，乔，我不想被蒙在鼓里。"劳伦斯先生形容可怖，声调严厉，乔真想拔腿就跑，但她正坐在高高的踏梯上，而他就站在脚下，俨如一只挡道的狮子，她只好原地不动，鼓足勇气开了口。
　　"真的，先生，我不能说。妈妈不许说。劳里已经坦白承认了，道了歉，并受到了重罚。我们不说出来并非要护他，而是要护另外一个人，如果你干预，那只会徒添麻烦。请你不要管吧；我也有部分责任，不过现在没事了；我们还是把它忘掉，谈谈《漫游者》或什么令人愉快的东西吧。""去他的《漫游者》！下来向我保证我那冒冒失失的小子没有做出什么忘恩负义、鲁莽无礼的事情。如果他做了，居然对你们恩将仇报，那我就亲手揍扁他。"此话虽然说得十分严重，却并没有吓倒乔，因为她知道这个脾气暴躁的老绅士绝不会动他的孙子一个指头的，他说的话要反过来听。她依言走下踏梯，把恶作剧尽量轻描淡写地复述一遍，既不把梅格牵涉进去，也不背离事实。
　　"唔--啊--好吧，如果那小子是因为守诺言才不说，而不是因为执拗，我就原谅他。这家伙是个牛脾气，很难管祝"劳伦斯先生边说边把头发搔得像被大风吹过一样，紧锁的眉头也舒展开来。
　　"我也一样，一意孤行起来就像脱僵的野马，怎样拉也拉不住，不过，一句好话却能化解我。"乔想替她倒霉的朋友说句好话，而她的朋友却好像接二连三地又陷入了困境。
　　"你以为我待他不好吗，嗯？"老人敏锐地问。
　　"噢，哎呀，不是的，先生，其实您有时对他甚至还太宠爱了一点儿，而当他淘气捣蛋时，您又稍微心急了一点儿。您看是不是这样？"乔决定这回把心里话全倒出来，她壮着胆子说完，激动得微微颤抖，但却努力装得十分镇静。出乎意料的是--这也令她舒了一口气--老人只是把自己的眼镜啪的一声扔到桌子上，坦诚地叫道--"你说得对，姑娘，我就是这样！我爱这孩子，但他把我折磨得受不了啦，如果这样下去，我不知道会有什么结果。""我告诉您，他要离家出走。"话方说出乔便后悔了；她其实是想警告他劳里不能忍受太严格的管制，希望地对小伙子能更宽容一点。
　　劳伦斯先生红润的脸膛霎时变了颜色，他坐下来，焦虑不安地扫了一眼挂在桌子上方的一幅美男子图像。那是劳里的父亲，他年轻时离家出走，违背老人的旨意结了婚。乔相信他又在追悔痛苦的往事，直希望自己刚才闭着嘴巴。
　　"除非是逼急了他才会这样做，书读倦了的时候他也会这样恫吓两句。我也常有这个念头呢，尤其是在剪了头发之后，所以如果您想我们了，不妨发个寻人广告，并在开往印度的轮船上查查有没有两个小伙子。"她说着笑起来，劳伦斯先生舒了一口气，显然把这当作是一个玩笑。
　　"你这莽撞鬼，怎敢这样说话？你眼里头还有没有我，这样没有规矩？这些姑娘小伙子啊！他们真会折磨人，但没有他们我们又活不下去，"他说着愉快地拧拧她的脸颊，"去，把那小子带来吃饭，告诉他没事了，劝他别在他爷爷面前装得愁眉苦脸的，我受不了。""他不会下来的，先生；他心情很坏，因为当他说他不能告诉你的时候，你不信他的话，我想您这样摇他大大伤害了他的感情。"乔努力装出一副可怜巴巴的样子，但一定没有装好，因为劳伦斯先生笑了，她知道她胜利了。
　　"我为此道歉，而且还应该感谢他没有反过来摇我呢，我想。那家伙到底想怎么样？"老人显然为自己的暴躁感到有点不好意思。
　　"如果我是您，我就给他写一封道歉信，先生。他说要您道了歉才下来，还说起华盛顿，而且越说越不像话。一封正式的道歉信可以让他意识到自己是多么愚蠢，并让他心平气和地下来。写吧；他喜欢闹着玩，而这样比当面说更有趣儿。
　　我把信带上去，跟他摆明道理。"
　　劳伦斯先生敏锐地盯了她一眼，带上眼镜，一字一句地说："你是只狡猾的小猫，不过我不介意被你和贝思牵着走。
　　来，给我一张纸，我们把这桩荒唐事来个了断。"信中所用的措辞诚恳恭敬，表达了一位绅士对伤害了另一位的深深歉意。乔在劳伦斯先生的秃顶上印了一个吻，跑上楼把道歉信从劳里的门缝下面塞进去，透过钥匙孔谆谆告诫他要听话、有涵养，又讲了一些大道理。看到门又锁上了，她便把信留在那儿让劳里看，自己悄悄走开，才走了几步，年青人从楼梯扶手上滑下来，站在下面等她，脸上流露出一种无比圣洁的神情。"你真好，乔！刚才有没有碰得头破血流？"他笑着说。
　　"没有，总的说来，他相当心平气和呢。""啊哈！我全想通了，虽说我被你独自遗弃在屋里，精神到了崩溃的边缘，"他内疚地说。
　　 "别这么说，翻过新的一页重新开始，特迪，我的儿。""我不断翻过新页，又把它们一一毁掉，就像我以前毁掉自己的练习本一样；我开的头太多了，永远不会有结果，"他悲哀地说道。
　　"去吃你的饭吧，吃饱了你就会好受一些。男人肚子饿的时候喜欢发牢骚。"乔说毕飞步走出，来到前门。
　　"这是对'我派'的'标价'，"劳里学着艾美的话回答，乖乖地和爷爷一起进餐去了。此后一整天老人心情奇佳，言谈举止也极其谦和恭敬。
　　人人都以为云开雾散，事情就此结束了，谁知这个恶作剧却带来了严重的后果。因为虽然大家都把它忘得一干二净，梅格却把它记在心里。她虽然在人前只字不提，心里却经常想到那位年青人，而且夜里频频做梦。一次，乔在她姐姐的书桌里头找邮票，居然搜得一张上面涂鸦般写满了"约翰·布鲁克太太"字样的纸片，恨得她咬牙切齿，把纸片投进火中，她知道劳里的玩笑使她又恨又怕的那一天加速到来了。

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一二三四五六七~~~

举报只看该作者 23楼发表于: 2013-10-25 0

Chapter Twenty-two Pleaseant Meadows

Like sunshine after a storm were the peaceful weeks which followed. The invalids improved rapidly, and Mr. March began to talk or returning early in the new year. Beth was soon able to lie on the study sofa all day, amusing herself with the well-beloved cats at first, and in time with doll's sewing, which had fallen sadly behindhand. Her once active limbs were so stiff and feeble that Jo took her for a daily airing about the house in her strong arms. Meg cheerfully blackened and burned her white hands cooking delicate messes for `the dear', while Amy, a loyal slave of the ring, celebrated her return by giving away as many of her treasures as she could prevail on her sisters to accept.
As Christmas approached, the usual mysteries began to haunt the house, and Jo frequently convulsed the family by proposing utterly impossible or magnificently absurd ceremonies, in honor of this unusually merry Christmas. Laurie was equally impracticable, and would have had bonfires, skyrockets, and triumphal arches, if he had had his own way. After many skirmishes and snubbings, the ambitious pair were considered effectually quenched and went about with forlorn faces, which were rather belied by explosions of laughter when the two got together.
Several days of unusually mild weather fitly ushered in a splendid Christmas Day. Hannah `felt in her bones' that it was going to be an unusually fine day, and she proved herself a true prophetess, for everybody and everything seemed bound to produce a grand success. To begin with, Mr. March wrote that he should soon be with them, then Beth felt uncommonly well that morning, and, being dressed in her mother's gift, a soft crimson merino wrapper, was borne in high triumph to the window to behold the offering of Jo and Laurie. The Unquenchables had done their best to be worthy of the name, for like elves they had worked by night and conjured up a comical surprise. Out in the garden stood a stately snow maiden, crowned with holly, bearing a basket of fruit and flowers in one hand, a great roll of music in the other, a perfect rainbow of an Afghan round her chilly shoulders, and a Christmas carol issuing from her lips on a pink paper streamer.

THE JUNGFRAU TO BETH
God bless you, dear Queen Bess!
May nothing you dismay,
But health and peace and happiness
Be yours, this Christmas day.
Here's fruit to feed our busy bee,
And flowers for her nose.
Here's music for her pianee,
An afghan for her toes,
A portrait of Joanna, see,
By Raphael No. 2,
ho laboured with great industry
To make it fair and true.
Accept a ribbon red, I beg,
For Madam Purrer's tail,
And ice cream made by lovely Peg,
A Mont Blanc in a pail.
Their dearest love my makers laid
Within my breast of snow.
Accept it, and the Alpine maid,
From Laurie and from Jo.

How Beth laughed when she saw it, how Laurie ran up and down to bring in the gifts, and what ridiculous speeches Jo made as she presented them.
"I'm so full of happiness, that if Father was only here, I couldn't hold one drop more," said Beth, quite sighing with contentment as Jo carried her off to the study to rest after the excitement, and to refresh herself with some of the delicious grapes the `Jungfrau' had sent her.
"So am I," added Jo, slapping the pocket wherein reposed the long-desired UNDINE AND SINTRAM.
"I'm sure I am," echoed Amy, poring over the engraved copy of the Madonna and Child, which her mother had given her in a pretty frame.
"Of course I am!" cried Meg, smoothing the silvery folds of her first sild dress, for Mr. Laurence had insisted on giving it. "How can I be otherwise?" said Mrs. March gratefully, as her eyes went from her husband's letter to Beth's smiling face, and her hand carressed the brooch made of gray and golden, chestnut and dark brown hair, which the girls had just fastened on her breast.
Now and then, in this workaday world, things do happen in the delightful storybook fashion, and what a comfort it is. Half an hour after everyone had said they were so happy they could only hold one drop more, the drop came. Laurie opened the parlor door and popped his head in very quietly. He might just as well have turned a somersault and uttered an Indian war whoop, for his face was so full of suppressed excitement and his voice so treacherously joyful that everyone jumped up, though he only said, in a queer, breathless voice, "Here's another Christmas present for the March family."
Before the words were well out of his mouth, he was whisked away somehow, and in his place appeared a tall man, muffled up to the eyes, leaning on the arm of another tall man, who tried to say something and couldn't. Of course there was a general stampede, and for several minutes everybody seemed to lose their wits, for the strangest things were done, and no one said a word.
Mr. March became invisible in the embrace of four pairs of loving arms. Jo disgraced herself by nearly fainting away, and had to be doctored by Laurie in the china closet. Mr. Brooke kissed Meg entirely by mistake, as he somewhat incoherently explained. And Amy, the dignified, tumbled over a stool, and never stopping to get up, hugged and cried over her father's boots in the most touching manner. Mrs. March was the first to recover herself, and held up her hand with a warning, "Hush! Remember Beth."
But it was too late. The study door flew open, the little red wrapper appeared on the threshold, joy put strength into the feeble limbs, and Beth ran straight into her father's arms. Never mind what happened just after that, for the full hearts overflowed, washing away the bitterness of the past and leaving only the sweetness of the present.
It was not at all romantic, but a hearty laugh set everybody straight again, for Hannah was discovered behind the door, sobbing over the fat turkey, which she had forgotten to put down when she rushed up from the kitchen. As the laugh subsided, Mrs. March began to thank Mr. Brooke for his faithful care of her husband, at which Mr. Brooke suddenly remembered that Mr. March needed rest, and seizing Laurie, he precipitately retired. Then the two invalids were ordered to repose, which they did, by both sitting in one big chair and talking hard.
Mr. March told how he had longed to surprise them, and how, when the fine weather came, he had been allowed by his doctor, to take advantage of it, how devoted Brooke had been, and how he was altogether a most estimable and upright young man. Why Mr. March paused a minute just there, and after a glance at Meg, who was violently poking the fire, looked at his wife with an inquiring lift of the eyebrows, I leave you to imagine. Also why Mrs. March gently nodded her head and asked, rather abruptly, if he wouldn't like to have something to eat. Jo saw and understood the look, and she stalked grimly away to get wine and beef tea, muttering to herself as she slammed the door, "I hate estimable young men with brown eyes!"
There never was such a Christmas dinner as they had that day. The fat turkey was a sight to behold, when Hannah sent him up, stuffed, browned, and decorated. So was the plum pudding, which melted in one's mouth, likewise the jellies, in which Amy reveled like a fly in a honeypot. Everything turned out well, which was a mercy, Hannah said, "For my mind was that flustered, Mum, that it's a merrycle I didn't roast the pudding, and stuff the turkey with raisins, let alone bilin' of it in a cloth."
Mr. Laurence and his grandson dined with them, also Mr. Brooke, at whom Jo glowered darkly, to Laurie's infinite amusement. Two easy chairs stood side by side at the head of the table, in which sat Beth and her father, feasting modestly on chicken and a little fruit. They drank healths, told stories, sang songs, `reminisced', as the old folks say, and had a thoroughly good time. A sleigh ride had been planned, but the girls would not leave their father, so the guests departed early, and as twilight gathered, the happy family sat together round the fire.
"Just a year ago we were groaning over the dismal Christmas we expected to have. Do you remember?" asked Jo, breaking a short pause which had followed a long conversation about many things.
"Rather a pleasant year on the whole!" said Meg, smiling at the fire, and congratulating herself on having treated Mr. Brooke with dignity.
"I think it's been a pretty hard one," observed Amy, watching the light shine on her ring with thoughtful eyes.
"i'm glad it's over, because we've got you back," whispered Beth, who sat on her father's knee.
"Rather a rough road for you to travel, my little pilgrims, especially the latter part of it. But you have got on bravely, and I think the burdens are in a fair way to tumble off very soon," said Mr. March, looking with fatherly satisfaction at the four young faces gathered round him.
"How do you know? Did Mother tell you?' asked Jo.
"Not much. Straws show which way the wind blows, and I've made several discoveries today."
"Oh, tell us what they are!" cried Meg, who sat beside him.
"Here is one." And taking up the hand which lay on the arm of his chair, he pointed to the roughened forefinger, a burn on the back, and two or three little hard spots on the palm. "I remember a time when this hand was white and smooth, and your first care was to keep it so. It was very pretty then, but to me it is much prettier now, for in this seeming blemishes I read a little history. A burnt offering has been made to vanity, this hardened palm has earned something better than blisters, and I'm sure the sewing done by these pricked fingers will last a long time, so much good will went into the stitches. Meg, my dear, I value the womanly skill which keeps home happy more than white hands or fashionable accomplishments. I'm proud to shake this good, industrious little hand, and hope I shall not soon be asked to give it away."
If Meg had wanted a reward for hours of patient labor, she received it in the hearty pressure of her father's hand and the approving smile he gave her.
"What about Jo? Please say something nice, for she has tried so hard and been so very, very good to me," said Beth in her father's ear.
He laughed and looked across at the tall girl who sat opposite, with and unusually mild expression in her face.
"In spite of the curly crop, I don't see the `son Jo' whom I left a year ago," said Mr. March. "I see a young lady who pins her collar straight, laces her boots neatly, and neither whistles, talks slang, nor lies on the rug as she used to do. Her face is rather thin and pale just now, with watching and anxiety, but I like to look at it, for it has grown gentler, and her voice is lower. She doesn't bounce, but moves quietly, and takes care of a certain little person in a motherly way which delights me. I rather miss my wild girl, but if I get a strong, helpful, tenderhearted woman in her place, I shall feel quite satisfied. I don't know whether the shearing sobered our black sheep, but I do know that in all Washington I couldn't find anything beautiful enough to be bought with the five-and-twenty dollars my good girl sent me."
Jo's keen eyes were rather dim for a minute, and her thin face grew rosy in the firelight as she received her father's praise, feeling that she did deserve a portion of it.
"Now, Beth," said Amy, longing for her turn, but ready to wait.
"There's so little of her, I'm afraid to say much, for fear she will slip away altogether, though she is not so shy as she used to be," began their father cheerfully. But recollecting how nearly he had lost her, he held her close, saying tenderly, with her cheek against his own, "I've got you safe, my Beth, and I'll keep you so, please God."
After a minute's silence, he looked down at Amy, who sat on the cricket at his feet, and said, with a caress of the shining hair...
"I observed that Amy took drumsticks at dinner, ran errands for her mother all the afternoon, gave Meg her place tonight, and has waited on every on with patience and good humor. I also observe that she does not fret much nor look in the glass, and has not even mentioned a very pretty ring which she wears, so I conclude that she has learned to think of other people more and of herself less, and has decided to try and mold her character as carefully as she molds her little clay figures. I am glad of this, for though I should be very proud of a graceful statue made by her, I shall be infinitely prouder of a lovable daughter with a talent for making life beautiful to herself and others."
"What are you thinking of, Beth?" asked Jo, when Amy had thanked her father and told about her ring.
"I read in PILGRIM'S PROGRESS today how, after many troubles, christian and Hopeful came to a pleasant green meadow where lilies bloomed all year round, and there they rested happily, as we do now, before they went on to their journey's end," answered Beth, adding, as she slipped out of her father's arms and went to the instrument, "It's singing time now, and I want to be in my old place. I'll try to sing the song of the shepherd boy which the Pilgrims heard. I made the music for Father, because he likes the verses."
So, sitting at the dear little piano, Beth softly touched the keys, and in the sweet voice they had never thought to hear again, sang to her own accompaniment the quaint hymn, which was a singularly fitting song for her.
He that is down need fear no fall,
He that is low no pride.
He that is humble ever shall
Have God to be his guide.
I am content with what I have,
Little be it, or much.
And, Lord! Contentment still I crave,
Because Thou savest such.
Fulness to them a burden is,
That go on pilgrimage.
Here little, and hereafter bliss,
Is best from age to age!

第二十二章怡人的草地

　　所谓雨过天晴，之后的几个星期风平浪静。病人恢复得非常快，马奇先生开始谈到他新年初回家。贝思很快便可以整天躺在书房的沙发上玩乐，起初是跟那几只宠爱的猫儿玩，后来便掂起了洋娃娃活计，吃力地慢慢缝制，让人见了伤心。
　　她一向灵活的四肢如今变得僵硬无力，乔每天得用力把她抱到屋外呼吸新鲜空气。梅格愉快地为"乖乖女"烹调各式美味伙食，把一双雪白的手熏得黑糊糊的，而艾美，这位姐姐们的忠实仆从，则费尽唇舌地劝说姐姐们接受她的宝藏，以纪念她回家之喜。
　　圣诞节一天天临近了，屋里开始弥漫着一股神秘的节日气氛。乔为这个不同寻常的"快乐圣诞"频频献计，提出许多完全没有可能或滑天下之大稽的庆祝活动，令全家人捧腹大笑。劳里同样不切合实际，竟然出些点大篝火、放焰火、搭凯旋门的主意。大家唇熗舌剑，各不相让，最后，那对野心勃勃的朋友终于偃旗息鼓，拉长着脸乱兜圈子，大家正以为他们就此罢休了，却又看到两人走到一起，叽叽喳喳，哈哈大笑。
　　近日来天气异常暖和，恰到好处地带来了一个阳光灿烂的圣诞节。罕娜"从骨子里头感觉到"这一天将会是一个不同寻常的大好日子，事实证明她的预言完全正确，因为似乎一切顺利，人人心想事成。首先，马奇先生来信说他很快就要和她们团聚。然后，那天贝思早上觉得特别精神，她穿着妈妈送给她的礼物--一件柔软的深红色美利奴羊毛晨衣--被背到窗前观赏乔和劳里的献礼。两位誓不罢休者大展身手，为了自己的名声，一夜之间像小精灵一样创造了一个妙趣横生的奇观。只见外面花园里耸立着一个庄严高贵的雪人少女，头戴冬青枝花冠，一只手挽一篮水果鲜花，另一只手执一大卷新乐谱，冰冷的肩膀上披一条彩虹般缤纷的阿富汗披围巾，嘴里吐出一首圣诞颂歌，歌词写在一面粉红色的纸幡上：高山少女致贝思上帝保佑你，亲爱的贝思女王！
　　愿你永不失望，快乐、平和、健康，
　　在这喜庆的圣诞。
　　送上水果给我们勤劳的蜜蜂品尝，
　　送上鲜花让她闻闻馥郁的芬芳；
　　送上乐谱让她在小钢琴上弹奏，
　　送上阿富汗披巾让她翩翩起舞。
　　送上一幅乔安娜的画像，呀，
　　这可是拉斐尔第二的作品，
　　为了画得形神兼备，
　　她可是下足了功力。
　　再赠你一条红绸巾，
　　用来点缀"佩儿小姐"的尾巴；　
　　还有一桶佩格做的冰淇淋--
　　堆得像勃朗峰一样高耸入云。
　　我的创造者把他们的挚爱
　　放进我雪白的心胸：
　　请从乔和劳里的手中
　　收下这份爱吧，连同这位高山少女。
　　贝思看到这份歌词笑得好不开心，劳里跑上跑下把礼物拿进来，乔则语无伦次地向大家发表致词。
　　兴奋过后，乔把贝思抱到书房休息，贝思吃着"高山少女"送给她的又鲜又甜的菩提子提神，心满意足地叹息道："我感到太幸福了，可惜爸爸不在这里，否则就十全十美了。""我也一样，"乔拍拍装着渴望已久的《水中女神》一书的口袋说。
　　"我当然也一样，"艾思响应道。她正在认真研究母亲镶在精致的画框中送给她的版画"圣母和圣婴"。
　　"我也是！"梅格叫道。她正在抚平平生第一件丝质衣裳上面的折皱，这件银色丝绸裙子是劳伦斯先生坚持让她收下的。
　　"我又怎能不是呢？"马奇太太看着丈夫写来的信，又看着贝思的笑脸，轻轻抚摸着那枚刚刚由女儿们别在她胸前，用灰色、金色、栗色和深棕色头发做成的胸针，心中充满感激之情。
　　真是无巧不成书，这沉闷乏味的俗世有时确实会发生一些令人愉快的巧事，给人带来极大的安慰。半个小时前，大家都还在说只可惜了一件事，否则就十全十美了，哪想到这件事说来就来。劳里打开客厅大门，悄悄地把头伸进来。他刚才也许是翻了个筋斗，或是发了一声印地安战场上的那种呐喊声，因为他脸上露出抑制不住的兴奋之情，声音显得欣喜又神秘，大家禁不住全跳了起来。只听他怪腔怪调、气喘吁吁地说道："马奇家的又一个圣诞礼物现在到来！"话音未落，他便被轻轻推到一边，取而代之的是一个高个子男人，蒙着脸，只露出一双眼睛，靠在另一个高个子男人的手臂上，那男人想说什么却又说不出来。情形当即大乱，大家一时似乎全都失去了理智，她们不发一言，却做出极起离奇古怪的举动。母女四人一拥而上，动情地把马奇先生紧紧围抱起来，乔几乎晕倒，不得不在瓷器间里接受劳里的救治，大失淑女风度；布鲁克先生亲吻梅格，那是纯属误会，他后来结结巴巴地解释；而艾美，这位高贵小姐，被凳子绊了一跤，也不爬起来，而是就势抱着她父亲的双脚动情大哭。马奇太太第一个恢服了常态，举起手来示意："嘘！别忘了贝思！" 但已经太迟了；书房门猛然打开，穿着红色晨衣的小人儿跨出门槛--欢乐给软弱无力的四肢注入了力量--贝思直扑进父亲的怀中。此后发生了什么已无关重要。洋溢心头的幸福之情已冲走了昨天的痛苦，此时此刻，大家心中只有一片甜蜜，一片温馨。
　　此时发生一了一件虽不浪漫但却令人捧腹的事情，把大家重新带回到现实生活之中。大家发现罕娜站在门后，捧着肥硕的火鸡抽抽噎噎：原来她从厨房冲出来时忘了把火鸡放下。大家笑过后，马奇太太开始向布鲁克先生道谢，感谢他精心照顾自己的丈夫，布鲁克先生突然想起马奇先生需要休息，赶快拽起劳里仓促撤离。众人命两位病人休息，两人不敢违命，便一同坐在一张大椅子上谈个不停。
　　马奇先生诉说了自己是如何想让她们惊喜一番，医生是如何让他趁天气暖和出院，布鲁克这年轻人又是如何热心，如何正直有涵养等等。说到这里马奇先生顿一顿，扫了一眼正在捅炉火的梅格，扬起双眉望望妻子，似乎在询问什么，起中深意何在，请读者们自己想象；马奇太太也轻轻点点头，然后颇为突然地问他是否要吃点什么。乔明白这个眼色的意思，便板着面孔去拿牛肉汁和酒，一面把门呼的一声带上，咕咕哝哝地自语道："我憎恨棕色眼睛有涵养的年轻人！"那天的圣诞晚餐是有史以来最为丰盛的一次。罕娜端上的火鸡又肥又大，里头塞满了填料，烤得赤里透红，而且点缀得十分好看；葡萄干布丁也同样令人垂涎欲滴，放进口里就溶化了；还有令人胃口大开的果子冻，把艾美喜得就像落到了蜜罐里的苍蝇，吃得痛快淋漓。一切都尽如人意，这真是上天可怜，罕娜说："因为我当时心里头别提有多慌张，太太，我没有错把布丁烤熟，把菩提子干塞到火鸡里头，把火鸡包在布里煮，已经是一个奇迹了。"劳伦斯先生和他的孙子跟他们一起进餐，还有布鲁克先生--乔悻悻地对他怒目而视，令劳里乐不可支。贝思和父亲并排坐在桌子前面的两张安乐椅上，适度地吃一点鸡肉和少许水果。他们为健康干杯，讲故事，唱歌，"话旧"，如老人家所说，玩得十分痛快。有人提议滑雪橇，但姑娘们不愿离开父亲；于是客人们早早告辞。夜幕降临之际，幸福的一家人围着炉火团团而坐。
　　大家谈了许多许多，然后停顿了一会，乔打破沉静，问："一年前我们在沉闷乏味的圣诞节前夕大发牢骚。你们还记得吗？""总的来说这一年过得相当愉快！"梅格笑微微地望着火苗说，暗暗庆幸自己刚才在布鲁克先生面前没有失态。
　　"我认为这一年相当艰苦，"艾美评论道，若有所思地看着手上亮光闪闪的戒指。
　　"我庆幸这一年已经过去了，因为我们把您盼回来了，"坐在父亲膝上的贝思轻声说道。
　　"你们走的路确实不平坦，我的小香客们，尤其是后半部分。但你们勇敢地向前走，我想你们肩上的担子很快就能落下来的，"马奇先生慈爱地望着围绕身边的四张年轻面孔，满意地说。
　　"你怎么知道的？妈妈跟你说了吗？"乔问。
　　"不多。不过，草动知风向，我今天有几个发现呢。""噢，告诉我们是哪几个！"坐在他身旁的梅格叫道。
　　"这便是一个。"他把放在他椅子扶手上的手拿起来，指指变得粗糙的食指、手背上一个灼伤的疤痕，以及手掌上面三个小水泡。"我记得这只手曾经又白又嫩，而你最关心的是怎样把它保养好。它那时确实非常美，但在我眼中它现在变得更美了--因为上面的每一个疤痕都有一个小故事。祭拜神灵不过是一种虚浮的仪式，而这只长满老茧的手给我们带来许多实在的东西，我相信由这些戳满针孔的手指缝制出来的活计一定经久耐用，因为里头一针一线凝聚了多少苦心。梅格，我的好孩子，我认为女红比纤纤玉手和时髦的才艺更为宝贵，因为它能带来家庭幸福。我很荣幸能握紧这只灵巧、勤劳的小手，并希望能握久一些。"父亲紧紧握着梅格的小手，并向她投去赞赏的微笑，如果梅格希望她冗长乏味的工作能获得报酬的话，现在终于如愿以偿了。
　　"还有乔呢？请夸奖几句吧，她可拚命了，为我操尽了心，"贝思凑到父亲耳边说。
　　他笑了，望望坐在对面那位身材修长的姑娘，只见她棕色皮肤的脸庞上展现出一种非比寻常的柔情。
　　"虽然披着一头卷曲的短发，我看到的已经不是一年前我离开时的'乔小子'了，"马奇先生说，"我看到的是一位衣领别得笔挺、靴带系得利索、谈吐斯文，既不吹口哨、也不像以前一样随便躺在地毯上的年轻女士。由于照顾病人，忧虑劳碌，她这会儿面容瘦削苍白，但我喜欢看这张脸，因为它变得更温柔可爱了。她说话的声音也更轻柔了；她不再蹦跳，而是款款而行，并像慈母一样照顾一个小人儿，令我十分快慰。我很怀念我的野姑娘，但如果她变成一个坚强、能帮助人、心地善良的女子，我也该心满意足了。我不知道我们的小黑羊是否因剪了毛而变得严肃庄重，但我知道华盛顿的东西再多再漂亮，也没有一样值得我用好女儿寄来的二十五元钱购买。"听到父亲的夸奖，乔明亮的双眼有点模糊了，瘦削的面孔在炉火映照下升起了两朵红晕，她觉得这话并不是很过分。
　　"现在轮到贝思。"艾美一心想轮到自己，但准备等下去。
　　"对于她我不敢多说，担心说多了会把她吓走，虽说她现在没有以前那么害羞了，"父亲笑嘻嘻地说。但想到自己差一点就要失去这个女儿，他把她紧紧抱住，和她脸贴着脸，动情地说："你平安在我身边，我的贝思，我要你一生平安，上帝保佑你！"他沉默了一会，然后低头望着坐在他脚边垫脚凳上的艾美，吻吻她亮丽的头发，说--"我注意到艾美吃饭时也吃鸡脚了，整个下午都替妈妈打杂，今天晚上又让位给梅格坐，耐心而愉快地帮大家的忙。我还注意到她不再动辄愁眉苦脸，不再照镜子，也不提她戴着一个漂亮戒指；由此我得出一个结论，她已经学会了多想别人，少想自己，并决心像塑造自己的小泥塑人物一样认真塑造自己的性格。我对此感到很高兴，我为女儿拥有艺术才华而感到十分骄傲，但我更为女儿拥有为别人、为自己美化生活的才华而感到无比自豪。""你在想什么，贝思？"当艾美谢过父亲并介绍了戒指的来历后，乔问。
　　"今天我读《天路历程》，读到'基督教徒'和'希望'如何排除万难来到一片长年开满百合花的怡人的草地上，在那儿愉快地歇息，如我们现在一样，然后继续向他们的目的地进发，"贝思答道，一面从父亲的臂膀中溜脱出来，慢慢走到钢琴前，又说，"唱歌时间到了，我想做回自己的旧角儿。我来试着唱唱朝圣者们听到的那首牧羊童子唱的歌儿。因为父亲喜欢这首歌的歌词，我特地为他作了曲。"说着，贝思坐到宝贝小钢琴前，轻轻触动琴键，边弹边唱，那种柔和甜美的声音他们从来没有听过。这首古雅的圣歌仿佛专为她而作：位低者无惧跌落，家贫者无需虚骄；谦和者心中自有，万能的上帝引导。
　　我心长知足，
　　贫富又何如；
　　呵，主！我惟求知足常乐，
　　只因此乐难求。
　　漫漫人生之旅，
　　负担使生活充实；
　　此生微不足道，
　　来世自有大光明。

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一二三四五六七~~~

举报只看该作者 24楼发表于: 2013-10-25 0

Chapter Twenty-three Aunt March Settles the Question

Like bees swarming after their queen, mother and daughters hovered about Mr. March the next day, neglecting everything to look at, wait upon, and listen to the new invalid, who was in a fair way to be killed by kindness. As he sat propped up in a big chair by Beth's sofa, with the other three close by, and Hannah popping in her head now and then `to peek at the dear man', nothing seemed needed to complete their happiness. But something was needed, and the elder ones felt it, though none confessed the fact. Mr. and Mrs. March looked at one another with an anxious expression, as their eyes followed Meg. Jo had sudden fits of sobriety, and was seen to shake her fist at Mr. Brooke's umbrella, which had been left in the hall. Meg was absent-minded, shy, and silent, started when the bell rang, and colored when John's name was mentioned. Amy said, "Everyone seemed waiting for something, and couldn't settle down, which was queer, since Father was safe at home," and Beth innocently wondered why their neighbors didn't run over as usual.
Laurie went by in the afternoon, and seeing Meg at the window, seemed suddenly possessed with a melodramatic fit, for he fell down on one knee in the snow, beat his breast, tore his hair, and clasped his hands imploringly, as if begging some boon. And when Meg told him to behave himself and go away, he wrung imaginary tears out of his handkerchief, and staggered round the corner as if in utter despair.
"What does the goose mean?" said Meg, laughing and trying to look unconscious.
"He's showing you how your John will go on by-and-by. Touchin, isn't it?" answered Jo scornfully.
"Don't say my John, it isn't proper or true," but Meg's voice lingered over the words as if they sounded pleasant to her. "Please don't plague me, Jo, I've told you I don't care much about him, and there isn't to be anything said, but we are all to be friendly, and go on as before."
"We can't, for something has been said, and Laurie's mischief has spoiled you for me. I see it, and so does Mother. You are not like your old self a bit, and seem ever so far away from me. I don't mean to plague you and will bear it like a man, but I do wish it was all settled. I hate to wait, so if you mean ever to do it, make haste and have it over quickly," said Jo pettishly.
"I can't say anything till he speaks, and he won't, because Father said I was too young," began Meg, bending over her work with a queer little smile, which suggested that she did not quite agree with her father on that point.
"If he did speak, you wouldn't know what to say, but would cry or blush, or let him have his own way, instead of giving a good, decided no."
"I'm not so silly and weak as you think. I know just what I should say, for I've planned it all, so I needn't be taken unawares. There's no knowing what may happen, and I wished to be prepared."
Jo couldn't help smiling at the important air which Meg had unconsciously assumed and which was as becoming as the pretty color varying in her cheeks.
"Would you mind telling me what you'd say?" asked Jo more respectfully.
"Not at all. You are sixteen now, quite old enough to be my confidente, and my experience will be useful to you by-and-by, perhaps, in your own affairs of this sort."
"Don't mean to have any. It's fun to watch other people philander, but I should feel like a fool doing it myself," said Jo, looking alarmed at the thought.
"I think not, if you liked anyone very much, and he liked you." Meg spoke as if to herself, and glanced out at the lane where she had often seen lovers walking together in the summer twilight.
"I thought you were going to tell your speech to that man," said Jo, rudely shortening her sister's little reverie.
"Oh, I should merely say, quite calmly and decidedly, `Thank you, Mr. Brooke, you are very kind, but I agree with Father that I am too young to enter into any engagement at present, so please say no more, but let us be friends as we were."
"Hum, that's stiff and cool enough! I don't believe you'll ever say it, and I know he won't be satisfied if you do. If he goes on like the rejected lovers in books, you'll give in, rather than hurt his feelings."
"No, I won't. I shall tell him I've made up my mind, and shall walk out of the room with dignity."
Meg rose as she spoke, and was just going to rehearse the dignified exit, when a step in the hall made her fly into her seat and begin to sew as fast as if her life depended on finishing that particular seam in a given time. Jo smothered a laugh at the sudden change, and when someone gave a modest tap, opened the door with a grim aspect which was anything but hospitable.
"Good afternoon. I came to get my umbrella, that is, to see how your father finds himself today," said Mr. Brooke, getting a trifle confused as his eyes went from one telltale face to the other.
"It's very well, he's in the rack. I'll get him, and tell it you are here." And having jumbled her father and the umbrella well together in her reply, Jo slipped out of the room to give Meg a chance to make her speech and air her dignity. But the instant she vanished, Meg began to sidle toward the door, murmuring...
"Mother will like to see you. Pray sit down, I'll call her."
"Don't go. Are you afraid of me, Margaret?" And Mr. Brooke looked so hurt that Meg thought she must have done something very rude. She blushed up to the little curls on her forehead, for he had never called her Margaret before, and she was surprised to find how natural and sweet it seemed to hear him say it. Anxious to appear friendly and at her ease, she put out her hand with a confiding gesture, and said gratefully...
"How can I be afraid when you have been so kind to Father? I only wish I could thank you for it."
"Shall I tell you how?" asked Mr. Brooke, holding the small hand fast in both his own, and looking down at Meg with so much love in the brown eyes that her heart began to flutter, and she both longed to run away and to stop and listen.
"Oh no, please don't, I'd rather not," she said, trying to withdraw her hand, and looking frightened in spite of her denial.
"I won't trouble you. I only want to know if you care for me a little, Meg. I love you so much, dear," added Mr. Brooke tenderly.
This was the moment for the calm, proper speech, but Meg didn't make it. She forgot every word of it, hung her head, and answered, "I don't know," so softly that John had to stoop down to catch the foolish little reply.
He seemed to think it was worth the trouble, for he smiled to himself as if quite satisfied, pressed the plump hand gratefully, and said in his most persuasive tone, "Will you try and find out? I want to know so much, for I can't go to work with any heart until I learn whether I am to have my reward in the end or not."
"I'm too young," faltered Meg, wondering was she was so fluttered, yet rather enjoying it.
"I'll wait, and in the meantime, you could be learning to like me. Would it be a very hard lesson, dear?"
"Not if I chose to learn it, but. . ."
"Please choose to learn, Meg. I love you to teach, and this is easier than German," broke in John, getting possession of the other hand, so that she had no way of hiding her face as he bent to look into it.
His tone was properly beseeching, but stealing a shy look at him, Meg saw that his eyes were merry as well as tender, and that he wore the satisfied smile of one who had no doubt of his success. This nettled her. Annie Moffat's foolish lessons in coquetry came into her mind, and the love of power, which sleeps in the bosoms of the best of little women, woke up all of a sudden and took possession of her. She felt excited and strange, and not knowing what else to do, followed a capricious impulse, and, withdrawing her hands, said petulantly, "I don't choose. Please go away and let me be!"
Poor Mr. Brooke looked as if his lovely castle in the air was tumbling about his ears, for he had never seen Meg in such a mood before, and it rather bewildered him.
"Do you really mean that?" he asked anxiously, following her as she walked away.
"Yes, I do. I don't want to be worried about such things. Father says I needn't, it's too soon and I'd rather not."
"Mayn't I hope you'll change your mind by-and-by? I'll wait and say nothing till you have had more time. Don't play with me, Meg. I didn't think that of you."
"Don't think of me at all. I'd rather you wouldn't," said Meg, taking a naughty satisfaction in trying her lover's patience and her own power. He was grave and pale now, and looked decidedly more like the novel heroes whom she admired, but he neither slapped his forehead nor tramped about the room as they did. He just stood looking at her so wistfully, so tenderly, that she found her heart relenting in spite of herself. What would have happened next I cannot say, if Aunt March had not come hobbling in at this interesting minute.
The old lady couldn't resist her longing to see her nephew, for she had met Laurie as she took her airing, and hearing of Mr. March's arrival, drove straight out to see him. The family were all busy in the back part of the house, and she had made her way quietly in, hoping to surprise them. She did surprise two of them so much that Meg started as if she had seen a ghost, and Mr. Brooke vanished into the study.
"Bless me, what's all this?" cried the old lady with a rap of her cane as she glanced from the pale young gentleman to the scarlet young lady.
"It's Father's friend. I'm so surprised to see you!" stammered Meg, feeling that she was in for a lecture now.
"That's evident," returned Aunt March, sitting down. "But what is Father's friend saying to make you look like a peony? There's mischief going on, and I insist upon knowing what it is," with another rap.
"We were only talking. Mr. Brooke came for his umbrella," began Meg, wishing that Mr. Brooke and the umbrella were safely out of the house.
"Brooke? That boy's tutor? Ah! I understand now. I know all about it. Jo blundered into a wrong message in one of your Father's letters, and I made her tell me. You haven't gone and accepted him, child?" cried Aunt March, looking scandalized.
"Hush! He'll hear. Shan't I call Mother?" said Meg, much troubled.
"Not yet. I've something to say to you, and I must free my mind at once. Tell me, do you mean to marry this Cook? If you do, not one penny of my money ever goes to you. Remember that, and be a sensible girl," said the old lady impressively.
Now Aunt March possessed in perfection the art of rousing the spirit of opposition in the gentlest people, and enjoyed doing it. The best of us have a spice of perversity in us, especially when we are young and in love. If Aunt March had begged Meg to accept John Brooke, she would probably have declared she couldn't think of it, but as she was preemptorily ordered not to like him, she immediately made up her mind that she would. Inclination as well as perversity made the decision easy, and being already much excited, Meg opposed the old lady with unusual spirit. "I shall marry whom I please, Aunt March, and you can leave your money to anyone you like," she said, nodding her head with a resolute air.
"Highty-tighty! Is that the way you take my advice, Miss? You'll be sorry for it by-and-by, when you've tried love in a cottage and found it a failure."
"It can't be a worse one than some people find in big houses," retorted Meg.
Aunt March put on her glasses and took a look at the girl, for she did not know her in this new mood. Meg hardly knew herself, she felt so brave and independent, so glad to defend John and assert her right to love him, if she liked. Aunt March saw that she had begun wrong, and after a little pause, made a fresh start, saying as mildly as she could, "Now, Meg, my dear, be reasonable and take my advice. I mean it kindly, and don't want you to spoil your whole life by making a mistake at the beginning. You ought to marry well and help your family. It's your duty to make a rich match and it ought to be impressed upon you."
"Father and Mother don't think so. They like John though he is poor."
"Your parents, my dear, have no more worldly wisdom than a pair of babies."
"I'm glad of it," cried Meg stoutly.
Aunt March took no notice, but went on with her lecture. "This Rook is poor and hasn't got any rich relations, has he?"
"No, but he has many warm friends."
"You can't live on friends, try it and see how cool they'll grow. He hasn't any business, has he?"
"Not yet. Mr. Laurence is going to help him."
"That won't last long. James Laurence is a crotchety old fellow and not to be depended on. So you intend to marry a man without money, position, or business, and go on working harder than you do now, when you might be comfortable all your days by minding me and doing better? I thought you had more sense, Meg."
"I couldn't do better if I waited half my life! John is good and wise, he's got heaps of talent, he's willing to work and sure to get on, he's so energetic and brave. Everyone likes and respects him, and I'm proud to think he cares for me, though I'm so poor and young and silly," said Meg, looking prettier than ever in her earnestness.
"He knows you have got rich relations, child. That's the secret of his liking, I suspect."
"Aunt March, how dare you say such a thing? John is above such meanness, and I won't listen to you a minute if you talk so," cried Meg indignantly, forgetting everything but the injustice of the old lady's suspicions. "My John wouldn't marry for money, any more than I would. We are willing to work and we mean to wait. I'm not afraid of being poor, for I've been happy so far, and I know I shall be with him because he loves me, and I..."
Meg stopped there, remembering all of a sudden that she hadn't made up her mind, that she had told `her John' to go away, and that he might be overhearing her inconsistent remarks.
Aunt March was very angry, for she had set her heart on having her pretty niece make a fine match, and something in the girl's happy young face made the lonely old woman feel both sad and sour.
"Well, I wash my hands of the whole affair! You are a willful child, and you've lost more than you know by this piece of folly. No, I won't stop. I'm disappointed in you, and haven't spirits to see your father now. Don't expect anything from me when you are married. Your Mr. Book's friends must take care of you. I'm done with you forever."
And slamming the door in Meg's face, Aunt March drove off in high dudgeon. She seemed to take all the girl's courage with her, for when left alone, Meg stood for a moment, undecided whether to laugh or cry. Before she could make up her mind, she was taken possession of by Mr. Brooke, who said all in one breath, "I couldn't help hearing, Meg. Thank you for defending me, and Aunt March for proving that you do care for me a little bit."
"I didn't know how much till she abused you," began Meg.
"And I needn't go away, but my stay and be happy, may I, dear?"
Here was another fine chance to make the crushing speech and the stately exit, but Meg never thought of doing either, and disgraced herself forever in Jo's eyes by meekly whispering, "Yes, John," and hiding her face on Mr. Brooke's waistcoat.
Fifteen minutes after Aunt March's departure, Jo came softly downstairs, paused an instant at the parlor door, and hearing no sound within, nodded and smiled with a satisfied expression, saying to herself, "She has seen him away as we planned, and that affair is settled. I'll go and hear the fun, and have a good laugh over it."
But poor Jo never got her laugh, for she was transfixed upon the threshold by a spectacle which held her there, staring with her mouth nearly as wide open as her eyes. Going in to exult over a fallen enemy and to praise a strong-minded sister for the banishment of an objectionable lover, it certainly was a shock to behold the aforesaid enemy serenely sitting on the sofa, with thestrongminded sister enthroned upon his knee and wearing an expression of the most abject submission. Jo gave a sort of gasp, as if a cold shower bath had suddenly fallen upon her, for such an unexpected turning of the tables actually took her breath away. At the odd sound the lovers turned and saw her. Meg jumped up, looking both proud and shy, but `that man', as Jo called him, actually laughed and said coolly, as he kissed the astonished newcomer, "Sister Jo, congratulate us!"
That was adding insult to injury, it was altogether too much, and making some wild demonstration with her hands, Jo vanished without a word. Rushing upstairs, she startled the invalids by exclaiming tragically as she burst into the room, "Oh, do somebody go down quick! John Brooke is acting dreadfully, and Meg likes it!"
Mr. and Mrs. March left the room with speed, and casting herself upon the be, Jo cried and scolded tempestuously as she told the awful news to Beth and Amy. The little girls, however, considered it a most agreeable and interesting event, and Jo got little comfort from them, so she went up to her refuge in the garret, and confided her troubles to the rats.
Nobody ever knew what went on in the parlor that afternoon, but a great deal of talking was done, and quiet Mr. Brooke astonished his friends by the eloquence and spirit with which he pleaded his suit, told his plans, and persuaded them to arrange everything just as he wanted it.
The tea bell rang before he had finished describing the paradise which he meant to earn for Meg, and he proudly took her in to supper, both looking so happy that Jo hadn't the heart to be jealous or dismal. Amy was very much impressed by John's devotion and Meg's dignity, Beth beamed at them from a distance, while Mr. and Mrs. March surveyed the young couple with such tender satisfaction that it was perfectly evident Aunt March was right in calling them as `unworldly as a pair of babies'. No one ate much, but everyone looked very happy, and the old room seemed to brighten up amazingly when the first romance of the family began there.
"You can't say nothing pleasant ever happens now, can you, Meg?" said Amy, trying to decide how she would group the lovers in a sketch she was planning to make. "No, I'm sure I can't. How much has happened since I said that! It seems a year ago," answered Meg, who was in a blissful dream lifted far above such common things as bread and butter.
"The joys come close upon the sorrows this time, and I rather think the changes have begun," said Mrs. March. "In most families there comes, now and then, a year full of events. This has been such a one, but it ends well, after all."
"Hope the next will end better," muttered Jo, who found it very hard to see Meg absorbed in a stranger before her face, for Jo loved a few persons very dearly and dreaded to have their affection lost or lessened in any way. "I hope the third year from this will end better. I mean it shall, if I live to work out my plans," said Mr. Brooke, smiling at Meg, as if everything had become possible to him now.
"Doesn't it seem very long to wait?" asked Amy, who was in a hurry for the wedding.
"I've got so much to learn before I shall be ready, it seems a short time to me," answered Meg, with a sweet gravity in her face never seen there before.
"You have only to wait, I am to do the work," said John beginning his labors by picking up Meg's napkin, with an expression which caused Jo to shake her head, and then say to herself with an air of relief as the front door banged, "Here comes Laurie. Now we shall have some sensible conversation."
But Jo was mistaken, for Laurie came prancing in, overflowing with good spirits, bearing a great bridal-looking bouquet for `Mrs. John Brooke', and evidently laboring under the delusion that the whole affair had been brought about by his excellent management.
"I knew Brooke would have it all his own way, he always does, for when he makes up his mind to accomplish anything, it's done though the sky falls," said Laurie, when he had presented his offering and his congratulations.
"Much obliged for that recommendation. I take it as a good omen for the future and invite you to my wedding on the spot," answered Mr. Brooke, who felt at peace with all mankind, even his mischievous pupil.
"I'll come if I'm at the ens of the earth, for the sight of Jo's face alone on that occasion would be worth a long journey. You don't look festive, ma'am, what's the matter?" asked Laurie, following her into a corner of the parlor, whither all had adjourned to greet Mr. Laurence.
"I don't approve of the match, but I've made up my mind to bear it, and shall not say a word against it," said Jo solemnly. "You can't know how hard it is for me to give up Meg," she continued with a little quiver in her voice. "You don't give her up. You only go halves," said Laurie consolingly.
"It can never be the same again. I've lost my dearest friend," sighed Jo.
"You've got me, anyhow. I'm not good for much, I know, but I'll stand by you, Jo, all the days of my life. Upon my word I will!" And Laurie meant what he said.
"I know you will, and I'm ever so much obliged. You are always a great comfort to me, Teddy," returned Jo, gratefully shaking hands. "Well, now, don't be dismal, there's a good fellow. It's all right you see. Meg is happy, Brooke will fly round and get settled immediately, Grandpa will attend to him, and it will be very jolly to see Meg in her own little house. We'll have capital times after she is gone, for I shall be through college before long, and then we'll go abroad on some nice trip or other. Wouldn't that console you?"
"I rather think it would, but there's no knowing what may happen in three years," said Jo thoughtfully.
"That's true. Don't you wish you could take a look forward and wee where we shall all be then? I do," returned Laurie.
"I think not, for I might see something sad, and everyone looks so happy now, I don't believe they could be much improved." And Jo's eyes went slowly round the room, brightening as they looked, for the prospect was a pleasant one.
Father and Mother sat together, quietly reliving the first chapter of the romance which for them began some twenty years ago. Amy was drawing the lovers, who sat apart in a beautiful world of their own, the light of which touched their faces with a grace the little artist could not copy. Beth lay on her sofa, talking cheerily with her old friend, who held her little hand as if he felt that it possessed the power to lead him along the peaceful way she walked. Jo lounged in her favorite low seat, with the grave quiet look which best became her, and Laurie, leaning on the back of her chair, his chin on a level with her curly head, smiled with his friendliest aspect, and nodded at her in the long glass which reflected them both.
So the curtain falls upon Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy. Whether it ever rises again, depends upon the reception giveN the first act of the domestic drama called LITTLE WOMEN.

第二十三章马奇婶婶解决问题

　　第二天母亲和女儿们围着马奇先生转来转去，正如蜜蜂围着它们的蜂后转一样，她们把一切置诸脑后，只顾侍候这位新病人，看着他，听他说话，把个马奇先生弄得差点招架不住了。他靠在贝思沙发旁边的一张大椅子上，另外三个女儿围坐身边，罕娜不时探头进来，"偷偷看一眼这位好人"，此时此刻，一切都似乎达到了完美的境地。但空气中又似乎有点什么不对劲儿，除了两个妹妹外，大家都感觉到了，只是都不说出来。马奇先生和太太不时看一眼梅格，然后忧心忡忡地互相交换一个眼色。乔有时突然变得十分严肃，大家甚至看到她对布鲁克先生遗落在大厅里的雨伞晃起拳头；梅格像失去了魂儿，腼腆不安，沉默寡言，一听到门铃响便心惊肉跳，一听到约翰的名字便脸红耳热；艾美说："每个人都似乎在等待什么，显得心神不定，这就奇怪了，因为爸爸已经平安回来了呀。"贝思则天真地猜疑为何邻居们不像以前一样往这边跑。
　　下午劳里来了，看到梅格坐在窗边，仿佛一下子心血来潮，单膝跪在雪地上，捶胸扯发，还哀求地十指交叉握紧两手，犹如乞讨什么恩典；梅格叫他放尊重一点，命他走开，他又用自己的手帕绞出几滴假泪，然后绕着墙角摇摇晃晃而去，仿佛伤心欲绝。
　　"那傻子是什么意思？"梅格故作莫明其妙地笑着问。
　　"他在向你示范你的约翰日后会怎么做。感人吧，哼！"乔奚落道。
　　"别说我的约翰，这不合适，也并非事实。"但梅格的声音却恋恋不舍地在这四个字上头慢慢拖过，似在品尝其中滋味。"别烦我了，乔，我跟你说过我对他并没有特别的意思，这事也没什么可说的，我们还像以前一样友好来往。""我们办不到，因为已经说出来了，劳里的恶作剧已毁了你在我心中的形象。我看出来了，妈妈也一样；你完完全全换了一个人，似乎离我那么遥远。我不想烦你，而且会像一个男子汉一样承受此事，但我很想它有个了断。我痛恨等待，所以如果你有意的话，就请快刀斩乱麻，"乔没好气地说。
　　"除非他开口，否则我没法说或者做什么，但他不会说的，因为爸爸说我还太年轻，"梅格说，一面低着头做活，脸上露出一丝异样的微笑，表明在这一点上他不很赞同父亲的意见。
　　"如果他真的开口了，你就不知道如何是好，只会哭鼻子，脸红，让他得偿所愿，而不是明智、坚决地说一声'不'。""我可不是你想象的那么傻，那么软弱。我知道该说什么，因为我已经计划好了，免得措手不及；谁也不知道会发生什么事，我希望自己有备无患。"看到梅格不知不觉摆出一副煞有介事的神气，脸颊上两朵美丽的红晕变幻不定，十分动人，乔禁不住微笑起来。
　　"能告诉我你会说什么吗？"乔问得尊重些了。
　　"当然能，你也十六岁了，足可成为我的知己，再说我的经验日后或许会对你在这种事情上有好处。""不打算涉足；看着别人家谈情说爱倒是挺有趣儿的，但如果换了是自己，我就一定觉得愚不可及，"乔说。想到这，她不觉心头一惊。
　　"我不这样看，如果你很喜欢一个人，而他也喜欢你的话。"梅格仿佛自言自语，眼光向外面一条小巷望去。她常常看到恋人们在夏日的黄昏下在这条小巷双双散步。
　　"我想你是准备把这番话告诉那个男人，"乔说，不客气地打断她姐姐的痴想。
　　"哦，我只会十分沉着十分干脆地说：'谢谢你，布鲁克先生，你的心意我领了，但我和爸爸都认为我还太年轻，暂且不宜订约，此事请不必再提，我们仍如以前一样做朋友。'""哼！说得真够气派！我不信你会这样说，即使说了他也不会甘心。如果他像小说里头那些遭到拒绝的年青人一样纠缠不休，你就会答应他，而不愿伤害他的感情。""不，我不会。我会告诉他我主意已定，然后很有尊严地走出房间。"梅格说着站起来，正准备排练那尊严退出的一幕，突然客厅里传来一阵脚步声，她吓得飞身走回座位，赶紧拿起针线活，飞快地缝起来，仿佛她的生命全系于那一针一线之间。
　　乔见状忍着笑，这时有人轻轻敲了一下门，她没好气地打开门，板着一张脸孔，令人望而生畏。
　　"下午好。我来拿我的雨伞--顺便，看看你爸爸今天怎么样，"布鲁克先生说。看到姐妹二人神色异常，他感到有点诧异。
　　"很好，他在搁物架上，我去找他，告诉它你来了。"乔回答时把父亲和雨伞混为一谈，然后溜出房间，给梅格一个显示尊严的说话机会。但她的身影刚一消失，梅格便侧身向门口行去，吞吞吐吐地说--"妈妈一定很高兴见你。请坐下，我去叫她。""别走。你是不是怕我，玛格丽特？"布鲁克先生显得十分沮丧，梅格以为自己干了什么极端无礼粗鲁的事情。他以前从来没叫过她玛格丽特，现在这话从他口里发出，她不知为何脸涨得红至发根。她急于表明自己的善意和轻松心情，于是做了个信任的姿势，伸出一只手来，感激地说--"你对爸爸这么好，我怎么会怕你呢？感谢你还不及呢。""要不要我告诉你怎样谢？"布鲁克先生问道，双手紧紧握住那只小手，低头望着梅格，棕色的眼睛流露出无限爱意。
　　梅格心头怦怦乱跳，既想跑开，又想停下细听。
　　"噢，不，请不要这样--还是别说好，"她边说边试图把手抽回，脸上忍不住流露出惊慌的神色。
　　"我不会烦你，我只想知道我在你心里头是不是有一丁点儿的位置，梅格。我是这么爱你，亲爱的，"布鲁克先生温柔地说。
　　这本来到了镇静自若地说那番漂亮话的时候了，但梅格却没有说；她一个字也记不起来了，只是低垂着头，答："我不知道。"声音又轻又软，约翰得弯下腰来才勉强听到这句傻气的回答。
　　他似乎一点也不嫌麻烦，只见他自顾自笑起来，仿佛畅心满意，感激地握紧那只胖胖的小手，诚恳地劝说道："你能试着弄清楚吗？我很想知道，不弄清楚我最终是否能得偿所愿，我就连工作也没有心情。""我年龄尚小，"梅格颤抖着声音说，她不明白自己为何抖个不停，但心中颇感到高兴。
　　"我可以等，在此期间，你可以学着喜欢我。这门课是否太难，亲爱的？""如果我想学就不难，不过--""那就学吧，梅格。我乐意教，这可比德语容易，"约翰打断她，把她另一只手也握住，这样她的脸便无处可藏，他可以弯下腰来细看一番了。
　　他说得情真意切，但梅格含羞偷偷看他一眼，却看到他一双含情脉脉的眼睛藏着喜意，嘴角挂着一丝成功在握的微笑，十分得意，心中不觉着了恼。此时安妮·莫法特教给她的愚蠢的卖俏邀宠之道，闯进了她的脑海，一股潜藏于小妇人内心深处的支配欲在心中突然升起，令她失去自制。由于兴奋激动，她头昏眼花，手足无措，一时冲动，竟把双手抽出，怒声说道："我不想学。请走开。别烦我！"可怜的布鲁克先生神色大变，仿佛他那漂亮的空中楼阁在身边轰然倒落。他以前从来没见过梅格发这样的大火，心中不觉糊涂起来。
　　"你真的这样想？"他焦急地问，在后面跟着她走。
　　"一点不假。我不想为这种事情烦恼。爸爸说我不必，这太早了，我也宁可不去想它。""你可以慢慢改变主意吗？我愿意默默等待，直到你有更多的时间。不要捉弄我，梅格。我想你不是这种人。""对我你最好什么也别想，"梅格说。一句话既逞了自己的威风，又使得情人心如火煎，她心中升起一股淘气的快意。
　　他脸色立时变得阴沉煞白，神态与她所崇拜的小说中的男主人公大有相近之处，但他没有像他们那样拍额头，或迈着沉重的脚步在屋子里乱转，只是呆呆站在那儿，温情脉脉地痴痴看着她，她心里不由得软了下来。如果不是马奇婶婶在这有趣的当儿一瘸一拐地走进来，接下来会发生何事就不得而知了。
　　老太太在户外散步时碰到了劳里，听说马奇先生已经到家，止不住就要见见自己的侄儿，于是立即驱车而至。此时一家人正在后屋忙乱，她便静静走入，意图给他们一个意外惊喜。她果然令二人大吃一惊：梅格吓得魂飞魄散，如同撞着了鬼，布鲁克先生身子一闪溜入书房。
　　"啊哟，出了什么事？"老太太早看到了那位面色灰白的年青人。她把手中的藤杖一叩，望着脸红耳赤的梅格叫道。
　　"他是爸爸的朋友。你让我吓了一跳！"梅格结结巴巴地说，自知这回又有一番教诲好听了。
　　"显而易见，"马奇婶婶回答，一面坐下，"但你爸爸的朋友说了什么，叫你脸上像搽了生姜一样？一定有什么事情瞒着我，还是老实说出来吧。"又一叩手杖。
　　"我们只是闲谈而已。布鲁克先生来拿自己的雨伞，"梅格开口说，只盼望布鲁克先生和雨伞已双双安全撤出屋外。
　　"布鲁克？那孩子的家庭教师？啊！我明白了。这事我全知道。乔一次在读你爸爸的信时说漏了嘴，我让她说出来。你还不至于应承了他吧，孩子？"马奇婶婶愤愤地叫道。
　　"嘘！他会听到的。我去叫妈妈吧？"梅格说，显得惊慌失措。
　　"等等。我有话要跟你说，我必须立即把话说明。告诉我，你是不是想嫁给这个傻瓜？如果你这样做，我一分钱也不会留给你。记着这话，做个明事理的姑娘，"老太太一字一句地说。
　　马奇婶婶可谓专擅于撩起最温柔儒雅的人的逆反心理，而且乐在其中。我们大多数人骨子里头都有一种刚愎任性的意气，尤其是在少不更事和坠入爱河之时。假若马奇婶婶劝梅格接受约翰·布鲁克，她大有可能说一声"不"；但她却颐指迫使地命她不要喜欢他，她于是当即决定要反其道而行之。
　　她本来早有此意，再经马奇婶婶这一激，下此决心便十分容易。在莫名的激动亢奋之下，梅格以非同寻常的脾气一口回绝了老太太。
　　"我愿意嫁给谁就嫁给谁，马奇太太，而你喜欢把钱留给哪一个我们也悉听尊便，"她点着头坚决地说。
　　"好有骨气！你就这样对待我的忠告吗，小姐？等你在草棚茅舍里头做你的爱情梦去吧，过不多久你就会尝到失败的滋味，到那一天你一定后悔莫及。""但有些嫁入豪门的人失败得更惨，"梅格反击。
　　马奇婶婶从未见过这个姑娘如此动气，于是戴上眼镜把她仔细审视一番。梅格此时几乎不知道自己是谁，只感到勇气十足，毫无羁束--十分高兴能为约翰说话并维护自己爱他的权利，如果她愿意。马奇婶婶发现自己开错了头，寻思了少顷，决定再开一次，于是尽量温和地说："嗳，梅格，好孩子，懂事，听我的话。我是一片好心，不希望你一开始便走错路，因此一生尽毁。你应该寻头好亲，帮补家庭；你有责任嫁一个有钱人，这话你一定要记祝""爸爸妈妈可不这么看，虽然约翰穷，他们也一样喜欢他。""你的父母，好孩子，幼稚得跟两个婴儿一样，根本不懂世故。""我为此感到高兴，"梅格坚定不移地大声说。
　　马奇婶婶并不在意，继续说教。"这妻子不但穷，也没有什么有钱的亲戚，对吗？""对。但他有很多热心的朋友。""你不能靠朋友生活，有事求他们时你就知道他们会变得多么冷淡。他没有什么生意吧？""还没有。劳伦斯先生准备帮助他。""这不会持久。詹姆士·劳伦斯是个怪老头，靠不祝这么说来你是打算嫁给一个没有地位、没有生意的穷小子，干比现在更苦的活儿，而不愿听我一句话，嫁头好亲，过一辈子安乐日子啰？我以为你更有头脑呢，梅格。""即使我等上半生也不会做得比这更好！约翰善良聪明，才华横溢，他愿意工作，也一定会做出成绩，他是这样勇敢，这样充满活力。大家都喜欢地，尊敬他。他喜欢我，不计较我家道清贫、年幼无知，我感到很自豪，"梅格说，神情因激动而显得异常美丽。
　　"他知道你的亲戚有钱，孩子；我猜这就是他喜欢你的原因。""马奇婶婶，你怎么能这样说话？约翰不是这种卑鄙小人，如果你这样说下去，我一分钟都不要再听，"梅格气得叫起来，对老太太的不公正猜测感到十分愤慨，"我不会为钱而嫁，我的约翰更不会为钱而娶。我们愿意自食其力，也打算等待。我不怕穷，因为我一直都很快乐。我知道我会跟他在一起，因为他爱我，而我也--"说到此处梅格止住了，突然想起自己还没有打定主意，而且已经叫"她的约翰"走开，或许他这会正在偷听她这番自相矛盾的话呢。
　　马奇婶婶勃然大怒。她原来一心想让她的漂亮侄女寻一头上好姻缘，却不料遭此辜负。看到姑娘那张幸福洋溢、充满青春魅力的面孔，孤独的老太太心中不禁升起一股又苦又酸的滋味。
　　"很好，这事我从此放开不理！你是个一意孤行的孩子，这番傻话将令你蒙受重大损失。不，我还有话说。我对你感到万分失望，现在也没有心情见你父亲了。你结婚时别指望我给你一分钱；等你那位布鲁克先生的朋友们来照顾你吧。我俩从今以后一刀两断。"马奇婶婶当着梅格的面把门砰地一关，怒气冲冲地登上车，绝尘而去。她似乎把姑娘的勇气也全带走了。她一走，梅格便一个人站着发呆，不知是笑好还是哭好。她还没来得及理清头绪，便被布鲁克先生一把抱住，只听他一口气说道："我忍不住留下来偷听，梅格。感谢你这样维护我，也感谢马奇婶婶证明了你心里确实有我。""直到她诋毁你时我才知道自己是多么在乎，"梅格说。
　　"那我不用走开了，可以高高兴兴留下来，是吗，亲爱的？"这本来又是一个发表那篇决定性的讲话，然后堂而皇之地退下的大好机会，但梅格一点也没有这个意思，反而驯服地低声说："是，约翰。"并把脸埋在布鲁克先生的马甲上，使自己在乔面前永远抬不起头来。
　　在马奇婶婶离去十五分钟之后，乔轻轻走下楼梯，在大厅门口稍立片刻，听到里头悄然无声，点头满意而笑，自语道："她已按计划把他打发走了，此事已经了断。让我去听听这个趣话儿，痛痛快快笑一常"不过可怜的乔永远也笑不出来，她刚踏入门口便吓得呆若木鸡，身子牢牢钉在门坎上，嘴巴张得几乎跟圆瞪着的眼睛一样大。只见布鲁克先生沉着地坐在沙发上，而意志坚强的姐姐则高高坐在他的膝上，脸上挂着一副天底下最卑下的百依百顺的神情。她原要进去为击退了敌人而狂欢一番，称赞姐姐意志坚强，终将讨厌的情人逐出门外，不料却见到这番景象，这一惊非同小可。乔猛吸了一口冷气，犹如一盆冷水兜头泼下--绝没料到情形变得如此恶劣，不禁大惊失色。
　　听到响声，这对恋人回过头来，看到了她。梅格跳起来，神情既骄傲又腼腆，但"那个男人"，如乔所称，竟自笑起来，吻了吻惊得目噔口呆的乔，冷静地说道："乔妹妹，祝贺我们吧！"这无异于伤害之外又加侮辱--这口气如何咽得下去--乔怒不可遏，两手狠狠一甩，一声不发便冲了出去。她跑上楼，一头闯进房间，痛心疾首地大叫："啊，你们快下楼；约翰·布鲁克正在干不要脸的事，而梅格竟然喜欢！"把两个病人吓得大惊失色。
　　马奇先生夫妇赶紧跑出房间；乔一头把自己摔在床上，一面哭一面骂不绝口，又把这个可怕的消息告诉贝思、艾美。两位小姑娘却觉得这是一件顶顶愉快顶顶有趣的盛事，乔心里方好受了一点，这才爬起身，躲到阁楼上的避难所中，把万般烦恼向她的老鼠们倾诉。
　　没有人知道那天下午客厅里发生了什么事；但大家谈了许多。一向沉默寡言的布鲁克先生滔滔不绝，他向梅格求婚，介绍自己的计划，又说服大家按他的想法安排一切事情，起能言善辩的口才及穷追不舍的精神令大家刮目相看。
　　他正在描绘自己打算为梅格创造的乐园，用茶的铃声响了。他骄傲地携梅格入席，两人全都喜形于色，乔见状早已无心妒忌或苦闷。艾美对约翰的忠心耿耿和梅格的端庄高贵印象尤深，贝思远远望着他们微笑致意，而马奇先生夫妇万分怜爱地望着这对年轻人，显得十分满意，可见马奇婶婶所言不差，他们确实"像两个不懂世故的婴儿一样"。大家吃得不多，但显得喜气洋洋，旧房间也仿佛由于家里发生了第一桩喜事而变得不可思议地亮堂起来。
　　"现在你不能说从来没有一件遂心的事情了吧，梅格？"艾美说，一边构思如何把这对恋人双双画进画中。
　　"对，不能这样说。自打我说这话来发生了多少事情！那是一年前的事了吧，"梅格回答。她此刻正在做着远远超越了面包牛油这类俗物的美梦。
　　"在我们经历了种种悲伤之后，现在欢乐接踵而来，我倒希望从此出现转机，"马奇太太说，"不少家庭有时会遇上多事之秋；这一年便发生了许多事情，但无论怎么说，结局总算不错。""但愿来年更好，"乔咕哝道。看到梅格仿佛被一个陌生人摄掉了魂魄，她心里酸溜溜的。乔对一些人爱之甚深，唯恐会失去他们。
　　"我希望从今开始的第三年会有一个更好的结局。我对这有信心，只要我努力实施自己的计划，"布鲁克先生笑微微地望着梅格说，仿佛现在对于他来说一切都成为可能。
　　"等三年是不是太久了？"艾美问，恨不得婚礼立即举行。
　　"我还有许多东西要学，还嫌时间不够用呢，"梅格回答，甜甜的脸上露出一种前所未有的严肃劲头。
　　"你只需等着，活由我来干，"约翰边说边付诸行动，捡起梅格的餐巾，脸上的表情令乔直摇脑袋。这时前门砰地响了一声，乔松了一口气，自忖道："劳里来了。我们终于可以谈点正经事了。"但乔想错了。只见劳里兴冲冲地雀跃而入，手里捧着一大束似模似样的"喜花"，送给"约翰·布鲁克太太"，俨然把自己当成了这桩好事的促成者。
　　"我早就知道布鲁克一定马到功成，他一向如此；只要他下了决心要做一件事，即使天塌下来也能做好，"劳里把花献上，又祝贺道。
　　"承蒙夸奖，不胜感激。我把这话当作一个好兆头，这就邀请你参加我的婚礼，"布鲁克先生答。他待人一向平和，即使对自己淘气捣蛋的学生也不例外。
　　"我即使远在天边也要赶回来参加，单单乔那天的脸色就值得我回来一看了。你好像不大高兴呢，小姐。怎么回事？"劳里问，一面跟乔随众人一起来到客厅一角，迎接刚刚进来的劳伦斯先生。
　　"我不赞成这头姻缘，但我已决定把它忍下来，一句坏话也不说，"乔严肃地说。"你不会明白我失去梅格有多么难受，"她接着说，声音微微颤抖。
　　"你并不是失去她，只是与人平分而已，"劳里安慰道。
　　"再也不会一样。我失去了至亲至爱的朋友，"乔叹息道。
　　"但你有我呢。我虽不配，但我一定会和你站在一起的，我知道，乔，一生一世。一定！我发誓！"劳里此话绝非戏言。
　　"我知道你一定会的，你待我真好。你总是给我带来莫大的安慰，特迪，"乔答道，感激地握着劳里的手。
　　"嗳，好了，别愁眉苦脸啦，这就对了。这事并没有什么不好，你瞧。梅格感到幸福，布鲁克很快就能成家立业。爷爷会帮助他。看到梅格在自己的小屋里该是多么令人羡慕。她走后我们会过得十分开心，因为我很快就读完大学，那时我们便结伴到国外好好游览一下。这样你心里好受了吧？""但愿能够如此。但谁知道这三年里会发生什么事情，"乔心事重重地说。
　　"那倒是事实。但难道你不愿意向前看，想象一下我们将来怎么样吗？我可愿意，"劳里回答。
　　"不看也罢，因为我会看到一些伤心事。现在大家都这么高兴，我想他们将来也不会再高兴到哪里去，"乔说着把房间慢慢扫视一遍，眼睛随之一亮，因为她看到了一个令人愉快的景象。
　　父亲和母亲坐在一起，悄悄重温着他们约二十年前的初恋情节。艾美正把一对恋人画下来，他们独自坐在一边，如痴如醉，爱情在他们的验庞上轻轻抹上了一层光辉，给他们蒙上一种描画不出来的美。贝思躺在沙发上，和她的老朋友劳伦斯先生愉快地交谈，老人执着她的手，仿佛觉得它有一种力量，可以领着他走过她所走的宁静的道路。乔靠在自己最喜欢的低椅上，沉静深思，别具一种风韵，劳里倚在她的椅背，下巴贴在她的鬈发上面，在映着两人形容的穿衣镜里头向她点头由衷而笑。
　　写到此处，帘幕落下，有关梅格、乔、贝思和艾美的故事暂告一个段落。是否再次起幕全看读者们是否接受这部家庭故事剧《小妇人》的第一部。

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一二三四五六七~~~

举报只看该作者 25楼发表于: 2013-10-25 0

PART TWO

Chapter One Twenty-four Gossip

In order that we may start afresh and go to Meg's wedding with free minds, it will be well to begin with a little gossip about the Marches. And here let me premise that if any of the elders think there is too much `lovering' in the story, as I fear they may (I'm not afraid the young folks will make that objection), I can only say with Mrs. March, "What can you expect when I have four gay girls in the house, and a dashing young neighbor over the way?"
The three years that have passed have brought but few changes to the quiet family. The war is over, and Mr. March safely at home, busy with his books and the small parish which found in him a minister by nature as by grace, a quiet, studious man, rich in the wisdom that is better than learning, the charity which calls all mankind `brother', the piety that blossoms into character, making it august and lovely.
These attributes, in spite of poverty and the strict integrity which shut him out from the more worldly successes, attracted to him many admirable persons, as naturally as sweet herbs draw bees, and as naturally he gave them the honey into which fifty years of hard experience had distilled no bitter drop. Earnest young men found the gray-headed scholar as young at heart as they, thoughtful or troubled women instinctively brought their doubts to him, sure of finding the gentlest sympathy, the wisest counsel. Sinners told their sins to the pure-hearted old man and were both rebuked and saved. Gifted men found a companion in him. Ambitious men caught glimpses of nobler ambitions than their own, and even worldlings confessed that his beliefs were beautiful and true, although `they wouldn't pay'.
To outsiders the five energetic women seemed to rule the house, and so they did in many things, but the quiet scholar, sitting among his books, was still the head of the family, the household conscience, anchor, and comforter, for to him the busy, anxious women always turned in troublous times, finding him, in the truest sense of those sacred words, husband and father.
The girls gave their hearts into their mother's keeping, their souls into their father's, and to both parents, who lived and labored so faithfully for them, they gave a love that grew with their growth and bound them tenderly together by the sweetest tie which blesses life and outlives death.
Mrs. March is as brisk and cheery, though rather grayer, than when we saw her last, and just now so absorbed in Meg's affairs that the hospitals and homes still full of wounded `boys' and soldiers' widows, decidedly miss the motherly missionary's visits.
John Brooke did his duty manfully for a year, got wounded, was sent home, and not allowed to return. He received no stars or bars, but he deserved them, for he cheerfully risked all he had, and life and love are very precious when both are in full bloom. Perfectly resigned to his discharge, he devoted himself to getting well, preparing for business, and earning a home for Meg. With the good sense and sturdy independence that characterized him, he refused Mr. Laurence's more generous offers, and accepted the place of bookkeeper, feeling better satisfied to begin with an honestly earned salary than by running any risks with borrowed money.
Meg had spent the time in working as well as waiting, growing womanly in character, wise in housewifely arts, and prettier than ever, for love is a great beautifier. She had her girlish ambitions and hopes, and felt some disappointment at the humble way in which the new life must begin. Ned Moffat had just married Sallie Gardiner, and Meg couldn't help contrasting their fine house and carriage, many gifts, and splendid outfit with her own, and secretly wishing she could have the same. But somehow envy and discontent soon vanished when she thought of all the patient love and labor John had put into the little home awaiting her, and when they sat together in the twilight, talking over their small plans, the future always grew so beautiful and bright that she forgot Sallie's splendor and felt herself the richest, happiest girl in Christendom.
Jo never went back to Aunt March, for the old lady took such a fancy to AMy that she bribed her with the offer of drawing lessons from one of the best teachers going, and for the sake of this advantage, Amy would have served a far harder mistress. So she gave her mornings to duty, her afternoons to pleasure, and prospered finely. Jo meantime devoted herself to literature and Beth, who remained delicate long after the fever was a thing of the past. Not an invalid exactly, but never again the rosy, healthy creature she had been, yet always hopeful, happy, and serene, and busy with the quiet duties she loved, everyone's friend, and an angel in the house, long before those who loved her most had learned to know it.
As long as THE SPREAD EAGLE paid her a dollar a column for her `rubbish', as she called it, Jo felt herself a woman of means, and spun her little romances diligently. But great plans fermented in her busy brain and ambitious mind, and the old tin kitchen in the garret held a slowly increasing pile of blotted manuscript, which was one day to place the name of March upon the roll of fame.
Laurie, having dutifully gone to college to please his grandfather, was now getting through it in the easiest possible manner to please himself. A universal favorite, thanks to money, manners, much talent, and the kindest heart that ever got its owner into scrapes by trying to get other people out of them, he stood in great danger of being spoiled, and probably would have been, like many another promising boy, if he had not possessed a talisman against evil in the memory of the kind old man who was bound up in his success, the motherly friend who watched over him as if he were her son, and last, but not least by any means, the knowledge that four innocent girls loved, admired, and believed in him with all their hearts.
Being only `a glorious human boy', of course he frolicked and flirted, grew dandified, aquatic, sentimental, or gymnastic, as college fashions ordained, hazed and was hazed, talked slang, and more than once came perilously near suspension and expulsion. But as high spirits and the love of fun were the causes of these pranks, he always managed to save himself by frank confession, honorable atonement, or the irresistible power of persuasion which he possessed in perfection. In fact, he rather prided himself on his narrow escapes, and liked to thrill the girls with graphic accounts of his triumphs over wrathful tutors, dignified professors, and vanquished enemies. The `men of my class', were heroes in the eyes of the girls, who never wearied of the exploits of `our fellows', and were frequently allowed to bask in the smiles of these great creatures, when Laurie brought them home with him.
Amy especially enjoyed this high honor, and became quite a belle among them, for her ladyship early felt and learned to use the gift of fascination with which she was endowed. Meg was too much absorbed in her private and particular John to care for any other lords of creation, and Beth too shy to do more than peep at them and wonder how Amy dared to order them about so, but Jo felt quite in her own element, and found it very difficult to refrain from imitating the gentlemanly attitudes, phrases, and feats, which seemed more natural to her than the decorums prescribed for young ladies. They all liked Jo immensely, but never fell in love with her, though very few escaped without paying the tribute of a sentimental sigh or two at Amy's shrine. And speaking of sentiment brings us very naturally to the `Dovecote'.
That was the name of the little brown house Mr. Brooke had prepared for Meg's first home. Laurie had christened it, saying it was highly appropriate to the gentle lovers who `went on together like a pair of turtledoves, with first a bill and then a coo'. It was a tiny house, with a little garden behind and a lawn about as big as a pocket handkerchief in the front. Here Meg meant to have a fountain, shrubbery, and a profusion of lovely flowers, though just at present the fountain was represented by a weather-beaten urn, very like a dilapidated slopbowl, the shrubbery consisted of several young larches, undecided whether to live or die, and the profusion of flowers was merely hinted by regiments of sticks to show where seeds were planted. But inside, it was altogether charming, and the happy bride saw no fault from garret to cellar. To be sure, the hall was so narrow it was fortunate that they had no piano, for one never could have been got in whole, the dining room was so small that six people were a tight fit, and the kitchen stairs seemed built for the express purpose of precipitating both servants and china pell-mell into the coalbin. But once get used to these slight blemishes and nothing could be more complete, for good sense and good taste had presided over the furnishing, and the result was highly satisfactory. There were no marble-topped tables, long mirrors, or lace curtains in the little parlor, but simple furniture, plenty of books, a fine picture or two, a stand of flowers in the bay window, and, scattered all about, the pretty gifts which came from friendly hands and were the fairer for the loving messages they brought.
I don't think the Parian Psyche Laurie gave lost any of its beauty because John put up the bracket it stood upon, that any upholsterer could have draped the plain muslin curtains more gracefully than Amy's artistic hand, or that any store-room was ever better provided with good wishes, merry words, and happy hopes than that in which Jo and her mother put away Meg's few boxes, barrels, and bundles, and I am morally certain that the spandy new kitchen never could have looked so cozy and neat if Hannah had not arranged every pot and pan a dozen times over, and laid the fire all ready for lighting the minute `Mis. Brooke came home'. I also doubt if any young matron ever began life with so rich a supply of dusters, holders, and piece bags, for Beth made enough to last till the silver wedding came round, and invented three different kinds of dishcloths for the express service of the bridal china.
People who hire all these things done for them never know what they lose, for the homeliest tasks get beautified if loving hands do them, and Meg found so many proofs of this that everything in her small nest, from the kitchen roller to the silver vase on her parlor table, was eloquent of home love and tender forethought.
What happy times they had planning together, what solemn shopping excursions, what funny mistakes they made, and what shouts of laughter arose over Laurie's ridiculous bargains. In his love of jokes, this young gentleman, though nearly through college, was a much of a boy as ever. His last whim had been to bring with him on his weekly visits some new, useful, and ingenious article for the young housekeeper. Now a bag of remarkable clothespins, next, a wonderful nutmeg grater which fell to pieces at the first trial, a knife cleaner that spoiled all the knives, or a sweeper that picked the nap neatly off the carpet and left the dirt, labor-saving soap that took the skin off one's hands, infallible cements which stuck firmly to nothing but the fingers of the deluded buyer, and every kind of tinware, from a toy savings bank for odd pennies, to a wonderful boiler which would wash articles in its own steam with every prospect of exploding in the process.
In vain Meg begged him to stop. John laughed at him, and Jo called him `Mr. Toodles'. He was possessed with a mania for patronizing Yankee ingenuity, and seeing his friends fitly furnished forth. So each week beheld some fresh absurdity.
Everything was done at last, even to Amy's arranging different colored soaps to match the different colored rooms, and Beth's setting the table for the first meal.
"Are you satisfied? Does it seem like home, and do you feel as if you should be happy here?" asked Mrs. March, as she and her daughter went through the new kingdom arm in arm, for just then they seemed to cling together more tenderly than ever.
"Yes, Mother, perfectly satisfied, thanks to you all, and so happy that I can't talk about it," with a look that was far better than words.
"If she only had a servant or two it would be all right," said Amy, coming out of the parlor, where she had been trying to decide whether the bronze Mercury looked best on the whatnot or the mantlepiece.
"Mother and I have talked that over, and I have made up my mind to try her way first. There will be so little to do that with Lotty to run my errands and help me here and there, I shall only have enough work to keep me from getting lazy or homesick," answered Meg tranquilly.
"Sallie Moffat has four," began Amy.
"If Meg had four, the house wouldn't hold them, and master and missis would have to camp in the garden," broke in Jo, who, enveloped in a big blue pinafore, was giving the last polish to the door handles.
"Sallie isn't a poor man's wife, and many maids are in keeping with her fine establishment. Meg and John begin humbly, but I have a feeling that there will be quite as much happiness in the little house as in the big one. It's a great mistake for young girls like Meg to leave themselves nothing to do but dress, give orders, and gossip. When I was first married, I used to long for my new clothes to wear out or get torn, so that i might have the pleasure of mending them, for I got heartily sick of doing fancywork and tending my pocket handkerchief."
"Why didn't you go into the kitchen and make messes, as Sallie says she does to amuse herself, though they never turn out well and the servants laugh at her," said Meg.
"I did after a while, not to `mess' but to learn of Hannah how things should be done, that my servants need not laugh at me. It was play then, but there came a time when I was truly grateful that I not only possessed the will but the power to cook wholesome food for my little girls, and help myself when I could no longer afford to hire help. You begin at the other end, Meg, dear, but the lessons you learn now will be of use to you by-and-by when John is a richer man, for the mistress of a house, however splendid, should know how work ought to be done, if she wishes to be well and honestly served."
"Yes, Mother, I'm sure of that," said Meg, listening respectfully to the little lecture, for the best of women will hold forth upon the all absorbing subject of house keeping. "Do you know I like this room most of all in my baby house," added Meg, a minute after, as they went upstairs and she looked into her well-stored linen closet.
Beth was there, laying the snowy piles smoothly on the shelves and exulting over the goodly array. All three laughed as Meg spoke, for that linen closet was a joke. You see, having said that if Meg married `that Brooke' she shouldn't have a cent of her money, Aunt March was rather in a quandary when time had appeased her wrath and made her repent her vow. She never broke her word, and was much exercised in her mind how to get round it, and at last devised a plan whereby she could satisfy herself. Mrs. Carrol, Florence's mamma, was ordered to buy, have made, and marked a generous supply of house and table linen, and send it as her present, all of which was faithfully done, but the secret leaked out, and was greatly enjoyed by the family, for Aunt March tried to look utterly unconscious, and insisted that she could give nothing but the old-fashioned pearls long promised to the first bride.
"That's a housewifely taste which I am glad to see. I had a young friend who set up housekeeping with six sheets, but she had finger bowls for company and that satisfied her," said Mrs. March, patting the damask tablecloths, with a truly feminine appreciation of their fineness.
"I haven't a single finger bowl, but this is a setout that will last me all my days, Hannah says." And Meg looked quite contented, as well she might.
A tall, broad-shouldered young fellow, with a cropped head, a felt basin of a hat, and a flyaway coat, came tramping down the road at a great pace, walked over the low fence without stopping to open the gate, straight up to Mrs. March, with both hands out and a hearty . ..
"Here I am, Mother! Yes, it's all right."
The last words were in answer to the look the elder lady gave him, a kindly questioning look which the handsome eyes met so frankly that the little ceremony closed, as usual, with a motherly kiss.
"For Mrs. John Brooke, with the maker's congratulations and compliments. Bless you, Beth! What a refreshing spectacle you are, Jo. Amy, you are getting altogether too handsome for a single lady."
As Laurie spoke, he delivered a brown paper parcel to Meg, pilled Beth's hair ribbon, stared at Jo's bib pinafore, and fell into an attitude of mock rapture before Amy, then shook hands all round, and everyone began to talk.
"Where is John?" asked Meg anxiously.
"Stopped to get the license for tomorrow, ma'am."
"Which side won the last match, Teddy?" inquired Jo, who persisted in feeling an interest in manly sports despite her nineteen years.
"Ours, of course. Wish you'd been there to see."
"How is the lovely Miss Randal?" asked Amy with a significant smile.
"More cruel than ever. Don't you see how I'm pining away?" And Laurie gave his broad chest a sounding slap and heaved a melodramatic sigh.
"What's the last joke? Undo the bundle and see, Meg," said Beth, eying the knobby parcel with curiosity.
"It's a useful thing to have in the house in case of fire or thieves," observed Laurie, as a watchman's rattle appeared, amid the laughter of the girls.
"Any time when John is away and you get frightened, Mrs. Meg, just swing that out of the front window, and it will rouse the neighborhood in a jiffy. Nice thing, isn't it?" And Laurie gave them a sample of its powers that made them cover up their ears.
"There's gratitude for you! And speaking of gratitude reminds me to mention that you may thank Hannah for saving your wedding cake from destruction. I saw it going into your house as I came by, and if she hadn't defended it manfully I'd have had a pick at it, for it looked like a remarkably plummy one."
"I wonder if you will ever grow up, Laurie," said Meg in a matronly tone.
"I'm doing my best, ma'am, but can't get much higher, I'm afraid, as six feet is about all men can do in these degenerate days," responded the young gentleman, whose head was about level with the little chandelier.
"I suppose it would be profanation to eat anything in this spick-and-span bower, so as I'm tremendously hungry, I propose an adjournment," he added presently.
"Mother and I are going to wait for John. There are some last things to settle," said Meg, bustling away.
"Beth and I are going over to Kitty Bryant's to get more flowers for tomorrow," added Amy, tying a picturesque hat over her picturesque curls, and enjoying the effect as much as anybody.
"Come, Jo, don't desert a fellow. I'm in such a state of exhaustion I can't get home without help. Don't take off your apron, whatever you do, it's peculiarly becoming," said Laurie, as Jo bestowed his especial aversion in her capacious pocket and offered her arm to support his feeble steps.
"Now, Teddy, I want to talk seriously to you about tomorrow," began Jo, as they strolled away together. "You must promise to behave well, and not cut up any pranks, and spoil our plans."
"Not a prank."
"And don't say funny things when we ought to be sober."
"I never do. You are the one for that."
"And I implore you not to look at me during the ceremony. I shall certainly laugh if you do."
"You won't see me, you'll be crying so hard that the thick fog round you will obscure the prospect."
"I never cry unless for some great affliction."
"Such as fellows going to college, hey?" cut in Laurie, with suggestive laugh.
"Don't be a peacock. I only moaned a trifle to keep the girls company."
"Exactly. I say, Jo, how is Grandpa this week? Pretty amiable?"
"Very. Why, have you got into a scrape and want to know how he'll take it?" asked Jo rather sharply.
"Now, Jo, do you think I'd look your mother in the face and say `All right', if it wasn't?" And Laurie stopped short, with an injured air.
"No, I don't."
"Then don't go and be suspicious. I only want some money," said Laurie, walking on again, appeased by her hearty tone.
"You spend a great deal, Teddy."
"Bless you, I don't spend it, it spends itself somehow, and is gone before I know it."
"You are so generous and kind-hearted that you let people borrow, and can't say `No' to anyone. We heard about Henshaw and all you did for him. If you always spent money in that way, no one would blame you," said Jo warmly.
"Oh, he made a mountain out of a molehill. You wouldn't have me let that fine fellow work himself to death just for want of a little help, when he is worth a dozen of us lazy chaps, would you?"
"Of course not, but I don't see the use of your having seventeen waistcoats, endless neckties, and a new hat every time you come home. I thought you'd got over the dandy period, but every now and then it breaks out in a new spot. Just now it's the fashion to be hideous, to make your head look like a scrubbing brush, wear a strait jacket, orange gloves, and clumping square-toed boots. If it was cheap ugliness, I'd say nothing, but it costs as much as the other, and I don't get any satisfaction out of it."
Laurie threw back his head, and laughed so heartily at this attack, that the felt hat fell off, and Jo walked on it, which insult only afforded him an opportunity for expatiating on the advantages of a rough-and-ready costume, as he folded up the maltreated hat, and stuffed it into his pocket.
"Don't lecture any more, there's a good soul! I have enough all through the week, and like to enjoy myself when I come home. I'll get myself up regardless of expense tomorrow and be a satisfaction to my friends."
"I'll leave you in peace if you'll only let your hair grow. I'm not aristocratic, but I do object to being seen with a person who looks like a young prize fighter," observed Jo severely.
"This unassuming style promotes study, that's why we adopt it," returned Laurie, who certainly could not be accused of vanity, having voluntarily sacrificed a handsome curly crop to the demand for quarterinch-long stubble.
"By the way, Jo, I think that little Parker is really getting desperate about Amy. He talks of her constantly, writes poetry, and moons about in a most suspicious manner. He'd better nip his little passion in the bud, hadn't he?" added Laurie, in a confidential, elder brotherly tone, after a minute's silence.
"Of course he had. We don't want any more marrying in this family for years to come. Mercy on us, what are the children thinking of?" And Jo looked as much scandalized as if Amy and little Parker were not yet in their teens.
"It's a fast age, and I don't know what we are coming to, ma'am. You are a mere infant, but you'll go next, Jo, and we'll be left lamenting," said Laurie, shaking his head over the degeneracy of the times.
"Don't be alarmed. I'm not one of the agreeable sort. Nobody will want me, and it's a mercy, for there should always be one old maid in a family."
"You won't give anyone a chance," said Laurie, with a sidelong glance and a little more color than before in his sunburned face. "You won't show the soft side of your character, and if a fellow gets a peep at it by accident and can't help showing that he likes it, you treat him as Mrs. Gummidge did her sweetheart, throw cold water over him, and get so thorny no one dares touch or look at you."
"I don't like that sort of thing. I'm too busy to be worried with nonsense, and I think it's dreadful to break up families so. Now don't say any more about it. Meg's wedding has turned all our heads, and we talk of nothing but lovers and such absurdities. I don't wish to get cross, so let's change the subject." And Jo looked quite ready to fling cold water on the slightest provocation.
Whatever his feelings might have been, Laurie found a vent for them in a long low whistle and the fearful prediction as they parted at the gate, "Mark my words, Jo, you'll go next."

第二十四章闲聊

　　我们稍稍聊些马奇家的事，就此重起炉灶，轻轻松松地去参加梅格的婚礼。假若长者中有谁说这个故事中"谈情说爱"太多，我估摸他们会这样看（我不担心年青人会提出那样的反对意见），在此我只得说，我只有拿马奇太太的话来搪塞了："家里有四个快乐的姑娘，那边还有一个年轻帅气的邻居，你还能指望别的什么呢？"逝去的三年光阴仅仅给这个安宁的家庭带来少许的变化。战争已经结束，马奇先生平安地回到了家里，埋头读书，忙于小教区的事务。他的性格、他的风度显示出他天生就是一个牧师--一个沉静、勤勉的男人，富于无学究气的那种智慧、视全人类为"兄弟"的善心，以及融入性格之中的诚信，这一切使他显得既威严又谦和。
　　尽管贫穷和耿直的性格摒他于世俗的功利之外，这些品德依然吸引着许多可敬的人，如同芳香的花草吸引蜜蜂一般自然。自然地，他给予他们的甜蜜是他从五十年艰辛生涯中提炼出的甜美的蜜汁。热忱的年青人发现，这位头发花白的学者内心和他们一样年轻；心事重重或满腹焦虑的妇女们本能地向他倾诉她们的烦恼与忧愁，她们确信能从他那儿得到最亲切的同情和最明智的建议；罪人们向这位心地纯净的老人忏悔，祈得训戒与拯救；天资聪颖的人们视他为知友；自命不凡的人隐约感到他比自己有更高尚的怀抱；即便凡夫俗子也承认，他的信仰美而且真，虽然"它们带不来实惠"。
　　在局外人看来，似乎是五个精力充沛的女人统治着这个家庭，在许多事情上也确实如此；但是，坐在书堆里的那位沉静的学者依然是一家之主，是这个家庭的良知、靠山和安慰者，因为，遇到困境时，忙碌焦躁的女人们总是转而向他讨主意，发现丈夫、父亲这两个神圣的字眼对于他名符其实。
　　姑娘们将心交与妈妈，将灵魂交与爸爸，将爱奉献给为她们活着、操劳着的双亲，并且这爱随着年龄的增长而与日俱增，如同赐福人生并超越死亡的美妙纽带将他们温柔地系在了一起。
　　马奇太太虽然比我们前面看到时衰老多了，却依旧生气勃勃，精神饱满。现在她一心用在梅格的婚事上，这样一来，依旧挤满受伤的"男孩们"和士兵的未亡人的医院和收容所，无疑要怀念她那慈爱垂悯的探访了。
　　约翰·布鲁克勇敢地服了一年兵役，受了伤，被送回家，没再让他回到部队。他的领章上既未加星也未加军阶线，然而他无愧于这些，生命与爱情之花灿然开放是多么可贵，而他冒着失去这一切的危险，精神抖擞地毅然从军。约翰完全听从退役安排，一心一意地恢复身体，准备经商，为与梅格组合家庭挣钱。他明白事理，刚毅自强，因此，他谢绝了劳伦斯先生的慷慨相助，接受了簿记员的职位，觉得以自己劳动所得来创业比借贷冒险要心安理得。
　　梅格在工作和等待中度过时光，女人气质愈加丰满，理家艺术日臻完善，人也益发娇媚，原来爱情是功效非凡的美容佳品。她怀抱女孩们通常具有的那种志向与希冀，却又对不得不以卑微的方式开始新生活而感到有些失望。内德·莫法特刚刚娶了萨莉·加德纳，梅格不由自主地将他们华丽的居室、马车、大量的礼品、精美的服饰与自己的比较，心中暗自希望也能拥有同样的一切。然而，不知怎么，当她想到约翰为迎接她的小家而付出的挚爱与辛劳时，那种忌妒与不平便很快消失得无影无踪。暮霭中他们坐在一起谈论他们的那些小计划，这时，未来总是变得那么美丽而璀璨，萨利的豪华也被抛到了九霄云外，而她仿佛感到自己就是基督教世界最富有、最幸福的姑娘。
　　乔再也没回到马奇婶婶那里，因为老太太是那样赏识艾美，她提出要让当今最好的老师来教她绘画，以此讨好她。由于这件好事的缘故，艾美便得去服侍这个很难侍候的老太。这样，艾美上午去为姑老太尽义务，下午则去享受绘画的乐趣，两不爽失。乔全副心思用在文学和贝思身上。贝思患猩红热已成往事，可身体却从此一直很虚弱。确切地说，她已没病，却再也不似往昔那样面色红润，体质健康了；然而她还是那样满怀希望，幸福而宁静，默默地忙这忙那。她乐于这样。她是每个人的朋友、家庭中的天使，早在这以前，那些深爱她的人就已悉知这一切。
　　只要《展翼鹰》为她称之为"废话"的故事支付一专栏一美元的稿酬，乔就觉得自己是个有收入的女人，她勤奋地编造着小传奇故事。但是，她那忙碌的脑袋和发热的思想里却酝酿着伟大的计划。阁楼上她那旧锡盒里，墨渍斑斑的手稿在慢慢地增加着，将来有一天它们会使马奇的姓载入名人录。
　　劳里为让爷爷高兴，顺从地去上了大学，现在，他尽可能地以最轻松的方式完成学业而不使自己失去快乐。他人缘极好，肯散财，有教养，天赋又高。他有一副菩萨心肠，想把别人拉出困境，却常常让自己陷进去。他极有被骄纵的危险，就像许多别的有出息的年青人那样，如果不是拥有一个避邪的护符，也许真的如此。这就是由于有位仁慈的老人与他的成功相维系而居于他的记忆中；还有位母亲般的朋友，照拂他如同亲生儿子。最后，也决非微不足道的便是，他知道那四位天真无邪的姑娘全部由衷地爱他，敬重他，信赖他。
　　劳里也只是个"快活的性情中人"，他当然也就要嬉闹，打情骂俏，洋溢着公子哥气，随大流，感情用事，热衷体育，一如大学中流行的时尚。作弄人也被人作弄，放言无忌，满口村词野语，不止一次地险些被停学和开除。但这些恶作剧都起因于好激动和喜欢寻开心，他也总能坦率地认错，体面地悔过，或者巧言如簧不容置疑地辩解，从而化险为夷。事实上，他对每次侥幸脱险颇为称意自得，乐于向易受感动的姑娘绘声绘色地描述他如何成功地战胜了恼怒不已的导师、凛然不可犯的教授，又怎样击败自己的对手。在姑娘们眼里，"我班上的男人"是英雄，"我们自己人"的丰功伟绩她们是百听不厌。劳里带她们到家里来，她们常得到这些伟人们的恩宠。
　　艾美尤为欣赏这一殊荣，她成了这个圈子中的美人儿，因为这位小姐很早便意识到并懂得施展她天赋的魅力。梅格过于沉缅于她的约翰，因而不在意任何其他的男人。贝思太羞涩，只能偷看他们几眼，仅此而已。她诧异艾美竟能如此支使他们。乔却感到如鱼得水，她发现很难控制自己不去仿效绅士的姿态、辞令和行为，对她来说这些似乎比为年轻小姐们规定的礼仪更合于她的本性。男孩子们都非常喜欢乔，但决不会爱上她，虽然极少有谁能在艾美的石榴裙下不发出一两声充满柔情的赞叹。说到柔情，很自然地将我们带到了"鸽屋"。
　　那是布鲁克先生为梅格准备的新家--一幢棕色小屋。
　　劳里为它起的名，他说这对温柔的情人非常贴切，他们"就像一对斑鸠似地一起过活，先是互相接吻，再喁喁谈情"。这是一座小屋子，屋后有个小花园，屋前有块手帕般的袖珍草坪。梅格打算在这里建一个喷水池，植些小灌木，还要有许多可爱的花儿，虽然眼下喷水池由一个饱经风雨的水瓮代替，水瓮很像一个破旧的装盛残羹剩饭的盂盆；灌木丛不过是几株生死未卜的落叶松幼苗，而花瓶只是插了许多枝条，标志着那里已撒下了花籽。然而，屋里的一切都赏心悦目。从阁楼到地下室，都令幸福的新娘无可挑剔。确实，门厅太窄了，幸好他们还没有钢琴，因为整架钢琴无法弄进去。餐厅太小，六个人便会挤得转不过身来。厨房的楼梯口似乎是专门建来存放煤箱的，仆人们连同乱七八糟的瓷器都归属其间。然而，一旦习惯了这些小小的瑕疵，就会感到没有别的屋比它更加完美了。因为屋子的装饰显示出独特的见地与雅致的情趣，从而别具一番韵味。没有大理石铺面的桌子，没有长长的穿衣镜，小客厅里也没有饰有花边的窗帘，而摆放着简洁的家具、丰富的书籍、一两幅美丽的画，吊窗台上放着插花，四处散放着漂亮的礼物，它们出自友爱之手而爱意深长。
　　劳里送的礼物是一尊白色细瓷爱神，约翰将它的托架去掉了，但我想爱神并未因此而损失丝毫美感。极富艺术灵感的艾美为她装饰了素净的棉布窗帘，任何装饰商都不能比艾美更别出心裁。乔和妈妈将梅格仅有的几个箱子、桶和包裹放进了她的储藏室，也放进去她们美好的祝愿、愉快的话语和幸福的希望。我想不出还有哪一间储藏室会有这一间丰富多彩。罕娜将所有的盆盆罐罐安排了十几次，做好了生火的一切准备，一俟"布鲁克太太来家"便能点着。我确信，若不是如此，这间崭新的厨房看上去不可能这样舒适整洁。我还怀疑有没有别的主妇开始新生活时会有如此之多的擦布、夹子和碎布袋，因为，贝思为她准备得足以用到银婚之日来临。她还发明了三种不同的抹布，专门用来擦拭新娘的瓷器。
　　那些雇人做这些工作的人们根本不知道他们失去了什么，这些最平常的事务由充满爱意的手来做，便会产生美感。
　　梅格从很多地方得到了印证。她小窝里的每一件物品，从厨房里的擀面棍到客厅桌上的银花瓶，都明白地显示出家人的爱心与细致的筹谋。
　　他们一起计划着，多么幸福的时光！多么庄严的嫁妆采购！他们犯了些多么可笑的错误！劳里买来些滑稽的便宜货，又引起了怎样的阵阵笑声啊！这位年轻先生爱开玩笑，尽管就快大学毕业了，仍旧孩子气十足。他最近突发奇想，每周来访时，为年轻的管家妇带来些新奇有用的精巧物品。先是一袋奇异的衣类，接着是一个绝妙的肉豆蔻粉碎机，可是第一次试用便散了架。还有一个刀具除垢器，却弄脏了所有的刀具；一个除尘器，能打扫干净地毯的毛绒，却留下了污垢；省力的肥皂，用时洗掉了手上的皮肤；可靠的胶泥，能牢牢粘住上当的买主的手指，却不粘别物；还有各种白铁工艺品，从放零钱的玩具储蓄罐到奇妙的汽锅，那锅产生的蒸气可洗涤物品，使用过程中却极可能爆炸。
　　梅格徒然地让他就此打住，约翰笑话他，乔叫他为"拜拜先生"。可是他正被这种狂热所左右，非要赞助美国人新奇的设计，让他朋友的家适宜地装备起来不可。因此，大家每周都会看到新鲜的、滑稽可笑的事情。
　　终于一切准备就绪，包括艾美为不同颜色的房间配备的不同颜色的肥皂，以及贝思为第一顿饭安排的餐桌。
　　"你满意了吗？它看上去像家吗？在这儿你感到幸福吗？"马奇太太问，母女俩正手挽着手在这新王国里进进出出。此时，她们似乎比以前更温柔地相互依恋了。
　　"是的，妈妈。我十分满意。感谢你们大家。我太幸福了，倒说不出什么了，"梅格回答，她的表情胜于言语。
　　"要是她有一两个仆人就好了，"艾美从客厅走出来说道。
　　她在那里试图敲定，墨丘利铜像放在玻璃柜里还是壁炉台上更好。
　　"妈和我谈过这事，我决心先试试她的办法。我有洛蒂帮我做活，忙这忙那，该不会有多少事情要做的了。我要干的活儿，只足以使我免于懒惰和想家，"梅格平静地回答道。
　　"萨利·莫法特有四个仆人，"艾美开口说。
　　"要是梅格有四个，她的屋子也没法住下，这样先生与夫人只好在花园里扎营了，"乔插了嘴。她身系一条蓝色大围裙，正在为门把手做最后的加工。
　　"萨莉可不是穷人的妻子，众多的女仆也正般配她的华宅。梅格和约翰起点低，可是我觉得，小屋里会有和大房子里同样多的幸福。像梅格这样的年青姑娘若是啥事不干，只是打扮、发号施令、闲聊，那就荒谬之极了。我刚结婚时，总是盼望我的新衣服穿坏或磨破，这样我就有缝缝补补的乐趣了。我烦透了钩编织品，摆弄手绢。""你为什么不去厨房瞎忙乎呢？萨利说她就是这样以此为乐的，尽管烹饪从不成功，仆人们也总笑她，"梅格说道。
　　"后来我是那么做的，但不是'瞎忙乎'，而是向罕娜学习该怎么做。我的仆人们没有必要笑话我，当时那不过是游戏。可是，有一度我雇不起仆人的时候，我不仅有决心，也有能力为我的小姑娘们烧煮有益健康的食物。我自个儿为此感到很受用。梅格，亲爱的，你是从另一头开始的。但是你现在学得的教训渐渐地会派上用常当约翰富裕了一些时，对家庭主妇来说，不管多么显赫荣耀，都应知道活儿该怎样去做，如果她希望被人尽心尽意地侍候的话。""是的，妈妈，我相信，"梅格说，她毕恭毕敬地听着这个小小的教诲。就管家这引人入胜的话题来说，大部分妇女都会滔滔不绝地发表意见的。"你知道吗？这些小房间我最喜欢的是这一间，"一会儿后，她们上了楼，梅格看着她装满亚麻织品的衣橱，接着说道。
　　贝思正在那儿，她将雪白的织品齐整地摆放在橱架上，为这一大批漂亮的织品得意非凡。梅格说话时三个人都笑了起来，因为那亚麻织品是个笑话。要知道，马奇婶婶曾说过，假如梅格嫁给"那个布鲁克"，将得不到她的一文钱。可是，当时间平息了她的怒气，当她为她发的誓后悔时，老太太左右为难了。她从不食言，便绞尽脑汁如何转这个弯子。最后她设计了一个能使她满意的方案。卡罗尔太太，弗洛伦斯的妈妈受命去购买、缝制、设计了一大批装饰屋子和桌子的亚麻织品，并作为她的礼品送给梅格。卡罗尔太太忠实地做了这一切，但是秘密泄露了出来，全家人大为欣赏，马奇婶婶试图做出全然不觉的样子，坚持说她不给梅格别的礼物，只给她那串老式的珍珠项链，那是早就应诺要送给第一个新娘的。
　　"我很高兴，这是会当家才有的审美能力。以前我有个年青朋友，开始成家时只有六床被单，但因有洗指钵伴着她而再无所求。"马奇太太带着道地的女性鉴赏力轻轻拍打着绣花台布。
　　"我连一个洗指钵也没有，但是，我的这份家当够我用一辈子了，罕娜也这样说。"梅格看上去一副知足的样子，她也满可以这样知足。
　　"'拜拜'来了，"乔在楼下叫了起来，大家便一起下楼迎劳里。在她们平静的生活里，劳里的每周来访是件大事。
　　一个高个儿、宽肩膀的年青人迈着有力的步子快速走了过来，他理着短发，头戴毡帽，身上的衣服宽宽大大。他没有停步去开那低矮的篱笆门，而是跨了过来，径直走向马奇太太，一边伸出双手，热诚地说道："我来了，妈妈！啊，一切都好。"他后面的话回答了老夫人神情里流露出的询问。他漂亮的双眼露出坦率的目光，迎接这种关切的神情。这样，小小的仪式像往常一样，以母亲的一吻结束。
　　"这个给约翰·布鲁克太太，顺致制作人的恭贺与赞美。
　　贝思，上帝保佑你！乔，你真是别有韵致。艾美，你出落得太漂亮了，不好再当单身小姐了。"劳里一边说着，一边丢给梅格一个牛皮纸包，扯了扯贝思的发结，盯着乔的大围裙。在艾美面前做出一副带嘲弄味的痴迷样，然后和众人一握手，大家便谈起话来。
　　"约翰在哪儿？"梅格焦急地问道。
　　"丢下一切为明天办理结婚证书做准备去了，夫人。""比赛哪边赢了，特迪？"乔问道。尽管已经十九岁，乔一如既往地对男人们的运动感兴趣。
　　"当然是我们了。真希望你也在常"
　　"那位可爱的兰德尔小姐怎么样了？"艾美意味深长地笑着问。
　　"比以前更残忍了，你看不出我是怎样憔悴？"劳里呯呯地拍着他宽阔的胸膛，神情夸张地叹息道。
　　"这最后一个玩笑是什么？梅格，打开包裹瞧瞧，"贝思好奇地打量着鼓鼓囊囊的包裹说道。
　　"家里有这个很有用，以防火灾或盗贼，"劳里说道。在姑娘们的笑声中，一个更夫用的响铃出现在众人眼前。
　　"一旦约翰不在家，而你又感到害怕的时候，梅格夫人，只要你在前窗摇它，立刻就能惊动邻居。这东西很妙，是不是？"劳里示范其功效，姑娘们不由捂住了耳朵。
　　"你们的配合真让我感激！说到感激，我想到一件事，你们得谢谢罕娜，她使婚宴蛋糕免遭毁灭。我过来时看到了蛋糕，要不是她英勇地护卫着它，我就会吃上几口的。它看上去好极了。""真不知你可会长大，劳里，"梅格带着主妇的口气说道。
　　"我尽力而为，夫人。可是，我恐怕再长不了多大了。在这种衰败的年代，六英尺大约就是所有男人能长到的高度了，"年轻先生回答道，他的头大约和那小枝形吊灯平齐了。
　　"我想，在这样整洁的屋子里吃东西会亵渎神灵，可我饿极了，因此，我提议休会，"过了一会儿，他补充道。
　　"我和妈妈要等约翰，最后还有些事情要解决，"梅格说着，急急忙忙走开了。
　　"我和贝思要去告蒂·布莱恩家为明天多弄些鲜花，"艾美接过话头。她在美丽的鬈发上戴着一顶别致的帽子，和大家一样大为欣赏如此装扮的效果。
　　"乔，来吧，别丢开我。我疲倦极了，没人帮助回不了家。
　　不管你做什么，别解下围裙，它怪模怪样还挺漂亮，"劳里说道。乔将那个他特别讨厌的围裙放入她硕大的口袋里，伸出胳膊，支撑他无力的脚步。
　　"好了，特迪，我要和你认真谈谈明天的事，"他们一起踱步离开时，乔开口说道，"你必须保证好好表现，别搞恶作剧，破坏我们的计划。""决不再犯。""我们该严肃时，别说可笑的事情。""我决不说。你才会那样做呢。""还有，我求你在仪式进行中别看我。你要是看，我肯定要笑的。""你不会看到我的。你会哭得很厉害，厚厚的泪雾将模糊你的视线。""除非有很深的痛苦，我从不会哭的。""比方人家去上大学，嘿？"劳里笑着插嘴暗示她。
　　"别神气十足了，我只是随着姐妹们一起哭了一小会。""真的是这样。我说，乔，爷爷这星期怎么样？脾气很温和吗？""非常温和。怎么？你有麻烦了，想知道他会怎样？"乔很尖锐地问道。
　　"哎呀，乔，你以为，如果我有了麻烦，还能直视你妈妈，说'一切都好'吗？"劳里突然停步，露出受了伤害的神色。
　　"不，我不这么以为。"
　　"那么，别这样疑神疑鬼。我只需要些钱，"劳里说道。她恳切的语调抚慰了他，他继续走路。
　　"你花钱太厉害了，特迪。"
　　"天哪，不是我花了钱，而是钱自己花掉了。不知怎么搞的，我还没反应过来，钱已没了。""你那么慷慨大方，富于同情心。你借钱给别人，对谁的要求都不拒绝。我们听说了亨肖的事，听说了你为他做的一切。要是你一直像那样花钱，没人会责怪你，"乔热情地说。
　　"噢，他小题大做了。他一人抵一打我们这样的懒家伙，你总不会让我眼看着他只为需要一点点帮助而去干活累死吧，是不是？""当然不会。但是，你有十七件背心，数不清的领带，每次回家都戴一顶新帽子，我看不出这有什么益处。我以为你已经过了讲究浮华服饰的时期。可是，这毛病时不时又在新的地方冒了头。如今丑陋的打扮倒成了时髦--你把头弄成了矮灌木丛，穿紧身夹克，戴桔色手套，穿厚底方头靴。要是这种难看的打扮不费钱，我不说什么，可它花钱和别的装束一样多，而且我一点也不满意。"对于这一攻击，劳里仰头大笑，结果毡帽掉到了地上，乔从帽上踩了过去。这个侮辱只为他提供了阐述粗糙服装优点的机会。他折起那顶受了虐待的帽子，将它塞进了口袋。
　　"别再教训人了，好人儿！我一个星期够烦的了，回家来想快活快活。明天，我还是要不考虑花费，打扮起来，让我的朋友们满意。""你只要把头发蓄起来我就不烦你了。我并不讲贵族派头，但我不愿让人看见和一个貌似职业拳击手的年轻人在一起，"乔严肃地说。
　　"这种其实的发型促进学习，我们因此而采用它，"劳里回答。他心甘情愿地牺牲了漂亮的鬈发，迁就这种只有四分之一英寸长的短发茬，这样当然不能指责他爱慕虚荣。
　　"顺便说说，乔，我看那个小帕克真的是为了艾美而不顾一切了。他不停地谈论她，为她写诗，神情痴迷，态度真让人起疑。他最好将他稚嫩的热情消灭于萌芽状态，是不是？"沉默了片刻，劳里以推心置腹的、兄长般的口气接着说道。
　　"他当然该这样。我们不希望几年内家里又有什么婚姻大事。我的天哪，这些孩子们在想些什么啊？"乔看上去大为震惊，仿佛艾美和小帕克已经不是少年了。
　　"这是个高速时代，我不知道我们会有什么样的结局，你只是个孩子，乔，但是，下一个将是你出嫁，把我们留下来悲叹。"劳里对这堕落的时代大摇其头。
　　"别惊慌，我不是那种可人儿，没有人要我，那也是神的恩赐，因为一家之中总要有个老处女的。""你不会给任何人机会的，"劳里说着瞥了她一眼，晒黑的脸庞上泛起了一点红晕，"你不会将你性格里温柔的一面示人的。假如谁偶然窥视到这一面，不由自主地表示他喜欢你，你会像戈米基夫人对她的情人所做的那样--对他泼冷水--变得满身长刺，没有人敢碰你、看你。""我不喜欢那种事。我太忙了，无暇去考虑那些废话。我觉得以那种方式解散家庭太可怕了。好了，别再说这事了。梅格的婚礼使我们大家的脑子都错乱了。我们没谈别的，光谈情人以及这类荒唐事儿。我不愿由此发脾气，因此我们换个话题吧。"乔看上去严阵以待，稍稍一激便会大泼冷水。
　　不管劳里有什么样的感情，他得到了发泄。他们在门口分手时，劳里低声吹了个长口哨，并作了可怕的预测："记住我的话，乔，下一个出嫁的是你。"

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一二三四五六七~~~

举报只看该作者 26楼发表于: 2013-10-25 0

Chapter Twenty-five The First Wedding

The June roses over the porch were awake bright and early on that morning, rejoicing with all their hearts in the cloudless sunshine, like friendly little neighbors, as they were. Quite flushed with excitement were their ruddy faces, as they swung in the wind, whispering to one another what they had seen, for some peeped in at the dining room windows where the feast was spread, some climbed up to nod and smile at the sisters as they dressed the bride, others waved a welcome to those who came and went on various errands in garden, porch, and hall, and all, from the rosiest full-blown flower to the palest baby bud, offered their tribute of beauty and fragrance to the gentle mistress who had loved and tended them so long.
Meg looked very like a rose herself, for all that was best and sweetest in heart and soul seemed to bloom into her face that day, making it fair and tender, with a charm more beautiful than beauty. Neither silk, lace, nor orange flowers would she have. "I don't want a fashionable wedding, but only those about me whom I love, and to them I wish to look and be my familiar self."
So she made her wedding gown herself, sewing into it the tender hopes and innocent romances of a girlish heart. her sisters braided up her pretty hair, and the only ornaments she wore were the lilies of the valley, which `her John' liked best of all the flowers that grew.
"You do look just like our own dear Meg, only so very sweet and lovely that I should hug you if it wouldn't crumple your dress," cried Amy, surveying her with delight when all was done.
"Then I am satisfied. But please hug and kiss me, everyone, and don't mind my dress. I want a great many crumples of this sort put into it today." And Meg opened her arms to her sisters, who clung about her with April faces for a minute, feeling that the new love had not changed the old.
"Now I'm going to tie John's cravat for him, and then to stay a few minutes with Father quietly in the study." And Meg ran down to perform these little ceremonies, and then to follow her mother wherever she went, conscious that in spite of the smiles on the motherly face, there was a secret sorrow hid in the motherly heart at the flight of the first bird from the nest.
As the younger girls stand together, giving the last touches to their simple toilet, it may be a good time to tell of a few changes which three years have wrought in their appearance, for all are looking their best just now.
Jo's angles are much softened, she has learned to carry herself with ease, if not grace. The curly crop has lengthened into a thick coil, more becoming to the small head atop of the tall figure. There is a fresh color in her brown cheeks, a soft shine in her eyes, and only gentle words fall from her sharp tongue today.
Beth has grown slender, pale, and more quiet than ever. The beautiful, kind eyes are larger, and in them lies an expression that saddens one, although it is not sad itself. It is the shadow of pain which touches the young face with such pathetic patience, but Beth seldom complains and always speaks hopefully of `being better soon'.
Amy is with truth considered `the flower of the family', for at sixteen she has the air and bearing of a full-grown woman, not beautiful, but possessed of that indescribable charm called grace. One saw it in the lines of her figure, the make and motion of her hands, the flow of her dress, the droop of her hair, unconscious yet harmonious, and as attractive to many as beauty itself. Amy's nose still afflicted her, for it never would grow Grecian, so did her mouth, being too wide, and having a decided chin. These offending features gave character to her whole face, but she never could see it, and consoled herself with her wonderfully fair complexion, keen blue eyes, and curls more golden and abundant than ever.
All three wore suits of thin silver gray (their best gowns for the summer), with blush roses in hair and bosom, and all three looked just what they were, fresh-faced, happy-hearted girls, pausing a moment in their busy lives to read with wistful eyes the sweetest chapter in the romance of womanhood.
There were to be no ceremonious performances, everything was to be as natural and homelike as possible, so when Aunt March arrived, she was scandalized to see the bride come running to welcome and lead her in, to find the bridegroom fastening up a garland that had fallen down, and to catch a glimpse of the paternal minister marching upstairs with a grave countenance and a wine bottle under each arm.
"Upon my word, here's a state of things!" cried the old lady, taking the seat of honor prepared for her, and settling the folds of her lavender moire with a great rustle. "You oughtn't to be seen till the last minute, child."
"I'm not a show, Aunty, and no one is coming to stare at me, to criticize my dress, or count the cost of my luncheon. I'm too happy to care what anyone says or thinks, and I'm going to have my little wedding just as I like it. John, dear, here's your hammer." And away went Meg to help `that man' in his highly improper employment.
Mr. Brooke didn't even say, "Thank you," but as he stooped for the unromantic tool, he kissed his little bride behind the folding door, with a look that made Aunt March whisk out her pocket handkerchief with a sudden dew in her sharp old eyes.
A crash, a cry, and a laugh from Laurie, accompanied by the indecorous exclamation, "Jupiter Ammon! Jo's upset the cake again!" caused a momentary flurry, which was hardly over when a flock of cousins arrived, and `the party came in', as Beth used to say when a child.
"Don't let that young giant come near me, he worries me worse than mosquitoes," whispered the old lady to Amy, as the rooms filled and Laurie's black head towered above the rest.
"He has promised to be very good today, and he can be perfectly elegant if he likes," returned Amy, and gliding away to warn Hercules to beware of the dragon, which warning caused him to haunt the old lady with a devotion that nearly distracted her.
There was no bridal procession, but a sudden silence fell upon the room as Mr. March and the young couple took their places under the green arch. Mother and sisters gathered close, as if loath to give Meg up. The fatherly voice broke more than once, which only seemed to make the service more beautiful and solemn. The bridegroom's hand trembled visibly, and no one heard his replies. But Meg looked straight up in her husband's eyes, and said, "I will!" with such tender trust in her own face and voice that her mother's heart rejoiced and Aunt March sniffed audibly.
Jo did not cry, though she was very near it once, and was only saved from a demonstration by the consciousness that Laurie was staring fixedly at her, with a comical mixture of merriment and emotion in his wicked black eyes. Beth kept her face hidden on her mother's shoulder, but Amy stood like a graceful statue, with a most becoming ray of sunshine touching her white forehead and the flower in her hair.
It wasn't at all the thing, I'm afraid, but the minute she was fairly married, Meg cried, "The first kiss for Marmee!" and turning, gave it with her heart on her lips. During the next fifteen minutes she looked more like a rose than ever, for everyone availed themselves of their privileges to the fullest extent, from Mr. Laurence to old Hannah, who, adorned with a headdress fearfully and wonderfully made, fell upon her in the hall, crying with a sob and a chuckle, "Bless you, deary, a hundred times! The cake ain't hurt a mite, and everything looks lovely."
Everybody cleared up after that, and said something brilliant, or tried to, which did just as well, for laughter is ready when hearts are light. There was no display of gifts, for they were already in the little house, nor was there an elaborate breakfast, but a plentiful lunch of cake and fruit, dressed with flowers. Mr. Laurence and Aunt March shrugged and smiled at one another when water, lemonade, and coffee were found to be to only sorts of nectar which the three Hebes carried around. No one said anything, till Laurie, who insisted on serving the bride, appeared before her, with a loaded salver in his hand and a puzzled expression on his face.
"Has Jo smashed all the bottles by accident?" he whispered, "or am I merely laboring under a delusion that I saw some lying about loose this morning?"
"No, your grandfather kindly offered us his best, and Aunt March actually sent some, but Father put away a little for Beth, and dispatched the rest to the Soldier's Home. You know he thinks that wine should be used only in illness, and Mother says that neither she nor her daughters will ever offer it to any young man under her roof."
Meg spoke seriously and expected to see Laurie frown or laugh, but he did neither, for after a quick look at her, he said, in his impetuous way, "I like that! For I've seen enough harm done to wish other women would think as you do."
"You are not made wise by experience, I hope?" And there was an anxious accent in Meg's voice.
"No. I give you my word for it. Don't think too well of me, either, this is not one of my temptations. Being brought up where wine is as common as water and almost as harmless, I don't care for it, but when a pretty girl offers it, one doesn't like to refuse, you see."
"But you will, for the sake of others, if not for your own. Come, Laurie, promise, and give me one more reason to call this the happiest day of my life."
A demand so sudden and so serious made the young man hesitate a moment, for ridicule is often harder to bear than self-denial. Meg knew that if he gave the promise he would keep it at all costs, and feeling her power, used it as a woman may for her friend's good. She did not speak, but she looked up at him with a face made very eloquent by happiness, and a smile which said, "No one can refuse me anything today."
Laurie certainly could not, and with an answering smile, he gave her his hand, saying heartily, "I promise, Mrs. Brooke!"
"I thank you, very, very much."
"And I drink `long life to your resolution', Teddy," cried Jo, baptizing him with a splash of lemonade, as she waved her glass and beamed approvingly upon him.
So the toast was drunk, the pledge made and loyally kept in spite of many temptations, for with instinctive wisdom, the girls seized a happy moment to do their friend a service, for which he thanked them all his life.
After lunch, people strolled about, by twos and threes, through the house and garden, enjoying the sunshine without and within. Meg and John happened to be standing together in the middle of the grass plot, when Laurie was seized with an inspiration which put the finishing touch to this unfashionable wedding.
"All the married people take hands and dance round the new-made husband and wife, as the Germans do, while we bachelors and spinsters prance in couples outside!" cried Laurie, promenading down the path with Amy, with such infectious spirit and skill that everyone else followed their example without a murmur. Mr. and Mrs. March, Aunt and Uncle Carrol began it, others rapidly joined in, even Sallie Moffat, after a moment's hesitation, threw her train over her arm and whisked Ned into the ring. But the crowning joke was Mr. Laurence and Aunt March, for when the stately old gentleman chass'ed solemnly up to the old lady, she just tucked her cane under arm, and hopped briskly away to join hands with the rest and dance about the bridal pair, while the young folks pervaded the garden like butterflies on a midsummer day.
Want of breath brought the impromptu ball to a close, and then people began to go.
"I wish you well, my dear, I heartily wish you well, but I think you'll be sorry for it," said Aunt March to Meg, adding to the bridegroom, as he led her to the carriage, "You've got a treasure, young man, see that you deserve it."
"That is the prettiest wedding I've been to for an age, Ned, and I don't see why, for there wasn't a bit of style about it," observed Mrs. Moffat to her husband, as they drove away.
"Laurie, my lad, if you ever want to indulge in this sort of thing, get one of those little girls to help you, and I shall be perfectly satisfied," said Mr. Laurence, settling himself in his easy chair to rest after the excitement of the morning.
"I'll do my best to gratify you, Sir," was Laurie's unusually dutiful reply, as he carefully unpinned the posy Jo had put in his buttonhole.
The little house was not far away, and the only bridal journey Meg had was the quiet walk with John from the old home to the new. When she came down, looking like a pretty Quakeress in her dovecolored suit and straw bonnet tied with white, they all gathered about her to say goodby, as tenderly as if she had been going to make the grand tour.
"Don't feel that I am separated from you, Marmee dear, or that I love you any the less for loving John so much," she said, clinging to her mother, with full eyes for a moment. "I shall come every day, Father, and expect to keep my old place in all your hearts, though I am married. Beth is going to be with me a great deal, and the other girls will drop in now and then to laugh at my housekeeping struggles. Thank you all for my happy wedding day. Goodby, goodby!"
They stood watching her, with faces full of love and hope and tender pride as she walked away, leaning on her husband's arm, with her hands full of flowers and the June sunshine brightening her happy face--and so Meg's married life began.

第二十五章首次婚礼

　　六月的那个早晨，覆盖游廊的玫瑰花儿们一大早便睁开了睡眼，露出灿烂的笑容。它们在艳阳下怒放，如同友好的小邻居，事实正是这样。花儿们激动得满脸通红，在风中摇曳摆动，窃窃私语，议论着它们所见之事。因为，一些花儿透过饭厅窗户窥视到那儿摆着宴席。另一些花儿往上攀着，笑着向正在打扮新娘的妹妹们点头致意，其他的花儿在招手欢迎那些忙这忙那，穿梭于花园、游廊、大厅的人们。所有的玫瑰，无论是鲜艳盛开的花朵，还是色彩最淡的蓓蕾，都以它们的美貌和芬芳向它们那和善的女主人致敬。女主人爱它们，照料它们已经很长时间了。
　　梅格看上去就像一朵玫瑰，那天，心灵中最甜美的东西，似乎都荡漾在她脸上，使那张脸充满魅力、温柔，美丽无比。
　　她不要丝绸衣服和花边，也不要山梅花。"今天我不想看上去和往日有什么不同，也不想盛装打扮，"她说，"我不要时髦的婚礼，只要身边我爱的人们。我希望，在他们眼里，我还是熟悉的老样子。"因此，她亲手缝制结婚礼服，将女孩心中温柔的希望与天真浪漫都缝进了礼服。妹妹们把她漂亮的头发辫成辫子，她身上唯一的装饰是山谷里的百合花。百花之中，"她的约翰"最钟爱百合。
　　"你看上去真的就是我们家亲爱的梅格，只是太漂亮、太可爱了。要不是会把你衣服弄皱，我就要拥抱你了，"打扮完毕，艾美欣喜地打量着姐姐，叫了出来。
　　"那我就满意了。可是，请你们每个人都来拥抱我，亲吻我。别管我的衣服，我今天想让衣服带上许许多多这样的折皱。"梅格向妹妹们伸出了胳膊，好一会儿妹妹们满面春风地依偎着姐姐，感到新的爱情并未改变昔日的姊妹之情。
　　"好了，我得去为约翰系领带了。然后我要和爸爸在书房里安静地呆一会儿。"梅格跑下楼去行这些小小的礼节，之后便跟在妈妈的身前身后，一步不离。她意识到尽管妈妈脸上露着笑容，内心却隐藏着悲哀：鸟巢里的第一只鸟儿就要展翅高飞了。
　　眼下，三个姑娘站在一起，为她们朴素的装扮做最后的修饰。我们正好利用这段时间描述一下三年时光给姑娘们的容颜带来的变化。此时此刻，所有的一切使她们看上去动人之极。
　　乔的棱角已磨平了许多。她学会了虽不很优雅但也自如地展露风情。卷毛的小平头已长满密密长长的鬈发，目光柔和清亮。如今，从她那从不饶人的舌头上吐出来的只有轻柔的话语。
　　贝思更加纤弱、苍白，也更加沉静。她那双美丽、友善的眼睛更大了。虽然这双眼睛本身并不悲伤，但眼神却让人伤感。痛苦的阴影触摸着年轻的脸庞，透出一种哀婉动人的坚韧。然而，贝思极少抱怨，总是充满希望地说"不久就会好起来"。
　　艾美是名符其实的"家庭之花"。十六岁的她已经具有成熟女性的风韵举止--说不上漂亮，但具有一种无法描绘的魅力。那是一种优雅的韵致。从她形体的曲线，从她的举手投足，从她衣服的平垂，头发的散落，人们都能发现这种魅力--不是有意为之，却协调一致，如同美貌本身，对许多人产生了吸引力。艾美的鼻子仍使她痛苦，因为，鼻子决不会长直了。她的嘴巴也让她苦恼，嘴巴太阔，而且还有着一个坚毅的下巴。这些恼人的特征赋予她整个脸蛋以个性，而她却视而不见。她宽慰自己，她有着白皙的皮肤，敏锐的蓝眼睛，和比以前更浓密的金色鬈发。
　　三个女孩都穿着银灰色的薄裙（她们最好的夏装），发辫和胸口都插着红色的玫瑰。三个人看上去都具有这个年龄女孩们应有的特征--脸上透着活力，心中荡漾着幸福，在忙碌的生活中暂停片刻，带着渴望的眼神，阅读女子浪漫故事中最甜美的一章。
　　没有各种仪式，一切都尽可能地轻松自然。因此，当马奇婶婶到来时，看到眼前的一切不由大为震惊：新娘竟跑出来迎她，而新郎却忙着固定一只掉下来的花环，身为父亲的牧师则两只胳膊下各夹着一瓶酒一本正经地往楼上走。
　　"嗳呀，真是乱七八糟！"老太太叫道，一屁股坐在为她准备的雅座上，摆弄着她那淡紫色波纹绸衣的皱褶，发出好一阵沙沙声，"孩子，要到最后一刻你才能被人看见埃""婶子，我不是展品，没有人来盯着我看，评判我的衣服，或估算婚宴的费用。我太幸福了，顾不上别人怎么说、怎么想。我要以我喜欢的方式举行我的婚礼。约翰，亲爱的，给你锤子。"梅格就这样走开了，去帮"那人"干那件完全不适合他的工作。
　　布鲁克先生甚至没有说声"谢谢"。但他弯腰去接那毫无浪漫色彩的工具时，在折门后吻了他的小新娘。那种景象使马奇婶婶急速掏出手帕，抹去突然涌进她锐利老眼的泪滴。
　　哗啦一声，叫声，劳里的笑声，伴随着不雅的惊叹："天啊！好家伙！乔又把蛋糕毁了！"引起了一阵忙乱。这边还没完，那边又来了一群堂表兄妹。正像贝思小时候常说的："大队人马驾到。""别让那小巨人靠近我。他比蚊子还让我烦，"马奇婶婶对艾美耳语道。屋子里挤满了人，而劳里的黑色头顶超出所有的人。
　　"他答应过我今天好好表现。如果他愿意，他能做到非常优雅，"艾美回答道。她溜过去警告海格立斯当心这位严厉的婶婶，可警告倒使他一门心思缠住老太太，让老太太差点发疯。
　　没有婚礼上常见的列队行进，但马奇先生和一对新人在绿色的拱门下站定时，屋里一片寂静。妈妈和妹妹们挨得紧紧的，好像极不情愿送走梅格。爸爸不止一次停下话来，这使得仪式更加美丽、庄严。新郎的手在颤抖，谁也没听清他的回答；然而，梅格直盯着丈夫的双眼说道："我愿意！"她的面容、她的声音都带着温柔的信任，这让母亲感到欣慰，马奇婶婶却嗤之以鼻。
　　乔没有哭，尽管差一点儿就哭出来。她意识到劳里正盯着她看，淘气的黑眼睛带着既欢乐又伤感的可笑神色。她这才忍住没哭。贝思把头埋在妈妈肩膀里。艾美站在那儿，就像一座优雅的雕像，一束阳光抚摸着她白皙的额角和头上的花束，好看极了。值得一提的还有很多，可婚礼一完，梅格哭了出来："第一个吻给妈咪！"她转过身，用充满爱意的唇，吻了吻妈妈。接下来的十五分钟，她看上去愈发像一朵玫瑰了，因为从劳伦斯先生到罕娜嬷嬷，每个人都最大限度地利用这一特权。老罕娜围着条精巧的大头巾，在大厅里倚在梅格身上，又是哭又是笑，叫着："祝福你，亲爱的，一百遍！
　　蛋糕一点儿也没事，一切看上去都好。"然后大家都振奋起来，说了些或试着说些鼓舞人心的话。
　　他们做得很好，轻快的心情容易产生笑声。没有展示礼物，因为礼物已经陈列在小屋中了；也没有精心烹制的早餐，但是午餐很丰盛，蛋糕、水果，全用鲜花装饰着。劳伦斯先生和马奇婶婶耸耸肩，相视而笑，他们发现三个斟酒女神。巡回传递的饮品只是水、柠檬汁和咖啡。但是谁也没吱声，直到劳里出现在新娘面前。他手端装满食物的托盘，脸上带着迷惑的神情，坚持让新娘吃东西。
　　"是不是乔不慎把酒瓶都打碎了？"他轻声问，"或许我只是自找没趣，我早上看见地上有一些碎酒瓶。""不是，你爷爷很客气，把他最好的酒拿来给我们了，而且，马奇婶婶也送过来一些。但是爸爸给贝思留了一些，将剩下的送给军人之家了。你知道，他认为只有生病时才能喝酒。妈妈说，她和她的女儿们都不会在家中用酒招待年轻人。"梅格认真地说着，她想劳里会皱眉或笑笑，但他既没皱眉也没笑，而是迅速地扫了她一眼，像他惯常一样冲动地说："我喜欢那样。我看够了喝酒造成的危害，希望别的女人们也能像你们这样想。""并不是经验使你变聪明的吧，我想。"梅格的语调含着担心。
　　"不是，我保证。但也别把我想得太好。这不是我面临的一个诱惑。在我长大的地方，酒和水一样普遍，而且几乎无害。我不喜欢酒，但是，如果一个美丽的姑娘向你敬酒，你就不想拒绝了，是吧？""可你会拒绝的，即使不为你自己，也要为别人着想。劳里，答应我，给我加条理由，让今天成为我一生中最幸福的日子。"这样突然、认真的请求使年轻人犹豫了一会，因为嘲弄比自我克制更难忍受。梅格知道，一旦他作出许诺，他将不顾一切遵守诺言。她感觉到了她的力量，为了朋友好，她以女人的方式运用了她的力量。她没有说话，抬头看着他。幸福使她的脸富于表情，她的笑容似乎在说："今天谁也不能拒绝我的要求。"劳里当然不能。带着会意的笑容，他把手伸给她，由衷地说道："我答应你，布鲁克太太。""谢谢你，非常感谢。""为你的决心干杯，特迪，"乔叫着，倒了一杯柠檬汁为他洗礼。她摇着杯子，赞许地朝他微笑。
　　就这样，祝了酒，发了誓，尽管有许多的诱惑，劳里还是忠实地遵守了诺言。女孩们有着本能的智慧，瞅准了这样一个幸福时刻为她们的朋友做了件好事，为此劳里终身感谢她们。
　　午餐后，人们三三两两穿过房子、花园随意散步，享受着屋里屋外的阳光。梅格和约翰碰巧一起站在草地中央。劳里突然来了灵感，一下给这不时髦的婚礼最后润了色。
　　"所有结了婚的拉起手来，围着新郎新娘跳舞，就像德国人那样，我们单身汉、未婚女在外围捉对跳！"劳里喊道，他正和艾美沿着小路散步。他的话很有技巧，极具感染力，大家毫无异议，跟着跳起来。马奇先生和马奇太太，卡罗尔叔叔和婶婶先开了头，别的人很快加入进去。萨莉·莫法特犹豫了一小会，也将裙裾搭在臂上，迅速将内德拖进舞圈。最可笑的是劳伦斯先生和马奇婶婶这一对。老先生跳着稳重庄严的快步过来邀请老太太，老太太将拐杖往胳膊下一夹，便轻快地随着老先生和其他人一起绕着新人跳起来。而年轻人们像仲夏时节的蝴蝶一样在花园里翩翩起舞。
　　大家跳得气喘吁吁，即兴舞会这才结束。然后人们开始离开。
　　"祝你幸福，亲爱的。衷心愿你一切都好，可我想不久你会后悔的，"马奇婶婶对梅格说。新郎送她上马车，她又接着说："年轻人，你得了个宝贝，留神，你要配得上她。""内德，这婚礼一点也不时髦，但这是我参加过的最美好的婚礼，也不知是为什么，"在驾车离开时，莫法特太太对丈夫这样评论道。
　　"劳里，我的孩子，你如果也想享这种福，就在她们姐妹里头找一个来帮帮你，我会十分满意的，"上午的兴奋已过，劳伦斯先生一边说着，一边坐进安乐椅休息。
　　"我会尽量让您满足的，先生，"劳里非比寻常地恭敬回答，一边仔细拿下乔为他别在钮扣孔的花束。
　　小屋并不远，梅格的新婚之旅便是随着约翰静静地从老屋走向新房。她走下楼来，身着暖灰色的长裙，头戴系着白结的草帽，看上去就像个美丽的贵格会女教徒。大家都围过来，友爱地向他道别，仿佛她就要去作远途旅行。
　　"亲爱的妈咪，别以为我和您分开了，别以为我这么爱约翰对您的爱就减少了，"她热泪盈眶地偎着妈妈说。过了一会儿，她又说："爸，我每天都要回家。我是结了婚，可我想在你们大家心中保留老位置。贝思要常来陪伴我。乔和艾美要时常过来看我管家出洋相。大家让我度过了幸福的结婚日，谢谢，再见，再见！"大家脸上充满爱意、希望与自豪，站在那里目送梅格手捧鲜花，依偎着丈夫走远了。六月的阳光照亮了她幸福的面庞--就这样，梅格的新婚生活开始了。

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一二三四五六七~~~

举报只看该作者 27楼发表于: 2013-10-25 0

Chapter Twenty-six Artistic Attempts

It takes people a long time to learn the difference between talent and genius, especially ambitious young men and women. Amy was learning this distinction through much tribulation, for mistaking enthusiasm for inspiration, she attempted every branch of art with youthful audacity. For a long time there was a lull in the `mud-pie' business, and she devoted herself to the finest pen-and-ink drawing, in which she showed such taste and skill that her graceful handiwork proved both pleasant and profitable. But over-strained eyes caused pen and ink to be laid aside for a bold attempt at poker sketching.
While this attack lasted, the family lived in constant fear of a conflagration, for the odor of burning wood pervaded the house at all hours, smoke issued from attic and shed with alarming frequency, red-hot pokers lay about promiscuously, and Hannah never went to bed without a pail of water and the dinner bell at her door in case of fire. Raphael's face was found boldly executed on the underside of the moulding board, and Bacchus on the head of a beer barrel. A chanting cherub adorned the cover of the sugar bucket, and attempts to portray Romeo and Juliet supplied kindling for some time.
From fire to oil was a natural transition for burned fingers, and Amy fell to painting with undiminished ardor. An artist friend fitted her out with his castoff palettes, brushes, and colors, and she daubed away, producing pastoral and marine views such as were never seen on land or sea. Her monstrosities in the way of cattle would have taken prizes at an agricultural fair, and the perilous pitching of her vessels would have produced seasickness in the most nautical observer, if the utter disregard to all known rules of shipbuilding and rigging had not convulsed him with laughter at the first glance. Swarthy boys and dark-eyed Madonnas, staring at you from one corner of the studio, suggested Murillo. Oily brown shadows of faces with a lurid streak in the wrong place, meant Rembrandt. Buxom ladies and dropiscal infants, Rubens, and Turner appeared in tempests of blue thunder, orange lightning, brown rain, and purple clouds, with a tomato-colored splash in the middle, which might be the sun or a bouy, a sailor's shirt or a king's robe, as the spectator pleased.
Charcoal portraits came next, and the entire family hung in a row, looking as wild and crocky as if just evoked from a coalbin. Softened into crayon sketches, they did better, for the likenesses were good, and Amy's hair, Jo's nose, Meg's mouth, and Laurie's eyes were pronounced `wonderfully fine'. A return to clay and plaster followed, and ghostly casts of her acquaintances haunted corners of the house, or tumbled off closet shelves onto people's heads. Children were enticed in as models, till their incoherent accounts of her mysterious doings caused Miss Amy to be regarded in the light of a young ogress. Her efforts in this line, however, were brought to an abrupt close by an untoward accident, which quenched her ardor. Other models failing her for a time, she undertook to cast her own pretty foot, and the family were one day alarmed by an unearthly bumping and screaming and running to the rescue, found the young enthusiast hopping wildly about the shed with her foot held fast in a pan full of plaster, which had hardened with unexpected rapidity. With much difficulty and some danger she was dug out, for Jo was so overcome with laughter while she excavated that her knife went too far, cut the poor foot, and left a lasting memorial of one artistic attempt, at least.
After this Amy subsided, till a mania for sketching from nature set her to haunting river, field, and wood, for picturesque studies, and sighing for ruins to copy. She caught endless colds sitting on damp grass to book `delicious bit', composed of a stone, a stump, one mushroom, and a broken mullein stalk, or `a heavenly mass of clouds', that looked like a choice display of featherbeds when done. She sacrificed her complexion floating on the river in the midsummer sun to study light and shade, and got a wrinkle over her nose trying after `points of sight', or whatever the squint-and-string performance is called.
If `genius is eternal patience', as Michelangelo affirms, Amy had some claim to the divine attribute, for she persevered in spite of all obstacles, failures, and discouragements, firmly believing that in time she should do something worthy to be called `high art'.
She was learning, doing, and enjoying other things, meanwhile, for she had resolved to be an attractive and accomplished woman, even if she never became a great artist. Here she succeeded better, for she was one of those happily created beings who please without effort, make friends everywhere, and take life so gracefully and easily that less fortunate souls are tempted to believe that such are born under a lucky star. Everybody liked her, for among her good gifts was tact. She had an instinctive sense of what was pleasing and proper, always said the right thing to the right person, did just what suited the time and place, and was so self-possessed that her sisters used to say, "If Amy went to court without any rehearsal beforehand, she'd know exactly what to do."
One of her weaknesses was a desire to move in `our best society', without being quite sure what the best really was. Money, position, fashionable accomplishments, and elegant manners were most desirable things in her eyes, and she liked to associate with those who possessed them, often mistaking the false for the true, and admiring what was not admirable. Never forgetting that by birth she was a gentlewoman, she cultivated her aristocratic tastes and feelings, so that when the opportunity came she might be ready to take the place from which poverty now excluded her.
"My lady," as her friends called her, sincerely desired to be a genuine lady, and was so at heart, but had yet to learn that money cannot buy refinement of nature, that rank does not always confer nobility, and that true breeding makes itself felt in spite of external drawbacks.
"I want to ask a favor of you, Mamma," Amy said, coming in with an important air one day.
"Well, little girl, what is it?" replied her mother, in whose eyes the stately young lady still remained `the baby'.
"Our drawing class breaks up next week, and before the girls separate for the summer, I want to ask them out here for a day. They are wild to see the river, sketch the broken bridge, and copy some of the things they admire in my book. They have been very kind to me in many ways, and I am grateful, for they are all rich and I know I am poor, yet they never made any difference."
"Why should they?" And Mrs. March put the question with what the girls called her `Maria Theresa air'.
"You know as well as I that it does make a difference with nearly everyone, so don't ruffle up like a dear, motherly hen, when your chickens get pecked by smarter birds. The ugly duckling turned out a swan, you know." And Amy smiled without bitterness, for she possessed a happy temper and hopeful spirit.
Mrs. March laughed, and smoothed down her maternal pride as she asked, "Well, my swan, what is your plan?"
"I should like to ask the girls out to lunch next week, to take them for a drive to the places they want to see, a row on the river, perhaps, and make a little artistic fete for them."
"That looks feasible. What do you want for lunch? Cake, sandwiches, fruit, and coffee will be all that is necessary, I suppose?"
"Oh, dear, no! We must have cold tongue and chicken, French chocolate and ice cream, besides. The girls are used to such things, and I want my lunch to be proper and elegant, though I do work for my living."
"How many young ladies are there?" asked her mother, beginning to look sober.
"Twelve or fourteen in the class, but I dare say they won't all come."
"Bless me, child, you will have to charter an omnibus to carry them about."
"Why, Mother, how can you think of such a thing? Not more than six or eight will probably come, so I shall hire a beach wagon and borrow Mr. Laurence's cherry-bounce." (Hannah's pronunciation of charabanc.)
"All of this will be expensive, Amy."
"Not very. I've calculated the cost, and I'll pay for it myself."
"Don't you think, dear, that as these girls are used to such things, and the best we can do will be nothing new, that some simpler plan would be pleasanter to them, as a change if nothing more, and much better for us than buying or borrowing what we don't need, and attempting a style not in keeping with our circumstances?"
"If I can't have it as I like, I don't care to have it at all. I know that I can carry it out perfectly well, if you and the girls will help a little, and I don't see why I can't if I'm willing to pay for it," said Amy, with the decision which opposition was apt to change into obstinacy.
Mrs. March knew that experience was an excellent teacher, and when it was possible she left her children to learn alone the lessons which she would gladly have made easier, if they had not objected to taking advice as much as they did salts and senna.
"Very well, Amy, if your heart is set upon it, and you see your way through without too great an outlay of money, time, and temper, I'll say no more. Talk it over with the girls, and whichever way you decide, I'll do my best to help you."
"Thanks, Mother, you are always so kind." And away went Amy to lay her plan before her sisters. Meg agreed at once, and promised to her aid, gladly offering anything she possessed, from her little house itself to her very best saltspoons. But Jo frowned upon the whole project and would have nothing to do with it at first.
"Why in the world should you spend your money, worry your family, and turn the house upside down for a parcel of girls who don't care a sixpence for you? I thought you had too much pride and sense to truckle to any mortal woman just because she wears French boots and rides in a coupe," said Jo, who, being called from the tragic climax of her novel, was not in the best mood for social enterprises.
"I don't truckle, and I hate being patronized as much as you do!" returned Amy indignantly, for the two still jangled when such questions arose. "The girls do care for me, and I for them, and there's a great deal of kindness and sense and talent among them, in spite of what you call fashionable nonsense. You don't care to make people like you, to go into good society, and cultivate your manners and tastes. I do, and I mean to make the most of every chance that comes. You can go through the world with your elbows out and your nose in the air, and call it independence, if you like. That's not my way."
When Amy had whetted her tongue and freed her mind she usually got the best of it, for she seldom failed to have common sense on her side, while Jo carried her love of liberty and hate of conventionalities to such an unlimited extent that she naturally found herself worsted in an argument. Amy's definition of Jo's idea of independence was such a good hit that both burst out laughing, and the discussion took a more amiable turn. Much against her will, Jo at length consented to sacrifice a day to Mrs. Grundy, and help her sister through what she regarded as `a nonsensical business'.
The invitations were sent, nearly all accepted, and the following Monday was set apart for the grand event. Hannah was out of humor because her week's work was deranged, and prophesied that "ef the washin' and ironin' warn't done reg'lar, nothin' would go well anywheres". This hitch in the mainspring of the domestic machinery had a bad effect upon the whole concern, but Amy's motto was `Nil desperandum', and having made up her mind what to do, she proceeded to do it in spite of all obstacles. To begin with, Hannah's cooking didn't turn out well. The chicken was tough, the tongue too salt, and the chocolate wouldn't froth properly. Then the cake and ice cost more than Amy expected, so did the wagon, and various other expenses, which seemed trifling at the outset, counted up rather alarmingly afterward. Beth got a cold and took to her bed. Meg had an unusual number of callers to keep her at home, and Jo was in such a divided state of mind that her breakages, accidents, and mistakes were uncommonly numerous, serious, and trying.
It it was not fair on Monday, the young ladies were to come on Tuesday, and arrangement which aggravated Jo and Hannah to the last degree. On Monday morning the weather was in that undecided state which is more exasperating than a steady pour. It drizzled a little, shone a little, blew a little, and didn't make up its mind till it was too late for anyone else to make up theirs. Amy was up at dawn, hustling people out of their beds and through their breakfasts, that the house might be got in order. The parlor struck her as looking uncommonly shabby, but without stopping to sigh for what she had not, she skillfully made the best of what she had, arranging chairs over the worn places in the carpet, covering stains on the walls with homemade statuary, which gave an artistic air to the room, as did the lovely vases of flowers Jo scattered about.
The lunch looked charming, and as she surveyed it, she sincerely hoped it would taste well, and that the borrowed glass, china, and silver would get safely home again. The carriages were promised, Meg and Mother were all ready to do the honors, Beth was able to help Hannah behind the scenes, Jo had engaged to be as lively and amiable as an absent mind, and aching head, and a very decided disapproval of everybody and everything would allow, and as she wearily dressed, Amy cheered herself with anticipations of the happy moment when, lunch safely over, she should drive away with her friends for an afternoon of artistic delights, for the `cherry bounce' and the broken bridge were her strong points.
Then came the hours of suspense, during which she vibrated from parlor to porch, while public opinion varied like the weathercock. A smart shower at eleven had evidently quenched the enthusiasm of the young ladies who were to arrive at twelve, for nobody came, and at two the exhausted family sat down in a blaze of sunshine to consume the perishable portions of the feast, that nothing might be lost.
"No doubt about the weather today, they will certainly come, so we must fly round and be ready for them," said Amy, as the sun woke her next morning. She spoke briskly, but in her secret soul she wished she had said nothing about Tuesday, for her interest like her cake was getting a little stale.
"I can't get any lobsters, so you will have to do without salad today," said Mr. March, coming in half an hour later, with an expression of placid despair.
"Use the chicken then, the toughness won't matter in a salad," advised his wife.
"Hannah left it on the kitchen table a minute, and the kittens got at it. I'm very sorry, amy," added Beth, who was still a patroness of cats.
"Then I must have a lobster, for tongue alone won't do," said Amy decidedly.
"Shall I rush into town and demand one?" asked Jo, with the magnanimity of a martyr.
"You'd come bringing it home under your arm without any paper, just to try me. I'll go myself," answered Amy, whose temper was beginning to fail.
Shrouded in a thick veil and armed with a genteel traveling basket, she departed, feeling that a cool drive would soothe her ruffled spirit and fit her for the labors of the day. After some delay, the object of her desire was procured, likewise a bottle of dressing to prevent further loss of time at home, and off she drove again, well pleased with her own forethought.
As the omnibus contained only one other passenger, a sleepy old lady, Amy pocketed her veil and beguiled the tedium of the way by trying to find out where all her money had gone to. So busy was she with her card full of refractory figures that she did not observe a newcomer, who entered without stopping the vehicle, till a masculine voice said, "Good morning, Miss March," and, looking up, she beheld one of Laurie's most elegant college friends. Fervently hoping that he would get out before she did, Amy utterly ignored the basket at her feet, and congratulating herself that she had on her new traveling dress, returned the young man's greeting with her usual suavity and spirit.
They got on excellently, for Amy's chief care was soon set at rest by learning that the gentleman would leave first, and she was chatting away in a peculiarly lofty strain, when the old lady got out. In stumbling to the door, she upset the basket, and--oh horror!--the lobster, in all its vulgar size and brilliancy, was revealed to the highborn eyes of a Tudor.
"By Jove, she's forgotten her dinner!" cried the unconscious youth, poking the scarlet monster into its place with his cane, and preparing to hand out the basket after the old lady.
"Please don't--it's--it's mine," murmured Amy, with a face nearly as red as her fish.
"Oh, really, I beg pardon. It's an uncommonly fine one, isn't it?" said Tudor, with great presence of mind, and an air of sober interest that did credit to his breeding.
Amy recovered herself in a breath, set her basket boldly on the seat, and said, laughing, "Don't you wish you were to have some of the salad he's going to make, and to see the charming young ladies who are to eat it?"
Now that was tact, for two of the ruling foibles of the masculine mind were touched. The lobster was instantly surrounded by a halo of pleasing reminiscences, and curiosity about `the charming young ladies' diverted his mind from the comical mishap.
"I suppose he'll laugh and joke over it with Laurie, but I shan't see them, that's a comfort," thought Amy, as Tudor bowed and departed.
She did not mention this meeting at home (though she discovered that, thanks to the upset, her new dress was much damaged by the rivulets of dressing that meandered down the skirt), but went through with the preparations which now seemed more irksome than before, and at twelve o'clock all was ready again. feeling that the neighbors were interested in her movements, she wished to efface the memory of yesterday's failure by a grand success today, so she ordered the `cherry bounce', and drove away in state to meet and escort her guests to the banquet.
"There's the rumble, they're coming! I'll go onto the porch and meet them. It looks hospitable, and I want the poor child to have a good time after all her trouble," said Mrs. March, suiting the action to the word. But after one glance, she retired, with an indescribable expression, for looking quite lost in the big carriage, sat Amy and one young lady.
"Run, Beth, and help Hannah clear half the things off the table. It will be too absurd to put a luncheon for twelve before a single girl," cried Jo, hurrying away to the lower regions, too excited to stop even for a laugh.
In came Amy, quite calm and delightfully cordial to the one guest who had kept her promise. The rest of the family, being of a dramatic turn, played their parts equally well, and Miss Eliott found them a most hilarious set, for it was impossible to control entirely the merriment which possessed them. The remodeled lunch being gaily partaken of, the studio and garden visited, and art discussed with enthusiasm, Amy ordered a buggy (alas for the elegant cherry-bounce), and drove her friend quietly about the neighborhood till sunset, when `the party went out'.
As she came walking in, looking very tired but as composed as ever, she observed that every vestige of the unfortunate fete had disappeared, except a suspicious pucker about the corners of Jo's mouth.
"You've had a loverly afternoon for your drive, dear," said her mother, as respectfully as if the whole twelve had come.
"Miss Eliott is a very sweet girl, and seemed to enjoy herself, I thought," observed Beth, with unusual warmth.
"Could you spare me some of your cake? I really need some, I have so much company, and I can't make such delicious stuff as yours," asked Meg soberly.
"Take it all. I'm the only one here who likes sweet things, and it will mold before I can dispose of it," answered Amy, thinking with a sigh of the generous store she had laid in for such an end as this.
"It's a pity Laurie isn't here to help us," began Jo, as they sat down to ice cream and salad for the second time in two days.
A warning look from her mother checked any further remarks, and the whole family ate in heroic silence, till Mr. March mildly observed, "salad was one of the favorite dishes of the ancients, and Evelyn..." Here a general explosion of laughter cut short the `history of salads', to the great surprise of the learned gentleman.
"Bundle everything into a basket and send it to the Hummels. Germans like messes. I'm sick of the sight of this, and there's no reason you should all die of a surfeit because I've been a fool," cried Amy, wiping her eyes. "I thought I should have died when I saw you two girls rattling about in the what-you-call-it, like two little kernels in a very big nutshell, and Mother waiting in state to receive the throng," sighed Jo, quite spent with laughter.
"I'm very sorry you were disappointed, dear, but we all did our best to satisfy you," said Mrs. March, in a tone full of motherly regret.
"I am satisfied. I've done what I undertook, and it's not my fault that it failed. I comfort myself with that," said Amy with a little quiver in her voice. "I thank you all very much for helping me, and I'll thank you still more if you won't allude to it for a month, at least."
No one did for several months, but the word `fete' always produced a general smile, and Laurie's birthday gift to Amy was a tiny coral lobster in the shape of a charm for her watch guard.

第二十六章艺术尝试

　　人们花很长时间才能区分天赋和天才，有抱负的年轻男女尤其如此。艾美经过许多磨难才知道两者的区别。她误将热情当作灵感，带着年轻人的冒险心理尝试了各门艺术。有好长一段时间她的"泥饼"作坊停业了。她全身心地投入到极精细的钢笔画习作中，在这门艺术中展露出鉴赏力与技巧。
　　她的雅致的作品令人合意且有利可图。但作钢笔画太伤眼睛，她收起了笔墨，又开始大胆地尝试烙画。
　　在她进行工作品间，全家人始终害怕会有大火灾，因为屋子里整天弥漫着燃烧的木头气味，烟不时从阁楼、棚屋窜出来。地上乱放着烧红的拨火棍。罕娜睡觉前总是准备好一桶水，门边放好用餐铃，以防万一失火。拉斐尔的头像被醒目地烙在擀面板下面。酒神巴克斯给画在了脾酒桶盖上。一个唱歌的小天使装饰着糖罐。绘制罗密欧与朱丽叶的尝试，使燃烧持续了一段时间。
　　手指灼痛了，从火到油彩便成了自然的转折。艾美热情丝毫不减地投入到绘画中。一个艺术家朋友用他废弃的调色板、刷子、水彩将艾美装备起来，艾美便开始涂抹，画出陆上海上从来见不到的田园风光、海洋景色。她画的牛群丑陋怪异，永远不要指望它们能在农市上获奖；她画的船只危险地颠簸，对一个最懂得航海的观众来说，第一眼看到这张全然不顾造船及帆缆准则的画幅，若不是笑得前仰后合，便会晕起船来。黝黑的男孩和黑眼睛的圣母从画室的一角凝视着你，暗示出牟利罗的风格；面孔上油腻的棕色阴影带着错位的俗艳条纹，这是伦勃朗的画法；丰满的妇女和浮肿的婴孩，则是鲁本斯的笔致；透纳的画风出现在描绘暴风雨的画面中：蓝色的雷、桔色的电、棕色的雨、紫色的云，中间飘洒着西红柿颜色的一块，可能是太阳或救生圈，也可能是海员的衬衫或国王的长袍，欣赏者爱怎么理解都行。
　　随后艾美又搞起了木炭肖像画。全家人的肖像挂成一排，看上去毛草草、黑乎乎，仿佛是刚从煤箱里弄出来的。到画铅笔素描时，情况得以改善，画像的相似度不错，艾美的头发、乔的鼻子、梅格的嘴巴以及劳里的眼睛被宣布"极像"。
　　紧接着，艾美又回头摆弄起粘土和石膏。艾美熟人们的模型幽灵般地出没于屋子的角角落落，要不便从壁橱架掉下来砸在人们头上。孩子们被诱来当模特，后来他们支离破碎地描述艾美神秘的做法，听起来她仿佛是个小女妖似的。可是一场不愉快的事故突然终止了她在这方面的努力，同时也熄灭了她的热情，有一度她制作其他模型失败了，便开始制作自己美丽的脚。一天，全家人被一种可怕的撞击声和叫声弄得惊恐万状，大家跑过来救援，发现年轻的艺术狂在棚屋里乱蹦乱跳，一只脚紧紧粘在满满一盆石膏里，石膏出人意料地那么快就变硬了。大家费力地、危险地将她挖了出来，因为乔挖掘时，笑得太厉害，刀子挖得太深，伤了那只可怜的脚，像艾美的艺术尝试一样，给艾美留下了永久的纪念。
　　打那以后，艾美平静下来。可后来又迷上了风景素描，这使得她常去河边、田野、树林研究景色，她渴望能临摹遗迹。
　　她坐在潮湿的草地上画下"美妙的随笔"，一块石头，一个树桩，一个蘑菇，一根折断的毛蕊花茎，或者"一大片祥云"，画下来就像是羽毛褥垫精疲。就这样她老是感冒。她在仲夏的烈日下泛舟河中研究光影，也不管这样会晒黑皮肤。她试着找准"视点"，也就是眯着眼睛调角度什么的，鼻子上弄出了皱纹也不在乎。
　　米开朗琪罗曾断言："天才就是永恒的耐心。"假如真的这样，那么艾美便具有这样非凡的气质。尽管她遇到了许多障碍，遭受了失败和挫折，她还是坚持下去了。她坚信总有一天她会创作出值得称为"高雅艺术"的作品。
　　她学着，干着，同时也欣赏着别的东西。因为即便她成不了伟大的艺术家，她也决心成为一个迷人的有才艺的妇人。
　　在这方面，她较为成功。她是那种生性乐天的人，那种人广交朋友，不用费力便可讨人喜欢，他们生活得优雅轻松，致使一些运气不佳的人认为他们是在幸运星照耀下降临人世的。艾美本能地知道做什么既讨人喜欢又恰如其分。她总是见什么人说什么话，而且会相机行事。她沉着冷静，姐姐们总是说："即使艾美事先毫无准备，走上法庭她也完全知道怎样去做。"艾美的一个弱点是渴望打进"上流社会"。其实她并不确定到底什么是上流。在她看来，钱、地位、时髦的才艺、优雅的风度是最需要的。她喜欢和拥有这一切的人们来往，往往错将假的当成真的，赞美不该赞美的。她从未忘记她生来就是一个淑女，只因家道清贫而没有地位，于是她培养着贵族趣味和感情，随时准备打入上流社会。
　　朋友们称她"贵夫人"，她自己也衷心希望能成为真正的贵夫人，但她也由衷地懂得，钱买不来优雅的性情，地位不能赋于人贵族气质。有些人外表上尽管失意，身上还是显示出纯正的教养。
　　"妈妈，我想请你帮个忙，"一天，艾美走进家门，郑重其事地说。
　　"噢，什么忙，小姑娘？"妈妈答道。在妈妈的眼里，这个高贵的年轻女士依旧是"宝宝"。
　　"下星期我们绘画班放假，姑娘们将离开学校回家过暑假。我想在这之前邀请她们来我们家玩一天。她们很想看看这里的河，画下那座断桥，临摹我画册里的那些东西，她们对那些很欣赏。在很多方面她们对我都很好，我感激她们，因为她们都很富有，也知道我贫穷，但她们并没有对我另眼相待。""她们怎么会这样呢？"妈妈带着姑娘们称之为"玛丽亚·特蕾西亚的神气"提出了问题。
　　"你我都晓得，几乎每个人都确实嫌贫爱富。你也别学那可爱的抱鸡婆，看到小鸡崽遭到强鸟啄，便竖起羽毛发怒。要知道，丑小鸭也会变成天鹅的。"艾美温和地笑了笑。她有个好脾气，而且性格开朗。
　　马奇太太笑起来，她按下做母亲的自尊心问道："那么，我的天鹅，你打算怎样？""我想下星期请姑娘们过来吃饭，带她们坐车去她们想看的地方，也可能去划船，为她们开一个艺术游园会。""听起来能行。你准备用什么作午宴？得有蛋糕、三明治、水果和咖啡，是吧？""噢，不，亲爱的！我们得吃冷舌肉、鸡、法国巧克力，还要冰淇淋。那些女孩们习惯吃这些东西。虽然我不过在挣钱糊口，我还是希望我的午宴优雅得体。""有多少姑娘？"妈妈问，态度认真起来。
　　"班里有十二或十四个，可我敢说她们不会都来。""天哪！孩子，那你得包一辆车把她们接来。""哎呀，妈，您想到哪儿去了。也可能只来六个或八个。
　　这样，我只要租部旅行汽车，再借上劳伦斯先生的'樱木弹跳车'。"（罕娜就是这么念敞篷大马车的。）"这会花掉许多钱的，艾美。""不太多，我已算过帐，我自己出钱。""亲爱的，你可想过，这些女孩已习惯了这一切。我们尽力做到的对她们毫无新意。也许简单点的计划会更令她们满意。比方来点变化，尝试一种违反时尚的风格，这样，那些我们不需要的东西，就用不着去买呀借呀，对我们也许更好。""要是不能按我的心意去办，我就根本不想办了。我晓得，假如你和姐姐们能帮一点忙，我会操办得很好。我不懂干嘛我自己愿意出钱还不能办，"艾美语气坚决地说，反对意见使她固执起来。
　　马奇太太懂得，经验是良师。只要可能，她就让孩子们自己去从经验中吸取教训。要是孩子们不像在前面说的盐和山扁豆事件中那样拒不听取建议，她会乐意使教训变得轻一些。
　　"那好，艾美，要是你一心一意这样做，你觉得这样不会花太多的钱和时间，不会太伤神，我就什么也不说了。去和姐姐们商量商量，不管你怎样决定，我都会尽力帮你的。""谢谢您，妈，你总是这么好。"艾美走开去向姐姐们谈她的计划了。
　　梅格当即应允，许诺帮忙，并乐意提供她所有的一切，从她的小屋到她最好的盐匙。然而乔皱着眉反对整个计划，一开头就不愿插手。
　　"你到底为什么要花掉自己的钱，还要烦扰家人，把家里搞得天翻地覆，来讨好那一群一点也不喜欢你的女孩子们？我还以为你有足够的自尊心，不会因为哪个平常女子穿着法国靴子，坐着小轿车，就去向她献媚呢？"乔说道。她的小说正写到悲伤的高潮，给打断了，没一点儿情绪谈社交活动。
　　"我没有献媚，而且我和你一样也讨厌受人恩惠，"艾美气愤地反驳。这两姐妹一碰到这种问题，还是要吵。"那些女孩就是喜欢我，我也喜欢她们。即便你胡说她们时髦不好，但她们非常友善，头脑清楚，又有天赋。你不在乎培养风度、情趣，进入上流社会，让别人喜欢你，可我在乎。我是说我要充分利用每一个到来的机会。要是愿意，你尽可过贫穷清高的日子，说那是自立，我不会那样。"一旦艾美磨快了舌锋，放开了思路，总是她占上风。她这一边总是合乎常理，而乔喜欢自由，讨厌习俗，争吵中又走极端，结果总是输。艾美给乔的自立观下的定义恰如其分，两个人都哈哈大笑起来。争论也转而温和了些。最后，乔完全违反了自己的意愿，同意放弃一天时间不去格伦迪夫人那儿，帮妹妹干完她认为"毫无意义的事情"。
　　发出的请帖几乎都被收下了。这件大事准备在下星期一。
　　罕娜不太高兴，因为她一周的工作给打乱了。她预言："要是衣服不能按时洗、熨，所有事儿都会搅成一团糟。"家庭机器运转的这一关键处要是出了故障，可要令大家焦虑的。但是，艾美的格言是"决不绝望"，既然她抱定了主意这么做，就开始着手排除障碍干起来。首先，罕娜的烹调不能令人满意：鸡烧老了，舌肉太咸了，巧克力做得不对劲。接着，蛋糕和冰淇淋的花费超出了艾美的预算。马车和各种其他费用也是如此。开初算来似乎数目不大，结果算下来数字惊人。贝思感冒了卧床休息。梅格来的客人多出往日，出不了门。乔情绪对立，结果失手摔坏东西，引起事故，出的错又多又大，令人难堪。
　　"要不是有妈帮忙，我那天根本过不了关，"艾美后来充满感激地回忆着，平时大家已完全忘了"那一季节最好笑的事"。
　　那个星期一假如天气不好，小姑娘们就星期二来--这样的安排让乔和罕娜恼火到极点。星期一早上，天气反复无常，比持续下雨更让人烦心。下了一点毛毛雨，出了会太阳，又刮了点风，等到稳定下来时，再作决定已为时过晚。艾美天刚亮就起床了，她逼着家人也早早起床，吃完早饭，这样好将屋子收拾得井井有条。她突然觉得客厅太破烂不堪了，顾不上为她缺少的东西叹息，便很有技巧地充分利用起她所拥有的东西。她在地毯的破旧处安放些椅子，用常春藤镶边的画儿遮着墙上的污迹，用自制的雕像填充空荡的屋角。乔将插着鲜花的花瓶四处乱放着，这一来，屋子里有了一种艺术格调。
　　她审视了准备好的午餐，看上去不错。她由衷希望吃起来味道也好，希望能安安全全地将借用的杯子、瓷器、银餐具拿回去。车子有了着落，梅格和妈妈都准备好效劳，贝思可以在厨房帮罕娜，乔答应像没事儿似地做出愉快可亲的样子，她坚决反对这让人头痛的一切，可总还得迁就她。艾美一边疲倦地打扮着，一边企盼着幸福的时刻。顺利地用毕午餐后，她将领着朋友们坐车去过一下艺术瘾：那"樱木弹跳车"和断桥是她值得炫耀的东西。想到这些，艾美情绪又好了起来。
　　接下来的两小时让人焦虑不安。艾美来来回回地从客厅晃到游廊，大家对客人是否会来意见不一，像风标一样变化不停。姑娘们应在十二点到达的，可十一点时下了一场阵雨，显然这雨浇灭了她们的热情。一个人也没来。两点了，烈日炎炎，精疲力尽的一家人坐下来将午宴中易馊的食物吃掉，免得浪费。
　　"今天天气不会有问题，她们肯定会来。我们得忙起来，作好准备，"第二天早上，艾美被太阳一照醒便说。她嘴上说得轻快，心下却暗暗后悔不该说星期二的话。她的兴趣和那蛋糕一样有点不新鲜了。
　　"我买不到龙虾，今天你们将就着不吃色拉吧，"半小时后，马奇先生进屋，神色沮丧却平和地说。
　　"那就用鸡肉吧，鸡肉老一点做色拉不影响，"他夫人建议道。
　　"罕娜把鸡在厨房桌上放了一小会，小猫们舔过了。艾美，我真抱歉，"贝思接了茬。她仍然是猫们的女施主。
　　"那我非得要龙虾，光是舌肉是不行的，"艾美口气坚决地说。
　　"要不要我赶去镇上买一只来？"乔问，显出殉道者的宽宏大量。
　　"你会不用纸包，把龙虾夹在胳膊下就带回来，让我不放心。我自己去，"艾美答道，她已开始忍不住脾气了。
　　她披上厚面纱，拎着个时髦的旅行篮子出发了，心下想着乘车凉快一下能平息怒气，也好应付今天的劳作。耽搁了一些时候，要买的都买了，还买了一瓶调味品，以防家里没有又再浪费时间。她坐上回程的车，为她的先见之明庆幸。旅行车里另外只有一个打着盹的老太太。艾美将面纱放进口袋，试着核算出钱都花到哪里去了，以打发沉闷的旅途时光。她手持划满复杂数字的卡片，忙得不亦乐乎，竟没注意又上来了旅客。这个人没喊停车。艾美只听到一个男性的声音："早上好，马奇小姐。"她抬头见是劳里的一个最文雅的大学朋友。
　　艾美强烈地希望他在她前面下车，她完全不管脚边的篮子了。
　　她庆幸自己穿的是新的旅行服装。她以平常的温顺心性向年轻人回了早安。
　　他们谈得很投机，因为艾美得知这位先生将先下车，她最担心的事也就不怕了。她以一种特别高贵的语气谈个不停，就在这时，老太太要下车了。她蹒跚着走向车门，把篮子给打翻了--哎哟，糟糕！--形象俗艳的龙虾一下子暴露在这位仿佛都铎王朝王室成员般高贵的人的眼前。
　　"天哪，她忘了带走午饭，"年轻人不知真相，叫了起来。
　　他用手杖将鲜红的龙虾弄回原处，准备将篮子递给老太太。
　　"请别--这是--这是我的，"艾美咕哝着，脸红得像龙虾。
　　"噢，真的，请原谅。这龙虾真是不错，是不？""都铎"沉着镇定，依然兴致勃勃而又认真地说着，显得很有教养。
　　艾美很快恢复了镇静，她勇敢地将篮子放在了座位上，笑着说："你难道不想尝用它做的色拉，再见见那些享用它的迷人的年轻姑娘们？"这样说很机智，因为触到了男人的两个主要弱点：龙虾立即罩上了逗人遐想的光环，对"迷人的年轻姑娘们"的好奇也使他不再注意这喜剧式的不幸事件。
　　"我想他会和劳里一起笑话这件事的，可我听不到，这就没关系了，"当"都铎"向她鞠躬告别时，她这么想着。
　　回到家她没有提起这场相遇（虽然她发现因为篮子翻了，调味汁顺着衣服曲曲弯弯流到裙子上，把新衣服给毁了）。她做着各种准备，现在这些准备工作似乎更令人厌倦了。十二点，一切就绪。艾美感到邻居们对她的行动产生了兴趣，因此极希望今天能大获成功，以抹去昨天失败的记忆。她叫来了"樱木弹跳车"，昂然驶去载接客人们赴宴。
　　"听到轱辘声了，她们来了。我到游廊去迎接，这样礼节周到些。这可怜的孩子遇到这么多麻烦，我要让她玩得开心，"马奇太太一边说一边往游廊走去。可是，她往外瞥了一眼，便退了回来，脸上表情无法言传，因为在那大大的车厢里，仅仅坐着表情茫然的艾美和一个姑娘。
　　"贝思，快跑去帮罕娜撤下桌上的一半食物。把供给十二个人吃的午餐放在一个女孩面前太荒唐了，"乔叫着，匆匆走到隐蔽处，激动得顾不上停下来笑个够。
　　艾美进来了，她相当镇定，极快乐地热情招待这个唯一遵守诺言的客人。家庭其他成员都有戏剧表演的才能，因此各自的角色都扮演得很好。埃利奥特小姐发现这一家人很有趣，洋溢在他们身上的欢乐情绪无法抑制。愉快地用完调整过的午餐，看过画室与花园，热烈地讨论了艺术，艾美叫了部双轮轻便马车（哎呀，可惜了，那豪华的樱木弹跳车！），带着朋友静静地观赏周围景色，直到日落时分，这时"大队人马退场"。
　　艾美走进屋，看上去很疲惫，但是镇静如常。她看到除去乔嘴角有一条可疑的皱纹外，这个倒霉的招待会没留下一丝痕迹。
　　"你们下午驾车玩得开心吧，亲爱的？"妈妈殷勤地问道，好像十二个女孩都来了一样。
　　"埃利奥特小姐很甜。我想，她看上去玩得很开心，"贝思带着难得的热情评论道。
　　"能把蛋糕分给我一些吗？我客人不少，确实需要些，我做不出味道这样好的蛋糕，"梅格认真地问。
　　"都拿去吧，这边只我一个人爱吃甜食，吃不掉会长霉的，"艾美回答，想到那样充足的准备落了这么个结局，不由叹了口气。
　　"真可惜，劳里不在这里，不能帮忙，"乔说道。大家坐下来，两天中第二次吃冰淇淋和色拉。
　　妈妈使了个警告的眼色，止住乔不再说话，全家人默默地大吃起来，后来马奇先生委婉地说道："色拉是古人最爱吃的一道菜，伊夫林--"话没说完，众人爆发出一阵大笑，打断了"色拉的历史"，让博学的先生大为惊讶。
　　"把所有东西都装到篮子里送给赫梅尔一家吧，德国人喜欢杂烩。我见到这些就作呕。我当了回傻瓜，可没有理由让你们吃得过多噎死。"艾美擦着眼睛哭起来。
　　"当我看到你们两个女孩坐在那个你叫什么来着的车里颠簸，就像一个大坚果里的两个小果仁，而妈妈却郑重其事地准备迎候一群客人时。我真是要笑死了，"乔叹息着说，身子笑得发软。
　　"你感到失望我真难过，亲爱的，可我们大家都尽了力让你满意。"马奇太太语调里充满了母亲的遗憾。
　　"我确实满意了。我已做了我答应做的事。聊以自慰的是，失败不是我的错，"艾美声音有点发颤地说，"非常感谢大家的帮助，可要是你们不再提起这事，我更感谢你们，一个月，至少。"有好几个月没人提起这件事。但是，一说到"招待会"这个字眼，大家都会笑起来。劳里送给艾美的生日礼物是一个挂表链的装饰品--小珊瑚龙虾。

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一二三四五六七~~~

举报只看该作者 28楼发表于: 2013-10-25 0

Chapter Twenty-seven Literary Lessons

Fortune suddenly smiled upon Jo, and dropped a good luck penny in her path. Not a golden penny, exactly, but I doubt if half a million would have given more real happiness then did the little sum that came to her in this wise.
Every few weeks she would shut herself up in her room, put on her scribbling suit, and `fall into a vortex', as she expressed it, writing away at her novel with all her heart and soul, for till that was finished she could find no peace. Her `scribbling suit' consisted of a black woolen pinafore on which she could wipe her pen at will, and a cap of the same material, adorned with a cheerful red bow, into which she bundled her hair when the decks were cleared for action. This cap was a beacon to the inquiring eyes of her family, who during these periods kept their distance, merely popping in their heads semi-occasionally to ask, with interest, "Does genius burn, Jo?" They did not always venture even to ask this question, but took an observation of the cap, and judged accordingly. If this expressive article of dress was drawn low upon the forehead, it was a sign that hard work was going on, in exciting moments it was pushed rakishly askew, and when despair seized the author it was plucked wholly off, and cast upon the floor, and cast upon the floor. At such times the intruder silently withdrew, and not until the red bow was seen gaily erect upon the gifted brow, did anyone dare address Jo.
She did not think herself a genius by any means, but when the writing fit came on, she gave herself up to it with entire abandon, and led a blissful life, unconscious of want, care, or bad weather, while she sat safe and happy in an imaginary world, full of friends almost as real and dear to her as any in the flesh. Sleep forsook her eyes, meals stood untasted, day and night were all too short to enjoy the happiness which blessed her only at such times, and made these hours worth living, even if they bore no other fruit. The devine afflatus usually lasted a week or two, and then she emerged from her `vortex', hungry, sleepy, cross, or despondent.
She was just recovering from one of these attacks when she was prevailed upon to escort Miss Crocker to a lecture, and in return for her virtue was rewarded with a new idea. It was a People's Course, the lecture on the Pyramids, and Jo rather wondered at the choice of such a subject for such an audience, but took it for granted that some great social evil would be remedied or some great want supplied by unfolding the glories of the Pharaohs to an audience whose thoughts were busy with the price of coal and flour, and whose lives were spent in trying to solve harder riddles than that of the Sphinx.
They were early, and while Miss Crocker set the heel of her stocking, Jo amused herself by examining the faces of the people who occupied the seat with them. On her left were two matrons, with massive foreheads and bonnets to match, discussing Women's Rights and making tatting. Beyond sat a pair of humble lovers, artlessly holding each other by the hand, a somber spinster eating peppermints out of a paper bag, and an old gentleman taking his preparatory nap behind a yellow bandanna. On her right, her only neighbor was a studious looking lad absorbed in a newspaper.
It was a pictorial sheet, and Jo examined the work of art nearest her, idly wondering what fortuitous concatenation of circumstances needed the melodramatic illustration of an Indian in full war costume, tumbling over a precipice with a wolf at his throat, while two infuriated young gentlemen, with unnaturally small feet and big eyes,were stabbing each other close by, and a disheveled female was flying away in the background with her mouth wide open. Pausing to turn a page, the lad saw her looking and, with boyish good nature offered half his paper, saying bluntly, "want to read it? That's a first-rate story."
Jo accepted it with a smile, for she had never outgrown her liking for lads, and soon found herself involved in the usual labyrinth of love, mystery, and murder, for the story belonged to that class of light literature in which the passions have a holiday, and when the author's invention fails, a grand catastrophe clears the stage of one half the dramatis personae, leaving the other half to exult over their downfall.
"Prime, isn't it?" asked the boy, as her eye went down the last paragraph of her portion.
"I think you and I could do as well as that if we tried," returned Jo, amused at his admiration of the trash.
"I should think I was a pretty lucky chap if I could. She makes a good living out of such stories, they say." And he pointed to the name of Mrs. S.L.A.N.G. Northbury, under the title of the tale.
"Do you know her?" asked Jo, with sudden interest.
"No, but I read all her pieces, and I know a fellow who works in the office where this paper is printed." "Do you say she makes a good living out of stories like this?" And Jo looked more respectfully at the agitated group and thickly sprinkled exclamation points that adorned the page.
"Guess she does! She knows just what folks like, and gets paid well for writing it."
Here the lecture began, but Jo heard very little of it, for while Professor Sands was prosing away about Belzoni, Cheops, scarabei, and hieroglyphics, she was covertly taking down the address of the paper, and boldly resolving to try for the hundred-dollar prize offered in its columns for a sensational story. By the time the lecture ended and the audience awoke, she had built up a splendid fortune for herself (not the first founded on paper), and was already deep in the concoction of her story, being unable to decide whether the duel should come before the elopement or after the murder.
She said nothing of her plan at home, but fell to work next day, much to the disquiet of her mother, who always looked a little anxious when `genius took to burning'. Jo had never tried this style before, contenting herself with very mild romances for THE SPREAD EAGLE. Her experience and miscellaneous reading were of service now, for they gave her some idea of dramatic effect, and supplied plot, language, and costumes. Her story was as full of desperation and despair as her limited acquaintance with those uncomfortable emotions enabled her to make it, and having located it in Lisbon, she wound up with an earthquake, as a striking and appropriate denouement. The manuscript was privately dispatched, accompanied by a note, modestly saying that if the tale didn't get the prize, which the writer hardly dared expect, she would be very glad to receive any sum it might be considered worth.
Six weeks is a long time to wait, and a still longer time for a girl to keep a secret, but Jo did both, and was just beginning to give up all hope of ever seeing her manuscript again, when a letter arrived which almost took her breath away, for on opening it, a check for a hundred dollars fell into her lap. For a minute she stared at it as if it had been a snake, then she read her letter and began to cry. If the amiable gentleman who wrote that kindly note could have known what intense happiness he was giving a fellow creature, I think he would devote his leisure hours, if he has any, to that amusement, for Jo valued the letter more than the money, because it was encouraging, and after years of effort it was so pleasant to find that she had learned to do something, though it was only to write a sensation story.
A prouder young woman was seldom seen than she, when, havingcomposed herself, she electrified the family by appearing before them with the letter in one hand, the check in the other, announcing that she had won the prize. Of course there was a great jubilee, and when the story came everyone read and praised it, though after her father had told her that the language was good, the romance fresh and hearty, and the tragedy quite thrilling, he shook his head, and said in his unworldly way...
"You can do better than this, Jo. Aim at the highest, and never mind the money."
"I think the money is the best part of it. What will you do with such a fortune?" asked Amy, regarding the magic slip of paper with a reverential eye.
"Send Beth and Mother to the seaside for a month or two," answered Jo promptly.
To the seaside they went, after much discussion, and though Beth didn't come home as plump and rosy as could be desired, she was much better, while Mrs. March declared she felt ten years younger. So Jo was satisfied with the investment of her prize money, and fell to work with a cheery spirit, bent on earning more of those delightful checks. She did earn several that year, and began to feel herself a power in the house, for by the magic of a pen, her `rubbish' turned into comforts for them all. The Duke's Daughter paid the butcher's bill, A Phantom Hand put down a new carpet, and the Curse of the Coventrys proved the blessing of the Marches in the way of groceries and gowns.
Wealth is certainly a most desirable thing, but poverty has its sunny side, and one of the sweet uses of adversity is the genuine satisfaction which comes from hearty work of head or hand, and to the inspiration of necessity, we owe half the wise, beautiful, and useful blessings of the world. Jo enjoyed a taste of this satisfaction, and ceased to envy richer girls, taking great comfort in the knowledge that she could supply her own wants, and need ask no one for a penny.
Little notice was taken of her stories, but they found a market, and encouraged by this fact, she resolved to make a bold stroke for fame and fortune. Having copied her novel for the fourth time, read it to all her confidential friends, and submitted it with fear and trembling to three publishers, she at last disposed of it, on condition that she would cut it down one third, and omit all the parts which she particularly admired.
"Now I must either bundle it back in to my tin kitchen to mold, pay for printing it myself, or chop it up to suit purchasers and get what I can for it. Fame is a very good thing to have in the house, but cash is more convenient, so I wish to take the sense of the meeting on this important subject," said Jo, calling a family council.
"Don't spoil your book, my girl, for there is more in it than you know, and the idea is well worked out. Let it wait and ripen," was her father's advice, and he practiced what he preached, having waited patiently thirty years for fruit of his own to ripen, and being in no haste to gather it even now when it was sweet and mellow.
"It seems to me that Jo will profit more by taking the trial than by waiting," said Mrs. March. "Criticism is the best test of such work, for it will show her both unsuspected merits and faults, and help her to do better next time. We are too partial, but the praise and blame of outsiders will prove useful, even if she gets but little money."
"Yes," said Jo, knitting her brows, "that's just it. I've been fussing over the thing so long, I really don't know whether it's good, bad, or indifferent. It will be a great help to have cool, impartial persons take a look at it, and tell me what they think of it."
"I wouldn't leave a word out of it. You'll spoil it if you do, for the interest of the story is more in the minds than in the actions of the people, and it will be all a muddle if you don't explain as you go on," said Meg, who firmly believed that this book was the most remarkable novel ever written.
"But Mr. Allen says, `Leave out the explanations, make it brief and dramatic, and let the characters tell the story'," interrupted Jo, turning to the publisher's note.
"Do as he tells you. He knows what will sale, and we don't. Make a good, popular book, and get as much money as you can. By-and-by, when you've got a name, you can afford to digress, and have philosophical and metaphysical people in your novels," said Amy, who took a strictly practical view of the subject.
"Well," said Jo, laughing, "if my people are `philosophical and metaphysical', it isn't my fault, for I know nothing about such things, except what I hear father say;, sometimes. If I've got some of his wise ideas jumbled up with my romance, so much the better for me. Now, Beth, what do you say?"
"I should so like to see it printed soon," was all Beth said, and smiled in saying it. But there was an unconscious emphasis on the last word, and a wistful look in the eyes that never lost their childlike candor, which chilled Jo's heart for a minute with a forboding fear, and decided her to make her little venture `soon'.
So, with Spartan firmness, the young authoress laid her first-born on her table, and chopped it up as ruthlessly as any ogre. In the hope of pleasing everyone, she took everyone's advice, and like the old man and his donkey in the fable suited nobody.
Her father liked the metaphysical streak which had unconsciously got into it, so that was allowed to remain though she had her doubts about it. Her mother thought that there was a trifle too much description. Out, therefore it came, and with it many necessary links in the story. Meg admired the tragedy, so Jo piled up the agony to suit her, while Amy objected to the fun, and, with the best intentions in life, Jo quenched the spritly scenes which relieved the somber character of the story. Then, to complicate the ruin, she cut it down one third, and confidingly sent the poor little romance, like a picked robin, out into the big, busy world to try its fate.
Well, it was printed, and she got three hundred dollars for it, likewise plenty of praise and blame, both so much greater than she expected that she was thrown into a state of bewilderment from which it took her some time to recover.
"You said, Mother, that criticism would help me. But how can it, when it's so contradictory that I don't know whether I've written a promising book or broken all the ten commandments?" cried poor Jo, turning over a heap of notices, the perusal of which filled her with pride and joy one minute, wrath and dismay the next. "This man says, `An exquisite book, full of truth, beauty, and earnestness.
All is sweet, pure, and healthy.'" continued the perplexed authoress. "The next, `The theory of the book is bad, full of morbid fancies, spiritualistic ideas, and unnatural characters.' Now, as I had no theory of any kind, don't believe in Spiritualism, and copied my characters from life, I don't see how this critic can be right. Another says, `It's one of the best American novels which has appeared for years.' (I know better than that), and the next asserts that `Though it is original, and written with great force and feeling, it is a dangerous book.' 'Tisn't! Some make fun of it, some overpraise, and nearly all insist that I had a deep theory to expound, when I only wrote it for the pleasure and the money. I wish I'd printed the whole or not at all, for I do hate to be so misjudged."
Her family and friends administered comfort and commendation liberally. Yet it was a hard time for sensitive, high-spirited Jo, who meant so well and had apparently done so ill. But it did her good, for those whose opinion had real value gave her the critism which is an author's best education, and when the first soreness was over, she could laugh at her poor little book, yet believe in it still, and feel herself the wiser and stronger for the buffeting she had received.
"Not being a genius, like Keats, it won't kill me," she said stoutly, "and I've got the joke on my side, after all, for the parts that were taken straight out of real life are denounced as impossible and absurd, and the scenes that I made up out of my own silly head are pronounced `charmingly natural, tender, and true'. So I'll comfort myself with that, and when I'm ready, I'll up again and take another."

第二十七章文学课

　　乔突然交上了好运，她的生活道路上落下了幸运钱币。尽管未必是金币，但我怀疑五十万块钱也换不来她以这种方式得到的一小笔钱所带给她的快乐。
　　每隔几星期，她就把自己关在屋里，穿上她的涂抹工作服，像她自己说的，"掉进漩涡"，一门心思地写起小说来。小说一天没写完，她就一天不得安宁，她的"涂抹服"是一条黑色的羊毛围裙，可以随意在上面擦拭钢笔。还有一顶同样质地的帽子，上面装饰着一个怡人的红蝴蝶结，一旦准备动手写作，她便把头发束进蝴蝶结里。在家人好奇的眼里，这顶帽子是个信号，在乔写作的这段时间里，她们离她远远的，只是偶尔饶有兴趣地伸头探问："乔，来灵感了吗？"即便这样，她们也不敢贸然发问，只是观察帽子的动静，并由此作出判断。若是这个富有表现力的服饰低低地压在前额，那表明她正在苦苦思索；写到激动时，帽子便时髦地斜戴着；文思枯竭时，帽子便给扯下来了。在这种时刻，谁闯进屋子都得默然而退，不到那天才的额头上竖起欢快的蝴蝶结，谁也不敢和乔说话。
　　她根本不把自己看作天才，然而一旦来了写作冲动，她便全部身心投入进去。她活得极快乐，一旦坐下来进入她的想象世界，便感到平安、幸福--在那里有许多和现实生活中一样亲切的、活生生的朋友，令她意识不到贫困、忧虑，甚至糟糕的天气。她废寝忘食，因为享受这种快乐的时光太短了，而只有在这个时候，她才感到幸福，感到活得有意义，尽管这段时间她没做出别的什么。这种天才的灵感通常要持续一两个星期，然后，她从她的"漩涡"里冒出头来，又饿又困，脾气暴躁，要么便心灰意懒。
　　有一回，她刚从这样的一次发作中恢复过来，便被劝说陪伴克罗克小姐去听一个讲座。作为对她善行的回报，这次听课使她产生了个新想法。这是为教徒开的课程，讲座是关于金字塔的。乔弄不清为什么对这样的听众选这样的主题。可她想当然地认定，这些满脑子想着煤炭、面粉价格的听众们，成日里要解开的谜比斯芬克司提出的更难，对他们展示法老们的荣耀，能够大大减少社会的弊端，满足他们贪婪的欲求。
　　她们去早了。乘克罗克小姐调正长统袜跟的时候，乔打量着坐在她们周围的人们的面孔，以此消遣。她的左边坐着两个家庭主妇，硕大的额头配着宽大的帽子。她们一边编着织物，一边讨论着妇女权利问题。再过去，坐着一对谦恭的情人，毫不掩饰地手拉着手；一个忧郁的老处女正从纸袋里拿薄荷糖吃；一个老先生盖着黄头巾打盹，作好听课准备。乔的右边，她唯一的邻座是个看上去很好学的小伙子，正在专心地读着报纸。
　　那是张画报，乔观赏着靠近她一面的艺术画儿。画面上，一个身着全套战服的印第安人跌倒在悬岩边，一只狼正扑向她的咽喉。附近两位愤怒的年轻绅士正在互相厮杀，他俩的脚小得出奇，眼睛却大得出奇。背景中一个披头散发的女人大张着嘴正奔跑着想逃开。乔悠闲地想着到底是怎样一种不幸的事件，需要如此夸张地渲染。小伙子停下来翻画页时，见乔也在看，便递给她半张，直率地说："想看看？那可是一流的故事。"乔微笑着接过来，她喜欢小伙子们，年龄增长也改变不了。很快乔就埋头干这类故事常有的错综复杂的爱情情节、神秘事件和凶杀中去了。这个故事属于那种热情奔放的通俗文学。当作家智穷力竭时，便来一场大灾难，去掉舞台上一半的剧中人物，让那另一半人物为这些人的覆灭幸灾乐祸。
　　"棒极了，是不是？"小伙子问。乔还在扫视着这半张报纸的最后一段。
　　"我看，假如要写的话，你我同样能写这么好，"乔回答道，她为小伙子赞赏这种无聊的作品感到可笑。
　　"要是我能写的话，就太幸运了。听说她写这种故事赚了很多钱。"他指着故事标题下的姓名，Ｓ．Ｌ．Ａ．Ｎ．Ｇ．诺思布里夫人。
　　"你认识她？"乔突然来了兴趣。
　　"不，她的作品我都读过。我认识的一个朋友就在印这份报纸的地方工作。""你是说她写这种故事赚了很多钱？"乔看着布满报纸的惊叹号和令人揪心的这几个人，有些起敬了。
　　"我想是的！她晓得人们爱看什么，写这些能赚好多钱。"这时，讲座开始了，乔几乎一个字都没听进去。当桑兹教授啰啰嗦嗦地讲贝尔佐尼、基奥普斯、圣甲虫雕饰物和象形文字时，她偷偷摸摸地抄下了报纸的地址。报纸征集轰动一时的故事，并提供一百美元的奖金。乔决心大胆一试。等到讲座结束，听众醒来时，她已为自己积聚了一笔可观的财富（这不是第一次从报纸上挣的）。她沉浸在故事的策划中，只是拿不定决斗场面放在私奔前还是放在谋杀后。
　　回到家，她只字没提她的计划。第二天立即开始工作，这使妈妈非常不安，因为，"天才冒火花"时，妈妈看上去总是有点焦虑。乔以前从未写过这种风格的东西，为《展翼鹰》报写这种非常柔和的浪漫传奇，她洋洋自得。她的戏剧表演经验和广博的阅读现在派上了用场，这使她掌握了一些戏剧效果，并为她提供了情节、语言及服装。她的故事里充满了绝望和沮丧，因为她有限的几个熟人中有着这种使人非常难受的情绪，她也就在故事里予以体现。故事的场景设在里斯本，以一场地震结束，这样的结局出人意料，却又合情合理。她悄悄地寄走了手稿，并附上便条，谦虚地声称如果中不了奖，这故事值多少钱就给她多少钱，她会很高兴的。她没敢想过中奖。
　　六个月的等待是很长的一段时间，一个女孩子要保密，六个月就显得更长了。但是，乔既等了，又守住了秘密。她开始放弃再见到手稿的希望了。这时，来了一封信，使她人吃一惊。因为，一打开信封，一张一百元支票便落在了她的膝盖上。有那么一会儿，她盯着支票看，好像那是条蛇。然后，她读了信，哭了起来，假如那位可爱的先生早知道他写的这样一封客套信会给他的同胞带来这样强烈的幸福，我想，他一有空闲时间，便会全用来写信了。乔把那封信看得比钱还重，因为信给了他鼓励，而且在多年努力之后，终于发现自己学会了某些事情，真让她高兴，尽管只写了个有点耸人听闻的故事。
　　当乔平静下来后，一手拿着信，一手拿着支票，出现在家人面前，宣布她已获奖的时候，人们很难见到比乔更得意的年轻女人了。全家人一下子震惊不已，当然更少不了狂欢庆祝。故事发出来后，每个人都读了，并大加赞赏。爸爸对她说，故事语言不错，爱情表现得生动、热烈，悲剧扣人心弦。然后他超然地摆着头说--"你能写点更好的东西，乔。瞄准最高的目标，千万别去在乎钱。""我倒是觉得这件事最好的部分是钱。这么多钱你将怎么花呢？"艾美虔诚地看着这张具有魔力的支票问道。
　　"送贝思和妈妈到海边过一两个月，"乔即刻回答。
　　"啊，太妙了！不，我不能去，亲爱的，那样太自私了，"贝思叫了起来。她拍了拍纤弱的手，深吸了口气，好像渴望着新鲜的海风，然后停下来，推开了姐姐在她面前挥动的支票。
　　"哦，你得去，就这么定了。我写故事就为这个，因此才会成功。我只想着自己时，从来干不好事情，你看，为写作挣钱也成全了我自己，对吗？而且，妈咪也需要换换空气，她不会丢开你，所以你一定得去。等你长胖了回来，面色红润，那该多好！乔医生万岁！她总能治好她的病人！"反复讨论后，她们终于去了海边。回来时尽管贝思没有像希望的那样长胖，面色变红，但身体感觉好多了。而马奇太太声称她感到年轻了十岁。因此，乔对她的奖金投资很满意，情绪饱满地又开始写作，一心要多挣些令人愉快的支票。
　　那一年，她确实挣了不少，并开始意识到自己在家中的分量。
　　因为通过笔的魔力，她的"废话"使全家人过得很舒适。《公爵之女》付了买肉钱，《幽灵的手》铺下了一条新地毯，《考文垂的咒语》让马奇一家过上了丰衣足食的小康生活。
　　财富的确是人们非常渴望的，然而贫穷也有它光明的一面。逆境的好处之一是人们从自己艰苦卓绝的奋斗中感到真正的愉快。我们存在于世间的智慧、美丽与能力，有一半得之于困境的激励。乔沉醉于这种愉快的感觉中，不再羡慕那些有钱的女孩。她知道她能不向别人要一分钱而为自己提供需要的一切，从中她获得巨大的安慰。
　　小说并未引起多大的注意，但销路不错。她为之鼓舞，决心为名利大胆一搏。她把小说抄了四遍，念给她所有的知心朋友听，怀着一颗惴惴不安的心寄给了三个出版商。小说终于被接受了，不过条件是得删去三分之一，其中还有那些自己最为得意的地方。
　　"现在，我必须要么把小说塞回我那蹩脚的灶间加工一下，然后自费出版；要么按出版商的要求将它删短，得我那一份钱。对这个家来说，出名声是件好事，可有钱更合宜，所以我想听听你们对这件大事的意见，"乔说着召开了家庭会议。
　　"别把书弄毁了，我的姑娘，这故事还有你没想到的含意，而且，故事构思得不错。放一放，等待时机成熟吧。"这是爸爸的建议，他躬行己言，三十多年来，一直耐心等待着自己人生的果实成熟，即使如今已瓜果飘香，他也并不急于收获。
　　"依我看，试一试比等待更有利，"马奇太太说道，"评论是这种事情最好的检验，能指出她未曾料到的价值和不足之处，促使她下次写得更好。我们的意见过于偏袒她，可是外人对她的褒贬会有用的，即使她得不到什么钱。""是的。"乔皱起了眉头。"情况就是这样。这么长时间我一直忙着这个故事，我真的不知道它是好是坏，还是没有多大意思。让人不带偏见地谈一谈，告诉我他们的意见，将对我大有帮助。""假如是我，一个字也不删，你要是删了就会毁了它。故事里面人物的思想比行动更让人感兴趣。如果一直写下去不加解释，会让人摸不着头脑，"梅格说，她坚持这是个最最出色的小说。
　　"可是艾伦先生说：'去掉解释，使故事简洁、戏剧化，让人物说故事。'"乔提起出版商的意见，打断了梅格。
　　"照他说的做，他知道什么有销路，我们却不知道。写本好的畅销书，尽可能地赚钱。渐渐地你就会有名气，就能够改变风格，写一些理性的、玄奥的人物，"艾美说，对这件事她的看法的确实用。
　　"喔，"乔说着笑起来，"要是我的人物是'理性的、玄奥的'，那不是我的错，我对那些一窍不通，只是有时听爸爸谈起。要是我的传奇故事里能掺进些爸爸的博学思想，对我来说更好。哎，贝思，你怎么看？""我就是希望故事快点印出来。"贝思笑着只说了这一句话，她无意中加重了"快点"这两个字的语气，眼神里流露出渴望。她的眼睛里总有一股孩子般的率真。听了她的话，乔心里一阵发冷，一种不祥的预感使她打定主意"快点"小试一番。
　　就这样，带着斯巴达式的吃苦耐劳精神，年轻的女作家将她的处女作放在桌上，像神话中的吃人妖魔一样不留情地开始大加删改。为了让家人高兴，每个人的意见她都采纳了，就像老人和驴那则寓言所说的那样，结果谁也不中意。
　　爸爸喜欢那作品无意带上的玄奥特色，因此，尽管乔有疑虑，还是保留了这些。妈妈认为描述部分确实多了些，就这么着，连同许多必要的环节，全给删掉了。梅格欣赏悲剧部分，所以乔大肆渲染痛苦以合她的心意。而艾美不赞成逗乐，乔便好心好意地扼杀了用来点缀故事中严肃人物的欢快场面。她还砍掉了故事的三分之一，就这样完全把它毁了。这个可怜的小传奇故事就像一只拔了毛的知更鸟，乔深信不疑地将它交付给热闹的大千世界去碰碰运气。
　　还不错，印出来了。乔得了三百美元，同时也得到了许多赞扬和批评。她没料到有这么多意见，一下陷入迷惑之中，好一段时间不能自拔。
　　"妈，你说过，评论能帮助我。可评论太矛盾了，搞得我不晓得到底是写了本挺不错的书，还是破了十诫，这样能帮我吗？"可怜的乔翻阅着一叠评论大声叫着。她时而充满自信、快乐，时而愤怒、沮丧。"这个人说：'一本绝妙的书，充满真善美。一切都那么美好、纯净、健康。'"困惑的女作家接着读，"下一个：'书的理论不好，满是令人毛骨悚然的幻想、精神主义至上的念头，以及怪异的人物。'你瞧我没有任何理论，我也不相信精神主义至上论，我的人物来自生活，我认为这个评论家怎也不能说是对。另一个这么说：'这是美国近年来出版的最杰出的小说之一'（我知道得更清楚）；'再下一个断言：'这是本危险的书，尽管它内容新颖，写得有气势，有激情。'可不是嘛！一些人嘲笑它，一些人吹捧它，几乎所有的人都坚信我想阐述一种深奥的理论，可是我写它只是为了玩儿，为了钱。我真希望没删节全部印出来，不然不如不樱真讨厌被人误评。"家人和朋友们都极力劝慰她，可是对精神高尚、生性敏感的乔来说，这是件十分难受的事。她显然是好心却干出了错事。然而，这件事对她还是有益的，那些有价值的批评意见使作者受到了最好的教益，最初的难受劲过去后，她就能自嘲那本可怜的小书了，而且仍不乏自信。虽然遭受了打击，她感到自己更聪明、更有力了。
　　"我不是济慈那样的天才，但这又有何妨！"她勇敢地说，"毕竟，我也有笑他们的地方。我取材于现实生活的部分被贬毁为不可能，荒唐。而我傻脑袋里编出来的场景却被赞誉为'自然、温柔、真实，具有魅力'。所以，我可以用这些安慰自己。等我准备好了，我还会重整齐鼓，写些别的。"

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一二三四五六七~~~

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Chapter Twenty-eight Domestic Experiences

Like most other young matrons, Meg began her married life with the determination to be a model housekeeper. John should find home a paradise, he should always see a smiling face, should fare sumptuously every day, and never know the loss of a button. She brought so much love, energy, and cheerfulness to the work that she could not but succeed, in spite of some obstacles. Her paradise was not a tranquil one, for the little woman fussed, was over-anxious to please, and bustled about like a true Martha, cumbered with many cares. She was too tired, sometimes, even to smile, John grew dyspeptic after a course of dainty dishes and ungratefully demanded plain fare. As for buttons, she soon learned to wonder where they went, to shake her head over the carelessness of men, and to threaten to make him sew them on himself, and see if his work would stand impatient and clumsy fingers any better than hers.
They were very happy, even after they discovered that they couldn't live on love alone. John did not find Meg's beauty diminished, though she beamed at him from behind the familiar coffee pot. Nor did Meg miss any of the romance from the daily parting, when her husband followed up his kiss with the tender inquiry, "Shall I send some veal or mutton for dinner, darling?" The little house ceased to be a glorified bower, but it became a home, and the young couple soon felt that it was a change for the better. At first they played keep-house, and frolicked over it like children. Then John took steadily to business, feeling the cares of the head of a family upon his shoulders, and Meg laid by her cambric wrappers, put on a big apron, and fell to work, as before said, with more energy than discretion.
While the cooking mania lasted she went through Mrs. Cornelius's Receipt Book as if it were a mathematical exercise, working out the problems with patience and care. Sometimes her family were invited in to help eat up a too bounteous feast of successes, or Lotty would be privately dispatched with a batch of failures, which were to be concealed from all eyes in the convenient stomachs of the little Hummels. An evening with John over the account books usually produced a temporary lull in the culinary enthusiasm, and a frugal fit would ensue, during which the poor man was put through a course of bread pudding, hash, and warmed-over coffee, which tried his soul, although he bore it with praiseworthy fortitude. Before the golden mean was found, however, Meg added to her domestic possessions what young couples seldom get on long without, a family jar.
Fired a with housewifely wish to see her storeroom stocked with homemade preserves, she undertook to put up her own currant jelly. John was requested to order home a dozen or so of little pots and an extra quantity of sugar, for their own currants were ripe and were to be attended to at once. As John firmly believed that `my wife' was equal to anything, and took a natural pride in her skill, he resolved that she should be gratified, and their only crop of fruit laid by in a most pleasing form for winter use. Home came four dozen delightful little pots, half a barrel of sugar, and a small boy to pick the currants for her. With her pretty hair tucked into a little cap, arms bared to the elbow, and a checked apron which had a coquettish look in spite of the bib, the young housewife fell to work, feeling no doubts about her success, for hadn't she seen Hannah do it hundreds of times? The array of pots rather amazed her at first, but John was so fond of jelly, and the nice little jars would look so well on the top shelf, that Meg resolved to fill them all, and spend a long day picking, boiling, straining, and fussing over her jelly. She did her best, she asked advice of Mrs. Cornelius, she racked her brain to remember what Hannah did that she left undone, she reboiled, resugared, and restrained, but that dreadful stuff wouldn't `jell'.
She longed to run home, bib and all, and ask Mother to lend her a hand, but John and she had agreed that they would never annoy anyone with their private worries, experiments, or quarrels. They had laughed over that last word as if the idea it suggested was a most preposterous one, but they had held to their resolve, and whenever they could get on without help they did so, and no one interfered, for Mrs. March had advised the plan. So Meg wrestled alone with the refractory sweetmeats all that hot summer day, and at five o'clock sat down in her topsy-turvey kitchen, wrung her bedaubed hands, lifted up her voice and wept.
Now, in the first flush of the new life, she had often said, "My husband shall always feel free to bring a friend home whenever he likes. I shall always be prepared. There shall be no flurry, no scolding, no discomfort, but a neat house, a cheerful wife, and a good dinner. John, dear, never stop to ask my leave, invite whom you please, and be sure of a welcome from me."
How charming that was, to be sure! John quite glowed with pride to hear her say it, and felt what a blessed thing it was to have a superior wife. But, although they had had company from time to time, it never happened to be unexpected, and Meg had never had an opportunity to distinguish herself till now. It always happens so in this vale of tears, there is an inevitability about such things which we can only wonder at, deplore, and bear as we best can.
If John had not forgotten all about the jelly, it really would have been unpardonable in him to choose that day, of all the days in the year, to bring a friend home to dinner unexpectedly. Congratulating himself that a handsome repast had been ordered that morning, feeling sure that it would be ready to the minute, and indulging in pleasant anticipations of the charming effect it would produce, when his pretty wife came running out to meet him, he escorted his friend to his mansion, with the irrepressible satisfaction of a young host and husband.
It is a world of disappointments, as John discovered when he reached the Dovecote. the front door usually stood hospitably open. Now it was not only shut, but locked, and yesterday's mud still adorned the steps. The parlor windows were closed and curtained, no picture of the pretty wife sewing on the piazza, in white, with a distracting little bow in her hair, or a bright-eyed hostess, smiling a shy welcome as she greeted her guest. Nothing of the sort, for not a soul appeared but a sanginary-looking boy asleep under the current bushes.
"I'm afraid something has happened. Step into the garden, Scott, while I look up Mrs. Brooke," said John, alarmed at the silence and solitude.
Round the house he hurried, led by a pungent smell of burned sugar, and Mr. Scott strolled after him, with a queer look on his face. He paused discreetly at a distance when Brooke disappeared, but he could both see and hear, and being a bachelor, enjoyed the prospect mightily.
In the kitchen reigned confusion and despair. One edition of jelly was trickled from pot to pot, another lay upon the floor, and a third was burning gaily on the stove. Lotty, with Teutonic phlegm, was calmly eating bread and currant wine, for the jelly was still in a hopelessly liquid state, while Mrs. Brooke, with her apron over her head, sat sobbing dismally.
"My dearest girl, what is the matter?" cried John, rushing in, with awful visions of scalded hands, sudden news of affliction, and secret consternation at the thought of the guest in the garden.
"Oh, John, I am so tired and hot and cross and worried! I've been at it till I'm all worn out. Do come and help me or I shall die!" And the exhausted housewife cast herself upon his breast, giving him a sweet welcome in every sense of the word, for her pinafore had been baptized at the same time as the floor.
"What worries you dear? Has anything dreadful happened?" asked the anxious John, tenderly kissing the crown of the little cap, which was all askew.
"Yes," sobbed Meg despairingly.
"Tell me quick, then. Don't cry. I can bear anything better than that. Out with it, love." "The...The jelly won't jell and I don't know what to do!"
John Brooke laughed then as he never dared to laugh afterward, and the derisive Scott smiled involuntarily as he heard the hearty peal, which put the finishing stroke to poor Meg's woe.
"Is that all? Fling it out of the window, and don't bother any more about it. I'll buy you quarts if you want it, but for heaven's sake don't have hysterics, for I've brought Jack Scott home to dinner, and..."
John got no further, for Meg cast him off, and clasped her hands with a tragic gesture as she fell into a chair, exclaiming in a tone of mingled indignation, reproach, and dismay...
"A man to dinner, and everything in a mess! John Brooke, how could you do such a thing?"
"Hush, he's in the garden! I forgot the confounded jelly, but it can't be helped now," said John, surveying the prospect with an anxious eye.
"You ought to have sent word, or told me this morning, and you ought to have remembered how busy I was," continued Meg petulantly, for even turtledoves will peck when ruffled.
"I didn't know it this morning, and there was no time to send word, for I met him on the way out. I never thought of asking leave, when you have always told me to do as I liked. I never tried it before, and hang me if I ever do again!" added John, with an aggrieved air.
"I should hope not! Take him away at once. I can't see him, and there isn't any dinner."
"Well, I like that! Where's the beef and vegetables I sent home, and the pudding you promised?" cried John, rushing to the larder.
"I hadn't time to cook anything. I meant to dine at Mother's. I'm sorry, but I was so busy," and Meg's tears began again.
John was a mild man, but he was human, and after a long day's work to come home tired, hungry, and hopeful, to find a chaotic house, an empty table, and a cross wife was not exactly conductive to repose of mind or manner. He restrained himself however, and the little squall would have blown over, but for one unlucky word.
"It's a scrape, I acknowledge, but if you will lend a hand, we'll pull through and have a good time yet. Don't cry, dear, but just exert yourself a bit, and fix us up something to eat. We're both as hungry as hunters, so we shan't mind what it is. Give us the cold meat, and bread and cheese. We won't ask for jelly."
He meant it to be a good-natured joke, but that one word sealed his fate. Meg thought it was too cruel to hint about her sad failure, and the last atom of patience vanished as he spoke.
"You must get yourself out of the scrape as you can. I'm too used up to `exert' myself for anyone. It's like a man to propose a bone and vulgar bread and cheese for company. I won't have anything of the sort in my house. Take that Scott up to Mother's, and tell him I'm away, sick, dead, anything. I won't see him, and you two can laugh at me and my jelly as much as you like. You won't have anything else here." And having delivered her defiance all on one breath, Meg cast away her pinafore and precipitately left the field to bemoan herself in her own room.
What those two creatures did in her absence, she never knew, but Mr. scott was not taken `up to Mother's', and when Meg descended, after they had strolled away together, she found traces of a promiscuous lunch which filled her with horror. Lotty reported that they had eaten "a much, and greatly laughed, and the master bid her throw away all the sweet stuff, and hide the pots."
Meg longed to go and tell Mother, but a sense of shame at her own short comings, of loyalty to John, "who might be cruel, but nobody should know it," restrained her, and after a summary cleaning up, she dressed herself prettily, and sat down to wait for John to come and be forgiven.
Unfortunately, John didn't come, not seeing the matter in that light. He had carried it off as a good joke with Scott, excused his little wife as well as he could, and played the host so hospitably that his friend enjoyed the impromptu dinner, and promised to come again, but John was angry, though he did not show it, he felt that Meg had deserted him in his hour of need. "It wasn't fair to tell a man to bring folks home any time, with perfect freedom, and when he took you at your word, to flame up and blame him, and leave him in the lurch, to be laughed at or pitied. No, by George, it wasn't! And Meg must know it."
He had fumed inwardly during the feast, but when the flurry was over and he strolled home after seeing Scott off, a milder mood came over him. "Poor little thing! It was hard upon her when she tried so heartily to please me. She was wrong, of course, but then she was young. I must be patient and teach her." He hoped she had not gone home--he hated gossip and interference. For a minute he was ruffled again at the mere thought of it, and then the fear that Meg would cry herself sick softened his heart, and sent him on at a quicker pace, resolving to be calm and kind, but firm, quite firm, and show her where she had failed in her duty to her spouse.
Meg likewise resolved to be `calm and kind, but firm', and show him his duty. She longed to run to meet him, and beg pardon, and be kissed and comforted, as she was sure of being, but, of course, she did nothing of the sort, and when she saw John coming, began to hum quite naturally, as she rocked and sewed, like a lady of leisure in her best parlor.
John was a little disappointed not to find a tender Niobe, but feeling that his dignity demanded the first apology, he made none, only came leisurely in and laid himself upon the sofa with the singularly relevant remark, "We are going to have a new moon, my dear."
"I've no objection," was Meg's equally soothing remark. A few other topics of general interest were introduced by Mr. Brooke and wet-blanketed by Mrs. Brooke, and conversation languished. John went to one window, unfolded his paper, and wrapped himself in it, figuratively speaking. Meg went to the other window, and sewed as if new rosettes for slippers were among the necessaries of life. Neither spoke. Both looked quite `calm and firm', and both felt desperately uncomfortable.
"Oh, dear," thought Meg, "married life is very trying, and does need infinite patience as well as love, as Mother says." The word `Mother' suggested other maternal counsels given long ago, and received with unbelieving protests.
"John is a good man, but he has his faults, and you must learn to see and bear with them, remembering your own. He is very decided, but never will be obstinate, if you reason kindly, not oppose impatiently. He is very accurate, and particular about the truth--a good trait, though you call him `fussy'. Never deceive him by look or word, Meg, and he will give you the confidence you deserve, the support you need. He has a temper, not like ours--one flash and then all over--but the white, still anger that is seldom stirred, but once kindled is hard to quench. Be careful, be very careful, not to wake his anger against yourself, for peace and happiness depend on keeping his respect. Watch yourself, be the first to ask pardon if you both err, and guard against the little piques, misunderstandings, and hasty words that often pave the way for bitter sorrow and regret."

These words came back to Meg, as she sat sewing in the sunset, especially the last. This was the first serious disagreement, her own hasty speeches sounded both silly and unkind, as she recalled them, her own anger looked childish now, and thoughts of poor John coming home to such a scene quite melted her heart. She glanced at him with tears in her eyes, but he did not see them. She put down her work and got up, thinking, "I will be the first to say, `Forgive me', but he did not seem to hear her. She went very slowly across the room, for pride was hard to swallow, and stood by him, but he did not turn his head. For a minute she felt as if she really couldn't do it, then came the thought, This is the beginning. I'll do my part, and have nothing to reproach myself with," and stooping sown, she softly kissed her husband on the forehead. Of course that settled it. The penitent kiss was better than a world of words, and John had her on his knee in a minute, saying tenderly...
"It was too bad to laugh at the poor little jelly pots. Forgive me, dear. I never will again!"
But he did, oh bless you, yes, hundreds of times, and so did Meg, both declaring that it was the sweetest jelly they ever made, for family peace was preserved in that little family jar.
After this, Meg had Mr. Scott to dinner by special invitation, and served him up a pleasant feast without a cooked wife for the first course, on which occasion she was so gay and gracious, and made everything go off so charmingly, that Mr. Scott told John he was a lucky fellow, and shook his head over the hardships of bachelorhood all the way home.
In the autumn, new trials and experiences came to Meg. Sallie Moffat renewed her friendship, was always running out for a dish of gossip at the little house, or inviting `that poor dear' to come in and spend the day at the big house. It was pleasant, for in dull weather Meg often felt lonely. All were busy at home, John absent till night, and nothing to do but sew, or read, or potter about. So it naturally fell out that Meg got into the way of gadding and gossiping with her friend. Seeing Sallie's pretty things made her long for such, and pity herself because she had not got them. Sallie was very kind, and often offered her the coveted trifles, but Meg declined them, knowing that John wouldn't like it, and then this foolish little woman went and did what John disliked even worse.
She knew her husband's income, and she loved to feel that he trusted her, not only with his happiness, but what some men seem to value more--his money. She knew where it was, was free to take what she liked, and all he asked was that she should keep account of every penny, pay bills once a month, and remember that she was a poor man's wife. Till now she had done well, been prudent and exact, kept her little account books neatly, and showed them to him monthly without fear. But that autumn the serpent got into Meg's paradise, and tempted her like many a modern Eve, not with apples, but with dress. Meg didn't like to be pitied and made to feel poor. It irritated her, but she was ashamed to confess it, and now and then she tried to console herself by buying something pretty, so that Sallie needn't think she had to economize. She always felt wicked after it, for the pretty things were seldom necessaries, but then they cost so little, it wasn't worth worrying about, so the trifles increased unconsciously, and in the shopping excursions she was no longer a passive looker-on.
But the trifles cost more than one would imagine, and when she cast up her accounts at the end of the month the sum total rather scared her. John was busy that month and left the bills to her, the next month he was absent, but the third he had a grand quarterly settling up, and Meg never forgot it. A few days before she had done a dreadful thing, and it weighed upon her conscience. Sallie had been buying silks, and Meg longed for a new one, just a handsome light one for parties, her black silk was so common, and thin things for evening wear were only proper for girls. Aunt March usually gave the sisters a present of twenty-five dollars apiece at New Year's. That was only a month to wait, and here was a lovely violet silk going at a bargain, and she had the money, if she only dared to take it. John always said what was his was hers, but would he think it right to spend not only the prospective five-and-twenty, but another five-and-twenty out of the household fund? That was the question. Sallie had urged her to do it, had offered to lend the money, and with the best intentions in life had tempted Meg beyond her strength. In an evil moment the shopman held up the lovely, shimmering folds, and said, "A bargain, I assure, you, ma'am." She answered, "I'll take it," and it was cut off and paid for, and Sallie had exulted, and she had laughed as if it were a thing of no consequence, and driven away, feeling as if she had stolen something, and the police were after her.
When she got home, she tried to assuage the pangs of remorse by spreading forth the lovely silk, but it looked less silvery now, didn't become her, after all, and the words `fifty dollars' seemed stamped like a pattern down each breadth. She put it away, but it haunted her, not delightfully as a new dress should, but dreadfully like the ghost of a folly that was not easily laid. When John got out his books that night, Meg's heart sank, and for the first time in her married life, she was afraid of her husband. The kind, brown eyes looked as if they could be stern, and though he was unusually merry, she fancied he had found her out, but didn't mean to let her know it. The house bills were all paid, the books all in order. John had praised her, and was undoing the old pocketbook which they called the `bank', when Meg, knowing that it was quite empty, stopped his hand, saying nervously...
"You haven't seen my private expense book yet."
John never asked to see it, but she always insisted on his doing so, and used to enjoy his masculine amazement at the queer things women wanted, and made him guess what piping was, demand fiercely the meaning of a hug-me-tight, or wonder how a little thing composed of three rosebuds, a bit of velvet, and a pair of strings, could possibly be a bonnet, and cost six dollars. That night he looked as if he would like the fun of quizzing her figures and pretending to be horrified at her extravagance, as he often did, being particularly proud of his prudent wife.
The little book was brought slowly out and laid down before him. Meg got behind his chair under pretense of smoothing the wrinkles out of his tired forehead, and standing there, she said, with her panic increasing with every word . ..
"John, dear, I'm ashamed to show you my book, for I've really been dreadfully extravagant lately. I go about so much I must have things, you know, and Sallie advised my getting it, so I did, and my New Year's money will partly pay for it, but I was sorry after I had done it, for I knew you'd think it wrong in me."
John laughed, and drew her round beside him, saying goodhumoredly, "Don't go and hide. I won't beat you if you have got a pair of killing boots. I'm rather proud of my wife's feet, and don't mind if she does pay eight or nine dollars for her boots, if they are good ones."
That had been one of her last `trifles', and John's eye had fallen on it as he spoke. "Oh, what will he say when he comes to that awful fifty dollars!" thought Meg, with a shiver.
"It's worse than boots, it's a silk dress," she said, with the calmness of desperation, for she wanted the worst over.
"Well, dear, what is the `dem'd total', as Mr. Mantalini says?"
That didn't sound like John, and she knew he was looking up at her with the straightforward look that she had always been ready to meet and answer with one as frank till now. She turned the page and her head at the same time, pointing to the sum which would have been bad enough without the fifty, but which was appalling to her with that added. For a minute the room was very still, then John said slowly--but she could feel it cost him an effort to express no displeasure--. . .
"Well, I don't know that fifty is much for a dress, with all the furbelows and notions you have to have to finish it off these days."
"It isn't made or trimmed," sighed Meg, faintly, for a sudden recollection of the cost still to be incurred quite overwhelmed her.
"Twenty-five yards of silk seems a good deal to cover one small woman, but I've no doubt my wife will look as fine as Ned Moffat's when she gets it on,"said John dryly.
"I know you are angry, John, but I can't help it. I don't mean to waste your money, and I didn't think those little things would count up so. I can't resist them when I see Sallie buying all she wants, and pitying me because I don't. I try to be contented, but it is hard, and I'm tired of being poor."
The last words were spoken so low she thought he did not hear them, but he did, and they wounded him deeply, for he had denied himself many pleasures for Meg's sake. She could have bitten her tongue out the minute she had said it, for John pushed the books away and got up, saying with a little quiver in his voice, "I was afraid of this. I do my best, Meg." If he had scolded her, or even shaken her, it would not have broken her heart like those few words. She ran to him and held him close, crying, with repentant tears, "Oh, John, my dear, kind, hard-working boy. I didn't mean it! It was so wicked, so untrue and ungrateful, how could I say it! Oh, how could I say it!" He was very kind, forgave her readily, and did not utter one reproach, but Meg knew that she had done and said a thing which would not be forgotten soon, although he might never allude to it again. She had promised to love him for better or worse, and then she, his wife, had reproached him with his poverty, after spending his earnings recklessly. It was dreadful, and the worst of it was John went on so quietly afterward, just as if nothing had happened, except that he stayed in town later, and worked at night when she had gone to cry herself to sleep. A week or remorse nearly made Meg sick, and the discovery that John had countermanded the order for his new greatcoat reduced her to a state of despair which was pathetic to behold. He had simply said, in answer to her surprised inquiries as to the change, "I can't afford it, my dear."
Meg said no more, but a few minutes after he found her in the hall with her face buried in the old greatcoat, crying as if her heart would break.
They had a long talk that night, and Meg learned to love her husband better for his poverty, because it seemed to have made a man of him, given him the strength and courage to fight his own way, and taught him a tender patience with which to bear and comfort the natural longings and failures of those he loved.
Next day she put her pride in her pocket, went to Sallie, told the truth, and asked her to buy the silk as a favor. The good- natured Mrs. Moffat willingly did so, and had the delicacy not to make her a present of it immediately afterward. Then Meg ordered home the greatcoat, and when John arrived, she put it on, and asked him how he liked her new silk gown. One can imagine what answer he made, how he received his present, and what a blissful state of things ensued. John came home early, Meg gadded no more, and that greatcoat was put on in the morning by a very happy husband, and taken off at night by a most devoted little wife. So the year rolled round, and at midsummer there came to Meg a new experience, the deepest and tenderest of a woman's life.
Laurie came sneaking into the kitchen of the Dovecote one Saturday, with an excited face, and was received with the clash of cymbals, for Hannah clapped her hands with a saucepan in one and the cover in the other.
"How's the little mamma? Where is everybody? Why didn't you tell me before I came home?" began Laurie in a loud whisper.
"Happy as a queen, the dear! Every soul of `em is upstairs a worshipin'. We didn't want no hurrycanes round. Now you go into the parlor, and I'll send `em down to you," with which somewhat involved reply Hannah vanished, chuckling ecstatically.
Presently Jo appeared, proudly bearing a flannel bundle laid forth upon a large pillow. Jo's face was very sober, but her eyes twinkled, and there was an odd sound in her voice of repressed emotion of some sort.
"Shut your eyes and hold out your arms," she said invitingly.
Laurie backed precipitately into a corner, and put his hands behind him with an imploring gesture. "No, thank you. I'd rather not. I shall drop it or smash it, as sure as fate."
"Then you shan't see your nevvy," said Jo decidedly, turning as if to go.
"I will, I will! Only you must be responsible for damages." And obeying orders, Laurie heroically shut his eyes while something was put into his arms. A peal of laughter from Jo, Amy, Mrs. March, Hannah, and John caused him to open them the next minute, to find himself invested with two babies instead of one.
No wonder they laughed, for the expression of his face was droll enough to convulse a Quaker, as he stood and stared wildly from the unconscious innocents to the hilarious spectators with such dismay that Jo sat down on the floor and screamed.
"Twins, by Jupiter!" was all he said for a minute, then turning to the women with an appealing look that was comically piteous, he added, "Take `em quick, somebody! I'm going to laugh, and I shall drop `em."
Jo rescued his babies, and marched up and down, with one on each are, as if already initiated into the mysteries of babytending, while Laurie laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks.
"It's the best joke of the season, isn't it? I wouldn't have told you, for I set my heart on surprising you, and I flatter myself I've done it," said Jo, when she got her breath.
"I never was more staggered in my life. Isn't it fun? Are they boys? What are you going to name them? Let's have another look. Hold me up, Jo, for upon my life it's one too many for me," returned Laurie, regarding the infants with the air of a big, benevolent Newfoundland looking at a pair of infantile kittens.
"Boy and girl. Aren't they beauties?" said the proud papa, beaming upon the little red squirmers as if they were unfledged angels.
"Most remarkable children I ever saw. Which is which?" and Laurie bent like a well-sweep to examine the prodigies.
"Amy put a blue ribbon on the boy and a pink on the girl, French fashion, so you can always tell. Besides, one has blue eyes and one brown. Kiss them, Uncle Teddy," said wicked Jo.
"I'm afraid they mightn't like it," began Laurie, with unusual timidity in such matters.
"Of course they will, they are used to it now. Do it this minute, sir!" commanded Jo, fearing he might propose a proxy.
Laurie screwed up his face and obeyed with a gingerly peck at each little cheek that produced another laugh, and made the babies squeal.
"There, I knew they didn't like it! That's the boy, see him kick, he hits out with his fists like a good one. Now then, young Brooke, pitch into a man of your own size, will you?" cried Laurie, delighted with a poke in the face from a tiny fist, flapping aimlessly about.
"He's to be named John Laurence, and the girl Margaret, after mother and grandmother. We shall call her Daisey, so as not to have two Megs, and I suppose the mannie will be Jack, unless we find a better name," said Amy, with aunt-like interest.
"Name him Demijohn, and call him Demi for short," said Laurie
"Daisy and Demi, just the thing! I knew Teddy would do it," cried Jo clapping her hands.
Teddy certainly had done it that time, for the babies were `Daisy' and `Demi' to the end of the chapter.

第二十八章家务经验

　　像大多数别的年轻主妇一样，梅格带着当个模范管家的决心，开始了她的婚姻生活。应该让约翰感到家像伊甸园，看到妻子笑脸常开，日子过得豪华舒适，若是衣服上的钮扣掉了，就及时钉上，决不让他察觉。梅格对家务倾注了无数的爱心、精力与诚心，因此，尽管遇到了一些困难，她必然还是会成功。她的伊甸园并不宁静，因为小妇人过分急于讨丈夫欢心。她像个真正的马大，忙忙碌碌，为家事拖累着。有时，她累得甚至笑不出来--吃了美味佳肴，约翰反弄得消化不良，忘恩负义地要求吃清淡饭菜。至于钮扣，她不久就学会惊叹它们又掉到哪儿去了，然后摇头说男人粗心，威胁要让他自己钉，看看他钉的扣子是否更能经得住他笨手笨脚的急扯乱拽。
　　他们非常幸福，即便后来发现光有爱情不能过活。梅格隔着平常的咖啡壶向丈夫微笑。约翰发现妻子姿色未减。梅格也能从日常的分别中领略到浪漫柔情。丈夫吻过她便柔声轻问："亲爱的，晚餐要小牛肉还是要羊肉？"小屋不再是华居，而成了过日子的处所，年轻的夫妇不久就认识到这是好的变化。开始，他们做着过家家的游戏，孩子般地嬉戏着。后来，约翰作为一家之主感到肩膀上责任重大，稳步经起商来。
　　梅格脱下麻纱披肩，系上大围裙，像前面说的那样，不加考虑，干劲十足地投入家务中。
　　趁着对烹调的热衷，她读完了科尼利厄斯夫人的《菜品》，耐心细致地解决烹饪疑难，好像那是数学作业。有时，成功了她便邀请全家人过来帮忙吃掉丰盛的宴席，失败了便私下派洛蒂将食物送给小赫梅尔们去吃，以便掩人耳目。晚间和约翰一起结算家庭收支，这常使她的烹调热情一度止歇，接下来过一阵子节俭日子，那可怜的人儿只能吃到面包布盯大杂烩，喝再加热的咖啡，令她大伤脑筋，尽管他坚毅的忍受力值得称道。可是不久，梅格虽没找到持家的"中庸之道"，却又为家庭财产添了件年轻夫妇非有不可的东西--家用腌坛。
　　带着主妇燃烧的热情，为了贮藏室存满家制食品，梅格着手腌制栗果冻。她让约翰定购一打左右的小坛子，另外买些糖，因为，他们自家的醋栗已经成熟，需要立即处理。约翰坚信"我的妻无所不能"，自然也为她的技艺自豪，他决意满足妻子的愿望，让他们唯一的果实以最悦人的形态贮存起来预备冬用。于是，四打可爱的小坛子、半桶糖给运回来了，还带回个小男孩帮她摘醋栗。年轻的主妇将漂亮的头发束进一顶小帽里，袖子挽到胳膊，系上条格子花围裙，开始了工作。她这条围裙虽说有围嘴，看上去还挺俏。她对成功深信不疑，难道不是见过罕娜做过上百次吗？开始，那一排坛子着实使她吃了一惊，不过约翰非常喜欢吃果冻，橱子顶层放一排可爱的小坛子，看上去也不错。因此，梅格打算把所有的坛子都装满。她花了一整天时间，摘呀，煮呀，滤呀，忙着制她的果冻。她竭尽了全力，向科尼利厄斯夫人的书本讨教，绞尽脑汁想回忆起她没做好的地方罕娜是怎么做的。她重复，重新加糖，重新过滤，然而，那讨厌的东西就是"不结冻"。
　　她真想就这样系着围裙跑回家求妈帮忙。可是她和约翰曾商定决不让他的小家的烦恼、试验、争吵去烦扰家人。争吵一词当时使她们发笑，好像这个词包含的意思荒唐可笑。她们履行了决议，尽量自己解决问题，也没人干预他们，因为这个计划是由马奇太太提议的。梅格只好在那个酷热的复日，与不好对付的蜜饯孤军奋战。到了五点，她坐在乱七八糟的厨房里，绞着一双弄脏了的手，放声大哭起来。
　　梅格刚开始令人兴奋异常的新生活时，总说："只要他高兴，我丈夫什么时候都可以带朋友来家，我会随时都准备好，不会忙乱，不会责怪他，也不会让他感到不舒服。他会看到一个整洁的屋子，一个愉快的妻子，和一顿丰盛的晚餐。约翰，亲爱的，别等着我批准，想请谁就请谁。他们肯定能得到我的欢迎。"的确，那是多么诱人！听到这么说，约翰得意洋洋，有这样优秀的妻子真是福气。然而，尽管他们经常有客人，可是客人们从来没有不期而至，到目前为止，梅格根本就没有机会表现。现实世界总是有这种情况发生，而且不可避免，我们只能惊诧、懊恼，并尽力忍受。
　　一年有那么多天，约翰偏偏选中那一天出人意料地带了一个朋友回家。若不是因为他全忘了果冻的事，实在不可原谅。约翰庆幸早晨定购了一些美食，并且确信这时已经做好了，他沉浸在美妙的期待中：饭菜可口，娇妻跑着前来迎接夫君。带着年轻主人兼丈夫的满足感，他伴随朋友走向自己的宅第。
　　他来到鸽房，大失所望。前门通常是好客地敞开着，现在不仅关着，而且锁上了。台阶上昨日踩上的污泥犹在，客厅的窗户紧团，窗帘拉着，游廊里见不着他身穿白衣、头戴迷人小蝴蝶结、手是做着针线活的漂亮妻子，也见不着眼睛明亮的女主人羞怯地笑迎客人。没有那回事，除了一个粗野小子在醋栗丛下睡觉，屋里没一个人影。
　　"恐怕出了什么事，斯科特，到花园里来，我得去看看布鲁克太太。"约翰被寂静冷落的气氛弄得惊慌起来。
　　随着一股刺鼻的烧焦的糖味，他匆匆绕过屋子。斯科特先生不紧不慢地跟在后面，满脸疑惑。他小心翼翼地和约翰保持一定距离。突然布鲁克消失了，但是斯科特很快既能看见也能听见眼前的一切了。作为一个单身汉，他十分欣赏眼前的景象。
　　厨房里笼罩着混乱与绝望。一种类似果冻的东西从一个坛子滴到另一个坛子。一只坛子躺在地上，还有一只在炉上欢快地烧着。具有条顿民族冷淡气质的洛蒂，正平静地吃着面包，喝着醋栗酒，因为那果冻还只是一种无可奈何的液体状，而布鲁克太太正用围裙捂着头，坐在那里沮丧地抽泣。
　　"我最亲爱的姑娘，出了什么事？"约翰冲进去叫了起来，他看到了妻子烫伤的手，方才知道她的痛苦，真是糟糕的景象。又想到花园里的客人，不由暗地惊惶。
　　"噢，约翰，我真是太累了，又热又躁又急。我一直在弄这果冻，最后筋疲力荆你得帮我一把，不然我要死了！"说着，疲倦之极的主妇一下扑进他的怀里，给了他一个甜蜜的欢迎，这个欢迎很实在，因为，她的围裙和地板同时都受过了洗礼。
　　"亲爱的，啥事让你烦心？发生了什么可怕的事？"约翰焦急地问道，一边温柔地吻着小帽顶，小帽子已经歪到一边了。
　　"是的。"梅格绝望地抽泣着。
　　"那么，快快告诉我，别哭了，再坏的事儿我都能承受，快说出来，我的爱。""那个--那果冻不结冻，我不知道咋办。"约翰·布鲁克大笑起来，那种笑以后再也没敢有过。它给了可怜的梅格痛苦的最后一击，好嘲弄的斯科特听见这开心的笑声也忍不住笑了起来。
　　"就这些？把它们都扔到窗外，别再烦心了，你想要果冻我给你买上几夸脱，看在老天的分上，别这样发作了，我带了杰克·斯科特来吃晚饭，而且--"约翰没说下去，因为梅格一把推开了他，拍着手做了个悲惨的手势，坐进了椅子，用混合着愤怒、责备、沮丧的语调高声叫道--"带人来吃饭，到处乱七八糟！约翰·布鲁克，你怎么能做出这种事？""嘘，他就在花园里！我把这倒霉的果冻给忘了，可现在没法子了。"约翰焦急地看着眼前的这一切。
　　"你本来应该传个话回来，或者早上和我说一声，你本该记住我有多忙，"梅格负气地接着说道。惹恼了的斑鸠也会啄人的。
　　"早上我还不知道呢，况且没时间传话回来，我出去的路上碰到他的。我从未想过要你批准，因为你总说我可以随意带人来。我以前从来没试过。我死也不会再这么做了！"约翰委屈地补了一句。
　　"我倒是希望你不这么做！立刻把他带走，我不见他，也没有晚饭。""好吧，我喜欢这样！我送回来的牛肉和蔬菜在哪？你答应做的布丁又在哪？"约翰叫着，冲向食品柜。
　　"我什么也没时间做，我打算上妈那儿去吃的，对不起，可是我太忙了。"梅格的眼泪又来了。
　　约斡脾气温和，但毕竟是个人。工作了长长的一天回到家，又累又饿，充满希望，可看到的却是乱七八糟的屋子，空荡荡的桌子，加上个焦躁的妻子，这可不利于身心的休息。然而，他还是控制了情绪，要不是又触及那倒运的字眼，这场风景就会平息了。
　　"我承认，是有点麻烦，可是，如果你愿意助一臂之力，我们会克服困难招待好客人，还会很开心的。别哭了，亲爱的，加点儿劲，为我们做些吃的。给我们吃冷肉、面包、奶酪，我们不会要果冻的。"他是想开个善意的玩笑，可那个字眼决定了他的命运。梅格认为，暗示她悲惨的失败太残酷了。他这样一说，梅格忍无可忍了。
　　"你自己想办法解决麻烦吧，我一点儿力气都没有，不能为任何人'加劲'了，这就等于用骨头、粗制面包和奶酪招待客人，我们家不能有这种事情，把那个斯科特带到妈那儿去，和他说我不在家，病了，死了--随你怎么说。我不要见他，你们俩尽可以笑话我，笑话我的果冻，想怎么笑就怎么笑。在这里你们什么也别想吃到。"梅格一口气说完这些具有挑衅味儿的话，扔掉围裙，匆匆撤离阵地，回到卧室独自伤心去了。
　　她不在期间那两个做了些什么，她无从知晓，只是斯科特先生并未给"带到妈那儿去"。他们走后，梅格从楼上下来，发现杯盘狼藉，使她不寒而栗。洛蒂报告他们吃了"很多东西，大笑着，主人让她扔掉所有的甜玩意儿，把坛子收起来。"梅格真想去告诉妈妈，可是，对自己错误的羞耻感，以及对约翰的忠心阻止她这么做。"约翰是有些残酷，可不能让别人知道。"她简单地收拾了一下屋子，打扮得漂漂亮亮，坐下来等待约翰来求她原谅。
　　不幸的是，约翰没来，他没这样看待这件事，和斯科特在一起时他将之视为玩笑，尽可能原谅他的小妻子。他这个主人当得热情周到，结果，他的朋友很欣赏这个即席晚餐，答应以后再来。约翰其实很生气，虽然没有表现出来。他认为是梅格使他陷入了麻烦，然后在他需要帮助时丢弃了他。"让人家随时随地带人回家，相信她的话这样做吧，又发起怒来，责怪人，将人家丢于危难中不顾，让别人嘲笑、可怜。这样不公平，不！确实不公平！梅格得明白这一点。"吃饭时，他怒火中烧。可是送走斯科特，踱步回家时，内心风暴已经平息，一阵温情袭上心头。"可怜的小东西！她尽心尽意想让我高兴，那样做让她难堪。当然，是她错了，可是她太年轻，我得耐心些，教教她。"他希望她没有回娘家--他讨厌闲话和别人的干涉。有那么一会儿，一想到这些他又来了气，接着，又担心梅格会哭坏身子，心就软了下来。他加快了步子，决心平静地、友好地、坚定地、相当坚定地向她指出，她身为妻子错在哪里。
　　梅格同样决心"平静地、友好地、但是坚定地"向他指出做丈夫的职责。她很想跑过来迎接他，请求原谅，让丈夫亲她，安慰她，她肯定他会这么做的。可是，她当然没有这么做。她坐在摇椅里看到约翰过来，便一边摇着，一边做针线，嘴里自然地哼着小调。好像一个坐在华丽客厅里的阔太太。
　　约翰没看到一个温柔、悲伤的尼俄伯，有点失望。但是，自尊心要求对方先致歉，他便没有表态，而是悠闲地迈步进屋，坐进沙发，说了句最贴切不过的话："我们要重新开始，亲爱的。""不反对。"梅格的答话同样镇定。
　　布鲁克先生又提了些大家感兴趣的话头，都让布鲁克太太一泼冷水浇灭了。谈话兴趣减弱了。约翰走到一扇窗户前，头，变形成石后继续流泪。
　　打开报纸，仿佛把自己包了进去。梅格走到另一扇窗前，做起针线，仿佛她拖鞋上的新玫瑰花结在生活必需品之列。谁也不说话，两个人看上去却"平静而坚定"，但却感到非常不舒服。
　　"天哪！"梅格想着，"真像妈妈说的，结了婚的日子真难过，真的既需要爱情，又需要巨大的耐心。""妈妈"一词又让她联想起很早以前母亲给她的其他建议，当时接受时又是怀疑又是抗议。
　　"约翰是个好人，可也有他的缺点。你得学会发现它们，容忍它们，记住你自己也有缺点。他个性很强，但绝不会固执己见，只需你友善地和他讲道理，不要急躁地反对他。他处事顶真，尤其讲求事实，这种性格不坏，尽管你说他'爱小题大作'。梅格，千万别在言语行动上冲撞他，他会给你应有的信任和你所需要的支持。他有脾气，但不像我们那样--一阵火发完，然后烟消云散--他那种沉寂的怒火极少发作，可是势头凶猛，一旦点燃，很难扑灭。小心点，要非常小心，不要引火烧身。太平幸福的生活取决于你对他的尊重、注意，假如你俩都犯了错，你要首先请求原谅，提防不要误解，这些往往导致更大的痛苦与悔恨。"梅格坐在夕阳下做着针线，回想着妈妈的这些话，尤起是后面的话。这是他们的第一次严重分岐。她回忆起自己脱口而出的话，现在听起来又愚蠢，又不友好，她的怒气也是那样孩子气。想到可怜的约翰回家后碰上这么个场面，她心软了。她含着眼泪瞥了他一眼，可是他没有感觉。她放下针线活站起身来，想着："我来第一个说'原谅我'。"可是他似乎没听见。她慢慢地穿过屋子，自尊心难咽这口气呀。她站到他身旁，可是他头也不转。有一刻她感到她好像真没法这样做，随后又想："这是开始，我尽我的责任，这样就没有什么可怪自己的了。"于是，她俯下身，轻轻地在丈夫额上吻了吻。当然，一切都解决了，这悔悟的吻胜过千言万语，约翰马上将她搂在膝上，温柔地说："笑话那些可怜的果冻小坛子太不好了，原谅我，亲爱的，我再也不了。"然而，他还是笑话了，啧啧，是的，笑了上百回。梅格也笑了，两个人却笑说那是他们做的最甜的果冻。因为，那个小小的家用腌坛保住了家庭的和气。
　　这件事过后，梅格特意邀请斯科特先生吃饭，为他端上一道道美味佳肴，不让他感觉女主妇忙得疲惫不堪。在这种时候，她表现得欢乐、优雅，一切进行得顺利、称心。斯科特先生说约翰这家伙真幸福，回家时一路上摇着头感叹单身汉的日子太苦。
　　到了秋天，梅格又有了新的考验的经历。萨莉·莫法特和她恢复了友谊，常跑到小屋来闲谈，或者，邀请"那可怜的人儿"去大房子玩。这使人愉快，因为在天气阴暗的日子，梅格常感到孤独。家人都很忙，约翰到夜里才回来，她自己除了做针线，读书，或者出去逛逛，没多少事可做。结果梅格自然而然地养成了和她的朋友闲谈、闲逛的习惯。她看到萨莉的一些好东西，渴望也能拥有它们，并为自己得不到而感到可怜。萨莉很友好，常提出送给她一些她想要的小玩意儿，可是梅格谢绝了，她知道这样约翰会不高兴。后来，这个傻乎乎的小妇人做了件让约翰更不高兴的事。
　　她知道丈夫的收入，她喜欢这种感觉，丈夫不仅将自己的幸福交付于她，而且将一些男人更看重的东西--钱，也交给了她。她知道钱放在哪儿，可以随意去拿。他只要求她将花出去的每一分钱都记个帐，每月交一次帐单，记住她是个穷人的妻子。到目前为止，她干得不错，精打细算，小帐本记得清清楚楚，每月都毫不担心地拿给他看。然而，那一个秋天，蟒蛇溜进了梅格的伊甸园，像诱惑许多现代夏娃一样诱惑了她，不是用苹果，而是用衣服。梅格不愿被人可怜，也不愿因之顾影自怜。这使她恼火，但又羞于承认这一点，所以她时不时买些可爱的玩意儿，这样萨莉就不会认为她得节约，她以此自慰。买过这些东西后她总是感到不道德，因为这些可爱的玩意儿极少是必需品。可是它们花的钱很少，不值得担心。就这样，不知不觉这些小玩意儿增多了。游览商店时，她也不再是被动的旁观者了。
　　然而，小玩意花费的钱超过了人们的想象。月底结帐时支出总数使她吓坏了。那个月约翰事忙，将帐单丢给了她。第二个月约翰不在家。第三个月约翰做了次季度大结算，那一次梅格永远都忘不了。就在这次结算前几天，梅格做了件可怕的事，这件事重重压在心头，让她良心不安。萨莉一直在买绸衣，梅格渴望有一件新的--只要件淡色的、端庄的、舞会时穿的。她的黑绸衣太普通了，晚上穿的薄绸只适合女孩子穿，每逢过新年，马奇婶婶总是给组妹们每人二十五美元作为礼物。这只要等一个月，而这里有一段可爱的紫罗兰色丝绸线卖，她有买它的钱，只要她敢拿。约翰总是说他的钱也就是她的。可是，不光花掉还未到手的二十五美元，还要从家庭资金里再抽出二十五美元来，约翰会认为对吗？这是个问题。萨莉怂恿她买，提出借给她钱。她的好意诱惑了梅格，使她失去了自制力。在那受诱的关头，那商贩举起了可爱的，熠熠生辉的绸布卷，说道："卖得便宜，我保证，夫人。"她答道："我买。"这样，料子扯了，钱付了，萨莉欢跃起来，梅格也笑着，好像这没有什么了不起，然后坐车离开，心里感到像偷了什么东西，警察在后面追着她。
　　她回到家中，将那可爱的丝绸展开，想以此减轻那一阵阵悔恨的痛苦。可是，这段料子看上去不如先前光鲜了，而且也不适合她了。毕竟，"五十美元"这几个字像一个图案刻在布料的每一道条纹上。她收起布料，脑中却挥之不去，不像一件新衣服那样想起来使她愉快，却像个摆脱不了的蠢头蠢脑的幽灵，令人恐怖。那天晚上，当约翰拿出帐本时，梅格的心往下一沉，结婚以来第一次害怕起丈夫来。那双和善的棕色眼睛看上去似乎会变严厉的，尽管他情绪非常好。她想象他已经发觉她干的事，只是不打算让她知道。家庭开支帐单都付清了，帐本理齐了。约翰称赞了她，又准备打开他们称之为"银行"的旧笔记本，梅格知道那里已没有多少钱了，便按住他的手，紧张地说--"你还没看过我自己的开销帐单呢。"约翰从来就没要看过，但她总是坚持让他看。他看到女人们要的古怪东西时，惊诧不已，她欣赏这种神情。她让她猜"滚边"是什么东西，逼问他"抱紧我"是干什么用的，或者引他惊叹，三个玫瑰花蕾、一块丝绒，再加两条细绳组成的东西竟能成为一顶帽子，而且值五六美元。那天晚上，他一如往常，瞧起来很乐于检查她的开销数字，假装被她的挥霍所吓倒，因为他为他节俭的妻子感到特别的自豪。
　　小帐本慢慢地拿出来，放在他面前。梅格借口为他抚平额头上疲倦的皱纹站到了他椅子的后面。她站在那里说起来，越说越发慌--"约翰，亲爱的，我不好意思让你看帐本，因为我最近挥霍过度，你知道，我常出门，我得有些东西，萨莉建议我买，我就买了。我新年得到的钱将补上一半的开销。我买过便后悔了，我知道你会觉得我做错事了。"约翰笑了起来，他将她搂过身边，温和地说："别走开去躲着我，你要是买了双挤脚的靴子我也不会揍你的。我为我妻子的脚相当自豪，要是靴子不错，就是花了八九美元也别在乎。"那是她最近花钱买的一件"玩意儿"，约翰一边说着，眼睛落在它上面。"哦，他看到那该死的五十美元会怎么说呢？"梅格思忖着，有些胆战。
　　"那比靴子还糟，是绸衣，"她带着绝望后的镇定说着，她想结束最坏的事情。
　　"唔，亲爱的，像曼塔里尼先生说的，'该死的总数'是多少？"这可不像约翰说的话，梅格心中明白。他抬头直视着她，在这之前，她总能随时坦率地正视他的目光。她翻开帐本，同时转过头来，指着那一笔数字，不算那五十美元，数字已经够大的了，加上它，更十分触目惊心。好一阵子，屋里寂静无声，然后约翰慢慢说道--梅格能感到约翰在努力控制着自己，不显出不快来--"哦，我搞不清五十美元买件衣服是不是贵了，而且还要花钱买现时流行的裙饰、小玩意儿才能做成成衣。""还没有做，没装饰呢，"梅格嗫嚅着说。她突然想起料子做成衣服还得花钱，有些不知所措了。
　　"二十五码丝绸包装一个小妇人似乎太多了，但是我毫不怀疑我妻子穿上它会和内德·莫法特的妻子一样漂亮，"约翰冷冰冰地说。
　　"我知道你生气了，约翰，可是我忍不祝我不是有意浪费你的钱，我看萨莉想买什么就买什么，我不能买她便可怜我，我受不了。我试图知足，可是太难了。我厌倦了贫困。"她最后一句话说得很轻，她以为他没听见，可是他听见了，并被深深地刺痛了。为了梅格的缘故，他放弃了许多享乐。她话一出口，恨不能咬掉舌头。约翰推开帐本站起来，声音微微发颤地说道："我就担心这个。我尽力吧，梅格。"即便他责骂她，甚至揍她，也不会像这几句话那样使她这样伤心。她跑过来紧紧抱住他，带着悔恨的泪水哭叫着："哦，约翰，我亲爱的人儿，你那么宽厚、勤勉。我不是那个意思。我太邪恶、太虚伪、太忘恩负义了。我怎么说出那样的话，哦，我怎能那样说！"约翰非常宽厚，当即原谅了她，没说一句责备的话。可是，梅格知道她的所作所为不会很快被忘记的，尽管他再也没提起过。她曾经保证无论如何都会爱他，可是，她作为他的妻子，不在乎地花了他的钱后，却指责他贫穷，太可怕了！
　　最糟糕的是打那以后约翰变得沉默起来，好像什么也没发生，只是在镇上呆的时间更长了，晚上也出去工作，留下梅格一个人哭着入眠。一个星期的悔恨几乎把梅格弄病了。她又发现约翰取消了他新大衣的定货，这使她陷于绝望，那种景象让人看着心酸。她吃惊地问起约翰为什么改变主意，约翰仅仅说了句："我买不起，亲爱的。"梅格没再说什么。几分钟后，约翰发现她在大厅里将脸埋在那件旧大衣里，哭得心都要碎了。
　　那天夜里，他们作了次长谈。梅格懂得了丈夫虽穷却更值得爱。因为，似乎是贫穷将他造就成一个真正的男子汉，贫穷给了他奋斗的力量与勇气，教会他带着温柔的耐心，去容忍他热爱的人们所犯的过失，抚慰他们自然的渴求。
　　第二天，梅格收起自尊心，来到萨莉家，告诉了她实情，请她帮个忙买下那段丝绸。脾气好的莫法特太太欣然应允，并考虑周到地答应不马上就将料子当礼物送回她。然后，梅格买回了大衣。约翰回来时，她穿上大衣，询问约翰可喜欢她的新丝袍。可以想象，约翰是怎样回答的，怎样接受这个礼物的，随后又发生了些什么美妙的事情。约翰回家早了，梅格不再闲逛了。早上，大衣被幸福之至的丈夫穿上，晚上，被忠心耿耿的小妇人脱下。就这样，日子一天天过去了。到了仲夏，梅格有了新的经历--女人一生中印象最深、最充满柔情的经历。
　　一个星期六，劳里满脸激动地溜进鸽屋的厨房，受到了一阵铙钹的欢迎。因为，罕娜一手拿着平底锅，一手拿着锅盖，双手一拍，发出了响声。
　　"小妈妈怎么样？人都在哪？我回家前你为什么不告诉我？"劳里低声问。
　　"那宝贝幸福得像女王，她们都在楼上瞧着呢。我们这里不想刮哝（龙）卷风，你去客厅吧，我去叫她们下来见你，"罕娜含混不清地回答，兴奋地咯咯笑着走开了。
　　不一会，乔出现了，自豪地捧着一个放在大枕头上的法兰绒包裹。她表情严肃，眼睛闪着亮光，语调里夹着克制某种感情的奇怪成份。
　　"闭上眼睛，伸开胳膊，"她诱他说。
　　劳里慌张地退到屋角，将手背到身后恳求："不，谢谢，我宁愿不抱，我会抱掉下来，或者弄碎的，肯定会的。""那你就见不到你的小侄儿，"乔坚决地说，转过身像是要走开。
　　"我抱，我抱，弄坏了你得负责。"于是，劳里服从乔的命令，英勇地闭上了双眼，同时，一样东西放进了他的臂弯。
　　紧接着，乔、艾美、马奇太太、罕娜爆发出一阵大笑，笑声使他睁开了眼睛，发现手里捧的不是一个，而是两个婴孩。
　　难怪她们笑。他脸上的表情滑稽，贵格教徒也会给逗笑的。他满脸惊愕地站在那儿，盯着那两个尚无意识的小东西，又转过来盯着欢闹的观众，就这么看来看去，乔坐到地上，尖声大笑起来。
　　"双胞胎，天哪！"过了一会儿他才说出这么一句。然后他转向妇人们，带着令人发笑的虔诚请求道："快把他们抱走，随便谁，我要笑了，我会把它们笑掉下来的。"约翰救了他的宝宝们。他一手抱着一个，走来走去，好像已经入了门，掌握了照料婴孩的诀窍。而劳里笑得眼泪都流出来了。
　　"这是本季最有趣的笑话，是不是？我不让她们告诉你，一心想让你大吃一惊。我想我已经做到了，"乔喘过起来说道。
　　"我一辈子也没这么吃惊过，太好玩了。都是男孩吗？给他们取什么名字？我再看一眼。乔，扶着我。这确实让我吃惊，受不了，"劳里回答道。他看着两个宝宝，那神情就像一只纽芬兰大狗仁慈地看着一对小猫咪。
　　"一男一女，瞧他们多漂亮！"自豪的爸爸说。他对两个蠕动的红色小东西微笑着，仿佛他们是未长羽毛的天使。
　　"这是我见过的孩子中最出众的。哪个是男孩？哪个是女孩？"劳里弯下腰细看着神童们。
　　"艾美给男孩系了条蓝丝带，女孩系了条红丝带，法国的方式。这样你就能分清了。除此之外，一个有双蓝眼睛，另一个有双棕色眼睛，亲亲他们，特迪叔叔，"乔调皮地说。
　　"恐怕他们不喜欢亲，"劳里开口说，在这种事上，他总是非常腼腆。
　　"他们肯定喜欢。现在他们已经习惯让人亲了。现在就亲吧，先生！"乔命令道，她担心他让别人代劳。
　　劳里苦笑着脸依命行事，他小心翼翼地在每个小脸蛋上啄了一口，又引起一阵笑声，孩子们也给吓哭了。
　　"瞧，我知道他们不喜欢亲！这是个男孩，看他在乱踢，小拳头打出去蛮像回事。好吧，小布鲁克，去攻击和你一般大的人，好吗？"小家伙的小拳头乱挥，戳到劳里的脸上，劳里高兴地叫起来。
　　"给他起名叫约翰·劳伦斯，女孩随她的妈妈和奶奶，叫玛格丽特。我们叫她黛西，这样就不会有两个梅格了。我想，除非能找到一个更好的名字，我们就叫这个男子汉杰克吧，"艾美带着姨娘的那种兴致说道。
　　"叫他德米约翰，简称德米，"劳里说。
　　"黛西和德米--正适合！我就知道劳里能起好名字。"乔拍起手来。
　　特迪那次起的名字当然好。因为，直到本书的最后一章，两个婴孩都一直叫"黛西"、"德米"。

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一二三四五六七~~~

举报只看该作者 30楼发表于: 2013-10-25 0

Chapter Twenty-nine Calls

"Come, Jo, it's time."
"For what?"
"You don't mean to say you have forgotten that you promised to make half a dozen calls with me today?"
"I've done a good many rash and foolish things in my life, but I don't think I ever was mad enough to say I'd make six calls in one day, when a single one upsets me for a week."
"Yes, you did, it was a bargain between us. I was to finish the crayon of Beth for you, and you were to go properly with me, and return our neighbors' visits."
"If it was fair, that was in the bond, and I stand to the letter of my bond, Shylock. There is a pile of clouds in the east, it's not fair, and I don't go."
"Now, that's shirking. It's a lovely day, no prospect of rain, and you pride yourself on keeping; promises, so be honorable, come and do your duty, and then be at peace for another six months."
At that minute Jo was particularly absorbed in dressmaking, for she was mantua-maker general to the family, and took especial credit to herself because she could use a needle as well as a pen. It was very provoking to be arrested in the act of a first tryingon, and ordered out to make calls in her best array on a warm July day. She hated calls of the formal sort, and never made any till Amy compelled her with a bargain, bribe, or promise. In the present instance there was no escape, and having clashed her scissors rebelliously, while protesting that she smelled thunder, she gave in, put away her work, and taking up her hat and gloves with an air of resignation, told Amy the victim was ready.
"Jo March, you are perverse enough to provoke a saint! You don't intend to make calls in that state, I hope," cried Amy, surveying her with amazement.
"Why not? I'm neat and cool and comfortable, quite proper for a dusty walk on a warm day. If people care more for my clothes than they do for me, I don't wish to see them. You can dress for both, and be as elegant as you please. It pays for you to be fine. It doesn't for me, and furbelows only worry me."
"Oh, dear!" sighed Amy, "now she's in a contrary fit, and will drive me distracted before I can get her properly ready. I'm sure it's no pleasure to me to go today, but it's a debt we owe society, and there's no one to pay it but you and me. I'll do anything for you, Jo, if you'll only dress yourself nicely, and come and help me do the civil. You can talk so well, look so aristocratic in your best things, and behave so beautifully, if you try, that I'm proud of you. I'm afraid to go alone, do come and take care of me."
"You're an artful little puss to flatter and wheedle your cross old sister in that way. The idea of my being aristocratic and well-bred, and your being afraid to go anywhere alone! I don't know which is the most absurd. Well, I'll go if I must, and do my best. You shall be commander of the expedition, and I'll obey blindly, will that satisfy you?" said Jo, with a sudden change from perversity to lamblike submission.
"You're a perfect cherub! Now put on all your best things, and I'll tell you how to behave at each place, so that you will make a good impression. I want people to like you, and they would if you'd only try to be a little more agreeable. Do your hair the pretty way, and put the pink rose in your bonnet. It's becoming, and you look too sober in your plain suit. Take your light gloves and the embroidered handkerchief. We'll stop at Meg's, and borrow her white sunshade, and then you can have my dove-colored one."
While Amy dressed, she issued her orders, and Jo obeyed them, not without entering her protest, however, for she sighed as she rustled into her new organdie, frowned darkly at herself as she tied her bonnet strings in an irreproachable bow, wrestled viciously with pins as she put on her collar, wrinkled up her features generally as she shook out the handkerchief, whose embroidery was as irritating to her nose as the present mission was to her feelings, and when she had squeezed her hands into tight gloves with three buttons and a tassel, as the last touch of elegance, she turned to Amy with an imbecile expression of countenance, saying meekly...
"I'm perfectly miserable, but if you consider me presentable, I die happy."
"You're highly satisfactory. turn slowly round, and let me get a careful view." Jo revolved, and Amy gave a touch here and there, then fell back, with her head on one side, observing graciously, "Yes, you'll do. Your head is all I could ask, for that white bonnet with the rose is quite ravishing. Hold back your shoulders, and carry your hands easily, no matter if your gloves do pinch. There's one thing you can do well, Jo, that is, wear a shawl. I can't, but it's very nice to see you, and I'm so glad Aunt March gave you that lovely one. It's simple, but handsome, and those folds over the arm are really artistic. Is the point of my mantle in the middle, and have I looped my dress evenly? I like to show my boots, for my feet are pretty, though my nose isn't."
"You are a thing of beauty and a joy forever," said Jo, looking through her hand with the air of a connoisseur at the blue feather against the golden hair. "Am I to drag my best dress through the dust, or loop it up, please, ma'am?"
"Hold it yup when you walk, but drop it in the house. The sweeping style suits you best, and you must learn to trail your skirts gracefully. You haven't half buttoned one cuff, do it at once. You'll never look finished if you are not careful about the little details, for they make yup the pleasing whole."
Jo sighed, and proceeded to burst the buttons off her glove, in doing up her cuff, but at last both were ready, and sailed away, looking as `pretty as picters', Hannah said, as she hung out of the upper window to watch them.
"Now, Jo dear, the Chesters consider themselves very elegant people, so I want you to put on your best deportment. Don't make any of your abrupt remarks, or do anything odd, will you? Just be calm, cool, and quiet, that's safe and ladylike, and you can easily do it for fifteen minutes," said Amy, as they approached the first place, having borrowed the white parasol and been inspected by Meg, with a baby on each arm.
"Let me see. `Calm, cool, and quiet', yes, I think I can promise that. I've played the part of a prim young lady on the stage, and I'll try it off. My powers are great, as you shall see, so be easy in your mind, my child."
Amy looked relieved, but naughty Jo took her at her word, for during the first call she sat with every limb gracefully composed, every fold correctly draped, calm as a summer sea, cool as a snowbank, and as silent as the sphinx. In vain Mrs. Chester alluded to her `charming novel', and the Misses Chester introduced parties, picnics, the opera, and the fashions. Each and all were answered by a smile, a bow, and a demure "Yes" or "No" with the chill on. In vain Amy telegraphed the word `talk', tried to draw her out, and administered covert pokes with her foot. Jo sat as if blandly unconcious of it all, with deportment like Maud's face, `icily regular, splendidly null'.
"What a haughty, uninteresting creature that oldest Miss March is!" was the unfortunately audible remark of one of the ladies, as the door closed upon their guests. Jo laughed noiselessly all through the hall, but Amy looked disgusted at the failure of her instructions, and very naturally laid the blame upon Jo.
"How could you mistake me so? I merely meant you to be properly dignified and composed, and you made yourself a perfect stock and stone. Try to be sociable at the Lamb's'. Gossip as other girls do, and be interested in dress and flirtations and whatever nonsense comes up. They move in the best society, are valuable persons for us to know, and I wouldn't fail to make a good impression there for anything."
"I'll be agreeable. I'll gossip and giggle, and have horrors and raptures over any trifle you like. I rather enjoy this, and now I'll imitate what is called `a charming girl'. I can do it, for I have May Chester as a model, and I'll improve upon her. See if the Lambs don't say, `What a lively, nice creature that Jo March is!"
Amy felt anxious, as well she might, for when Jo turned freakish there was no knowing where she would stop. Amy's face was a study when she saw her sister skim into the next drawing room, kiss all the young ladies with effusion, beam graciously upon the young gentlemen, and join in the chat with a spirit which amazed the beholder. Amy was taken possession of by Mrs. Lamb, with whom she was a favorite, and forced to hear a long account of Lucretia's last attack, while three delightful young gentlemen hovered near, waiting for a pause when they might rush in and rescue her. So situated, she was powerless to check Jo, who seemed possessed by a spirit of mischief, and talked away as volubly as the lady. A knot of heads gathered about her, and Amy strained her ears to hear what was going on, for broken sentences filled her with curiosity, and frequent peals of laughter made her wild to share the fun. One may imagine her suffering on overhearing fragments of this sort of conversation.
"She rides splendidly. who taught her?"
"No one. She used to practice mounting, holding the reins, and sitting straight on an old saddle in a tree. Now she rides anything, for she doesn't know what fear is, and the stableman lets her have horses cheap because she trains them to carry ladies so well. She has such a passion for it, I often tell her if everything else fails, she can be a horsebreaker, and get her living so."
At this awful speech Amy contained herself with difficulty, for the impression was being given that she was rather a fast young lady, which was her especial aversion. But what could she do? For the old lady was in the middle of her story, and long before it was done, Jo was off again, make more droll revelations and committing still more fearful blunders.
"Yes, Amy was in despair that day, for all the good beasts were gone, and of three left, one was lame, one blind, and the other so balky that you had to put dirt in his mouth before he would start. Nice animal for a pleasure party, wasn't it?"
"Which did she choose?" asked one of the laughing gentlemen, who enjoyed the subject.
"None of them. She heard of a young horse at the farm house over the river, and though a lady had never ridden him, she resolved to try, because he was handsome and spirited. Her struggles were really pathetic. There was no one to bring the horse to the saddle, so she took the saddle to the horse. My dear creature, she actually rowed it over the river, put it on her head, and marched up to the barn to the utter amazement of the old man!"
"Did she ride the horse?"
"Of course she did, and had a capital time. I expected to see her brought home in fragments, but she managed him perfectly, and was the life of the party."
"Well, I call that plucky!" And young Mr. Lamb turned an approving glance upon Amy, wondering what his mother could be saying to make the girl look so red and uncomfortable.
She was still redder and more uncomfortable a moment after, when a sudden turn in the conversation introduced the subject of dress. One of the young ladies asked Jo where she got the pretty drab hat she wore to the picnic and stupid Jo, instead of mentioning the place where it was bought two years ago, must needs answer with unnecessary frankness, "Oh, Amy painted it. You can't buy those soft shades, so we paint ours any color we like. It's a great comfort to have an artistic sister."
"Isn't that an original idea?" cried Miss Lamb, who found Jo great fun.
"That's nothing compared to some of her brilliant performances. There's nothing the child can't do. Why, she wanted a pair of blue boots for Sallie's party, so she just painted her soiled white ones the loveliest shade of sky blue you ever saw, and they looked exactly like satin," added Jo, with an air of pride in her sister's accomplishments that exasperated Amy till she felt that it would be a relief to throw her cardcase at her.
"We read a story of yours the other day, and enjoyed it very much," observed the elder Miss Lamb, wishing to compliment the literary lady, who did not look the character just then, it must be confessed.
Any mention of her `works' always had a bad effect upon Jo, who either grew rigid and looked offended, or changed the subject with a brusque remark, as now. "Sorry you could find nothing better to read. I write that rubbish because it sells, and ordinary people like it. Are you going to New York this winter?'
As Miss Lamb had `enjoyed' the story, this speech was not exactly grateful or complimentary. The minute it was made Jo saw her mistake, but fearing to make the matter worse, suddenly remembered that it was for her to make the first move toward departure, and did so with an abruptness that left three people with half- finished sentences in their mouths.
"Amy, we must go. Good-by, dear, do come and see us. We are pining for a visit. I don't dare to ask you, Mr. Lamb, but if you should come, I don't think I shall have the heart to send you away."
Jo said this with such a droll imitation of May Chester's gushing style that Amy got out of the room as rapidly as possible, feeling a strong desire to laugh and cry at the same time.
"Didn't I do well?" asked Jo, with a satisfied air as they walked away.
"Nothing could have been worse," was Amy's crushing reply. "What possessed you to tell those stories about my saddle, and the hats and boots, and all the rest of it?"
"Why, it's funny, and amuses people. They know we are poor, so it's no use pretending that we have grooms, buy three or four hats a season, and have things as easy and fine as they do."
"You needn't go and tell them all our little shifts, and expose our; poverty in that perfectly unnecessary way. You haven't a bit of proper pride, and never will learn when to hold your tongue and when to speak," said Amy despairingly.
Poor Jo looked abashed, and silently chafed the end of her nose with the stiff handkerchief, as if performing a penance for her misdemeanors.
"How shall I behave here?" she asked, as they approached the third mansion.
"Just as you please. I wash my hands of you," was Amy's short answer.
"Then I'll enjoy myself. The boys are at home, and we'll have a comfortable time. Goodness knows I need a little change, for elegance has a bad effect upon my constitution," returned Jo gruffly, being disturbed by her failure to suit.
An enthusiastic welcome from three big boys and several pretty children speedily soothed her ruffled feelings, and leaving Amy to entertain the hostess and Mr. Tudor, who happened to be calling likewise, Jo devoted herself to the young folks and found the change refreshing. She listened to college stories with deep interest, caressed pointers and poodles without a murmur, agreed heartily that "Tom Brown was a brick," regardless of the improper form of praise, and when one lad proposed a visit to his turtle tank, she went with an alacrity which caused Mamma to smile upon her, as that motherly lady settled the cap which was left in a ruinous condition by filial hugs, bearlike but affectionate, and dearer to her than the most faultless coiffure from the hands of an inspired Frenchwoman.
Leaving her sister to her own devices, Amy proceeded to enjoy herself to her heart's content. Mr. Tudor's uncle had married an English lady who was third cousin to a living lord, and Amy regarded the whole family with great respect, for in spite of her American birth and breeding, she possessed that reverence for titles which haunts the best of us--that unacknowledged loyalty to the early faith in kings which set the most democratic nation under the sun in ferment at the coming of a royal yellow-haired laddie, some years ago, and which still has something to do with the love the young country bears the old, like that of a big son for an imperious little mother, who held him while she could, and let him go with a farewell scolding when he rebelled. But even the satisfaction of talking with a distant connection of the British nobility did not render Amy forgetful of time, and when the proper number of minutes had passed, she reluctantly tore herself from this aristocratic society, and looked about for Jo, fervently hoping that her incorrigible sister would not be found in any position which should bring disgrace upon the name of March.
It might have been worse, but Amy considered it bad. For Jo sat on the grass, with an encampment of boys about her, and a dirty-footed dog reposing on the skirt of her state and festival dress, as she related one of Laurie's pranks to her admiring audience. One small child was poking turtles with Amy's cherished parasol, a second was eating gingerbread over Jo's best bonnet, and a third playing ball with her gloves. but all were enjoying themselves, and when Jo collected her damaged property to go, her escort accompanied her, begging her to come again, "It was such fun to hear about Laurie's larks."
"Capital boys, aren't they? I feel quite young and brisk again after that." said Jo, strolling along with her hands behind her, partly from habit, partly to conceal the bespattered parasol.
"Why do you always avoid Mr. Tudor?" asked Amy, wisely refraining from any comment upon Jo's dilapidated appearance.
"Don't like him, he puts on airs, snubs his sisters, worries his father, a nd doesn't speak respectfully of his mother. Laurie says he is fast, and I don't consider him a desirable acquaintance, so I let him alone."
"You might treat him civilly, at least. You gave him a cool nod, and just now you bowed and smiled in the politest way to Tommy Chamberlain, whose father keeps a grocery store. If you had just reversed the nod and the bow, it would have been right," said Amy reprovingly.
"No, it wouldn't," returned Jo, "I neither like, respect, nor admire Tudor, though his grandfather's uncle's nephew's niece was a third cousin to a lord. Tommy is poor and bashful and good and very clever. I think well of him, and like to show that I do, for he is a gentleman in spite of the brown paper parcels."
"It's no use trying to argue with you," began Amy.
"Not the least, my dear," interrupted Jo, "so let us look amiable, and drop a card here, as the Kings are evidently out, for which I'm deeply grateful."
The family cardcase having done its duty the girls walked on, and Jo uttered another thanksgiving on reaching the fifth house, and being told that the young ladies were engaged.
"now let us go home, and never mind Aunt March today. We can run down there any time, and it's really a pity to trail through the dust in our best bibs and tuckers, when we are tired and cross."
"Speak for yourself, if you please. Aunt March likes to have us pay her the compliment of coming in style, and making a formal call. It's a little thing to do, but it gives her pleasure, and I don't believe it will hurt your things half so much as letting dirty dogs and clumping boys spoil them. Stoop down, and let me take the crumbs off of your bonnet."
"What a good girl you are, Amy!" said Jo, with a repentant glance from her own damaged costume to that of her sister, which was fresh and spotless still. "I wish it was as easy for me to do little things to please people as it is for you. I think of them, but it takes too much time to do them, so I wait for a chance to confer a great favor, and let the small ones slip, but they tell best in the end, I fancy."
Amy smiled and was mollified at once, saying with a maternal air, "Women should learn to be agreeable, particularly poor ones, for they have no other way of repaying the kindnesses they receive. If you'd remember that, and practice it, you'd be better liked than I am, because there is more of you."
"I'm a crotchety old thing, and always shall be, but I'm willing to own that you are right, only it's easier for me to risk my life for a person than to be pleasant to him when I don't feel like it. It's a great misfortune to have such strong likes and dislikes, isn't it?"
"It's a greater not to be able to hide them. I don't mind saying that I don't approve of Tudor any more than you do, but I'm not called upon to tell him so. Neither are you, and there is no use in making yourself disagreeable because he is."
"But I think girls ought to show when they disapprove of young men, and how can they do it except by their manners? Preaching does not do any good, as I know to my sorrow, since I've had Teddie to manage. But there are many little ways in which I can influence him without a word, and I say we ought to do it to others if we can."
"Teddy is a remarkable boy, and can't be taken as a sample of other boys," said Amy, in a tone of solemn conviction, which would have convulsed the `remarkable boy' if he had heard it. "If we were belles, or women of wealth and position, we might do something, perhaps, but for us to frown at one set of young gentlemen because we don't approve of them, and smile upon another set because we do, wouldn't have a particle of effect, and we should only be considered odd and puritanical."
"So we are to countenance things and people which we detest, merely because we are not belles and millionaires, are we? That's a nice sort of morality."
"I can't argue about it, I only know that it's the way of the world, and people who set themselves against it only get laughed at for their pains. I don't like reformers, and I hope you never try to be one."
"I do like them, and I shall be one if I can, for in spite of the laughing the world would never get on without them. We can't agree about that. for you belong to the old set, and I to the new. You will get on the best, but I shall have the liveliest time of it. I should rather enjoy the brickbats and hooting, I think."
"Well, compose yourself now, and don't worry Aunt with your new ideas."
"I'll try not to, but I'm always possessed to burst out with some particularly blunt speech or revolutionary sentiment before her. It's my doom, and I can't help it."
They found Aunt Carrol with the old lady, both absorbed in some very interesting subject, but they dropped it as the girls came in, with a conscious look which betrayed that they had been talking about their nieces. Jo was not in a good humor, and the perverse fit returned, but Amy, who had virtuously done her duty, kept her temper and pleased everybody, was in a most angelic frame of mind. This amiable spirit was felt at once, and both aunts `my deared' her affectionately, looking what they afterward said emphatically, "That child improves every day."
"Are you going to help about the fair, dear?" asked Mrs. Carrol, as Amy sat down beside her with the confiding air elderly people like so well in the young.
"Yes, Aunt. Mrs. Chester asked me if I would, and I offered to tend a table, as I have nothing but my time to give."
"I'm not," put in Jo decidedly. "I hate to be patronized, and the Chesters think it's a great favor to allow us to help with their highly connected fair. I wonder you consented, Amy, they only want you to work."
"I am willing to work. It's for the freedmen as well as the Chesters, and I think it very kind of them to let me share the labor and the fun. Patronage does not trouble me when it is well meant."
"Quite right and proper. I like your grateful spirit, my dear. It's a pleasure to help people who appreciate our efforts. Some do not, and that is trying," observed Aunt March, looking over her spectacles at Jo, who sat apart, rocking herself, with a somewhat morose expression.
If Jo had only known what a great happiness was wavering in the balance for one of them, she would have turned dove-like in a minute, but unfortunately, we don't have windows in our breasts, and cannot see what goes on in the minds of our friends. Better for us that we cannot as a general thing, but now and then it would be such a comfort, such a saving of time and temper. By her next speech, Jo deprived herself of several years of pleasure, and received a timely lesson in the art of holding her tongue.
"I don't like favors, they oppress and make me feel like a slave. I'd rather do everything for myself, and be perfectly independent."
"Ahem!" coughed Aunt Carrol softly, with a look at Aunt March.
"I told you so," said Aunt March, with a decided nod to Aunt Carrol.
Mercifully unconscious of what she had done, Jo sat with her nose in the air, and a revolutionary aspect which was anything but inviting.
"Do you speak French, dear?" asked Mrs. Carrol, laying a hand on Amy's.
"Pretty well, thanks to Aunt March, who lets Esther talk to me as often as I like," replied amy, with a grateful look, which caused the old lady to smile affably.
"How are you about languages?" asked Mrs. Carrol of JO.
"Don't know a word. I'm very stupid about studying anything, can't bear French, it's such a slippery, silly sort of language," was the brusque reply.
Another look passed between the ladies, and Aunt March said to Amy, 'You are quite strong and well no, dear, I believe? Eyes don't trouble you any more, do they?"
"Not at all, thank you, ma'am. I'm very well, and mean to do great things next winter, so that I may be ready for Rome, whenever that joyful time arrives."
"Good girl! You deserve to go, and I'm sure you will some day," said Aunt March, with an approving; pat on the head, as Amy picked up her ball for her.
Crosspatch, draw the latch, Sit by the fire and spin,
squalled Polly, bending down from his perch on the back of her chair to peep into Jo's face, with such a comical air of impertinent inquiry that it was impossible to help laughing.
"Most observing bird," said the old lady.
"Come and take a walk, my dear?" cried Polly, hopping toward the china closet, with a look suggestive of a lump of sugar.
"Thank you, I will. Come Amy." And Jo brought the visit to an end, feeling more strongly than ever that calls did have a bad effect upon her constitution. She shook hands in a gentlemanly manner, but Amy kissed both the aunts, and the girls departed, leaving behind them the impression of shadow and sunshine, which impression caused Aunt March to say, as they vanished...
"You'd better do it, Mary. I'll supply the money. And Aunt Carrol to reply decidedly, "I certainly will, if her father and mother consent."

第二十九章出访

　　"走呀，乔，到时间了。"
　　"做什么？"
　　"你答应今天和我一起走访六家人的，你不会忘了吧？""我这一生是做过许多鲁莽的傻事，可我不会发神经，说我要一天拜访六户人家吧。访一家都让我烦一个星期。""是的，你是说过。那是我俩的协议。我替你完成贝思的铅笔画像，你好好地和我一起去邻居家回访。""假如天气好--协议中有这一条，我严格遵守协议，夏洛克。东边有一大块乌云，天气不好，所以我不去。""你这是偷懒。天气不错，不会下雨的，你不是以守约自豪吗？讲点信用吧，去尽你的义务，然后你又可以安心过六个月。"那一时刻，乔正特别沉迷于缝制衣服。她为全家人做大衣并居功自傲，因为她的针使得和笔一样好。可她正在首次试穿她缝的新衣就给抓差，受命在七月的热天里盛装出访，真叫人光火。她讨厌任何正式的出访，除非艾美和她订协议，贿赂她，或者许愿，如此这般胁她，否则她决不会干的。眼下这种情形是逃脱不掉的了。她恨恨地将剪刀弄出响声，声辩她觉察到了雷雨的迹象，可还是投降了。她收起针线，拿起帽子、手套，告诉艾美她这个遭难者已做好准备。
　　"乔·马奇，你真够倔的，圣人也要被你激怒。我希望你不是打算就这样出访吧？"艾美打量着她，惊叫起来。
　　"怎么不行？我觉得齐整、凉爽、舒适。热天里尘土飞扬的，这样穿戴很合适。要是人们更在乎我的衣服而不是我这个人，我就不愿见他们。你可以尽心尽意打扮得优雅，让人们喜欢你，喜欢你的衣服。你觉得这样挺值，我却不然，裙饰只能让我烦。""哦，天哪！"艾美叹了口气。"她现在处于逆反情绪中，不等我把她弄妥贴，她会让我发狂的。今天出门肯定不会是件好差事。可是，我们欠了社交债呀。除了你我，家里没人去还这笔债。乔，你只需好好打扮一下，帮我回礼，我会为你做任何事的。你很会说话，打扮起来很有贵族气质，举止也很潇洒，只要你乐意。我会为你骄傲的。我害怕一个人去，你一定要和我一起去，照顾我。""你这个小姑娘真有手腕。那样子甜言蜜语哄骗你脾气坏的姐姐。真想得出来，我有贵族气，有教养，你一个人哪也不敢去！真不知哪一个更荒唐。好啦，既然我非得去就去吧，我尽力而为。你来当这次远征的统帅吧，我绝对服从，满意了吗？"乔说，她的态度由倔强突然转变为绵羊似的顺从。
　　"你真是个天使！现在，去穿上你最好的衣服，我会教你做到举止得体的，这样你就会给人留下好印象。我希望别人喜欢你，而你只要试着随和一点，就能让人喜欢，头发弄漂亮点，帽子上放一朵粉红色玫瑰。你穿着素净衣服看上去太严肃了，这样相称些。带上你的淡黄手套和绣花手绢。我们在梅格家停一下，把她的白阳伞借来，这样，你就可以用我那把鸽灰色阳伞了。"艾美一边打扮，一边发着命令，乔不无抗议地服从着。她叹着气，窸窸窣窣地穿上她的新玻璃纱衣，皱着眉，将帽带系成个无可挑剔的结。她手忙脚乱地弄着别针，戴上领结，扯出手绢时，全身衣服都给扯皱了。手绢上的刺绣让她鼻子很不舒服，就像眼前的出访使命让她一样难受。作为优雅打扮的最后装饰，她将手挤进了那双有三个钮扣和流苏的手套。她转向艾美，脸上带着憨憨的表情，谦恭地说--"我太痛苦了，可你要是觉得我这样能拿得出去，我死而无憾。""你太让人满意了。慢慢转过来，让我仔细瞧瞧。"乔转了个身，艾美这里修一下，那里补一下，然后后退一步，歪着头宽厚地打量着她。"行，能行。你的头打扮得最合我意。
　　红玫瑰点缀着白帽子真是迷人。挺起肩来，别管手套是不是挤手，手放自如些。你再加件东西会更好，乔。也就是，围条披肩--我围着不好，你围合适。真高兴，马奇婶婶把那条可爱的披肩给你了。它虽然朴素，可是很好看，落在胳膊上的褶子真是风雅。你看我斗篷上的针绣花边在不在中间？我衣服可扣整齐了？我想让人看看我的靴子，因为，我的脚确实很美，尽管我的鼻子不理想。""你是个美丽的小东西，永远快乐，"乔说。她带着权威的神气透过手看着艾美插在金发上的蓝色羽饰。"请问夫人，我是把好衣服放下来扫着尘地，还是卷起来？""走路的时候就卷起来，进了屋子就放下来。裙褶拖曳的风格最适合你，你得学着优雅地拖着裙裾。你一只袖口没全扣上，赶快扣上。要是不注意这些细节，你根本不会完美的，悦人的整体形象就是由细节组成的。"乔叹了口气，开始扣袖子，手套上的扣子差点给绷掉。两个人终于打扮完毕上路了。罕娜从楼上窗户探出身子看着她们，说她俩"漂亮得像图中人"。
　　"哎，乔，亲爱的，切斯特一家以为她们非常优雅，所以，我想让你拿出最好的风度来。别说你那些粗暴的话，别做怪事，好不好？只要沉着、冷静、镇定--那样保险，又有女士风度，你很容易在十五分钟内做到这些的，"艾美说。她们已去过梅格家，借了白阳桑梅格一手抱一个孩子检查了她们的装扮。现在她们已到了要访问的第一家。
　　"我想想。'沉着、冷静、镇定'--好的，我想可以答应你。我在舞台上扮演过一个古板的年轻女士，我来试试。你会看到，我很有能耐的。脑子放松一些，我的孩子。"艾美松了口气。调皮的乔奉行了她的话。在第一家，她坐在那儿，四肢放得优雅舒适，裙褶垂到恰到好处。她平静得像夏天的海，冷得像大雪堆，沉默得像狮身人面像。切斯特夫人提到她的"动人的小说"，切斯特小姐们挑起话头，谈舞会、野餐、歌剧以及服装款式，均告无效。乔要么笑笑，要么点点头，再不就严肃地说声"是"、"不"，以此回答所有的问题，让人扫兴。艾美向她传去"说话"的指令，试图把她从这种状态中拖出来，还用脚偷偷踹她，还是不起作用。乔无动于衷地坐在那里好像什么也不知道，举止如同莫德的脸："匀称却冷冰冰，没有表情却光彩照人。""马奇家大小姐多么高傲又令人乏味啊！"送走客人关上门，一个小姐评论道，不幸给客人听见了。乔无声地笑着穿过大厅，可是艾美为她的指挥失误怄着气，自然怪罪起来乔来。
　　"你怎么能这样误解我的意思？我只是要你表现得端庄、稳重，可你整个儿一个木头疙瘩。到兰姆家可要随和些了。你要像别的女孩们那样闲聊，对服装、调笑、管它什么废话都要表现出兴趣。她们出入于上流社会，认识她们对我们很有用。我无论如何都要给她们留下好印象。""我会放随和些的，我会闲聊，傻笑，听到你喜欢的任何琐事都惊叹狂呼。我很喜欢那样。现在，我得模仿所谓的'迷人的女孩'，有梅·切斯特做样板，我再改进些，是能做好的。等着瞧，兰姆一家会说：'乔·马奇多么可爱、迷人呀！'"艾美完全有理由着急，因为一旦乔异想天开起来，不知道她什么时候才能收得祝艾美看着她姐姐轻快地走进下一个客厅，热情奔放地亲吻了所有的年轻女士，优雅地朝年轻先生们微笑，兴致勃勃地加入了闲聊，这种情绪使艾美这个旁观者大为惊讶，她一脸困惑。兰姆太太占住了艾美。她很喜欢艾美，迫使艾美听她长篇大论地讲述卢克丽霞的最后反抗，同时，三个愉快的年轻先生守候在近处，等着兰姆太太一住口，就冲上去救艾美出来。在这种情形下，艾美无力制止乔。乔似乎被淘气的精灵缠住了，她像兰姆老太一样滔滔不绝，说个不停。好几个脑袋围着她，艾美竖起耳朵想听听她在说什么，因为断断续续的话语使她充满疑惧，圆睁的眼睛和上举的手折磨着她的好奇心，不断的笑声使她极想分享乐趣。听听这种谈话的评断，我们可以想像出艾美的痛苦。
　　"她马骑得特棒--谁教她的？"
　　"没人教。她过去常在安在一棵树上的旧马鞍上练习上马、握缰、骑马。现在，她什么都敢骑，她不知道什么叫害怕。马夫给她马骑，要价便宜，因为她把马驯得服服贴贴，让女士骑没问题。她骑马的热情太大，我常对她说，假如她做别的事不成，可以当个驯马师来谋生。"听到这种糟糕的话，艾美很难克制住自己了，因为，这种话给人留下她是荡妇的印象，而这又是她特别讨厌的。可是，她能怎么办呢？老太太故事刚说了一半。就在故事还远远没结束的时候，乔又开始了，讲出更可笑的秘密，出现了更可怕的错。
　　"是的，艾美那天真是倒霉，所有的好马都不在，留下来三匹，一匹跛，一匹瞎，还有一匹太顽劣，往它嘴里塞泥它才走。游园会用这种马不错，是不是？""她选了哪一匹呢？"一个先生笑着问，他喜欢这个话题。
　　"一匹也没眩她听说河对面农家有一匹好马，又精神又漂亮，虽然还没有女士骑过它，艾美决定一试。那场斗争真是悲壮，没人给马上鞍，她自己上。我的天哪！她竟然带着马划过了河，给马上鞍，来到谷仓，使老头大大吃了一惊。""她骑那马了吗？""当然。她玩得非常开心。我还以为她会给弄得残缺不全地送回来呢。可是她完全制服了那马，成了游园会的中心人物。""嗯，那真叫有胆量！"小兰姆先生赞许地瞥了一眼艾美，奇怪她妈妈说些什么，把那女孩羞得满脸通红，浑身不自在。
　　过了一会儿，谈话突然转了向，谈到衣服问题，艾美的脸更红了，也更不自在了。一个年轻女士询问乔，她去野餐时戴的那顶淡褐色帽子是在哪里买的。傻乎乎的乔不提两年前买帽子的地方，而是毫无必要地坦诚相告："噢，是艾美涂上去的。买不到那些柔和颜色的，所以我们想要什么颜色就涂什么颜色。有一个懂艺术的妹妹是个很大的安慰。""这主意真是新奇！"兰姆小姐叫起来，她发现乔很有趣。
　　"和她做的别的伟绩相比，这算不了什么。没有这孩子干不了的事。瞧，她想要双蓝靴子参加萨莉的舞会，她就把她那双泥乎乎的白靴子涂成最可爱的天蓝色，看上去真像缎子做的，"乔带着对妹妹成就的自豪感补充道，这激怒了艾美，她恨不能用名片盒砸她才解气。
　　"前些日子，我们读了你写的一个故事，非常喜欢，"兰姆大小姐说道，她想恭维文学女士。必须承认，当时这位文学女士看上去一点也没那气质。
　　一提及她的"作品"，总会对乔产生不好的影响，她要么严肃起来，像是谁冒犯了她，要么唐突地转变话题，现在就是这样。"真遗憾你们找不到更好的东西来读，我写那废话是因为它有销路。普通老百姓才喜欢它。今年冬天你去纽约吗？" 因为兰姆小姐"喜欢"这故事，所以乔的话显得不太文雅，也不客气。话一出口，乔便意识到了自己的错误。可是，由于担心把事情弄得更糟，她突然记起该先提出告辞，于是贸然提出要走，使得其他三个人话没说完，噎在了喉咙。
　　"艾美，我们得走了。再见，亲爱的，一定上我们家来玩，盼着你们来访。我不敢请您，兰姆先生。但要是您真的来了，我想我没有胆量打发您走的。"乔滑稽地模仿着梅·切斯特的风格，极动感情地说完那些话。艾美尽快出了屋，搞得哭笑不得。
　　"我干得不错吧？"她们离开时，乔满意地问道。
　　"没有比这更糟的人，"艾美的回答斩钉截铁，"你让什么迷住了，竟说起那些故事来？什么马鞍、帽子、靴子的，还有其他那些？""哎呀，那些好玩，逗人笑。他们知道我们穷，没有必要假装我们有马夫，一季买三四顶帽子，还能像他们那样轻而易举地得到好东西。""你也不必把我们的小计谋告诉他们呀，也没必要那样暴露我们的贫穷。你一点儿正当的自尊都没有，从来不知道什么时候该闭口，什么时候该出言，"艾美绝望地说。
　　可怜的乔感到羞愧了。她默默地用干硬的手绢擦着鼻尖，仿佛在为她干的坏事忏悔。
　　"在这里我该怎么做？"当她们走近第三家时，乔问。
　　"想怎么做就怎么做，我可不管你了，"艾美简短地答道。
　　"那我就会玩得快活罗。那些男孩们在家，我们会很开心的。天知道，我需要点变化了。优雅不适合我的性格，"乔态度生硬地回敬。她老是不能让艾美满意，心中恼火。
　　三个大男孩和几个可爱的小孩子热情地欢迎她，这迅速扫除了她的不快。她由着艾美去和女主人及碰巧同样来访的图德先生应酬，自己则和年轻人们打成了一片。她发现这样的变化使人精神振奋。她怀着极大的兴趣倾听着大学生的故事，一声不吭地抚摸着猎狗和长卷毛狗，完全赞同"汤姆·布朗是条好汉"，也不管这种赞许的不恰当。当一个小伙子提议去看看他的鱼池时，乔欣然从命。她笨拙却充满柔情地拥抱了一下慈爱的夫人，把帽子弄毁了。这顶帽子对她来说非常亲切，有灵感的法国女人做出的头饰也不及它。夫人一边为她整理着帽子，一边不由笑起她来。
　　艾美让乔自行其事，开始自己尽情寻欢了。图德先生的叔叔娶了个英国女士，这位女士是一个还在世的勋爵相隔三代的表妹。艾美非常尊敬这一家人，因为，尽管她生于美国，有着美国的教养，她对爵位还是怀着崇敬之心，这种崇敬萦绕着我们中间优秀分子的脑际--那是一种未被认可的、早先信仰国王的忠诚。几年前，一位皇室的金发女士一踏上这太阳底下最民主的国度，这种忠诚便使得这个国家骚动起来。
　　这个年轻的国家对那些古老的国家所怀有的热爱仍然与这种忠诚相关，如同一个大儿子对一个专横的小妈妈的爱，小妈妈有能力时，拢着儿子，儿子反抗了便责骂着放行。然而，即使心满意足地和英国贵族的远亲攀谈也没能使艾美忘掉时间。她极不情愿地抽身离开这贵族社会，到处寻找乔。她热切希望不会发现她那不可救药的姐姐又处于使马奇姓氏蒙羞的局面。
　　情况本可以说更糟，不过艾美觉得还能接受。乔坐在草地上，身边围了一群男孩，一只爪子脏兮兮的狗横卧在她那条华丽的、节日才穿的裙子上。她正对那群面带羡慕之情的听众叙述劳里的一个恶作剧。一个小孩子用艾美珍爱的阳伞捣弄着乌龟们，另一个把姜饼放在乔最好的帽子上大嚼，还有一个戴着她的手套在玩球。所有的人都很开心。乔收拾起她那些弄毁的财产准备走时，她的护卫送着她，恳求她再来做客："听劳里的玩笑太有趣了。""这些男孩子太棒了，是不是？和他们待过后，我又觉得相当年轻、活泼了，"乔说。她将手放在背后信步走着，一半是习惯使然，另一半是想藏起被溅污的阳桑"你为什么老躲着图德先生？"艾美问。她明智地克制着不评论乔损毁了的形象。
　　"我不喜欢他。他摆架子，斥责他的妹妹们，烦他爸爸，说话不尊重他妈妈。劳里说他放荡。我看他不是个理想的熟人，所以不睬他。""至少，你该待他礼貌些吧。你只对他冷冷地点点头，而刚才你那样彬彬有礼地向汤米·张伯伦弯腰微笑，他爸只是个开杂货店的。你只要把这点头和弯腰掉个个儿，就对了，"艾美责怪道。
　　"不，不对，"倔强的乔回答，"即使图德爷爷的叔叔的侄儿的侄女是一个勋爵的第三代表妹，我也不会喜欢他，更不羡慕他。汤米穷，害羞，可是他善良，非常聪明。我看重地，我愿意表现出来。尽管他和那些牛纸包裹打交道，他还是一个绅士。" "和你争辩没用，"艾美说。
　　"是一点没用，亲爱的，"乔打断了她，"所以，我们放温和些，在这里丢下一张名片，因为很明显金家人不在家，我为此深表谢意。"马奇家名片盒完成使命，两个姑娘继续前进。到达第五家时，她们被告知年轻女士们有约会，乔又谢起恩来。
　　"现在让我们回家吧，今天别去管马奇婶婶了。我们什么时候都能跑到她家去。现在又累又躁，还要拖着最好的一套衣服在泥地里走，真是太遗憾了。""你愿意的话就这样想吧。婶婶喜欢我们打扮入时地正式拜访她，向她表示敬意。这是小事一桩，但却让她快乐。我相信，这不会像那些脏狗和那群男孩子那样弄脏你的衣服，一点也不会。弯下腰来，我替你拿掉帽子上的碎屑。""艾美，你真是个好姑娘！"乔说。她懊恼地瞥了一眼自己弄糟了的衣服，又瞥了一下妹妹的，那衣服依旧干干净净、一尘不染。"我希望我能像你一样轻而易举地做些小事让人喜欢。我想过，但做那些太费时间，所以，我等待机会施舍大恩惠，小事就由它过去了。不过我想，最终还是小事最有效果。"艾美笑了，即刻软了下来，带着母亲般的神情说道："妇女应该学会与人相处，特别是穷妇人，因为没有别的办法来回报别人给你的好处。如果你愿意记住这一点，练习练习，你会比我更惹人喜爱，因为你的好气质更多。""我是个有怪癖的老东西，将来还会是这样，但是我愿意承认你是对的，只是我可以为一个人冒生命危险，但要我违心地讨好一个人我却办不到。我这样强烈地爱憎分明，真是不幸，是不是？""要是不能隐瞒这种感情就更不幸了。我不在乎说出来，和你一样我也不赞成图德，但是，没人请我把这告诉图德，也没人请你。没有必要因为他讨人厌便把自己弄得不受欢迎。""可是我认为，姑娘们在不喜欢某个年轻人的时候应该表露出来。除了用态度还能用什么表露呢？很遗憾，如我所知，说教是无益的，就像我对待特迪那样。但是我有许多小办法，可以用来不加言语地影响他。我说，如果可以的话，我们对其他人也应该这样。""特迪是个出众的男孩，不能用作其他男孩的榜样。"艾美的语调严肃认真、深信不疑。如果那"出众的男孩"听见这句话，一定会大笑不止。"假如我们是美女，或者是有钱有势的女人，也许能做些什么。可是对我们来说，因为不赞成那一帮年轻先生就对他们皱着眉，一点效果也没有。我们只能被人家看作古怪、拘谨。""所以我们就鼓励那些我们讨厌的东西和人，仅仅因为我们不是美女，不是百万富翁，是吗？这种说教真不错。""我辩不了，我只知道这是处世方式。违背它的人反而白白让人嘲笑。我不喜欢改革家，希望你也不要去当改革家。""我就是喜欢改革家，要是能够，我愿当一个改革家。因为尽管受人嘲笑，这世界没有改革家就不能运转。我们俩观点达不成一致。你属于旧派，我属于新派。你按你的方式会过得很好，但我也能过得非常愉快。我想，我倒是欣赏那些指责与呵斥。""好了，安静下来吧。别用你那些新念头去烦婶婶。""我尽量不烦她。可是，在她面前，我总是鬼迷心窍地说出一些特别直率的话，或者生出标新立异的念头。这是我的命，我逃不了。"她们发现卡罗尔婶婶和老太太在一起，两个人正一门心思地谈论着什么非常有趣的事。姑娘们一进门，她们便停下话头，脸上的表情明显表明她们一直在谈论着她们的侄女们。
　　乔心情不好，犟劲又上来了，而艾美善良地尽了自己的责任，忍着气讨大家的欢心。她完全处于一种天使般的心境中，而这种温和可爱的性情马上感染了大家。两个婶婶慈爱地唤她"我亲爱的"，一边用眼色表示她们后来强调的："那孩子每天都有长进。""你要去为交易会帮忙吗，亲爱的？"卡罗尔太太回。艾美带着信任的神情在她身旁坐下，老年人非常喜欢年轻人的这种神情。
　　"是的，婶婶，切斯特夫人问我可愿帮忙。我提出照看一张桌子，因为除了时间，我没什么东西可以给人了。""我可不去，"乔断然插了嘴，"我讨厌受人恩惠。切斯特家人以为，让我们为他们那与上流社会有联系的交易会帮忙是个了不起的恩惠。我不知道你答应了，艾美，他们只想要你干活。""我愿意干活。交易会是为切斯特家办的，也是为自由民的。我觉得他们太客气了，让我也分担工作，分享乐趣。恩惠只要是善意的，就不会烦扰我。""相当正确、恰当。亲爱的，我喜欢你感恩的精神。帮助那些欣赏我们努力的人是件愉快的事，而有些人不欣赏，令人气愤，"马奇婶婶从眼镜上看着乔，评论道。乔皱着眉头坐在摇椅里摇着。
　　要是乔知道巨大的幸福在她和艾美之间晃来晃去难以平衡，而只能降在一个人头上的话，她会迅即变得鸽子般温顺。
　　然而，不幸的是，我们的心灵没有窗户，看不见我们朋友脑中有些什么。在一般的事情上，看不见还好些。可是，看见了时常是莫大的安慰，能节约时间，也能抑制脾气。乔的下一句话剥夺了她几年的快乐，使她及时地领教到了闭嘴的艺术。
　　"我不喜欢恩惠。它们压制我，让我感到像个奴隶。我宁愿一切自己干，完完全全自立。""嗯！"卡罗尔婶婶轻轻咳了咳，看了看马奇婶婶。
　　"我和你这么说过，"马奇婶婶说，她坚定地朝卡罗尔婶婶点了点头。
　　乔神气活现地坐在那里摇着，那态度决非是想引人注目，只是她意识不到她做了些什么，对她倒算是仁慈。
　　"你会说法语吗，亲爱的？"卡罗尔婶婶将手放在艾美身上，问道。
　　"说得不错，多亏马奇婶婶。她让埃丝特尽着我意经常和我说，"艾美带着感激的神色回答，换来了老太太可掬的笑容。
　　"你法语怎么样？"卡罗尔太太问乔。
　　"一个字也不会。我学什么都太笨。我受不了法语，那是种滑溜溜、傻乎乎的语言，"她无礼地答道。
　　两个老太太又交换了一个眼色。马奇婶婶对艾美说："你现在身体相当不错，是吗？眼睛不再难受了，对不对？""一点也不难受了。谢谢您，夫人。我很好。我打算明年冬天干些大事。这样，什么时候那令人高兴的时刻来临，我就可以做好去罗马的准备。""好姑娘！你配去那里，我肯定有一天你能去成的，"马奇婶婶赞许地拍着她的头说，艾美为她拾起了线团。
　　淘气的孩子，插上窗闩，
　　坐在火边，纺着棉纱。
　　鹦哥怪叫起来，它栖息在乔坐的椅子背上，弯着头窥视着乔的脸，无礼的质询神情十分滑稽，让人忍俊不禁。
　　"这鸟观察力真强，"老太太说。
　　"一起去散散步，亲爱的？"鹦哥叫道，它朝瓷器橱跳去，神情暗示着要糖块。
　　"谢谢，我就去。来吧，艾美。"乔结束了拜访，她更强烈地感到出访确实对她的性格不适合。她以绅士般的风度和婶婶们握手道别，而艾美却吻别她们。两个姑娘离开了，身后留下阴影与阳光，这印象使得马奇婶婶在她们背影消失后作出了决定--"你最好干吧，玛丽，我会提供钱的。"接着卡罗尔婶婶坚定地回答："我当然会干，如果她爸爸妈妈同意。"

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一二三四五六七~~~

举报只看该作者 31楼发表于: 2013-10-25 0

Chapter Thirty Conseauences

Mrs. Chester's fair was so very elegant and select that it was considered a great honor by the young ladies of the neighborhood to be invited to take a table, and everyone was much interest in the matter. Amy was asked, but Jo was not, which was fortunate for all parties, as her elbows were decidedly akimbo at this period of her life, and it took a good many hard knocks to teach her how to get on easily. The `haughty, uninteresting creature' was let severely alone, but Amy's talent and taste were duly complimented by the offer of the art table, and she exerted herself to prepare and secure appropriate and valuable contributions to it.
Everything went on smoothly till the day before the fair opened, then there occurred one of the little skirmishes which it is almost impossible to avoid, when some five-and-twenty women, old and young, with all their private piques and prejudices, try to work together.
May Chester was rather jealous of Amy because the latter was a greater favorite than herself, and just at this time several trifling circumstances occurred to increase the feeling. Amy's dainty pen-and-ink work entirely eclipsed May's painted vases--that was one thorn. Then the all conquering Tudor had danced four times with Amy at a late party and only once with May--that was thorn number two. But the chief grievance that rankled in her soul, and gave an excuse for her unfriendly conduct, was a rumor which some obliging gossip had whispered to her, that the March girls had made fun of her at the Lambs'. All the blame of this should have fallen upon Jo, for her naughty imitation had been too lifelike to escape detection, and the frolicsome Lambs had permitted the joke to escape. No hint of this had reached the culprits, however, and Amy's dismay can be imagined, when, the very evening before the fair, as she was putting the last touches to her pretty table, Mrs. Chester, who, of course, resented the supposed ridicule of her daughter, said, in a bland tone, but with a cold look...
"I find, dear, that there is some feeling among the young ladies about my giving this table to anyone but my girls. As this is the most prominent, and some say the most attractive table of all, and they are the chief getters-up of the fair, it is thought best for them to take this place. I'm sorry, but I know you are too sincerely interested in the cause to mind a little personal disappointment, and you shall have another table if you like."
Mrs. Chester fancied beforehand that it would be easy to deliver this little speech, but when the time came, she found it rather difficult to utter it naturally, with Amy's unsuspicious eyes looking straight at her full of surprise and trouble.
"Amy felt that there was something behind this, but would not guess what, and said quietly, feeling hurt, and showing that she did, "Perhaps you had rather I took no table at all?"
"Now, my dear, don't have any ill feeling, I beg. It's merely a matter of expediency, you see, my girls will naturally take the lead, and this table is considered their proper place. I think it very appropriate to you, and feel very grateful for your efforts to make it so pretty, but we must give up our private wishes, of course, and I will see that you have a good place elsewhere. Wouldn't you like the flower table? The little girls undertook it, but they are discouraged. You could make a charmingthing of it, and the flower table is always attractive you know."
"Especially to gentlemen," added May, with a look which enlightened Amy as to one cause of her sudden fall from favor. She colored angrily, but took no other notice of that girlish sarcasm, and answered with unexpected amiability...
"It shall be as you please, Mrs. Chester. I'll give up my place here at once, and attend to the flowers, if you like."
"You can put your own things on your own table, if you prefer," began May, feeling a little conscience-stricken, as she looked at the pretty racks, the painted shells, and quaint illuminations Amy had so carefully made and so gracefully arranged. She meant it kindly, but Amy mistook her meaning, and said quickly . ..
"Oh, certainly, if they are in your way," and sweeping her contributions into her apron, pell-mell, she walked off, feeling that herself and her works of art had been insulted past forgiveness.
"Now she's mad. Oh, dear, I wish I hadn't asked you to speak, Mama," said May, looking disconsolately at the empty spaces on her table.
"Girls' quarrels are soon over," returned her mother, feeling a trifle ashamed of her own part in this one, as well she might.
The little girls hailed Amy and her treasures with delight, which cordial reception somewhat soothed her perturbed spirit, and she fell to work, determined to succeed florally, if she could not artistically. But everything seemed against her. It was late, and she was tired. Everyone was too busy with their own affairs to help her, and the little girls were only hindrances, for the dears fussed and chattered like so many magpies, making a great deal of confusion in their artless efforts to preserve the most perfect order. The evergreen arch wouldn't stay firm after she got it up, but wiggled and threatened to tumble down on her head when the hanging baskets were filled. Her best tile got a splash of water, which left a sephia tear on the Cupid's cheek. She bruised her hands with hammering, and got cold working in a draft, which last affliction filled her with apprehensions for the morrow. Any girl reader who has suffered like afflictions will sympathize with poor Amy and wish her well through her task.
There was great indignation at home when she told her story that evening. Her mother said it was a shame, but told her she had done right. Beth declared she wouldn't go to the fair at all, and Jo demanded why she didn't take all her pretty things and leave those mean people to get on without her.
"Because they are mean is no reason why i should be. I hate such things, and though I think I've a right to be hurt, I don't intend to show it. They will feel that more than angry speeches or huffy actions, won't they, Marmee?"
"That's the right spirit, my dear. A kiss for a blow is always best, though it's not very easy to give it sometimes," said her mother, with the air of one who had learned the difference between preaching and practicing.
In spite of various very natural temptations to resent and retaliate, Amy adhered to her resolution all the next day, bent on conquering her enemy by kindness. She began well, thanks to a silent reminder that came to her unexpectedly, but most opportunely. As she arranged her table that morning, while the little girls were in the anteroom filling the baskets, she took up her pet production, a little book, the antique cover of which her father had found among his treasures, and in which on leaves of vellum she had beautifully illuminated different texts. As she turned the pages rich in dainty devices with very pardonable pride, her eye fell upon one verse that made her stop and think. Framed in a brilliant scrollwork of scarlet, blue and gold, with little spirits of good will helping one another up and down among the thorns and flowers, were the words, "Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself."
"I ought, but I don't," thought Amy, as her eye went from the bright page to May's discontented face behind the big vases, that could not hide the vacancies her pretty work had once filled. Amy stood a minute, turning the leaves in her hand, reading on each some sweet rebuke for all heartburnings and uncharitableness of spirit. Many wise and true sermons are preached us every day by unconscious ministers in street, school, office, or home. Even a fair table may become a pulpit, if it can offer the good and helpful words which are never out of season. Amy's conscience preached her a little sermon from that text, then and there, and she did what many of us do not always do, took the sermon to heart, and straightway put it in practice.
A group of girls were standing about May's table, admiring the pretty things, and talking over the change of saleswomen. They dropped their voices, but Amy knew they were speaking of her, hearing one side of the story and judging accordingly. It was not pleasant, but a better spirit had come over her, and presently a chance offered for proving it. She heard May say sorrowfully...
"It's too bad, for there is no time to make other things, and I don't want to fill up with odds and ends. The table was just complete then. Now it's spoiled."
"I dare say she'd put them back if you asked her," suggested someone.
"How could I after all the fuss?" began May, but she did not finish, for Amy's voice came across the hall, saying pleasantly...
"You may have them, and welcome, without asking, if you want them. I was just thinking I'd offer to put them back, for they belong to your table rather than mine. Here they are, please take them, and forgive me if I was hasty in carrying them away last night."
As she spoke, Amy returned her contribution, with a nod and a smile, and hurried away again, feeling that it was easier to do a friendly thing than it was to stay and be thanked for it.
"Now, I call that lovely of her, don't you?" cried one girl.
May's answer was inaudible, but another young lady, whose temper was evidently a little soured by making lemonade, added, with a disagreeable laugh, "Very lovely, for she knew she wouldn't sell them at her own table."
Now, that was hard. When we make little sacrifices we like to have them appreciated, at least, and for a minute Amy was sorry she had done it, feeling that virtue was not always its won reward. But it is, as she presently discovered, for her spirits began to rise, and her table to blossom under her skillful hands, the girls were very kind, and that one little act seemed to have cleared the atmosphere amazingly.
It was a very long day and a hard one for Amy, as she sat behind her table, often quite alone, for the little girls deserted very soon. Few cared to buy flowers in summer, and her bouquets began to droop long before night.
The art table was the most attractive in the room. There was a crowd about it all day long, and the tenders were constantly flying to and fro with important faces and rattling money boxes. Amy often looked wistfully across, longing to be there, where she felt at home and happy, instead of in a corner with nothing to do. It might seem no hardship to some of us, but to a pretty, blithe young girl, it was not only tedious, but very trying, and the thought of Laurie and his friends made it a real martyrdom.
She did not go home till night, and then she looked so pale and quiet that they knew the day had been a hard one, though she made no complaint, and did not even tell what she had done. Her mother gave her an extra cordial cup of tea. Beth helped her dress,and made a charming little wreath for her hair, while Jo astonished her family by getting herself up with unusual care, and hinting darkly that the tables were about to be turned.
"Don't do anything rude, pray Jo. I won't have any fuss made, so let it all pass and behave yourself," begged Amy, as she departed early, hoping to find a reinforcement of flowers to refresh her poor little table.
"I merely intend to make myself entrancingly agreeable to ever one I know, and to keep them in your corner as long as possible. Teddy and his boys will lend a hand, and we'll have a good time yet." returned Jo, leaning over the gate to watch for Laurie. Presently the familiar tramp was heard in the dusk, and she ran out to meet him.
"Is that my boy?"
"As sure as this is my girl!" And Laurie tucked her hand under his arm with the air of a man whose every wish was gratified.
"Oh, teddy, such doings!" And Jo told Amy's wrongs with sisterly zeal.
"A flock of our fellows are going to drive over by-and-by, and I'll be hanged if I don't make them buy every flower she's got, and camp down before her table afterward," said Laurie, espousing her cause with warmth.
"The flowers are not at all nice, Amy says, and the fresh ones may not arrive in time. I don't wish to be unjust or suspicious, but I shouldn't wonder if they never came at all. When people do one mean thing they are very likely to do another," observed Jo in a disgusted tone.
"Didn't Hayes give you the best out of our gardens? I told him to."
"I didn't know that, he forgot, I suppose, and, as your grandpa was poorly, I didn't like to worry him by asking, though I did want some."
"Now, Jo, how could you think there was any need of asking? They are just as much yours as mine. Don't we always go halves in everything?" began Laurie, in the tone that always made Jo turn thorny.
"Gracious, I hope not! Half of some of your things wouldn't suit me at all. But we mustn't stand philandering here. I've got to help Amy, so you go and make yourself splendid, and if you'll be so very kind as to let Hayes take a few nice flowers up to the Hall, I'll bless you forever."
"Couldn't you do it now?" asked Laurie, so suggestively that Jo shut the gate in his face with inhospitable haste, and called through the bars, "Go away, Teddy, I'm busy."
Thanks to the conspirators, the tables were turned that night, for Hayes sent up a wilderness of flowers, with a loverly basket arranged in his best manner for a centerpiece. Then the March family turned out en masse, and Jo exerted herself to some purpose, for people not only came, but stayed, laughing at her nonsense, admiring Amy's taste, and apparently enjoying themselves very much. Laurie and his friends gallantly threw themselves into the breach, bought up the bouquets, encamped before the table, and made that corner the liveliest spot in the room. Amy was in her element now, and out of gratitude, if nothing more, was as spritely and gracious as possible, coming to the conclusion, about that time, that virtue was it's own reward, after all.
Jo behaved herself with exemplary propriety, and when Amy was happily surrounded by her guard of honor, Jo circulated about the hall, picking up various bits of gossip, which enlightened her upon the subject of the Chester change of base. She reproached herself for her share of the ill feeling and resolved to exonerate Amy as soon as possible. She also discovered what Amy had done about the things in the morning, and considered her a model of magnanimity. As she passed the art table, she glanced over it for her sister's things, but saw no sign of them. "Tucked away out of sight, I dare say," thought Jo, who could forgiver her own wrongs, but hotly resented any insult offered her family.
"Good evening, Miss Jo. How does Amy get on?" asked May with a conciliatory air, for she wanted to show that she also could begenerous.
"She has sold everything she had that was worth selling, and now she is enjoying herself. The flower table is always attractive, you know, `especially to gentlemen'."
Jo couldn't resist giving that little slap, but May took it so meekly she regretted it a minute after, and fell to praising the great vases, which still remained unsold.
"Is Amy's illumination anywhere about" I took a fancy to buy that for Father," said Jo, very anxious to learn the fate of her sister's work.
"Everything of Amy's sold long ago. I took care that the right people saw them, and they made a nice little sum of money for us," returned May, who had overcome sundry small temptations, as well as Amy had, that day.
Much gratified, Jo rushed back to tell the good news, and Amy looked both touched and surprised by the report of May's word and manner.
"Now, gentlemen, I want you to go and do your duty by the other tables as generously as you have by mine, especially the art table," she said, ordering out `Teddy's own', as the girls called the college friends.
"`Charge, Chester, charge!' is the motto for that table, but do your duty like men, and you'll get your money's worth of art in every sense of the word," said the irrepressible Jo, as the devoted phalanx prepared to take the field.
"To hear is to obey, but March is fairer far than May," said little Parker, making a frantic effort to be both witty and tender, and getting promptly quenched by Laurie, who said...
"Very well, my son, for a small boy!" and walked him off, with a paternal pat on the head.
"Buy the vases," whispered Amy to Laurie, as a final heaping of coals of fire on her enemy's head.
To May's great delight, Mr. Laurence not only bought the vases, but pervaded the hall with one under each arm. The other gentlemen speculated with equal rashness in all sorts of frail trifles, and wandered helplessly about afterward, burdened with wax flowers, painted fans, filigree portfolios, and other useful and appropriate purchases.
Aunt Carrol was there, heard the story, looked pleased, and said something to Mrs. March in a corner, which made the latter lady beam with satisfaction, and watch Amy with a face full of mingled pride and anxiety, though she did not betray the cause of her pleasure till several days later.
The fair was pronounced a success, and when May bade Amy goodnight, she did not gush as usual, but gave her an affectionate kiss, and a look which said `forgive and forget'. That satisfied Amy, and when she got home she found the vases paraded on the parlor chimney piece with a great bouquet in each. "The reward of merit for a magnanimous March," as Laurie announced with a flourish.
"You've a deal more principle and generosity and nobleness of character than I ever gave you credit for, Amy. You've behaved sweetly, and I respect you with all my heart," said Jo warmly, as they brushed their hair together late that night.
"Yes, we all do, and love her for being so ready to forgive. It must have been dreadfully hard, after working so long and setting your heart on selling your own pretty things. I don't believe I could have done it as kindly as you did," added Beth from her pillow.
"Why, girls, you needn't praise me so. I only did as I'd be done by. You laugh at me when I say I want to be a lady, but I mean a true gentlewoman in mind and manners, and I try to do it as far as I know how. I can't explain exactly, but I want to be above the little meannesses and follies and faults that spoil so many women. I'm far from it now, but I do my best, and hope in time to be what Mother is."
Amy spoke earnestly, and Jo said, with a cordial hug, "I understand now what you mean, and I'll never laugh at you again. You are getting on faster than you think, and I'll take lessons of you in true politeness, for you've learned the secret, I believe. Try away, deary, you'll get your reward some day, and no one will be more delighted than I shall."
A week later Amy did get her reward, and poor Jo found it hard to be delighted. A letter came from Aunt Carrol, and Mrs. March's face was illuminated to such a degree when she read it that Jo and Beth, who were with her, demanded what the glad tiding were.
"Aunt Carrol is going abroad next month, and wants..."
"Me to go with her!" burst in Jo, flying out of her chair in an uncontrollable rapture.
"No, dear, not you. It's Amy."
"Oh, Mother! She's too young, it's my turn first. I've wanted it so long. It would do me so much good, and be so altogether splendid. I must go!"
"I'm afraid it's impossible, Jo. Aunt says Amy, decidedly, and it is not for us to dictate when she offers such a favor."
"It's always so. Amy has all the fun and I have all the work. It isn't fair, oh, it isn't fair!" cried Jo passionately.
"I'm afraid it's partly your own fault, dear. When Aunt spoke to me the other day, she regretted your blunt manners and too independent spirit, and here she writes, as if quoting something you had said--`I planned at first to ask Jo, but as `favors burden her', and she `hates French', I think I won't venture to invite her. Amy is more docile, will make a good companion for Flo, and receive gratefully any help the trip may give her."
"Oh, my tongue, my abominable tongue! Why can't I learn to keep it quiet?' groaned Jo, remembering words which had been her undoing. When she had heard the explanation of the quoted phrases, Mrs. March said sorrowfully...
"I wish you could have gone, but there is no hope of it this time, so try to bear it cheerfully, and don't sadden Amy's pleasure by reproaches or regrets."
"I'll try," said Jo, winking hard as she knelt down to pick up the basket she had joyfully upset. "I'll take a leaf out of her book, and try not only to seem glad, but to be so, and not grudge her one minute of happiness. But it won't be easy, for it is a dreadful disappointment." And poor Jo bedewed the little fat pincushion she held with several very bitter tears. "Jo, dear, I'm very selfish, but I couldn't spare you, and I'm glad you are not going quite yet," whispered Beth, embracing her, basket and all, with such a clinging touch and loving face that Jo felt comforted in spite of the sharp regret that made her want to box her own ears, and humbly beg Aunt Carrol to burden her with this favor, and see how gratefully she would bear it.
By the time Amy came in, Jo was able to take her part in the family jubilation, not quite as heartily as usual, perhaps, but without repinings at Amy's good fortune. The young lady herself received the news as tidings of great joy, went about in a solemn sort of rapture, and began to sort her colors and pack her pencils that evening, leaving such trifles as clothes, money, and passports to those less absorbed in visions of art than herself.
"It isn't a mere pleasure trip to me, girls," she said impressively, as she scraped her best palette. "It will decide my career, for if I have any genius, I shall find it out in Rome, and will do something to prove it."
"Suppose you haven't?" said Jo, sewing away, with red eyes, at the new collars which were to be handed over to Amy.
"Then I shall come home and teach drawing for my living," replied the aspirant for fame, with philosophic composure. But she made a wry face at the prospect, and scratched away at her palette as if bent on vigorous measures before she gave up her hopes.
"No, you won't. You hate hard work, and you'll marry some rich man, and come home to sit in the lap of luxury all your days," said Jo.
"Your predictions sometimes come to pass, but I don't believe that one will. I'm sure I wish it would, for if I can't be an artist myself, I should like to be able to help those who are," said Amy, smiling, as if the part of Lady Bountiful would suit her better than that of a poor drawing teacher.
"Hum!" said Jo, with a sigh. "If you wish it you'll have it, for your wishes are always granted--mine never."
"Would you like to go?" asked Amy, thoughtfully patting her nose with her knife.
"Rather!"
"Well, in a year or two I'll send for you, and we'll dig in the Forum for relics, and carry out all the plans we've made so many times."
"Thank you. I'll remind you of your promise when that joyful day comes, if it ever does," returned Jo, accepting the vague but magnificent offer as gratefully as she could. "There was not much time for preparation, and the house was in a ferment till Amy was off. Jo bore up very well till the last flutter of blue ribbon vanished, when she retired to her refuge, the garret, and cried till she couldn't cry any more. Amy likewise bore up stoutly till the steamer sailed. Then just as the gangway was about to be withdrawn, it suddenly came over her that a whole ocean was soon to roll between her and those who loved her best, and she clung to Laurie, the last lingerer, saying with a sob...
"Oh, take care of them for me, and if anything should happen... "
"I will, dear, I will, and if anything happens, I'll come and comfort you," whispered Laurie, little dreaming that he would be called upon to keep his word.
So Amy sailed away to find the Old World, which is always new and beautiful to young eyes, while her father and friend watched her from the shore, fervently hoping that none but gentle fortunes would befall the happy-hearted girl, who waved her hand to them till they could see nothing but the summer sunshine dazzling on the sea.

第三十章后果

　　切斯特夫人的交易会非常优雅，用人非常挑剔，邻里的年轻女士们都把能被请去占一张桌子当作荣耀。每个人都对这件事产生了极大的兴趣。艾美被请了去，乔却没有。这对所有参加者来说是个幸事，因为，她此时正当胳膊叉腰自命不凡的年龄，要吃不少苦头才能学会如何和人融洽相处。于是这位"高傲又令人乏味的家伙"被冷冷撇在一边，而艾美则凭一张艺术桌子把她的天赋与情趣充分展示出来。艾美尽最大努力张罗着适宜的、有价值的东西装备那张桌子。
　　一切都进行得顺利，可是，交易会开幕的前一天发生了一件小冲突。当二十五六个老少妇人在一起做事时，每个人都有自己的愠怒与偏见，这种冲突便是不可避免的。
　　梅·切斯特相当妒忌艾美，因为艾美比她更招人喜爱。就在那时，发生了一些琐碎小事增加了她的妒忌感。艾美那雅致的钢笔画作品使梅的着色花瓶黯然失色--这是第一个苦恼；最近一次舞会上，迷倒所有姑娘的图德和艾美跳了四次舞，只和梅跳了一次--这是第二个苦恼；压在她心头最大的不是传到她耳中的闲言碎语，说马奇家的女孩们在兰姆家笑话了她，这给了她采取不友好行动的藉口。本来这一切该怪罪乔的，是她活灵活现地模仿梅，谁都能看出来，而那爱闹的兰姆们又让笑话传了出来。两个罪犯对后来的事一无所知，所以可以想象出艾美听了切斯特夫人一番话的沮丧。切斯特夫人听说女儿被人笑话，当然恼火。交易会的前一天晚上，艾美正在为她漂亮的桌子做最后的装饰，切斯特夫人不动声色、冷冷地对她说道--"亲爱的，我把这张桌子给了别人而没给我女儿们，我发现年轻女士们有些看法。这张桌子最显眼，有人说所有桌子中这一张最吸引人。我女儿们是这个会的主要筹备人，所以最好让她们占这张桌子。很抱歉，可是我知道你真心实意热衷这个会，你不会介意个人的失望。你要是愿意可以占另外一个桌子。"切斯特夫人事先想象这一番话容易说出口，可是，真到要说的时候，却发现很难自自然然地说出来。艾美不加怀疑地直盯着她，一脸惊奇与困惑。
　　艾美觉得这件事背后有些蹊跷，可是猜不出原因。她感到受到了伤害，也表示出这一点。她轻轻地说："也许你一张桌子也不想给我？""不，亲爱的，请你不要生气。你要知道，这只不过是个权宜之计。我女儿们要领个头。这张桌子自然是她们恰当的位置。我是觉得它对你非常适合，很感激你费了劲把它装饰得这么漂亮，可是，我们还是得放弃自己的愿望。我负责让你在别的地方占一个好位置。你可喜欢花卉桌？小姑娘们在管着，可是她们弄不好，在那儿灰心丧气呢。你能把它变得迷人。要知道，花卉桌总是很吸引人的。""对先生们尤其是这样，"梅补充道。她的神情使艾美明白了使她突然失宠的原因。她脸红了，但是她没去理睬那女孩气的嘲讽，却温和得出人意料地答道--"切斯特夫人，依你的意思做吧。你要是乐意，我马上放弃这个地方，去照管花卉。""你愿意的话，可以把你的东西放到你自己的桌上去，"梅开了口。她看着艾美如此精心制作、又雅致地摆设着的东西--漂亮的笔架，鲜艳的贝壳，奇妙的灯饰--有点感到良心不安了。她是出于善意的，可是艾美误解了她的意思，迅即说道--"噢，当然，如果它们碍事的话。"她匆促地将她的东西扫进围裙，走开了。她觉得她自己连同她的艺术品都受到了不可原谅的羞辱。
　　"嗳呀，她生气了。哦，天哪！要是我没求你说就好了，妈妈，"梅说。她愁闷地看着她桌子上空出来的地方。
　　"女孩子吵嘴不长久，"她妈妈答言，她倒为自己掺和进去有点不好意思了。
　　小姑娘们高兴地为艾美和她的宝贝东西欢呼起来。这种热情的接待稍稍抚平了她不安的情绪，她立即着手工作，打定主意，即使不能施展艺术抱负，也一定要在花卉方面做出成就。可是，似乎一切都和她对着干：开始得太晚了，她也累了，大家都忙着自己的事无法帮她，而小姑娘们碍手碍脚只能帮倒忙。这些可爱的小东西们，像一群麻雀。叽叽喳喳，忙忙碌碌，毫无技巧地努力想维持桌子最完美的状态，结果造成一片混乱。艾美竖平常春藤拱架，可是拱架立不稳，当上面的吊篮装进东西时，架子摇摇摆摆，像是要倒下来砸在她头上；她最好的瓷砖画给溅上了水，结果丘比特的脸上留下了一滴黑色泪珠；她用锤子干活却伤了手；在穿堂风中做事感了冒，这使她为次日忧心忡忡。任何一个有过同样痛苦的女读者都会同情可怜的艾美，祝愿她圆满顺利地完成工作。
　　那天晚上回到家，她把事情说了出来，大家都很气愤。妈妈说那是个耻辱，夸艾美做得对。贝思宣布她坚决不去交易会了。乔质问艾美为什么不拿走她所有的漂亮东西，离开那帮卑鄙小人，让她们自己去开交易会。
　　"没有理由因为她们是小人我也当小人，我讨厌这么做。
　　虽然我受到了伤害，有权作出反应，可我不想表示出来。她们会觉得这比怒气冲冲的言语和行为更厉害。是不是这样，妈咪？""这种精神对，亲爱的。用吻回报殴打总是上策，虽然有时不容易做到，"妈妈说。她知道说与做的不同。
　　尽管有各种自然的诱惑去反抗、报复，艾美第二天整整一天都坚持了自己的决定，一心想用好心征服她的敌人。她的开端良好，这得归功于一个无声之物的提示，这个东西来得出人意料，但是非常及时。那天早晨，她在布置桌子，小姑娘们在休息室装花篮，她拿起她心爱的摆设品--一本小书。书的封面古色古香，爸爸把它当作宝贝。上等纸的书页里的文章还绘有美丽的彩饰图案，每一页都有。艾美带着可以原谅的骄傲神情翻着书面。她目光落在一行诗上，这使她不得不停下来思索。那一行字用鲜艳的红、蓝、黄三色云状花纹勾了边，表达了世人应在荆棘与玫瑰花丛中互相帮助的良好愿望："汝爱邻人，应如爱己。""我应该这样做，可是我没做到，"艾美想。她的目光从鲜艳的书页转向大花瓶后面梅不满意的脸上，那些大花瓶填不了她的那些漂亮作品曾经占据的空间。艾美站了一会儿，翻着手中的书页，每一页都读到一些对记仇、妒忌之心的轻柔指责。每天，我们从街道、学校、办公室以及家庭听到许多明智的、真正的布道，只是没有在意。假如这张交易会桌子能提出富有教益、决不过时的人生哲理，它也能成为布道讲坛。此时此地，艾美的良知向她宣讲了小书上的道理。她做了我们许多人不大做得到的事--从善如流，并立即付诸实施。
　　一群女孩子围站在梅的桌旁，欣赏着漂亮的物品，议论着女售货员的变换。她们压低了声音，可是艾美知道她们在谈论她，她们听了一面之辞并且据之作出判断。这不太令人愉快，但是她的态度已经有了很大的转变。不一会儿，就来了个机会让她证明这一点。她听到梅难过地说--"太糟了，没有时间做别的东西了。我不想用乱七八糟的东西填补空缺。刚才这张桌子已布置好了，现在给毁了。""我敢说，要是你求她，她会把东西放回来的，"有人提议。
　　"这一番过后，我怎么能做到呢？"梅说。然而，她话音未落，艾美动人的声音便从大厅那边传了过来--"你不用求，需要的话，尽管用好啦。我正想着提议把它们放回去呢。因为，它们属于你那张桌子，而不是这张桌子，给你吧，请收下吧。原谅我昨晚性急地把它们拿走了。"她一边说着，一边点头笑着将她的东西放了回去。然后她又匆忙走开了，她觉得做一件友好的事要比做完后留下来让人感谢容易些。
　　"哎呀，她这么做太可爱了，是不是？"一个女孩叫道。
　　梅的答语没人听见。然而，另一个显然被制作柠檬汽车弄得有点发躁的年轻女士令人不愉快地笑了笑，补充道："非常可爱。因为她知道这些东西在她自己的桌上卖不出去。"嗳哟，这太过分了。当我们做出些不大的牺牲时，至少希望别人能欣赏。有一会儿，艾美后悔那样做了，她感到美德并不总是有回报的。但还是有的--正像她很快发觉的--因为，她的情绪开始高涨，她的桌子在她灵巧的双手下开花了，姑娘们非常友好。那个小小的举动似乎令人惊讶地消除了误会。
　　对艾美来说，那一天很长，也很难熬。她坐在桌子后面，经常是独自一人。因为小姑娘们不久都跑开了，极少有人愿意在夏天买花。还没到夜间，她的花束已开始枯萎了。
　　屋子里，艺术桌是最吸引人的，那儿整天围着一群人，看管人脸上带着自得的表情，手里捧着咔哒着响的钱箱，不断地跑来跑去。艾美常常渴望地看着那边，极想在那边干，在那边她感到自如、满足。可是她却身处这个角落无事可做。对我们一些人来说，这似乎不是什么难事。但是，对这样一个漂亮、活泼的年轻女孩来说，却不仅乏味，而且非常难以忍受。一想到她的家人、劳里以及劳里的朋友们晚上会在那里看到她，实在让她感到痛苦。
　　她到夜里才回家。虽然她没有抱怨，甚至没告诉家人她做了些什么，可是家人从她苍白的脸色、安静的态度看出这一天日子过得很艰难。妈妈亲切地多给了她一杯茶。贝思帮着她穿衣，还做了个迷人的花环让她戴在头上。而乔非同寻常地仔细梳妆打扮，隐隐约约地暗示要去掀翻那些桌子，使家人吃了一惊。
　　"别去做无礼的事，乔，求你了。我不想把事情搞糟，就让它过去吧，你安分点吧，"艾美央求着。她走得早，希望能再搞到一些鲜花使她那可怜的小桌子焕然一新。
　　"我只想尽量迎合我所认识的每一个人，让他们在你那一角尽可能多待些时间。特迪和他那帮小伙子会帮忙的，我们还是会过得愉快的，"乔回答。她靠在门边守候着劳里。不一会儿，暮色里传来了熟悉的脚步声，她跑出去迎接他。
　　"那是我的男孩吗？"
　　"的确是的，就像这是我的女孩！"劳里带着志满意得的男子汉风度让她挽起了他的胳膊。
　　"哦，特迪，竟有这种事！"乔怀着姐姐的不平之情告诉他艾美受到的委屈。
　　"不一会儿，我那一帮朋友就要坐车过来。我一定要他们买走艾美所有的花，然后就待在她的桌前。"劳里热情地支持她的事业。
　　"艾美说，花一点儿也不艳了，新鲜的也许又不能及时送到。我不想让人感到不公平，让人猜疑。可要是鲜花根本送不来的话，我也不会惊奇的。人们做了一件卑鄙的事，就很可能做第二件，"乔恨恨地说。
　　"难道海斯没把我们花园里最好的花给你？我叫他送的。" "我不知道，我估摸他忘了。你爷爷不舒服，我不想去向他要花来烦他，虽然我确实想要些。""哎呀，乔，你怎么能想到该去要！那些花是我的也是你的。我们不是什么东西都一分为二的吧？"劳里开口说，他那种语调总是让乔变得刺人。
　　"天哟，希望不至如此！你一半的东西一点儿也不合我的意。只是我们不能站在这里调笑。我得去帮帮艾美，你去出你的风头吧，要是你能仁慈地让海斯送一些漂亮鲜花到交易会大厅，我会永远为你祈福的。""你难道不能现在就为我祈福吗？"劳里挑逗地问道，吓得乔很不友好地匆匆关上门，隔着栅栏叫道："走开，特迪，我忙着呢！"多亏了这两个共谋者，那天晚上桌子真的翻过来了。因为海斯送过去许多鲜花，花以最佳的方式装饰在一只可爱的篮子里，作为摆在桌子中央的饰品。马奇一家全体出动。乔相当成功地尽了力。人们不仅过来了，而且停留了下来，笑着听她的废话，赞赏艾美的情趣。他们显然非常开心。劳里和他的朋友们全都仗义地挺身担当重任。他们买完了花束，逗留在桌前，把那个角落变成了屋子里最热闹的地方。现在艾美如鱼得水，不为别的，只出于感激。她尽可能地做到行动活泼、举止优雅，大概在那个时刻，她得出结论：美德毕竟还是有回报的。
　　乔的举止得体，堪为楷模。当艾美幸福地被她的仪仗队包围着的时候，乔在大厅绕着圈听着各种闲话，这些闲话使她明白了切斯特夫人为什么作那样的变化，她为她引起的那一份敌意自责，决心尽快为艾美开释。她还了解到艾美早上是怎样处理事情的，认为艾美是宽宏大量的典范。她经过艺术桌时，扫了一眼，想找到她妹妹的东西，但是东西没有踪影。"收起来了不让人看见，我敢说，"乔想。她自己受了委屈可以原谅他人，不去计较，然而对她家人受到的侮辱，她却强烈地感到愤愤不平。
　　"晚上好，乔。艾美情况怎么样？"梅带着和解的口气问。
　　她想表明她也能做到大度的。
　　"她已经卖完了她所有值得卖的东西，现在她在玩呢。花卉桌总是吸引人的，你知道，'对先生们尤其是这样'。"乔忍不住那样轻轻地攻击了一下梅，但是梅温顺地接受了。这让她很快便后悔了，开始夸赞起那些大花瓶来，花瓶还没卖掉。
　　"艾美的灯饰放在哪里？我想为爸爸买，"乔说。她很想知道她妹妹作品的命运。
　　"艾美的所有东西早就卖完了。我设法让想买的人看见它们。那些东西为我们挣来一笔数目不小的钱，"梅回答。和艾美一样，她那天也击退了各种小诱惑。
　　心满意足的乔冲回去报告这个好消息。听说了梅的话语和态度，艾美又是感动，又是惊奇。
　　"现在，先生们，我要你们到别的桌子前尽义务，就像你们对我的桌子那样慷慨大方--特别是艺术桌，"她吩咐着"特迪的自己人"，女孩子们对大学朋友都这么称呼。
　　"'收钱，切斯特，收钱！'这是那张桌子的口号，但是你们要像男子汉那样尽义务。你们花钱买的艺术品会完全划得来，"当这队人马准备占领阵地时，乔忍不住说。
　　"听令就是服从。但马奇比梅可要漂亮得多，"小帕克说道，他尽最大努力想说点既俏皮又温柔的话，但是立即被劳里制止了。
　　劳里说："很好，小家伙，一个小男孩应该这样！"然后父亲似地拍了一下他的头，让他走开了。
　　"买那些花瓶，"艾美对劳里耳语道。她想最后一次使她的敌人惭愧难当。
　　使梅大为高兴的是，劳里不仅买了花瓶，而且一边夹一个，在大厅里招摇过市。其他先生同样出手大方，买起了各种各样易损的琐碎物品，然后，提溜着沉沉的蜡花、画扇、金银细丝绣饰的公文包以及其他玲珑又实用的玩意儿，在大厅时无助地闲逛。
　　卡罗尔婶婶也在那里，听说了这件事，很高兴，在一旁对马奇太太说着些什么。马奇太太满意地微笑着，凝望着艾美，脸上的表情混杂着自豪与焦虑。即便如此，几天以后她才说出她高兴的原因。
　　大家公认交易会是成功的。当梅向艾美道晚安时，她没有像往常那样过分表露感情，而是亲切地吻了她一下，脸上表情似乎在说："原谅我，忘了它。"这使艾美感到很受用。她回到家，发现那两只花瓶各插着一大束花被陈列在客厅的壁炉架上。"奖给懿行美德的马奇，"劳里手舞足蹈地宣布。
　　"艾美，你的优点比我知道的更为突出。你讲道义，慷慨大方，气质高尚。你表现得很不错。我真心实意地钦佩你，"那天晚上，她们一起梳着头，乔这样热情地说。
　　 "是的，我们都尊重你，你那样乐意宽恕别人。忙了那么长时间，一心想卖掉自己的漂亮东西，却差点白费劲，肯定非常难做。我想我做不到像你那样友好地原谅别人，"贝思从枕头上抬起头来补充道。
　　"哎呀，姑娘们，你们不要这样表扬我。我只是愿意别人怎样待我，我就怎么待人。我说想当个女士，你们笑话我，可我的意思是做一个思想和风度上真正的女士。我以我所知道的方式试着去做。我做不了确切的解释。我是想避开那些毁了许多妇女的小毛病，如小气、愚笨、挑剔。我做得远远不够。但是我尽力而为，希望有一天能成为妈妈那样的人。"艾美说得热切认真。乔亲切地拥抱了她一下，说："现在我懂得你的意思了。我再也不笑话你了。你的进步比你想象的快。我会真心老老实实地向你学习，我相信，你已经入道了。亲爱的，接着试吧。总有一天你会得到回报的。到那时没有人会比我更高兴。"一个星期后，艾美真的得到了回报。乔却感到很难高兴起来。她们收到了一封卡罗尔婶婶的信。马奇太太读着信，脸上大放光彩，弄得和她在一起的乔和贝思忙问是什么喜讯。
　　"下个月卡罗尔婶婶要出国，她想要--"
　　"我和她一起去！"乔突然插嘴。她狂喜得控制不住，从椅子里蹦起来。
　　"不，亲爱的，不是你，是艾美。"
　　"哦，妈妈！她太年轻了。先轮到我。我已经想了那么长时间--那样对我太有好处了，太妙了--我非要去。""恐怕不可能，乔。婶婶决定的是艾美。她给我们这样一个恩惠，我们不好提要求的。""总是这样。乐趣都是艾美的，活儿都是我来干。这不公平。哦，这不公平！"乔情绪激动地哭了。
　　"我恐怕这件事有一半是你自己的错，亲爱的，前些日子婶婶和我谈话时说到，她为你直率的态度、独立的个性感到遗憾。信上她这么写着，好像是引用了你的话--开始我打算请乔，可是，由于'恩惠给她负担'，她'讨厌法语'，我想，我不会冒昧地邀请她。艾美要温顺些，她会成为弗洛的好旅伴，她有一颗慧心领受旅行带给她的每一点馈赠。""哦！我的舌头，我那可恶的舌头！我怎么不能学着保持沉默呢？"乔痛苦地抱怨道。她记起了让她倒霉的那些话。马奇太太听了她对信中引用的话的解释，难过地说--"我真希望你能去，可是这次没有指望了。还是安然接受现实吧，别让责备、后悔扫了艾美的兴。""我试着做吧，"乔说。她使劲眨着眼，俯身捡起刚才兴奋时打翻的篮子。"我要模仿她，不仅看上去高兴，而且真的高兴。一分钟也不忌妒她的幸福。但是这不大容易做。我的失望太大了。"可怜的乔伤心地哭了，眼泪打湿了手中插满针的小针插。
　　"乔，亲爱的。我很自私。可是我不能放开你。我很高兴你暂时还不走，"贝思低声说道。她连篮子带人抱住了乔。那种依恋的拥抱、充满爱意的神情使乔感到宽慰，尽管强烈的后悔使她想打自己的耳光，然后谦卑地去求卡罗尔婶婶给她这个恩惠，看着她如何优雅地接受它。
　　到艾美进门时，乔已经能加入全家的欢乐中去了。也许不完全是发自内心的，但是她没有对艾美的好运启发牢骚。那位年轻女士自己把这消息当作天大的喜讯。她欢天喜地又不乏稳重地着手准备，当晚便开始整理她的水彩颜料，收拾铅笔，把衣服、钱、护照之类的琐碎东西留给那些不像她那样热衷于艺术珍品的人们。
　　"这对我不光是旅游，姑娘们，"她忘情地说，一边收拢起她最好的调色板，"它将决定我的职业，因为如果我有才气的话，我会在罗马发现它的，并会以行动来证明。""假如没有呢？"乔问。她眼睛红红地缝制着新领结，这个领结是给艾美的。
　　"那我就回家，教人画画谋生，"向往成名者沉着镇定地回答。但是想到这种远景，她做了个苦脸，然后不停地刮擦着她的调色板，好像在放弃希望前全副身心地采取着有力的措施。
　　"不，你不会的。你讨厌干重活。你会和某个富人结婚，然后回到家来整天尽享荣华富贵。""你的预言有时会实现的。但是我不相信这个会实现。我肯定是希望它会实现的。因为，假如我自己当不了艺术家，我希望有能力帮助那些可以成为艺术家的人，"艾美笑着说，仿佛扮演乐善好施的女士比穷绘画教师的角色更适合她。
　　"哼！"乔叹道，"你希望这样，就会这样的。你的愿望总是能得到满足--而我，从来得不到。""你想去吗？"艾美问，她若有所思地用刀轻轻拍着鼻子。
　　"很想。"
　　"那么，一两年左右，我会来请你的。我们一起到古罗马广场去看遗迹，实现我们定了那么多次的计划。""谢谢！当那个快乐的日子到来时，我会让你想起你的许诺的，假如有那么一天的话，"乔回答。她尽可能愉快地接受了这个不确定的但却十分动人的提议。
　　没有多少时间作准备。屋子里一片混乱，直到艾美离开。
　　乔咬紧牙关坚持得很好，待到那飘动的蓝丝带消失，她退进自己的避难所--阁楼，哭得不能自持。艾美同样勇敢地咬紧牙关坚持着，直到轮船起航。可是就在要撤舷梯的时候，她突然醒悟到，不多久她和那些深爱她的人将会被这个波涛翻滚的大海隔开。于是，她抱住最后一个送客劳里，抽泣着说--"哦，为我照顾她们，万一发生了什么事--""我会的，亲爱的，万一有什么，我会来安慰你的，"劳里低声说，他做梦也没想到他后来会被请去履行他的诺言。
　　就这样，艾美乘船去探寻东半球。在年轻人眼里，那里是多么神奇、美丽呀！她的父亲和她的朋友站在岸边注视着她，热切地希望好运轻轻地降临在这个快乐的女孩身上。她向他们挥着手，他们目送着她，直到什么都看不见了，只有海面上耀眼的夏日阳光。

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一二三四五六七~~~

举报只看该作者 32楼发表于: 2013-10-25 0

Chapter Thirty-one 0ur Foreign Correspondent

London
Dearest People,
Here I really sit at a front window of the Bath Hotel, Piccadilly. It's not a fashionable place, but Uncle stopped here years ago, and won't go anywhere else. However, we don't mean to stay long, so it's no great matter. Oh, I can't begin to tell you how I enjoy it all! I never can, so I'll only give you bits out of my notebook, for I've done nothing but sketch and scribble since I started.
I sent a line from Halifax, when I felt pretty miserable, but after that I got on delightfully, seldom ill, on deck all day, with plenty of pleasant people to amuse me. Everyone was very kind to me, especially the officers. Don't laugh, Jo, gentlemen really are very necessary aboard ship, to hold on to, or to wait upon one, and as they have nothing to do, it's a mercy to make them useful, otherwise they would smoke themselves to death, I'm afraid.
Aunt and Flo were poorly all the way, and liked to be let alone, so when I had done what I could for them, I went and enjoyed myself. Such walks on deck, such sunsets, such splendid air and waves! It was almost as exciting as riding a fast horse, when we went rushing on so grandly. I wish Beth could have come, it would have done her so much good. As for Jo, she would have gone up and sat on the maintop jib, or whatever the high thing is called, made friends with the engineers, and tooted on the captain's speaking trumpet, she'd have been in such a state of rapture.
It was all heavenly, but I was glad to see the Irish coast, and found it very lovely, so green and sunny, with brown cabins here and there, ruins on some of the hills, and gentlemen's countryseats in the valleys, with deer feeding in the parks. It was early in the morning, but I didn't regret getting up to see it, for the bay was full of little boats, the shore so picturesque, and a rosy sky overhead. I never shall forget it.
At Queenstown on of my new acquaintances left us, Mr. Lennox, and when I said something about the Lakes of Killarney, he sighed and and, with a look at me...
"Oh, have you e'er heard of Kate Kearney?
She lives on the banks of Killarney;
From the glance of her eye,
Shun danger and fly,
For fatal's the glance of Kate Kearney."
Wasn't that nonsensical?
We only stopped at Liverpool a few hours. It's a dirty, noisy place, and I was glad to leave it. Uncle rushed out and bought a pair of dogskin gloves, some ugly, thick shoes, and an umbrella, and got shaved `a la mutton chop, the first thing. Then he flattered himself that he looked like a true Briton, but the first time he had the mud cleaned off his shoes, the little bootblack knew that an American stood in them, and said, with a grin, "There yer har, sir. I've given `em the latest Yankee shine." It amused Uncle immensely. Oh, I must tell you what that absurd Lennox did! He got his friend Ward, who came on with us, to order a bouquet for me, and the first thing I saw in my room was a lovely one, with "Robert Lennox's compliments," on the card. Wasn't that fun, girls? I like traveling.
I never shall get to London if I don't hurry. The trip was like riding through a long picture gallery, full of lovely landscapes. The farmhouses were my delight, with thatched roofs, ivy up to the eaves, latticed windows, and stout women with rosy children at the doors. The very cattle looked more tranquil than ours, as they stood knee-deep in clover, and the hens had a contented cluck, as if they never got nervous like Yankee biddies. Such perfect color I never saw, the grass so green, sky so blue, grain so yellow, woods so dark, I was in a rapture all the way. So was Flo, and we kept bouncing from one side to the other, trying to see everything while we were whisking along at the rate of sixty miles an hour. Aunt was tired and went to sleep, but Uncle read his guidebook, and wouldn't be astonished at anything. This is the way we went on. Amy, flying up--"Oh, that must be Kenilworth, that gray place among the trees!" Flo, darting to my window--"How sweet! We must go there sometime, won't we Papa?" Uncle, calmly admiring his boots--"No, my dear, not unless you want beer, that's a brewery."
A pause--then Flo cried out, "Bless me, there's a gallows and a man going up." "Where, where?" shrieks Amy, staring out at two tall posts with a crossbeam and some dangling chains. "A colliery," remarks Uncle, with a twinkle of the eye. "Here's a lovely flock of lambs all lying down," says Amy. "See, Papa, aren't they pretty?" added Flo sentimentally. "Geese, young ladies," returns Uncle, in a tone that keeps us quiet till Flo settles down to enjoy the FLIRTATIONS OF CAPTAIN CAVENDISH, and I have the scenery all to myself.
Of course it rained when we got to London, and there was nothing to be seen but fog and umbrellas. We rested, unpacked, and shopped a little between the showers. Aunt Mary got me some new things, for I came off in such a hurry I wasn't half ready. A white hat and blue feather, a muslin dress to match, and the loveliest mantle you ever saw. Shopping in Regent Street is perfectly splendid. Things seem so cheap, nice ribbons only sixpence a yard. I laid in a stock, but shall get my gloves in Paris. Doesn't that sound sort of elegant and rich?
Flo and I, for the fun of it, ordered a hansom cab, while Aunt and Uncle were out, and went for a drive, though we learned afterward that it wasn't the thing for young ladies to ride in them alone. It was so droll! For when we were shut in by the wooden apron, the man drove so fast that Flo was frightened, and told me to stop him. but he was up outside behind somewhere, and I couldn't get at him. He didn't hear me call, nor see me flap my parasol in front, and there we were, quite helpless, rattling away, and whirling around corners at a breakneck pace. At last, in my despair, I saw a little door in the roof, and on poking it open, a red eye appeared, and a beery voice said...
"Now, then, mum?"
I gave my order as soberly as I could, and slamming down the door, with an "Aye, aye, mum," the man made his horse walk, as if going to a funeral. I poked again and said, "A little faster," then off he went, helter-skelter as before, and we resigned ourselves to our fate.
Today was fair, and we went to Hyde Park, close by, for we are more aristocratic than we look. The Duke of Devonshire lives near. I often see his footmen lounging at the back gate, and the Duke of Wellington's house is not far off. Such sights as I saw, my dear! It was as good as Punch, for there were fat dowagers rolling about in their red and yellow coaches, with gorgeous Jeameses in silk stockings and velvet coats, up behind, and powdered coachmen in front. Smart maids, with the rosiest children I ever saw, handsome girls, looking half asleep, dandies in queer English hats and lavender kids lounging about, and tall soldiers, in short red jackets and muffin caps stuck on one side, looking so funny I longed to sketch them.
Rotten Row means `Route de Roi', or the king's way, but now it's more like a riding school than anything else. The horses are splendid, and the men, especially the grooms, ride well, but the women are stiff, and bounce, which isn't according to our rules. I longed to show them a tearing American gallop, for they trotted solemnly up and down, in their scant habits and high hats, looking like the women in a toy Noah's Ark. Everyone rides--old men, stout ladies, little children-- and the young folks do a deal of flirting here, I say a pair exchange rose buds, for it's the thing to wear one in the button-hole, and I thought it rather a nice little idea.
In the P.M. to Westminster Abbey, but don't expect me to describe it, that's impossible, so I'll only say it was sublime! This evening we are going to see Fechter, which will be an appropriate end to the happiest day of my life.
It's very late, but I can't let my letter go in the morning without telling you what happened last evening. Who do you think came in, as we were at tea? Laurie's English friends, Fred and Frank Vaughn! I was so surprised, for I shouldn't have known them but for the cards. both are tall fellows with whiskers, Fred handsome in the English style, and Frank much better, for he only limps slightly, and uses no crutches. They had heard from Laurie where we were to be, and came to ask us to their house, but Uncle won't go, so we shall return the call, and see them as we can. They went to the theater with us, and we did have such a good time, for Frank devoted himself to Flo, and Fred and I talked over past, present, and future fun as if we had know each other all our days. Tell Beth Frank asked for her, and was sorry to hear of her ill health. Fred laughed when I spoke of Jo, and sent his `respectful compliments to the big hat'. Neither of them had forgotten Camp Laurence, or the fun we had there. What ages ago it seems, doesn't it?
Aunt is tapping on the wall for the third time, so I must stop. I really feel like a dissipated London fine lady, writing here so late, with my room full of pretty things, and my head a jumble of parks, theaters, new gowns, and gallant creatures who say "Ah!" and twirl their blond mustaches with the true English lordliness. I long to see you all, and in spite of my nonsense am, as ever, your loving...
AMY

PARIS
Dear girls,
In my last I told you about our London visit, how kind the Vaughns were, and what pleasant parties they made for us. I enjoyed the trips to Hampton Court and the Kensington Museum more than anything else, for at Hampton I saw Raphael's cartoons, and at the Museum, rooms full of pictures by Turner, Lawrence, Reynolds, Hogarth, and the other great creatures. The day in Richmond Park was charming, for we had a regular English picnic, and I had more splendid oaks and groups of deer than I could copy, also heard a nightingale, and saw larks go up. We `did' London to our heart's content, thanks to Fred and Frank, and were sorry to go away, for though English people are slow to take you in, when they once make up their minds to do it they cannot be outdone in hospitality, I think. The Vaughns hope to meet us in Rome next winter, and I shall be dreadfully disappointed if they don't, for Grace and I are great friends, and the boys very nice fellows, especially Fred.
Well, we were hardly settled here, when he turned up again, saying he had come for a holiday, and was going to Switzerland. Aunt looked sober at first, but he was so cool about it she couldn't say a word. And now we get on nicely, and are very glad he came, for he speaks French like a native, and I don't know what we should do without him. Uncle doesn't know ten words, and insists on talking English very loud, as if it would make people understand him. Aunt's pronunciation is old-fashioned, and Flo and I, though we flattered ourselves that we knew a good deal, find we don't, and are very grateful to have Fred do the `parley vooing', as Uncle calls it.
Such delightful times as we are having! Sight-seeing from morning till night, stopping for nice lunches in the gay cafes, and meeting with all sorts of droll adventures. Rainy days I spend in the Louvre, revelling in pictures. Jo would turn up her naughty nose at some of the finest, because she has no soul for art, but I have, and I'm cultivation eye and taste as fast as I can. She would like the relics of great people better, for I've seen her Napoleon's cocked hat and gray coat, his baby's cradle and his old toothbrush, also Marie Antoinette's little shoe, the ring of Saint Denis, Charlemagne's sword, and many other interesting things. I'll talk for hours about them when I come, but haven't time to write.
The Palais Royale is a heavenly place, so full of bijouterie and lovely things that I'm nearly distracted because I can't buy them. Fred wanted to get me some, but of course I didn't allow it. Then the Bois and Champs Elysees are tres magnifique. I've seen the imperial family several times, the emperor an ugly, hard-looking man, the empress pale and pretty, but dressed in bad taste, I thought--purple dress, green hat, and yellow gloves. Little Nap is a handsome boy, who sits chatting to his tutor, and kissed his hand to the people as he passes in his four-horse barouche, with postilions in red satin jackets and a mounted guard before and behind.
We often walk in the Tuileries Gardens, for they are lovely, though the antique Luxembourg Gardens suit me better. Pere la Chaise is very curious, for many of the tombs are like small rooms, and looking in, one sees a table, with images or pictures of the dead, and chairs for the mourners to sit in when they come to lament. That is so Frenchy.
Our rooms are on the Rue de Rivoli, and sitting on the balcony, we look up and down the long, brilliant street. It is so pleasant that we spend our evenings talking there when too tired with our day's work to go out. Fred is very entertaining, and is altogether the most agreeable young man I ever knew-- except Laurie, whose manners are more charming. I wish Fred was dark, for I don't fancy light men, however, the Vaughns are very rich and come of an excellent family, so I won't find fault with their yellow hair, as my own is yellower.
Next week we are off to Germany and Switzerland, and as we shall travel fast, I shall only be able to give you hasty letters. I keep my diary, and try to `remember correctly and describe clearly all that I see and admire', as Father advised. It is good practice for me, and with my sketchbook will give you a better idea of my tour than these scribbles.
Adieu, I embrace you tenderly.

VOTRE AMIE

HEIDELBERG

My dear Mamma,
Having a quiet hour before we leave for Berne, I'll try to tell you what has happened, for some of it is very important, as you will see.
The sail up the Rhine was perfect, and I just sat and enjoyed it with all my might. Get Father's old guidebooks and read about it. I haven't words beautiful enough to describe it. At Coblenz we had a lovely time, for some students from Bonn, with whom Fred got acquainted on the boat, gave us a serenade. It was a moonlight night, and about one o'clock Flo and I were waked by the most delicious music under our windows. We flew up, and hid behind the curtains, but sly peeps showed us Fred and the students singing away down below. It was the most romantic thing I ever saw--the river, the bridge of boats, the great fortress opposite, moonlight everywhere, and music fit to melt a heart of stone.
When they were done we threw down some flowers, and saw them scramble for them, kiss their hands to the invisible ladies, and go laughing away, to smoke and drink beer, I suppose. Next morning Fred showed me one of the crumpled flowers in his vest pocket, and looked very sentimental. I laughed at him, and said I didn't throw it, but Flo, which seemed to disgust him, for he tossed it out of the window, and turned sensible again. I'm afraid I'm going to have trouble with that boy, it begins to look like it.
The baths at Nassau were very gay, so was Baden-Baden, where Fred lost some money, and I scolded him. He needs someone to look after him when Frank is not with him. Kate said once she hoped he'd marry soon, and I quite agree with her that it would be well for him. Frankfurt was delightful. I saw Goeth's house, Schiller's statue, and Dannecker's famous Ariadne. It was very lovely, but I should have enjoyed it more if I had known the story better. I didn't like to ask, as everyone knew it or pretended they did. I wish Jo would tell me all about it. I ought to have read more, for I find I don't know anything, and it mortifies me.

Now comes the serious part, for it happened here, and Fred has just gone. He has been so kind and jolly that we all got quite fond of him. I never thought of anything but a traveling friendship till the serenade night. Since then I've begun to feel that the moonlight walks, balcony talks, and daily adventures were something more to him than fun. I haven't flirted, Mother, truly, but remembered what you said to me, and have done my very best. I can't help it if people like me. I don't try to make them, and it worries me if I don't care for them, though Jo says I haven't got any heart. Now I know Mother will shake her head, and the girls say, "Oh, the mercenary little wretch!", but I've made up my mind, and if Fred asks me, I shall accept him, though I'm not madly in love. I like him, and we get on comfortably together. He is handsome, young, clever enough, and very rich--ever so much richer than the Laurences. I don't think his family would object, and I should be very happy, for they are all kind, well-bred, generous people, and they like me. Fred, as the eldest twin, will have the estate, I suppose, and such a splendid one it is! A city house in a fashionable street, not so showy as our big houses, but twice as comfortable and full of solid luxury, such as English people believe in. I like it, for it's genuine. I've seen the plate, the family jewels, the old servants, and pictures of the country place, with its park, great house, lovely grounds, and fine horses. Oh, it would be all I should ask! And I'd rather have it than any title such as girls snap up so readily, and find nothing behind. I may be mercenary, but I hate poverty, and don't mean to bear it a minute longer than I can help. One of us must marry well. Meg didn't, Jo won't, Beth can't yet, so I shall, and make everything okay all round. I wouldn't marry a man I hated or despised. You may be sure of that, and though Fred is not my model hero, he does very well, and in time I should get fond enough of him if he was very fond of me, and let me do just as I liked. So I've been turning the matter over in my mind the last week, for it was impossible to help seeing that Fred liked me. He said nothing, but little things showed it. He never goes with Flo, always gets on my side of the carriage, table, or promenade, looks sentimental when we are alone, and frowns at anyone else who ventures to speak tome. Yesterday at dinner, when an Austrian officer stared at us and then said something to his friend, a rakish-looking baron, about `ein wonderschones Blondchen', Fred looked as fierce as a lion, and cut his meat so savagely it nearly flew off his plate. He isn't one of the cool, stiff Englishmen, but is rather peppery, for he has Scotch blood in him, as one might guess from his bonnie blue eyes.
Well, last evening we went up to the castle about sunset, at least all of us but Fred, who was to meet us there after going to the Post Restante for letters. We had a charming time poking about the ruins, the vaults where the monster tun is, and the beautiful gardens made by the elector long ago for his English wife. I liked the great terrace best, for the view was divine, so while the rest went to see the rooms inside, I sat there trying to sketch the gray stone lion's head on the wall, with scarlet woodbine sprays hanging round it. I felt as if I'd got into a romance, sitting there, watching the Meckar rolling through the valley, listening to the music of the Austrian band below, and waiting for my lover, like a real storybook girl. I had a feeling that something was going to happen and I was ready for it. I didn't feel blushy or quakey, but quite cool and only a little excited.
By-and-by I heard Fred's voice, and then he came hurrying through the great arch to find me. He looked so troubled that I forgot all about myself, and asked what the matter was. He said he'd just got a letter begging him to come home, for Frank was very ill. So he was going at once on the night train and only had time to say good-by. I was very sorry for him, and disappointed for myself, but only for a minute because he said, as he shook hands, and said it in a way that I could not mistake, "I shall soon come back, you won't forget me, Amy?"
I didn't promise, but I looked at him, and he seemed satisfied, and there was no time for anything but messages and good-byes, for he was off in an hour, and we all miss him very much. I know he wanted to speak, but I think, from something he once hinted, that he had promised his father not to do anything of the sort yet a while, for is is a rash boy, and the old gentleman dreads a foreign daughter-in-law. We shall soon meet in Rome, and then, if I don't change my mind, I'll say "Yes, thank you," when he says "Will you, please?"
Of course this is all very private, but I wished you to know what was going on. Don't be anxious about me, remember I am your `prudent Amy', and be sure I will do nothing rashly. Send me as much advice as you like. I'll use it if I can. I wish I could see you for a good talk, Marmee. Love and trust me.
Ever your AMY

第三十一章海外来鸿

　　伦敦
最亲爱的家人们：
　　我现在真的坐在皮卡迪利大街巴思旅馆一个临街的窗前。这不是个时髦地方，可是几年前，叔叔在这儿停下来，再也不想去别的地方了。而我们也不打算在这儿呆长，这也就不是什么大事了。哦，我无法从头至尾告诉你们我是多么地欣赏这一切！毫无办法。因此，我只能告诉你们一些我笔记本上记的事。从出发以来我除了画些素描，胡乱写些东西之外什么都没干。
　　到达哈利法克斯时，我寄了封短信。那时我感到很难受。从那以后，我过得很愉快，几乎没有生病，整天在甲板上，有许多有趣的人逗我。每个人对我都很客气，特别是那些官员们。别笑，乔。在船上真是非常需要先生们，需要依赖他们，需要他们的侍候。他们无事可做，使他们成为有用的人倒是对他们施惠。不然的话，我担心他们非抽烟抽死不可。
　　婶婶和弗洛一路上身体都不舒服，想清静些，所以我做完能为她们做的事，便自己去玩。那种在甲板上散步的滋味，那样的落日，那样好的空气与波浪！那种感受几乎和我们骑着快马飞奔一样激动人心。我真希望贝思也能来这儿，这将对她大有好处。至于乔嘛，她会爬上去坐在大桅楼的三角帆上，或者管它叫什么来着的那个高高的东西上。她会和轮船水手们交朋友，对着船长的传声筒嘟嘟乱吵，她会欣喜若狂的。
　　一切都其妙无比。并且，我高兴地看到了爱尔兰的海岸，发现它非常可爱。远远望去，那么绿，海岸洒满阳光，四处点缀着棕色的小木屋。山上的一些古迹隐约可见，山谷里有着绅士们的别墅，小鹿们在花园里吃着草。当时是清晨，可是，我并不后悔起早观景。海湾里布满了小船，海岸上风景如画，头顶上天色泛红。我永远也忘不了这个景致。
　　在昆士镇，伦诺克斯先生--我新结识的一个朋友--下船离开了我们，在船上我谈起基拉尼湖时，伦诺克斯先生曾叹了口气，看着我唱起来--"哦，你可曾听说凯特·卡尼？
　　基拉尼湖畔是她的生长之地；
　　她的两眼一瞥，
　　有陷进之险而飞快逃离，
　　凯特·卡尼的眼神，逃不脱的宿命。"
　　那是不是毫无意义？
　　我们在利物品只停留了几小时。这个地方又脏又吵。我倒乐意早些离开。叔叔做的第一件事便是赶快去买了副狗皮手套和一双又丑又笨的鞋子，还有一把雨桑然后，他刮掉了络腮胡子，自以为看上去像个真正的英国人，可是，他第一次让人擦鞋子，那擦皮鞋的小家伙便知道穿鞋人是个美国人，笑嘻嘻地说："擦好啦，先生，我用的是最新式的美国擦法。"逗得叔叔大笑。噢，我得告诉你们那个荒唐的伦诺克斯干了什么！他让他的朋友沃德为我预定了一束花，沃德和我们一起继续旅行。我进屋第一眼便看到了一束可爱的花，附着一张卡片"罗伯特·伦诺克斯敬赠"。姑娘们，可有意思？
　　我喜欢旅行。
　　我要是不抓紧，恐怕根本写不到伦敦的事儿了。旅途就像是乘车在一个长长的充满迷人景象的画廓中穿行。我喜欢看那些农舍。茅草盖的屋顶，常春藤一直缠绕到屋檐，格子状的窗户，门前有健壮的妇女和面色红润的孩子们。这里的牲口站在齐膝深的三叶草中，看上去比我们那里的牲口要平静些。母鸡知足地咯咯叫着，好像从来不像美国鸡们那样神经紧张。我从未见过这种完美的色彩--草是那么绿，天是那么蓝，谷物金黄，树木葱郁。一路上我欢天喜地。弗洛也是这样。我们以每小时六十英里的速度急速前行，我们不停地从一边蹦到另一边，想把美景尽收眼中。婶婶倦了去睡觉了，叔叔读着旅行指南，他对一切无动于衷。当时情况是这样的：艾美，跳了起来--"噢，树丛中的那片灰色肯定是凯尼尔沃思城！"弗洛，冲到我的窗前--"多美呀！我们什么时候一定去那，是不是，爸爸？"叔叔，不动声色地欣赏着自己的靴子--"不，亲爱的，除非你要喝啤酒，那是个啤酒厂。"安静了一阵--后来弗洛叫了起来："天哪，那儿有个绞刑架，有个人往那去。""哪儿，哪儿？"艾美尖叫着向外望去，看见两根高柱子，上面有横梁，还有一些摇晃着的链条。"是个煤矿，"叔叔眨着眼说道。"这里有群可爱的羊，它们都躺下了，"艾美说。"瞧！爸爸，它们多漂亮！"弗洛动情地说。
　　"那是群鹅，小姑娘们，"叔叔回答。他的语调使我们安静下来。后来弗洛坐下来读《卡文迪什船长的调情》，我独自欣赏景致。
　　我们到达伦敦时不用说又在下雨。除了雾和雨伞没什么可看的。我们休息，打开包裹，阵雨之间去了商店。玛丽婶婶给我买了些新东西，因为我出门太匆促，准备得不充分。买了顶饰有蓝羽的白帽子，一件和它相配的棉布衣，还有个你所见过的最漂亮的斗篷。在摄政街购物感觉棒极了，东西似乎很便宜--漂亮的丝带才六便士一码。我购备了一些。但我的手套要到巴黎去买。这听起来是不是有点像讲究的有钱人？
　　叔叔和婶婶出去了，我和弗洛要了部漂亮的出租马车，出去兜风玩儿。后来我们才知道年轻女士单独坐马车不合适。那太有意思了！当时我们给木头挡板关进了车厢，马夫车驾得那么快，弗洛吓坏了，叫我止住他。可是，他坐在车厢外面后部的什么地方，我没法接近他。他既听不见我的叫声，也看不见我在用阳伞拍打着车厢前部。就这样，我们无可奈何地哒哒哒地行驶着，以极其危险的速度旋转过一个个拐角。最后，无计可施之际我看见车厢顶上有个小门。我刚把它捣开，一只红眼睛便出现了，一个微醉的声音说--"喂喂，小姐？"我尽量严肃地下了指令，马夫应着"是，是，小姐"，砰地关上门，骑着马走起来，仿佛是去参加葬礼。我又伸出头说："稍快一点。"于是，又像刚才那样策马飞奔。我们只好束手听命。
　　今天天气好，我们去了附近的海德公园，因为，我们比外表看上去更贵族气一些。德文郡的公爵就住在附近。我常看到他的男仆在后门闲逛。威灵顿公爵的宅第离这里也不远。我的天哪！我看到的是什么样的景象啊！和木偶剧的角儿一样好看。胖胖的老年贵妇们乘坐的红色、黄色马车到处滚动，漂亮的仆从脚着长统丝袜，身穿天鹅绒外衣坐在车后，搽了粉的赶马人坐在车前。伶俐的女仆带着面色非常红润的孩子。端庄秀丽的姑娘们看上去似睡非睡。戴着古怪的英国帽和淡紫色小山羊皮手套的美少年们漫步悠游。高个儿士兵们穿着红色的短夹克，歪戴着粉饼样的呢帽。这一切看上去那么滑稽，我真想为他们作幅速写。
　　练马林荫路是指"ＲｏｕｔｅｄｅＲｏｉ"，也就是国王路。但是现在它更像个马术学校。那些马都很棒。那些人，尤其是马夫们，骑术很好。然而，妇人们绷直着腿，在马上乱蹦。那可不是我们的规则。我真想让她们看看美国式的骑马飞奔。她们穿着单薄的骑装，戴着高帽子，表情严肃，一颠一颠地打马小跑着。看着就像玩具诺亚方舟里的女人。这儿每个人都会骑马--老人、健壮的妇人、小孩子们--这里的年轻人就爱谈情说爱。我看到过一对年轻人交换玫瑰花蕾，钮扣眼里插一朵花蕾很别致。我想，这个主意很不错。
　　下午去了威斯敏斯特教堂。可是别指望我给你们描述它，那不可能--我只能告诉你们它非常雄伟。今晚我们打算去看戏"费切特"。那将恰到好处地结束我一生中最幸福的这一天。
　　午夜
　　已经很晚了，可是，不把昨晚发生的事告诉你们，我早上就不能发掉这封信。昨天我们吃茶时，你们猜谁来了？劳里的英国朋友，弗雷德·沃恩和弗兰克·沃恩！我太吃惊了！
　　要不是看了名片我都认不出他们了。两个人都长成大高个了，都长着络腮胡子。弗雷德英俊潇洒，美国味十足。弗兰克情况好多了，他只有些微跛，不用拐杖了。他们收到劳里的信，得知我们在哪，过来邀请我们去他们家；可是叔叔不肯去，所以我们打算回访。他们和我们一起去看了戏。我们玩得真是惬意非常。弗兰克一味和弗洛交谈，而弗雷德和我讲着过去的、现在的、将来的趣事，好像我们一直都彼此了解。告诉贝思，弗兰克问起了她，听说她身体不好很难过。我谈到乔时弗雷德笑了，他向"那个大帽子致敬"。他们两人都没有忘记劳伦斯营地，也没有忘记我们在那里有过的欢乐。似乎那是很长时间以前的事了，是不是？
　　婶婶已经是第三次敲墙壁了，所以我必须停笔了。我真的像一个放荡的伦敦上流妇女，坐在这里写信写得这么晚，屋子里满是漂亮的东西，脑子里乱七八糟地装着公园、剧院、新衣裙以及那些会献殷勤的男士们。他们说着"啊"，带着道地的英国贵族气派用手缠绕着金黄色小胡子。我非常想见到你们大家。虽然我说了这许多废话，我永远是你们忠实的艾美巴黎亲爱的姐姐们：上封信我和你们谈到了伦敦回访一事--沃恩一家太客气了，他们为我们举行了令人难忘的社交聚会。所有的事情当中，我最欣赏的是去汉普顿展览馆和肯辛顿博物馆--因为，在汉普顿我看到了拉斐尔的草图，在博物馆，我参观了一个个放满着画的陈列室。这些画出自诱纳、劳伦斯、雷诺兹、贺加斯以及其他一些伟大画家之手。在里士满公园度过的那天很有趣，我们搞了个正规的英国式野餐，公园里有许多极好的橡树，有一群群小鹿，太多了我都临摹不完。我还听到了夜莺的啼鸣，看到云雀直冲云霄。多亏了弗雷德和弗兰克，我们尽情"享受"了伦敦，离开它感到难过。我想，虽然伦敦人要很长时间才能接纳你，可一旦他们决定接纳，谁也别想超过他们待客的热情。沃恩一家希望明年冬天在罗马见到我们。如果见不到他们，我会非常失望的。因为格雷斯是我的好朋友，两个男孩也很不错--特别是弗雷德。
　　且说，我们在这里还没有安顿下来，弗雷德又出现了，说是来度假的，打算去瑞士。婶婶开始严肃起来，但是他处事很慎重，婶婶也就无话可说了。现在我们相处得很不错。很高兴他来了，因为他的法语说得像当地人。要是没有他真不知道我们该怎么办。叔叔懂的法语还不到十个字，他一贯用英语高门大嗓说话，好像那样就能让别人听懂他的话。婶婶的发音是老式的。虽然我和弗洛自以为懂不少法语，结果发现情况并非如此。非常高兴能有弗雷德"讲话"，叔叔就是这么说他的。
　　我们过得多么惬意啊！从早到晚观光，在装饰华丽的餐馆停下来吃丰盛的午餐，经历各种各样令人解颐的奇遇。下雨天我就待在罗浮宫，沉迷于画中。对那些艺术精疲乔会翘起她淘气的鼻子，因为她对艺术没有热情，可是我有。我尽快地培养艺术眼光与趣味。她会更喜欢伟人的纪念物。在这里我看到了拿破仑的三角帽和灰大衣，他小孩的摇篮以及他的旧牙刷；还有玛丽·安托瓦内特王后的小鞋子，圣丹尼斯主教的戒指，查理曼大帝的剑等其他许多有趣的东西。我回家后会和你们谈上几小时的，可是现在没时间写了。
　　皇宫非常漂亮--里面有那么多珠宝，那么多美丽的东西，我都快要发狂了，因为我买不起它们。弗雷德要为我买一些，可我当然不能让他这么做。还有那林园和香榭丽舍大街，ｔｒèｓｍａｇｎｉeｉｑｕｅ。我见过几次皇室成员--皇帝很丑，看上去很冷酷，皇后面色苍白，很美，可是打扮得不雅致，我想--紫裙子、绿帽子、黄手套。小拿卜是个漂亮的男孩，他坐在四轮大马车里和他的导师闲谈着，向他们经过的人群飞着吻，车上左马骑手们穿着红缎子夹克，车前车后各有一个骑马卫兵。
　　我们常去杜伊勒利花园散步，那里非常漂亮，尽管那古色古香的卢森堡公园更合我意。ＰèｒｅｌａＣｈａｉｓｅ非常令人好奇，因为许多墓穴像小屋子，往里看，可以看见一张桌子，上面有死者的画像，还有为前来吊唁的人们设的坐椅。那真太有法国味了。
　　我们的屋子位于里佛利街，坐在阳台上，我们眺望着长街的迷人景色。白天玩累了，晚上不想出去时在阳台上闲聊真是令人惬意。弗雷德非常有趣，他是我所遇见的最令人愉快的小伙子--除了劳里，劳里的风度更迷人。但愿弗雷德是黑皮肤，因为我不喜欢皮肤白的男人。可是沃恩家富有，门第高贵，我也就不挑剔他们的黄头发了，再说，我的头发比他们的还要黄。
　　下星期我们要出发去德国和瑞士。我们行程匆匆，所以我只能仓促地给你们写信了。我将记日记，尽量"正确地记注清楚地描绘我们见到的和欣赏的一切"，像爸爸建议的那样。那对我是个很好的锻炼，我的日记和速写本会比这些胡言乱语让你们更好地了解我的旅行。
　　Ａｄｉｅｕ，亲切地拥抱你们。
　　你们的艾美
　　海德堡
亲爱的妈妈：
　　动身去伯尔尼前还有一小时的清静，我来告诉你发生了些什么，你会看到，其中一些事非常重要。
　　沿着莱茵河航行非常美妙，我只是坐在船上全身心地享受着。找来爸爸那些旧旅行指南读一读吧，我的语言不够美，描绘不出那种景致。在科布伦次，我们过得很快活。弗雷德在船上结识的几个波恩学生为我们演奏了小夜曲。那是个月光皎洁的夜晚，大约一点钟左右，我和弗洛被窗下传来的一阵妙曼的歌声弄醒了。我们一跃而起，躲到窗帘后，偷偷往外看，原来是弗雷德和那些学生在窗下不停地唱歌。这可是我见过的最浪漫的情景--那河、那船桥、对岸的城堡、如洗的月光，还有那动人心弦的音乐。
　　等他们唱完，我们便朝下扔花束，看到他们争抢着，对着看不见的女士们飞吻，然后笑着走开了--我猜是去抽烟、喝啤酒。第二天早上，弗雷德给我看插在他背心口袋里的一朵弄皱了的花，他看上去充满柔情。我笑话他，说那不是我扔的，是弗洛扔的，这迫使他失意。他把花扔出窗外，头脑又冷静下来。我担心会和这个男孩发生麻烦事，已经开始有点苗头了。
　　拿骚的温泉浴场令人快乐，巴当-巴当市的也是这样。弗雷德在那里丢了些钱，我责备了他。弗兰克不和他在一起时弗雷德需要人照顾。凯特曾经说她希望他赶快结婚。我有同感，他需要结婚。法兰克福令人愉快，在那里我看到了歌德的故居，席勒的雕像，丹内苛尔著名的《阿里阿德涅》，故事非常好，可要是我对这故事知道得多一些我会更欣赏的。我不愿问别人，每个人都知道这故事，或者假装知道。希望乔能把故事全讲给我听。我本来应该多读些书的，因为我现在发现我什么都不知道，真后悔。
　　现在说说正经事吧--它发生在这里，弗雷德刚走。他一直彬彬有礼，有趣味，我们都喜欢他。在唱小夜曲的夜晚之前，我一直只把他看作一起旅游的朋友，从未想过别的。打那以后，我开始感觉到，那月光下的散步、阳台上的闲聊、每日的奇遇，对他来说，意义超出娱乐之外。我没有调情，妈妈，真的。我记住了你对我说的话，尽了最大的努力。我没法阻止别人喜欢我。我没有讨好他们，要是我不喜欢他们，我还会着急的，尽管乔会说我没有感情。我知道妈妈会摇头，姐姐们会说："哦，这个唯利是图的小坏蛋！"可是，我已经打定主意，如果弗雷德向我求婚，我就接受，虽然我没有狂热地爱上他。我喜欢他，我们在一起相处很愉快。他英竣年轻、十分聪明、非常富有--比劳伦斯家富得多。我想他家人不会反对的。我将非常幸福，因为他们全家人都很友善、有教养、慷慨大方，他们喜欢我。弗雷德作为双胞胎中的老大，我想，将会得到房产。那是一座多么令人满意的住宅啊！房子位于市区上流社会的街区，不像我们家的大房子那样显眼，但是住在里面的舒适程度远远超过我们。房子里满是英国人推崇的纯粹的奢侈品。我喜欢这样，那些可都是地地道道的。
　　我见过那刻有姓氏的金属牌、家传珍宝、老仆人，以及乡下别墅的照片，上面有花园、大房子、可爱的庭院，还有骏马，哦，我还能求什么呢？我宁愿拥有这些，可不要女孩们乐意抢夺的什么爵位了，我觉得这样也没拉下什么。我可能是唯利是图，但是，我讨厌贫穷。只要有可能我一分钟也不能忍受贫穷。我们中必须有一个人嫁给富人；梅格没有，乔不会这么做，贝思还不能够，所以我将这么做，把我们身边的一切都变得舒适。我不会去嫁给一个我讨厌或者看不起的人，你们可以确信。虽然弗雷德不是我理想的英雄，但他做得不错，如果他非常喜欢我，让我随心所欲，总有一天我会十分喜欢他的。所以，上个星期，我一直在脑中考虑这件事。显而易见弗雷德喜欢我。他什么也没说，但是一些小事情表明了一切。他从不和弗洛一起走，坐车、吃饭、散步时，他总是在我这一边，当我们单独在一起时，他看上去总是柔情万端。谁要是和我说话，他就对谁皱眉头。昨天晚宴时，一个奥地利官员目不转睛地看着我们，然后和他的朋友--一个时髦的男爵--说了些什么"ｅｉｎｗｏｎｄｅｒｓｃｈｏAｎｅｓＢｌｏAｎｄｃｈｅｎ"，弗雷德愤怒得像头狮子，他狠命地切着肉，差点把肉弄出盘子外。他不是那种冷静傲慢的英国人，但是脾气相当暴躁，因为他身上有着苏格兰的血统，这一点我们从他美丽的蓝眼睛就可以猜出。
　　嗯，昨天日落时分我们去了城堡--除了弗雷德，所有人都去了，他先去待领邮局取信，然后来会我们。我们信步漫游，看看废墟，看看存放大酒桶的地窖，看看早年选帝侯为他的英国妻子建造的美丽花园。我们玩得很开心。我最喜欢那大平台，在那儿可以看到绝妙的景色。因此，当其他人进屋子里去观察时，我坐在平台上，试着画下墙上的灰色石狮子，狮头周围悬挂着红色忍冬。我感到像是身处一种罗曼蒂克的氛围。坐在那里，看着内卡河在山谷中奔腾穿行，听着奥地利乐队在城堡下演奏的乐曲，等着我的情人。我真的像故事书中的女孩。我感觉要发生什么事，我已做好准备。我不脸红，不战栗。我相当冷静，只稍稍有点激动。
　　不一会儿，我听见了弗雷德的声音。他匆匆穿过大拱门找我。他看上去那样不安，我忘掉了自己，问他怎么回事，他说他刚收到一封信，要他回家，因为弗兰克病得很厉害；他马上就坐夜车走，时间只够道个别。我为他非常难过，也为我自己感到失望。可是难过、失望只有一会儿，因为他握着我的手说--说话的口气我不会误解的--"我不久就会回来的。你不会忘了我吧，艾美？"我没有许诺，只是看着他，他似乎满意了。没有时间做别的事了，只能互相祝愿，道别。一小时后他便走了。我们大家都非常想念他。我知道他想说出来，但是从他曾经作出的暗示，我想他答应过他爸爸暂时不提这事，因为他是个还未成熟的男孩，而且老先生害怕要一个外国媳妇。不久我们将在罗马相遇。到那时，如果我没改变主意，他问我"愿意吗？"我就说"愿意，谢谢"。
　　当然，这件事是个大秘密。不过我希望您知道事情的进展。别为我担心。记住我是您"精明的艾美"。确信我不会做出鲁莽的事情来的。期待母亲示教，女儿将慎思采纳。望能见到您一畅己怀，妈咪。爱我吧，相信我。
　　永远属于您的
　　艾美

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一二三四五六七~~~

举报只看该作者 33楼发表于: 2013-10-25 0

Chapter Thirty-two Tender Troubles

"Jo, I'm anxious about Beth."
"Why, Mother, she has seemed unusually well since the babies came."
"It's not her health that troubles me now, it's her spirits. I'm sure there is something on her mind, and I want you to discover what it is."
"What makes you think so, Mother?"
"She sits alone a good deal, and doesn't talk to her father as much as she used. I found her crying over the babies the other day. When she sings, the songs are always sad ones, and now and then I see a look in her face that I don't understand. This isn't like Beth, and it worries me."
"Have you asked her about it?'
"I have tried once or twice, but she either evaded my questions or looked so distressed that I stopped. I never force my children's confidence, and I seldom have to wait for long."
Mrs. March glanced at Jo as she spoke, but the face opposite seemed quite unconscious of any secret disquietude but Beth's, and after sewing thoughtfully for a minute, Jo said, "I think she is growing up, and so begins to dream dreams, and have hopes and fears and fidgets, without knowing why or being able to explain them. Why, Mother, Beth's eighteen, but we don't realize it, and treat her like a child, forgetting she's a woman."
"So she is. Dear heart, how fast you do grow up," returned her mother with a sigh and a smile.
"Can't be helped, Marmee, so you must resign yourself to all sorts of worries, and let your birds hop out of the nest, one by one. I promise never to hop very far, if that is any comfort to you."
"It's a great comfort, Jo. I always feel strong when you are at home, now Meg is gone. Beth is too feeble and Amy too young to depend upon, but when the tug comes, you are always ready."
"Why, you know I don't mind hard jobs much, and there must always be one scrub in a family. Amy is splendid in fine works and I'm not, but I feel in my element when all the carpets are to be taken up, or half the family fall sick at once. Amy is distinguishing herself abroad, but if anything is amiss at home, I'm your man."
"I leave Beth to your hands, then, for she will open her tender little heart to her Jo sooner than to anyone else. Be very kind, and don't let her think anyone watches or talks about; her. If she only would get quite strong and cheerful again, I shouldn't have a wish in the world."
"Happy woman! I've got heaps."
"My dear, what are they?"
"I'll settle Bethy's troubles, and then I'll tell you mine. They are not very wearing, so they'll keep." And Jo stitched away, with a wise nod which set her mother's heart at rest about her for the present at least.
While apparently absorbed in her own affairs, Jo watched Beth, and after many conflicting conjectures, finally settled upon one which seemed to explain the change in her. A slight incident gave Jo the clue to the mystery, she thought, and lively fancy, loving heart did the rest. She was affecting to write busily one Saturday afternoon, when she and Beth were alone together. Yet as she scribbled, she kept her eye on her sister, who seemed unusually quiet. Sitting at the window, Beth's work often dropped into her lap, and she leaned her head upon her hand, in a dejected attitude, while her eyes rested on the dull, autumnal landscape. Suddenly some one passed below, whistling like an operatic blackbird, and a voice called out, "All serene! Coming in tonight."
Beth started, leaned forward, smiled and nodded, watched the passer-by till his quick tramp died away, then said softly as if to herself, "How strong and well and happy that dear boy looks."
"Hum!" said Jo, still intent upon her sister's face, for the bright color faded as quickly as it came, the smile vanished, and presently a tear lay shining on the window ledge. Beth whisked it off, and in her half-averted face read a tender sorrow that made her own eyes fill. Fearing to betray herself, she slipped away, murmuring something about needing more paper.
"Mercy on me, Beth loves Laurie!" she said, sitting down in her own room, pale with the shock of the discovery which she believed she had just made. "I never dreamed of such a thing. What will Mother say? I wonder if her..." there Jo stopped and turned scarlet with a sudden thought. "If he shouldn't love back again, how dreadful it would be. He must. I'll make him!" And she shook her head threateningly at the picture of the mischievous- looking boy laughing at her from the wall. "Oh dear, we are growing up with a vengeance. Here's Meg married and a mamma, Amy flourishing away at Paris, and Beth in love. I'm the only one that has sense enough to keep out of mischief." Jo thought intently for a minute with her eyes fixed on the picture, then she smoothed out her wrinkled forehead and said, with a decided nod at the face opposite, "No thank you, sir, you're very charming, but you've no more stability than a weathercock. So you needn't write touching notes and smile in that insinuating way, for it won't do a bit of good, and I won't have it."
Then she sighed, and fell into a reverie from which she did not wake till the early twilight sent her down to take new observations, which only confirmed her suspicion. Though Laurie flirted with Amy and joked with Jo, his manner to Beth had always been peculiarly kind and gentle, but so was everybody's. Therefore, no one thought of imagining that he cared more for her than for the others. Indeed, a general impression had prevailed in the family of late that `our boy' was getting fonder than ever of Jo, who, however, wouldn't hear a word upon the subject and scolded violently if anyone dared to suggest it. If they had known the various tender passages which had been nipped in the bud, they would have had the immense satisfaction of saying, "I told you so." But Jo hated `philandering', and wouldn't allow it, always having a joke or a smile ready at the least sign of impending danger. When Laurie first went to college, he fell in love about once a month, but these small flames were as brief as ardent, did no damage, and much amused Jo, who took great interest in the alternations of hop, despair, and resignation, which were confided to her in their weekly conferences. But there came a time when Laurie ceased to worship at many shrines, hinted darkly at one all-absorbing passion, and indulged occasionally in Byronic fits of gloom. Then he avoided the tender subject altogether, wrote philosophical notes to Jo, turned studious, and gave out that he was going to `dig', intending to graduate in a blaze of glory. This suited the young lady better than twilight confidences, tender pressures of the hand, and eloquent glances of the eye, for with Jo, brain developed earlier than heart, and she preferred imaginary heroes to real ones, because when tired of them, the former could be shut up in the tin kitchen till called for, and the latter were less manageable.
Things were in this state when the grand discovery was made, and Jo watched Laurie that night as she had never done before. If she had not got the new idea into her head, she would have seen nothing unusual in the fact that Beth was very quiet, and Laurie very kind to her. But having given the rein to her lively fancy, it galloped away with her at a great pace, and common sense, being rather weakened by a long course or romance writing, did not come to the rescue. As usual Beth lay on the sofa and Laurie sat in a low chair close by, amusing her with all sorts of gossip, for she depended on her weekly `spin', and he never disappointed her. But that evening Jo fancied that Beth's eyes rested on the lively, dark face beside her with peculiar pleasure, and that she listened with intense interest to an account of some exciting cricket match, though the phrases, `caught off a tice', `stumped off his ground'', and `the leg hit for three', were as intelligible to her as Sanskrit. She also fancied, having set her heart upon seeing it, that she saw a certain increase of gentleness in Laurie's manner, that he dropped his voice now and then, laughed less than usual, was a little absent--minded, and settled the afghan over Beth's feet with an assiduity that was really almost tender.
"Who knows? Stranger things have happened," thought Jo, as she fussed about the room. "She will make quite an angel of him, and he will make life delightfully easy and pleasant for the dear, if they only love each other. I don't see how he can help it, and I do believe he would if the rest of us were out of the way."
As everyone was out of the way but herself, Jo began to feel that she ought to dispose of herself with all speed. But where should she go? And burning to lay herself upon the shrine of sisterly devotion, she sat down to settle that point.
Now, the old sofa was a regular patriarch of a sofa--long, broad, well-cushioned, and low, a trifle shabby, as well it might be, for the girls had slept and sprawled on it as babies, fished over the back, rode on the arms, and had menageries under it as children, and rested tired heads, dreamed dreams, and listened to tender talk on it as young women. They all loved it, for it was a family refuge, and one corner had always been Jo's favorite lounging place. Among the many pillows that adorned the venerable couch was one, hard, round, covered with prickly horsehair, and furnished with a knobby button at each end. This repulsive pillow was her especial property, being used as a weapon of defense, a barricade, or a stern preventive of too much slumber.
Laurie knew this pillow well, and had cause to regard it with deep aversion, having been unmercifully pummeled with it in former days when romping was allowed, and now frequently debarred by it from the seat he most coveted next ot Jo in the sofa corner. If `the sausage' as the called it, stood on end, it was a sign that he might approach and repose, but if it lay flat across the sofa, woe to man, woman, or child who dared disturb it! That evening Jo forgot to barricade her corner, and had not been in her seat five minutes, before a massive form appeared beside her, and with both arms spread over the sofa back, both long legs stretched out before him, Laurie exclaimed, with a sigh of satisfaction...
"Now, this is filling at the price."
"No slang," snapped Jo, slamming down the pillow. But it was too late, there was no room for it, and coasting onto the floor, it disappeared in a most mysterious manner.
"Come, Jo, don't be thorny. After studying himself to a skeleton all the week, a fellow deserves petting and ought to get it."
"Beth will pet you. I'm busy."
"No, she's not to be bothered with me, but you like that sort
of thing, unless you've suddenly lost your taste for it. Have you?
Do you hate your boy, and want to fire pillows at him?"
Anything more wheedlesome than that touching appeal was seldom heard, but Jo quenched `her boy' by turning on him with a stern query, "How many bouquets have you sent Miss Randal this week?"
"Not one, upon my word. She's engaged. Now then."
"I'm glad of it, that's one of your foolish extravagances, sending flowers and things to girls for whom you don't care two pins," continued Jo reprovingly.
"Sensible girls for whom I do care whole papers of pins won't let me send them `flowers and things', so what can I do? My feelings need a` vent'."
"Mother doesn't approve of flirting even in fun, and you do flirt desperately, Teddy."
"I'd give anything if I could answer, `So do you'. As I can't, I'll merely say that I don't see any harm in that pleasant little game, if all parties understand that it's only play."
"Well, it does look pleasant, but I can't learn how it's done. I've tried, because one feels awkward in company not to do as everybody else id doing, but I don't seem to get on", said Jo, forgetting to play mentor.
"Take lessons of Amy, she has a regular talent for it."
"Yes, she does it very prettily, and never seems to go too far. I suppose it's natural to some people to please without trying, and others to always say and do the wrong thing in the wrong place."
"I'm glad you can't flirt. It's really refreshing to see a sensible, straightforward girl, who can be jolly and kind without making a fool of herself. Between ourselves, Jo, some of the girls I know really do go on at such a rate I'm ashamed of them. They don't mean any harm, I'm sure, but if they knew how we fellows talked about them afterward, they'd mend their ways, I fancy."
"They do the same, and as their tongues are the sharpest, you fellows get the worst of it, for you are as silly as they, every bit. If you behaved properly, they would, but knowing you like their nonsense, they keep it up, and then you blame them."
"Much you know about it, ma'am," said Laurie in a superior tone. "We don't like romps and flirts, though we may act as if we did sometimes. The pretty, modest girls are never talked about, except respectfully, among gentleman. Bless your innocent soul! If you could be in my place for a month you'd see things that would astonish you a trifle. Upon my word, when I see one of those harum-scarum girls, I always want to say with our friend Cock Robin...
"Out upon you, fie upon you, Bold-faced jig!"
It was impossible to help laughing at the funny conflict between Laurie's chivalrous reluctance to speak ill of womankind, and his very natural dislike of the unfeminine folly of which fashionable society showed him many samples. Jo knew that `young Laurence' was regarded as a most eligible parti by worldly mamas, was much smiled upon by their daughters, and flattered enough by ladies of all ages to make a coxcomb of him, so she watched him rather jealously, fearing he would be spoiled, and rejoiced more than she confessed to find that he still believed in modest girls. Returning suddenly to her admonitory tone, she said, dropping her voice, "If you must have a `went', Teddy, go and devote yourself to one of the `pretty, modest girls' whom you do respect, and not waste your time with the silly ones."
"You really advise it?" And Laurie looked at her with an odd mixture of anxiety and merriment in his face.
"Yes, I do, but you'd better wait till you are through college, on the whole, and be fitting yourself for the place meantime. You're not half good enough for--well, whoever the modest girl may be." And Jo looked a little queer likewise, for a name had almost escaped her.
"That I'm not!" acquiesced Laurie, with an expression of humility quite new to him, as he dropped his eyes and absently wound Jo's apron tassel round his finger.
"Mercy on us, this will never do," thought Jo, adding aloud, "Go and sing to me. I'm dying for some music, and always like yours."
"I'd rather stay here, thank you."
"Well, you can't, there isn't room. Go and make yourself useful, since you are too big to be ornamental. I thought you hated to be tied to a woman's apron string?" retorted Jo, quoting certain rebellious words of his own.
"Ah, that depends on who wears the apron!" and Laurie gave an audacious tweak at the tassel.
"Are you going?" demanded Jo, diving for the pillow.
He fled at once, and the minute it was well, "Up with the bonnets of bonnie Dundee," she slipped away to return no more till the young gentleman departed in high dudgeon.
Jo lay long awake that night, and was just dropping off when the sound of a stifled sob made her fly to Beth's bedside, with the anxious inquiry, "What is it, dear?"
"I thought you were asleep," sobbed Beth.
"Is it the old pain, my precious?'
"No, it's a new one, but I can bear it." And Beth tried to check her tears.
"Tell me all about it, and let me cure it as I often did the other."
"You can't, there is no cure." There Beth's voice gave way, and clinging to her sister, she cried so despairingly that Jo was frightened.
"Where is it? Shall I call Mother?"
"No, no, don't call her, don't tell her. I shall be better soon. Lie down here and `poor' my head. I'll be quiet and go to sleep, indeed I will." Jo obeyed, but as her hand went softly to and fro across Beth's hot forehead and wet eyelids, her heart was very full and she longed to speak. But young as she was, Jo had learned that hearts, like flowers, cannot be rudely handled, but must open naturally, so though she believed she knew the cause of Beth's new pain, she only said, in her tenderest tone, "Does anything trouble you, deary?"
"Yes, Jo," after a long pause.
"Wouldn't it comfort you to tell me what it is?"
"not now, not yet."
"Then I won't ask, but remember, Bethy, that Mother and Jo are always glad to hear and help you, if they can."
"I know it. I'll tell you by-and-by."
"Is the pain better now?"
"Oh, yes, much better, you are so comfortable, Jo."
"Go to sleep, dear. I'll stay with you."
So cheek to cheek they fell asleep, and on the morrow Beth seemed quite herself again, for at eighteen neither heads nor hearts ache long, and a loving word can medicine most ills.
But Jo had made up her mind, and after pondering over a project for some days, she confided it to her mother.
"You asked me the other day what my wishes were. I'll tell you one of them, Marmee," she began, as they sat along together. "I want to go away somewhere this winter for a change."
"Why, Jo?" And her mother looked up quickly, as if the words suggested a double meaning.
With her eyes on her work Jo answered soberly, "I want something new. I feel restless and anxious to be seeing, doing, and learning more than I am. I brood too much over my own small affairs, and need stirring up, so as I can be spared this winter, I'd like to hop a little way and try my wings."
"Where will you hop?"
"To New York. I had a bright idea yesterday, and this is it. You know Mrs. Kirke wrote to you for some respectable young person to teach her children and sew. It's rather hard to find just the thing, but I think I should suit if I tried."
"My dear, go out to service in that great boarding house!" And Mrs. March looked surprised, but not displeased.
"It's not exactly going out to service, for Mrs. Kirke is your friend--the kindest soul that ever lived--and would make things pleasant for me, I know. Her family is separate from the rest, and no one knows me there. Don't care if they do. It's honest work, and I'm not ashamed of it."
"Nor I. But your writing?"
"All the better for the change. I shall see and hear new things, get new ideas, and even if I haven't much time there, I shall bring home quantities of material for my rubbish."
"I have no doubt of it, but are these your only reasons for this sudden fancy?'
"No, Mother."
"May I know the others?"
Jo looked up and Jo looked down, then said slowly, with sudden color in her cheeks. "It may be vain and wrong to say it, but--I'm afraid--Laurie is getting too fond of me."
"Then you don't care for him in the way it is evident he begins to care for you?' And Mrs. March looked anxious as she put the question.
"Mercy, no! I love the dear boy, as I always have, and am immensely proud of him, but as for anything more, it's out of the question."
"I'm glad of that, Jo."
"Why, please?'
"Because, dear, I don't think you suited to one another. As friends you are very happy, and your frequent quarrels soon blow over, but I fear you would both rebel if you were mated for life. You are too much alike and too fond of freedom, not to mention hot tempers and strong wills, to get on happily together, in a relation which needs infinite patience and forbearance, as well as love."
"That's just the feeling I had, though I couldn't express it. I'm glad you think he is only beginning to care for me. It would trouble me sadly to make him unhappy, for I couldn't fall in love with the dear old fellow merely out of gratitude, could I?"
"You are sure of his feeling for you?"
The color deepened in Jo's cheeks as she answered, with the look of mingled pleasure, pride, and pain which young girls wear when speaking of first lovers, "I'm afraid it is so, Mother. He hasn't said anything, but he looks a great deal. I think I had better go away before it comes to anything."
"I agree with you, and if it can be managed you shall go."
Jo looked relieved, and after a pause, said, smiling, "How Mrs. Moffat would wonder at your want of management, if she knew, and how she will rejoice that Annie may still hope."
"AH, Jo, mothers may differ in their management, but the hope is the same in all--the desire to see their children happy. Meg is so, and I am content with her success. You I leave to enjoy your liberty till you tire of it, for only then will you find that there is something sweeter. Amy is my chief care now, but her good sense will help ;her. For Beth, I indulge no hopes except that she may be well. By the way, she seems brighter this last day or two. Have you spoken to her?'
"Yes, she owned she had a trouble, and promised to tell me by-and-by. I said no more, for I think I know it," And Jo told her little story.
Mrs. March shook her head, and did not take so romantic a view of the case, but looked grave, and repeated her opinion that for Laurie's sake Jo should go away for a time.
"Let us say nothing about it to him till the plan is settled, then I'll run away before he can collect his wits and be tragic. Beth must think I'm going to please myself, as I am, for I can't talk about Laurie to her. But she can pet and comfort him after I'm gone, and so cure him of this romantic notion. He's been through so many little trials of the sort, he's used to it, and will soon get over his lovelornity."
Jo spoke hopefully, but could not rid herself of the foreboding fear that this `little trial' would be harder than the others, and that Laurie would not get over his `lovelornity' as easily as heretofore.
The plan was talked over in a family council and agreed upon, for Mrs. Kirke gladly accepted Jo, and promised to make a pleasant home for her. The teaching would render her independent, and such leisure as she got might be made profitable by writing, while the new scenes and society would be both useful and agreeable. Jo liked the prospect and was eager to be gone, for the home nest was growing too narrow for her restless nature and adventurous spirit. When all was settled, with fear and trembling she told Laurie, but to her surprise he took it very quietly. He had been graver than usual of late, but very pleasant, and when jokingly accused of turning over a new leaf, he answered soberly, "So I am, and I mean this one shall stay turned."
Jo was very much relieved that one of his virtuous fits should come on just then, and made her preparations with a lightened heart, for Beth seemed more cheerful, and hoped she was doing the best for all.
"One thing I leave in your especial care," she said, the night before she left.
"You mean your papers?" asked Beth. "No, my boy. Be very good to him, won't you?"
"Of course I will, but I can't fill your place, and he'll miss you sadly."
"It won't hurt him, so remember, I leave him in your charge, to plague, pet, and keep in order."
"I'll do my best, for your sake," promised Beth, wondering why Jo looked at her so queerly.
When Laurie said good-by, he whispered significantly, "It won't do a bit of good, Jo. My eye is on you, so mind what you do, or I'll come and bring you home."

第三十二章温柔的烦恼

　　"乔，我为贝思着急。"
　　"为什么，妈妈？自从有了那两个孩子，她身体似乎比往日好。""现在我担心的不是她的身体，而是她的情绪。我肯定她有心事。我要你去弄清楚是怎么回事。""是什么让你这样想的，妈妈？""她常常一个人坐在那里，不像原先那样常和你爸说话。
　　她唱歌总唱悲哀的歌。脸上的神情也时常让我捉摸不透。这不像贝思，我真担心。""你可问过她？""我试过一两次，可是她要么回避，要么显得很难过，我只好不问。我从不强迫我的孩子们向我吐露心事。我也极少要等很长时间，她们会告诉我的。"马奇太太一边说着，一边扫视着乔。但是对面那张脸上的表情似乎完全不知道贝思的心事。乔若有所思地做了会针线，然后说："我想她是长大了，开始做梦了，她希望着，担心着，又烦躁不安，她不知道为什么，也没法儿解释。哎呀，妈，贝思已经十八岁了，我们却没有意识到。我们忘了她是个女人，还把她当孩子待。""可不是嘛，亲爱的宝贝们，你们那么快就长大了。"妈妈笑着又叹了一口气。
　　"妈咪，这可是没办法的事。所以您就别操那样的烦心事了，让你的小鸟们一只接一只地飞出去吧。我保证我不会飞得很远的，如果那样能使你得到安慰的话。""那真让人宽慰，乔。现在梅格出了门，只要你在家，我总感到有力量。贝思太虚弱，艾美太年轻，依靠不上她们。可是每逢有苦活重活，你都能帮我一把。""哎呀，你知道我不太在乎干重活的。一个家总得有一个擦擦洗洗的人。艾美擅长做精美的艺术品，而我不行。可要是家里的地毯都需要清理，或者家里有一半人同时生了病，我便感到适得其所。艾美在国外干得很出色。假如家里出了什么事，我就是你的帮手。""那我就把贝思交给你了，因为，她会最先向她的乔敞开她小小的柔弱的心房。要非常友善，别让她以为别人在观察她，谈论她。只要她能重新强健起来，愉快起来，我什么也不希求了。""幸福的女人！我也有一大堆烦恼。""亲爱的，什么烦恼？""我先解决好贝思的烦心事，然后再把我的告诉你。我的不是太烦人，随它去吧。"乔贤慧地点点头，继续缝着。这使妈妈至少在目前不为她担忧了。
　　乔表面上忙于自己的事，暗中却在观察着贝思。她作出许多推测，又一一推翻，最后她拿准了一种，似乎能解释贝思的变化。她认为，是一件小事为她提供了解开秘密的线索，剩下的则是由活跃的想象和一颗爱心去解决的。那是一个星期六的下午，她和贝思单独在一起。她假装忙着写东西，可是她一边胡乱写着，一边注意着贝思。贝思看上去很安静。她坐在窗口，针线活不时掉到膝盖上，也不在意，她情绪低落地用手抚着头，目光停留在窗外萧索的秋色上。忽然，有人像爱唱歌的画眉一样吹着口哨从窗下走过，然后便听到一个声音："一切都好，我今晚来！"贝思一惊，她倾过身子，微笑着点点头，注视着这个过路人，直到他急促的脚步声消失。然后她自言自语般地轻声说："那可爱的男孩看上去多么健壮，多么快乐啊！""呀！"乔仍然目不转睛地看着妹妹的脸。那张脸上的红晕来得快去得也快，笑容也没了，一转眼，窗台上滴上了一滴闪光的泪珠。贝思赶忙将它擦去，担心地瞥了一眼乔，乔正在奋笔疾书，显然她全神贯注于《奥林匹亚的誓言》。可是贝思一转头，乔又开始注意她，她看到贝思不止一次地轻轻用手擦眼睛，从贝思半偏的脸上乔察觉到一种动人的哀婉，乔的眼泪也涌出来了。她担心让贝思看见，便嘟囔着还需要些纸，赶紧走开了。
　　"我的天哪，贝思爱上了劳里！"她在自己房里坐下，为她刚才的发现惊得面色发白。"我做梦也没想到过这种事。妈妈会怎么说呢？我不知道他--"乔打住话头，她突然想起什么，脸红了。"要是他也不爱她，会是多么可怕啊！他一定得爱贝思，我得让他这么做！"她威胁地朝墙上劳里的照片摇了摇头。"哦，天啊，我们已经完全长大了。梅格结了婚做了妈妈，艾美在巴黎活跃非凡，贝思在恋爱，只有我一个人还有足够的理智不胡闹。"乔盯着照片专心致志地想了一会儿，然后她抚平额上的皱纹，坚定地朝对面墙上的那张脸点点头说道："不，谢谢你，先生。你是很迷人，但是，你和风向标一样不稳定，随风倒。你不必写那些动人的纸条，也不用那样令人肉麻地微笑。一点用处没有，我可不要那些。"然后，她又叹息着，陷入了沉思，直到薄暮时分才回过神来，下了楼再去观察，结果更证实了她的猜测。虽然劳里和艾美嬉闹，和乔开玩笑，但她对贝思的态度总是特别友善、亲切，可每个人对贝思都是这样的呀，所以没人想到过劳里对贝思比对其他人更关心。确实，这些天全家人普遍感到"我们的男孩"越来越喜欢乔了，而乔对此事一个字也不愿听，假如谁胆敢提及，她就怒骂谁。要是家人知道过去一年里他俩之间说过种种甜言蜜语，或者，想说些甜言蜜语却无法出口，他们必定会非常满意地说："和你这样说过吧？"然而乔讨厌"调情"，不允许有这种事情。她随时准备着一个笑话或一个微笑，要把方露端倪、迫在眉睫的危险应付过去。
　　劳里去上大学的时候，大概每月恋爱一次。但是这些小小的恋火燃烧得炽烈却短暂，没起什么坏作用，也让乔感到很好笑。每个星期她和劳里会面时，劳里都向她倾诉。他情绪反复无常，先是希望，继而绝望，最后放弃，乔对这很感兴趣。然而劳里曾一度不再崇拜众多偶像了，他隐约地暗示出一种专心一意的热情，偶尔又处于一阵阵拜伦式的忧郁心境中。后来他又完全避开柔情的话题。他给乔写冷静的便条，变得用起功来。他宣称打算"钻研"了，要以优异的成绩非常荣光地毕业。较之黄昏时分的交心，温柔的手拉手，意味深长的眼色，劳里这些变化更适合这个年轻的女士。因为，对乔来说，头脑比感情成熟得早些。她更喜欢想象中的英雄，而不是真实的英雄。厌倦了他们时，她可以把想象中的英雄关到她那蹩脚的灶间，需要时再让他出来。可是真实的英雄却不好对付。
　　当乔有了那个重大发现时，情况就是这样。那天晚上，乔以从来没有过的神情注视着劳里。要是她脑中没有这个新的想法，她就不会从贝思很安静，而劳里待她很客气这个事实中发现异样。然而，她让活跃的想象自由发挥，任其飞奔。由于长期写作浪漫传奇，她的常识减弱了，帮不上忙。像往常一样，贝思躺在沙发上，劳里坐在旁边的一张低椅子上，对她天南海北地吹着，逗她，贝思依赖这种每周的"故事"，他也从不让她失望。可是，那天晚上，乔总觉得贝思带着特别快乐的神情，眼睛盯着身旁那张充满生气的黝黑的面孔。她带着极大的兴趣听他讲述一些激动人心的板球赛，虽然那些语句"截住一个贴板球"、"击球员出局"、"一局中三球"对她像梵语一样高深。乔全神贯注地观察他俩，认为劳里的态度更加亲切了。他有时放低声音，笑得比往常少，还有点心不在焉。他殷勤地用软毛毯盖住贝思的脚，那可真算是至柔之情。
　　"谁知道呢？更奇怪的事已发生了，"乔在屋子里东转西转地这样想着，"只要他们相爱，她将把他变得相当可爱，他会使他亲爱的人儿生活得舒适、愉快。我看他会这么做的，我真的相信，如果我们其他人不挡道，他会的。"由于除了她以外，没有人在挡道，乔开始感到她应该尽快给自己找个位置。可是她到哪儿去呢？她怀着热情炽烈的姐妹之情，坐下来解决这个问题。
　　眼下，那张旧沙发成了公认的沙发鼻祖--又长，又宽，填充得饱满，低低的，有点破，也该破了。姑娘们还是婴孩的时候在上面睡觉，躺卧。孩提时，她们在沙发背后掏过东西，也骑过沙发扶手，还把沙发底部当过动物园。长大成小妇人，她们又将疲乏的脑袋靠在上面休息，她们坐在沙发上做着梦，听着柔情绵绵的谈话。大家都爱这张沙发，它是家庭的避难所。沙发的一角一直是乔最喜欢的休息位置。这张历史悠久的长沙发上有许多枕头，其中一个又硬又圆，用有点刺人的马毛呢包住，两头各钉了钮扣，这个叫人不舒服的枕头倒是乔的特殊财产，她用它作防御武器，用它设障，用它严格地防止过多的睡眠。
　　劳里对这个枕头很熟悉，他完全有理由十分讨厌它。以前允许他们顽皮嬉闹时，他被枕头无情地痛击过。现在他非常渴求能坐在沙发这一角乔的身边，可是枕头经常挡道。假如他们所称的这个"腊肠球"竖起来放着，这就是暗示他可以接近。但是假如枕头平放在沙发中间，谁还敢去烦她！不管是大人还是小孩，男人还是女人，都得倒霉。那天晚上，乔忘了把她的角落堵住，她在沙发上坐下来还不到五分钟，身旁就出现了个巨大的身体，两只胳膊平放在沙发背上，两条长腿伸在前面。劳里心满意足地叹了口气，叫道--"哎唷，坐这位子可真不容易。""别说俏皮话，"乔厉声说。她砰地丢下枕头，可是太晚了，枕头没地方放了。枕头滑落到地上，非常神秘地不知滚到哪里去了。
　　"喂，乔，别那样满身长刺。整整一星期人家苦苦学习，弄得骨瘦如柴。他配得到爱抚，也应该得到爱抚。""贝思会爱抚你的，我忙着呢。""不，她不会让我烦她的。而你喜欢，除非你突然没了兴致，是不是？你恨你的男孩子吗？想用枕头砸他？"她从未听过比这更有诱惑力的动人的恳求。然而，她扑灭了"她的男孩"的热情，转向他严厉地问道："这星期你送给兰德尔小姐多少束花？""一束也没送，我保证。她已经订了婚，怎么样？""我很高兴，那可是你的一种愚蠢的放纵行为--送花和礼物给那些你根本不在乎的女孩们，"乔责备地接着说。
　　"可是我很在乎的女孩子们却不让我送'花和礼物'，我能怎么办呢？我的感情得有所寄托。""妈妈不允许谈情说爱，哪怕是闹着玩也不行。特迪，你太过分了。""要是我能说：'你也这样，'我愿放弃一切。可你不是这样。我只能说，假如大家都懂得那只是一种游戏，我看这种令人愉快的小节目没什么危害。""是的，看上去是令人愉快，可是这个游戏我学不会，我试过，因为大家在一起时，要是不能和别人一样，那挺让人尴尬。不过，我似乎没什么进步。"乔已忘记她指导人的角色。
　　"向艾美学着点，她在这方面颇具才能。""是的。她做得很不错，似乎从不过分。我想，对一些人来说，不用学自然就能讨人喜欢，另一些人总是不分场合说错话，办错事。""很高兴你不会调情。一个聪明的、坦率的姑娘真是让人耳聪目明。她快乐、和善却不闹笑话。乔，别对人讲，我认识的一些女孩子太疯了，我都为她们不好意思。她们肯定没有恶意，但是，如果她们知道我们男孩子背后是怎么议论她们的，我想，她们会改正的。""男孩子们一样疯。你们的舌头最刻薄，因此失败的通常是你们，而且你们和女孩子一样傻，完全一样。要是你们举止得体，女孩们也会这样，可是她们知道你们喜欢听她们的疯话，她们也就这样说。可你们反过来又责备人家。""你懂得可真不少，小姐，"劳里超然地说，"我们不喜欢嬉闹、调情，尽管我们有时表现出喜欢的样子。我们从不议论漂亮、其实的女孩子，除非男士们之间怀着尊敬谈起她们。
　　天哪，你这么天真无邪！你若是处在我的位置一个月，就会看到一些使你有点吃惊的事。我保证，我看到那种轻率的女孩，总想和我们的朋友科克·罗宾说--"滚，去你的！
　　不要脸的东西！"
　　劳里这种滑稽而又相互矛盾的态度令人忍俊不禁。一方面他骑士般地不愿说女性的坏话；另一方面他又很自然地讨厌不娴淑的愚行，在上流社会他看到了许多这样的例子。乔知道，"年轻的劳伦斯"被世俗的母亲们当作最适当的嫁女对象，他也颇得女孩子们的欢心。他还备受老少女士们的宠爱，使他成了个花花公子。所以，乔相当忌妒地注意着他，担心他被宠坏。当她发现他仍然喜欢其实的女孩子时，倒掩饰不住内心的高兴。她突然又用起了忠告的语调，放低声音说："假如你非要有个'寄托'的话，特迪，就全心全意去爱一个你确实尊重的'漂亮、其实'的女孩吧，别把时间花在那些傻姑娘们身上。""你真这么建议？"劳里看着她，脸上的表情奇怪、复杂，又是焦急又是高兴。
　　"是的，我是这么建议的。但是，你得等到大学毕业。总之，在这之前你得使自己适合那个位置。你现在还不够好，一半都不配--嗯，不管那其实的女孩是谁。"乔看上去也有点怪，因为她差点脱口说出一个名字。
　　"我是不配！"劳里承认了，他脸上谦恭的表情以前不曾有过。他垂下眼睛，心不在焉地用手指缠绕着围裙上的流苏。
　　"啊呀，我的天哪！这绝对不行！"乔想。她大声接着说："去唱歌给我听，我想听死了，特别是听你唱。""谢谢，我宁愿呆在这里。""嗯，不行，这里没地方了。去干些有用的事吧。你太大了，不能做装饰品。我想你也讨厌给系在女人的围裙带上吧？"乔还击他，引用了劳里自己说过的一些反抗的话。
　　"噢，那要看围裙由谁系着！"劳里鲁莽地用力一拉围裙。
　　"你走不走？"乔问，她伸手去拿枕头。
　　他赶紧逃跑，开始唱起"活泼的邓迪骑上马"，她便溜走了。直到年轻的先生怒气冲天地离开，她也没再露面。
　　那天夜里，乔躺着久久不能入眠，刚要睡着，就听见闷声的哭泣。她飞跑到贝思床边，急切地问道："怎么啦，亲爱的？""我还以为你睡着了呢，"贝思抽泣着说。
　　"是不是老地方疼，我的宝贝？"
　　"不是的，是新出现的，但是我能受得住，"贝思忍着泪说。
　　"跟我说说，让我来治，像我常治别的毛病那样。""你治不了，没治了。"说到这里，贝思忍不住哭出声来。
　　她搂着姐姐，绝望地大哭着，把乔给吓坏了。
　　"哪儿疼？我去叫妈妈好吗？"
　　贝思没有回答第一个问题，但是，黑暗中她一只手无意识地按住了胸口，好像就是那里疼，另一只手紧紧抱住乔。她急切地低低说道："别，别去叫她，别去叫她。我一会儿就好。
　　你在这里躺下，摸摸我'可怜'的脑袋吧。我会平静下来睡着的，我会的。"乔照着她的话做了。但是，她用手轻轻地来回抚摸着贝思滚烫的额头和潮湿的眼睑时，心中似有千言万语，极想说出来。可是，虽然乔还年轻，她已经懂得心灵和花朵一样，不能粗暴对待，得让其自然开放。所以，尽管她相信自己知道贝思新的痛苦的原因，她还是用亲切的语调说："你有烦恼，宝贝儿，是不是？""是的，乔，"沉默了好长一会儿，贝思答道。
　　"把它告诉我会让你好受些吗？"
　　"现在还不能告诉你，现在不行。"
　　 "那我就不问了。但请记住，小贝思，假如能够，妈妈和乔总会高兴地听你诉说烦恼，帮助你。""我知道，将来我会告诉你的。""现在痛苦好些了吗？""是的，好多了。乔，你真会安慰人。""睡吧，亲爱的，我和你在一起睡。"于是，她们脸贴着脸地睡着了。第二天，贝思看上去又恢复了正常。处在十八岁的年龄，头疼、心疼都持续不长，一个爱的字眼便可医治大部分的痛苦。
　　然而，乔已打定了主意，她把一个计划考虑了几天后跟妈妈谈了。
　　"前些天你问我有些什么想法，我来告诉你其中一个吧，"当她和妈妈单独在一起时，她开口说道，"今年冬天我想离家到别处换换环境。""为什么，乔？"妈妈迅速抬起眼，仿佛这句话暗示着双重含义。
　　乔眼睛不离手中的活计，认真地说："我想有点新鲜的事情，我感到烦躁不安，我要比现在多见点世面，多做点事情，多学点东西。我过多沉缅于自己的小事上了，需要活动活动。
　　今年冬天没什么事需要我，因此我想飞到不太远的地方，试试我的翅膀。""你往哪里飞呢？""往纽约飞，昨天我想到一个好主意，是这样的，你知道，柯克太太写过信给你，问有没有品行端正的年轻人愿意教她的孩子并帮着缝缝补补。要找到合适的相当不容易，但我想假如我去试试，我会适合干那工作的。""我的天哪！到那个大公寓去做仆人！"马奇太太好像很惊奇，但并非不快。
　　"那并不完全是做仆人，因为柯克太太是你的朋友--那可是天底下最和善的人啊--她会使我感到愉快的，我知道。
　　她家和外界隔开了，那里也没人认识我，就是认识，我也不在乎。这是个正正派派的工作，我不以为耻。""我也是这样看，可你的写作呢？""变换一下环境对写作更有好处。我会接受新的事物，产生新的想法。即使我在那儿呆不久；我也会带回来许许多多的材料写我那些拙劣的东西。""我毫不怀疑。这是不是你突然要走的唯一原因？""不，妈妈。""能让我知道别的原因吗？"乔朝上看看，又向下看看，脸突然红了。她慢慢地说："这么说也许是自夸，也许错了，但是--我恐怕--劳里越来越过于喜欢我了。""他开始喜欢你，这是很明显的，难道你不是同样喜欢他吗？"马奇太太神色焦急地问道。
　　"啊呀，不！我是一向喜欢那可爱的男孩，很为他自豪。
　　可是说到别的，那不可能。"
　　"那我很高兴，乔。"
　　"为什么？请告诉我。"
　　"亲爱的，因为我认为你们两个不适合。作为朋友你们能快乐地相处，你们经常发生的争执很快就烟消云散。但是我担心，要是你们终身结合在一起，两个人都会反抗。你们俩太相像了，太喜欢自由了，更不要说你们的火暴脾气和坚强的个性。这些不能使你们幸福地过活，而幸福的生活不仅需要爱，还需要巨大的容忍与克制。""虽然我表达不出来，但我就是这样想的。我很高兴你认为他只是刚开始喜欢我。要是使他不幸福，我会感到非常不安的。我不能仅仅出于感激而爱上那可爱的小伙子，是吧？""你确信他爱你？"乔的脸更红了，她脸上的表情混杂着快乐、骄傲和痛苦，年轻姑娘谈起初恋对象时都会这样。她回答说："恐怕是这样，妈妈。他什么也没说，可是表情很能说明问题。我想，我最好在事情挑明前避开。""你说得对，假如这么着有效果你就去吧。"乔舒了口气。她停了一会儿，笑着说："莫法特太太要是知道了，她会大惊小怪地说你管教子女不严，同时又为安妮仍然有希望得到劳里而欣喜不已。""哦，乔，母亲们管教子女的方式可能不同，但对子女的希望是相同的--希望看到她们的孩子幸福。梅格过得幸福，我为她的成功感到满足。你嘛，我由着你去，直到你厌倦了自由，只有到那时，你才会发现还有更美好的事情。现在，我最挂心的是艾美，但是她清醒的头脑会帮她的。至于贝思，除了希望她身体好起来，我没有别的奢望了。顺便问问，这两天她情绪似乎好点儿了，你和她谈过吗？""是的，她承认她有烦恼，答应以后告诉我。我没有再问，我想我已经知道了。"乔接着说出了她的小小经历。
　　马奇太太摇了摇头，她没把事情看得这么浪漫，她神情严肃地重复了她的看法，为了劳里，乔应该离开一阵子。
　　"计划实施之前我们什么也别对劳里说。然后，没等他回过神来悲伤，我已经走了。贝思会以为我离开是让自己高兴，事实也是这样。我不能对贝思说起劳里。但是，我走后，她能和他亲昵，安慰他，使他从这种浪漫情绪中解脱出来。劳里已经历过许多这种小考验，他已经习惯了，很快就能摆脱失恋的痛苦。"乔充满希望地说着，但是她心里仍有一种预感，担心这个"小考验"会比其他的那些更难接受，而劳里也不会像以前那样容易地摆脱"失恋"的痛苦。
　　在家庭会议上大家讨论并通过了这个计划。柯克太太很高兴地接受了乔，保证给她个愉快的家。教学工作能使她自立，她的闲暇时间可用来写作，而新景色、新交往既有益处又令人愉悦。这种前景令乔激动不已，她急切地想走。家已变得太窄了，盛不下她那种不安的个性和爱冒险的精神。一切都落实了，她战战兢兢地告诉了劳里。可使她惊奇的是，劳里平静地接受了这件事。最近他比往日严肃，但仍然很开朗。
　　大家开玩笑地说他洗心革面，翻开了新的一页。他认真地回答："确实如此，我是说要让这新的一页一直翻开着。"此刻正赶上劳里心绪不错，乔感到非常欣慰。她心情轻松地打点行装--因为贝思似乎更加愉快了--乔希望她是在为所有的人尽着力。
　　"有件事要丢给你特别照管，"出发前夜，她说。
　　"你是说你的书稿？"贝思问。
　　"不，是我的男孩。要好好地待他，行吗？""当然行。可是我代替不了你。他会痛苦地想念你。""这不会伤害他的。你得记住，我把他委托给你照管，烦他、宠他、管束他。""为了你，我会尽力而为的，"贝思答应着，不知道为什么乔那样怪怪地看着她。
　　劳里向她道别时，意味深长地低声说："这一点儿用也没有，乔。我的眼睛会一直盯着你。别胡来，不然，我就去把你接回家。"

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一二三四五六七~~~

举报只看该作者 34楼发表于: 2013-10-25 0

Chapter Thirty-three J0’S Journal

New York, November
Dear Marmee and Beth,
I'm going to write you a regular volume, for I've got heaps to tell, though I'm not a fine young lady traveling on the continent. When I lost sight of Father's dear old face, I felt a trifle blue, and might have shed a briny drop or two, if an Irish lady with four small children, all crying more or less, hadn't diverted my mind, for I amused myself by dropping gingerbread nuts over the seat every time they opened their mouths to roar.
Soon the sun came out, and taking it as a good omen, I cleared up likewise and enjoyed my journey with all my heart.
Mrs. Kirke welcomed me so kindly I felt at home at once, even in that big house full of strangers. She gave me a funny little sky parlor--all she had, but there is a stove in it, and a nice table in a sunny window, so I can sit here and write whenever I like. A fine view and a church tower opposite atone for the many stairs, and I took a fancy to my den on the spot. The nursery, where I am to teach and sew, is a pleasant room next Mrs. Kirke's private parlor, and the two little girls are pretty children, rather spoiled, I fancy, but they took to me after telling them The Seven Bad Pigs, and I've no doubt I shall make a model governess.
I am to have my meals with the children, if I prefer it to the great table, and for the present I do, for I am bashful, though no one will believe it.
"Now, my dear, make yourself at home," said Mrs. K. in her motherly way, "I'm on the drive from morning to night, as you may suppose with such a family, but a great anxiety will be off my mind if I know the children are safe with you. My rooms are always open to you, and your own shall be as comfortable as I can make it. There are some pleasant people in the house if you feel sociable, and your evenings are always free. Come to me if anything goes wrong, and be as happy as you can. There's the tea bell, I must run and change my cap." And off she bustled, leaving me to settle myself in my new nest.
As I went downstairs soon after, I saw something I liked. The flights are very long in this tall house, and as I stood waiting at the head of the third one for a little servant girl to lumber up, I saw a gentleman come along behind her, take theheavy hod of coal out of her hand, carry it all the way up, put it down at a door near by, and walk away, saying, with a kind nod and a foreign accent, "It goes better so. The little back is too young to haf such heaviness."
Wasn't it good of him? I like such things, for as Father says, trifles show character. When I mentioned it to Mrs. K., that evening, she laughed, and said, "That must have been Professor Bhaer, he's always doing things of that sort."
Mrs. K. told me he was from Berlin, very learned and good, but poor as a church mouse, and gives lessons to support himself and two little orphan nephews whom he is educating here, according to the wishes of his sister, who married an American. Not a very romantic story, but it interested me, and I was glad to hear that Mrs. K. lends him her parlor for some of his scholars. There is a glass door between it and the nursery, and I mean to peep at him, and then I'll tell you how he looks. He's almost forty, so it's no harm, Marmee.
After tea and a go-to-bed romp with the little girls, I attacked the big workbasket, and had a quiet evening chatting with my new friend. I shall keep a journal-letter, and send it once a week, so goodnight, and more tomorrow.

Tuesday Eve

Had a lively time in my seminary this morning, for the children acted like Sancho, and at one time I really thought I should shake them all round. Some good angel inspired me to try gymnastics, and I kept it up till they were glad to sit down and keep still. After luncheon, the girl took them out for a walk, and I went to my needlework like little Mabel `with a willing mind'. I was thanking my stars that I'd learned to make nice buttonholes, when the parlor door opened and shut, and someone began to hum, Kennst Du Das Land, like a big bumblebee. It was dreadfully improper, I know, but I couldn't resist the temptation, and lifting one end of the curtain before the glass door, I peeped in. Professor Bhaer was there, and while he arranged his books, I took a good look at him. A regular German--rather stout, with brown hair tumbled all over his head, a bushy beard, good nose, the kindest eyes I ever saw, and a splendid big voice that does one's ears good, after our sharp or slipshod American gabble. His clothes were rusty, his hands were large, and he hadn't a really handsome feature in his face, except his beautiful teeth, yet I liked him, for he had a fine head, his linen was very nice, and he looked like a gentleman, though two buttons were off his coat and there was a patch on one shoe. He looked sober in spite of his humming, till he went to the window to turn the hyacinth bulbs toward the sun, and stroke the cat, who received him like an old friend. Then he smiled, and when a tap came at the door, called out in a loud, brisk tone, "Herein!"
I was just going to run, when I caught sight of a morsel of a child carrying a big book, and stopped, to see what was going on.
"Me wants me Bhaer," said the mite, slamming down her book and running to meet him.
"Thou shalt haf thy Bhaer. Come, then, and take a goot hug from him, my Tina," said the Professor, catching her up with a laugh, and holding her so high over his head that she had to stoop her little face to kiss him.
"Now me mus tuddy my lessin," went on the funny little thing. So he put her up at the table, opened the great dictionary she had brought, and gave her a paper and pencil, and she scribbled away, turning a leaf now and then, and passing her little fat finger down the page, as if finding a word, so soberly that I nearly betrayed myself by a laugh, while Mr. Bhaer stood stroking her pretty hair with a fatherly look that made me think she must be his own, though she looked more French than German.
Another knock and the appearance of two young ladies sent me back to my work, and there I virtuously remained through all the noise and gabbling that went on next door. One of the girls kept laughing affectedly, and saying, "Now Professor," in a coquettish tone, and the other pronounced her German with an accent that must have made it hard for him to keep sober.
Both seemed to try his patience sorely, for more than once I heard him say emphatically, "No, no, it is not so, you haf not attend to what I say," and once there was a loud rap, as if he struck the table with his book, followed by the despairing exclamation, "Prut! It all goes bad this day."
Poor man, I pitied him, and when the girls were gone, took just one more peep to see if he survived it. He seemed to have thrown himself back in his chair, tired out, and sat there with his eyes shut till the clock struck two, when he jumped up, put his books in his pocket, as if ready for another lesson, and taking little Tina who had fallen asleep on the sofa in his arms, he carried her quietly away. I fancy he has a hard life of it. Mrs. Kirke asked me if I wouldn't go down to the five o'clock dinner, and feeling a little bit homesick, I thought I would, just to see what sort of people are under the same roof with me. So I made myself respectable and tried to slip in behind Mrs. Kirke, but as she is short and I'm tall, my efforts at concealment were rather a failure. She gave me a seat by her, and after my face cooled off, I plucked up courage and looked about me. The long table was full, and every-- one intent on getting their dinner, the gentlemen especially, who seemed to be eating on time, for they bolted in every sense of the word, vanishing as soon as they were done. There was the usual assortment of young men absorbed in themselves, young couples absorbed in each other, married ladies in their babies, and old gentlemen in politics. I don't think I shall care to have much to do with any of them, except one sweetfaced maiden lady, who looks as if she had something in her.
Cast away at the very bottom of the table was the Professor, shouting answers to the questions of a very inquisitive, deaf old gentleman on one side, and talking philosophy with a Frenchman on the other. If Amy had been here, she'd have turned her back on him forever because, sad to relate, he had a great appetite, and shoveled in his dinner in a manner which would have horrified `her ladyship'. I didn't mind, for I like `to see folks eat with a relish', as Hannah says, and the poor man must have needed a deal of food after teaching idiots all day.
As I went upstairs after dinner, two of the young men were settling their hats before the hall mirror, and I heard one say low to the other, "Who's the new party?"
"Governess, or something of that sort."
"What the deuce is she at our table for?"
"Friend of the old lady's."
"Handsome head, but no style."
"Not a bit of it. Give us a light and come on."
I felt angry at first, and then I didn't care, for a governess is as good as a clerk, and I've got sense, if I haven't style, which is more than some people have, judging from the remarks of the elegant beings who clattered away, smoking like bad chimneys. I hate ordinary people!

Thursday

Yesterday was a quiet day spent in teaching, sewing, and writing in my little room, which is very cozy, with a light and fire. I picked up a few bits of news and was introduced to the Professor. It seems that Tina is the child of the Frenchwoman who does the fine ironing in the laundry here. The little thing has lost her heart to Mr. Bhaer, and follows him about the house like a dog whenever he is at home, which delights him, as he is very fond of children, though a `bacheldore'. Kitty and Minnie Kirk likewise regard him with affection, and tell all sorts of stories about the plays he invents, the presents he brings, and the splendid tales he tells. The younger men quiz him, it seems, call him Old Fritz, Lager Beer, Ursa Major, and make all manner of jokes on his name. But he enjoys it like a boy, Mrs. Kirke says, and takes it so good-naturedly that they all like him in spite of his foreign ways.
The maiden lady is a Miss Norton, rich, cultivated, and kind. She spoke to me at dinner today (for I went to table again, it's such fun to watch people), and asked me to come and see her at her room. She has fine books and pictures, knows interesting persons, and seems friendly, so I shall make myself agreeable, for I do want to get into good society, only it isn't the same sort that Amy likes.
I was in our parlor last evening when Mr. Bhaer came in with some newspapers for Mrs. Kirke. She wasn't there, but Minnie, who is a little old woman, introduced me very prettily. "This is Mamma's friend, Miss March."
"Yes, and she's jolly and we like her lots," added Kitty, who is and `enfant terrible'.
We both bowed, and then we laughed, for the prim introduction and the blunt addition were rather a comical contrast.
"Ah, yes, I hear these naughty ones go to vex you, Mees Marsch. If so again, call at me and I come," he said, with a threatening frown that delighted the little wretches.
I promised I would, and he departed, but it seems as if I was doomed to see a good deal of him, for today as I passed his door on my way out, by accident I knocked against it with my umbrella. It flew open, and there he stood in his dressing gown, with a big blue sock on one hand and a darning needle in the other. He didn't seem at all ashamed of it, for when I explained and hurried on, he waved his hand, sock and all, saying in his loud, cheerful way...
"You haf a fine day to make your walk. Bon voyage, Mademoiselle."
I laughed all the way downstairs, but it was a little pathetic, also to think of the poor man having to mend his own clothes. The German gentlemen embroider, I know, but darning hose is another thing and not so pretty.
Nothing has happened to write about, except a call on Miss Norton, who has a room full of pretty things, and who was very charming, for she showed me all her treasures, and asked me if I would sometimes go with her to lectures and concerts, as her escort, if I enjoyed them. She put it as a favor, but I'm sure Mrs. Kirke has told her about us, and she does it out of kindness to me. I'm as proud as Lucifer, but such favors from such people don't burden me, and I accepted gratefully. When I got back to the nursery there was such an uproar in the parlor that I looked in, and there was Mr. Bhaer down on his hands and knees, with Tina on his back, Kitty leading him with a jump rope, and Minnie feeding two small boys with seedcakes, as they roared and ramped in cages built of chairs.
"We are playing nargerie," explained Kitty.
"Dis is mine effalunt!" added Tina, holding on by the Professor's hair.
"Mamma always allows us to do what we like Saturday afternoon, when Franz and Emil come, doesn't she, Mr. Bhaer?" said Minnie.
The `effalunt' sat up, looking as much in earnest as any of them, and said soberly to me, "I gif you my wort it is so, if we make too large a noise you shall say Hush! to us, and we go more softly."
I promised to do so, but left the door open and enjoyed the fun as much as they did, for a more glorious frolic I never witnessed. They played tag and soldiers, danced and sang, and when it began to grow dark they all piled onto the sofa about the Professor, while he told charming fairy stories of the storks on the chimney tops, and the little `koblods', who ride the snowflakes as they fall. I wish Americans were as simple and natural as Germans, don't you?
I'm so fond of writing, I should go spinning on forever if motives of economy didn't stop me, for though I've used thin paper and written fine, I tremble to think of the stamps this long letter will need. Pray forward Amy's as soon as you can spare them. My small news will sound very flat after her splendors, but you will like them, I know. Is Teddy studying so hard that he can't find time to write to his friends? Take good care of him for me, Beth, and tell me all about the babies, and give heaps of love to everyone. From your faithful Jo.
P.S. On reading over my letter, it strikes me as rather Bhaery, but I am always interested in odd people, and I really had nothing else to write about. Bless you!

DECEMBER

My Precious Betsey,
As this is to be a scribble-scrabble letter, I direct it to you, for it may amuse you, and give you some idea of my goings on, for though quiet, they are rather amusing, for which, oh, be joyful! After what Amy would call Herculaneum efforts, in the way of mental and moral agriculture, my young ideas begin to shoot and my little twigs to bend as I could wish. They are not so interesting tome as Tina and the boys, but I do my duty by them, and they are fond of me. Franz and Emil are jolly little lads, quite after my own heart, for the mixture of German and American spirit in the produces a constant state of effervescence. Saturday afternoons are riotous times, whether spent in the house or out, for on pleasant days they all go to walk, like a seminary, with the Professor and myself to keep order, and then such fun!
We are very good friends now, and I've begun to take lessons. I really couldn't help it, and it all came about in such a droll way that I must tell you. To begin at the beginning, Mrs. Kirke called to me one day as I passed Mr. Bhaer's room where she was rummaging.
"Did you ever see such a den, my dear? Just come and help me put these books to rights, for I've turned everything upside down, trying to discover what he has done with the six new handkerchiefs I gave him not long ago."
I went in, and while we worked I looked about me, for it was `a den' to be sure. Books and papers everywhere, a broken meerschaum, and an old flute over the mantlepiece as if done with, a ragged bird without any tail chirped on one window seat, and a box of white mice adorned the other. Half-finished boats and bits of string lay among the manuscripts. Dirty little boots stood drying before the fire, and traces of the dearly beloved boys, for whom he makes a slave of himself, were to be seen all over the room. After a grand rummage three of the missing articles were found, one over the bird cage, one covered with ink, and a third burned brown, having been used as a holder.
"Such a man!" laughed good-natured Mrs. K., as she put the relics in the rag bay. "I suppose the others are torn up to rig ships, bandage cut fingers, or make kite tails. It's dreadful, but I can't scold him. He's so absent-minded and goodnatured, he lets those boys ride over him roughshod. I agreed to do his washing and mending, but he forgets to give out his things and I forget to look them over, so he comes to a sad pass sometimes."
"Let me mend them," said I. "I don't mind it, and he needn't know. I'd like to, he's so kind to me about bringing my letters and lending books."
So I have got his things in order, and knit heels into two pairs of the socks, for they were boggled out of shape with his queer darns. Nothing was said, and I hoped he wouldn't find it out, but one day last week he caught me at it. Hearing the lessons he gives to others has interested and amused me so much that I took a fancy to lear, for Tina runs in and out, leaving the door open, and I can hear. I had been sitting near this door, finishing off the last sock, and trying to understand what he said to a new scholar, who is as stupid as I am. The girl had gone, and I thought he had also, it was so still, and I was busily gabbling over a verb, and rocking to and fro in a most absurd way, when a little crow made me look up, and there was Mr. Bhaer looking and laughing quietly, while he made signs to Tina not to betray him.
"So!" he said, as I stopped and stared like a goose, "you peep at me, I peep at you, and this is not bad, but see, I am not pleasanting when I say, haf you a wish for German?"
"Yes, but you are too busy. I am too stupid to learn," I blundered out, as red as a peony.
"Prut! We will make the time, and we fail not to find the sense. At efening I shall gif a little lesson with much gladness, for look you, Mees Marsch, I haf this debt to pay." And he pointed to my work `Yes, ' they say to one another, these so kind ladies, `he is a stupid old fellow, he will see not what we do, he will never observe that his sock heels go not in holes any more, he will think his buttons grow out new when they fall, and believe that strings make theirselves.' "Ah! But I haf an eye, and I see much. I haf a heart, and I feel thanks for this. Come, a little lesson then and now, or no more good fairy works for me and mine."
Of course I couldn't say anything after that, and as it really is a splendid opportunity, I made the bargain, and we began. I took four lessons, and then I stuck fast in a grammatical bog. The Professor was very patient with me, but it must have been torment to him, and now and then he'd look at me with such an expression of mild despair that it was a toss-up with me whether to laugh or cry. I tried both ways, and when it came to a sniff or utter mortification and woe, he just threw the grammar on to the floor and marched out of the room. I felt myself disgraced and deserted forever, but didn't blame him a particle, and was scrambling my papers together, meaning to rush upstairs and shake myself hard, when in he came, as brisk and beaming as if I'd covered myself in glory.
"Now we shall try a new way. You and I will read these pleasant little MARCHEN together, and dig no more in that dry book, that goes in the corner for making us trouble."
He spoke so kindly, and opened Hans Andersons's fairy tales so invitingly before me, that I was more ashamed than ever, and went at my lesson in a neck-or-nothing style that seemed to amuse him immensely. I forgot my bashfulness, and pegged away (no other word will express it) with all my might, tumbling over long words, pronouncing according to inspiration of the minute, and doing my very best. When I finished reading my first page, and stopped for breath, he clapped his hands and cried out in his hearty way, "Das ist gut!' Now we go well! My turn. I do him in German, gif me your ear." And away he went, rumbling out the words with his strong voice and a relish which was good to see as well as hear. Fortunately the story was the CONSTANT TIN SOLDIER, which is droll, you know, so I could laugh, and I did, though I didn't understand half he read, for I couldn't help it, he was so earnest, I so excited, and the whole thing so comical.
After that we got on better, and now I read my lessons pretty well, for this way of studying suits me, and I can see that the grammar gets tucked into the tales and poetry as one gives pills in jelly. I like it very much, and he doesn't seem tired of it yet, which is very good of him, isn't it? I mean to give him something on Christmas, for I dare not offer money. Tell me something nice, Marmee.
I'm glad Laurie seems so happy and busy, that he has given up smoking and lets his hair grow. You see Beth manages him better than I did. I'm not jealous, dear, do your best, only don't make a saint of him. I'm afraid I couldn't like him without a spice of human naughtiness. Read him bits of my letters. I haven't time to write much, and that will do just as well. Thank Heaven Beth continues so comfortable.

JANUARY

A Happy New Year to you all, my dearest family, which of course includes Mr. L. and a young man by the name of Teddy. I can't tell you how much I enjoyed your Christmas bundle, for i didn't get it till night and had given up hoping. Your letter came in the morning, but you said nothing about a parcel, meaning it for a surprise, so I was disappointed, for I'd had a `kind of feeling' that you wouldn't forget me. I felt a little low in my mind as I sat up in my room after tea, and when the big, muddy, battered-looking bundle was brought to me, I just hugged it and pranced. It was so homey and refreshing that I sat down on the floor and read and looked and ate and laughed and cried, in my usual absurd way. The things were just what I wanted, and all the better for being made instead of bought. Beth's new `ink bib' was capital, and Hannah's box of hard gingerbread will be a treasure. I'll be sure and wear the nice flannels you sent, Marmee, and read carefully the books Father has marked. Thank you all, heaps and heaps!
Speaking of books reminds me that I'm getting rich in that line, for on New Year's Day Mr. Bhaer gave me a fine Shakespeare. It is one he values much, and I've often admired it, set up in the place of honor with his German Bible, Plato, Homer, and Milton, so you may imagine how I felt when he brought it down, without its cover, and showed me my own name in it, "from my friend Friedrich Bhaer".
"You say often you wish a library. Here I gif you one, for between these lids (he meant covers) is many books in one. Read him well, and he will help you much, for the study of character in this book will help you to read it in the world and paint it with your pen."
I thanked him as well as I could, and talk now about `my library', as if I had a hundred books. I never knew how much there was in Shakespeare before, but then I never had a Bhaer to explain it to me. Now don't laugh at his horrid name. It isn't pronounced either Bear or Beer, as people will say it, but something between the two, as only Germans can give it. I'm glad you both like what I tell you about him, and hope you will know him some day. Mother would admire his warm heart, Father his wise head. I admire both, and feel rich in my new `friend Friedrich Bhaer'.
Not having much money, or knowing what he'd like, I got several little things, and put them about the room, where he would find them unexpectedly. They were useful, pretty, or funny, a new standish on his table, a little vase for his flower, he always has one, or a bit of green in a glass, to keep him fresh, he says, and a holder for his blower, so that he needn't burn up what Amy calls `mouchoirs'. I made it like those Beth invented, a big butterfly with a fat body, and black and yellow wings, worsted feelers, and bead eyes. It took his fancy immensely, and he put it on his mantlepiece as an article of virtue, so it was rather a failure after all. Poor as he is, he didn't forget a servant or a child in the house, and not a soul here, from the French laundrywoman to Miss Norton forgot him. I was so glad of that.
They got up a masquerade, and had a gay time New Year's Eve. I didn't mean to go down, having no dress. But at the last minute, Mrs. Kirke remembered some old brocades, and Miss Norton lent me lace and feathers. So I dressed up as Mrs. Malaprop, and sailed in with a mask on. No one knew me, for I disguised my voice, and no one dreamed of the silent, haughty Miss March (for they think I am very stiff and cool, most of them, and so I am to whippersnappers) could dance and dress, and burst out into a `nice derangement of epitaphs, like an allegory on the banks of the Nile'. I enjoyed it very much, and when we unmasked it was fun to see them stare at me. I heard one of the young men tell another that he knew I'd been an actress, in fact, he thought he remembered seeing me at one of the minor theaters. Meg will relish that joke. Mr. Bhaer was Nick Bottom, and Tina was Titania, a perfect little fairy in his arms. To see them dance was `quite a landscape', to use a Teddyism.
I had a very happy New Year, after all, and when I thought it over in my room, I felt as if I was getting on a little in spite of my many failures, for I'm cheerful all the time now, work with a will, and take more interest in other people than I used to, which is satisfactory. Bless you all! Ever your loving... Jo

第三十三章乔的日记

　　纽约，１１月
亲爱的妈咪和贝思：
　　我打算定期给你们写些长信，我有许多事要告诉你们，尽管我不是在欧洲旅行的年轻漂亮的小姐。那天当我看不见爸爸那张熟悉可爱的面孔时，我感到有点儿难过。要不是一位带着四个孩子的爱尔兰女士转移了我的注意力，我也可能会滴几滴泪的。那几个孩子大哭小叫，每当他们张嘴嚎哭，我便把姜饼隔座位丢给他们，以此自娱。
　　不一会儿，太阳出来了。我把这作为一个吉兆，心情同样变好了。我全身心地享受着旅途的乐趣。
　　柯克太太那么亲切地迎接我，我立刻便感到像在家里一样，虽说那个大房子里住的尽是陌生人。她让我住在一间有趣的小阁楼上--她只有这么一间了，不过里面有一个炉子，明亮的窗户边摆着一张很好的桌子，我高兴时可以坐在那里写作。在这里能看见美丽的景色和对面的教堂塔楼，弥补了要爬许多层楼梯的不足。我当时就喜欢上了我的卧室。我将在育儿室教书，做针线活，那是间令人愉快的屋子，就在柯克太太的起居室隔壁。两个小女孩很漂亮--我想，有点娇生惯养。但是，我给她们讲了"七头坏猪"的故事后，她们便喜欢上我了。我敢肯定我会成为一个模范的家庭女教师。
　　我和孩子们在一起吃饭，也就是说要是我宁愿这样而不喜欢坐在大桌旁吃饭的话。目前是这样的，因为，我确实不好意思，尽管没人相信。
　　"嗨，亲爱的，随便一点，别客气，"柯克太太慈爱地说，"你可以想象，这样一个大家要照管，我从早到晚忙个没完。
　　要是我知道孩子们安全地和你在一起，我心中的一个大包袱就卸掉了。我所有的屋子都对你敞开着，我会尽力把你的屋子弄得舒适。你要是想交朋友，这里住着些有意思的人。晚上，没有你的事。如果有什么问题就来找我。尽可能快快活活的。吃茶点的铃响了，我得去换帽子。"她匆匆地跑开了，丢下我在新屋里安顿。
　　过了一会儿我下楼时，看到了一件我喜欢的事。这座房子很高，楼梯很长，我站在第三个台阶口等候一个小女仆过去，她扛着重重的一筐煤艰难地往上爬，我看见她后面一位先生也往上走，他从她手中接过煤，一直扛到顶层，把煤放在近旁的一个小屋门口，然后和气地对小女仆点点头，带着外国腔说："这样才比较合适，小小的背经不起这样的重量。"他那样做，不错吧？我喜欢这种行为。就像爸爸说的那样，小事见气质。我向柯克太太提起了这件事，她笑着说："那肯定是巴尔教授，他总是干那种事。"柯克太太告诉我，他从柏林来，很有学问，为人很好，可是一贫如洗。他授课养活自己和他的两个孤儿侄子。他的姐姐嫁了个美国人，遵照姐姐的遗愿，他在这里教他的侄儿们。
　　这故事不太浪漫，但是我感兴趣。我听说柯克太太把她的起居室借给他用来上课我很高兴。起居室和我的育儿室中间隔着道玻璃门。我是说，可以偷看他，然后我告诉你们他的模样。妈咪，他快四十岁了，所以不会出问题的。
　　吃完茶点，和小姑娘们做了一会睡前游戏，我就拿起那个大缝纫工具筐，开始干活，一边和我的新朋友闲聊，过了个安静的夜晚。我将继续写书信体日记，一周给你们寄一次。
　　晚安，明天再谈。
　　星期二晚
　　今天早上的课上得很愉快。孩子们表现得像塞万提斯笔下的桑丘。有一会儿，我真以为我把她们吓得浑身发抖。神使鬼差地，我突然来了灵感，要教她们体育，我一直教到她们乐意坐下来并保持安静。午饭后，女仆带她们出去散步，我去做针线活，像小梅布尔那样"心甘情愿地"。我觉得很幸运，学会了锁漂亮的扣眼。正在这时，起居室的门开了，随后又关上了，有人开始哼着歌："ＫｅｎｎｓｔｄｕｄａｓＬａｎｄ，"声音像大黄蜂，我知道偷看不合适，可又抵抗不了诱惑。
　　于是我撩起对着玻璃门的窗帘，往里看去。巴尔教授在里面。
　　他在整理书本。我趁机仔细观察了他，他是一个地道的德国人--相当健壮，有着一头乱蓬蓬的棕色头发，胡须浓密，鼻子端正，目光很亲切。听惯了美国人说话时要么刺耳、要么含混的腔调，巴尔教授的声音听起来洪亮悦耳。他衣着破旧，手很大，除了漂亮的牙齿，脸上的五官真没有好看的。可是，我还是喜欢他。他头脑聪明，亚麻布衬衫很挺括。虽然他的外套掉了两个钮扣，一只鞋上有块补钉，但他看上去仍有绅士风度。他嘴里哼着调，神情却很严肃。他走向窗子，把风信子球移到向阳处，然后抚弄着小猫，小猫像对待老朋友一样任他抚摸。他笑了。他听到敲门声，迅即高声叫道："Ｈｅｒｅｉｎ！"我正要跑开，突然瞥见一个拿着一本大书的可爱的小不点，便停步看看是怎么回事。
　　"我要我的巴尔。"小东西砰地放下书，跑向他。
　　"你会得到巴尔的。来吧，让他好好抱抱你，我的蒂娜，"教授说。他笑着捉住她，将她举过头顶，不过举得太高了，她只好将小脸蛋往下伸去亲他。
　　"我现在学课课了，"那有趣的小东西接着说。于是巴尔将她放在桌边，打开了她带来的大字典，又给她一张纸和一支铅笔。小东西便乱画起来，不时翻过去一页，胖胖的小手指顺着书页往下指着，好像在找一个字。她神态那么严肃，我不由笑了起来，差点儿被发觉了。巴尔站在她身边，带着父亲般的神情抚弄着她美丽的头发。我想她肯定是他的女儿，尽管她看上去更像法国人而不像德国人。
　　又有人敲门，进来两个年轻的小姐，我便回去干我的事了。这次我很有德行地一直工作没再偷看。但隔壁的吵闹声、说话声我却能听见。其中一个女孩一直做作地笑着，还声音轻佻地说"喂，教授"。另一个的德语发音肯定使教授难以保持严肃。
　　两位小姐似乎都在严厉地考验着教授的忍耐力，因为，不止一次我听见他强调说："不，不，不是这样的，你没有听我说。"一次，又听见很响的敲击声，好像是他用书敲桌子，然后沮丧地感叹："唉！今天一切都乱了套。"可怜的人，我同情他。小姐们走后，我又偷看了一下，看他可经受得住这些。他似乎精疲力尽，靠在椅子里，闭着眼睛，直到钟敲两点，他才一跃而起，将书本放进口袋，仿佛准备再去上课。他抱起在沙发上睡着了的蒂娜，轻轻地离开了。我想他的日子过得不轻松。柯克太太问我五点钟开晚饭时愿不愿意下楼去吃。我有点儿想家，也就愿意下去吃了，我只是想看看和我住在同一屋顶下的是些什么人。于是，我故作大方，想跟在柯克太太身后溜进去。可是她个子矮，我个子高，想让她遮住我的企图失败了。她让我坐在她身旁。待到我发烧的脸冷却下来，我鼓起勇气朝四下打量，长桌子边坐满了人，每个人都在专心致志地吃饭--尤其是先生们，他们吃饭似乎是指定时间的。因为从任何一种意义上说，他们都是在狼吞虎咽，而且饭一吃完人便无影无踪了。这里有通常那种高谈阔论的年轻人，有情意绵绵的年轻夫妇，也有满脑子想着自己孩子的已婚女士，以及热衷政治的老先生们。我想，我不喜欢和他们中任何人打交道，除了那个面容姣好的未婚女士，她看上去有点头脑。
　　教授给扔在了桌子的末端，他大声回答着身边一个老先生的问题。这老先生耳朵聋，好奇心倒很强。同时，他又和另一边的一个法国人谈论着哲学。假如艾美在这里，她会永远不再理睬他了，因为，很遗憾，他的胃口板大，那风卷残云般的吃相会吓坏了"小姐"。可我不在乎，我喜欢"看人们吃得有滋有味"，像罕娜说的那样。那可怜的人一整天都教那帮傻瓜们，肯定需要吃很多食物。
　　吃完饭我上楼时，两上年轻人在大厅镜子前整理帽子。我听见一个对另一个低语："新来的那人是谁？""家庭教师，或者那一类的什么人吧。""她到底为什么和我们同桌吃饭？""她是老太太的朋友。""头脑机敏，但是没有风度。""一点也没有。借个火，我们走吧。"开始我感到气愤。后来我不在乎了。因为家庭教师事实上等于职员。根据这两个优雅人士的判断，即便是我没有风度，可我有理智，这就比一些人要强。那两个人叽叽喳喳说笑着走了，他们抽着烟像两座讨人厌的烟囱。我恨那些缺乏教养的人。
　　星期四
　　昨天过得很安静。我教书，缝纫，然后在我的小屋里写作。屋里有灯，有火，非常舒服。我听说了一些事，还被引见了教授。蒂娜好像是这里洗衣房熨衣服的法国女人的孩子。
　　小东西喜欢上了巴尔教授，只要他在家，她就像只小狗似地屋前屋后跟着他转，使巴尔很高兴。尽管他是个"单身男"，却非常喜欢孩子。基蒂和明妮同样喜欢他。她们讲述他的各种事情，他发明的游戏，他带来的礼物，他讲的美妙的故事。
　　似乎年轻人都嘲笑他，叫他老德国人、大熊座，用他的名字开各种各样的玩笑。然而，柯克太太说，他像个孩子似地欣赏这一切，从不生气。所以虽然他有外国味，大家都喜欢他。
　　那个未婚女士是一个叫诺顿的小姐--富有，有教养，和善。今天吃饭时她和我说话了（我又去大桌子吃饭了，观察人是多么有趣）。她要我到她屋子里去看她。她有很多好书、画片，她懂得哪些人是属于有趣味的，她似乎很友好。所以，我也将表现得令人满意。因为，我真的想进入上流社会，只是和艾美喜欢的那种社会不同。
　　昨天晚上，我在起居室，突然巴尔先生进来给柯克太太送报纸。她不在那里，但是，可爱的小妇人明妮得体地介绍道："这是妈妈的朋友，马奇小姐。""是的，她很有趣，我们喜欢她这样的人，"基蒂补充道。
　　她是个ｅｎeａｎｔｔｅｒｒｉｂｌｅ。
　　我们相互鞠躬，然后都笑了。那一本正经的介绍和直率的补充形成了滑稽的反差。
　　"啊，是的，我听说这些小淘气们在烦你，马奇小姐。要是她们再这样，叫我一声，我就会来了，"他说。他威胁地皱着眉，把小家伙们逗乐了。
　　我答应有事会叫他的。他离开了，但是看起来好像我注定老要见到他。今天，我出门时经过他门口，不小心雨伞碰到了他的房门，门给碰开了。他穿着晨衣，站在那里，一只手拿着一只蓝色短袜，另一只手拿着根缝衣针。他似乎一点儿也不感到难为情，因为当我向他解释后，匆匆走开时，他手持短袜与针，向我挥动着，还愉快地大声说道--"今天出门天气不错。Ｂｏｎｖｏｙａｇｅ，ｍａｄｅｍｏｉｓｅｌｌｅ。"我一路笑着下了楼，同时想到那可怜的人得自己补衣服，有点感伤。德国先生的刺绣我知道，可是缝补短袜却是另一回事了，不那么潇洒。
　　星期日
　　没什么事可写了，只是我去拜访了诺顿小姐。她的屋子里满是漂亮的东西，诺顿小姐非常可爱，她给我看了她所有的宝贝，还问我愿不愿陪伴她去听讲座，听音乐会--假如我喜欢的话。她是以一种好意提出来的，但是我确信柯克太太把我们的情况告诉了她。她出于好心才这么做的。我非常高傲，但是受这样的人提供这样的恩惠，我不感到负担，所以我感激地接受了。
　　回到有儿室，里面喧闹异常。我朝里看去，只见巴尔先生四肢着地，蒂娜骑在他背上，基蒂用一根跳绳牵着他，明妮在喂两个小男孩吃芝麻饼，他们在用椅子搭的笼子里笑着叫着，蹦着跳着。
　　"我们在扮兽兽玩，"基蒂解释道。
　　"这是我的大象，"蒂娜接口，她正拽着教授的头发。
　　"星期六下午弗朗兹和埃米尔来了，妈妈总是随我们怎么玩，是不是这样，巴尔先生？""大象"直起身来，神情和其他人一样认真，他一本正经地对我说："我向你保证是这样的。要是我们弄出的声音太大了，你就嘘一声，我们就会把声音放低点的。"我答应这样做，但是我让门开着，和他们一样享受着乐趣--因为我从来没见过比这更好玩的嬉戏了。他们捉迷藏，扮演士兵，唱歌，跳舞。天黑下来时，他们便挤到沙发上围在教授身边听他讲动人的童话故事，什么烟囱顶上的白鹤啦，什么帮做家务的小"精灵们"踏着雪降临啦，等等。我希望美国人像德国人那样纯洁自然，你们说呢？
　　我太喜欢写作了。假如不是经济的原因，我会一直这么写下去的，因为尽管我用的是薄纸，字也写得小，可一想到这封长信需要的邮票我就发抖。艾美的信你们看完后请转给我。读过艾美描述豪华生活的信，我的小小新闻很令人乏味。
　　但是，我知道，你们还是会喜欢读我的信。特迪是不是太用功了，连给他的朋友们写信的时间都没有？贝思，为我好好照顾他。把两个孩子的一切都告诉我。向大家亲切地致意。
　　你们忠实的
　　乔
　　又及：重读一遍我的信，发现写巴尔的事太多了。可我总是对古怪的人产生兴趣，而且我真的没什么别的事好写。上帝保佑你们！
　　十二月
我的宝贝贝思：
　　这封信写得乱七八糟，潦潦草草，我是写给你的，它会让你高兴，让你了解一些我在这里的情况。这里的日子虽然安静，可是很有趣，因为，哦，令人开心！经过那种艾美会叫做大力神般的巨大努力，在思想与道德的耕耘上，我的新思想在学生们身上开始发芽，我的小树枝们可以任意弯曲了。
　　我的学生们不像蒂娜和男孩子们那样有趣。可是我对他们尽了责任，他们喜欢我。弗朗兹和埃米尔是两个活泼的小伙子，相当合我意。他们身上混和着德国人和美国人的性情，所以总是处于兴奋状态。不管是在屋里还是在窗外，星期六下午总是闹嚷嚷的。天气好，他们都去散步，好像这是一个固定课程。我和教授维持秩序，多好玩！
　　现在我们是好朋友了，我开始听他的课，我真的没办法。
　　这事情来得太滑稽，我得告诉你。从头开始吧。一天，我经过巴尔先生的屋子，柯克太太叫住了我，她在里面翻找东西。
　　"亲爱的，你可见过这样的一个窝？过来帮我把这些书放放好，我把东西翻得乱七八糟了，我想看看他把我前不久给他的六条新手帕用来做什么了。"我进了屋，一边忙着一边四下打量。没错，这真是"一个窝"。到处是书籍纸张；壁炉架上放着一个坏了的海泡石烟斗和一支旧笛子，好像已经不能用了；一只没有尾巴的羽毛蓬乱的鸟在窗台上啁啾着，另一个窗口上放着一盒子白鼠；做了一半的小船、一段段绳头和手稿混放在一边；肮脏的小靴子放在火前烤着；屋子里到处可见那些可爱的男孩们的痕迹，教授为他们忙忙碌碌。一阵大搜寻，找出了失踪的三条手帕--一条在鸟笼上，一条上面全是墨水迹，一条被用作风箱的夹具给烧焦了。
　　"竟有这种人！"脾气好的柯克太太笑着把这些脏兮兮的手帕放进垃圾袋。"我猜其他几条手帕被撕开用作了船索，包扎受伤的指头，或者做风筝尾巴了。真是可怕，可我不能责骂他。他那么心不在焉，脾气温和，由着那些男孩们对他恣意妄为。我答应为他缝补浆洗，可是他记不得把东西拿出来，我又忘了查看，所以他有时弄得很狼狈。""我来为他缝补衣服，"我说，"我不在乎，他也不需要知道。我愿意--他待我这么客气，为我取信，借书给我。"于是，我把他的东西收拾整齐，为他的两双短袜织了后跟--因为他那古怪的缝法把袜子弄得不成形了。什么也没说，我希望他不会发觉这些。可是上星期的一天，我正干着给他当场捉住了。听他给别人上课，我感到非常有趣、好玩，我也想跟着学。上课时，蒂娜跑进跑出，把门开着，所以我能听见。我一直坐在靠近那扇门的地方。最后一只短袜就快完工了。我努力想听懂他为一个新生讲的课，这个学生和我一样笨。后来女学生走了，我想他也走了，屋子里那么安静。
　　我的嘴忙个不停，唠叨着一个动词，坐在椅子里极其可笑地摇来摇去。突然，一声欢叫使我抬起头来，巴尔先生正看着我，静静地笑着，一边给蒂娜打手势不要出卖他。
　　"行了！"他说。我住了嘴，像只呆鹅似地盯着他。"你偷看了我，我也偷看了你。这倒不错，你瞧，我这么说让你不愉快，你想学德语？""是的，可是你太忙了。而我太笨学不了，"我笨嘴拙舌地说，脸红得像朵玫瑰。
　　"嗯，让我们来安排时间。我们能安排妥当的。晚上我会很乐意给你上点课，因为，你瞧，马奇小姐，我得还你的债。"他指着我手里的活计。"'是的'，那些模样和善的女士们议论着，'他是个老笨蛋，我们做什么他都看不见，他根本注意不到他的袜跟不再有洞了，他以为他的纽扣掉了会重新长出来，针线自己会缝。'噢！可是，我长着眼睛，我看到了许多。
　　我长着心，对这一切我存有感激之情。好了，我会不时给你上点课，要不，就别再给我干这些童话般的事了。"当然，这一来我便无话可说了。这也确实是个非常好的机会，我和他就这样订了约，开始实行。我听了四堂课，然后就陷进了语法沼泽。教授对我非常耐心，不过，那对他肯定是一种折磨。他不时地带着一种颇为失望的表情看着我，弄得我不知该哭还是该笑。我哭过，也笑过。当情况变得糟糕透顶、令人窘迫不堪时，他就把语法书往地上一扔，脚步沉重地走出屋子。我感到耻辱，感到被永远地遗弃了。我匆匆收拾起我的纸，打算冲到楼上大哭一场，就在这时，他又进来了，欢快地微笑着，好像我的学业取得了辉煌的胜利。
　　"现在，我们来试一种新方法，我和你一起读这些有趣的小ＭｏAｒｃｈｅｎ，不再去钻那本枯燥无味的书了。那本书给我们添了麻烦，让它去角落里呆着吧。"他那样亲切地说着，在我面前打开了汉斯·安徒生引人入胜的童话，我感到更惭愧了。我拼命地学功课，这似乎使他非常高兴。我忘掉了害羞，尽全力努力（没别的字可以描述它）学着。长单词绊住了我，我凭当时的灵感发音，我尽了最大的努力。读完第一页，我停下来喘气，他拍着手，热诚地叫道："Ｄａｓｉｓｔｇｕｔ！我们学得不错。轮到我了。我用德语读，听我读。"他读开了，那大嗓门咕噜噜读出一个个单词，津津有味的神情十分滑稽，和他的声音听起来一样可笑。幸运的是，这个故事是《坚定的锡兵》，很好笑，你知道的，所以我尽可以笑--我确实笑了--虽然他读的我一半都不懂。我忍不住笑，他那样认真，我那样激动。整个事情那样可笑。
　　打那以后，我们相处得更好了。现在我的课文能读得相当不错了，因为这种学习方式适合于我。我看出语法夹进故事和诗歌里，就像把药夹进酱里一样。我非常喜欢这种学法。
　　他似乎还没有厌倦--他这样做非常好，是不是？我打算圣诞节送他点什么，因为我不敢给他钱。妈咪，告诉我，送些什么好呢？
　　很高兴劳里似乎那么幸福，那么忙碌。很高兴他戒了烟，开始蓄发。你看，贝思，你比我更能调教好他。亲爱的，我不忌妒。尽你的力吧，只是别把他变成一个圣人。若是他没有一点儿人类的顽皮淘气劲，恐怕我就不能喜欢他了。给他读一些我的信。我没有时间多写，那样也就可以了。感谢上帝，贝思能一直保持身心愉快。
　　一月
　　祝大家新年快乐，我最亲爱的家人，当然包括劳伦斯先生和那个叫特迪的年轻人。我描述不出我多么喜欢你们寄给我的圣诞包裹。那天到了晚上我已放弃希望时，才收到包裹。
　　你们的信是早上到的，可是你们没提及包裹，是打算给我一个惊喜。所以开始时我失望了。我有"一种感觉"，你们不会忘记我的，吃完下午茶后，我坐在屋里，情绪有点低落。正在这时，那个磨损了的泥色大包裹给送来了。我抱着它欢跳起来。它那么亲切，那么与众不同，我坐在地板上以我那种可笑的方式读着、看着、吃着、笑着、哭着。东西正是我想要的，是你们做的而不是买来的更好。贝思做的新"擦墨水围裙"好极了，罕娜嬷嬷做的那盒硬姜饼我会当做宝贝。妈咪，我一定会穿上你寄来的法兰绒衣服。我会仔细阅读爸爸做了记号的书。感谢大家，非常、非常感谢！
　　说到书提醒了我，告诉你们，在这方面我富起来了，因为元旦那天，巴尔先生送给我一本精致的莎士比亚。那是他非常心爱的书，和他的德语圣经、柏拉图、荷马、弥尔顿放在一起。我常为它赞叹。所以你们可以想象得出他把书拿给我时我的心情。书没有封皮，他指给我看书上写着的我的名字："我的朋友弗里德里克·巴尔赠。""你常说你想拥有藏书，我送你一本。这些盖子（他是指封皮）之间有许多本，这是其中一本。好好读书，它会给你很大的帮助。研究这书中的人物将会帮助你读懂现实生活中的人们，用你的笔描绘他们。"我万般地感谢他。现在谈起"我的藏书"，好像我已经拥有一百本书了。以前，我根本不知道莎士比亚作品里有多少内涵，那时也根本没有一个巴尔为我解释。别笑话他那可怕的名字，发音既不是贝尔（熊），也不是比尔（啤酒），人们常常那样发音。介乎两者之间，只有德国人才能发准。很高兴你们俩都喜欢听我谈论他的事。希望有一天你们能认识他。
　　妈妈会欣赏他的热心肠，爸爸会欣赏他聪明的头脑。两样我都欣赏，拥有新"朋友弗里德里克·巴尔"感到充实富有。
　　我没有多少钱，也不知道他喜欢什么。我便准备了一些小东西，放在他屋子里的四处，他会出乎意料地在那里发现它的。这些东西有用处，可爱，或者引人发笑--桌子上的新笔座，插花用的小花瓶--他总用玻璃杯插一支鲜花，要么插点绿草，他说那样使他充满活力--还有一个风箱的夹具，这样他就不必烧掉艾美称作的"ｍｏｕｃｈｏｉｒｓ"了。我把它做得像贝思创造的那些东西--一个身体肥胖的大蝴蝶，黑黄相间的翅膀，绒线的触须，玻璃球的眼睛。这非常合他的意，他把它作为一件艺术品放在壁炉架上，尽管我做得不太理想。他虽然穷，但他忘不了公寓里的每一个仆人，每一个孩子。这里所有的人，从法国洗衣妇到诺顿小姐，也都忘不了他。我对此非常高兴。
　　元旦前夕，他们举行了假面舞会，玩得很快乐。我原本不打算去的，因为我没有服装。但是在最后一刻，柯克太太记起有件旧花缎裙，诺顿小姐借给我丝带和饰羽。于是我装扮成马勒齐罗普太太，带着面具步态优美地走进舞常没有人认出我，因为我改变了说话腔调。大家做梦也没想到沉默、高傲的马奇小姐会跳舞，会打扮，会突然出现加入这个"可爱的纪念死者狂欢会，就像是尼罗河岸的一幅讽喻画"（他们中的大多数人都认为我很呆板、沉静，所以我无足轻重）。我玩得非常开心。当我们卸下面具时，看到他们盯着我看真好笑。我听见一个年轻人对另一个说，他知道我曾经当过演员，事实上，他想他记得在一个小剧院看见过我。梅格会对这个玩笑感兴趣的。巴尔先生装成尼克·包特姆，蒂娜是仙后泰坦尼娅--拥在他臂弯里的一个完美的小仙女。看他们这一对跳舞真是"权当一道风景"，用特迪的话说。
　　毕竟，我的新年过得非常愉快，回到屋里想想，我感到尽管我有过一些失败，还是有些进步的。现在我始终很快乐，工作热心，对别人比以前更关切，这一切都令人满意。上帝保佑你们大家！永远爱你们的乔

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一二三四五六七~~~

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Chapter Thirty-four A Friend

Though very happy in the social atmosphere about her, and very busy with the daily work that earned her bread and made it sweeter for the effort, Jo still found time for literary labors. The purpose which now took possession of her was a natural one to a poor and ambitious girl, but the means she took to gain her end were not the best. She saw that money conferred power, therefore, she resolved to have, not to be used for herself alone, but for those whom she loved more than life.
The dream of filling home with comforts, giving Beth everything she wanted, from strawberries in winter to an organ in her bedroom, going abroad herself, and always having more than enough, so that she might indulge in the luxury of charity, had been for years Jo's most cherished castle in the air.
The prize-story experience had seemed to open a way which might, after long traveling and much uphill work, lead to this delightful chateau en Espagne. But the novel disaster quenched her courage for a time, for public opinion is a giant which has frightened stouter-hearted Jacks on bigger beanstalks than hers. Like that immortal hero, she reposed awhile after the first attempt, which resulted in a tumble and the least lovely of the giant's treasures, if I remember rightly. But the `up again and take another' spirit was as strong in Jo as in Jack, so she scrambled up on the shady side this time and got more booty, but nearly left behind her what was far more precious than the moneybags.
She took to writing sensation stories, for in those dark ages, even all-perfect America read rubbish. She told no one, but concocted a `thrilling tale', and boldly carried it herself to Mr. Dashwood, editor of the Weekly Volcano. She had never read Sartor Resartus, but she had a womanly instinct that clothes possess an influence more powerful over many than the worth of character or the magic of manners. So she dressed herself in her best, and trying to persuade herself that she was neither excited nor nervous, bravely climbed two pairs of dark and dirty stairs to find herself in a disorderly room, a cloud of cigar smoke, and the presence of three gentlemen, sitting with their heels rather higher than their hats, which articles of dress none of them took the trouble to remove on her appearance. somewhat daunted by this reception, Jo hesitated on the threshold, murmuring in much embarrassment...
"Excuse me, I was looking for the Weekly Volcano office. I wished to see Mr. Dashwood."
Down went the highest pair of heels, up rose the smokiest gentleman, and carefully cherishing his cigar between his fingers, he advanced with a nod and a countenance expressive of nothing but sleep. Feeling that she must get through the matter somehow, Jo produced her manuscript and, blushing redder and redder with each sentence, blundered out fragments of the little speech carefully prepared for the occasion.
"A friend of mine desired me to offer--a story--just as an experiment--would like your opinion--be glad to write more if this suits."
While she blushed and blundered, Mr. Dashwood had taken the manuscript, and was turning over the leaves with a pair of rather dirty fingers, and casting critical glances up and down the neat pages.
"Not a first attempt, I take it?" observing that the pages were numbered, covered only on one side, and not tied up with a ribbon--sure sign of a novice.
"No, sir. She has had some experience, and got a prize for a tale in the BLARNEYSTONE BANNER."
"Oh, did she?" And Mr. Dashwood gave JO a quick look, which seemed to take note of everything she had on, from the bow in her bonnet to the buttons on her boots. "Well, you can leave it, if you like. We've more of this sort of thing on hand than we know what to do with at present, but I'll run my eye over it, and give you an answer next week."
Now, Jo did not like to leave it, for Mr. Dashwood didn't suit her at all, but, under the circumstances, there was nothing for her to do but bow and walk away, looking particularly tall and dignified, as she was apt to do when nettled or abashed. Just then she was both, for it was perfectly evident from the knowing glances exchanged among the gentlemen that her little fiction of `my friend' was considered a good joke, and a laugh, produced by some inaudible remark of the editor, as he closed the door, completed her discomfiture. Half resolving never to return, she went home, and worked off her irritation by stitching pinafores vigorously, and in an hour or two was cool enough to laugh over the scene and long for next week.
When she went again, Mr. Dashwood was alone, whereat she rejoiced. Mr. Dashwood was much wider awake than before, which was agreeable and Mr. Dashwood was not too deeply absorbed in a cigar to remember his manners, so the second interview was much more comfortable than the first.
"We'll take this (editors never say I), if you don't object to a few alterations. It's too long, but omitting the passages I've marked will make it just the right length,"he said, in a businesslike tone.
Jo hardly knew her own MS again, so crumpled and underscored were its pages and paragraphs, but feeling as a tender patent might on being asked to cut off her baby's legs in order that it might fit into a new cradle, she looked at the marked passages and was surprised to find that all the moral reflections--which she had carefully put in as ballast for much romance--had been stricken out.
But, Sir, I thought every story should have some sort of a moral, so I took care to have a few of my sinners repent."
Mr. Dashwoods's editorial gravity relaxed into a smile, for Jo had forgotten her `friend', and spoken as only an author could.
"People want to be amused, not preached at, you know. Morals don't sell nowadays." Which was not quite a correct statement, by the way.
"You think it would do with these alterations, then?"
"Yes, it's a new plot, and pretty well worked up--language good, and so on," was Mr. Dashwood's affable reply.
"What do you--that is, what compensation--" began Jo, not exactly knowing how to express herself.
"Oh, yes, well, we give from twenty-five to thirty for things of this sort. Pay when it comes out," returned Mr. Dashwood, as if that point had escaped him. Such trifles do escape the editorial mind, it is said.
"Very well, you can have it," said Jo, handing back the story with a satisfied air, for after the dollar-a-column work, even twenty-five seemed good pay.
"Shall I tell my friend you will take another if she has one better than this?" asked Jo, unconscious of her little slip of the tongue, and emboldened by her success.
"Well, we'll look at it. Can't promise to take it. Tell her to make it short and spicy, and never mind the moral. What name would your friend like to put on it?" in a careless tone.
"None at all, if you please, she doesn't wish her name to appear and has no nom de plume," said Jo, blushing in spite of herself.

"Just as she likes, of course. The tale will be out next week. Will you call for the money, or shall I send it?" asked Mr. Dashwood, who felt a natural desire to know who his new contributor might be.
"I'll call. Good morning, Sir."
As she departed, Mr. Dashwood put up his feet, with the graceful remark, "Poor and proud, as usual, but she'll do."
Following Mr. Dashwood's directions, and making Mrs. Northbury her model, Jo rashly took a plunge into the frothy sea of sensational literature, but thanks to the life preserver thrown her by a friend, she came up again not much the worse for her ducking.
Like most young scribblers, she went abroad for her characters and scenery, and banditti, counts, gypsies, nuns, and duchesses appeared upon her stage, and played their parts with as much accuracy and spirit as could be expected. Her readers were not particular about such trifles as grammar, punctuation, and probability, and Mr. Dashwood graciously permitted her to fill his columns at the lowest prices, not thinking it necessary to tell her that the real cause of his hospitality was the fact that one of his hacks, on being offered higher wages, had basely left him in the lurch.
She soon became interested in her work, for her emaciated purse grew stout, and the little hoard she was making to take Beth to the mountains next summer grew slowly but surely as the weeks passed. One thing disturbed her satisfaction, and that was that she did not tell them at home. She had a feeling that Father and Mother would not approve, and preferred to have her own way first, and beg pardon afterward. It was easy to keep her secret, for no name appeared with her stories. Mr. Dashwood had of course found it out very soon, but promised to be dumb, and for a wonder kept his word.
She thought it would do her no harm, for she sincerely meant to write nothing of which she would be ashamed, and quieted all pricks of conscience by anticipations of the happy minute when she should show her earnings and laugh over her well-kept secret.
But Mr. Dashwood rejected any but thrilling tales, and as thrills could not be produced except by harrowing up the souls of the readers, history and romance, land and sea, science and art, police records and lunatic asylums, had to be ransacked for the purpose. Jo soon found that her innocent experience had given her but few glimpses of the tragic world which underlies society, so regarding it in a business light, she set about supplying her deficiencies with characteristic energy. Eager to find material for stories, and bent on making them original in plot, if not masterly in execution, she searched newspapers for accidents, incidents, and crimes. She excited the suspicions of public librarians by asking for works on poisons. She studied faces in the street, and characters, good, bad, and indifferent, all about her. She delved in the dust of ancient times for facts or fictions so old that they were as good as new, and introduced herself to folly, sin, and misery, as well as her limited opportunities allowed. She thought she was prospering finely, but unconsciously she was beginning to desecrate some of the womanliest attributes of a woman's character. She was living in bad society, and imaginary though it was, its influence affected her, for she was feeding heart and fancy on dangerous and unsubstantial food, and was fast brushing the innocent bloom from her nature by a premature acquaintance with the darker side of life, which comes soon enough to all of us.
She was beginning to feel rather than see this, for much describing of other people's passions and feelings set her to studying and speculating about her own. a morbid amusement in which healthy young minds do not voluntarily indulge. Wrongdoing always brings its own punishment, and when Jo most needed hers, she got it.
I don't know whether the study of Shakespeare helped her to read character, or the natural instinct of a woman for what was honest, brave, and strong, but while endowing her imaginary heroes with every perfection under the sun, Jo was discovering a live hero, who interested her in spite of many human imperfections.
Mr. Bhaer, in one of their conversations, had advised her to study simple, true, and lovely characters, wherever she found them, as good training for a writer. Jo took him at his word, for she coolly turned round and studied him--a proceeding which would have much surprised him, had he know it, for the worthy Professor was very humble in his own conceit.
Why everybody liked him was what puzzled Jo, at first. He was neither rich nor great, young nor handsome, in no respect what is called fascinating, imposing, or brilliant, and yet he was as attractive as a genial fire, and people seemed to gather about him as naturally as about a warm hearth. He was poor, yet always appeared to be giving something away; a stranger, yet everyone was his friend; no longer young, but as happy-hearted as a boy; plain and peculiar, yet his face looked beautiful to many, and his oddities were freely forgiven for his sake. Jo often watched him, trying to discover the charm, and at last decided that it was benevolence which worked the miracle. If he had any sorrow, `it sat with its head under its wing', and he turned only his sunny side to the world. There were lines upon his forehead, but Time seemed to have touched him gently, remembering how kind he was to others. The pleasant curves about his mouth were the memorials of many friendly words and cheery laughs, his eyes were never cold or hard, and his big hand had a warm, strong grasp that was more expressive than words.
His very clothes seemed to partake of the hospitable nature of the wearer. They looked as if they were at ease, and liked to make him comfortable. His apacious waistcoat was suggestive of a large heart underneath. His rusty coat had a social air, and the baggy pockets plainly proved that little hands often went in empty and came out full. His very boots were benevolent, and his collars never stiff and raspy like other people's.
"That's it!" said Jo to herself, when she at length discovered that genuine good will toward one's fellow men could beautify and dignify even a stout German teacher, who shoveled in his dinner, darned his own socks, and was burdened with the name of Bhaer.
Jo valued goodness highly, but she also possessed a most feminine respect for intellect, and a little discovery which she made about the Professor added much to her regard for him. He never spoke of himself, and no one ever knew that in his native city he had been a man much honored and esteemed for learning and integrity, till a countryman came to see him. He never spoke of himself, and in a conversation with Miss Norton divulged the pleasing fact. From her Jo learned it, and liked it all the better because Mr. Bhaer had never told it. She felt proud to know that he was an honored Professor in Berlin, though only a poor language-master in America, and his homely, hard-working life was much beautified by the spice of romance which this discovery gave it. Another and a better gift than intellect was shown her in a most unexpected manner. Miss Norton had the entree into most society, which Jo would have had no chance of seeing but for her. The solitary woman felt an interest in the ambitious girl, and kindly conferred many favors of this sort both on Jo and the Professor. She took them with her one night to a select symposium, held in honor of several celebrities.
Jo went prepared to bow down and adore the mighty ones whom she had worshiped with youthful enthusiasm afar off. But her reverence for genius received a severe shock that night, and it took her some time to recover from the discovery that the great creatures were only men and women after all. Imagine her dismay, on stealing a glance of timid admiration at the poet whose lines suggested an ethereal being fed on `spirit, fire, and dew', to behold him devouring his supper with an ardor which flushed his intellectual countenance. Turning as from a fallen idol, she made other discoveries which rapidly dispelled her romantic illusions. The great novelist vibrated between two decanters with the regularity of a pendulum; the famous divine flirted openly with one of the Madame de Staels of the age, who looked daggers at another Corinne, who was amiably satirizing her, after outmaneuvering her in efforts to absorb the profound philosopher, who imbibed tea Johnsonianly and appeared to slumber, the loquacity of the lady rendering speech impossible. The scientific celebrities, forgetting their mollusks and glacial periods, gossiped about art, while devoting themselves to oysters and ices with characteristic energy; the young musician, who was charming the city like a second Orpheus, talked horses; and the specimen of the British nobility present happened to be the most ordinary man of the party.
Before the evening was half over, Jo felt so completely disillusioned, that she sat down in a corner to recover herself. Mr. Bhaer soon joined her, looking rather out of his element, and presently several of the philosophers, each mounted on his hobby, came ambling up to hold an intellectual tournament in the recess. The conversations were miles beyond Jo's comprehension, but she enjoyed it, though Kant and Hegel were unknown gods, the Subjective and Objective unintelligible terms, and the only thing `evolved from her inner consciousness' was a bad headache after it was all over. It dawned upon her gradually that the world was being picked to pieces, and put together on new and, according to the talkers, on infinitely better principles than before, that religion was in a fair way to be reasoned into nothingness, and intellect was to be the only God. Jo knew nothing about philosophy or metaphysics of any sort, but a curious excitement, half pleasurable, half painful, came over her as she listened with a sense of being turned adrift into time and space, like a young balloon out on a holiday.
She looked round to see how the Professor liked it, and found him looking at her with the grimest expression she had ever seen him wear. He shook his head and beckoned her to come away, but she was fascinated just then by the freedom of Speculative Philosophy, and kept her seat, trying to find out what the wise gentlemen intended to rely upon after they had annihilated all the old beliefs.
Now, Mr. Bhaer was a diffident man and slow to offer his own opinions, not because they were unsettled, but too sincere and earnest to be lightly spoken. As he glanced from Jo to several other young people, attracted by the brilliancy of the philosophic pyrotechnics, he knit his brows and longed to speak, fearing that some inflammable young soul would be led astray by the rockets, to find when the display was over that they had only an empty stick or a scorched hand.
He bore it as long as he could, but when he was appealed to for an opinion, he blazed up with honest indignation and defended religion with all the eloquence of truth--an eloquence which made his broken English musical and his plain face beautiful. He had a hard fight, for the wise men argued well, but he didn't know when he was beaten and stood to his colors like a man. Somehow, as he talked, the world got right again to Jo. The old beliefs, that had lasted so long, seemed better than the new. God was not a blind force, and immortality was not a pretty fable, but a blessed fact. She felt as if she had solid ground under her feet again, and when Mr. Bhaer paused, outtalked but not one whit convinced, Jo wanted to clap her hands and thank him.
She did neither, but she remembered the scene, and gave the Professor her heartiest respect, for she knew it cost him an effort to speak out then and there, because his conscience would not let him be silent. She began to see that character is a better possession than money, rank, intellect, or beauty, and to feel that if greatness is what a wise man has defined it to be, `truth, reverence, and good will', then her friend friedrich Bhaer was not only good, but great.
This belief strengthened daily. She valued his esteem, she coveted his respect, she wanted to be worthy of his friendship, and just when the wish was sincerest, she came near to losing everything. It all grew out of a cocked hat, for one evening the Professor came in to give Jo her lesson with a paper soldier cap on his head, which Tina had put there and he had forgotten to take off.
"It's evident he doesn't look in his glass before coming down," thought Jo, with a smile, as he said "Goot efening," and sat soberly down, quite unconscious of the ludicrous contrast between his subject and his headgear, for he was going to read her the Death of Wallenstein.
She said nothing at first, for she liked to hear him laugh out his big, hearty laugh when anything funny happened, so she left him to discover it for himself, and presently forgot all about it, for to hear a German read Schiller is rather an absorbing occupation. After the reading came the lesson, which was a lively one, for Jo was in a gay mood that night, and the cocked hat kept her eyes dancing with merriment. The Professor didn't know what to make of her, and stopped at last to ask with an air of mild surprise that was irresistible ...
"Mees Marsch, for what do you laugh in your master's face? Haf you no respect for me, that you go on so bad?"
"How can I be respectful, Sir, when you forget to take your hat off?" said Jo.
Lifting his hand to his head, the absent-minded Professor gravely felt and removed the little cocked hat, looked at it a minute, and then threw back his head and laughed like a merry bass viol.
"Ah! I see him now, it is that imp Tina who makes me a fool with my cap. Well, it is nothing, but see you, if this lesson goes not well, you too shall wear him."
But the lesson did not go at all for a few minutes because Mr. Bhaer caught sight of a picture on the hat, and unfolding it, said with great disgust, "I wish these papers did not come in the house. They are not for children to see, nor young people to read. It is not well, and I haf no patience with those who make this harm."
Jo glanced at the sheet and saw a pleasing illustration composed of a lunatic, a corpse, a villian, and a viper. She did not like it, but the impulse that made her turn it over was not one of displeasure but fear, because for a minute she fancied the paper was the Volcano. It was not, however, and her panic subsided as she remembered that even if it had been and one of her own tales in it, there would have been no name to betray her. She had betrayed herself, however, by a look and a blush, for though an absent man, the Professor saw a good deal more than people fancied. He knew that Jo wrote, and had met her down among the newspaper offices more than once, but as she never spoke of it, he asked no questions in spite of a strong desire to see her work. Now it occurred to him that she was doing what she was ashamed to own, and it troubled him. He did not say to himself, "It is none of my business. I've no right to say anything," as many people would have done. He only remembered that she was young and poor, a girl far away from mother's love and father's care, and he was moved to help her with an impulse as quick and natural as that which would prompt him to put out his hand to save a baby from a puddle. All this flashed through his mind in a minute, but not a trace of it appeared in his face, and by the time the paper was turned, and Jo's needle threaded, he was ready to say quite naturally, but very gravely...
"Yes, you are right to put it from you. I do not think that good young girls should see such things. They are made pleasant to some, but I would more rather give my boys gunpowder to play with than this bad trash."
"All may not be bad, only silly, you know, and if there is a demand for it, I don't see any harm in supplying it. Many very respectable people make an honest living out of what are called sensation stories," said Jo, scratching gathers so energetically that a row of little slits followed her pin.
"There is a demand for whisky, but I think you and I do not care to sell it. If the respectable people knew what harm they did, they would not feel that the living was honest. They haf no right to put poison in the sugarplum, and let the small ones eat it. No, they should think a little, and sweep mud in the street before they do this thing."
Mr. Bhaer spoke warmly, and walked to the fire, crumpling the paper in his hands. Jo sat still, looking as if the fire had come to her, for her cheeks burned long after the cocked hat had turned to smoke and gone harmlessly up the chimney.
"I should like much to send all the rest after him," muttered the Professor, coming back with a relieved air.
Jo thought what a blaze her pile of papers upstairs would make, and her hard-earned money lay rather heavily on her conscience at that minute. Then she thought consolingly to herself, "Mine are not like that, they are only silly, never bad, so I won't be worried," and taking up her book, she said, with a studious face, "Shall we go on, Sir? I'll be very good and proper now."
"I shall hope so," was all he said, but he meant more than she imagined, and the grave, kind look he gave her made her feel as if the words Weekly Volcano were printed in large type on her forehead.
As soon as she went to her room, she got out her papers, and carefully reread every one of her stories. Being a little shortsighted, Mr. Bhaer sometimes used eye glasses, and Jo had tried them once, smiling to see how they magnified the fine print of her book. Now she seemed to have on the Professor's mental or moral spectacles also, for the faults of these poor stories glared at her dreadfully and filled her with dismay.
"They are trash, and will soon be worse trash if I go on, for each is more sensational than the last. I've gone blindly on, hurting myself and other people, for the sake of money. I know it's so, for I can't read this stuff in sober earnest without being horribly ashamed of it, and what should I do if they were seen at home or Mr. Bhaer got hold of them?"
Jo turned hot at the bare idea, and stuffed the whole bundle into her stove, nearly setting the chimney afire with the blaze.
"Yes, that's the best place for such inflammable nonsense. I'd better burn the house down, I suppose, than let other people blow themselves up with my gunpowder," she thought as she watched the Demon of the Jura whisk away, a little black cinder with fiery eyes.
But when nothing remained of all her three month's work except a heap of ashes and the money in her lap, Jo looked sober, as she sat on the floor, wondering what she ought to do about her wages.
"I think I haven't done much harm yet, and may keep this to pay for my time," she said, after a long meditation, adding impatiently, "I almost wish I hadn't any conscience, it's so inconvenient. If I didn't care about doing right, and didn't feel uncomfortable when doing wrong, I should get on capitally. I can't help wishing sometimes, that Mother and Father hadn't been so particular about such things."
Ah, Jo, instead of wishing that, thank God that `Father and Mother were particular'. and pity from your heart those who have no such guardians to hedge them round with principles which may seem like prison walls to impatient youth, but which will prove sure foundations to build character upon in womanhood.
Jo wrote no more sensational stories, deciding that the money did not pay for her share of the sensation, but going to the other extreme, as is the way with people of her stamp, she took a course of Mrs. Sherwood, Miss Edgeworth, and Hannah More, and then produced a tale which might have been more properly called an essay or a sermon, so intensely moral was it. She had her doubts about it from the beginning, for her lively fancy and girlish romance felt as ill at ease in the new style as she would have done masquerading in the stiff and cumbrous costume of the last century. She sent this didactic gem to several markets, but it found no purchaser, and she was inclined to agree with Mr. Dashwood that morals didn't sell.
Then she tried a child's story, which she could easily have disposed of if she had not been mercenary enough to demand filthy lucre for it. The only person who offered enough to make it worth her while to try juvenile literature was a worthy gentleman who felt it his mission to convert all the world to his particular belief. But much as she liked to write for children, Jo could not consent to depict all her naughty boys as being eaten by bears or tossed by mad bulls because they did not go to a particular Sabbath school, nor all the good infants who did go as rewarded by every kind of bliss, from gilded gingerbread to escorts of angels when they departed this life with psalms or sermons on their lisping tongues. So nothing came of these trials, land Jo corked up her inkstand, and said in a fit of very wholesome humility...
"I don't know anything. I'll wait until I do before I try again, and meantime, `sweep mud in the street' if I can't do better, that's honest, at least." Which decision proved that her second tumble down the beanstalk had done her some good.
While these internal revolutions were going on, her external life had been as busy and uneventful as usual, and if she sometimes looked serious or a little sad no one observed it but Professor Bhaer. He did it so quietly that Jo never knew he was watching to see if she would accept and profit by his reproof, but she stood the test, and he was satisfied, for though no words passed between them, he knew that she had given up writing. Not only did he guess it by the fact that the second finger of her right hand was no longer inky, but she spent her evenings downstairs now, was met no more among newspaper offices, and studied with a dogged patience, which assured him that she was bent on occupying her mind with something useful, if not pleasant.
He helped her in many ways, proving himself a true friend, and Jo was happy, for while her pen lay idle, she was learning other lessons besides German, and laying a foundation for the sensation story of her own life.
It was a pleasant winter and a long one, for she did not leave Mrs. Kirke till June. Everyone seemed sorry when the time came. The children were inconsolable, and Mr. Bhaer's hair stuck straight up all over his head, for he always rumpled it wildly when disturbed in mind.
"Going home? Ah, you are happy that you haf a home to go in," he said, when she told him, and sat silently pulling his beard in the corner, while she held a little levee on that last evening.
She was going early, so she bade them all goodbye overnight, and when his turn came, she said warmly, "Now, Sir, you won't forget to come and see us, if you ever travel our way, will you? I'll never forgive you if you do, for I want them all to know my friend."
"Do you? Shall I come?" he asked, looking down at her with an eager expression which she did not see.
"Yes, come next month. Laurie graduates then, and you'd enjoy commencement as something new."
"That is your best friend, of whom you speak?" he said in an altered tone.
"Yes, my boy Teddy. I'm very proud of him and should like you to see him."
Jo looked up then, quite unconscious of anything but her own pleasure in the prospect of showing them to one another. Something in Mr. Bhaer's face suddenly recalled the fact that she might find Laurie more than a `best friend', and simply because she particularly wished not to look as if anything was the matter, she involuntarily began to blush, and the more she tried not to, the redder she grew. If it had not been for Tina on her knee. She didn't know what would have become of her. Fortunately the child was moved to hug her, so she managed to hide her face an instant, hoping the Professor did not see it. But he did, and his own changed again from that momentary anxiety to its usual expression, as he said cordially...
"I fear I shall not make the time for that, but I wish the friend much success, and you all happiness. Gott bless you!" And with that, he shook hands warmly, shouldered Tina, and went away.
But after the boys were abed, he sat long before his fire with the tired look on his face and the `heimweh', or homesickness, lying heavy at his heart. Once, when he remembered Jo as she sat with the little child in her lap and that new softness in her face, he leaned his head on his hands a minute, and then roamed about the room, as if in search of something that he could not find.
"It is not for me, I must not hope it now," he said to himself, with a sigh that was almost a groan. Then, as if reproach- ing himself for the longing that he could not repress, he went and kissed the two tousled heads upon the pillow, took down his seldom-used meerschaum, and opened his Plato.
He did his best and did it manfully, but I don't think he found that a pair of rampant boys, a pipe, or even the divine Plato, were very satisfactory substitutes for wife and child at home.
Early as it was, he was at the station next morning to see Jo off, and thanks to him, she began her solitary journey with the pleasant memory of a familiar face smiling its farewell, a bunch of violets to keep her company, and best of all, the happy thought, "Well, the winter's gone, and I've written no books, earned no fortune, but I've made a friend worth having and I'll try to keep him all my life."

第三十四章朋友

　　乔的社交圈令她十分快乐，每日忙于工作为她挣得了面包，使她的努力成果更显甜美。虽然如此，她还是找时间从事文学创作。对一个有抱负的穷姑娘来说，现在支配她写作的目的是自然的，可是她实现目的的方法不是最好的。她明白金钱能带来权力，因此，她决心拥有金钱和权力这两种东西。不只是用于她自己，而是用于她爱的人们，她爱他们胜于爱自己。
　　乔梦想为家里添置许多使生活舒适的用品。贝思想要什么就给她什么，从冬天吃的草莓到卧室里的风琴。自己出国，钱总是绰绰有余，便能够享受大做善事的乐趣。这些是乔多年来最珍视的空中楼阁。
　　经过长期游历和努力的工作以后，乔的那篇得奖小说似乎为她开辟了道路，她又写出了让人开怀的《空中楼阁》。然而，这场小说灾难使她一度丧失了勇气，因为公共舆论是一个巨人，比她更勇敢的杰克们也被吓倒了，而杰克们向上爬的豆茎比她的更大。她像那个不朽的英雄一样，第一次尝试后休息了一会儿。假如我记得不错的话，第一次尝试她跌了下来，一点没得到巨人可爱的财宝。但是乔身上"爬起来再试"的精神和杰克一样强，所以，这一次她从背阴的一面爬了上去，得到了更多的战利品。但是丢掉的东西比钱袋要宝贵得多。
　　乔开始写轰动小说，在那些黑暗的日子里，既使是十全十美的美国人也读庸俗作品。她虚构了一个"动人的故事"，大胆地亲自将它送给了《火山周报》的编辑达什伍德先生，这件事她谁也没告诉。她从未读过《瑞沙托斯裁缝》，但是，女人的直觉告诉她，对许多人来说，较之个性的价值或风度的魔力，服装的影响力更加强大。所以，她穿上了她最好的衣服，说服自己既不激动也不紧张，勇敢地爬上了两段又暗又脏的楼梯，走进一间乱七八糟的屋子。屋子里烟雾缭绕，三个先生坐在那里脚跷得比帽子还高。乔的出现并没有让他们劳神脱一下帽子。这种接待有点吓住了乔。她在门口犹豫了，非常尴尬地咕哝着--"对不起，我在找《火山周报》的办公室，我想见达什伍德先生。"跷得最高的一双脚落了下来，站起一位烟冒得最凶的先生。他仔细地用手指夹住香烟，往前跨了一步，点了点头。他脸上除了困意没别的表情。乔感到不管怎样得结束这件事，于是她拿出手稿，笨口拙舌、断断续续地说出了为这个场合仔细准备的话，越说脸越红。
　　"我的一个朋友要我来交--一个故事--只是作为一个试验--希望听听您的意见--如果这个合适，乐意多写一些。"乔红着脸笨拙地说着，达什伍德先生接过手稿，用两个相当脏的手指翻着纸页，目光挑剔地上下扫视着干净的手稿。
　　"我看，是第一次？"他注意到页数用号码标了，只写了一面，没有丝带扎起来--确实是新手的迹象。
　　"不，先生，她有些经验。她的一个故事登在《巧言石旗帜报》上，还得了奖。""哦，是吗？"达什伍德先生迅速看了她一眼。这一眼似乎注意到了她所有的穿着打扮，从帽子上的蝴蝶结到靴子上的钮扣。"好吧，你愿意就把手稿丢下来吧。眼下，我们手边这种东西多得不知道该怎么处理，不过，我会看它一眼的，下星期给你答复。"现在，乔倒不愿意丢下手稿了，因为达什伍德先生一点也不适合她，可是，在那种情况下，她没有别的办法，只能鞠躬，然后走开。此时她显得格外孤傲，每当她被惹恼了或感到窘迫时，总会这样。当时她又恼又窘，因为从先生们交换的会意的眼神看，十分明显她的小小虚构"我的朋友"被当成了个好笑话。编辑关门时说了什么她没听清，但是引起一阵笑声，这些使她十分狼狈。她回了家，几乎决定不再去那儿了。她使劲地缝着围裙发泄着怨气。一两个小时以后便平静下来能够笑对那个场面了。她盼望着下星期。
　　她再一次去那里的时候，只有达什伍德先生一人在，这使她高兴。达什伍德先生比上一次清醒多了，也给人愉悦之感。回忆其他上次的行为举止，这次他不再没命地抽烟了。所以第二次会见要比第一次让人舒服得多。
　　"要是你不反对把你的手稿作些改动，我们就采用了（编辑们从来不说我字）。这个太长了，去掉我做了记号的那些段落，长度就正合适，"他以事务性的语调说。
　　乔几乎认不出她的手稿了，稿纸被揉得皱巴巴，许多段落都给划上了线。她感觉如同一个慈善的母亲被人要求砍断她孩子的双脚以便能放进新摇篮。她看着做了记号的段落，吃惊地发现所有反映道德的部分--她挖空心思加进这些让它们在许多浪漫事件中起支撑作用--都被划掉了。
　　"可是，先生，我认为每一个故事里都应该有某种道德成份，所以我设法让我故事里一些有罪的人悔过。"达什伍德先生编辑式的严肃神情放松了，他笑了起来，因为乔忘记了她的"朋友"，俨然以作者的口气在说话。
　　"人们想得到乐趣，不想听说教，你知道，现在道德没销路。"顺便说一句，这话不太正确。
　　"那你认为这样变动后就能用了？"
　　"是的，情节有新意，故事展开得也很好--语言不错，还有其他的，"达什伍德先生和蔼地回答。
　　"你们怎样--我是说，怎样的报酬--"乔开口说，她不知道怎样准确表达自己的意思。"噢，是的，这样，这种东西我们付二十五至三十美元，一经刊登，即付稿酬，"达什伍德先生回答，仿佛他已忘记了这一点。据说这类小事编辑们常常会忘记的。
　　"很好，就给你们用。"乔神情满意地把故事交还给了他。
　　以前登一栏故事才一美元，这二十五美元的报酬似乎不错。
　　"我能不能告诉我的朋友，假如她有更好的故事，你们愿意接受？"她问道。成功使乔的胆子大了起来，她没有意识到前面她说漏了嘴。
　　"唔，我们会考虑的，但是不能保证接受。告诉你的朋友，故事要写得有趣味，别去管那道德。你的朋友想在这一起署什么名字？"他的语调漫不经心。
　　"请你什么名字也不署，她不愿她的名字出现，她也没有笔名，"乔说，她情不自禁地脸红了。
　　"当然随她的便。故事下个星期就登出来。你是自己来拿钱，还是我来寄给你？"达什伍德先生问，他自然想知道他的新供稿人是谁。
　　"我来拿，再见，先生。"
　　乔离开了，达什伍德先生跷起了脚，得体地评论道："老一套，又穷又傲。不过她能行。"乔按照达什伍德先生的指示，以诺思布里太太作原型，一头扎进了浅薄的通俗文学之海。然而，多亏一个朋友扔给了她救生衣，她才能重新冒出头来，没为这次落水所窒息。
　　像大多数年轻的蹩脚作家一样，乔到国外去寻找人物和景致。她的舞台上出现了恶棍、伯爵、吉普赛人、尼姑、公爵夫人。这些人物如预期的那样，行为、精神都贴近生活。读者们对语法、标点符号、可能性之类的琐碎小事并不挑剔，因而达什伍德先生貌似好心地以最低的稿酬允请她做他的专栏作家。他认为没有必要将接受她的真正原因告诉她。事实上他雇用的一个作家因为别人开了更高的价而撒手不干了，卑鄙地让他陷入了困境。
　　她很快便对她的工作产生了兴趣，因为她瘪下去的钱包鼓了起来。一个个的星期过去了，她为明年夏天带贝思去山里准备的小积蓄开始增加了，虽然速度很慢，但是确实在增加。满足中有件事使她不安，那就是她没有将这件事告诉家人。她有种感觉，爸爸妈妈不会赞许她的，可是她还是宁肯先随心干着，然后再请求原谅。保守这个秘密很容易，因为故事没署她的名字。达什伍德先生当然不久就发现了真相，可是答应保持沉默。说也奇怪，他竟遵守了诺言。
　　她想这样做对她没有什么害处，她真诚地打算，绝不去写那些使她感到羞耻的东西。她期待着那幸福的时刻，到那时她拿给家人看她的钱，拿这个守得很严的秘密换取家人的快乐，这样，她也就抵销了良心的责备。
　　但是，除了惊心动魄的故事，别的东西达什伍德先生一概拒绝，而这种小说一定要折磨读者的感情，不然就称不上惊险小说。要写惊险小说还得遍搜历史和传奇，陆地和海洋，科学和艺术，政治卷宗和疯人院。乔不久就发现，她天真无邪的经历使她不大能看到构成社会基础的悲剧世界。因此从事务的角度出发，她开始用独特的能源弥补她的不足。她急切想找到故事的素材，一心想着即便不能把故事策划得很熟练，也要使情节新颖。她到报纸里去搜寻事故、事件以及犯罪活动。她去借阅有关毒药的书，使公共图书馆管理员起了疑心。她研究着大街上行人的脸，研究身边所有的人，不管是好人、坏人还是冷漠的人。她在古代的废墟中寻找事实或虚构。它们太古老了，倒和新的一样新奇。她尽量利用有限的机会接触那些愚行、罪恶与苦难。她以为她干得相当成功，但是不知不觉地，她开始亵渎了妇女身上的一些温柔的气质。
　　她身处不良社会，虽然那是想象中的，但对她产生了影响，因为她的心灵和想象都在汲取着危险的、不正常的养分。她过早地熟悉了生活的阴暗面，很快将她性情中天真无邪的青春光彩一扫而光。当然，我们每个人不久都会面对生活阴暗面的。
　　她开始感觉到了这一切，这不是看出来的，因为，过多地描述别人的激情与感情，使她研究、思索起自己的感情来--一种病态的乐趣，心理健康的年轻人是不会沉缅于这种乐趣中的。做错事总会带来惩罚，而当乔最需要这种惩罚时，她得到了。
　　我不知道是什么帮助她了解人物，是莎士比亚的研究呢，还是女人向往诚实、勇敢、强壮这些气质的自然本能？乔一边将太阳底下最完美的气质赋予她想象中的英雄，一边也发现了一个活生生的英雄。这个英雄虽然有许多人类的不完美之处，但是仍使她产生了兴趣。巴尔先生在一次谈话中建议她研究纯洁、真实、可爱的人物，不管她是在哪儿发现这些人物的，并将这作为一种良好的写作训练，乔相信了她的话，冷静地转过身开始研究他--要是他知道她这样做的话，定会大吃一惊的，因为令人尊敬的教授自认为自己是个小人物。
　　首先，为什么每个人都喜欢教授，这令乔迷惑不解。他既不富有也不伟大，既不年轻也不漂亮，无论在哪方面都不能算迷人、气派或者漂亮。然而，他像给人温暖的火那样吸引人。人们自然地围绕在他身边，好像围在暖和的壁炉前。他贫穷，但似乎总是在给人东西；他是外国人，可每个人都是他的朋友；他已不年轻了，可孩子般幸福快乐；他长相平平，还有点古怪，然而在许多人看来他是漂亮的，只为了他的缘故，大家痛快地原谅他的怪癖。乔常常观察他，想发现他的魅力所在。最后她认定是仁爱之心产生的奇迹。他若是有些悲哀，便"头插在翅膀下伏着"，他只将光明的一面展示于世人。他的额头上有皱纹，但是时间老人似乎记得他对别人非常和善，也就轻轻地触摸他。他嘴角的曲线令人愉快，那是对他的友好的话语、欢欣的笑容的一种纪念。他的眼睛既不冷漠，也不严厉。他的大手有一种温暖的强大的控制力，这种控制力比语言表达得更充分。
　　他穿的衣服似乎也带有穿衣者好客的特性。衣服看上去宽宽松松，好像想使他舒适。宽大的背心暗示着里面有一颗硕大的心脏。褪了色的外套带着爱交际的神气。松驰下垂的口袋显然证明了有些小手空着插进去，满着拿出来。他的靴子使人感到亲切，他的领子不像其他人的那样坚硬、挺括。
　　"就是这样！"乔自言自语。她终于发现，真心地对同胞抱有善良的愿望能使人变美，给人尊严。这个强壮的德国教师就是如此。他大口吃饭，自己缝补短袜，还承受着巴尔这么个名字。
　　乔很看重美德，也尊重才智，这是非常女性化的。有关教授的一个小发现更增加了她对他的敬重。没有人知道，在他出生的城市，他因他的学识和正直的人品享有盛誉，受人尊敬。他自己从未说过。后来，一个同乡来看他，在和诺顿小姐谈话时说出了这个令人高兴的事实，乔是从诺顿小姐处得知的，因为巴尔先生从来没说过，乔更喜欢了。尽管巴尔先生在美国是个可怜的语言教师，他在柏林却是个体面的教授，乔为此感到自豪。那个发现给他的生活添加了浪漫的佐料，大大诗化了他其实、勤勉的生活。
　　巴尔身上还有一种比智力更优秀的才能，这种才能以一种最出人意料的方式展示给了乔。诺顿小姐能够随意出入文学圈，要不是她，乔不可能有机会见识的。这个寂寞的女人对心怀抱负的女孩产生了兴趣，她将许多这样的恩惠赐予乔，同时也赐予了教授。一天晚上，她带他们去参加一个为一些著名人士举办的特别酒会。
　　乔去了酒会，她准备向那些伟大的人物鞠躬致敬。身处遥远的地方时，她就带着年轻人特有的热情崇拜这些人。然而，那天晚上，她对天才们的景仰之情受到了严重的冲击。她发现伟大的人物毕竟也不过是男人和女人。过了一些时候，她才从这种发现中恢复过来。她带着崇敬之心，害羞地偷偷片了一眼一个诗人，他的诗句使人联想到一个以"精神、火、露水"为生的太空人，可乔却看到他在满腔热情地大口吞吃着晚饭，那种热情烧红了他那智慧的脸庞，可以想象乔此时的沮丧。从这个倒塌的偶像转过去，又发现了别的东西，这迅即排除了她浪漫的幻想。那个伟大的小说家像钟摆一样有规律地在两个圆酒瓶之间摆动着，那著名的天才竟然向一个当代的斯塔尔夫人调着情，而她却怒视着另一个科琳，科琳在温和地挖苦她，她为了专心听那思想深邃的哲学家讲话，用计智胜了她。哲学家故作姿态地啜着茶，好像要睡着了；那女子喋喋不休，使谈话无法进行。而那些科学名士们此刻忘掉了软体动物和冰川时期，聊起了艺术，一边专心致志地大口猛吃牡蛎和冰淇淋。那个年轻的音乐家就像第二个奥菲士一样曾使整个城市着魔，现在他谈起了赛马。在场的英国名流们的代表碰巧是酒会中最普通的人。
　　酒会还未开到一半，乔的幻想完全破灭了。她在一个角落里坐下来清醒清醒。很快，巴尔先生也坐过来了，他看上去与这里的气氛格格不久。不久，几个哲学家走上酒会讲坛轻松地谈起了各自喜爱的话题，举行了一场智力锦标赛。乔压根儿不懂这种谈话，但她还是欣赏这场谈话，尽管康德和黑格尔是她不知道的神，主场与客场是莫名其妙的术语。谈话结束了，她头疼得厉害，这就是"出自她内心意识"的唯一产物。她渐渐明白过来，根据这些谈话者的观点，世界正被砸得粉碎，在用新的、比以前好得多的原则重新组合，而宗教很少能被推论成无价值的东西，智力将是唯一的上帝。乔对哲学或任何一种玄学都一无所知，但是她听着谈话，产生了一种莫名的激动，半是快乐，半是痛苦。她感到自己就像节日里放飞的小气球，被送进时间与空间里飘浮着。
　　她转过头来看看教授是否欣赏，发现他正表情异常严肃地看着她。她从未见过他的这种表情。他招手要她离开，可是就在那时，她被思辩哲学的自由性吸引了，就坐着没动。她想知道那些聪明的先生们消灭了所有的老信仰之后，打算依赖什么。
　　现在，巴尔先生又变得缺乏自信起来，他不急着发表他的意见了，并不是他的意见动摇不定，而是他太诚挚、太认真了，不能轻易表达。他的目光扫过乔和其他几个年轻人，他们都被耀眼的哲学火花吸引住了。教授拧起了眉，他极想说话。他担心某些易激动的年轻人会被这烟火引入岐途，结果发现展示会结束，只剩下燃尽的爆竹棒，或者被灼伤的手。
　　他尽量忍着，但是，当有人请他发表意见时，他便诚实地表达了他的愤怒。他用雄辩的事实捍卫着宗教--雄辩使他蹩脚的英语变得动听起来，他那平常的脸也变得漂亮了。他的仗打得艰难，因为那些聪明人很会辩论。他不知道什么时候给击败了，但是他以男子汉的气派坚持自己的观点。不知怎么回事，他谈着谈着，乔感到世界又恢复了正常，持续这么长时间的古老信仰似乎比新的信仰要好，上帝并不是一种看不见的力量，永生也不是美丽的童话，而是幸运的事实。她感到自己又稳稳地站在了地上，当巴尔先生住了口，乔想拍手感谢他。巴尔说得比那些人好，可是一点也没有说服那些人。
　　她既没拍手，也没感谢，可是她记住了那个场面，打心眼里尊敬他。她知道他在当时当地表达看法是费了一番劲的，他的良心不允许他保持沉默，她开始明白气质是比金钱、地位、智力，或者美貌更好的财产。她感到，如同一个智者下的定义，要是高尚便是"真实、威望和善良的愿望"，那么，她的朋友弗里德里克·巴尔不仅善良，而且高尚。
　　这种信念日渐坚定。她看重他的评价。她妄想得到他的尊重。她希望自己能配得上做他的朋友。她的愿望非常真挚，可就在这时，她几乎失去了一切。这事起因于一顶三角帽。一个晚上，教授进屋来给乔上课，头上戴着顶纸做的士兵帽，是蒂娜放上去的，他忘了拿下来。
　　"显然，他下楼前没照镜子，"在她说"晚上好"时，乔笑着想道。他严肃地坐下来，压根儿没注意到他的主题和头饰之间让人发笑的对照。他打算给她读《华伦斯坦之死》。
　　开始她什么也没说，因为发生了好笑的事，她喜欢听他开怀大笑，所以她留待他自己发现，一会儿就把这事给忘了。
　　听一个德国人朗读席勒的作品是件相当吸引人的事情。朗读完毕做功课，这也是件高兴事，因为那天晚上乔心情快乐，那顶三角帽使她的眼睛欢乐地闪着光。教授不知道她怎么回事，最后忍不住了，他略带惊奇地问--"马奇小姐，你当着老师的面笑什么？你不尊重我了，这样顽皮？""先生，你忘了把帽子拿下来，我怎么尊重你？"乔说。
　　心不在焉的教授严肃地抬起手在头上摸着，取下了那个小三角帽，看了它一分钟，然后快活地仰头大笑，笑声像是大提琴发出的声音。
　　"噢，我看到帽子了，是那个小淘气蒂娜干的，让我成了个傻瓜。好吧，没关系，你瞧，要是你今天功课学得不好，你也要戴这帽子。"可是功课停了一会儿，因为教授一眼看到帽子上有幅画。
　　他拆开帽子，非常厌恶地说："我希望这种报纸别进入这座房子。它们既不适合孩子们，也不适合年轻人。报纸办得不好，我忍受不了那些干这种缺德事的人。"乔瞥了一眼报纸，看到一幅可爱的画，画上有一个疯子，一具尸体，一个恶棍和一条毒蛇，她不喜欢这个。但并非由于不喜欢，而是一种担心的冲动使她打开了报纸，因为有那么一瞬间她想象那是《火山周报》。然而那不是的。她又想到即便是《火山周报》，即便上面有她的故事，没有她的署名，也就不会出卖她。她的恐慌平息了，然而她的神情，她羞红了的脸还是出卖了她。教授虽然心不在焉，但觉察到的事情比别人想象的多得多。他知道乔在写作，不止一次在报社遇到过她，可由于乔从来不说起此事，他虽然极想读她的作品，还是从不问及。现在他突然想到，她在做一件自己不好意思承认的事，这使他担忧。他不像许多别的人那样对自己说："这不关我的事，我无权过问。"他只记得她是个贫穷的年轻姑娘，远离父母无法得到妈妈的爱、爸爸的关怀。他受一种冲动的驱使要帮助她。这种冲动来得迅速、自然，就像伸手去救助一个掉进水坑的婴儿那样。这些念头在他脑中一闪而过，他脸上没露一丝痕迹。报纸翻过去了，乔的针穿上了线。
　　到了这时，他已准备好说话了。他相当自然但是非常严肃地说--"对，你把报纸拿开是对的，依我看，好的年轻姑娘不应该看这种东西。这些东西使一些人愉快，但是我宁愿给我的孩子们玩火药，也不给他们读这种破烂东西。""并不是所有的都坏，只是愚蠢，你知道，假如有人需要它，我看提供它就没什么伤害。许多体面人就用这种叫做轰动小说的东西正当地谋生，"乔说。她用力刮着衣裙，针过处留下一条小细线。
　　"有人需要威士忌，但我想你我都不会去卖它。假如那些体面人知道他们造成了什么样的伤害，他们就不会认为他们的谋生方式是正当的了。他们没有权利在小糖果里放毒药，再让小孩子们吃。不，他们应该想一想，做这种事之前先得扫除掉肮脏的东西。"巴尔先生激烈地说着，揉皱了报纸走到火边。三角帽变成了烟，从烟囱里散发出去，不再为害人间了。乔一动不动地坐在那里，好像那火烧到了她，因为烧过帽子后很长时间，乔的面孔还在发烧。
　　"我倒想把所有的报纸都这样烧掉，"教授咕哝着，带着宽慰的神情从火边走了回来。
　　乔想象着楼上她那一堆报纸会成为怎样的一团火。此刻，那好不容易挣来的钱沉重地压着她的良心。接着她又宽慰自己："我的故事不像那些，只是愚蠢，根本不坏，所以我不用担心。"她拿起书本，带着好学的表情问："我们接着学，先生？现在我会非常用心，非常认真。""我倒希望这样。"他只说了这一句，但是言外之意比她想象的要多。他严肃而又和善地看着她，使她感到《火山周报》几个字仿佛以粗体字印在她的额头。
　　她一回到自己屋子，便拿出了报纸，仔细地重新阅读了她写的每一篇故事。巴尔先生有点近视，有时戴眼镜。乔曾经试着戴过它，笑着看到它能把书中的小字放大。现在，她仿佛也戴上了教授的眼镜，不过这眼镜是精神上的或道德上的，因为那些粗劣的故事中的瑕疵令人可怕地怒视着她，使她充满沮丧。
　　"它们是破烂货，要是我继续写下去，会变得比破烂货还要糟糕，因为我每写一个故事，都比前一个更耸人听闻。我盲目地为钱写下去，伤害了自己，也伤害了别人。我知道就是这样的，因为我没法严肃认真地读这些而不感到羞愧难当。
　　要是家人读到了这些，要是巴尔先生得到了这些，我该怎么呢？"仅仅想到这一点，乔的脸又发烫了。她把整整一捆报纸投进了火炉，火光熊熊差点把烟囱燃着了。
　　"是的，这是那种易燃的废品的最好去处。我想，我宁愿把房子烧了，也不愿别人用我的火药炸毁自己。"她一边想着一边注视着《法律之魔》突然消失，它已变成眼睛闪闪发光的一堆黑色灰烬。
　　三个月的工作化成了一堆灰烬和放在膝盖上的钱。这时，乔严肃起来。她坐在地上，考虑着该用这钱做些什么。
　　"我想，我还没有造成太大伤害，可以保留这些钱作为我花掉时间的报酬，"她说。考虑良久，她又急躁地接着说："我真希望我没有良心，这太麻烦了。要是我做不好事时不在乎，不感到不安，那我就会过得极好。有时我不由希望爸爸妈妈对这件事不那样苛求。"哦，乔，别那样希望了，应该感谢上帝，爸爸妈妈确是那样苛求，打心眼里可怜那些没有这样的保护者的人们吧。保护者用原则将他们围住，这些原则在急躁的年轻人看来可能就像监狱的围墙，但它们被证明确实是妇人们培养良好气质的基矗乔没有再写追求轰动效应的故事，她认为钱偿付不了她所受到的那份轰动。像她那一类人常做的那样，她走了另一个极端。她学了一系列课程，研究了舍伍德夫人、埃奇沃思小姐和汉娜·摩尔，然后写出了一个故事，故事里的道德说教那样强烈，以致于把它叫做小品文或说教文更为恰当。她从一开始就心存疑虑，因为她活跃的想像力和女孩家的浪漫心理使她对这种新的写作风格感到不安，就像化装舞会时穿上个世纪的僵硬的累赘服装一样。她把这个说教式的佳作送往几个市场，结果没找到买主。她不得不同意达什伍德先生的说法，道德没有销路。
　　后来，她又试着写了个儿童故事。要不是她图利想多要几个臭钱，这个故事她能轻易出手的。唯一向她提供足够的钱，使她值得一试儿童文学的人是一位令人尊敬的先生。这位先生觉得他的使命就是让世人都转而信奉他的教义。但是，虽然乔喜欢为孩子们写作，她还是不能同意把所有不去特定主日学校上学的顽皮孩子都写成被熊吃了，或者被疯牛挑了，而去上学的好孩子则得到各种各样的天赐之福，从金色的姜饼，到他们离开尘世时护送的天使，天使们还口齿不清地唱着赞美诗或者布着道。因此，在这样的考验下，乔没有写出任何作品。她盖上了墨水台，一时谦恭起来，这种谦恭非常有益。她说--"我什么也不懂了，我要等懂了以后再试。同时，如果我不能写出更好的东西。我就'扫除掉肮脏的东西'，这样至少是诚实的。"这个决定证明，她从豆茎上的第二次摔落对她有些好处。
　　当她进行这种内心革命时，她的外在生活和平常一样忙碌，没有风波。假使她有时看着严肃或者有点悲哀，除了巴尔教授，没人觉察得到。他静静地观察她，乔根本不知道他在观察她是否接受了并获益于他的责备，然而乔经受住了考验，他满意了。虽然他们之间没有言语交流，他知道她已经停止写作了。这不光光是从她右手的食指猜测出来的，现在她的食指不再沾有墨迹了。她的晚上在楼下度过了，在报社也不再能遇上她了。她以顽强的耐力学习着。这一切使他确信，她决心全神贯注于一些有用的事，即便这些事并不都是她想做的。
　　他在许多方面帮助她，不愧为真正的朋友。乔感到幸福，因为她不再写那些小说了。除了德语，她还学习其他的课程，为她自己生活中的轰动故事打着基矗在这个漫长的冬天，她的心中为愉悦之情所充满。六月，她离开了柯克太太。告别之时，每个人都显得很难过，孩子们尤其没法安慰。巴尔先生的满头头发直竖着，因为当他心烦意乱时，总是把头发揉得乱七八糟。
　　"要回家了？噢，你很幸福，有家可回，"行前的最后一个晚上她见到他把回家这件事告诉他的时候，他这样说。他坐在屋子角落里抚弄着胡子。
　　她很早就得动身，所以头天晚上就和所有的人道别。轮到他时，她热情地说："嗯，先生，别忘了，要是路过我那里，希望你来看我们，好吗？你来，我肯定不会忘记你的，我想让全家人都认识我的朋友。""真的，你要我去吗？"他问。他带着乔从未看过的急切神情看着她。
　　"是的，下个月来吧，劳里那时毕业，你会把毕业典礼当作趣事来欣赏的。""你说的那个人是你最要好的朋友？"他的语气变了。
　　"是的，我的男孩特迪。我为他非常自豪，也希望你见见他。"然后乔抬起头来，根本没意识到什么，只想着介绍他们两个见面时的快乐。巴尔先生脸上的某种神色使她突然想起，也许劳里不仅仅是她"最要好的朋友"。正是因为她特别希望显出没事儿的神情，她开始不自觉地脸红了。她越不想这样，脸就越红。要不是坐在她膝上的蒂娜，她真不知道事情会怎样收常幸好，那孩子动情地要拥抱她，于是她顺势将脸转过去了一会儿。她希望教授没觉察，但是他觉察了，也从瞬间的焦虑转为平常的神情。他诚挚地说--"我可能抽不出时间去参加毕业典礼，但是我祝愿那位朋友大获成功。祝你们大家幸福。上帝保佑你！"说完，他热情地和乔握了手，然后用肩膀驮起蒂娜离开了。
　　然而，孩子们上床后，巴尔在火炉边坐了很长时间。他面带倦容。"ｈｅｉｍｗｅｈ"，也就是思乡之情，重重地压在他的心头。他回忆起乔坐在那里，小孩子抱在膝盖上，脸上带着柔和的表情，不由双手托起了头。过了一会儿，他在屋子里踱起步来，仿佛在寻找一些他无法找到的东西。
　　"那不是我的，我现在不应该心存希望了。"他自言自语地叹着，那叹息几乎是呻吟。然后，像是责备自己无法遏制的渴求，他走过去亲了亲枕头上两个头发散乱的小脑袋，拿下他那很少使用的海泡石烟斗，打开了他的柏拉图。
　　他尽了自己的最大努力，事情处理得很有男子汉脾气。但是依我看，他不会觉得两个不受管束的小男孩，一个烟斗，甚至那神圣的柏拉图，能够如愿地代替家里的妻子和孩子。
　　第二天早晨，虽然天很早，他还是到车站为乔送行。幸亏有了他的送行，乔在孤独的旅途中才能沉浸在温柔的回忆中。一张亲切的面孔笑着向她道别，一束紫罗兰和她相伴。最美好的是，她幸福地想着："嗯，冬天过去了，我一本书都没写，也没有发财。但是我交了一个很值得相处的朋友。我要努力一辈子享有他的友谊。"

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一二三四五六七~~~

举报只看该作者 36楼发表于: 2013-10-25 0

Chapter Thirty-five Heartache

Whatever his motive might have been, Laurie studied to some purpose that year, for he graduated with honor, and gave the Latin oration with the grace of a Phillips and the eloquence of a Demosthenes, so his friends said. They were all there, his grandfather--oh, so proud--Mr. and Mrs. March, John and Meg, Jo and Beth, and all exulted over him with the sincere admiration which boys make light of at the time, but fail to win from the world by any after-triumphs.
"I've got to stay for this confounded supper, but I shall be home early tomorrow. You'll come and meet me as usual, girls?" Laurie said, as he put the sisters into the carriage after the joys of the day were over. He said `girls', but he meant Jo, for she was the only one who kept up the old custom. She had not the heart to refuse her splendid, successful boy anything, and answered warmly...
"I'll come, Teddy, rain or shine, and march before you, playing `Hail the conquering hero comes' on a jew's-harp."
Laurie thanked her with a look that made her think in a sudden panic, "Oh, deary me! I know he'll say something, and then what shall I do?" Evening meditation and morning work somewhat allayed her fears, and having decided that she wouldn't be vain enough to think people were going to propose when she had given them every reason to know what her answer would be, she set forth at the appointed time, hoping Teddy wouldn't do anything to make her hurt his poor feelings. A call at Meg's, and a refreshing sniff and sip at the Daisy and Demijohn, still further fortified her for the tete-a-tete, but when she saw a stalwart figure looming in the distance, she had a strong desire to turn about and run away.
"Where's the jew's-harp, Jo?" cried Laurie, as soon as he was within speaking distance.

"I forgot it." And Jo took heart again, for that salutation could not be called loverlike.
She always used to take his arm on these occasions, now she did not, and he made no complaint, which was a bad sign, but talked on rapidly about all sorts of faraway subjects, till they turned from the road into the little path that led homeward through the grove. Then he walked more slowly, suddenly lost his fine flow of language, and now and then a dreadful pause occurred. To rescue the conversation from one of the wells of silence into which it kept falling, Jo said hastily, "Now you must have a good long holiday!"
"I intend to."
Something in his resolute tone made Jo look up quickly to find him looking down at her with an expression that assured her the dreaded moment had come, and made her put out her hand with an imploring, "No, Teddy. Please don't!"
"I will, and you must hear me. It's no use, Jo, we've got to have it out, and the sooner the better for both of us," he answered, getting flushed and excited all at once.
"Say what you like then. I'll listen," said Jo, with a desperate sort of patience.
Laurie was a young lover, but he was in earnest, and meant to `have it out', if he died in the attempt, so he plunged into the subject with characteristic impetuousity, saying in a voice that would get choky now and then, in spite of manful efforts to keep it steady . ..
"I've loved you ever since I've known you, Jo, couldn't help it, you've been so good to me. I've tried to show it, but you wouldn't let me. Now I'm going to make you hear, and give me an answer, for I can't go on so any longer."
"I wanted to save you this. I thought you'd understand... began Jo, finding it a great deal harder than she expected.
"I know you did, but the girls are so queer you never know what they mean. They say no when they mean yes, and drive a man out of his wits just for the fun of it," returned Laurie, entrenching himself behind an undeniable fact.
"I don't. I never wanted to make you care for me so, and I went away to keep you from it if I could."
"I thought so. It was like you, but it was no use. I only loved you all the more, and I worked hard to please you, and I gave up billiards and everything you didn't like, and waited and never complained, for I hoped you'd love me, though I'm not half good enough..." Here there was a choke that couldn't be controlled, so he decapitated buttercups while he cleared his `confounded throat'.
"You, you are, you're a great deal too good for me, and I'm so grateful to you, and so proud and fond of you, I don't know why I can't love you as you want me to. I've tried, but I can't change the feeling, and it would be a lie to say I do when I don't."
"Really, truly, Jo?" He stopped short, and caught both her hands as he put his question with a look that she did not soon forget.
"Really, truly, dear."
They were in the grove now, close by the stile, and when the last words fell reluctantly from Jo's lips, Laurie dropped her hands and turned as if to go on, but for once in his life the fence was too much for him. So he just laid his head down on the mossy post, and stood so still that Jo was frightened.
"Oh, Teddy, I'm sorry, so desperately sorry, I could kill myself if it would do any good! I wish you wouldn't take it so hard, I can't help it. You know it's impossible for people to make themselves love other people if they don't," cried Jo inelegantly but remorsefully, as she softly patted his shoulder, remembering the time when he had comforted her so long ago.
"They do sometimes," said a muffled voice from the post. "I don't believe it's the right sort of love, and I'd rather not try it," was the decided answer.
There was a long pause, while a blackbird sung blithely on the willow by the river, and the tall grass rustled in the wind. Presently Jo said very soberly, as she sat down on the step of the stile, "Laurie, I want to tell you something."
He started as if he had been shot, threw up his head, and cried out in a fierce tone, "Don't tell me that, Jo, I can't bear it now!"
"Tell what?" she asked, wondering at his violence.
"That you love that old man."
"What old man?" demanded Jo, thinking he must mean his grandfather.
"That devilish Professor you were always writing about. If you say you love him, I know I shall do something desperate." And he looked as if he would keep his word, as he clenched his hands with a wrathful spark in his eyes.
Jo wanted to laugh, but restrained herself and said warmly, for she too, was getting excited with all this, "Don't swear, Teddy! He isn't old, nor anything bad, but good and kind, and the best friend I've got, next to you. Pray, don't fly into a passion. I want to be kind, but I know I shall get angry if you abuse my Professor. I haven't the least idea of loving him or anybody else."
"But you will after a while, and then what will become of me?"
"You'll love someone else too, like a sensible boy, and forget all this trouble."
"I can't love anyone else, and I'll never forget you, Jo, Never! Never!" with a stamp to emphasize his passionate words.
"What shall I do with him?" sighed Jo, finding that emotions were more unmanagable than she expected. "You haven't heard what I wanted to tell you. Sit down and listen, for indeed I want to do right and make you happy," she said, hoping to soothe him with a little reason, which proved that she knew nothing about love.
Seeing a ray of hope in that last speech, Laurie threw himself down on the grass at her feet, leaned his arm on the lower step of the stile, and looked up at her with an expectant face. Now that arrangement was not conducive to calm speech or clear thought on Jo's part, for how could she say hard things to her boy while he watched her with eyes full of love and longing, and lashes still wet with the bitter drop or two her hardness of heart had wrung from him? She gently turned his head away, saying, as she stroked the wavy hair which had been allowed to grow for her sake--how touching that was, to be sure! "I agree with Mother that you and I are not suited to each other, because our quick tempers and strong wills would probably make us very miserable, if we were so foolish as to..." Jo paused a little over the last word, but Laurie uttered it with a rapturous expression.
"Marry--no we shouldn't! If you loved me, Jo, I should be a perfect saint, for you could make me anything you like."
"No, I can't. I've tried and failed, and I won't risk our happiness by such a serious experiment. We don't agree and we never shall, so we'll be good friends all our lives, but we won't go and do anything rash."
"Yes, we will if we get the chance," muttered Laurie rebelliously.
"Now do be reasonable, and take a sensible view of the case," implored Jo, almost at her wit's end.
"I won't be reasonable. I don't want to take what you call `a sensible view'. It won't help me, and it only makes it harder. I don't believe you've got any heart."

"I wish I hadn't."
There was a little quiver in Jo's voice, and thinking it a good omen, Laurie turned round, bringing all his persuasive powers to bear as he said, in the wheedlesome tone that had never been so dangerously wheedlesome before, "Don't disappoint us, dear! Everyone expects it. Grandpa has set his heart upon it, your people like it, and I can't get on without you. Say you will, and let's be happy. Do, do!"
Not until months afterward did Jo understand how she had the strength of mind to hold fast to the resolution she had made when she decided that she did not love her boy, and never could. It was very hard to do, but she did it, knowing that delay was both useless and cruel.
"I can't say `yes' truly, so I won't say it at all. You'll see that I'm right, by-and-by, and thank me for it..." she began solemnly.
"I'll be hanged if I do!" And Laurie bounced up off the grass, burning with indignation at the very idea.
"Yes, you will!" persisted Jo. "You'll get over this after a while, and find some lovely accomplished girl, who will adore you, and make a fine mistress for your fine house. I shouldn't. I'm homely and awkward and odd and old, and you'd be ashamed of me, and we should quarrel--we can't help it even now, you see-and I shouldn't like elegant society and you would, and you'd hate my scribbling, and I couldn't get on without it, and we should be unhappy, and wish we hadn't done it, and everything would be horrid!"
"Anything more?" asked asked Laurie, finding it hard to listen patiently to this prophetic burst.
"Nothing more, except that I don't believe I shall ever marry. I'm happy as I am, and love my liberty too well to be in a hurry to give it up for any mortal man."
"I know better!" broke in Laurie. "You think so now, but there'll come a time when you will care for somebody, and you'll love him tremendously, and live and die for him. I know you will, it's your way, and I shall have to stand by and see it." And the despairing lover cast his hat upon the ground with a gesture that would have seemed comical, if his face had not been so tragic.
"Yes, I will live and die for him, if her ever comes and makes me love him in spite of myself, and you must do the best you can!" cried Jo, losing patience with poor Teddy. "I've done my best, but you won't be reasonable, and it's selfish of you to keep teasing for what I can't give. I shall always be fond of you, very fond indeed, as a friend, but I'll never marry you, and the sooner you believe it the better for both of us--so now!"
That speech was like gunpowder. Laurie looked at her a minute as if he did not quite know what to do with himself, then turned sharply away, saying in a desperate sort of tone, "You'll be sorry some day, Jo."
"Oh, where are you going?" she cried, for his face frightened her.
"To the devil!" was the consoling answer.
For a minute Jo's heart stood still, as he swung himself down the bank toward the river, but it takes much folly, sin or misery to send a young man to a violent death, and Laurie was not one of the weak sort who are conquered by a single failure. He had no thought of a melodramatic plunge, but some blind instinct led him to fling hat and coat into his boat, and row away with all his might, making better time up the river than he had done in any race. Jo drew a long breath and unclasped her hands as she watched the poor fellow trying to outstrip the trouble which he carried in his heart.
"That will do him good, and he'll come home in such a tender, penitent state of mind, that I shan't dare to see him." she said, adding, as she went slowly home, feeling as if she had murdered some innocent thing, and buried it under the leaves. "Now I must go and prepare Mr. Laurence to be very kind to my poor boy. I wish he'd love Beth, perhaps he may in time, but I begin to think I was mistaken about her. Oh dear! How can girls like to have lovers and refuse them? I think it's dreadful."
Being sure that no one could do it so well as herself, she went straight to Mr. Laurence, told the hard story bravely through, and then broke down, crying so dismally over her own insensibility that the kind old gentleman, though sorely disappointed, did not utter a reproach. He found it difficult to understand how any girl could help loving Laurie, and hoped she would change her mind, but he knew even better than Jo that love cannot be forced, so he shook his head sadly and resolved to carry his boy out of harm's way, for Young Impetuosity's parting words to Jo disturbed him more than he would confess.
When Laurie came home, dead tired but quite composed, his grandfather met him as if he knew nothing, and kept up the delusion very successfully for an hour or two. But when they sat together in the twilight, the time they used to enjoy so much, it was hard work for the old man to ramble on as usual, and harder still for the young one to listen to praises of the last year's success, which to him now seemed like love's labor lost. He bore it as long as he could, then went to his piano and began to play. The window's were open, and Jo, walking in the garden with Beth, for once understood music better than her sister, for he played the `SONATA PATHETIQUE', and played it as he never did before.
"That's very fine, I dare say, but it's sad enough to make one cry. Give us something gayer, lad," said Mr. Laurence, whose kind old heart was full of sympathy, which he longed to show but knew not how.
Laurie dashed into a livelier strain, played stormily for several minutes, and would have got through bravely, if in a momentary lull Mrs. March's voice had not been heard calling, "Jo, dear, come in. I want you."
Just what Laurie longed to say, with a different meaning! As he listened, he lost his place, the music ended with a broken chord, and the musician sat silent in the dark.
"I can't stand this," muttered the old gentleman. Up he got, groped his way to the piano, laid a kind hand on either of the broad shoulders, and said, as gently as a woman, "I know, my boy, I know."
No answer for an instant, then Laurie asked sharply, "Who told you?"
"Jo herself."
"Then there's an end of it!" And he shook off his grandfather's hands with an impatient motion, for though grateful for the sympathy, his man's pride could not bear a man's pity.
"Not quite. I want to say one thing, and then there shall be an end of it," returned Mr. Laurence with unusual mildness. "You won't care to stay at home now, perhaps?"
"I don't intend to run away from a girl. Jo can't prevent my seeing her, and I shall stay and do it as long as I like," interrupted Laurie in a defiant tone.
"Not if you are the gentleman I think you. I'm disappointed, but the girl can't help it, and the only thing left for you to do is to go away for a time. Where will you go?"
"Anywhere. I don't care what becomes of me." And Laurie got up with a reckless laugh that grated on his grandfather's ear.
"Take it like a man, and don't do anything rash, for God's sake. Why not go abroad, as you planned, and forget it?"
"I can't."
"But you've been wild to go, and I promised you should when you got through college."
"Ah, but I didn't mean to go alone!" And Laurie walked fast through the room with an expression which it was well his grandfather did not see.
"I don't ask you to go alone. There's someone ready and glad to go with you, anywhere in the world."
"Who, Sir?' stopping to listen.
"Myself."
Laurie came back as quickly as he went, and put out his hand, saying huskily, "I'm a selfish brute, but--you know-Grandfather--"
"Lord help me, yes, I do know, for I've been through it all before, once in my own young days, and then with your father. Now, my dear boy, just sit quietly down and hear my plan. It's all settled, and can be carried out at once," said Mr. Laurence, keeping hold of the young man, as if fearful that he would break away as his father had done before him.
"Well, sir, what is it?" And Laurie sat down, without a sign of interest in face or voice.
"There is business in London that needs looking after. I meant you should attend to it, but I can do it better myself, and things here will get on very well with Brooke to manage them. My partners do almost everything, I'm merely holding on until you take my place, and can be off at any time."
"But you hate traveling, Sir. I can't ask it of you at your age," began Laurie, who was grateful for the sacrifice, but much preferred to go alone, if he went at all. The old gentleman knew that perfectly well, and particularly desired to prevent it, for the mood in which he found his grandson assured him that it would not be wise to leave him to his own devices. So, stifling a natural regret at the thought of the home comforts he would leave behind him, he said stoutly, Bless your soul, I'm not superannuated yet. I quite enjoy the idea. It will do me good, and my old bones won't suffer, for traveling nowadays is almost as easy as sitting in a chair."
A restless movement from Laurie suggested that his chair was not easy, or that he did not like the plan, and made the old man add hastily, "I don't mean to be a marplot or a burden. I go because I think you'd feel happier than if I was left behind. I don't intend to gad about with you, but leave you free to go where you like, while I amuse myself in my own way. I've friends in London and Paris, and should like to visit them. Meantime you can go to Italy, Germany, Switzerland, where you will, and enjoy pictures, music, scenery, and adventures to your heart's content."
Now, Laurie felt just then that his heart was entirely broken and the world a howling wilderness, but at the sound of certain words which the old gentleman artfully introduced into his closing sentence, the broken heart gave an unexpected leap, and a green oasis or two suddenly appeared in the howling wilderness. He sighed, and then said, in a spiritless tone, "Just as you like, Sir. It doesn't matter where I go or what I do."
"It does to me, remember that, my lad. I give you entire liberty, but I trust you to make an honest use of it. Promise me that, Laurie."
"Anything you like, Sir."
"Good," thought the old gentleman. "You don't care now, but there'll come a time when that promise will keep you out of mischief, or I'm much mistaken."
Being an energetic individual, Mr. Laurence struck while the iron was hot, and before the blighted being recovered spirit enough to rebel, they were off. During the time necessary for preparation, Laurie bore himself as young gentleman usually do in such cases. He was moody, irritable, and pensive by turns, lost his appetite, neglected his dress and devoted much time to playing tempestuously on his piano, avoided Jo, but consoled himself by staring at her from his window, with a tragic face that haunted her dreams by night and oppressed her with a heavy sense of guilt by day. Unlike some sufferers, he never spoke of his unrequited passion, and would allow no one, not even Mrs. March, to attempt consolation or offer sympathy. On some accounts, this was a relief to his friends, but the weeks before his departure were very uncomfortable, and everyone rejoiced that the `poor, dear fellow was going away to forget his trouble, and come home happy'. Of course, he smiled darkly at their delusion, but passed it by with the sad superiority of one who knew that his fidelity like his love was unalterable.
When the parting came he affected high spirits, to conceal certain inconvenient emotions which seemed inclined to assert themselves. This gaiety did not impose upon anybody, but they tried to look as if it did for his sake, and he got on very well till Mrs. March kissed him, whit a whisper full of motherly solicitude. Then feeling that he was going very fast, he hastily embraced them all round, not forgetting the afflicted Hannah, and ran downstairs as if for his life. Jo followed a minute after to wave her hand to him if he looked round. He did look round, came back, put his arms about her as she stood on the step above him, and looked up at her with a face that made his short appeal eloquent and pathetic.
"Oh, Jo, can't you?"
"Teddy, dear, I wish I could!"
That was all, except a little pause. Then Laurie straightened himself up, said, "It's all right, never mind," and went away without another word. Ah, but it wasn't all right, and Jo did mind, for while the curly head lay on her arm a minute after her hard answer, she felt as if she had stabbed her dearest friend, and when he left her without a look behind him, she knew that the boy Laurie never would come again.

第三十五章伤心

　　不管出于什么动机，那一年劳里的学业相当成功，他以优异的成绩毕了业。他的拉丁语演说有着菲力气斯的优雅，狄摩西尼的雄辩，他的朋友们这样评论。他们都在常他的祖父--哦，那么自豪！--马奇先生和马奇太太，约翰和梅格，乔和贝思，所有人都带着发自内心的赞赏之情为他狂喜。男孩子们当时或许并不在意，可是经历的成功怕是再难得到如此的激赏了。
　　"我得留下来吃这该死的晚饭，明天一早我就回家，姑娘们，你们能像平常那样来接我吗？"快乐的一天结束了，劳里将姑娘们送进车厢时这么说。他说"姑娘们"，其实指的是乔，因为只有她一个人保持着这个老习惯。她不想拒绝她成绩卓著的男孩提出的任何事情，便热情地回答道--"我会来的，特迪，无论如何都会来，我会走在你前面，用单簧口琴为你弹奏《为凯旋的英雄欢呼》。"劳里谢了她，他脸上的神色使乔突然恐慌起来。"哦，天哪！我晓得他要说些什么了。我怎么办呢？"晚上的思索、早上的工作稍稍减轻了她的担忧。她作出判断，在她已让人完全知道她会作什么样的答复之后，对方还会提出求婚，这样想是够愚蠢的。于是她在预定的时间出发了，她希望特迪不会有所行动，使她伤害他那可怜的感情。
　　她先去了梅格家，亲吻逗弄黛西和德米，使她精神振奋起来，也更增强了她对谈的信心。然而，一见到远处逼近的壮健身影，她便产生了掉头跑开的强烈愿望。
　　"单簧口琴在哪里，乔？"一走到能听见说话声之处，劳里便叫了起来。
　　"我忘了。"乔又鼓起了勇气。这样的招呼算不上情人般的招呼。
　　过去在这种场合，她总是抱着他的胳膊。现在她不这样做了，他也不抱怨。这可不是好兆头。他一直很快地谈着遥远的话题，直到他们从大路转向一条经过树林通向家的小路。
　　这时，他步子放慢了，语言也突然不流畅了，谈话不时出现难堪的停顿。为挽回正往沉默之井坠落的谈话，乔急速地说："现在你得过一个愉快的长假了。""我是这么打算的。"他的语调里有种坚定的成份，使得乔迅速抬头看他，却发现他正看着她，那种表情使乔确信令人可怕的时刻来到了。
　　她伸出手恳求着："不，特迪，请你别说！""我要说，你必须听我说。没用的，乔，我们得说出来，越早越好，对我们俩都是这样，"他回答说，突然红了脸，激动起来。
　　"那你就说吧，我听着，"乔说，带着一种豁出去的坚韧之心。
　　劳里是个没有经验的情人，但他是认真的。即便努力失败，他也打算"说出来"。因此，他带着特有的急躁谈开了这个话题。尽管他以男子汉的脾气竭力想保持声音平稳，可还是时而卡了壳。
　　"自从我认识你，乔，我就爱上了你，简直没有办法。你待我那么好。我想表示出来，可你不让。现在我要你听下去，给我个答复，因为我不能再这样下去了。""我想让你别这样，我以为你已经理解了--"乔开口说，她发现情况比她预料的更难办。
　　"我知道你那样想过。可是女孩子很让人奇怪，你根本无法知道她们真正的意思。她们嘴里说'不'，实际上她们的意思是'是'，只是为了弄着玩儿，把男人弄得晕头转向，"劳里回答。他用这个不可否认的事实自卫。
　　"我不是那种人。我从来不想让你那样爱我，只要有可能，我总是走开以免你这样。""我想就是那样，这像是你做的，但是没用。我反而更加爱你了。为了讨你的欢心，我努力学习，我不打台球了，你不喜欢的事我都放弃了。我等待着，从不抱怨，我希望你会爱我，虽然我不够好，一半都不--"说到这里，他嗓子控制不住地哽住了。他瞧着无茛，一边清着他那"该死的喉咙"。
　　"你，你对我，你对我非常好，我那么感激你，我那么为你骄傲，喜欢你。我不知道为什么我不能像你要求于我的那样爱你。我试过，但是，我的感情改变不了。我不管你时却说爱你，那是说谎。""真的吗？一点儿也不假吗，乔？"他突然停住脚，捉住她的双手，提出了这个问题，脸上的表情让乔很久忘不了。
　　"真的，一点也不假，亲爱的。"
　　现在他们已走进小树林，靠近了篱笆两侧的台阶。当最后一个字不情愿地从乔的口中说出时，劳里放下了双手，转身像是要继续走，但是，就这一次，那个篱笆他越不过去了。
　　他只能将脑袋靠在生了苔的柱子上，一动不动地站在那儿。乔给吓坏了。
　　"哦，特迪，我很难过，非常地难过。我愿意杀死我自己，要是这样做有用！希望你别把事看得那么重。我没办法。你知道，要是不爱一个人却非要她去爱是不可能的，"乔生硬却很遗憾地叫着，一边轻轻地拍着他的肩。她记起很久以前他也这样安慰过她。
　　"有时人们是这样做的，"柱子后传来沉闷的声音。
　　"我不相信那是真正的爱。我宁愿不这么试，"回答坚定。
　　长时间的静默。河边的柳树上，一只画眉在欢快地唱着，长长的青草在风中沙沙作响。过了一会儿，乔在篱笆台阶上坐下，非常认真地说："劳里，我想告诉你一些事。"他吃了一惊，好像挨了一熗似的。他把头一昂，大声叫道："别告诉我，乔，我现在受不了！""告诉你什么？"她问，搞不清他为什么发怒。
　　 "你爱那个老头。"
　　"哪个老头？"乔问。她想他肯定是指他爷爷。
　　"那个你写信总谈到的魔鬼教授。要是你说你爱他，我知道我会做出不顾一切的事来的。"他眼睛里冒着愤怒的火花，双拳紧握，似乎真的会去践行其言。
　　乔想笑，可是克制住了自己。这一切使她也激动了，她勇敢地说："别骂人，特迪。他不老，也不坏。他善良，和蔼。
　　除了你，他是我最好的朋友。请不要那样勃然大怒。我想表示友好，可要是你污蔑我的教授，我就会生气的。我一点也没想到过要爱他或者任何一个别的人。""可是过一段时间你会爱他的，那我怎么办呢？""你也会爱上别人的，像一个明智的男孩，忘掉这一切烦恼吧。""我不会爱任何别的人了，我永远也忘不了你，乔，永远，永远！"他一踩脚，用以强调他那激昂的话语。
　　"我拿他怎么办呢？"乔叹了口气。她发现感情比她预想的要难对付。"你还没听到我要告诉你的事呢，坐下来听我说。
　　我真想把这事处理妥当，使你幸福，"她说。她希望和他讲点道理，以此抚慰他，结果证明她对爱情一无所知。
　　从乔刚才的这番话，劳里看到了一线希望。他一屁股坐在了草地上乔的脚边，胳膊支在篱笆的下层台阶上，带着期待的神色抬头看着乔。对乔来说，这样的姿态安排使她不能平静地说话，清楚地思考。他这样看着她，眼神里充满爱意与渴求，睫毛还是濡湿的，那是由于她的狠心话使他痛苦地流了几滴泪造成的。在这样的情景中，她怎么能对她的男孩说绝情话呢？她轻轻地把他的头转过去，一边抚弄着他那卷曲的头发，一边说着话。他的头发是为她的缘故蓄养的--确实，那多么令人感动！--"我赞同妈妈的看法，我俩不合适，因为我们的急躁脾气和坚强个性可能会使我们非常痛苦，要是我们愚蠢到要--"乔在最后一个词上停顿了一会儿，但是劳里狂喜地说了出来。
　　"结婚--不，我们不会痛苦的！只要你爱我，乔，我会成为一个完美的圣人，因为你想把我变成啥样都行。""不，我做不到。我试过，但是失败了。我不会用我们的幸福来冒险，做这种认真的试验。我们的意见不一致，永远也不会一致。所以我们一生都将是好朋友，而不要去做任何鲁莽的事。""不，如果有机会我们就要做，"劳里顽固地咕哝着。
　　"好了，理智些，明智地看待这件事吧，"乔恳求道。她几乎一筹莫展了。
　　"我不会理智的，我不要你说的那种明智的看法，它对我没用，只能使你心更狠。我相信你没有任何感情。""我倒希望没有。"乔的声音有点儿发颤了。劳里把这看作一个好的兆头，他转过身来，使出他所有的说服力，用从来没有过的极有感染力的哄人腔调说："别让我们失望了，亲爱的！大家都期待着这件事，爷爷下了决心要这样，你家人也喜欢，我没有你不行。说你愿意，让我们幸福，说吧，说吧！"几个月之后乔才懂得她下了多大决心才坚持住她作出的决定：她认定她不爱她的男孩，永远不会。这样说很难，但是她还是说了。她知道延续既无用也残酷。
　　"我不能真心地说'愿意'，那我就根本不说。以后你会明白我是对的。你会为此感谢我--"她严肃地说。
　　"我死也不会的！"劳里从草地上一跃而起，单单一想到这些他就怒火中烧。
　　"会的，你会的，"乔坚持道，"过一段时间你就会从这件事中恢复过来，找到一个有教养的可爱姑娘，她会崇拜你，成为你漂亮的房子里优秀的女主人。可我不会，我不漂亮，笨手笨脚，又古怪又老，你会为我感到难为情。我们还会吵架--你看，甚至现在我们都忍不住要吵--我不喜欢优雅的社会而你喜欢，你会讨厌我乱写乱画，而我没这些不能过。我们会感到不幸福，会希望我们没这样做。一切都会令人不敢想象！""还有没有了？"劳里问。他感到很难耐心地听完她预言似的这番话。
　　"没了。还有就是，我想我以后不会结婚的。我这样很幸福，我太爱自由了，不会匆忙地为任何一个凡人放弃它。""我知道得更清楚，"劳里插话了，"现在你是这样想的。
　　但是有那么一天你会爱上某个人的。你会狂热地爱她，为他生，为他死。我知道你会的，那是你的方式，而我却不得不在一边旁观。"那绝望的情人把帽子扔到了地上，若不是他脸上的表情那么悲哀，扔帽子的手势就会显得很好笑。
　　"是的，我会为他生，为他死的，只要他来到我身边，让我情不自禁地爱上他。你必须尽力解脱！"乔叫了出来。她已经对可怜的特迪失去了耐心。"我已经尽了力，可是你不愿放理智些。你这样缠着我索取我不能给你的东西，太自私了。我将永远喜欢你，作为朋友，真的，非常喜欢。但是，我永远不会和你结婚。你相信得越早，对我们两人就越好--就这样了！"这一番话就像是火燃着了炸药。劳里看了她一会，仿佛不知道自己该怎么做，然后，猛地转过身，用一种决绝的语调说："你有一天会后悔的，乔。""噢，你到哪儿去？"她叫了起来。他的表情吓坏了她。
　　"去见鬼！"回答让人放心。
　　看着他摇晃着走下河岸朝小河走去，乔的心脏有一会儿停止了跳动。然而，只有做下很大的蠢事，犯了大罪，或者遭受了很深的痛苦，才会使一个年轻人轻生。劳里不是那种一次失败就能击垮的弱者。他没打算作惊人之举，跳入河中，但是盲目的本能冲动使他将帽子和外衣扔进他的小船里，然后拼命划着船走了。他划船的速度超过了许多次比赛的划速。
　　乔注视着这可怜的家伙，他在力图摆脱心头的烦恼。乔长长地舒了口气，松开了双手。
　　"那样对他会有好处的。他回到家时，会处于一种敏感、懊悔的情绪中，我倒不敢见他了，"她想。她慢慢地往家走，感到她像是屠杀了某种无辜的东西，然后将之埋在了树叶下面。她又接着想道："现在我得去找劳伦斯先生，让他非常和善地对待我可怜的男孩。我希望他会爱上贝思，也许以后他会的。然而我又想是不是我误解了她。哦，天哪！女孩子们怎么能又要情人又拒绝他们。这真是太狠心了。"她确信这件事除了她自己没有人能做得更好，因此她直接去找了劳伦斯先生，勇敢地把这难以出口的事情经过告诉了他。然后她垮了，十分沮丧地为她的冷酷无情哭了起来，那和善的老先生虽然也非常失望，却没说一句责备的话。他发现很难理解竟有女孩子不爱劳里，他希望乔会改变主意。但是他比乔更明白，爱是不能强迫的。因此他只是悲哀地摇着头。他决心要让他的孩子远离伤害，因为毛头小伙子和乔分别时说的话使他大为不安，尽管他不愿承认这点。
　　劳里回到家时，精疲力尽但是相当镇静。爷爷像是没事儿似地迎着他，有一两个小时，爷爷非常成功地保持着这种状况。黄昏时爷孙俩坐到了一起。过去他们特别珍惜这段时间，但是现在老人很难做到像往常一样闲聊，而年轻人就更难倾听老人表扬他去年获得的成功。那次成功现在对他来说似乎是爱的徒劳。他尽力忍受着，后来走到钢琴房开始弹奏。
　　窗户是开着的。乔和贝思在花园散步，唯有这一次，她对音乐比妹妹理解得更好。劳里弹着《悲怆奏鸣曲》，他以前从来没有像这样弹过。
　　"弹得非常好，我敢说。但是太悲哀了使人想哭。小伙子，给我们弹个快乐些的，"劳伦斯先生说。和善的老人心中充满同情，他很想表达出来，可是又不知道怎样表达。
　　劳里弹起了一段欢快些的曲子，他猛烈地弹了几分钟，要不是在一个短暂的间歇听到了马奇太太的声音，他会毅然弹完曲子的。马奇太太叫着："乔，亲爱的，进来，我需要你。"这正是劳里极想说的话，只是含义不同！他听着，曲子不知弹到哪儿去了，音乐也带着不和谐音停止了。音乐家静静地坐在黑暗里。
　　"我受不了了，"老人咕哝着。他站起来，摸索着走到钢琴房，慈善地将手放在劳里宽阔的双肩上，像妇人那样亲切地说："我知道，孩子，我知道。"劳里一时没答腔，然后高声问："谁告诉你的？""乔，她自己。""那就完了！"他不耐烦地抖掉爷爷放在他肩上的手。尽管他感激爷爷的同情，但他男子汉的自尊心使他不能忍受来自男人的怜悯。
　　"还没完。我要说一件事，然后事情就完了，"劳伦斯先生带着非同寻常的温和口气回答，"你现在也许不愿意呆在家里吧？""我不打算从一个姑娘面前逃开。乔挡不住我去见她。我愿意呆多久就呆多久，"劳里以挑衅的口气回答。
　　"如果你像我认为的那样是个绅士，就不会这么做了。我也感到失望，可是那姑娘没办法。你唯一能做的就是离开一段时间。你打算到哪里去呢？""哪儿都行。我对什么都无所谓了。"劳里满不在乎地笑着站了起来，笑声刺耳，使老人焦虑不安。
　　"要像个男子汉似地接受这件事，看在上帝的分上，别做鲁莽事。为什么不按你的计划去国外，忘掉这一切呢？""我做不到。""可是你一直很想去的，我答应过你，等读完大学让你去的。""噢，但是我没打算单独一人去！"劳里说。他在屋子里很快地走来走去，脸上的表情爷爷从未见过。
　　"我没让你一个人去，有个人乐意和你一起去世界上任何地方。""谁，先生？"他停步倾听。
　　"我自己。"
　　劳里像刚才一样快速地走了起来。他伸出手，粗声粗气地说："我是个自私、残忍的人，可是--你知道--爷爷--""上帝保佑，是的，我的确知道。这一切我以前都经历过，先是我年轻时，后是你父亲的事。好了，我亲爱的孩子，静静地坐下来听听我的计划。一切都已安排好，马上就能执行，"劳伦斯先生说。他抓住年轻人，好像害怕他会逃走，像他父亲以前做的那样。
　　"那么，先生，什么计划？"劳里坐了下来，他的表情和声音都没显露出任何兴趣。
　　"我在伦敦的业务需要料理。我原打算让你去处理的，不过我自己办更好。这里的事有布鲁克负责，会进行得很好。我的合作者几乎干了所有的事，我只是守着这个位子等你来接替，我随时都可以离开了。""可是，爷爷，你讨厌旅行。您那么大年纪了，我不能这么要求您，"劳里开口说。他感激爷爷作出的牺牲，但是如果要去的话，他宁愿独自去。
　　老先生对这一点非常了解，他特别想阻止他一人去，因为，他发现孙子的心境不佳，这使他确信让劳里自行其是不太明智。一想到出门会丢弃家庭的舒适自然感到遗憾，可是老先生抑制了这种遗憾，决然地说："谢天谢地，我还没老到该淘汰的地步。我很喜欢这个想法。那对我有好处。我的老骨头不会受罪，因为现在的旅行几乎就像坐在椅子里一样舒服。"劳里不安地扭动着，使人想到他坐的椅子不舒服，也就是说他不喜欢这个计划。这使老人赶忙补充道："我并不想成为好事者或者负担。我以为，我去了你会感到比丢下我要快乐些。我不打算和你一起闲聊，而是由你高兴，愿去哪就去哪，我以我的方式自我消遣。我在伦敦和巴黎都有朋友，我想去拜访他们。同时，你可以去意大利、德国、瑞士，去你想去的地方，尽情欣赏绘画、音乐、风景以及冒险活动。"当时，劳里感到他的心完全碎了，整个世界成了野兽咆哮的荒野。可是一听到老先生在最后一句话里巧妙地夹进去的字眼，碎了的心出乎意料地跳动起来，一两块绿洲也出现在那野兽咆哮的荒野。他叹了口气，无精打采地说："就照你说的做吧，先生，我去哪里、做什么都没关系。""对我却有关系。记住这一点，孩子。我给你充分的自由，我相信你会老老实实地利用它的，答应我，劳里。""你要我怎样就怎样，先生。""好的，"老先生想，"现在你不在乎，可是有一天这个保证可以阻止你淘气的。不然我就大错特错了。"劳伦斯先生是个精力充沛的人，他趁热打铁，没等到这个失恋者恢复足够的精神来反抗，他们已上了路。在必要的准备期间，劳里的举止和处于这种情况下的年轻人通常所表现的一样，他一会儿郁郁不乐，一会儿恼怒，一会儿又陷入沉思。他食欲不振，不修边幅。他花很长时间在钢琴上狂暴地弹着。他躲着乔，但是却神色悲哀地从窗后盯着她聊以自慰。乔夜里常梦见那张悲哀的面孔，到了白天，那张脸压迫着她，使她产生了沉重的负疚感。不像一些遭受痛苦的人，他从不说起他的单恋，他不允许任何人，甚至马奇太太尝试安慰他或者表示同情。由于一些原因，这使他的朋友们感到宽慰。但是，他出发前的几个星期非常令人不好受。"那可怜的人儿要离开去忘掉烦恼，回家时会快乐起来的。"每个人都为此感到高兴。自然，他带着可怜的傲慢态度对他们的幻想一笑置之。他知道他的忠诚就像他的爱，是不会变更的。
　　离别之时到来了，他装作兴高采烈，以掩盖某种扰人的情绪，这种情绪似乎有要表现出来的势头。他装出来的欢乐劲并没有感染任何人，但是为了他的缘故，大家都试着做出受感染的样子。他做得很好，后来马奇太太来吻了他，低低说了句什么，话语中充满母亲式的关怀。他觉得很快就要走了，便匆匆拥抱了身边所有的人，连忧伤的罕娜嬷嬷也没忘掉。然后他逃命般地跑下楼去。一分钟后乔随后跟了下来，她打算要是他回头就向他挥手。他真的回头了，他走回来，拥抱她。她站在他上面的一级楼梯，他向上看着他，脸上的神情使他简短的恳求既有说服力，又打动人。
　　"哦，乔，难道你不能？"
　　"特迪，亲爱的，我真希望能。"
　　就这两句话，停顿了一小会，然后劳里站直身，说道："好的，别在意。"他什么也没再说就走了。哦，事情并不好，乔也确实在意，因为在她作出无情的回答后，劳里的鬈发脑袋在她臂上埋了一会。她感到好像戳了她最亲爱的朋友一刀。
　　而当他离开她不再回头看时，她知道男孩子劳里是不会再回来的了。

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一二三四五六七~~~

举报只看该作者 37楼发表于: 2013-10-25 0

Chapter Thirty-six Beth’S Secret

When Jo came home that spring, she had been struck with the change in Beth. No one spoke of it or seemed aware of it, for it had come too gradually to startle those who saw her daily, but to eyes sharpened by absence, it was very plain and a heavy weight fell on Jo's heart as she saw her sister's face. It was no paler and but littler thinner than in the autumn, yet there was a strange, transparent look about it, as if the mortal was being slowly refined away, and the immortal shining through the frail flesh with an indescribably pathetic beauty. Jo saw and felt it, but said nothing at the time, and soon the first impression lost much of its power, for Beth seemed happy, no one appeared to doubt that she was better, and presently in other cares Jo fora time forgot her fear.
But when Laurie was gone, and peace prevailed again, the vague anxiety returned and haunted her. She had confessed her sins and been forgiven, but when she showed her savings and proposed a mountain trip, Beth had thanked her heartily, but begged not to go so far away from home. Another little visit to the seashore would suit her better, and as Grandma could not be prevailed upon to leave the babies, Jo took Beth down to the quiet place, where she could live much in the open air, and let the fresh sea breezes blow a little color into her pale cheeks.
It was not a fashionable place, but even among the pleasant people there, the girls made few friends, preferring to live for one another. Beth was too shy to enjoy society, and Jo too wrapped up in her to care for anyone else. So they were all in all to each other, and came and went, quite unconscious of the interest they exited in those about them, who watched with sympathetic eyes the strong sister and the feeble one, always together, as if they felt instinctively that a long separation was not far away.
They did feel it, yet neither spoke of it, for often between ourselves and those nearest and dearest to us there exists a reserve which it is very hard to overcome. Jo felt as if a veil had fallen between her heart and Beth's, but when she put out her hand to lift it up, there seemed something sacred in the silence, and she waited for Beth to speak. She wondered, and was thankful also, that her parents did not seem to see what she saw, and during the quiet weeks when the shadows grew so plain to her, she said nothing of it to those at home, believing that it would tell itself when Beth came back no better. She wondered still more if her sister really guessed the hard truth, and what thoughts were passing through her mind during the long hours when she lay on the warm rocks with her head in Jo's lap, while the winds blew healthfully over her and the sea made music at her feet.
One day Beth told her. Jo thought she was asleep, she lay so still, and putting down her book, sat looking at her with wistful eyes, trying to see signs of hope in the faint color on Beth's cheeks. But she could not find enough to satisfy her, for the cheeks were very thin, and the hands seemed too feeble to hold even the rosy little shells they had been collecting. It came to her then more bitterly than ever that Beth was slowly drifting away form her, and her arms instinctively tightened their hold upon the dearest treasure she possessed. For a minute her eyes were too dim for seeing, and when they cleared, Beth was looking up at her so tenderly that there was hardly any need for her to say, "Jo, dear, I'm glad you know it. I've tried to tell you, but I couldn't."
There was no answer except her sister's cheek against her own, not even tears, for when most deeply moved, Jo did not cry. She was the weaker then, land Beth tried to comfort and sustain her, with her arms about her and the soothing words she whispered in her ear.
"I've known it for a good while, dear, and now I'm used to it, it isn't hard to think of or to bear. Try to see it so and don't be troubled about me, because it's best, indeed it is."
"Is this what made you so unhappy in the autumn, Beth? You did not feel it then, land keep it to yourself so long, did you?" asked Jo, refusing to see or say that it was best, but glad to know that Laurie had no part in Beth's trouble.
"Yes, I gave up hoping then, but I didn't like to own it. I tried to think it was a sick fancy, and would not let it trouble anyone. But when I saw you all so well and strong and full of happy plans, it was hard to feel that I could never be like you, and then I was miserable, Jo."
"Oh, Beth, and you didn't tell me, didn't let me comfort and help you? How could you shut me out, bear it all alone?"
Jo's voice was full of tender reproach, and her heart ached to think of the solitary struggle that must have gone on while Beth learned to say goodbye to health, love, and live, and take up her cross so cheerfully.
"Perhaps it was wrong, but I tried to do right. I wasn't sure, no one said anything, and I hoped I was mistaken. It would have
been selfish to frighten you all when Marmee was so anxious about Meg, and Amy away, and you so happy with Laurie--at least I thought so then."
"And I thought you loved him, Beth, and I went away because I couldn't," cried Jo, glad to say all the truth.
Beth looked so amazed at the idea that Jo smiled in spite of her pain, and added softly, "Then you didn't, dearie? I was afraid it was so, and imagined your poor little heart full of lovelornity all that while."
"Why, Jo, how could I, when he was so fond of you?" asked Beth, as innocently as a child. "I do love him dearly. He is so good to me, how can I help It? But he could never be anything to me but my brother. I hope he truly will be, sometime."
"Not through me," said Jo decidedly. "Amy is left for him, and they would suit excellently, but I have no heart for such things, now. I don't care what becomes of anybody but you, Beth. You must get well."
"I want to, oh, so much! I try, but every day I lose a little, and feel more sure that I shall never gain it back. It's like the tide, Jo, when it turns, it goes slowly, but it can't be stopped.."
"It shall be stopped, your tide must not turn so soon, nineteen is too young, Beth. I can't let you go. I'll work and pray and fight against it. I'll keep you in spite of everything. There must be ways, it can't be too late. God won't be so cruel as to take you from me," cried poor Jo rebelliously, for her spirit was far less piously submissive than Beth's.
Simple, sincere people seldom speak much of their piety. It shows itself in acts rather than in words, and has more influence than homilies or protestations. Beth could not reason upon or explain the faith that gave her courage and patience to give up life, and cheerfully wait for death. Like a confiding child, she asked no questions, but left everything to God and nature, Father and Mother of us all, feeling sure that they, and they only, could teach and strengthen heart and spirit for this life and the life to come. She did not rebuke Jo with saintly speeches, only loved her better for her passionate affection, and clung more closely to the dear human love, from which our Father never means us to be weaned, but through which He draws us closer to Himself. She could not say, "I'm glad to go," for life was very sweet for her. She could only sob out, "I try to be willing,"while she held fast to Jo, as the first bitter wave of this great sorrow broke over them together.
By and by Beth said, with recovered serenity, "You'll tell them this when we go home?"
"I think they will see it without words," sighed Jo, for now it seemed to her that Beth changed every day.
"Perhaps not. I've heard that the people who love best are often blindest to such things. If they don't see it, you will tell them for me. I don't want any secrets, and it's kinder to prepare them. Meg has John and the babies to comfort her, but you must stand by Father and Mother, won't you Jo?"
"If I can. But, Beth, I don't give up yet. I'm going to believe that it is a sick fancy, and not let you think it's true." said Jo, trying to speak cheerfully.
Beth lay a minute thinking, and then said in her quiet way, "I don't know how to express myself, and shouldn't try to anyone but you, because I can't speak out except to my Jo. I only mean to say that I have a feeling that it never was intended I should live long. I'm not like the rest of you. I never made any plans about what I'd do when I grew up. I never thought of being married, as you all did. I couldn't seem to imagine myself anything but stupid little Beth, trotting about at home, of no use anywhere but there. I never wanted to go away, and the hard part now is the leaving you all. I'm not afraid, but it seems as if I should be homesick for you even in heaven."
Jo could not speak, and for several minutes there was no sound but the sigh of the wind and the lapping of the tide. A white-winged gull flew by, with the flash of sunshine on its silvery breast. Beth watched it till it vanished, and her eyes were full of sadness. A little gray-coated sand bird came tripping over the beach `peeping' softly to itself, as if enjoying the sun and sea. It came quite close to Beth, and looked at her with a friendly eye and sat upon a warm stone, dressing its wet feathers, quite at home. Beth smiled and felt comforted, for the tiny thing seemed to offer its small friendship and remind her that a pleasant world was still to be enjoyed.
"Dear little bird! See, Jo, how tame it is. I like peeps better than the gulls. They are not so wild and handsome, but they seem happy, confiding little things. I used to call them my birds last summer, and Mother said they reminded her of me --busy, quaker-colored creatures, always near the shore, and always chirping that contented little song of theirs. You are the gull, Jo, strong and wild, fond of the storm and the wind, flying far out to sea, and happy all alone. Meg is the turtledove, and Amy is like the lark she write about, trying to get up among the clouds, but always dropping down into its nest again. Dear little girl! She's so ambitious, but her heart is good and tender, and no matter how high she flies, she never will forget home. I hope I shall see her again, but she seems so far away."
"She is coming in the spring, and I mean that you shall be all ready to see and enjoy her. I'm going to have you well and rosy by that time." began Jo, feeling that of all the changes in Beth, the talking change was the greatest, for it seemed to cost no effort now, and she thought aloud in a way quite unlike bashful Beth.
"Jo, dear, don't hope any more. It won't do any good. I'm sure of that. We won't be miserable, but enjoy being together while we wait. We'll have happy times, for I don't suffer much, and I think the tide will go out easily, if you help me."
Jo leaned down to kiss the tranquil face, and with that silent kiss, she dedicated herself soul and body to Beth.
She was right. There was no need of any words when they got home, for Father and Mother saw plainly now what they had prayed to be saved from seeing. Tired with her short journey, Beth went at once to bed, saying how glad she was to be home, and when Jo went down, she found that she would be spared the hard task of telling Beth's secret. Her father stood leaning his head on the mantelpiece and did not turn as she came in, but her mother stretched out her arms as if for help, and Jo went to comfort her without a word.

第三十六章贝思的秘密

　　那个春天乔回到家时，贝思身上的变化使她大吃一惊。没有人说起，似乎也没有人意识到，因为变化是渐渐的，每天看到她的人不会吃惊。而出门在外能使人眼睛锐利起来。乔看着妹妹的脸，心头沉甸甸的，妹妹的变化显而易见，她的脸和秋天时一样苍白，而又瘦削了些。然而她脸上有一种奇怪而透彻的神色，好像凡人的东西给慢慢地提炼完了，而神的东西照耀着那脆弱的肉体，赋予它一种无法描述的悲壮之美。乔看着这张脸感到了这一点，但是当时她没说什么。很快地，第一眼印象失去了效力，因为贝思似乎很快乐，没有人表示对她身体好转有怀疑。不久，乔陷于别的烦心事里，暂时忘记了她的忧虑。
　　然而劳里走后，家里又安宁下来。那种模模糊糊的忧虑又袭上她的心头，挥之不去。她向家里人认了罪，也得到了宽耍但是，当她拿出存款提出去山间旅行时，贝思衷心地感激她，却请求不要到离家那么远的地方去，再去海边小住会更适合她。正如奶奶无论如何丢不下孩子，乔带着贝思去了那个安静的地方。在那里贝思可以在户外呆很长时间，让鲜艳的海风往她苍白的面颊抹上一点颜色。
　　那不是个时髦去处，可是即便在那里身处令人愉快的人群之中，姐妹俩也几乎没有与谁交朋友，她们宁愿两人独处。
　　贝思太腼腆，不爱社交，乔太专注于她，也就不在乎任何别的人。因此，她们俩独来独往，形影不离，根本没意识到她俩激起了身边人们的兴趣。他们以同情的目光注视着强健的姐姐和虚弱的妹妹，她们总是在一起，仿佛本能地感觉到她们永久的分离为期不远了。
　　她们确实感觉到了这一点，但是谁也不提起，因为在我们与最亲近的人们之间，经常存在着难以打破的隔阂。乔感到她和贝思之间落下了一道帷幕，可是，在她伸手去揭开帷幕时，似乎在静默中又有某种神圣的东西。于是，她等待贝思先说出来。她看出来的事情她的父母似乎毫无觉察，她感到奇怪，同时也感到欣慰。在那安静的几个星期里，阴影越来越明显了，她对留在家里的人只字未提。她相信贝思回家时情况不会好转，那本身就能说明问题。她更想知道妹妹是否猜到了这个严酷的真相。贝思躺在温暖的岩石上，头枕着乔的膝，有益健康的海风吹拂着她，脚下大海弹着奏鸣曲。在每天这长长的几个小时里，贝思脑子里在想着什么呢？
　　一天贝思告诉了她。她那样静静地躺着，乔以为她睡着了。她放下书，忧郁地看着贝思，想从那脸颊的淡晕中找到希望的迹象。可是她找不到足以令她满意的东西：脸颊非常瘦削，双手似乎太虚弱了，甚至拿不住她们搜来的粉红色小贝壳。当时，她异常痛苦地想到，贝思正慢慢地离她而去。她的手臂不由自主地抱紧了她所拥有的最亲爱的宝贝。有一会儿，她的眼睛潮湿了，看不见东西了。待眼睛再能看清楚时，贝思正抬头看着她。贝思的目光那样温柔，没有必要再说什么了。"乔，亲爱的，很高兴你知道了，我试图告诉你，可是我不能。"没有回答。姐妹俩只是脸贴着脸，甚至没有眼泪，因为，受到最深的感动时，乔是不会哭的。当时，乔成了弱者，贝思试着安慰她，支撑她。贝思双手搂着她，在她耳边低声说着安慰的话。
　　"我已经知道很长时间了，亲爱的。现在我已习惯，想起这件事，或者忍受它已不是难做的事了。你也试着这样，别为我烦恼了。这样最好，真的最好。""秋天里是这件事让你那样不开心吗，贝思？你不会是那时就有感觉，并且独自承受了这么长时间吧，对吗？"乔问，她不愿看到也不愿说那样最好，但知道了贝思的烦恼没有劳里的份，她心里感到高兴。
　　"是的，那时我放弃了希望，但却不愿承认。我试想那是一种病态的想象，不愿用它去烦扰任何人。当我看到你们都那么健康、强壮，充满了幸福的向往时，我感到我根本不可能像你们那样，真是难过。当时，我很悲哀，乔。""哦，贝思，你那时没告诉我，没让我安慰你、帮助你！
　　你怎么能把我排除在外，独自承受这一切呢？"乔的声音里充满了温柔的责备。贝思试着向健康、爱情、生命道别时，试着那样愉快地接受她的不幸时，内心肯定经过一番斗争。而这种斗争是独个儿进行的，想到这里，乔的心都痛了。
　　"也许我那样做不对，可是，我是想做对的。我不能确定，对谁也没说什么，我希望我想错了。可那时我要是吓坏你们大家，我就太自私了。妈妈那样牵挂着梅格，艾美出门在外，你和劳里那么幸福--至少，我那时是这样认为的。""可我还以为你在爱着劳里呢，贝思。我离开了是因为我不能爱他，"乔叫着，高兴地说出了事情的全部真相。
　　贝思听了这话大为惊奇，乔尽管痛苦还是不由地笑了起来，她轻轻地接着说："那么你不爱他，宝贝？我担心你爱他，想象着你那可怜的小小心灵那段时间里承受着失恋的痛苦。""哎唷，乔，他那么喜欢你，我怎么能那样？"贝思像孩子般地天真。"我的确深爱着他，他对我那么好，我怎能不爱他呢？但是，他除了做我的哥哥，根本不可能做别的。我希望有一天他真的成为我的哥哥。""不是通过我，"乔决然说道，"艾美留给他了，他们俩会非常般配。可是我现在没心思谈这种事情。别人发生什么事我不管，我只在乎你，贝思，你必须好起来。""我想好起来，哦，真想！我努力着，可是每天我都在衰弱，我越来越确信我的健康再也恢复不了了。就像潮汐，乔，当它转向退潮时，尽管是渐渐减退，却不可阻挡。""它将被阻挡住，你的潮汐不能这么快就退。贝思，十九岁太年轻了，我不能放走你。我要工作、祈祷，和它作斗争。
　　无论如何我要保住你。肯定有办法，不会太迟的。上帝不会这么残酷，把你从我身边夺走，"可怜的乔反抗地叫着，她的精神远远不及贝思那样虔诚顺从。
　　纯洁诚挚的人们极少奢谈虔诚，行动能说明一切而不是言语，而且行动比说教或声明更具影响力。贝思无法论证或解释她的信念，这个信念给了她放弃生命的勇气与耐心，使她能快乐地等待死亡。她像一个轻信的孩子，不提问题，而是将一切交付上帝与大自然--我们大家的父亲和母亲。她确信只有他们才能开导人，使人精神振作地面对今生和来世。
　　她没有用圣人般的话语责备乔，而是为她炽热的情感更加爱她了，她更加紧紧地拥抱这种可贵的人类之爱。上帝从不打算让我们断绝这种爱。通过它我们被吸引得离他更近了。她不能说："我乐意离开这个世界。"因为生命对她来说是非常甜美的；她只能抽泣着说："我努力做到愿意离开。"她紧紧地抱着乔，第一次，这种巨大痛苦的浪头吞没了姐妹俩。
　　过了一会儿，贝思恢复了平静，她说："我们回家时，你来告诉他们这件事？""我想，不用说他们就能看出来了，"乔叹道。现在她似乎看到贝思每天都在变。
　　"也许看不出。我听说深爱着的人们对这种事最盲目。要是他们没看出，你就替我告诉他们。我不想有秘密，让他们作好准备更仁慈些。梅格有约翰和两个孩子安慰她，而你必须帮助爸爸妈妈，好不好，乔？""如果我行的话。但是，贝思，我还没有放弃希望。我要相信这确实是一种病态的想象，我不要你认为那是真的。"乔试图用一种轻松的语调说出这些。
　　贝思躺着想了一会儿，然后像往常一样安静地说："我不知道该怎样表达我的意思。除了你，我也不会再向别人说什么。因为，除了对我的乔，我不能说出心里话。我只是想说，我有种感觉，上帝从来就没有打算让我活长。我不像你们起余的人，我从来不做长大了干什么的计划，我也从没像你们大家那样想过结婚。我似乎想象不出我能做什么，我只是愚笨的小贝思，在家里跑跑跳跳，除了在家，在哪里都没用。我从来不想离家，现在离开你们大家心中分外难受。我不害怕，但是好像即使人在天堂，我也会想家想你们的。"乔说不出话来了。好几分钟的沉默，只听见风的叹息和海浪的拍击声。一只白翼海鸥飞过去了，它的银色胸脯涂着一抹阳光。贝思注视着直到它消失，她的眼睛里充满了悲哀。
　　一只羽毛灰黄色的小鸟飞过来在海滩上轻轻跳跃着，它啾啾地叫着，好像在欣赏太阳与大海。它飞到贝思近旁，友好地看着她，然后停在一块暖和的石头上，神态自如地梳理着潮湿的羽毛。贝思笑了，她感到了安慰。因为这小东西似乎在向她表示友好，使她想起她仍然能够享受愉快的人生。
　　"可爱的小鸟！看，乔，它多么温顺。比起海鸥，我更喜欢小鸟。它们不那么野性，也不那么漂亮，但是它们似乎是快乐天真的小东西。去年夏天我总是称它们我的鸟儿们。妈妈说它们让她想起了我--那些棕色的小鸟，总是贴近海岸，总是唧唧啾啾唱着心满意足的小调。乔，你像是海鸥：强舰难以约束、喜欢狂风暴雨，远远飞向大海，自得其乐。梅格像是斑鸠。而艾美就像她描述的云雀，想在云雾中飞行，又总是飞落回小巢。可爱的小姑娘！她抱负那么大，心眼却善良温柔。不管她飞得多么高，她决不会忘记家的。我希望能再见到她，她似乎离我们那么远。""她春天回来。我是说你要准备好见她，享受会面时的快乐。到那时我要让你身体健康，面色红润，"乔说。她感到贝思所有的变化中，言谈的变化最大。她现在说话好像不怎么费劲了，自言自语，全然不像以前那样害羞了。
　　"乔，亲爱的，别再那么希望了，没有用处，我肯定。我们不要痛苦，而要在等待中享受在一起的快乐。我们会过得快乐的，我不太难受。我想你要是帮助我，我的浪潮会容易地退走的。"乔弯下头来亲吻那张平静的脸，用那默默的一吻，乔将自己整个身心都交付给了贝思。
　　她是对的：她们回到家时没必要说什么，因为爸爸妈妈现在清楚地看到了他们一直祈祷着不要见到的东西。短暂的旅途使贝思感到了疲倦，她立刻上了床，说她回到家那么高兴。乔下楼来时，发现她已不用做那件艰难的工作了，也就是不用讲述贝思的秘密。爸爸站在那，头靠在壁炉架上，乔进去他也没回头；可是妈妈向她伸出了胳膊像是恳求帮助。乔走过来，默默无声地安慰着她。

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一二三四五六七~~~

举报只看该作者 38楼发表于: 2013-10-25 0

Chapter Thirty-seven New Impressions

At three o'clock in the afternoon, all the fashionable world at Nice may be seen on the Promenade des Anglais--a charming place, for the wide walk, bordered with palms, flowers, and tropical shrubs, is bounded on one side by the sea, on the other by the grand drive, lined with hotels and villas, while beyond lie orange orchards and the hills. Many nations are represented, many languages spoken, many costumes worn, and on a sunny day the spectacle is as gay and brilliant as a carnival. Haughty English, lively French, sober Germans, handsome Spaniards, ugly Russians, meek Jews, free-and-easy Americans, all drive, sit, or saunter here, chatting over the news, and criticzing the latest celebrity who has arrived--Ristori or Dickens, Victor Emmanuel or the Queen of the Sandwich Islands. The equipages are as varied as the company and attract as much attention, especially the low basket barouches in which ladies drive themselves, with a pair of dashing ponies, gay nets to keep their voluminous flounces from overflowing the diminutive vehicles, and little grooms on the perch behind.
Along this walk, on Christmas Day, a tall young man walked slowly, with his hands behind him, and a somewhat absent expression of countenance. He looked like an Italian, was dressed like an Englishman, and had the independent air of an American--a combination which caused sundry pairs of feminine eyes to look approvingly after him, and sundry dandies in black velvet suits, with rose-colored neckties, buff gloves, and orange flowers in their buttonholes, to shrug their shoulders, and then envy him his inches. There were plenty of pretty faces to admire, but the young man took little notice of them, except to glance now and then at some blonde girl in blue. Presently he strolled out of the promenade and stood a moment at the crossing, as if undecided whether to go and listen to the band in the Jardin Publique, or to wander along the beach toward Castle Hill. The quick trot of ponies feet made him look up, as one of the little carriages, containing a single young lady, came rapidly down the street. The lady was young, blonde, and dressed in blue. He stared a minute, then his whole face woke up, and, waving his hat like a boy, he hurried forward to meet her.
"Oh, Laurie, is it really you? I thought you'd never come!" cried Amy, dropping the reins and holding out both hands, to the great scandalization of a French mamma, who hastened her daughter's steps, lest she should be demoralized by beholding the free manners of these `mad English'.
"I was detained by the way, but I promised to spend Christmas with you, and here I am."
"How is your grandfather? When did you come? Where are you staying?"
"Very well--last night--at the Chauvain. I called at your hotel, but you were out."
"I have so much to say, I don't know where to begin! Get in and we can talk at our ease. I was going for a drive and longing for company. Flo's saving up for tonight."
"What happens then, a ball?"
"A Christmas party at out hotel. There are many Americans there, and they give it in honor of the day. You'll go with us, of course? Aunt will be charmed."
"Thank you. Where now?" asked Laurie, leaning back and folding his arms, a proceeding which suited Amy, who preferred to drive, for her parasol whip and blue reins over the white ponies backs afforded her infinite satisfaction.
"I'm going to the bankers first for letters, and then to Castle Hill. The view is so lovely, and I like to feed the peacocks. Have you ever been there?"
"Often, years ago, but I don't mind having a look at it."
"Now tell me all about yourself. The last I heard of you, your grandfather wrote that he expected you from Berlin." "Yes, I spent a month there and then joined him in Paris, where he has settled for the winter. He has friends there and finds plenty to amuse him, so I go and come, and we got on capitally."
"That's a sociable arrangement," said Amy, missing something in Laurie's manner, though she couldn't tell what.
"Why, you see, he hates to travel, and I hate to keep still, so we each suit ourselves, and there is no trouble. I am often with him, and he enjoys my adventures, while I like to feel that someone is glad to see me when I get back from my wanderings. Dirty old hole, isn't it?" he added, with a look of disgust as they drove along the boulevard to the Place Napoleon in the old city.
"The dirt is picturesque, so I don't mind. The river and the hills are delicious, and these glimpses of the narrow cross streets are my delight. Now we shall have to wait for that procession to pass. It's going to the Church of St. John."
While Laurie listlessly watched the procession of priests under their canopies, white-veiled nuns bearing lighted tapers, and some brotherhood in blue chanting as they walked, Amy watched him, and felt a new sort of shyness steal over her, for he was changed, and she could not find the merry-faced boy she left in the moody-looking man beside her. He was handsomer than ever and greatly improved, she thought, but now that the flush of pleasure at meeting her was over, he looked tired and spiritless--not sick, nor exactly unhappy, but older and graver than a year or two of prosperous life should have made him. She couldn't understand it and did not venture to ask questions, so she shook her head and touched up her ponies, as the procession wound away across the arches of the Paglioni bridge and vanished in the church.
"Que pensez-vous?" she said, airing her French, which had improved in quantity, if not in quality, since she came abroad.
"That mademoiselle has made good use of her time, and the result is charming," replied Laurie, bowing with his hand on his heart and an admiring look.
She blushed with pleasure, but somehow the compliment did not satisfy her like the blunt praises he used to give her at home, when he promenaded round her on festival occasions, and tole her she was `altogether jolly', with a hearty smile and an approving pat on the head. She didn't like the new tone, for though not blase, it sounded indifferent in spite of the look.
"If that's the way he's going to grow up, I wish he's stay a boy," she thought, with a curious sense of disappointment and discomfort, trying meantime to seem quite easy and gay.
At Avigdor's she found the precious home letters and, giving the reins to Laurie, read them luxuriously as they wound up the shady road between green hedges, where tea roses bloomed as freshly as in June.
"Beth is very poorly, Mother says. I often think I ought to go home, but they all say `stay'. So I do, for I shall never have another chance like this," said Amy, looking sober over one page.
"I think you are right, there. You could do nothing at home, and it is a great comfort to them to know that you are well and happy, and enjoying so much, my dear."
He drew a little nearer, and looked more like his old self as he said that, and the fear that sometimes weighed on Amy's heart was lightened, for the look, the act, the brotherly `my dear', seemed to assure her that if any trouble did come, she would not be alone in a strange land. Presently she laughed and showed him a small sketch of Jo in her scribbling suit, with the bow rampantly erect upon her cap, and issuing from her mouth the words, `Genius burns!'.
Laurie smiled, took it, put it in his vest pocket `to keep it from blowing away', and listened with interest to the lively letter Amy read him.
"This will be a regularly merry Christmas to me, with presents in the morning, you and letters in the afternoon, and a party at night," said Amy, as they alighted among the ruins of the old fort, and a flock of splendid peacocks came trooping about them, tamely waiting to be fed. While Amy stood laughing on the bank above him as she scattered crumbs to the brilliant birds, Laurie looked at her as she had looked at him, with a natural curiosity to see what changes time and absence had wrought. He found nothing to perplex or disappoint, much to admire and approve, for overlooking a few little affectations of speech and manner, she was as sprightly and graceful as ever, with the addition of that indescribable something in dress and bearing which we call elegance. Always mature for her age, she had gained a certain aplomb in both carriage and conversation, which made her seem more of a woman of the world than she was, but her old petulance now and then showed itself, her strong will still held its own, and her native frankness was unspoiled by foreign polish.
Laurie did not read all this while he watched her feed the peacocks, but he saw enough to satisfy and interest him, and carried away a pretty little picture of a bright-faced girl standing in the sunshine, which brought out the soft hue of her dress, the fresh color of her cheeks, the golden gloss of her hair, and made her a prominent figure in the pleasant scene.
As they came up onto the stone plateau that crowns the hill, Amy waved her hand as if welcoming him to her favorite haunt, and said, pointing here and there, "Do you remember the Cathedral and the Corso, the fishermen dragging their nets in the bay, and the lovely road to Villa Franca, Schubert's Tower, just below, and best of all, that speck far out to sea which they say ils Corsica?"
"I remember. It's not much changed," he answered without enthusiasm.
"What Jo would give for a sight of that famous speck!" said Amy, feeling in good spirits and anxious to see him so also.
"Yes," was all he said, but he turned and strained his eyes to see the island which a greater usurper than even Napoleon now made interesting in his sight.
"Take a good look at it for her sake, and then come and tell me what you have been doing with yourself all this while," said Amy, seating herself, ready for a good talk.
But she did not get it, for though he joined her and answered all her questions freely, she could only learn that he had roved about the Continent and been to Greece. So after idling away an hour, they drove home again, and having paid his respects to Mrs. Carrol, Laurie left them, promising to return in the evening.
It must be recorded of Amy that she deliberately prinked that night. Time and absence had done its work on both the young people. She had seen her old friend in a new light, not as `our boy', but as a handsome and agreeable man, and she was conscious of a very natural desire to find favor in his sight. Amy knew her good points, and made the most of them with the taste and skill which is a fortune to a poor and pretty woman.
Tarlatan and tulle were cheap at Nice, so she enveloped herself in them on such occasions, and following the sensible English fashion of simple dress for young girls, got up charming little toilettes with fresh flowers, a few trinkets, and all manner of dainty devices, which were both inexpensive and effective. It must be confessed that the artist sometimes got possession of the woman, and indulged in antique coiffures, statuesque attitudes, and classic draperies. But, dear heart, we all have out little weaknesses, and find it easy to pardon such in the young, who satisfy our eyes with their comeliness, and keep our hearts merry with their artless vanities.
"I do want him to think I look well, and tell them so at home," said Amy to herself, as she put on Flo's old white silk ball dress, and covered it with a cloud of fresh illusion, out of which her white shoulders and golden head emerged with a most artistic effect. Her hair she had the sense to let alone, after gathering up the thick waves and curls into a Hebe-like knot at the back of her head.
"It's not the fashion, but it's becoming, and I can't afford to make a fright of myself," she used to say, when advised to frizzle, puff, or braid, as the latest style commanded.
Having no ornaments fine enough for this important occasion, Amy looped her fleecy skirts with rosy clusters of azalea, and framed the white shoulders in delicate green vines. Remembering the painted boots, she surveyed her white satin slippers with girlish satisfaction, and chassed down the room, admiring her aristocratic feet all by herself.
"My new fan just matches my flowers, my gloves fit to a charm, and the real lace on Aunt's mouchoir gives an air to my whole dress. If I only had a classical nose and mouth I should be perfectly happy," she said, surveying herself with a critical eye and a candle in each hand.
In spite of this affliction, she looked unusually gay and graceful as she glided away. She seldom ran--it did not suit her style, she thought, for being tall, the stately and Junoesque was more appropriate than the sportive or piquante. She walked up and down the long saloon while waiting for Laurie, and once arranged herself under the chandelier, which had a good effect upon her hair, then she thought better of it, and went away to the other end of the room, as if ashamed of the girlish desire to have the first view a propitious one. It so happened that she could not have done a better thing, for Laurie came in so quietly she did not hear him, and as she stood at the distant window, with her head half turned and one hand gathering up her dress, the slender, white figure against the red curtains was as effective as a well-placed statue.
"Good evening, Diana!" said Laurie, with the look of satisfaction she liked to see in his eyes when they rested on her.
"Good evening, Apollo!" she answered, smiling back at him, for he too looked unusually debonair, and the thought of entering the ballroom on the arm of such a personable man caused Amy to pity the four plain Misses Davis from the bottom of her heart.
"Here are your flowers. I arranged them myself, remembering that you didn't like what Hannah calls a `sot-bookay', said Laurie, handing her a delicate nosegay, in a holder that she had long coveted as she daily passed it in Cardiglia's window.
"How kind you are!" she exclaimed gratefully. "If I'd known you were coming I'd have had something ready for you today, though not as pretty as this, I'm afraid."
"Thank you. It isn't what it should be, but you have improved it," he added, as she snapped the silver bracelet on her wrist.
"Please don't."
"I thought you liked that sort of thing."
"Not from you, it doesn't sound natural, and I like your old bluntness better."
"I'm glad of it," he answered, with a look of relief, then buttoned her gloves for her, and asked if his tie was straight, just as he used to do when they went to parties together at home.
The company assembled in the long salle a manger that evening was such as one sees nowhere but on the Continent. The hospitable Americans had invited every acquaintance they had in Nice, and having no prejudice against titles, secured a few to add luster to their Christmas ball.
A Russian prince condescended to sit in a corner for an hour and talk with a massive lady, dressed like Hamlet's mother in black velvet with a pearl bridle under her chin. A Polish count, aged eighteen, devoted himself to the ladies, who pronounced him, `a fascinating dear', and a German Serene Something, having come to supper alone, roamed vaguely about, seeking what he might devour. Baron Rothschild's private secretary, a largenosed Jew in tight boots, affably beamed upon the world, as if his master's name crowned him with a golden halo. A stout Frenchman, who knew the Emperor, came to indulge his mania for dancing, and Lady de Jones, a British matron, adorned the scene with her little family of eight. Of course, there were many light-footed, shrill-voiced American girls, handsome, lifeless-looking English ditto, and a few plain but piquante French demoiselles, likewise the usual set of traveling young gentlemen who disported themselves gaily, while mammas of all nations lined the walls and smiled upon them benignly when they danced with their daughters.
Any young girl can imagine Amy's state of mind when she `took the stage' that night, leaning on Laurie's arm. She knew she looked well, she loved to dance, she felt that her foot was on her native heath in a ballroom, and enjoyed the delightful sense of power which comes when young girls first discover the new and lovely kingdom they are born to rule by virtue of beauty, youth, and womanhood. She did pity the Davis girls, who were awkward, plain, and destitute of escort, except a grim papa and three grimmer maiden aunts, and she bowed to them in her friendliest manner as she passed, which was good of her, as it permitted them to see her dress, and burn with curiosity to know who her distinguished-looking friend might be. With the first burst of the band, Amy's color rose, her eyes began to sparkle, and her feet to tap the floor impatiently, for she danced well and wanted Laurie to know it. Therefore the shock she received can better be imagined than described, when he said in a perfectly tranquil tone, "Do you care to dance?"
"One usually does at a ball."
Her amazed look and quick answer caused Laurie to repair his error as fast as possible.
"I meant the first dance. May I have the honor?"
"I can give you one if I put off the Count. He dances devinely, but he will excuse me, as you are an old friend," said Amy, hoping that the name would have a good effect, and show Laurie that she was not to be trifled with. "Nice little boy, but rather a short Pole to support . .. A daughter of the gods, Devinely tall, and most devinely fair,"
was all the satisfaction she got, however.
The set in which they found themselves was composed of English, and Amy was compelled to walk decorously through a cotillion, feeling all the while as if she could dance the tarantella with relish. Laurie resigned her to the `nice little boy', and went to do his duty to Flo, without securing Amy for the joys to come, which reprehensible want of forethought was properly punished, for she immediately engaged herself till supper, meaning to relent if he then gave any signs penitence. She showed him her ball book with demure satisfaction when he strolled instead of rushed up to claim her for the next, a glorious polka redowa. But his polite regrets didn't impose upon her, and when she galloped away with the Count, she saw Laurie sit down by her aunt with an actual expression of relief.
That was unpardonable, and Amy took no more notice of him for a long while, except a word now and then when she came to her chaperon between the dances for a necessary pin or a moment's rest. Her anger had a good effect, however, for she hid it under a smiling face, and seemed unusually blithe and brilliant. Laurie's eyes followed her with pleasure, for she neither romped nor sauntered, but danced with spirit and grace, making the delightsome pastime what it should be. He very naturally fell to studying her from this new point of view, and before the evening was half over, had decided that `little Amy was going to make a very charming woman'.
It was a lively scene, for soon the spirit of the social season took possession of everyone, and Christmas merriment made all faces shine, hearts happy, and heels light. The musicians fiddled, tooted, and banged as if they enjoyed it, everybody danced who could, and those who couldn't admired their neighbors with uncommon warmth. The air was dark with Davises, and many Jones gamboled like a flock of young giraffes. The golden secretary darted through the room like a meteor with a dashing frenchwoman who carped the floor with her pink satin train. The serene Teuton found the supper table and was happy, eating steadily through the bill of fare, and dismayed the garcons by the ravages he committed. But the Emperor's friend covered himself with glory, for he danced everything, whether he knew it or not, and introduced impromptu pirouettes when the figures bewildered him. The boyish abandon of that stout man was charming to behold, for though he `carried weight', he danced like an India-rubber ball. He ran, he flew, he pranced, his face glowed, his bald head shown, his coattails waved wildly, his pumps actually twinkled in the air, and when the music stopped, he wiped the drops from his brow, and beamed upon his fellow men like a French Pickwick without glasses.
Amy and her Pole distinguished themselves by equal enthusiasm but more graceful agility, and Laurie found himself involuntarily keeping time to the rhythmic rise and fall of the white slippers as they flew by as indefatigably as if winged. When little Vladimir finally relinquished her, with assurances that he was `desolated to leave so early', she was ready to rest, and see how her recreant knight had borne his punishment.
It had been successful, for at three-and-twenty, blighted affections find a balm in friendly society, and young nerves will thrill, young blood dance, and healthy young spirits rise, when subjected to the enchantment of beauty, light, music, and motion. Laurie had a waked-up look as he rose to give her his seat, and when he hurried away to bring her some supper, she said to herself, with a satisfied smile, "Ah, I thought that would do him good!"
"You look like Balzac's `FEMME PEINTE PAR ELLE-NENE'," he said, as he fanned her with one hand and held her coffee cup in the other.
"My rouge won't come off." And Amy rubbed her brilliant cheek, and showed him her white glove with a sober simplicity that made him laugh outright.
"What do you call this stuff?" he asked, touching a fold of her dress that had blown over his knee.
"Illusion."
"Good name for it. It's very pretty--new thing, isn't it?"
"It's as old as the hills. You have seen it on dozens of girls, and you never found out that it was pretty till now? Stupide!"
"I never saw it on you before, which accounts for the mistake, you see."
"None of that, it is forbidden. I'd rather take coffee than compliments just now. No, don't lounge, it makes me nervous."
Laurie sat bold upright, and meekly took her empty plate feeling an odd sort of pleasure in having `little Amy' order him about, for she had lost her shyness now, and felt an irrestible desire to trample on him, as girls have a delightful way of doing when lords of creation show any signs of subjection.
"Where did you learn all this sort of thing?" he asked with a quizzical look.
"As `this sort of thing' is rather a vague expression, would you kindly explain?" returned Amy, knowing perfectly well what he meant, but wickedly leaving him to describe what is indescribable.
"Well--the general air, the style, the self-possession, the-- the--illusion--you know", laughed Laurie, breaking down and helping himself out of his quandary with the new word.
Amy was gratified, but of course didn't show it, and demurely answered, "Foreign life polishes one in spite of one's self. I study as well as play, and as for this"--with a little gesture toward her dress--"why, tulle is cheap, posies to be had for nothing, and I am used to making the most of my poor little things."
Amy rather regretted that last sentence, fearing it wasn't in good taste, but Laurie liked her better for it, and found himself both admiring and respecting the brave patience that made the most of opportunity, and the cheerful spirit that covered poverty with flowers. Amy did not know why he looked at her so kindly, now why he filled up her book with his own name, and devoted himself to her for the rest of the evening in the most delightful manner, but the impulse that wrought this agreeable change was the result of one of the new impressions which both of them were unconsciously giving and receiving.

第三十七章新的印象

　　下午三点，在英国散步场能看到尼斯市所有的时髦人物--那是个迷人的地方。散步场四周用棕榈、鲜花和热带作物围住，一面临海，另一面连接一条很宽的车道，车道两边林立着旅馆和别墅。远处是柑橘果园和群山。这里代表着许多国家，人们说着许多不同的语言，穿着各式服装。天气晴朗时，这里的欢快情景就像狂欢节一样惹人注意。傲慢的英国人，活泼的法国人，严肃的德国人，英俊的西班牙人，丑陋的俄国人，谦卑的犹太人，无拘无束的美国人，他们在这里或驾车，或闲坐，或漫游。他们闲聊着新闻，评论着来到这里的时新的知名人物--里斯托里或狄更斯，维克托·伊曼纽尔或桑威奇群岛的女王。来这里的马车及其装备和人群一样五花八门，非常引人注目。特别是女士们自己驾驶的低档双马四轮车。两匹劲头十足的小种马拉着车，车上安装着色彩鲜艳的网子，防止女士们宽大的裙边漫过小小的车子，车后架站着小马车夫。
　　圣诞节这一天，一个高个子年轻人手背在身后，慢慢在散步场走着，神情有些心不在焉。他看上去像是意大利人，打扮又像英国人，却带着美国人独立的神气--这种混合使得各种各样的女士用赞许的目光追随着他。花花公子们身着黑天鹅绒西服，打着玫瑰色的领带，戴着软皮手套，钮扣眼里插着山梅花。他们对那年轻人耸耸肩、继而又嫉妒其他的身材来。周围有许多娱目的倩女，可这年轻人几乎不屑一顾，只是不时打量一下某位身穿蓝衣的金发姑娘。不一会儿，他踱出散步场，在十字路口上站了一会，好像拿不定主意是到公园去听乐队演奏，还是沿着海滩漫步走向山上的城堡。一阵急促的马蹄得得，使他抬头观望。只见一辆小车载着一位女士，很快地顺着街道驶过来。那女士豆蔻年华，金发垂肩，蓝装飘逸。他凝视片刻，脸上的神情为之一振，像一个小男孩似地挥舞着帽子，赶忙跑过去迎接她。
　　"噢，劳里，这真的是你吗？我还以为你根本不会来呢！"艾美叫着放下缰绳，伸出双手。这使一个法国母亲大为反感，她让女儿加快步子，生怕女儿看到这些"疯狂的英国人"的开放风度会伤风败俗。
　　"我路上耽搁了，但是我答应过和你一起过圣诞节。我这就来了。""你爷爷好吗？你们什么时候到的？你们呆在哪里？""很好--昨天夜里--呆在沙万旅馆。我去了你住的旅馆，可是你们都出去了。""我有那么多话要说，都不知道从哪说起了！坐进来，我们可以安安心心地谈话。我打算驾车兜兜风，很想有个伴儿。
　　弗洛为今晚的活动留着劲呢。"
　　"那么有什么活动？舞会？"
　　"在我们旅馆有一场圣诞晚会。那里有许多美国人，他们举行晚会庆祝节日。你肯定和我们一起去？婶婶会高兴的。""谢谢，现在去哪儿？"劳里问。他抱住双臂，身子往后一靠。这个动作很适合艾美，因为她宁愿驾车。阳散马鞭和白马背上的蓝色缰绳让她心满意足。
　　"我先要去取信，然后去拜访城堡之山；那里的风景非常可爱，我喜欢喂孔雀。你去过那里吗？""前几年常去，可是我现在连一眼也不想看它。""现在把你的事告诉我吧。最后一次听到你的消息，是你爷爷写信说，他等着你从柏林来。""是的，我在那儿过了一个月，然后去巴黎和他会合，他在那里安定下来度过冬天。他那儿有朋友，有许多使他开心的事。所以我就离开他来这里了，我们过得非常好。""这样的安排真是妙极，"艾美说。她发现劳里的态度少了些什么，可是又说不上那是什么。
　　"是的，你看，他讨厌旅行，而我不喜欢保持安静。因此，我们各取所需，这样也就没有麻烦。我和他总在一起。他喜欢听我的冒险活动，而我从漫游中回来，有人会很高兴见到我，我喜欢这种感觉。那是个肮脏的破坑，是不是？"他带着厌恶的神情补充道。他们正沿着大道驶向这个古老城市的拿破仑广常"但它富于画趣，所以我不在乎。这河流、群山非常美妙。
　　这若隐若现的狭窄小街纵横交错，让我高兴。现在，我们得等候游行队伍通过，队伍要去圣约翰教堂。" 队伍走过来了，牧师们走在华盖下，披着白面纱的修女们手持燃着的小蜡烛，一些身着蓝衣的教徒一边走一边唱着。
　　劳里无精打采地看着队伍，艾美观察着他，感到一种新的羞涩袭上心头。他有了变化，艾美从身旁这个郁闷的人身上找不到她离开时那个满脸欢乐的男孩的影子。她想，他比以前更英俊了，有了很大长进。可是，见到她时的兴奋劲一过去，他重又疲倦、垂头丧气起来--不是病态，确切地说也不是不快，而是显得有些老成、严肃，可一两年幸福的生活是不会把他变成这样的。艾美并不懂，也不好冒昧询问，所以她摇了摇头，用鞭轻轻打了下小马们。这时行进队伍蜿蜒着穿过帕格里奥尼桥的拱门，进入教堂，从视野中消失了。
　　"Ｑｕｅｐｅｎｓｅｚ－ｖｏｕｓ？"艾美炫耀着她的法语，出国以来，她懂的法语大大增加，虽说质量并未提高。
　　"小姐珍惜光阴，故有所获，令人感佩，"劳里带着赞赏的神色，手按着心鞠躬作答。
　　艾美快活得脸腾地红了。但是，不知怎么回事，这种赞扬不像过去在家里时他给她们那种直率的表扬让她满意。那时在节日期间，他在身边转悠着，带着发自内心的笑容，说她"非常有趣"，并且赞许地拍着她的头。她不喜欢这种新的语调，因为尽管不是无动于衷，尽管有着赞赏的神情，这语调听起来却是冷淡的。
　　"要是这就是他成长的方式，我倒希望他一直是个男孩，"她想。她有了奇怪的失望和不适感，但又力图做出轻松愉快的样子。
　　在阿维格德，她收到了宝贵的家信。于是，她将缰绳交给劳里，非常开心地读了起来。这时他们正沿着林荫路蜿蜒前行，马路两旁是绿色的篱笆，上面的香水月季盛开着，就像是在六月里，开得那样清新。
　　"妈妈说，贝思的情况很不好。我常想着我该回家了，可是她们都说'呆下去'，我就留下来了，因为我不会再有这样的机会了，"艾美严肃地看着这一页信说。
　　"我看你这样做是对的。在家里你什么也不能做，而他们知道你在这儿健康、幸福、非常快乐，这对他们是一个很大的安慰，亲爱的。"他靠近了些，说这些话时他又像从前的老样子。那种时而压在艾美心头的忧虑减轻了，因为，劳里的神情、行为以及兄长般的称呼"亲爱的"似乎使她确信，假如真的发生了什么麻烦事，在异乡的她也不会孤独的。过了一会儿，她笑着给他看一幅乔的速写，乔身穿涂抹工作服，那蝴蝶结昂然直立在帽子上，她的嘴巴吐出这样的字眼："天才冒火花了。"劳里笑着接过来，放进背心口袋，"免得被风吹跑了"。他津津有味地听艾美愉快地读着来信。
　　"这对我将是个非常快乐的圣诞节。上午收到礼物，下午接到家信，又有你相伴，晚上还有舞会，"艾美说。他们在老城堡的废墟中下了车，一群漂亮的孔雀聚拢到他的身边，驯顺地等着他们喂食。艾美站在他上面的山坡上，笑着将面包屑洒向这些漂亮鸟儿们。这时，劳里带着自然的好奇看着她，就像刚才她看他那样。他看到时间和分离在她身上产生了多么大的变化。他没发现使他困惑或者失望的东西，却发现了许多值得欣赏和赞许的东西。忽略她言谈举止中一点小小的矫揉造作成份，她还像从前那样活泼得体，而且她的服装与仪态中又增添了一种描述不出的东西，我们将那称作优雅。艾美看上去总是比她的实际年龄更成熟些，在驾车和谈话方面她都有了某种自信，这使她看上去更像一个精通世故的妇人，虽然实际并非如此。不过，有时她的坏脾气还是有所表现，她仍然保有坚强的意志，她在国外得到的修养也无损于她的天真与直率。
　　劳里看着她喂孔雀时并没有读懂这一切，但是他看到的足以使他满意，并使他产生兴趣。他获得了一幅小小的美丽画面：一个满脸快乐的女孩子站在阳光里，阳光衬托出她衣服的柔和色彩、脸庞的清新气息、头发的金色光泽，使她在令人愉悦的画面中尤为突出。
　　他们登上了山顶上的高地，艾美挥着手，像是欢迎他来这个她喜爱的常来之地。她指指点点，问他："还记得那教堂吗？还有科尔索，在海湾拖着网的渔夫？喏，就在下面。那条可爱的道路通向弗朗加别墅和舒伯特塔楼。不过，最美的还是那远处海面上的小点，他们说那是科西嘉岛。记得吗？""记得。变化不大，"他没有热情地回答。
　　"要是能看一眼那著名的小点乔会放弃一切的！"艾美兴高彩烈地说，她很想看到他也一样高兴。
　　"是的。"他只说了这两个字，然后他转过身来，极目远眺。现在在他的眼里，一个甚至比拿破仑还要伟大的侵占者使这个岛屿变得生动起来。
　　"为了她，好好地看看这个岛屿吧。然后过来告诉我，这一段时间你都干了些什么。"艾美坐下来，准备听他的长谈。
　　可是她没听到，因为尽管他过来爽快地回答了她的所有问题，她只获悉他在欧洲大陆漫游，并去过希腊。就这样，他们闲逛了一小时后，便驾车回家了。劳里向卡罗尔太太道过安后就离开了她们，他答应晚上过来。
　　艾美的表现得记录下来。那天晚上，她故意打扮得非常漂亮。时间与分离在两个年轻人身上都发生了变化。艾美以一种新的眼光看她的老朋友，不是作为"我们的男孩"，而是作为一个英俊悦人的男人。她意识到自己有一种非常自然的愿望，想在他眼里得宠。艾美知道自己的长处，她用风情与技巧充分显示了她的长处。对一个贫穷但美丽的女人来说，风情与技巧便是一种财富。
　　在尼斯市，薄纱和绢网很便宜，因此，在这样的场合里，艾美便用它们包装自己。她的装扮采用明智的英国式样：年轻姑娘们穿戴朴素。她用鲜花、一些廉价首饰，以及各种玲珑的饰物打扮自己，这些小小的装饰品令人着迷，花钱不多，效果却不错。必须承认，有时候艺术家的品味支配了妇人，她沉迷于梳古代发式，做雕像般的姿势，穿古典式的服装。可是，哎呀，我们大家都有小小的弱点，很容易原谅年轻人身上的这种小毛玻他们的美丽愉悦了我们的双眼，他们天真的虚荣心使我们保持心情怡悦。
　　"我真想让他认为我看上去漂亮，然后回家对家里人这么说，"艾美自言自语。她穿上弗洛那件旧的白色丝质舞裙，披上一袭新的透明薄纱，露出她那白皙的肩膀和金黄色的脑袋，这样品具艺术韵味。她有眼光地将头发上的厚波浪与卷曲部分在脑后挽起一个青春女神似的结，让其余部分自然垂下。
　　"这不是流行式样，但是适合我。我不能把自己弄得怪模怪样，"当别人建议他像最新时尚需要的那样去卷发、吹风或者辫辫子时，她总这么说。
　　在这种重要的场合，艾美没有上好的首饰，因此，她用一束束粉红的杜鹃花为她的羊毛裙饰了一道花边，又用清雅的绿色蔓草装点她乳白的双肩。她记起了以前涂色的靴子，便带着女孩子的满足，打量着她的白色缎面拖鞋，在屋里跳起滑步舞来。她独自欣赏着自己带有贵族气的小脚。
　　"我的新扇子和我的花束正好相配，我的手套十二万分地适宜，婶婶ｍｏｕｃｈｏｉｒ上的真丝花边提高我全身衣服的档次。
　　要是再有一个古典的鼻子和嘴巴，我就是最幸福的人，"她一手拿一支蜡烛，带着挑剔的眼光打量着自己说。
　　虽然这让她有点苦恼，但她碎步走动时看上去还是异常活泼优雅。她很少跑步--那样不适合她的风格，她想，因为她个子高，比起嬉戏或顽皮的小跑来，那种稳重的、像天后朱诺般雍容华贵的步子更适宜她。她在长长的大厅里来回走着，一边等着劳里。有一次她站到枝形吊灯下，因为灯光映照着她的头发，产生了很好的效果。后来她改变了主意，走到了屋子的另一头，好像为她女孩家的愿望--想给人第一眼留下美好印象--感到不好意思。碰巧，她这样做恰到好处，因为，劳里悄没声地走了进来。她没听到他的声音。她站在远处的窗边，半偏着头，一手提着裙边，红色的窗帘映衬着她那白色的苗条身段，产生的效果如同一座巧妙安置的雕像。
　　"晚上好，黛安娜！"劳里说。他的目光落在她身上，露出了满意的神色。艾美喜欢他这种神色。
　　"晚上好，阿波罗！"她笑着向他回答。他看上去是那么宽厚。一想到挽着这样一位有风度的男子走进舞厅，艾美不由得打心底里可怜起那四位难看的戴维斯小姐来。
　　"给你花儿，我自己插的。我记得你不喜欢罕娜说的那种'乱插花'，"劳里说着递给她一束漂亮的、香味扑鼻的花儿。
　　那个花夹她早就想要了。以前每天经过长迪格尼娅花店橱窗时她都盼望有这样一个花夹。
　　"你太客气了！"她低声惊叹，不失风度。"要是我知道你来，我就会准备些东西给你了，虽然恐怕不及这个漂亮，""谢谢。这花不像你说的那样好，但是配上你才漂亮。"他补充道。艾美手腕上的银手镯叮呤作响。
　　"请别这样说。"
　　"我以为你喜欢这样呢。"
　　"不是，从你嘴里说出来，听起来不自然。我更喜欢你以前的直率。""我很高兴你这么说，"他带着宽慰的神情回答，然后他为她扣上了手套上的纽扣，问她他的领带打直了没有，就像以前在家时他们一道去参加舞会时做的那样。
　　那天晚上，聚集在长长的ｓａｌｌｅｍａｎｇｅｒ里的人群五花八门，除了在欧洲大陆，任何别的地方都见不到这样的景象。好客的美国人邀请了他们在尼斯市的每一个熟人。他们对爵位不抱偏见，也就获得了几位爵爷的驾临，为圣诞舞会增色。
　　一个俄国王子屈尊坐着和一位魁伟的女士谈了一个小时。那位女士打扮得像哈姆雷特的母亲，她身穿黑天鹅绒礼服，下巴底下缀着珍珠。一个十八岁的波兰伯爵，很投入地和女士们周旋着，女士们称他为"一个迷人的宝贝"。一个德国殿下之类的人，来这专为吃饭，他漫无目的地在大厅里漫游着，寻找他可以吞咽的食物。男爵罗思柴尔德的私人秘书，一个穿着结实的靴子、有着一个大鼻子的犹大人，对众人和蔼地微笑着，好像他主人的名字使他罩上了一层金色的光环。
　　一个认识国王的矮胖法国人来这里为了过把舞瘾。琼斯女士，一个英国妇女，用她那小小的八口之家点缀了舞会。当然，还有许多步伐轻快、嗓音尖锐的美国姑娘，端庄、呆板的英国女孩，和一些不好看、但是淘气的法国小姐，同时还有常见的那一类爱旅行的年轻绅士们。他们愉快地玩着，而来自各个国家的母亲们沿着墙壁坐着，当先生们和她们的女儿们共舞时，母亲们宽厚地朝他们笑着。
　　那天晚上，当艾美靠着劳里的胳膊"出场"时，任何年轻姑娘都能想象出她的心境。她知道她看上去漂亮，她喜欢跳舞，她感到她的脚像是踏在家乡的舞池里，她欣赏那种令人陶醉的力量感。当年轻姑娘们首次发现她们生来就可以用美貌、青春以及女性气质这些美德来统治一个可爱的新王国时，她们就会产生这种感觉。她真的同情戴维斯家的姑娘们，她们笨拙而又长相平平，除了一个严厉的爸爸和三个更严厉的独身姑姑，她们没有护卫者。艾美经过她们时，以最友好的态度向她们鞠躬。她做得对，因为这使她们看到了她的衣服。她们好奇心如焚，想知道她那高雅的朋友是何许人。乐队奏起了第一首曲子，艾美的脸红了，眼睛发亮，她的脚焦躁地踏着地。她舞跳得不错，她想让劳里知道这一点。所以，当他以十分平静的语调问道："你想跳舞吗？"她受到的震动不用描述就可以想象出来。
　　"在舞会上人们通常是想跳的。"
　　她迅速回答，惊诧的神情让劳里想尽快弥补自己的过失。
　　"我是指第一个舞，能赏光吗？"
　　"如果我把伯爵的邀请往后推，就能和你跳。他跳得非常好，不过你是个老朋友，伯爵会原谅我的，"艾美说。她希望那个名字能起到好作用，她想让劳里知道不可小看她。
　　"可爱的小男孩，但那个波兰人个子太矮不能支撑神仙的女儿，她个头很高，有着超凡脱俗般的美貌。"这便是她得到的所有满足。
　　他们发现身处一帮英国人之中，在这种不断变换舞伴的舞会中，艾美不得礼节性地穿行期间，她始终感觉到似乎后面可以尽兴地跳塔兰台拉舞。劳里把她交给了"可爱的小男孩"，去向弗洛尽义务，没有再找艾美享受后面舞曲的乐趣，这种缺乏远见的行为应该受到指责，也得到了恰如其分的惩罚。因为，艾美立刻就舞了起来，直到晚饭时分。她打算只要劳里显出后悔的样子，就宽容他。当他踱过来，而不是跑过来，请她跳下一个美妙的波尔卡雷多瓦舞时，她带着满意的神态，假装正经地给他看她的舞会曲目册。但是他那彬彬有礼的悔过并没有对她产生影响，她和伯爵急速舞着离开了他。这时艾美看到他和她婶婶坐在一起，脸上带着十分宽容的神情。
　　真是不可饶耍好长时间，艾美不再去注意他，只是偶尔在舞曲的间隙里，到她的陪伴人那里，把衣服上的别针弄一弄，休息一会儿，这都是必需的。她用笑脸遮盖住怒气，看上去格外赏心悦目，这产生了很好的效果。劳里高兴地用目光追随着她，她既不嬉闹，也不闲逛，只是兴高彩烈、优雅地舞着，充分表现了这种娱乐应有的欢乐。很自然，他开始以这种新的观点研究起她来。舞会进行还不到一半时间，他就认定"小艾美就要成为一个非常迷人的妇人了"。
　　这是一个欢乐的场面。不久，社交的情绪感染了每一个人，圣诞节的欢乐气氛使所有的人都脸上放光，心头喜悦，脚步轻快。乐师们拉着提琴，吹着喇叭，敲着鼓，好像他们也陶醉于其中。能跳的都在跳，不能跳的便带着非同寻常的热情赞赏着邻近的人们。戴维斯家的姑娘们脸上却愁云密布。琼斯家的许多孩子像一群小长颈鹿似地嬉闹着。那个有名声的秘书带着一个打扮漂亮的法国女人舞着，像流星一般划过舞厅，女人的粉红色缎裙在地下扫着。那个日耳曼殿下高兴地发现了晚餐桌子，不停地吃着，吃遍了菜单上所有的美味，他的扫荡使ｇａｒｃｏｎｓ惊愕不已。而国王的朋友出尽风头，他跳了所有的舞，也不管他会不会。有的舞步他搞不清，便即席来个竖趾旋转。看着那矮胖的人像孩子般地放纵真是解颐，因为，尽管他"有影响"，跳舞却像一个橡皮球似地滚动。他奔跑着，飞舞着，欢跃着，脸红脖子粗，秃脑袋闪闪发光，燕尾服尾巴狂乱地摆动，舞鞋真的在空中轻快而有节奏地一闪一闪。音乐停止了，他擦去额上的大滴汗珠，对他的同伴们笑着，像是一个法国的匹克威克，只是手中没有端酒杯。
　　艾美和那个波兰人舞伴以同样的热情表现出色，只是他们跳得要轻快优雅些。劳里发现自己不自觉地合上了那双白拖鞋上下起伏的节拍，那双拖鞋就像安上了翅膀似地不知疲倦地飞来飞去。那个小弗拉基米尔最后放开了她，宣称"这么早就离开很难过"。这时，艾美准备休息了，她要看看她那怯懦的骑士是怎样接受惩罚的。
　　事情进行得不错，因为，在二十三岁这个年龄，受挫的心情能在友好的社交圈里得到安慰。置身于美、光和音乐的迷人氛围，年轻人会神经绷紧，血液沸腾，情绪高涨。劳里起身给艾美让座时，脸上露出了振奋的神情。当他匆匆走开去给她拿晚饭时，她自言自语地说："噢，我想那样对他有好处的！""你看上去就像巴尔扎克笔下的'Eｅｍｍｅｐｅｉｎｔｅｐａｒｅｌｌｅ－ｍêｍｅ，"他说，一只手为她扇风，另一只手为她端着咖啡杯。
　　"我的胭脂不会掉的。"艾美擦着她那容光焕发的脸，既严肃又天真地给他看她的白手套。劳里不由放声大笑起来。
　　"这个玩意儿叫什么？"他碰了碰飘拂在膝上的一团织物，问道。
　　"透明面纱。"
　　"名字不错。它非常漂亮--新东西，是不是？""它和群山一样老，在许多女孩身上你都见过，可是你到现在才发现它漂亮--ｓｔｕｐｉｄｅ！""我以前从来没看你披过，你看，这就是错误所在。""别那样说话，打住！现在我宁愿喝咖啡，也不要听恭维话。别，别晃来晃去的，那让我心烦。"劳里坐得笔直，他温顺地接过艾美吃光了的空盘子。让"小艾美"东派西使，他感到一种奇异的快乐。现在，艾美已经没有了羞涩感，她有一种抵挡不住的欲望，想凌驾于他之上。当男人们表示臣服时，姑娘们都有一种让人乐意领受的方法治他们。
　　"你在哪里学到这种东西的？"他带着迷惑的神情问她。
　　"'这种东西'表达太含糊，你能否解释一下？"艾美回答。她很清楚他的意思，但是却淘气地让他描述无法描述的东西。
　　"嗯--整个风度、气质，那种沉着，那--那--那个透明面纱--你知道的。"劳里笑了起来，他住了口，那个新词弄得他张口结舌，他好不容易从窘境中挣脱出来。
　　艾美心满意足了，但是她不露声色，假装正经地回答："旅外生活不知不觉地使人变得优雅起来。除了游玩，我还学习。至于这个--"她朝衣服做了个小手势--"哎呀，薄纱便宜，花束不用花钱。我习惯于充分利用那些可怜的小东西。"最后一句话让艾美很是后悔，她担心那样说趣味不好。可是劳里更喜欢她了。他感到自己既赞赏又尊重那种充分利用机会的无畏的坚忍，以及那种以鲜花遮盖贫困的乐观精神。艾美不知道劳里为什么那样亲切地看着她，也不知道他为什么在她的舞会曲目册上填满他自己的名字，而且在晚会剩下的时间里，他以最愉快的态度全副身心倾注于她。然而，产生这种悦人变化的冲动便是一种新的印象，他们俩都不知不觉地给予并接受对方这种新印象。

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一二三四五六七~~~

举报只看该作者 39楼发表于: 2013-10-25 0

Chapter Thirty-eight 0n the Shelf

In France the young girls have a dull time of it till they are married, when `Vive la liberte!' becomes their motto. In America, as everyone knows, girls early sign the declaration of independence, and enjoy their freedom with republican zest, but the young matrons usually abdicate with the first heir to the throne and go into a seclusion almost as close as a French nunnery, though by no means as quiet. Whether they like it or not, they are virtually put upon the shelf as soon as the wedding excitement is over, and most of them might exclaim, as did a very pretty woman the other day, "I'm as handsome as ever, but no one takes any notice of me because I'm married."
Not being a belle or even a fashionable lady, Meg did not experience this affliction till her babies were a year old, for in her little world primitive customs prevailed, and she found herself more admired and beloved than ever.
As she was a womanly little woman, the maternal instinct was very strong, and she was entirely absorbed in her children, to the utter exclusion of everything and everybody else. Day and night she brooded over them with tireless devotion and anxiety, leaving John to the tender mercies of the help, for an Irish lady now presided over the kitchen department. Being a domestic man, John decidedly missed the wifely attentions he had been accustomed to receive, but as he adored his babies, he cheerfully relinquished his comfort for a time, supposing with masculine ignorance that peace would soon be restored. But three months passed, and there was no return of repose. Meg looked worn and nervous, the babies absorbed every minute of her time, the house was neglected, and Kitty, the cook, who took life `aisy', kept him on short commons. When he went out in the morning he was bewildered by small commissions for the captive mamma, if he came gaily in at night, eager to embrace his family, he was quenched by a "Hush! They are just asleep after worrying all day." If he proposed a little amusement at home, "No, it would disturb the babies." If he hinted at a lecture or a concert, he was answered with a reproachful look, and a decided "Leave my children for pleasure, never!" His sleep was broken by infant wails and visions of a phantom figure pacing noiselessly to and fro in the watches of the night. His meals were interrupted by the frequent flight of the presiding genius, who deserted him, half-helped, if a muffled chirp sounded from the nest above. And when he read his paper of an evening, Demi's colic got into the shipping list and Daisy's fall affected the price of stocks, for Mrs. Brooke was only interested in domestic news.
The poor man was very uncomfortable, for the children had bereft him of his wife, home was merely a nursery and the perpetual `hushing' made him feel like a brutal intruder whenever he entered the sacred precincts of Babyland. He bore it very patiently for six months, and when no signs of amendment appeared, he did what other paternal exiles do--tried to get a little comfort elsewhere. Scott had married and gone to housekeeping not far off, and John fell into the way of running over for an hour or two of an evening, when his own parlor was empty, and his own wife singing lullabies that seemed to have no end. Mrs. Scott was a lively, pretty girl, with nothing to do but be agreeable, and she performed her mission most successfully. The parlor was always bright and attractive, the chessboard ready, the piano in tune, plenty of gay gossip, and a nice little supper set forth in tempting style.
John would have preferred his own fireside if it had not been so lonely, but as it was he gratefully took the next best thing and enjoyed his neighbor's society.
Meg rather approved of the new arrangement at first, and found it a relief to know that John was having a good time instead of dozing in the parlor, or tramping about the house and waking the children. But by-and-by, when the teething worry was over and the idols went to sleep at proper hours, leaving Mamma time to rest, she began to miss John, and find her workbasket dull company, when he was not sitting opposite in his old dressing gown, comfortably scorching his slippers on the fender. She would not ask him to stay at home, but felt injured because he did not know that she wanted him without being told, entirely forgetting the many evenings he had waited for her in vain. She was nervous and worn out with watching and worry, and in that unreasonable frame of mind which the best of mothers occasionally experience when domestic cares oppress them. Want of exercise robs them of cheerfulness, and too much devotion to that idol of American women, the teapot, makes them feel as if they were all nerve and no muscle.
"Yes," she would say, looking in the glass, "I'm getting old and ugly. John doesn't find me interesting any longer, so he leaves his faded wife and goes to see his pretty neighbor, who has no incumbrances. Well, the babies love me, they don't care if I am thin and pale and haven't time to crimp my hair, they are my comfort, and some day John will see what I've gladly sacrificed for them, won't he, my precious?"
To which pathetic appeal daisy would answer with a coo, or Demi with a crow, and Meg would put by her lamentations for a maternal revel, which soothed her solitude for the time being. But the pain increased as politics absorbed John, who was always running over to discuss interesting points with Scott, quite unconscious that Meg missed him. Not a word did she say, however, till her mother found her in tears one day, and insisted on knowing what the matter was, for Meg's drooping spirits had not escaped her observation.
"I wouldn't tell anyone except you, Mother, but I really do need advice, for if John goes on much longer I might as well be widowed," replied Mrs. Brooke, drying her tears on Daisy's bib with an injured air.
"Goes on how, my dear?" asked her mother anxiously.
"He's away all day, and at night when I want to see him, he is continually going over to the Scotts'. It isn't fair that I should have the hardest work, and never any amusement. Men are very selfish, even the best of them."
"So are women. Don't blame John till you see where you are wrong yourself."
"But it can't be right for him to neglect me."
"Don't you neglect him?"
"Why, Mother, I thought you'd take my part!"
"So I do, as far as sympathizing goes, but I think the fault is yours, Meg."
"I don't see how."
"Let me show you. Did John ever neglect you, as you call it, while you made it a point to give him your society of an evening, his only leisure time?"
"No, but I can't do it now, with two babies to tend."
"I think you could, dear, and I think you ought. May I speak quite freely, and will you remember that it's Mother who blames as well as Mother who sympathizes?"
"Indeed I will! Speak to me as if I were little Meg again. I often feel as if I needed teaching more than ever since these babies look to me for everything."
Meg drew her low chair beside her mother's, and with a little interruption in either lap, the two women rocked and talked lovingly together, feeling that the tie of motherhood made them more one than ever.
"You have only made the mistake that most young wives make-forgotten your duty to your husband in your love for your children. A very natural and forgivable mistake, Meg, but one that had better be remedied before you take to different ways, for children should draw you nearer than ever, not separate you, as if they were all yours, and John had nothing to do but support them. I've seen it for some weeks, but have not spoken, feeling sure it would come right in time."
"I'm afraid it won't. If I ask him to stay, he'll think I'm jealous, and I wouldn't insult him by such an idea. He doesn't see that I want him, and I don't know how to tell him without words."
"Make it so pleasant he won't want to go away. My dear, he's longing for his little home, but it isn't home without you, and you are always in the nursery."
"Oughtn't I to be there?"
"Not all the time, too much confinement makes you nervous, and then you are unfitted for everything. Besides, you owe something to John as well as to the babies. Don't neglect husband for children, don't shut him out of the nursery, but teach him how to help in it. His place is there as well as yours, and the children need him. Let him feel that he has a part to do, and he will do it gladly and faithfully, and it will be better for you all."
"You really think so, Mother?"
"I know it, Meg, for I've tried it, and I seldom give advice unless I've proved its practicability. When you and Jo were little, I went on just as you are, feeling as if I didn't do my duty unless I devoted myself wholly to you. Poor Father took to his books, after I had refused all offers of help, and left me to try my experiment alone. I struggled along as well as I could, but Jo was too much for me. I nearly spoiled her by indulgence. You were poorly, and I worried about you till I fell sick myself. Then Father came to the rescue, quietly managed everything, and made himself so helpful that I saw my mistake, and never have been able to got on without him since. That is the secret of our home happiness. He does not let business wean him from the little cares and duties that affect us all, and I try not to let domestic worries destroy my interest in his pursuits. Each do our part alone in many things, but at home we work together, always."
"It is so, Mother, and my great wish is to be to my husband and children what you have been to yours. Show me how, I'll do anything you say."
"You were always my docile daughter. Well, dear, if I were you, I'd let John have more to do with the management of Demi, for the boy needs training, and it's none too soon to begin. Then I'd do what I have often proposed, let Hannah come and help you. She is a capital nurse, and you may trust the precious babies to her while you do more housework. You need the exercise, Hannah would enjoy the rest, and John would find his wife again. Go out more, keep cheerful as well as busy, for you are the sunshine-maker of the family, and if you get dismal there is no fair weather. Then I'd try to take an interest in whatever John likes--talk with him, let him read to you, exchange ideas, and help each other in that way. Don't shut yourself up in a bandbox because you are a woman, but understand what is going on, and educate yourself to take your part in the world's work, for it all affects you and yours."
"John is so sensible, I'm afraid he will think I'm stupid if I ask questions about politics and things."
"I don't believe he would. Love covers a multitude of sins, and of whom could you ask more freely than of him? Try it, and see if he doesn't find your society far more agreeable than Mrs. Scott's suppers."
"I will. Poor John! I'm afraid I have neglected him sadly, but I thought I was right, and he never said anything."
"He tried not to be selfish, but he has felt rather forlorn, I fancy. This is just the time, Meg, when young married people are apt to grow apart, and the very time when they ought to be most together, for the first tenderness soon wears off, unless care is taken to preserve it. And no time is so beautiful and precious to parents as the first years of the little lives given to them to train. Don't let John be a stranger to the babies, for they will do more to keep him safe and happy in this world of trial and temptation than anything else, and through them you will learn to know and love one another as you should. Now, dear, good-by. Think over Mother's preachment, act upon it if it seems good, and God bless you all."
Meg did think it over, found it good, and acted upon it, though the first attempt was not made exactly as she planned to have it. Of course the children tyrannized over her, and ruled the house as soon as they found out that kicking and squalling brought them whatever they wanted. Mamma was an abject slave to their caprices, but Papa was not so easily subjugated, and occasionally afflicted his tender spouse by an attempt at paternal discipline with his obstreperous son. For Demi inherited a trifle of his sire's firmness of character, we won't call it obstinacy, and when he made up his little to have or to do anything, all the king's horses and all the king's men could not change that pertinacious little mind. Mamma thought the dear too young to be taught to conquer his prejudices, but Papa believed that it never was too soon to learn obedience. So Master Demi early discovered that when he undertook to `wrastle' with `Parpar', he always got the worst of it, yet like the Englishman, baby respected the man who conquered him, and loved the father whose grave "No, no," was more impressive than all Mamma's love pats. A few days after the talk with her mother, Meg resolved to try a social evening with John, so she ordered a nice supper, set the parlor in order, dressed herself prettily, and put the children to bed early, that nothing should interfere with her experiment. But unfortunately Demi's most unconquerable prejudice was against going to bed, and that night he decided to go on a rampage. So poor Meg sang and rocked, told stories and tried every sleep-prevoking wile she could devise, but all in vain, the big eyes wouldn't shut, and long after Daisy had gone to byelow, like the chubby little bunch of good nature she was, naughty Demi lay staring at the light, with the most discouragingly wide-awake expression of countenance.
"Will Demi lie still like a good boy, while Mamma runs down and gives poor Papa his tea?" asked Meg, as the hall door softly closed, and the well-known step went tip-toeing into the dining room.
"Me has tea!" said Demi, preparing to join in the revel.
"No, but I'll save you some little cakies for breakfast, if you'll go bye-by like Daisy. Will you, lovey?"
"Iss!" and Demi shut his eyes tight, as if to catch sleep and hurry the desired day.
Taking advantage of the propitious moment, Meg slipped away and ran down to greet her husband with a smiling face and the little blue bow in her hair which was his especial admiration. He saw it at once and said with pleased surprise, "Why, little mother, how gay we are tonight. Do you expect company?"
"Only you, dear."
"No, I'm tired of being dowdy, so I dressed up as a change. You always make yourself nice for table, no matter how tired you are, so why shouldn't I when I have the time?'
"I do it out of respect for you, my dear," said old-fashioned John.
"Ditto, ditto, Mr. Brooke," laughed Meg, looking young and pretty again, as she nodded to him over the teapot.
"Well, it's altogether delightful, and like old times. This tastes right. I drink your health, dear." And John sipped his tea with an air of reposeful rapture, which was of very short duration however, for as he put down his cup, the door handle rattled mysteriously, and a little voice was heard, saying impatiently ...
"Opy doy. Me's tummin!"
"It's that naughty boy. I told him to go to sleep alone, and here he is, downstairs, getting his death a-cold pattering over that canvas," said Meg, answering the call.
"Mornin' now," announced Demi in joyful tone as he entered, with his long nightgown gracefully festooned over his arm and every curl bobbing gayly as he pranced about the table, eyeing the `cakies' with loving glances.
"No, it isn't morning yet. You must go to bed, and not trouble poor Mamma. Then you can have the little cake with sugar on it."
"Me loves Parpar," said the artful one, preparing to climb the paternal knee and revel in forbidden joys. But John shook his head, and said to Meg...
"If you told him to stay up there, and go to sleep alone, make him do it, or he will never learn to mind you."
"Yes, of course. Come, Demi." And Meg led her son away, feeling a strong desire to spank the little marplot who hopped beside her, laboring under the delusion that the bribe was to be administered as soon as they reached the nursery.
Nor was he disappointed, for that shortsighted woman actually gave him a lump of sugar, tucked him into his bed, and forbade any more promenades till morning.
"Iss!" said Demi the perjured, blissfully sucking his sugar, and regarding his first attempt as eminently successful.
Meg returned to her place, and supper was progressing pleasantly, when the little ghost walked again and exposed the maternal delinquencies by boldly demanding, "More sudar, Marmar."
"Now this won't do," said John, hardening his heart against the engaging little sinner. "We shall never know any peace till that child learns togo to bed properly. You have made a slave of yourself long enough. Give him one lesson, and then there will be an end of it. Put him in his bed and leave him, Meg."
"He won't stay there, he never does unless I sit by him."
"I'll manage him. Demi, go upstairs, and get into your bed, as Mamma bids you."
"S'ant!" replied the young rebel, helping himself to the coveted `cakie', and beginning to eat the same with calm audacity.
"You must never say that to Papa. I shall carry you if you don't go yourself."
"Go 'way, me don't love Parpar." And Demi retired to his mother's skirts for protection.
But even that refuge proved unavailing, for he was delivered over to the enemy, with a "Be gentle with him, John," which struck the culprit with dismay, for when Mamma deserted him, then the judgment day was at hand. Bereft of his cake, defrauded of his frolic, and borne away by a strong hand to that detested bed, poor Demi could not restrain his wrath, but openly defied Papa, and kicked and screamed lustily all the way upstairs. The minute he was put into bed on one side, he rolled out on the other, and made for the door, only to be ignominiously caught up by the tail of his little toga and put back again, which lively performance was kept up till the young man's strength gave out, when he devoted himself to roaring at the top of his voice. This vocal exercise usually conquered Meg, but John sat as unmoved as the post which is popularly believed to be deaf. No coaxing, no sugar, no lullaby, no story, even the light was put out and only the red glow of the fire enlivened the `big dark' which Demi regarded with curiosity rather than fear. This new order of things disgusted him, and he howled dismally for `Marmar', as his angry passions subsided, and recollections of his tender bondwoman returned to the captive autocrat. The plaintive wail which succeeded the passionate roar went to Meg's heart, and she ran up to say beseechingly...
"Let me stay with him, he'll be good now, John."
"No, my dear. I've told him he must go to sleep, as you bid him, and he must, if I stay here all night."
"But he'll cry himself sick," pleaded Meg, reproaching herself for deserting her boy.
"No, he won't, he's so tired he will soon drop off and then the matter is settled, for he will understand that he has got to mind. Don't interfere, I'll manage him."
"He's my child, and I can't have his spirit broken by harshness."
"He's my child, and I won't have his temper spoiled by indulgence. Go down, my dear, and leave the boy to me."
When John spoke in that masterful tone, Meg always obeyed, and never regretted her docility.
"Please let me kiss him once, John?"
"Certainly. Demi, say good night to Mamma, and let her go and rest, for she is very tired with taking care of you all day."
Meg always insisted upon it that the kiss won the victory, for after it was given, Demi sobbed more quietly, and lay quite still at the bottom of the bed, whither he had wriggled in his anguish of mind.
"Poor little man, he's worn out with sleep and crying. I'll cover him up, and then go and set Meg's heart at rest." thought John, creeping to the bedside, hoping to find his rebellious heir asleep.
But he wasn't, for the moment his father peeped at him, Demi's eyes opened, his little chin began to quiver, and he put up his arms, saying with a penitent hiccough, "Me's dood, now."
Sitting on the stairs outside Meg wondered at the long silence which followed the uproar, and after imagining all sorts of impossible accidents, she slipped into the room to set her fears at rest. Demi lay fast asleep, not in his usual spreadeagle attitude, but in a subdued bunch, cuddled close in the circle of his father's arm and holding his father's finger, as if he felt that justice was tempered with mercy, and had gone to sleep a sadder and wiser baby. So held, John had waited with a womanly patience till the little hand relaxed its hold, and while waiting had fallen asleep, more tired by that tussle with his son than with his whole day's work.
As Meg stood watching the two faces on the pillow, she smiled to herself, and then slipped away again, saying in a satisfied tone, "I never need fear that John will be too harsh with my babies. He does know how to manage them, and will be a great help, for Demi is getting too much for me."
When John came down at last, expecting to find a pensive or reproachful wife, he was agreeably surprised to find Meg placidly trimming a bonnet, and to be greeted with the request to read something about the election, if he was not too tired. John saw in a minute that a revolution of some kind was going on, but wisely asked no questions, knowing that Meg was such a transparent little person, she couldn't keep a secret to save her life, and therefore the clue would soon appear. He read a long debate with the most amiable readiness and then explained it in his most lucid manner, while Meg tried to look deeply interested, to ask intelligent questions, and keep her thoughts from wandering from the state of the nation to the state of her bonnet. In her secret soul, however, she decided that politics were as bad as mathematics, and the the mission of politicians seemed to be calling each other names, but she kept these feminine ideas to herself, and when John paused, shook her head and said with what she thought diplomatic ambiguity, "Well, I really don't see what we are coming to."
John laughed, and watched her for a minute, as she poised a pretty little preparation of lace and flowers on her hand, and regarded it with the genuine interest which his harangue had failed to waken.
"She is trying to like politics for my sake, so I'll try and like millinery for hers, that's only fair," thought John the Just, adding aloud, "That's very pretty. Is it what you call a breakfast cap?"
"My dear man, it's a bonnet! My very best go-to-concert-and-theater bonnet."
"I beg your pardon, it was so small, I naturally mistook it for one of the flyaway things you sometimes wear. How do you keep it on?"
"These bits of lace are fastened under the chin with a rosebud, so." And Meg illustrated by putting on the bonnet and regarding him with an air of calm satisfaction that was irresistible.
"It's a love of a bonnet, but I prefer the face inside, for it looks young and happy again." And John kissed the smiling face, to the great detriment of the rosebud under the chin.
"I'm glad you like it, for I want you to take me to one of the new concerts some night. I really need some music to put me in tune. Will you, please?"
"Of course I will, with all my heart, or anywhere else you like. You have been shut up so long, it will do you no end of good, and I shall enjoy it, of all things. What put it into your head, little mother?"
"Well, I had a talk with Marmee the other day, and told her how nervous and cross and out of sorts I felt, and she said I needed change and less care, so Hannah is to help me with the children, and I'm to see to things about the house more, and now and then have a little fun, just to keep me from getting to be a fidgety, broken-down old woman before my time. It's only an experiment, John, and I want to try it for your sake as much as for mine, because I've neglected you shamefully lately, and I'm going to make home what it used to be, if I can. You don't object, I hope?"
Never mind what John said, or what a very narrow escape the little bonnet had from utter ruin. All that we have any business to know is that John did not appear to object, judging from the changes which gradually took place in the house and its inmates. It was not all Paradise by any means, but everyone was better for the division of labor system. The children throve under the paternal rule, for accurate, stedfast John brought order and obedience into Babydom, while Meg recovered her spirits and composed her nerves by plenty of wholesome exercise, a little pleasure, and much confidential conversation with her sensible husband. Home grew homelike again, and John had no wish to leave it, unless he took Meg with him. The Scotts came to the Brookes' now, and everyone found the little house a cheerful place, full of happiness, content, and family love. Even Sallie Moffatt liked to go there. "It is always so quiet and pleasant here, it does me good, Meg," she used to say, looking about her with wistful eyes, as if trying to discover the charm, that she might use it in her great house, full of splendid lonliness, for there were no riotous, sunny-faced babies there, and Ned lived in a world of lis own, where there was no place for her.
This household happiness did not come all at once, but John and Meg had found the key to it, and each year of Married life taught them how to use it, unlocking the treasuries of real home love and mutual helpfulness, which the poorest may possess, and the richest cannot buy. This is the sort of shelf on which young wives and mothers may consent to be laid, safe from the restless fret and fever of the world, finding loyal lovers in the little sons and daughters who cling to them, undaunted by sorrow, poverty, or age, walking side by side, through fair and stormy weather, with a faithful friend, who is, in the true sense of the good old Saxon word, the `house-band', and learning, as Meg learned, that a woman's happiest kingdom is home, her highest honor the art of ruling it not as a queen, but as a wise wife and mother.

第三十八章束之高阁

　　在法国，年轻姑娘们婚前生活很乏味；结了婚，"Ｖｉｖｅｌａｌｉｂｅｒｔé便成了她们的座右铭。而在美国，众所周知，姑娘们早就签署了独立宣言，她们带着共和党人的热情享受着自由。
　　然而，通常在家庭的第一个继承人登上宝座之时，年轻的主妇们便逊位了。她们过着归隐的生活，几乎像是在法国的女修道院，却没有那里安静。不管她们是否愿意，一旦婚姻激动人心的时期过去，事实上她们便被束之高阁。大多数妇女会惊叹，就像前些日子一个非常漂亮的女人所说的："我和以前一样漂亮，可是仅仅因为我结了婚，就不再有人注意我了！"梅格不是美女，甚至也不是个时髦女士，所以在她的孩子们长到一岁之前，她都没经受这种痛苦。在她的小世界里，古风习俗盛行，她感到自己得到的赞赏与爱心比前更多。
　　她是个温柔的小妇人，母性的本能非常强烈，所以她把全副精力用于孩子们，排斥任何别的东西，别的人。她带着不知疲倦的献身精神与焦虑心情，日日夜夜想孩子们之所想。
　　现在厨房诸事一应交给一个爱尔兰太太主管，梅格将约翰丢给她，任由她摆布。约翰是个热爱家庭生活的男人，肯定怀念他惯常受到的妻子的照顾。但是他喜爱他的孩子们，也就愉快地暂时放弃了他的舒适，带着男子的懵然无知推测不久就会恢复安宁。然而，三个月时间过去了，平静没有重返。梅格看上去疲倦紧张，而那个厨子过日子很有"节制"，总不让他吃饱。早上出门时，他看到家务缠身的妈妈忙着桩桩琐碎小事，感到迷惑不解。晚上兴冲冲地回到家里，急切地想拥抱妻子，却被妻子止住了："嘘，他们吵了一天，刚刚睡着。"假如他提议在家里来点娱乐，"不！那样会打扰孩子们。"要是他暗示去听讲座或音乐会，梅格会责备地看着他，然后断然回答："丢下孩子们去享乐？决不！"在难以成眠的夜里，他听到孩子们的哭叫声，看到一个幽灵般的身影无声无息地来回走动。吃饭时，只要楼上小窝里传来轻微响动，主管一切的天才便会奔离餐桌，其他于不顾，这频繁的上上下下打搅了他的进餐。晚上他读报时，德米的疝痛混进了航运表，黛西的跌跤则影响了股评价格，而布鲁克太太只对家庭的新闻感兴趣。
　　那可怜的人感到非常不舒服，因为孩子们使他失去了妻子。家只不过是一个托儿所，每当他进入神圣的孩子领地，那不断的"嘘"声使他感到自己像是一个野蛮的入侵者。他非常耐心地忍受了六个月，情况仍然没有改善的迹象。这时，他像其他被放逐的父亲们一样--试图从别的地方找些小慰藉。斯科特已经结了婚，在离他们不远的地方居家过日子。约翰便成了习惯，晚上过去玩一两小时，而他自家的客厅空荡荡的，妻子哼着似乎永无终了的催眠曲。斯科特夫人活泼、美丽，她无事可做，却能让人愉快。她非常成功地完成她的使命。她家的客厅总是明亮、吸引人。棋盘摆好了，钢琴调准了。在这里可以闲聊许多令人开心的事，还有一顿诱人的小晚餐等着他。
　　要不是自家的炉边那么寂寞，约翰会宁愿呆在自己家的。
　　但他还是心怀感激地退而求其次，享受着与邻居为伴的乐趣。
　　开始时，梅格十分赞同他这种新的安排。约翰玩得很尽兴，他不再在自家的客厅打盹儿，或者在房子里到处乱走，让沉重的脚步声惊醒孩子们。她因此而感到欣慰。然而不久以后，孩子们出牙期的焦躁结束。宠儿们睡觉守时，妈妈便有了休息的时间。这时她开始想念约翰。约翰没有像过去那样，穿着旧睡衣坐在她的对面，舒坦地在火炉围栏上烤他的拖鞋，于是她发现针线篮是个乏味的伴儿。她不愿求他呆在家里，但她感到受了伤害，因为她不告诉他，他也就不知道她需要他。
　　梅格完全记不得那许多夜晚，约翰徒劳地等着她。她照看孩子，为孩子操心，又紧张又疲倦。她那种无奈的心绪大多数母亲在家事拖累下都时而有过。缺乏锻炼使她们不再快乐，美国妇女们过分专注于她们的宠物--茶壶，这使她们感到好像她们太神经质，精力不济。
　　"是的，"梅格朝镜子里看着，总会这么说，"我越来越老了，丑了。约翰不再认为我有趣了，所以他丢下他憔悴的妻子，去见那没有儿女拖累的漂亮邻居了。好吧，孩子们爱我，即便我消瘦，面色苍白，没时间卷头发，他们也不在乎。他们是我的安慰。总有一天约翰会看到我心甘情愿为他们作出的牺牲，是不是，我的宝贝们？"听着这种哀切的倾诉，黛西会发出"呀呀"的声音作反应，德米却欢叫着来回答她。这时，梅格便会带着母亲的得意丢开她的悲哀，这暂时抚慰了她的孤寂。然而，约翰迷上了政治，这一来加深了梅格的痛苦。约翰总是跑过去和斯科特讨论他感兴趣的观点，他根本没意识到梅格想他。可是她一个字也没说，直到有一天母亲发现梅格在哭。妈妈坚持要她说出是怎么回事，梅格低落的情绪没有逃过妈妈的目光。
　　"妈妈，除了你我不会告诉任何人的。可是我真的需要忠告，因为，约翰要是再这样下去，我最好是去当寡妇。"布鲁克太太带着受伤的神情用黛西的围嘴擦着眼泪。
　　"怎样下去，亲爱的？"妈妈焦急地问。
　　"他白天整天在外面，到了晚上我想见他时，他却总是去斯科特家。这样不公平，我就该干最重的活，从来没有乐趣？
　　男人太自私了，他们中最好的也不例外。""女人们也是这样。看看你自己哪儿错了，再责备约翰。""可是他忽视我，这不可能是对的！""你可忽视了他？""哎呀，妈妈，我以为你会站在我这一边呢！""就同情而言，是这样的。可是梅格，我认为责任在你！""我看不出怎么在我。""我来告诉你。当你在晚上他仅有的空余时间里总是陪伴他时，约翰可像你说的那样忽视你？""没有。可是我现在做不到，我有两个孩子要照管。""我想你能够做到的，亲爱的。我想你也应该这么做。我可以很不客气地说话吗？你愿意记住妈妈是既责备你又同情你的人？""我真的愿意。就像我又成了小梅格那样对我说吧。自从这两个孩子一切都仰仗我，我常感到好像比以前更需要教导了。"梅格将她的矮椅拖到妈妈的椅子旁边，一边膝上放一个小捣蛋。两个妇人摇着椅子，亲切地谈着话，她们感到母性的纽带将她们联得越发紧密了。
　　"你只是犯了大多数年轻妻子们所犯的那种错--因为爱孩子而忘记了对丈夫应尽的责任。这种错非常自然，也是可以原谅的。梅格，你最好是加以补救，而不要采取别的方式，因为孩子们越来越依恋你，不想和你分开，好像他们都是你的，约翰没份，只能抚养他们。我已经看出来几个星期了，只是没说出来。我想事情最终会摆正的。""恐怕不会的。要是我求他呆在家里，他会以为我忌妒了。
　　我不想让他产生这种念头。他看不出我需要他，我不知道怎样不用言语让他明白我的心。""把家里弄得赏心悦目，他就不想出去了，亲爱的。他渴慕自己的小家，但不是没有你的家。可你总是在育儿室。""我不应该在那里？""不应所有的时间都在那儿，过多的封闭会使你神经紧张，结果干什么都不合适了。而且，和对孩子们一样，你也欠了约翰的。别为了孩子忽视了丈夫，别把他关在育儿室外面，而要教他怎样帮忙。和你一样，那里也有他的位置，孩子们需要他。让他感到也有他的一份事儿，他会高兴地克尽职守，这样对你们大家都会更好。""你真的这么认为，妈妈？""梅格，我知道的，我试过。我证实过这个建议的可行性，不然，我不会给别人建议的。当你和乔还小的时候，我的情况就像你这样，感到要不是整个人交给你们，就没尽到责任。
　　你可怜的爸爸提出帮助，我一概拒绝，他便沉醉到书本里去，让我独自去做我的试验。我尽力地挣扎着，但是乔太难对付了，我差点宠坏了她。你身体不好，我为你操心，后来自己也病了。这时，你爸爸过来救援了。他默默地处理着每一件事，他的帮助太大了。我看到了自己的过错，从那以后，没有他我根本不能过活。这就是我们家庭幸福的秘密所在。他不允许工作将他从影响我们大家的家务小事和责任中脱离开来，我也努力不让家务烦恼破坏我对他工作的兴趣。有许多事情，我们独自各干各的，可是在家里我们总是一起干活。""是这样的，妈妈。我最大的愿望就是在丈夫和孩子的眼里成为你那样的妻子和母亲。告诉我怎么做，你怎么说我就怎么做。""你总是我听话的孩子。好吧，亲爱的。我要是你的活，就让约翰多管管德米，因为男孩子需要训练，训练开始得越早越好。你还要做我常向你提议的事，让罕娜嬷嬷过来帮忙；她是个绝好的保姆，你可以把宝贝孩子托给她照料，自己多做些家务。你需要这份煅炼，罕娜会高高兴兴地干其余的活，而约翰又会找回他的妻子。多出去些，既要忙碌着，也要保持畅快，因为你是家庭中制造欢乐的人。要是你情绪忧郁，家庭生活也就没有了好天气。你还要试着做到：约翰喜欢什么，我就对什么感兴趣--去和他谈谈，让他为你读读书，交流思想，以那种方式互相帮助。别因为你是个妇人，就把自己装在纸板盒里，要了解时事，要训练自己参与世事，因为这些都和你的工作有联系。""约翰那么聪明。我担心要是我问他政治和其他问题，他会认为我笨的。""我想他不会的，爱情能宽容许多过失。除了他，你还能更直率地问谁呢？试试吧，看他可会发现你的相伴和斯科特的晚餐哪个更好。""我会这么做的。可怜的约翰！我恐怕我已经不幸地忽视了他。我还以为我是对的呢，他从来不说什么。""他试图不表现出自私，但是我想他已经感到了相当的凄凉。梅格，现在恰是时候。这个时候年轻的夫妻们易于疏远，也最应贴近，因为结婚最初的柔情蜜意，如不用心维持，很快就会消逝。在小生命们交给他们培育的最初几年里，对父母来说，没有比这更美好、更宝贵的日子了。别让约翰成为孩子们的陌生人。在这个具有考验与诱惑的世界，孩子们比任何别的东西都更能使他安全、幸福。通过孩子们，你们能够，也应该学着相知相爱。好了，亲爱的，再见。想想妈妈的训导，要是觉得好就这么做。上帝保佑你们全家。"梅格确实仔细想了一回，觉得妈妈说得不错，也这么做了，虽然第一次尝试并不完全像她筹划的那样。孩子们当然对她横行霸道。一旦发现蹬腿嚎哭能带来他们所要的东西，他们便统治了屋子。在他们的任性驱驶下，妈妈是个卑贱的奴隶，可是爸爸却不那么容易征服。有时，爸爸想用父亲的纪律管制任性的儿子时，却使他那软心肠的妻子痛苦。德米继承了他父亲一些坚强的个性--我们不把它叫顽固--当他的小脑袋打定主意要什么或做什么时，国王的所有人马都改变不了那个不屈不挠的小脑袋产生的念头。妈妈认为小宝贝太小了，还不能叫他克服偏见。可是爸爸相信，学习服从怎么也不会为时过早。因此德米少爷很早就发现，只要他和"爸贝（爸）""叫（较）量"，他总是大败。然而像美国人那样，孩子尊敬征服了他的人。他爱爸爸。爸爸严肃的"不、不"比妈妈所有慈爱的鼓励都更使他牢记在心。
　　和妈妈谈话后又过了几天，梅格决心陪伴约翰一晚上。因此，她准备了一桌像样的晚餐，客厅收拾得井井有条，自己打扮得漂漂亮亮，而且很早就让孩子们上床睡觉。没什么能够打扰她进行试验了。可不幸的是，德米难以克服的恶习便是反对上床睡觉。那天晚上，他决定要胡搅蛮缠。所以梅格唱啊，摇啊，讲故事，想尽了哄他入睡的点子，可是一切均告无效。黛西已经睡着很长时间了，他那双大眼睛还是不合上。黛西长得胖胖嘟嘟的，脾气也好。可淘气的德米躺在那里盯着灯看，脸上的表情十分清醒。令人泄气！
　　"德米，乖孩子，静静躺着好不好？妈妈下楼去给你可怜的爸爸倒杯茶，"梅格问。她听到过道里的门轻轻关上了，熟悉的踮着脚走路的声音进入了饭厅。
　　"德米要喝茶！"德米说。他准备参加宴会。
　　"不，要是你像黛西那样静静地去睡，我就给你留些小饼饼明天当早饭。好不好，宝贝？""考（好）！"德米紧紧闭上了眼睛，好像要追上睡眠，赶快到盼望的明天。
　　梅格利用这有利的时机溜出门，跑下楼笑着迎接丈夫。她头上戴着那个他特别欣赏的蓝色蝴蝶结。他立即就瞧见了，惊喜地问："哎呀，小母亲，今晚我们多么高兴。有客人？""只有你，亲爱的！""那是生日、周年纪念日，还是别的什么？""都不是！我厌倦了当邋遢女人，所以我打扮起来换个样。
　　你不管有多累，坐在餐桌前时总是穿戴整齐。我有时间，为什么不能也这样呢？""我那样是出于对你的尊重，亲爱的！"老式的约翰说。
　　"我也一样，我也一样，布鲁克先生。"梅格笑了。她又是那么年轻漂亮了。她隔着茶壶向他点着头。
　　"嗯，真是非常好，又像以前那样了。这个味道不错。亲爱的，为你的健康干杯！"约翰一阵狂喜。他恬然地啜着茶，然而这种情形非常短暂，因为，当他放下杯子时，门把手神秘地嗒嗒响了起来，只听见一个小小的声音焦躁地说着--"太（开）门，我要见（进）来！""是那个淘气包！我叫他自己去睡，他倒跑到楼下来了。
　　穿着那帆布鞋嗒嗒跑着，冻死他去，"梅格说着去开门。
　　"已经到早上了，"德米进门开心地宣告，长睡衣优雅地垂落在胳膊下。他在桌子旁乱蹦乱跳，头上每一络小鬈发都随之一上一下地欢跳。他钟情地打量着"小饼饼"。
　　"不，还没到早上。你得去睡觉，别烦你可怜的妈妈。这样你就能吃到带糖的小饼饼。""德米爱爸贝。"机灵的小家伙打算爬到爸爸的膝上，参加欢宴，享受被禁止的乐趣。可是约翰摇着头，对梅格说--"要是你叫他呆在楼上，自己睡觉，那就让他这么做，否则他就再不会在乎你的话了。""当然是这样。过来，德米。"梅格领走了儿子，她真想揍这小捣蛋的屁股。他在她身旁蹦着，幻想着一进到育儿室就会得到贿赂。
　　他并没有失望。缺乏远见的妇人真的给了他一块糖。她把他塞进被子里，不到早晨，不许他再溜下来。
　　"考（好）！"德米发了假誓，他极快乐地吮着糖块，为他又一次得手而自鸣得意。
　　梅格回到位子上，晚餐进行得十分惬意。忽然，那小鬼又走进屋来，他揭发了妈妈的失职，大胆地要求"还要吃糖糖，姆妈"。
　　"哎哟，这可不行。"约翰硬起心肠回绝那可爱的小罪犯。
　　"那孩子不去安稳地睡觉，我们就不得安宁。你做奴隶的时间已经够长了。教训他一下，一切都会结束。把他放到床上，丢开他，梅格。""他不会呆在那儿的，除非我坐在他身边。""我来对付他。德米，上楼去，像妈妈说的那样上你的床去。""我不！"小叛逆回答。他伸手去拿他垂涎的"饼饼"，然后沉着大胆地吃了起来。
　　"不可对爸爸这样说话。你要是不自己走，我就把你带走。""走开，德米不爱爸贝了。"德米退到妈妈的裙子边寻求保护。
　　可是那个避难所没用，因为妈妈说着"对他温和些，约翰"，就把他交给了敌人，令小罪犯沮丧。一旦妈妈不管他，审判日就要到了。他被夺去了饼子，失掉了欢乐，又被一只顽强的手带到了那张讨厌的床上。可怜的德米控制不住愤怒。
　　他公然反抗爸爸，拼命地一路踢着腿，尖叫着上了楼。刚把他放到床上，他就尖叫着滚到另一边，然后朝门口冲去。结果又很失面子地让爸爸抓住小睡袍下襟提回了床上。这种热闹的场面一直进行着，直到小家伙的力气耗完了。这时他放声大嚎起来。这种发声练习通常总征服了梅格，可是约翰却一动不动地坐在那里，像个柱子。柱子是公认的聋子，什么也听不见的。没有哄劝，没有糖块，没有催眠曲，也没有故事，甚至灯也给灭了，只有炉火发出的红光为"大大的黑暗"添了点生气。德米好奇地看着黑暗，反倒不怕了。这种新局面使他憎恶。当愤怒的狂暴平息下去时，被监禁的小霸主想起了他温柔的女奴，便绝望地吼着要起姆妈来。这随着怒嚎之后发出的痛哭声直扎梅格的心窝，她跑上楼去恳求--"让我和他呆在一起吧。他现在会乖的了，约翰！""不，亲爱的。我已经跟他说过，他必须像你说的那样去睡觉。只要我晚上在这儿，他非睡不可！""可是，他会哭出病来的，"梅格求道，她责怪自己不该丢弃她的孩子。
　　"不，他不会的。他很累了，很快就会睡着。事情就完了。
　　他要懂得应该听话。别插手，我来对付他。""他是我的孩子，我不能让生硬的态度摧毁他的精神。""他是我的孩子，我不许用溺爱宠坏他的脾气。下楼去，亲爱的，把孩子丢给我吧。"当约翰以那种主人的腔调说话时，梅格总是服从着，她也从不为她的温顺后悔。
　　"约翰，请让我亲他一下，可以吗？"
　　"当然可以。德米，对妈妈说晚安，让她去休息。她整天照顾你们很累了。"梅格总是坚持说亲吻能起作用。亲过以后，德米的呜咽声小下去了。他静静地躺在床里边，先前他曾在那里痛苦地扭动过。
　　"可怜的小人，他那样哭着，又想睡觉，已经累坏了。我来给他盖上被，然后下楼让梅格放心，"约翰想道。他蹑手蹑脚来到床边，以为他那叛逆的继承人已经睡着。
　　可是他并没有睡着。爸爸一过来窥探，德米的眼睛便睁开了，小下巴也开始颤抖。他伸出胳膊，后悔地抽着气说："现在德米听发（话）了。"梅格坐在门外的台阶上，弄不清大嚎以后长时间的寂静是怎么回事。她想象着各种各样不可能发生的事故，最后溜进了屋，她要消除疑窦。德米已经睡熟，不是通常那种仰八叉，而是乖顺地蜷曲着，睡在爸爸的胳膊弯里，紧紧地搂着爸爸，握着爸爸的手指，好像体味到了爸爸的恩威兼施，睡着了看上去像是更悲伤也更懂事了。约翰就这样搂着他，带着女人般的耐心等那小手松开。可是等待中自己也睡着了，与其说他是和儿子扭打累了，还不如说是一天工作劳累所致。
　　梅格站在那里，注视着枕头上的两张脸，暗自笑了起来。
　　然后，她又溜了出去，满意地说："我根本不需要担心约翰会对我的孩子们过分粗暴，他真的知道怎样对付他们。他会是个好帮手，德米太伤我的神了。"约翰终于下楼来了，他本料想会看到一个郁郁不乐或者要责备他的妻子，结果却又惊又喜地看到梅格心平气和地在修饰一顶帽子，还请求他如果要是不太累的话，就为她读点有关选举的东西。约翰很快便看出，正在进行某种革命。但是他明智地不加提问，因为他知道，梅格是个非常直率的小妇人，守不住任何秘密，所以不久事情就会露出端倪。他欣然应允，非常温和地读了一个冗长的辩论，然后十分清楚地解释给她听。梅格装出深感兴趣的样子，想找些聪明的问题来问，尽力阻止脑子从国家状况漫游到她帽子的状况上。然而，她暗自思忖，认定政治和数学一样让人头疼。政治家们的使命似乎就是互相咒骂。她把这些妇人之见留在心底，当约翰停下来时，她便摇着头，说出她认为具有外交含糊性的话："嗯，我真看不出我们解决了什么问题。"约翰笑了起来。他看了她一分钟，她在手里抚弄着一个用丝带和花儿装饰的小帽儿，兴趣十足地瞅着。他的高谈阔论却没有激起这种兴趣。
　　"她竟想着好我所好，所以我也要爱她所爱，这才公平！"公道的约翰想着，然后大声补充道："非常漂亮，这就是你说的那种早餐帽？""我亲爱的丈夫，这是户外软帽，也是我去音乐会和戏院戴的最好的帽子。""请原谅，它这么小，我自然把它错当成你有时随意穿戴的那种。你怎样让它保持不掉呢？""用这几条丝带系在下巴下，配上玫瑰花蕾，这样。"梅格戴上帽子，系给他看。她带着一种抵挡不住的、宁静而又满足的神态看着他。
　　"这顶帽子多可爱！可是我更喜欢它下面的那张脸，因为它看上去年轻快乐了！"约翰亲了亲那张笑脸。这大大有损于下巴下的那朵玫瑰花蕾。
　　"很高兴你喜欢它，因为我想让你哪天晚上带我去听场新的音乐会。我真的需要音乐使我保持正常状态。好不好？求你了！""当然可以，你已经被困了这么长时间了。我真想带你出去，去你想去的任何地方。那样会给你带来无穷乐趣。所有的事中，我也最喜欢这件。什么让你想到这点的，小妈妈？""嗯。前些天我和妈咪谈过。我告诉她，我感到多么紧张、焦躁、情绪不好。她说我需要些变化，少操些心，所以打算让罕娜嬷嬷过来帮忙照看孩子，我就多照管些家务，适时出去调节一下，免得变成一个性情烦躁、未老先衰的老妇女。约翰，这只不过是个试验，为了你，也为了我自己。我想做这个实验，因为最近我令人羞愧地忽视了你。假如我能够，我要把家恢复到以前的样子。你不反对，是吧？"别去管约翰说了什么，也别管那顶小帽子是怎样十分侥幸地免于彻底损坏，我们有权利知道的事情便是下面这些。从这座屋子及起居民们逐渐发生的变化判断，约翰好像并未反对什么。房子当然没有成为伊甸园，然而劳动系统的分工使每个人感到情况更好了。在父亲的管束下，孩子们茁装成长。
　　约翰处事精细，意志坚定，他将秩序和服从带进了孩子王国。
　　同时，梅格通过大量有益健康的锻炼、一些小小的生活乐趣，以及和聪明的丈夫许多次推心置腹的谈话，恢复了精神，稳定了情绪。家又变得像家了。如果不带上梅格，约翰也不愿意离开家了。现在斯科特夫妇来布鲁克家作客了。每个人都感到小屋子是个生活胜地，充满欢声笑语、天伦之乐。甚至快活的莎莉·莫法特也喜欢来这儿了。"你这里总是那么安静，令人愉悦。我老想来，梅格！"她总是这么说，渴慕地四下打量着屋子，仿佛要发现魅力之所在，好在她的大院里也如法炮制。那所华宅金玉满堂，但却孤寂冷静，因为那里没有吵吵闹闹、活泼快乐的孩子们，内德生活的世界里没有她的容身之地。
　　这种家庭的幸福不是突然降临的，但是，约翰和梅格找到了开启它的钥匙。婚后的岁月教会他们如何使用这把钥匙，打开真正的家庭之爱与互相帮助的宝库之门，这些财富最贫穷的人们可以拥有，最富有的人们却买不到。这就是年轻的妻子们和母亲们同意被束在那种高阁的原因。在那上面，她们于世间的不安与焦虑中安然无恙，在那些依恋她们的幼儿稚女身上找到了忠诚的爱；她们无畏痛苦、贫穷与年岁的增长；她们和一个忠实的朋友携手并进，同甘共苦。这个朋友，那古老优秀的萨克逊语言的真正意思就是"家庭的保证"。
　　她们就像梅格那样，认识到妇人最幸福的王国是家庭，而作为她们统治艺术最高荣耀的不是做一个女王，而是做一个聪明的妻子和母亲。

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