现代灰姑娘 英文版 A Modern Cinderella
露意莎.梅.奥尔科特 Louisa May Alcott
A MODERN CINDERELLA OR, THE LITTLE OLD SHOE Page 1
HOW IT WAS LOST
Among green New England hills stood anancient house, many-gabled, mossy-roofed, andquaintly built, but picturesque and pleasant to theeye; for a brook ran babbling through the orchardthat encompassed it about, a garden-plat stretchedupward to the whispering birches on the slope, andpatriarchal elms stood sentinel upon the lawn, asthey had stood almost a century ago, when theRevoiution rolled that way and found them young.
One summer morning, when the air was full ofcountry sounds, of mowers in the meadow, black-birds by the brook, and the low of kine upon thehill-side, the old house wore its cheeriest aspect,and a certain humble history began.
"Nan!"
"Yes, Di."
And a head, brown-locked, blue-eyed, soft-featured, looked in at the open door in answerto the call.
Just bring me the third volume of 'WilhelmMeister,' there's a dear. It's hardly worth whileto rouse such a restless ghost as I, when I'monce fairly laid."
As she spoke, Di PUlled up her black braids,thumped the pillow of the couch where she waslying, and with eager eyes went down the lastpage of her book.
"Nan!"
"Yes, Laura," replied the girl, coming backwith the third volume for the literay cormorant,who took it with a nod, still too content uponthe "Confessions of a Fair Saint" to rememberthe failings of a certain plain sinner.
"Don't forget the Italian cream for dinner. Idepend upon it; for it's the only thing fit for methis hot weather."
And Laura, the cool blonde, disposed the foldsof her white gown more gracefully about her, andtouched up the eyebrow of the Minerva she wasdrawing.
"Little daughter!"
"Yes, father."
"Let me have plenty of clean collars in mybag, for I must go at once; and some of you bringme a glass of cider in about an hour;--I shall bein the lower garden."
The old man went away into his imaginaryparadise, and Nan into that domestic purgatoryon a summer day, -- the kitchen. There werevines about the windows, sunshine on the floor,and order everywhere; but it was haunted by acooking-stove, that family altar whence such variedincense rises to appease the appetite of householdgods, before which such dire incantations arepronounced to ease the wrath and woe of the priestessof the fire, and about which often linger saddestmemories of wasted temper, time, and toil.
Nan was tired, having risen with the birds,--hurried, having many cares those happy littlehousewives never know,--and disappointed in ahope that hourly " dwindled, peaked, and pined."She was too young to make the anxious lines uponher forehead seem at home there, too patient tobe burdened with the labor others should haveshared, too light of heart to be pent up whenearth and sky were keeping a blithe holiday. Butshe was one of that meek sisterhood who, thinkinghumbly of themselves, believe they are honoredby being spent in the service of less conscientioussouls, whose careless thanks seem quitereward enough.
To and fro she went, silent and diligent, givingthe grace of willingness to every humble or distastefultask the day had brought her; but somemalignant sprite seemed to have taken possessionof her kingdom, for rebellion broke out everywhere.The kettles would boil over most obstreperously,--the mutton refused to cook with themeek alacrity to be expected from the nature ofa sheep,--the stove, with unnecessary warmth oftemper, would glow like a fiery furnace,--theirons would scorch,--the linens would dry,--andspirits would fail, though patience never.
Nan tugged on, growing hotter and wearier,more hurried and more hopeless, till at last thecrisis came; for in one fell moment she tore hergown, burnt her hand, and smutched the collar shewas preparing to finish in the most unexceptionablestyle. Then, if she had been a nervouswoman, she would have scolded; being a gentlegirl, she only "lifted up her voice and wept."
"Behold, she watereth her linen with salt tears,and bewaileth herself because of much tribulation.But, lo! Help cometh from afar: a strong manbringeth lettuce wherewith to stay her, pluckethberries to comfort her withal, and clasheth cymbalsthat she may dance for joy."
The voice came from the porch, and, with herhope fulfilled, Nan looked up to greet John Lord,the house-friend, who stood there with a basketon his arm; and as she saw his honest eyes, kindlips, and helpful hands, the girl thought this plainyoung man the comeliest, most welcome sight shehad beheld that day.
"How good of you, to come through all thisheat, and not to laugh at my despair!" she said,looking up like a grateful child, as she led him in.
"I only obeyed orders, Nan; for a certain dearold lady had a motherly presentiment that you hadgot into a deomestic whirlpool, and sent me as asort of life-preserver. So I took the basket ofconsolation, and came to fold my feet upon the carpetof contentment in the tent of friendship."
As he spoke, John gave his own gift in hismother's name, and bestowed himself in the widewindow-seat, where morning-glories nodded at him,and the old butternut sent pleasant shadowsdancing to and fro.
His advent, like that of Orpheus in hades,seemed to soothe all unpropitious powers with asudden spell. The Fire began to slacken. thekettles began to lull, the meat began tocook, the irons began to cool, the clothes began tobehave, the spirits began to rise, and the collar wasfinished off with most triumphant success. Johnwatched the change, and, though a lord of creation,abased himself to take compassion on theweaker vessel, and was seized with a great desireto lighten the homely tasks that tried her strengthof body and soul. He took a comprehensiveglance about the room; then, extracting a dishfrom he closet, proceeded to imbrue his hands inthe strawberries' blood.
"Oh, John, you needn't do that; I shall havetime when I've turned the meat, made the puddingand done these things. See, I'm getting onfinely now:--you're a judge of such matters;isn't that nice?"
As she spole, Nan offered the polished absurdityfor inspection with innocent pride.
"Oh that I were a collar, to sit upon thathand!" sighed John,--adding, argumentatively,
"As to the berry question, I might answer it witha gem from Dr. Watts, relative to 'Satan' andidle hands,' but will merely say, that, as a matterof public safety, you'd better leave me alone; forsuch is the destructiveness of my nature, that I shallcertainly eat something hurtful, break somethingvaluable, or sit upon something crushable, unlessyou let me concentrate my energies by knockingon these young fellows' hats, and preparing themfor their doom."
Looking at the matter in a charitable light,Nan consented, and went cheerfully on with herwork, wondering how she could have thoughtironing an infliction, and been so ungrateful forthe blessings of her lot.
"Where's Sally?" asked John, looking vainlyfor the functionary who usually pervadedthat region like a domestic police-woman, a terrorto cats, dogs, and men.
"She has gone to her cousin's funeral, andwon't be back till Monday. There seems to bea great fatality among her relations; for one dies,or comes to grief in some way, about once a month.But I don't blame poor Sally for wanting to getaway from this place now and then. I think Icould find it in my heart to murder an imaginaryfriend or two, if I had to stay here long."
And Nan laughed so blithely, it was a pleasureto hear her.
"Where's Di?" asked John, seized with amost unmasculine curiosity all at once.
prepare the dishWherewith her picturesque.
"She is in Germany with 'Wilhelm Meister';but, though 'lost to sight, to memory clear'; forI was just thinking, as I did her things, howclever she is to like all kinds of books that I don'tunderstand at all, and to write things that makeme cry with pride and delight. Yes, she's atalented dear, though she hardly knows a needlefrom a crowbar, and will make herself one greatblot some of these days, when the 'divine afflatus'descends upon her, I'm afraid."
And Nan rubbed away with sisterly zeal atDi's forlorn hose and inky pocket-handkerchiefs.
"Where is Laura?" proceeded the inquisitor.
"Well, I might say that she was in Italy; forshe is copying some fine thing of Raphael's orMichael Angelo's, or some great creatures orother; and she looks so picturesque in her prettygown, sitting before her easel, that it's really asight to behold, and I've peeped two or threetimes to see how she gets on."
And Nan bestirred herself to prepare the dishWherewith her picturesque sister desired toprolong her artistic existence.
"Where is your father?" John asked again,checking off each answewr with a nod and a littlefrown.
"He is down in the garden, deep in some planabout melons, the beginning of which seems toconsist in stamping the first proposition in Euclidall over the bed, and then poking a few seedsinto the middle of each. Why, bless the dearman! I forgot it was time for the cider. Wouldn'tyou like to take it to him, John? He'd love toconsult you; and the lane is so cool, it does one'sheart good to look at it."
John glanced from the steamy kitchen to theshadowy path, and answered with a sudden assumptionof immense industry,--
"I couldn't possibly go, Nan,--I've so muchon my hands. You'll have to do it yourself. 'Mr.Robert of Lincoln' has something for your privateear; and the lane is so cool, it will do one's heartgood to see you in it. Give my regards to yourfather, and, in the words of 'Little Mabel's'mother, with slight variation,--
'Tell the dear old bodyThis day I cannot run,For the pots are boiling overAnd the mutton isn't done.'"
"I will; but please, John, go in to the girls andbe comfortable; for I don't like to leave you here,"said Nan.
"You insinuate that I should pick at the puddingor invade the cream, do you? Ungratefulgirl, leave me!" And, with melodramatic sterness,John extinguished her in his broad-brimmedhat, and offered the glass like a poisoned goblet.
Nan took it, and went smiling away. But thelane might have been the Desert of Sahara, forall she knew of it; and she would have passedher father as unconcernedly as if he had been anapple-tree, had he not called out,--
"Stand and deliver, little woman!"
She obeyed the venerable highwayman, andfollowed him to and fro, listening to his plans anddirections with a mute attention that quite wonhis heart.
"That hop-pole is really an ornament now,Nan; this sage-bed needs weeding,--that's goodwork for you girls; and, now I think of it, you'dbetter water the lettuce in the cool of theevening, after I'm gone."
She found John--he having made a free-masonof himself, by assuming her little apron--meditatingover the partially spread table, lost in amazeat its desolate appearance; one half its proper paraphernaliahaving been forgotten, and the otherhalf put on awry. Nan laughed till the tears ranover her cheeks, and John was gratified at theefficacy of his treatment; for her face had broughta whole harvest of sunshine from the garden, andall her cares seemed to have been lost in the windingsof the lane.
"Nan, are you in hysterics?" cried Di, appearing,book in hand. "John, you absurd man,what are you doing?"
"I'm helpin' the maid of all work, pleasemarm." And John dropped a curtsy with hislimited apron.
Di looked ruffled, for the merry words were acovert reproach; and with her usual energy ofmanner and freedom of speech she tossed "Wilhelm"out of the window, exclaiming, irefully.--
"That's always the way; I'm never where Iought to be, and never think of anything till it'stoo late; but it's all Goethe's fault. What doeshe write books full of smart 'Phillinas' andinteresting 'Meisters' for? How can I be expectedto remember that Sally's away, and people musteat, when I'm hearing the 'Harper' and little'Mignon?' John, how dare you come here anddo my work, instead of shaking me and tellingme to do it myself? Take that toasted child away,and fan her like a Chinese mandarin, while I dishup this dreadful dinner."
John and Nan fled like chaff before the wind,while Di, full of remorseful zeal, charged at thekettles, and wrenched off the potatoes' jackets,as if she were revengefully pulling her own hair.Laura had a vague intention of going to assist;but, getting lost among the lights and shadows ofMinerva's helmet, forgot to appear till dinner hadbeen evoked from chaos and peace was restored.
At three o'clock, Di performed the coronationceremony with her father's best hat; Laura retiedhis old-fashioned neckcloth, and arranged his whitelocks with an eye to saintly effect; Nan appearedwith a beautifully written sermon, and suspiciousink-stains on the fingers that slipped it into hispocket; John attached himself to the bag; and thepatriarch was escorted to the door of his tent withthe triumphal procession which usually attendedhis out-goings and in-comings. Having kissed thefemale portion of his tribe, he ascended the venerablechariot, which received him with audiblelamentation, as its rheumatic joints swayed to andfro.
"Good-bye, my dears! I shall be back earlyon Monday morning; so take care of yourselves,and be sure you all go and hear Mr. Emerboypreach to-morrow. My regards to your mother.John. Come, Solon!"
But Solon merely cocked one ear, and remaineda fixed fact; for long experience had induced thephilosophic beast to take for his motto the Yankeemaxim, "Be sure you're right, then go ahead!He knew things were not right; therefore he didnot go ahead.
"Oh, by the way, girls, don't forget to payTommy Mullein for bringing up the cow: heexpects it to-night. And Di, don't sit up tilldaylight, nor let Laura stay out in the dew. Now, Ibelieve I'm off. Come, Solon!"
But Solon only cocked the other ear, gentlyagitated his mortified tail, as premonitorysymptoms of departure, and never stirred a hoof,being well aware that it always took three "comes"to make a "go."
"Bless me! I've forgotten my spectacles.They are probablv shut up in that volume ofHerbert on my table. Very awkward to findmyself without them ten miles away. Thank you,John. Don't neglect to water the lettuce,Nan, and don't overwork yourself, my little'Martha.' Come--"
At this juncture Solon suddenly went off, like"Mrs. Gamp," in a sort of walking swoon, apparentlydeaf and blind to all mundane matters,except the refreshments awaiting him ten milesaway; and the benign old pastor disappeared,humming "Hebron" to the creaking accompanimentof the bulgy chaise.
Laura retired to take her siesta; Nan made asmall carbonaro of herself by sharpening hersister's crayons, and Di, as a sort of penance forpast sins, tried her patience over a piece of knitting,in which she soon originated a somewhat remarkablepattern, by dropping every third stitch, and seamingad libitum. If John bad been a gentlemanly creature,with refined tastes, he would have elevated his feetand made a nuisance of himself by indulging in a "weed;"but being only an uncultivated youth, with a rusticregard for pure air and womankind in general, he kepthis head uppermost, and talked like a man, instead ofsmoking like a chimney.
"It will probably be six months before I sithere again, tangling your threads and maltreatingyour needles, Nan. How glad you must feelto hear it!" he said, looking up from a thoughtfulexamination of the hard-working little citizensof the Industrial Community settled in Nan'swork-basket.
"No, I'm very sorry; for I like to see youcoming and going as you used to, years ago, and Imiss you very much when you are gone, John,"answered truthful Nan, whittling away in a sadlywasteful manner, as her thoughts flew back to thehappy times when a little lad rode a little lass in abig wheelbarrow, and never spilt his load,--whentwo brown heads bobbed daily side by side toschool, and the favorite play was "Babes in theWood," with Di for a somewhat peckish robinto cover the small martyrs with any vegetablesubstance that lay at hand. Nan sighed, as shethought of these things, and John regarded thebattered thimble on his finger-tip with increasedbenignity of aspect as he heard the sound.
"When are you going to make your fortune,John, and get out of that disagreeable hardwareconcern? " demanded Di, pausing after anexciting "round," and looking almost as muchexhausted as if it had been a veritable pugilisticencounter.
"I intend to make it by plunging still deeperinto 'that disagreeable hardware concern;' for,next year, if the world keeps rolling, andJohn Lord is alive, he will become a partner, and then--and then--"
The color sprang up into the young man'scheek, his eyes looked out with a sudden shine,and his hand seemed involuntarily to close, as ifhe saw and seized some invisible delight.
"What will happen then, John?" asked Nan,with a wondering glance.
"I'll tell you in a year, Nan, wait till then."and John's strong hand unclosed, as if thedesired good were not to be his yet.
Di looked at him, with a knitting-needle stuckinto her hair, saying, like a sarcastic unicorn,--
"I really thought you had a soul above potsand kettles, but I see you haven't; and I begyour pardon for the injustice I have done you."
Not a whit disturbed, John smiled, as if at somemighty pleasant fancy of his own, as he replied,--
"Thank you, Di; and as a further proof of theutter depravity of my nature, let me tell you thatI have the greatest possible respect for those articlesof ironmongery. Some of the happiest hours of mylife have been spent in their society; some of mypleasantest associations are connected with them;some of my best lessons have come to me amongthem; and when my fortune is made, I intend toshow my gratitude by taking three flat-ironsrampant for my coat of arms.
Nan laughed merrily, as she looked at the burnson her hand; but Di elevated the most prominentfeature of her brown countenance, and sigheddespondingly,--
"Dear, dear, what a disappointing world thisis! I no sooner build a nice castle in Spain, andsettle a smart young knight therein, than down itcomes about my ears; and the ungrateful youth,who might fight dragons, if he chose, insists onquenching his energies in a saucepan, and makinga Saint Lawrence of himself by wasting his lifeon a series of gridirons. Ah, if I were only a man,I would do something better than that, and provethat heroes are not all dead yet. But, insteadof that, I'm only a woman, and must sit raspingmy temper with absurdities like this." And Diwrestled with her knitting as if it were Fate, andshe were paying off the grudge she owed it.