《小妇人——LITTLE WOMEN》中英文对照 完结_派派后花园

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[Novel] 《小妇人——LITTLE WOMEN》中英文对照 完结

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narcis

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一二三四五六七~~~
举报 只看楼主 使用道具 楼主   发表于: 2013-10-25 0
《小妇人——LITTLE WOMEN》中英文对照 完结
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[align=center][b][size=5]LITTLE WOMEN
小妇人[/size][/b] [/align]

[align=right]Louisa MayAlcott   路易莎· 梅· 奥尔科特 [/align]                        

[b]内容推荐[/b]
　　这部小说以家庭生活为描写对象，以家庭成员的感情纠葛为线索，描写了马奇一家的天伦之爱。马奇家的四姐妹中，无论是为了爱情甘于贫困的梅格，还是通过自己奋斗成为作家的乔，以及坦然面对死亡的贝思和以扶弱为己任的艾美，虽然她们的理想和命运都不尽相同，但是她们都具有自强自立的共同特点。描写了她们对家庭的眷恋；对爱的忠诚以及对亲情的渴望。
　　所有时代的少女成长过程中所要面对与经历的，都可以在这本书中找到：初恋的甜蜜和烦恼，感情与理智的差异，理想和现实的距离，贫穷与富有的矛盾。
　　《小妇人》故事情节简单真实，却感人至深，问世一百多年以来，多次被搬上银幕，并被译成各种文字，成为世界文学宝库中的经典名作。书中描写的种种情感体验和生活经历，都曾经、正在并将要发生在每一个少女走向成熟的过程之中；书中提倡善良、忠诚、无私、慷慨、尊严、宽容、坚韧、勇敢、亦是人类永远尊崇和追求的美德和信仰。所有这些，赋予这本书超越时代和国度的生命力，这也正是她成为不朽的经典的魅力和原因所在。

[b]作者简介[/b]
　　路易莎·梅.奥尔科特（Louisa MayAlcott，1832－1888），美国作家。1832年11月29日出生在宾夕法尼亚州的杰曼镇（Germantown）。路易莎10岁时便已热心于业余戏剧演出，15岁时写出第一部情节剧，21岁开始发表诗歌及小品。
　　1868年，一位出版商建议她写一部关于“女孩子的书”，她便根据孩提的记忆写成《小妇人》。书中把自己描写成乔·马奇，她的姐妹安娜、亚碧、伊丽莎白便分别成为梅格、艾美、贝丝。
　　书中的许多故事取材于现实生活，不过现实生活中的奥尔科特一家经济状况远不如她笔下的马奇一家。出于作者意料的是《小妇人》打动了无数美国读者，尤其是女性读者的心弦。之后，路易莎又续写了《小男人》和《乔的男孩子们》，1873年又以小说形式出版了自传著作《经验的故事》。
　　成名后，继续撰写小说和故事，并投身于妇女选举运动和禁酒运动。美国内战期间她在华盛顿做过军队救护人员，后来，她还担任过一家儿童刊物（RobertMerry's Museum ）的编辑。她于1888年3月6日在波士顿去世。
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pingjk123

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吾心安处便是吾乡
举报 只看该作者 54楼  发表于: 2020-07-03 0
这真是太棒了，谢谢楼主大人分享，辛苦了
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派克包

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我有，我可以
举报 只看该作者 53楼  发表于: 2018-11-07 0
谢谢分享
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Hello-米苏

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松花酿酒春水煎茶..
举报 只看该作者 52楼  发表于: 2018-04-26 0
这是一本很好的书，没有txt版本的吗？
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sky潋滟

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举报 只看该作者 51楼  发表于: 2016-09-25 0
谢谢分享
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海蓝见鲸。

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配偶: 树深见鹿。
举报 只看该作者 50楼  发表于: 2013-10-25 0
Thanks for your sharing.O(∩_∩)O
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narcis

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一二三四五六七~~~
举报 只看该作者 49楼  发表于: 2013-10-25 0

最后是一点我的碎碎念，本来是应该发在前面的，但是不想修改就发在这里了，前面发了两张封面图，两个都是我推荐的版本，然后呢前面的序也是推荐版本的序，但并不是我发的版本。

推荐给大家洪怡，叶宇翻译的版本，不过我没在网上找到txt格式的，于是现在发出来的为刘春英翻译的版本。

《小妇人》这文呢，其实完全可以当言情小说看，不过有个很大的坑点就是——换男主，你没看错，假如开篇你觉得谁是男主了，那么很不幸的告诉你，他将来会成为女主的妹夫，你千万不要越来越喜欢他；不过不是他变心，是女主不要他，所以你也不要讨厌他=。=

尼玛我当时看到简直毁三观阿！！！！！！

不过据说这是按作者自己的半生平写的=。=大概现实生活中那男的怎么得罪她或者什么坑爹原因不能在一起了=。=于是就这样吧~ 

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narcis

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一二三四五六七~~~
举报 只看该作者 48楼  发表于: 2013-10-25 0
Chapter Forty-seven Harvest Time

For a year Jo and her Professor worked and waited, hoped and loved, met occasionally, and wrote such voluminous letters that the rise in the price of paper was accounted for, Laurie said. The second year began rather soberly, for their prospects did not brighten, and Aunt March died suddenly. But when their first sorrow was over--for they loved the old lady in spite of her sharp tongue--they found they had cause for rejoicing, for she had left Plumfield to Jo, which made all sorts of joyful things possible.
"It's a fine old place, and will bring a handsome sum, for of course you intend to sell it," said Laurie, as they were all talking the matter over some weeks later.
"No, I don't," was Jo's decided answer, as she petted the fat poodle, whom she had adopted, out of respect to his former mistress.
"You don't mean to live there?"
"Yes, I do."
"But, my dear girl, it's an immense house, and will take a power of money to keep it in order. The garden and orchard alone need two or three men, and farming isn't in Bhaer's line, I take it."
"He'll try his hand at it there, if I propose it."
"And you expect to live on the produce of the place? Well, that sounds paradisiacal, but you'll find it desperate hard work."
"The crop we are going to raise is a profitable one," And Jo laughed.
"Of what is this fine crop to consist, ma'am?"
"Boys. I want to open a school for little lads--a good, happy, homelike school, with me to take care of them and Fritz to teach them."
"That's a truly Joian plan for you! Isn't that just like her?" cried Laurie, appealing to the family, who looked as much surprised as he.
"I like it," said Mrs. March decidedly.
"So do I," added her husband, who welcomed the thought of a chance for trying the Socratic method of education on modern youth.
"It will be an immense care for Jo," said Meg, stroking the head or her one all-absorbing son.
"Jo can do it, and be happy in it. It's a splendid idea.
Tell us all about it," cried Mr. Laurence, who had been longing to lend the lovers a hand, but knew that they would refuse his help.
"I knew you'd stand by me, sir. Amy does too--I see it in her eyes, though she prudently waits to turn it over in her mind before she speaks. Now, my dear people," continued Jo earnestly, "just understand that this isn't a new idea of mine, but a long cherished plan. Before my Fritz came, I used to think how, when I'd made my fortune, and no one needed me at home, I'd hire a big house, and pick up some poor, forlorn little lads who hadn't any mothers, and take care of them, and make life jolly for them before it was too late. I see so many going to ruin for want of help at the right minute, I love so to do anything for them, I seem to feel their wants, and sympathize with their troubles, an oh, I should so like to be a mother to them!"

Mrs. March held out her hand to Jo, who took it, smiling, with tears in her eyes, and went on in the old enthusiastic way, which they had not seen for a long while.

"I told my plan to Fritz once, and he said it was just what he would like, and agreed to try it when we got rich. Bless his dear heart, he's been doing it all his life--helping poor boys, I mean, not getting rich, that he'll never be. Money doesn't stay in his pocket long enough to lay up any. But now, thanks to my good old aunt, who loved me better than I ever deserved, I'm rich, at least I feel so, and we can live at Plumfield perfectly well, if we have a flourishing school. It's just the place for boys, the house is big, and the furniture strong and plain. There's plenty of room for dozens inside, and splendid grounds outside.
They could help in the garden and orchard. Such work is healthy, isn't it, sir? Then Fritz could train and teach in his own way, and Father will help him. I can feed and nurse and pet and scold them, and Mother will be my stand-by. I've always longed for lots of boys, and never had enough, now I can fill the house full and revel in the little dears to my heart's content. Think what luxury--
Plumfield my own, and a wilderness of boys to enjoy it with me."
As Jo waved her hands and gave a sigh of rapture, the family went off into a gale of merriment, and Mr. Laurence laughed till they thought he'd have an apoplectic fit.

"I don't see anything funny," she said gravely, when she could be heard. "Nothing could be more natural and proper than for my Professor to open a school, and for me to prefer to reside in my own estate."

"She is putting on airs already," said Laurie, who regarded the idea in the light of a capital joke. "But may I inquire how you intend to support the establishment? If all the pupils are little ragamuffins, I'm afraid your crop won't be profitable in a worldly sense, Mr. Bhaer."

"Now don't be a wet-blanket, Teddy. Of course I shall have rich pupils, also--perhaps begin with such altogether. Then, when I've got a start, I can take in a ragamuffin or two, just for a relish. Rich people's children often need care and comfort, as well as poor. I've seen unfortunate little creatures left to servants, or backward ones pushed forward, when it's real cruelty.
Some are naughty through mismanagment or neglect, and some lose their mothers. Besides, the best have to get through the hobbledehoy age, and that's the very time they need most patience and kindness. People laugh at them, and hustle them about, try to keep them out of sight, and expect them to turn all at once from pretty children into fine young men. They don't complain much--
plucky little souls--but they feel it. I've been through some- thing of it, and I know all about it. I've a special interest in such young bears, and like to show them that I see the warm, honest, well-meaning boys' hearts, in spite of the clumsy arms and legs and the topsy-turvy heads. I've had experience, too, for haven't I brought up one boy to be a pride and honor to his family?"

"I'll testify that you tried to do it," said Laurie with a grateful look.

"And I've succeeded beyond my hopes, for here you are, a steady, sensible businessman, doing heaps of good with your
money, and laying up the blessings of the poor, instead of dollars.
But you are not merely a businessman, you love good and beautiful things, enjoy them yourself, and let others go halves, as you always did in the old times. I am proud of you, Teddy, for you get better every year, and everyone feels it, though you won't let them say so. Yes, and when I have my flock, I'll just point to you, and say `There's your model, my lads'."

Poor Laurie didn't know where to look, for, man though he was, something of the old bashfulness came over him as this burst of praise made all faces turn approvingly upon him.

"I say, Jo, that's rather too much," he began, just in his old boyish way. "You have all done more for me than I can ever thank you for, except by doing my best not to disapoint you. You have rather cast me off lately, Jo, but I've had the best of help, nevertheless. So, if I've got on at all, you may thank these two for it." And he laid one hand gently on his grandfather's head, and the other on Amy's golden one, for the three were never far apart.

"I do think that families are the most beautiful things in all the world!" burst out Jo, who was in an unusually up-lifted frame of mind just then. "When I have one of my own, I hope it will be as happy as the three I know and love the best. If John and my Fritz were only here, it would be quite a little heaven on earth," she added more quietly. And that night when she went to her room after a blissful evening of family counsels, hopes, and plans, her heart was so full of happiness that she could only calm it by kneeling beside the empty bed always near her own, and thinking tender thoughts of Beth.
It was a very astonishing year altogether, for things seemed to happen in an unusually rapid and delightful manner. Almost before she knew where she was, Jo found herself married and settled at Plumfield. Then a family of six or seven boys sprung up like mushrooms, and flourished surprisingly, poor boys as well as rich, for Mr. Laurence was continually finding some touching case of destitution, and begging the Bhaers to take pity on the child, and he would gladly pay a trifle for its support. In this way, the sly old gentleman got round proud Jo, and furnished her with the style of boy in which she most delighted.

Of course it was uphill work at first, and Jo made queer mistakes, but the wise Professor steered her safely into calmer waters, and the most rampant ragamuffin was conquered in the end. How Jo did enjoy her `wilderness of boys', and how poor, dear Aunt March would have lamented had she been there to see the sacred precincts of prim, well-ordered Plumfield overrun with Toms, Dicks, and Harrys! There was a sort of poetic justice about it, after all, for the old lady had been the terror of the boys for miles around, and now the exiles feasted freely on forbidden plums, kicked up the gravel with profane boots unreproved, and played cricket in the big field where the irritable `cow with a crumpled horn' used to invite rash youths to come and be tossed. It became a sort of boys' paradise, and Laurie suggested that it should be called the `Bhaer-garten', as a compliment to its master and appropriate to its inhabitants.

It never was a fashionable school, and the Professor did not lay up a fortune, but it was just what Jo intended it to be-- `a happy, homelike place for boys, who needed teaching, care, and kindness'. Every room in the big house was soon full. Every little plot in the garden soon had its owner. A regular menagerie appeared in barn and shed, for pet animals were allowed. And three times a day, Jo smiled at her Fritz from the head of a long table lined on either side with rows of happy young faces, which all turned to her with affectionate eyes, confiding words, and grateful hearts, full of love for `Mother Bhaer'. She had boys enough now, and did not tire of them, though they were not angels, by any means, and some of them caused both Professor and Professorin much trouble and anxiety. But her faith in the good spot which exists in the heart of the naughtiest, sauciest, most tantalizing little ragamuffin gave her patience, skill, and in time success, for no mortal boy could hold out long with Father Bhaer shining on him as benevolently as the sun, and Mother Bhaer forgiving him seventy times seven. Very precious to Jo was the friendship of the lads, their penitent sniffs and whispers after wrongdoing, their droll or touching little confidences, their pleasant enthusiasms, hopes, and plans, even their misfortunes, for they only endeared them to her all the more. There were slow boys and bashful boys, feeble boys and riotous boys, boys that lisped and boys that stuttered, one or two lame ones, and a merry little quadroon, who could not be taken in elsewhere, but who was welcome to the `Bhaer-garten', though some people predicted that his admission would ruin the school.

Yes, Jo was a very happy woman there, in spite of hard work, much anxiety, and a perpetual racket. She enjoyed it heartily and found the applause of her boys more satisfying than any praise of the world, for now she told no stories except to her flock of enthusiastic believers and admirers. As the years went on, two little lads of her own came to increase her happiness--Rob, named for Grandpa, and Teddy, a happy-go-lucky baby, who seemed to have inherited his papa's sunshiny temper as well as his mother's lively spirit. How they ever grew up alive in that whirlpool of boys was a mystery to their grandma and aunts, but they flourished like dandelions in spring, and their rough nurses loved and served them well.

There were a great many holidays at Plumfield, and one of the most delightful was the yearly apple-picking. For then the Marches, Laurences, Brookes. And Bhaers turned out in full force and made a day of it. Five years after Jo's wedding, one of these fruitful festivals occurred, a mellow October day, when the air was full of an exhilarating freshness which made the spirits rise and the blood dance healthily in the veins. The old orchard wore its holiday attire. Goldenrod and asters fringed the mossy walls. Grasshoppers skipped briskly in the sere grass, and crickets chirped like fairy pipers at a feast. Squirrels were busy with their small harvesting. Birds twittered their adieux from the alders in the lane, and every tree stood ready to send down its shower of red or yellow apples at the first shake. Everybody was there.
Everybody laughed and sang, climbed up and tumbled down. Everybody declared that there never had been such a perfect day or such a jolly set to enjoy it, and everyone gave themselves up to the simple pleasures of the hour as freely as if there were no such things as care or sorrow in the world.

Mr. March strolled placidly about, quoting Tusser, Cowley, and Columella to Mr. Laurence, while enjoying...

The gentle apple's winey juice.

The Professor charged up and down the green aisles like a stout Teutonic knight, with a pole for a lance, leading on the boys, who made a hook and ladder company of themselves, and performed wonders in the way of ground and lofty tumbling. Laurie devoted himself to the little ones, rode his small daughter in a bushel-basket, took Daisy up among the bird's nests, and kept adventurous Rob from breaking his neck. Mrs. March and Meg sat among the apple piles like a pair of Pomonas, sorting the contributions that kept pouring in, while Amy with a beautiful motherly expression in her face sketched the various groups, and watched over one pale lad, who sat adoring her with his little crutch beside him.

Jo was in her element that day, and rushed about, with her gown pinned up, and her hat anywhere but on her head, and her baby tucked under her arm, ready for any lively adventure which might turn up. Little Teddy bore a charmed life, for nothing ever happened to him, and Jo never felt any anxiety when he was whisked up into a tree by one lad, galloped off on the back of another, or supplied with sour russets by his indulgent papa, who labored under the Germanic delusion that babies could digest anything, from pickled cabbage to buttons, nails, and their own small shoes. She knew that little Ted would turn up again in time, safe and rosy, dirty and serene, and she always received him back with a hearty welcome, for Jo loved her babies tenderly.

At four o'clock a lull took place, and baskets remained empty, while the apple pickers rested and compared rents and bruises. Then Jo and Meg, with a detachment of the bigger boys, set forth the supper on the grass, for an out-of-door tea was always the crowning joy of the day. The land literally flowed with milk and honey on such occasions, for the lads were not required to sit at table, but allowed to partake of refreshment as they liked--freedom being the sauce best beloved by the boyish soul. They availed themselves of the rare privilege to the fullest extent, for some tried the pleasing experiment of drinking mild while standing on their heads, others lent a charm to leapfrog by eating pie in the pauses of the game, cookies were sown broadcast over the field, and apple turnovers roosted in the trees like a new style of bird. The little girls had a private tea party, and Ted roved among the edibles at his own sweet will.

When no one could eat any more, the Professor proposed the first regular toast, which was always drunk at such times--"Aunt March, God bless her!" A toast heartily given by the good man, who never forgot how much he owed her, and quietly drunk by the boys, who had been taught to keep her memory green.

"Now, Grandma's sixtieth birthday! Long life to her, with three times three!"

That was given with a will, as you may well believe, and the cheering once begun, it was hard to stop it. Everybody's health was proposed, form Mr. Laurence, who was considered their special patron, to the astonished guinea pig, who had strayed from its proper sphere in search of its young master. Demi, as the oldest grandchild, then presented the queen of the day with various gifts, so numerous that they were transported to the festive scene in a wheelbarrow. Funny presents, some of them, but what would have been defects to other eyes were ornaments to Grandma's--for the children's gifts were all their own. Every stitch Daisy's patient little fingers had put into the handkerchiefs she hemmed was better than embroidery to Mrs. March. Demi's miracle of mechanical skill, though the cover wouldn't shut, Rob's footstool had a wiggle in its uneven legs that she declared was soothing, and no page of the costly book Amy's child gave her was so fair as that on which appeared in tipsy capitals, the words--
"To dear Grandma, from her little Beth." During the ceremony the boys had mysteriously disappeared, and when Mrs. March had tried to thank her children, and broken down, while Teddy wiped her eyes on his pinafore, the Professor suddenly began to sing. Then, from above him, voice after voice took up the words, and from tree to tree echoed the music of the unseen choir, as the boys sang with all their hearts the little song that Jo had written, Laurie set to music, and the Professor trained his lads to give with the best effect. This was something altogether new, and it proved a grand success, for Mrs. March couldn't get over her surprise, and insisted on shaking hands with every one of the featherless birds, from tall Franz and Emil to the little quadroon, who had the sweetest voice of all.
After this, the boys dispersed for a final lark, leaving Mrs. March and her daughters under the festival tree.
"I don't think I ever ought to call myself `unlucky Jo' again, when my greatest wish has been so beautifully gratified," said Mrs. Bhaer, taking Teddy's little fist out of the milk pitcher, in which he was rapturously churning.
"And yet your life is very different from the one you pictured so long ago. Do you remember our castles in the air?" asked Amy, smiling as she watched Laurie and John playing cricket with the boys.

"Dear fellows! It does my heart good to see them forget business and frolic for a day," answered Jo, who now spoke in a maternal way of all mankind. "Yes, I remember, but the life I wanted then seems selfish, lonely, and cold to me now. I haven't given up the hope that I may write a good book yet, but I can wait, and I'm sure it will be all the better for such experiences and illustrations as these." And Jo pointed from the lively lads in the distance to her father, leaning on the Professor's arm, as they walked to and fro in the sunshine, deep in one of the conversations which both enjoyed so much, and then to her mother, sitting enthroned among her daughters, with their children in her lap and at her feet, as if all found help and happiness in the face which never could grow old to them.
"My castle was the most nearly realized of all. I asked for splendid things, to be sure, but in my heart I knew I should be satisfied, if I had a little home, and John, and some dear children like these. I've got them all, thank God, and am the happiest woman in the world." And Meg laid her hand on her tall boy's head, with a face full of tender and devout content.

"My castle is very different from what I planned, but I would not alter it, though, like Jo, I don't relinquish all my artistic hopes, or confine myself to helping others fulfill their dreams of beauty. I've begun to model a figure of baby, and Laurie says it is the best thing I've ever done. I think so, myself, and mean to do it in marble, so that, whatever happens, I may at least keep the image of my little angel."

As Amy spoke, a great tear dropped on the golden hair of the sleeping child in her arms, for her one well-beloved daughter was a frail little creature and the dread of losing her was the shadow over Amy's sunshine. This cross was doing much for both father and mother, for one love and sorrow bound them closely together. Amy's nature was growing sweeter, deeper, and more tender. Laurie was growing more serious, strong, and firm, and both were learning that beauty, youth, good fortune, even love itself, cannot keep care and pain, loss and sorrow, from the most blessed for ...
Into each life some rain must fall, Some days must be dark and sad and dreary.
"She is growing better, I am sure of it, my dear. Don't despond, but hope and keep happy," said Mrs. March, as tenderhearted Daisy stooped from her knee to lay her rosy cheek against her little cousin's pale one.
"I never ought to, while I have you to cheer me up, Marmee, and Laurie to take more than half of every burden," replied Amy warmly. "He never lets me see his anxiety, but is so sweet and patient with me, so devoted to Beth, and such a stay and comfort to me always that I can't love him enough. So, in spite of my one cross, I can say with Meg, `Thank God, I'm a happy woman.'"
"There's no need for me to say it, for everyone can see that I'm far happier than I deserve," added Jo, glancing from her good husband to her chubby children, tumbling on the grass beside her. "Fritz is getting gray and stout. I'm growing as thin as a shadow, and am thirty. We never shall be rich, and Plumfield may burn up any night, for that incorrigible Tommy Bangs will smoke sweet-fern cigars under the bed-clothes, though he's set himself afire three times already. But in spite of these unromantic facts, I have nothing to complain of, and never was so jolly in my life. Excuse the remark, but living among boys, I can't help using their expressions now and then."
"Yes, Jo, I think your harvest will be a good one," beganMrs. March, frightening away a big black cricket that was staring Teddy out of countenance.
"Not half so good as yours, Mother. Here it is, and we never can thank you enough for the patient sowing and reaping you have done," cried Jo, with the loving impetuosity which she never would outgrow.
"I hope there will be more wheat and fewer tares every year," said Amy softly.
"A large sheaf, but I know there's room in your heart for it, Marmee dear," added Meg's tender voice.
Touched to the heart, Mrs. March could only stretch out her arms, as if to gather children and grandchildren to herself, and say, with face and voice full of motherly love, gratitude, and humility...
"Oh, my girls, however long you may live, I never can wish you a greater happiness than this!"



第四十七章 收获季节

　　有一年光景，乔和教授工作着，等待着，希望着。他们谈情说爱，偶尔相会。他们写了那么多的情书，以致一时洛阳纸贵，劳里如是说。第二年开始冷静些了，因为他们还未见到光明的前景，马奇婶婶也突然过世了。他们最初的悲痛过去后--虽然老太太尖酸刻薄，他们还是爱她的--他们有理由高兴起来，因为她将梅园遗留给了乔，这使得种种欢乐之事成为可能。
　　"那是个很不错的老庄园，会带来大笔进项的，你肯定会打算卖掉它，"劳里这么说。
　　"不，我不卖，"乔决然回答。她抚弄着那只肥壮的长卷毛狗。出于对它原先的女主人的尊重，乔领养了它。
　　"你不是说要住在那儿吧？"
　　"是的，我要住那儿去。"
　　"可是，我亲爱的姑娘，那是间非常大的宅子，管理它要很多很多的钱。光是花园和果园就得两三个人照看。我想巴尔对农活也不在行。""要是我这么提议，他会在那方面努力的。""你期待靠那里的农产品过活？嗯，听起来其乐无穷，可你会发现农活非常艰苦。""我们打算种的庄稼是有利可图的。"乔笑了起来。
　　"什么样的庄稼这么让你心驰神往，夫人？""男孩子，我想为小孩子们办一个学校--一个愉快的、家庭般的好学校。我来照顾他们，弗里茨教他们。""那可真是乔式计划！这不正是她的风格吗？"劳里听着，向其他家庭成员吁求赞同。他们和他一样吃惊不已。
　　"我喜欢那个计划，"马奇太太决然说道。
　　"我也喜欢，"她丈夫补充道。想到有机会对现代青年试行苏格拉底的教育法，他便十分赞同了。
　　"这对乔是个很大的牵累，"梅格说，一边抚摸儿子的头，儿子正全神贯注地听着。
　　"乔能这么做的，她会为之幸福，这是个绝妙的主意。把一切都告诉我们吧，"劳伦斯叫道。他一直渴望帮这对情侣的忙，可是他知道他们会拒绝他的帮助。
　　"我知道你会支持我的，先生。艾美也会的--我从她的眼神看出来了，虽然她小心谨慎，三思而后行。好啦，我亲爱的人们，"乔认真地说道，"你们得理解这不是我一时心血来潮，而是酝酿已久的计划。在弗里茨来之前，我常想着，等我发了财，家里又没人需要我时，我就去租间大房子，收养那些没有母亲照顾的、可怜的小弃儿，让他们的生活及时得到改善。我看到许多弃儿因为得不到适时的帮助而走向堕落。
　　我非常乐意为他们做些事情。我似乎能感觉到他们的需要，我同情他们的烦恼。哦，我是多么地希望做他们的母亲啊！"马奇太太向乔伸出了手，乔也握住妈妈的手。她热泪盈眶了，脸上却挂着笑。她像以前那样热情洋溢地说起话来。她们已很长时间没有看到她这样热烈的情绪了。
　　"我曾经将我的计划告诉过弗里茨，他说那正是他想做的，他同意等我富裕了就着手去做。上帝保佑那好心人！他一生都在这么做--我是说，他帮助穷孩子们，自己富不起来，将来也决富不了。钱在他的袋子里搁不长，积蓄不起来，而现在多亏了我那善良的老婶子，我不配得到她这样的爱。我富有了，至少我这样认为。要是我们成功地开办一个学校，我们能在梅园生活得相当不错。那地方正适合男孩子们，宅子很大，家具既结实又简单。有许多屋子可容下十几个孩子，屋外有非常好的场地。孩子们能在花园和果园帮忙：这样的工作有益健康，是不是，先生？而且弗里茨可以用他的方式训练、教育孩子们。爸爸会帮弗里茨的。我可以照顾他们的饮食起居，爱抚他们，管教他们，妈妈会支持我的。我一直盼望能有许多孩子，尽情和这些可爱的小东西们狂欢作乐。想想那是什么样的享受！--我拥有了梅园，还有一大群孩子和我一起共享田庄！"乔兴奋地手舞足蹈，全家人爆发了一阵欢笑。劳伦斯先生大笑着，使得他们担心他会笑出中风来。
　　"我看不出有什么好笑的，"笑声停止时，乔神情严肃地说，"我的教授开办学校，而我宁愿住在我自己的田庄，没有什么比这更自然、更适当的了。""她已经摆出架子了，"劳里说。他把这个想法当成了一个天大的笑话。"我可以请教你打算用什么来维持学校呢？要是所有的学生都是流浪儿，用世俗的观点来看，我恐怕你的庄稼不会有利可图的，巴尔夫人。""哎呀，特迪，别扫兴，我当然也会收些有钱的学生--也许就像那样开始，然后等到学校开起来了，我就能收下一两个流浪儿，只为增添兴趣。富人的孩子和穷人的孩子一样，也需要照顾和安慰。我见过一些不幸的小东西们，他们被丢给仆人管。还有些迟钝的孩子被逼着上进。这真是残忍。一些孩子因为调教不当或被忽视而变得不规矩，还有些孩子失去了母亲。而且，即使是最好的孩子也要经过少年时期，那一时期最需要人们耐心友善地对待他们。可是，人们嘲笑他们，粗暴地对待他们，尽量地让他们处于视线之外，人们期望着他们突然从小孩子一变而成气质优良的大小伙子。他们极少抱怨--这些胆大的小东西们--但是他们有感觉的。
　　我见识过，完全了解。对这些小莽汉们我特别有兴趣，我想让他们知道，尽管他们笨手笨脚，头脑不清，我看出这些男孩子们心地善良、热情、诚实。我也有过经验，难道我不是教育了一个男孩，使他的家人为之感到自豪、光荣吗？""我作证你作出过那样的努力，"劳里带着感激的神情说。
　　"而且，我的成功超出我所预料的，因为，瞧你，一个稳重、精明的商人，用你的钱财做了大量的好事。你不是在积蓄美元，而是在积蓄穷人的祝福。你不仅仅是个商人，你崇尚善美之事，并享有其中的乐趣，你让别人分享你一半的财富，就像过去常做的那样。特迪，我真为你骄傲，你日见长进，虽然你不让大家说，但大家都感到了这一点。是的，等我有了一群孩子，我就会指着你对他们说：'孩子们，那就是你们的榜样。'"可怜的劳里眼睛不知往哪儿看了，因为这一阵赞扬使得所有的脸都转向他，大家赞许地看着他，他又产生了以前那种羞怯。
　　"我说，乔，那太过分了，"他又以从前那种男孩气语调开了腔，"你是为我做了许多，我无法感激你，只能尽力不让你失望。最近你完全抛弃我了，乔，可我还是得到了最好的帮助，所以，要说我有什么长进，你得感谢这两位。"他一只手轻轻地放在爷爷花白的头上，另一只手放在艾美的金发上，这三个人从来离不开多远。
　　"我真的认为世界上最美好的事就是家庭！"乔脱口而出。
　　此时她的精神异常高涨。"我自己成了家后，希望和另外三个家庭一样幸福。我了解也非常喜欢那三个家庭，要是约翰和弗里茨也在这里，那真是地球上的一个小天堂，"她接着说道，声音放低了些。那天晚上，一家人快活地谈论着家庭计划、希望、打算，乔回到自己的房间时，心中溢满了幸福。她跪在一直靠近自己的那张空床边，柔情万端地想着贝思，以此平静自己的心情。
　　那一年过得令人非常吃惊，事情似乎发生得非同寻常地迅速顺利。乔几乎还没有反应过来是怎么回事，就已经结了婚，在梅园安顿了下来，接着，六七个小男孩如雨后春笋般地冒出来，学校办得火红，令人惊奇。学生们有穷孩子，也有富孩子，因为，劳伦斯先生不断地发现引人怜悯的贫穷人家，恳求巴尔夫妇可怜孩子，而他会高兴地付些钱加以资助。
　　有心的老先生用这种方式智胜了高傲的乔，为她带来了她心愿所系的那些孩子。
　　这工作开始时自然费力，乔犯着莫名其妙的错误，然而，教授安全地将她引进平静的水面，最不受管束的流浪儿，最终也被征服了。乔是多么地欣赏她的"男孩荒野"啊！梅园以前干干净净，井然有序，如今，大批的汤姆们、迪克们、哈里们出没于这片神圣的领地。要是那可敬可怜的马奇婶婶看到这一切，她老人家会怎样地悲叹啊！然而，毕竟这事情中还有某种劝善惩恶的成份，因为方园几里路之内的男孩子们都非常害怕老太太，现在小亡命者们无拘无束地大吃着禁果李子，不受责骂地用肮脏的靴子踢着砾石，在大空场地上玩着板球，而以前那儿有着易怒的"有着弯角的牛"，吸引着鲁莽的小家伙们过去，被牛角挑起。如今这里成了这种男孩子的天堂。劳里建议它应叫作"巴尔花院"，这对主人是种赞扬，对居住在这里的人们来说比喻贴切。
　　学校决不赶时尚，教授也没积蓄其钱财，但是正像乔计划的那样--"对那些需要教导、照料、爱抚的男孩子们，这个地方幸福，像家一样。"很快，大宅子里每间屋子都满了，花园里每一小块地都有了主人，仓库与棚屋里出现了定期的动物展览，因为允许他们养宠物。一天三次，乔坐在长餐桌的一端向她的弗里茨笑着，桌子两边各坐着一排幸福的孩子，他们都很有感情地看着她，他们对"巴尔妈妈"吐露知心话，对她心存感激，充满爱恋。现在，她有足够的男孩子了，她从不厌烦他们，虽然他们决不是天使，有些孩子使教授及夫人大伤脑筋。但是，她相信，即使在最淘气、最莽撞、最让应为花园：巴尔英语发音不标准，劳里是在模仿他的发音。
　　人烦心的小流浪儿们身上也有优点，这给了她耐心、技巧，最终使她成功。巴尔爸爸像太阳一样亲切地照耀着他们，巴尔妈妈一天要宽恕他们七七四十九次，在这种情况下，只要那男孩是凡人，就不可能顽抗到底。这些孩子们对她的友谊，他们干了坏事后悔罪时鼻子的抽齐声和低声说话声，他们有趣又感人的小秘密话，他们可爱的热情、希望和计划，甚至他们的不幸，这些对乔来说都是非常珍贵的，因为那使她更加喜爱他们。这些男孩子们有的迟钝，有的腼腆；有的虚弱，有的闹人；有的孩子说话口齿不清，有的说话结结巴巴；有一两个孩子跛腿；还有一个快乐的小混血儿，别的地方都不接受他，而"巴尔花院"却欢迎他，尽管有些人预料接受他会毁了这学校。
　　的确，尽管工作繁忙，焦虑重重，还有永无止境的忙乱，乔在那里是个幸福的妇人。她由衷地欣赏这一切，她感到男孩们对她的称颂要比世间任何赞扬都更令人满意。现在，她只对她一群热情的信徒及敬慕者讲故事。随着岁月的流逝，她自己的两个孩子出世了，为她增添了幸福--罗布，以爷爷的名字命名；特迪，一个无忧无虑的小家伙，他似乎继承了爸爸快活的脾气、妈妈旺盛的精神。在那一群混乱的男孩堆里，他们怎样能活泼地成长，这始终是奶奶和几个姨的一个谜。然而，他们如同春天的蒲公英茁壮成长。那些粗鲁的保姆们很爱他们，对他们照顾得也很好。
　　梅园有许许多多节假日，最愉快的节日便是每年一度摘苹果的时候。那时，马奇夫妇、劳伦斯夫妇、布鲁克夫妇，还有巴尔夫妇全体出动，干上一整天。乔结婚五年后，又到了那天，乔如鱼得水。她用针别起了身上的长袍，帽子压根儿没戴在头上。她胳膊下夹着儿子，四处奔着，随时准备应付可能出现的惊险事件。小特迪有刀熗不入的能耐，他没发生过任何事情。乔从来没担心过他，无论是他被一个男孩一下弄上树去，还是另一个男孩驮着他飞跑开去，还是当他那溺爱的爸爸给他吃酸味的冬季粗苹果时，她都不担心。他爸爸带有日耳曼人的幻想，认为孩子们能消化任何东西，从腌菜到钮扣、钉子，还有他们的小鞋。他知道她的小特迪最后总会安然无恙，面色红润，脏兮兮却静悄悄地出现的，她总是热情欢迎他回来，乔百般柔情地爱她的孩子们。
　　四点时，劳动暂停。篮子空了，摘苹果的人休息了，他们互相比着衣服的撕裂处和身上的擦伤。乔，梅格，还有一支大男孩组成的小分队，在草地上摆着晚餐。这顿户外茶点总是这一天最快乐的时分。在这种场合，不夸张地说，地上流淌着牛奶与蜂蜜，因为，他们不要孩子们坐在桌边吃，而是允许他们随意吃茶点--这种自由是个刺激，男孩子们心中热爱它。他们最大限度地充分利用了这个难得的特权。一些孩子做着有趣的实验，倒立着喝牛奶，另一些孩子做着蛙跳游戏，中间停顿时便吃着馅饼，使游戏更有诱惑力。饼干撒遍了田野，吃了一半的苹果栖息在树上，像是一种新的鸟类。小女孩们私下开着茶会，小特迪在能吃的东西之间随心所欲地徘徊着。
　　大家都再也吃不下东西了，这时，教授第一次正式提议干杯，在这种时候总是要干杯的--"马奇婶婶，上帝保佑她！"那好人由衷地敬酒。他决忘不了他欠老太太太多。男孩子们静静地喝干酒。他们一直受着教诲：脑中常记老太太。
　　"现在，为奶奶六十岁生日干杯！祝她长寿，三呼万岁！"这是由衷的提议，读者完全可以相信。他们又一次开始欢呼起来，很难止祝他们为每个人的健康都干了杯，从劳伦斯先生到那只吃惊的豚鼠--劳伦斯先生被视为他们特别的恩主，而那只豚鼠离开它适当的属地来寻找它的小主人。然后，德米作为长孙，向当天的女人赠送各种礼品。礼品太多了，只好用独轮手推车运到喜庆场地。一些礼品很好笑，然而，在别人眼里看来有瑕疵的东西，奶奶看着都能用作装饰品--孩子们的礼品都是他们自己制作的。黛西的小手指耐心地为手帕镶了边，那一针一线在马奇太太看来都比刺绣的要好；德米的鞋盒子是机械技艺的奇迹，虽然那盒子盖不上；罗布的脚凳腿扭动着立不稳定，她却说令人舒服；艾美的孩子送给她的书上用大写字母东倒西歪地写着--"赠亲爱的奶奶，她的小贝思。"任何贵重的书都不及这本书好。
　　在赠礼仪式进行中间，那帮男孩子神秘地消失不见了。马奇太太想感谢她的孙儿孙女们，却感动得不能自持，小特迪用他的围裙为奶奶擦去泪水。教授突然开始唱了起来。于是，从他们头上方，不同的声音接上了歌词，一颗颗树间回荡着看不见的合唱队的歌声。男孩子们诚心诚意地唱着。这支小歌是乔写的词，劳里谱的曲，教授训练孩子们唱的。在这个场合演唱效果极佳。这真是一件新鲜事，结果大获成功，马奇太太遏制不住惊喜，她坚持要和每一只没有父亲的鸟儿握手，从高个儿的弗朗兹和埃米尔到那小混血儿，这些孩子们声音非常甜美动听。
　　这一切结束后，孩子们四下散开去做最后的嬉戏，马奇太太和女儿们留在节日的树下。
　　"我想，我不应该再把自己叫做'不幸的乔'了，我最大的愿望已经这样美妙地得到了满足，"巴尔太太说着，一边将小特迪的小拳头拽出了牛奶罐，她正兴高采烈地用手在罐里搅和着呢。"可是，你的生活和你很久以前想象的大不相同，你可记得我们的空中楼阁？"艾美问道。她看着劳里和约翰在和孩子们玩着板球。
　　"亲爱的人们！看到他们忘掉事务嬉耍一天，真让我高兴，"乔回答。她现在说话带上了人类母亲式的慈爱口气。
　　"是的，我记得。可是我那时向往的生活现在看来似乎自私、孤寂、清冷。然而，我并没有放弃写本好书的希望，我可以等待，我确信我生活里有了这样的经验和例证，书会写得更好。"乔指着远处蹦蹦跳跳的孩子们，又指指爸爸。爸爸倚着教授的胳膊，两人在阳光里正走来走去，热烈地谈着什么两人都非常感兴趣的话题。乔接着指了指坐在那里的妈妈。女儿们崇敬地围绕着她。她膝上、脚边坐着她的孙儿孙女，好像大家都从她那儿得到了帮助和幸福，她那张脸在他们看来永远不会衰老。
　　"我的空想几乎都实现了，的确，我那时希求美好的事物，但是，我心中知道，假如我有一个小家，有约翰和一些这样可爱的孩子，我就应该满足了。我得到了这一切，感谢上帝。
　　我是世上最幸福的女人。"梅格将手放在她的高个子儿子的头上，脸上的表情充满温柔与虔诚的满足。
　　"我的楼阁和我的计划完全两样。但是，我不会像乔那样更改的。我没放弃我所有的艺术希望，也没把自己局限于帮助别人实现美梦。我已经开始制作一个孩子塑像。劳里说那是我做的最好的一件。我自己也这么认为。我打算用大理石制作。这样不管发生什么事，至少我可以保留我的小天使的形象。"艾美说着，一大滴泪珠落在了睡在她臂弯里的孩子的金发上，她深深爱着的这个女儿，弱不经风，失去她的担心是艾美幸福生活中的阴影，这个不幸对父亲母亲都有很大影响，因为爱情与痛苦把两个人紧密地联结在一起。艾美的性情变得更加甜美、深沉、温柔，劳里变得更加严肃、强舰坚强。
　　两个人都懂得了，美貌、青春、好运，甚至爱情自身都不能使幸运的人免于焦虑、疼痛、损失与痛苦，因为--每个人生活中都会有不幸的雨点落下，一些日子会变得黑暗、哀伤、凄凉。
　　"她身体有起色了呢，我确信这一点，亲爱的，别灰心，要有希望，要保持快乐，"马奇太太说道。心地温和的黛西从奶奶膝上俯过身去，将她红润的脸颊贴在了小表妹苍白的脸颊上。
　　"我根本就不应灰心，我有你鼓励，妈咪，有劳里承担一大半负担，"艾美热情地说，"他从不让我看出他的焦虑。他对我那么温柔、耐心，对小贝思又是那么尽心。这对我来说总是很大的支持与安慰，我怎么爱他都不过分。所以，尽管我有这个不幸，我还是能像梅格那样说：'感谢上帝，我是个幸福的女人。'""我没有必要再说了。大家都看得出来，我得到的幸福远远超过了我应享有的，"乔接着说。她扫视她的好丈夫和在她身边草地上翻滚着的胖孩子们。"弗里茨越来越老，越来越胖了，而我像个影子日渐消瘦了。我已经三十岁了，我们根本富不起来！梅园说不上哪天夜里会给烧掉，因为那个不肯改悔的汤米·邦斯非要在被褥下抽香蕨木烟。他已经三次烧着了自己。可是尽管有这些不太浪漫的事情，我也没什么可抱怨的了，我一生中从来没有像这样快活过。请原谅我的措辞。
　　和那些男孩们生活在一起，我时不时禁不住用他们的表述法。""是的，乔，我想，你将会有个好收成的，"马奇太太开口说，她吓走了一只大黑蟋蟀。它盯着小特迪看，吓得他脸上变了色。
　　"收获没你的一半好，妈妈。你看，你耐心地播下种子，然后收获，为此我们怎么也谢不够你，"乔带着她那可爱的急躁叫道。她的急躁年龄再大也改不了。
　　"我希望，每年多一些麦子，少一些稗子，"艾美轻轻地说。
　　"一大捆麦子，但是我知道，你心里有地方装下它的，亲爱的妈咪，"梅格语调温柔地补充道。
　　马奇太太深深地感动了。她只能伸开双臂，仿佛要把她的儿孙们搂抱过来。她的表情和声音里都充满了母亲的慈爱、感谢与谦让--"哦，我的姑娘们，不管你们今后怎样，我想，没有什么比这更能给你们巨大的幸福了！"

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Chapter Forty-six Under the Umberella

While Laurie and Amy were taking conjugal strolls over velvet carpets, as they set their house in order, and planned a blissful future, Mr. Bhaer and Jo were enjoying promenades of a different sort, along muddy roads and sodden fields.

"I always do take a walk toward evening, and I don't know why I should give it up, just because I happen to meet the Professor on his way out," said Jo to herself, after two or three encounters, for though there were two paths to Meg's whichever one she took she was sure to meet him., either going or returning.
He was always walking rapidly, and never seemed to see her until quite close, when he would look as if his short-sighted eyes had failed to recognize the approaching lady till that moment. Then, if she was going to Meg's he always had something for the babies. If her face was turned homeward, he had merely strolled down to see the river, and was just returning, unless they were tired of his frequent calls.

Under the circumstances, what could Jo do but greet him civilly, and invite him in? If she was tired of his visits, she concealed her weariness with perfect skill, and took care that there should be coffee for supper, "as Friedrich--I mean Mr. Bhaer--doesn't like tea."

By the second week, everyone knew perfectly well what was going on, yet everyone tried to look as if they were stone-blind to the changes in Jo's face. They never asked why she sang about her work, did up her hair three times a day, and got so blooming with her evening exercise. And no one seemed to have the slightest suspicion that Professor Bhaer, while talking philosophy with the father, was giving the daughter lessons in love.

Jo couldn't even lose her heart in a decorous manner, but sternly tried to quench her feelings, and failing to do so, led a somewhat agitated life. She was mortally afraid of being laughed at for surrendering, after her many and vehement declarations of independence. Laurie was her especial dread, but thanks to the new manager, he behaved with praiseworthy propriety, never called Mr. Bhaer `a capital old fellow' in public, never alluded, in the remotest manner, to Jo's improved appearance, or expressed the least surprise at seeing the Professor's hat on the Marches' table nearly every evening. But he exulted in private and longed for the time to come when he could give Jo a piece of plate, with a bear and a ragged staff on it as an appropriate coat of arms.

For a fortnight, the Professor came and went with lover-like regularity. Then he stayed away for three whole days, and made no sign, a proceeding which caused everybody to look sober, and Jo to become pensive, at first, and then--alas for romance--very cross.

"Disgusted, I dare say, and gone home as suddenly as he came. It's nothing tome, of course, but I should think he would have come and bid us goodbye like a gentleman," she said to herself, with a despairing look at the gate, as she put on her things for the customary walk one dull afternoon.

"You'd better take the little umbrella, dear. It looks like rain," said her mother, observing that she had on her new bonnet, but not alluding to the fact.
"Yes, Marmee, do you want anything in town? I've got to run in and get some paper," returned Jo, pulling out the bow under her chin before the glass as an excuse for not looking at her mother.

"Yes, I want some twilled silesia, a paper of number nine needles, and two yards of narrow lavender ribbon. Have you got your thick boots on, and something warm under your cloak?"

"I believe so," answered Jo absently.

"If you happen to meet Mr. Bhaer, bring him home to tea. I quite long to see the dear man," added Mrs. March.

Jo heard that, but made no answer, except to kiss her mother, and walk rapidly away, thinking with a glow of gratitude, in spite of her heartache, "How good she is to me! What do girls do who haven't any mothers to help them through their troubles?"

The dry-goods stores were not down among the counting-houses, banks, and wholesale warerooms, where gentlemen most do congregate, but Jo found herself in that part of the city before she did a single errand, loitering along as if waiting for someone, examining engineering instruments in one window and samples of wool in another, with most unfeminine interest, tumbling over barrels,being half-smothered by descending bales, and hustled unceremoniously by busy men who looked as if they wondered `how the deuce she got there'. A drop of rain on her cheek recalled her thoughts from baffled hopes to ruined ribbons. For the drops continued to fall, and being a woman as well as a lover, she felt that, though it was too late to save her heart, she might her bonnet. Now she remembered the little umbrella, which she had forgotten to take in her hurry to be off, but regret was unavailing, and nothing could be done but borrow one or submit to to a drenching. She looked up at the lowering sky, down at the crimson bow already flecked with black, forward along the muddy street, then one long, lingering look behind, at a certain grimy warehouse, with `Hoffmann, Swartz, & Co.' over the door, and said to herself, with a sternly reproachful air...

"It serves me right! what business had I to put on all my best things and come philandering down here, hoping to see the Professor? Jo, I'm ashamed of you! No, you shall not go there to borrow an umbrella, or find out where he is, from his friends. You shall trudge away, and do your errands in the rain, and if you catch your death and ruin your bonnet, it's no more than you deserve. Now then!"

With that she rushed across the street so impetuously that she narrowly escaped annihilation from a passing truck, and precipitated herself into the arms of a stately old gentleman, who said, "I beg pardon, ma'am," and looked mortally offended. Somewhat daunted, Jo righted herself, spread her handkerchief over the devoted ribbons, and putting temptation behind her, hurried on, with increasing dampness about the ankles, and much clashing of umbrellas overhead. The fact that a somewhat dilapidated blue one remained stationary above the unprotected bonnet attracted her attention, and looking up, she saw Mr. Bhaer looking down.

"I feel to know the strong-minded lady who goes so bravely under many horse noses, and so fast through much mus. What do you down here, my friend?"

"I'm shopping."
Mr. Bhaer smiled, as he glanced from the pickle factory on one side to the wholesale hide and leather concern on the other, but her only said politely, "You haf no umbrella. May I go also, and take for you the bundles?"

"Yes, thank you."
Jo's cheeks were as red as her ribbon, and she wondered what he thought of her, but she didn't care, for in a minute she found herself walking away arm in arm with her Professor, feeling as if the sun had suddenly burst out with uncommon brilliancy, that the world was all right again, and that one thoroughly happy woman was paddling through the wet that day.

"We thought you had gone," said Jo hastily, for she knew he was looking at her. Her bonnet wasn't big enough to hide her face, and she feared he might think the joy it betrayed unmaidenly.

"Did you believe that I should go with no farewell to those who haf been so heavenly kind tome?" he asked so reproachfully that she felt as if she had insulted him by the suggestion, and answered heartily...

"No, I didn't. I knew you were busy about your own affairs, but we rather missed you, Father and Mother especially."

"And you?"

"I'm always glad to see you, sir."

In her anxiety to keep her voice quite calm, Jo made it rather cool, and the frosty little monosyllable at the end seemed to chill the Professor, for his smile vanished, as he said gravely...

"I thank you, and come one more time before I go."

"You are going, then?"

"I haf no longer any business here, it is done."

"Successfully, I hope?" said Jo, for the bitterness of disappointment was in that short reply of his.

"I ought to think so, for I haf a way opened to me by which I can make my bread and gif my Junglings much help."

"Tell me, please! I like to know all about the--the boys," said Jo eagerly.

"That is so kind, I gladly tell you. My friends find for mea place in a college, where I teach as at home, and earn enough to make the way smooth for Franz and Emil. For this I should be grateful, should I not?"

"Indeed you should. How splendid it will be to have you doing what you like, and be able to see you often, and the boys!" cried Jo, clinging to the lads as an excuse for the satisfaction she could not help betraying.

"Ah! But we shall not meet often, I fear, this place is at the West."

"So far away!" And Jo left her skirts to their fate, as if it didn't matter now what became of her clothes or herself.

Mr. Bhaer could read several languages, but he had not learned to read women yet. He flattered himself that he knew Jo pretty well, and was, therefore, much amazed by the contradictions of voice, face, and manner, which she showed him in rapid succession that day, for she was in half a dozen different moods in the course of half an hour. When she met him she looked surprised, though it was impossible to help suspecting that she had come for that express purpose. When he offered her his arm, she took it with a look that filled him with delight, but when he asked if she missed him, she gave such chilly,formalreplythatdespair fell upon him. On learning his good fortune she almost clappedherhands. Was the joy all for the boys? Then on hearing his destination, she said, "So far away!" in a tone of despair that lifted him on to a pinnacle of hope, but the next minute she tumbled him down again by observing, like one entirely absorbed in the matter...

"Here's the place for my errands. Will you come in? It won't take long."

Jo rather prided herself upon her shopping capabilities, and particularly wished to impress her escort with the neatness and dispatch with which she would accomplish the business. But owing to the flutter she was in, everything went amiss. She upset the tray of needles, forgot the silesia was to be `twilled' till it was cut off, gave the wrong change, and covered herself with confusion by asking for lavender ribbon at the calico counter. Mr. Bhaer stood by, watching her blush and blunder, and as he watched, his own bewilderment seemed to subside, for he was beginning to see that on some occasions, women, like dreams, go by contraries.

When they came out, he put the parcel under his arm with a more cheerful aspect, and splashed through the puddles as if he rather enjoyed it on the whole.

"Should we no do a little what you call shopping for the babies, and haf a farewell feast tonight if I go for my last call at your so pleasant home?" he asked, stopping before a window full of fruit and flowers.

"What will we buy?" asked Jo, ignoring the latter part of his speech, and sniffing the mingled odors with an affectation of delight as they went in.

"May they haf oranges and figs?" asked Mr. Bhaer, with a paternal air.

"They eat them when they can get them."
"Do you care for nuts?"

"Like a squirrel."

"Hamburg grapes. Yes, we shall drink to the Fatherland in those?"

Jo frowned upon that piece of extravagance, and asked why he didn't buy a frail of dated, a cask of raisins, and a bag of almonds, and be done with it? Whereat Mr. Bhaer confiscated her purse, produced his own, and finished the marketing by buying several pounds of grapes, a pot of rosy daisies, and a pretty jar of honey, to be regarded in the light of a demijohn. Then distorting his pockets with knobby bundles, and giving her the flowers to hold, he put up the old umbrella, and they traveled on again.

"Miss Marsch, I haf a great favor to ask of you," began the Professor, after a moist promenade of half a block.

"Yes, sir." And Jo's heart began to beat so hard she was afraid he would hear it.

"I am bold to say it in spite of the rain, because so short a time remains to me."

"Yes, sir." And Jo nearly crushed the small flowerpot with the sudden squeeze she gave it.

"I wish to get a little dress for my Tina, and I am too stupid to go alone. Will you kindly gif me a word of taste and help?"

"Yes, sir." And JO felt as calm and cool all of a sudden as if she had stepped into a refrigerator.

"Perhaps also a shawl for Tina's mother, she is so poor and sick, and the husband is such a care. Yes, yes, a thick, warm shawl would be a friendly thing to take the little mother."

"I'll do it with pleasure, Mr. Bhaer. I'm going very fast, and he's getting dearer every minute," added Jo to herself, then with a mental shake she entered into the business with an energy that was pleasant to behold. Mr. Bhaer left it all to her, so she chose a pretty gown for Tina, and then ordered out the shawls. The clerk, being a married man, condescended to take an interest in the couple, who appeared to be shopping for their family.

"Your lady may prefer this. It's a superior article, a most desirable color, quite chaste and genteel," he said, shaking out a comfortable gray shawl, and throwing it over Jo's shoulders.

"Does this suit you, Mr. Bhaer?" she asked, turning her back to him, and feeling deeply grateful for the chance of hiding her face. "Excellently well, we will haf it," answered the Professor, smiling to himself as he paid for it, while Jo continued to rummage the counters like a confirmed bargain-hunter.

"Now shall we go home?" he asked, as if the words were very pleasant to him.

"Yes, it's late, and I'm so tired." Jo's voice was more pathetic than she knew. For now the sun seemed to have gone in as suddenly as it came out, and the world grew muddy and miserable again, and for the first time she discovered that her feet were cold, her head ached, and that her heart was colder than the former, fuller of pain than the latter. Mr. Bhaer was going away, he only cared for her as a friend, it was all a mistake, and the sooner it was over the better. With this idea in her head, she hailed an approaching omnibus with such a hasty gesture that the daisies flew out of the pot and were badly damaged.

"This is not our omniboos," said the Professor, waving the loaded vehicle away, and stopping to pick up the poor little flowers.

"I beg your pardon. I didn't see the name distinctly. Never mind, I can walk. I'm used to plodding in the mud," returned Jo, winking hard, because she would have died rather than openly wipe her eyes. Mr. Bhaer saw the drops on her cheeks, though she turned her head away. The sight seemed to touch him very much, for suddenly stooping down, he asked in a tone that meant a great deal, "Heart's dearest, why do you cry?"

Now, if Jo had not been new to this sort of thing she would have said she wasn't crying, had a cold in her head, or told any other feminine fib proper to the occasion. Instead of which, that undignified creature answered, with an irrepressible sob, "Because you are going away."

"Ach, mein Gott, that is so good!" cried Mr. Bhaer, managing to clasp his hands in spite of the umbrella and the bundles, "Jo, I haf nothing but much love to gif you. I came to see if you could care for it, and I waited to be sure that I was something more than a friend. Am I? Can you make a little place in your heart for old Fritz?" he added, all in one breath.

"Oh, yes!" said Jo, and he was quite satisfied, for she folded both hands over his are, and looked up at him with an expression that plainly showed how happy she would be to walk through life beside him, even though she had no better shelter than the old umbrella, if he carried it.

It was certainly proposing under difficulties, for even if he had desired to do so, Mr. Bhaer could not go down upon his knees, on account of the mud. Neither could he offer Jo his hand, except figuratively, for both were full. Much less could he indulge in tender remonstrations in the open street, though he was near it. So the only way in which he could express his rapture was to look at her, with an expression which glorified his face to such a degree that there actually seemed to be little rainbows in the drops that sparkled on his beard. If he had not loved Jo very much, I don't think he could have doneit then, for she looked far from lovely, with her skirts in a deplorable state, her rubber boots splashed to the ankle, and her bonnet a ruin. Fortunately, Mr. Bhaer considered her the most beautiful woman living, and she found him more `Jove-like" than ever, though his hatbrim was quite limp with the little rills trickling thence upon his shoulders (for he held the umbrella all over Jo), and every finger of his gloves needed mending.

Passers-by probably thought them a pair of harmless lunatics, for they entirely forgot to hail a bus, and strolledleisurely along, oblivious of deepening dusk and fog. Little they cared what anybody thought, for they were enjoying the happy hour that seldom comes but once in any life, the magical moment which bestows youth on the old, beauty on the plain, wealth on the poor, and gives human hearts a foretaste of heaven. The Professor looked as if he had conquered a kingdom, and the world had nothing more to offer him in the way of bliss. While Jo trudged beside him, feeling as if her place had always been there, and wondering how she ever could have chosen any other lot. Of course, she was the first to speak--intelligibly, I mean, for the emotional remarks which followed her impetuous
"Oh, yes!" were not of a coherent or reportable character.

"Friedrich, why didn't you..."

"Ah, heaven, she gifs me the name that no one speaks since Minna died!" cried the Professor, pausing in a puddle to regard her with grateful delight.

"I always call you so to myself--I forgot, but I won't unless you like it."

"Like it? It is more sweet to me than I can tell. Say `thou', also, and I shall say your language is almost as beautiful as mine."

"Isn't `thou' a little sentimental?" asked Jo, privately thinking it a lovely monosyllable.

"Sentimental? Yes. Thank Gott, we Germans believe in sentiment, and keep ourselves young mit it. Your English `you' is so cold, say `thou', heart's dearest, it means so much to me," pleaded Mr. Bhaer, more like a romantic student than a grave professor.

"Well, then, why didn't thou tell me all this sooner?" asked Jo bashfully.

"Now I shall haf to show thee all my heart, and I so gladly will, because thou must take care of it hereafter. See, then, myJo--ah, the dear, funny little name--I had a wish to tell something the day I said goodbye in New York, but I thought the handsome friend was betrothed to thee, and so I spoke not. Wouldst thou have said `Yes', then, if I had spoken?"

"I don't know. I'm afraid not, for I didn't have any heart just then."

"Prut! That I do not believe. It was asleep till the fairy prince came through the wood, and waked it up. Ah, well, `Die erste Liebe ist die beste', but that I should not expect."

"Yes, the first love is the best, but be so contented, for I never had another. Teddy was only a boy, and soon got over his little fancy," said Jo, anxious to correct the Professor's mistake.

"Good! Then I shall rest happy, and be sure that thou givest me all. I haf waited so long, I am grown selfish, as thou wiltfind , Professorin."

"I like that," cried Jo, delighted with her new name. "Now tell me what brought you, at last, just when I wanted you?"

"This." And Mr. Bhaer took a little worn paper out of his waistcoat pocket.

Jo unfolded it, and looked much abashed, for it was one of her own contributions to a paper that paid for poetry, which accounted for her sending it an occasional attempt.

"How could that bring you?" she asked, wondering what he meant.

"I found it by chance. I knew it by the names and the initials, and in it there was one little verse that seemed to call me. Read and find him. I will see that you go not in the wet."

IN THE GARRET Four little chests all in a row, Dim with dust, and worn by time, All fashioned and filled, long ago, By children now in their prime. Four little keys hung side by side, With faded ribbons, brave and gay When fastened there, with childish pride, Long ago, on a rainy day. Four little names, one on each lid, Carved out by a boyish hand, And underneath there lieth hid Histories of the happpy band Once playing here, and pausing oft To hear the sweet refrain, That came and went on the roof aloft, In the falling summer rain.

"Meg" on the first lid, smooth and fair. I look in with loving eyes, For folded here, with well-known care, A goodly gathering lies, The record of a peaceful life-- Gifts to gentle child and girl, A bridal gown, lines to a wife, A tiny shoe, a baby curl. No toys in this first chest remain, For all are carried away, In their old age, to join again In another small Meg's play. Ah, happy mother! Well I know You hear, like a sweet refrain, Lullabies ever soft and low In the falling summer rain.

"Jo" on the next lid, scratched and worn, And within a motley store Of headless, dolls, of schoolbooks torn, Birds and beasts that speak no more, Spoils brought home from the fairy ground Only trod by youthful feet, Dreams of a future never found, Memories of a past still sweet, Half-writ poems, stories wild, April letters, warm and cold, Diaries of a wilful child, Hints of a woman early old, A woman in a lonely home, Hearing, like a sad refrain-- "Be worthy, love, and love will come," In the falling summer rain.

My Beth! the dust is always swept From the lid that bears your name, As if by loving eyes that wept, By careful hands that often came. Death cannonized for us one saint, Ever less human than divine, And still we lay, with tender plaint, Relics in this household shrine-- The silver bell, so seldom rung, The little cap which last she wore, The fair, dead Catherine that hung By angels borne above her door. The songs she sang, without lament, In her prison-house of pain, Forever are they sweetly blent With the falling summer rain.

Upon the last lid's polished field-- Legend now both fair and true A gallant knight bears on his shield, "Amy" in letters gold and blue. Within lie snoods that bound her hair, Slippers that have danced their last, Faded flowers laid by with care, Fans whose airy toils are past, Gay valentines, all ardent flames, Trifles that have borne their part In girlish hopes and fears and shames, The record of a maiden heart Now learning fairer, truer spells, Hearing, like a blithe refrain, The silver sound of bridal bells In the falling summer rain.

Four little chests all in a row, Dim with dust, and worn by time, Four women, taught by weal and woe To love and labor in their prime. Four sisters, parted for an hour, None lost, one only gone before, Made by love's immortal power, Nearest and dearest evermore. Oh, when these hidden stores of ours Lie open to the Father's sight, May they be rich in golden hours, Deeds that show fairer for the light, Lives whose brave music long shall ring, Like a spirit-stirring strain, Souls that shall gladly soar and sing In the long sunshine after rain.

"It's very bad poetry, but I felt it when I wrote it, one day when I was very lonely, and had a good cry on a rag bag. I never thought it would go where it could tell tales," said Jo, tearing up the verses the Professor had treasured so long.

"Let it go, it has done it's duty, and I will haf a fresh one when I read all the brown book in which she keeps her little secrets," said Mr. Bhaer with a smile as he watched the fragments fly away on the wind. "Yes," he added earnestly, "I read that, and I think to myself, She has a sorrow, she is lonely, she would find comfort in true love. I haf a heart full, full for her. Shall I not go and say, "If this is not too poor a thing to gif for what I shall hope to receive, take it in Gott's name?"

"And so you came to find that it was not too poor, but the one precious thing I needed," whispered Jo.

"I had no courage to think that at first, heavenly kind as was your welcome to me. But soon I began to hope, and then I said, `I will haf her if I die for it,' and so I will!" cried Mr. Bhaer, with a defiant nod, as if the walls of mist closing round them were barriers which he was to surmount or valiantly knock down.

Jo thought that was splendid, and resolved to be worthy of her knight, though he did not come prancing on a charger in gorgeous array.

"What made you stay away so long?" she asked presently, finding it so pleasant to ask confidential questions and get delightful answers that she could not keep silent.

"It was not easy, but I could not find the heart to take you from that so happy home until I could haf a prospect of one to gif you, after much time, perhaps, and hard work. How could I ask you to gif up so much for a poor old fellow, who has no fortune but a little learning?"

"I'm glad you are poor. I couldn't bear a rich husband," said Jo decidedly, adding in a softer tone, "Don't fear poverty. I've known it long enough to lose my dread and be happy working for those I love, and don't call yourself old--forty is the prime of life. I couldn't help loving you if you were seventy!"

The Professor found that so touching that he would have been glad of his handkerchief, if he could have got at it. As her couldn't, Jo wiped his eyes for him, and said, laughing, as she took away a bundle or two...

"I may be strong-minded, but no one can say I'm out of my sphere now, for woman's special mission is supposed to be drying tears and bearing burdens. I'm to carry my share, Friedrich, and help to earn the home. Make up your mind to that, or I'll never go," she added resolutely, as he tried to reclaim his load.

"We shall see. Haf you patience to wait a long time, Jo? I must go away and do my work alone. I must help my boys first, because, even for you, I may not break my word to Minna. Can you forgif that, and be happy while we hope and wait?"
"Yes, I know I can, for we love one another, and that makes all the rest easy to bear. I have my duty, also, and my work. I couldn't enjoy myself if I neglected them even for you, so there's no need of hurry or impatience. You can do your part out West, I can do mine here, and both be happy hoping for the best, and leaving the future to be as God wills."
"Ah! Thou gifest me such hope and courage, and I haf nothing to gif back but a full heart and these empty hands," cried the Professor, quite overcome.
Jo never, never would learn to be proper, for when he said that as they stood upon the steps, she just put both hands into his, whispering tenderly, "Not empty now," and stooping down, kissed her Friedrich under the umbrella. It was dreadful, but she would have done it if the flock of draggle-tailed sparrows on the hedge had been human beings, for she was very far gone indeed, and quite regardless of everything but her own happiness. Though it came in such a very simple guise, that was the crowning moment of both their lives, when, turning from the night and storm and loneliness to the household light and warmth and peace waiting to receive them, with a glad "Welcome home!" Jo led her lover in, and shut the door.



第四十六章 在雨伞下

　　劳里和艾美夫妻俩在天鹅绒地毯上安然踱步，为幸福的未来筹划，把个家料理得井然有序。与此同时，巴尔先生和乔走在泥泞的路上，潮湿的田野中，享受着一种不同的散步的情趣。
　　"傍晚时，我总是要散步的。我不知道为什么只是因为常碰巧遇到教授出门我就得放弃，"两三次路遇教授后，乔自言自语道。尽管梅格家有两条道可走，可是不管她走哪条，肯定会遇上他，无论来去都是这样。他总是走得很快，而且似乎不到走到相当近，就看不见她，仿佛他的近视眼使他到那一刻才认出走近的女士。然后，要是乔去梅格家，他总有些东西给两个孩子，要是她面朝家的方向，他便只是散步过来看看小河的，正打算回去呢，他担心他的频繁来访会使他们厌烦。
　　在这种情况下，除了有礼貌地和他打招呼，邀请他进家，乔还能做什么呢？若是她真的厌烦他的来访，她也会掩饰得天衣无缝。她留意晚餐应该有咖啡喝，"因为弗里德里克--我是指巴尔先生--不喜欢喝茶"。
　　到了第二个星期，每个人都完全知道了正在发生什么事情。可是，大家都试图做出对乔脸色的变化全然不察的样子。
　　他们从不问她为什么一边做活一边唱歌，一天要梳三遍头，为什么傍晚散步脸红起来。巴尔教授一边和爸爸谈哲学，一边给女儿上爱情课。似乎没有谁对此有丝毫的怀疑。
　　乔现在已是六神无主，不能保持昔日庄重的常态了。她试图对自己的感情采取断然措施，可她做不到，而愈加心浮气躁。过去她多次强烈宣布要独立，而现在，她非常害怕因为自食其言而让人笑话。她特别怕劳里会笑话她，幸好有人管着他，他的言行举止倒没有什么出格、值得非议之处。公开场合他从不称巴尔先生为"极好的老头儿"，也不以任何方式暗示乔大有变化。看到教授的帽子几乎是每天晚上都出现在马奇家客厅的桌子上，他也没有一点儿大惊小怪的表示。他心中欣喜不已，企盼那个时候来临，他好送给乔一只馈赠盘，上面画有一个莽汉和一根破权杖，就像是枚盾形纹章，再合适不过了。
　　两个星起来，教授真像情人那样很有规律地来往不停。后来又整整三天没有露面，音信杳然。这使得大家心情一下子紧张起来。乔开始有些忧心忡忡，然后--唉呀，爱情！--窝火透了。
　　"我敢说，他反感我了。和来时一样突然回家去了。当然，也没什么。可是我倒是认为，他本应该像个绅士那样来向我们道别的，"一个阴天的下午，她失望地看着大门，自言自语道，一边穿戴着准备像往常那样出去散步。
　　"你最好带上那把小雨伞，亲爱的。看来要下雨，"妈妈说。她注意到乔戴上了新帽子，但是没提帽子的事。
　　"是的，妈咪。你要买什么吗？我要进城买些稿纸，"乔回答。她在镜子前拉开下巴上的帽结，不让妈妈正看自己的脸。
　　"要的，我要买些斜纹亚麻布，一盒九号针，还要两码淡紫色丝带。你穿上厚靴子了吗？外套里面可穿了些暖和的衣服？""我想，穿了，"乔心不在焉地回答。
　　"要是你碰巧遇上巴尔先生，就带他回家来喝茶。我还真想见到那亲切可爱的人呢。"这句话乔听见了，但却没作回答。她只是亲了妈妈一下，便迅速走开了。她尽管伤心，还是带着感激的喜悦想道："她对我多好啊！那些没有妈妈帮助度过难关的姑娘们可怎么办啊？"先生们往往聚集在事务室、银行和批发商品贮藏室。卖绸缎呢绒的商店不和上述地方位于一处，乔却发现自己不觉走到了那些地方。她一件差事没干，沿路闲逛，好像在等着什么人。她带着非常不适合女性的兴趣浏览着这个橱窗里的机器仪表，那个橱窗里的羊毛样品。她打翻了货桶，几乎被下卸的货包压倒，忙碌着的男人们没礼貌地乱推着她，他们的神情好像奇怪"她究竟怎么到了这里？"她脸上感到了一滴雨点，这把她的思绪从受挫的希望拉回到毁了的丝带。雨点继续在落，她作为女人又作为情人的细心柔肠让她感觉到了雨点。虽然挽救破碎的心为时已晚，但也许还能挽救她的帽子。现在她记起了那把小雨桑仓促上路时她忘了带上它。可是后悔无益。没什么好做的，要么去借一把伞，要么任由雨淋。她抬头看了看阴霾的天气，低头看看已经弄上点点黑斑的的红色帽结，又朝前看看泥泞的街道，然后踌躇地回头久久看着一家肮脏的货栈，货栈门上写着"霍夫曼斯瓦兹联营公司"。乔带着苛刻的自责神情自言自语道--"我活该如此！我有什么理由要穿戴上我最好的衣帽，跑到这里来卖俏，希望见到教授？乔，我为你感到羞耻！不，不能去那里借伞，也不能向他的朋友打听他在哪里。就在雨中跋涉，办你的事吧。假如你因淋雨患重伤风而死，并且淋毁了帽子，也一点儿不冤枉。就这么办吧！"这样想着，她猛地冲往街对面，差一点被一辆开过来的卡车轧死。她一下撞进一个威严的老先生怀里，老先生有些生气，他说道："对不起，小姐。"乔有点胆怯了，她站直身，将手帕盖住那注定要遭殃的丝带，把诱惑置于脑后，慌不择路地走着。她脚踝越来越湿，头顶上行人的雨伞撞来撞去。一把有些旧的蓝伞在她没有保护的帽子上定住不动了，一下子吸引了她的注意力。她抬起头来，看到巴尔先生正朝下看着她。
　　"我想知道那个意志坚强的女士是谁，她那么勇敢地在这许多马车前奔走，这么快地在烂泥路上穿行。你到这里来做什么，我的朋友？""我在买东西。"巴尔先生笑了。他的眼光从街道一边的泡菜坊扫到另一边的皮革批发商行。但是他只礼貌地说道："你没有伞，我可以和你一起去，帮你拿东西吗？""可以，谢谢。"乔的面颊像她的丝带一般红了，她不知道他怎么想她的，可是她不在乎。一会儿她便发现自己和她的教授在手挽手走。
　　她感到太阳似乎破云而出，光芒耀眼，世界又恢复了正常。这个正在涉水走着的妇人幸福透顶。
　　"我们还以为你已经走了呢，"乔急急地说道，她知道他在看着她。她的帽子够大，能藏得住她的脸，她担心她的脸泄露出高兴的神情，使他认为缺乏少女气。
　　"你们对我那么好，你相信我竟会不辞而别？"他带着那种责备语气问。她感到好像那个暗示侮辱了他。她由衷地答道--"不，我不相信。我知道你忙着自己的事。可是我们非常想见你--特别是爸爸、妈妈。""那你呢？""见到你我总是高兴的，先生。"乔急切地想保持声音平稳，结果话说得非常冷静，句末那个无情的小单音节似乎使教授扫兴，他的笑容消失了，他严肃地说道--"谢谢你。我走前会再去一次。""那么，你要走？""我这里没事了，已经完了。"
　　"我希望你成功了？"乔说。教授的简短回答里有着失望的痛楚。
　　"我可以这样想，因为我找到了一条路，可以挣得面包，大大帮助我的Ｊüｎｇｌｉｎｇｓ。""请告诉我！我想知道一切--孩子们的事，"乔急切地说。
　　"你太客气了，我乐意告诉你。朋友们为我在大学谋到个职位，我将在那里和在家那样教书，挣得足够的钱为弗朗兹和埃米尔铺平道路。我为这事感到高兴，该不该这样？""你真的该高兴。你能做你喜欢的事，我们又能常见到你，还有孩子们，这太妙了！"乔叫着，她情不自禁地露出了满意的神色，却拉着孩子们作幌子。
　　"噢！可是，我担心我们不会常见的，大学在西部。""那么远啊！"乔放下裙裾，任其听命了，好像她不在乎她的衣服和她自己有什么遭遇。
　　巴尔先生能读几种语言，可是还不曾学过读懂妇女。他自以为相当了解乔。所以，那天乔的声音、脸色、态度相互矛盾，使他大为惊讶，她接二连三地露出矛盾，半个小时内心境变换了五六次。遇到他时她看上去惊喜，虽然不由得让人怀疑她是为那个采买的目的而来的。当他把胳膊伸给她时，她挽上胳膊的表情使她充满喜悦。可是当他问及她是否想他时，她的回答那样正式，让人扫兴，以致绝望笼罩了他。获悉他的好运，她几乎拍起手来，那完全是为孩子们高兴吗？然后，听说了他的目的地，她又说："那么远啊！"她绝望的语调将他举到了希望的顶峰。可是，转眼间她又使他掉落下来。她像完全沉浸在差事中那样说--"我采买东西的地方到了。你进来吗？要不了多长时间。"乔很为她的采买能力自豪。她特别想麻利、敏捷地完成差事，给她的陪伴留下深刻印象。可是，由于她心绪不宁，结果事事别扭。她打翻了针盒，忘了要买的亚麻布是"斜纹的"，还找错了零钱。她在印花布柜台要买淡紫色丝带，自己弄得糊里糊涂。巴尔先生站在一旁，看着她红着脸，犯着错。
　　看着看着，他自己的困惑似乎减轻了，因为他开始看出，在有的场合，女人们像梦一样，正好相反。
　　他们出来时，他将包裹夹在胳膊下，脸色开朗起来。他踩着水坑走着，好像这一切总的说来他很欣赏。
　　"我们要不要为两个孩子'采买'点什么？要是我今晚去你们那个快乐之家，做最后一次拜访，来一个告别宴会，你说好吗？"他停在一个摆满水果和鲜花的橱窗前问道。
　　"我们买什么呢？"乔问。她忽视了她问话的后一部分，走进店里装作愉快的样子闻着水果和鲜花的混合香味。
　　"他们吃不吃桔子和无花果？"巴尔先生带着父亲般的神气问。
　　"有多少吃多少。"
　　"你喜吃坚果吗？"
　　"像松鼠一样喜欢。"
　　"葡萄汉堡包，是的，我们将用这些东西为祖国干杯，好吗？"乔觉得这有些奢侈而皱起了眉头。她问他为什么不买一草篓枣子、一罐葡萄干、一袋扁桃，然后就此打祝于是，巴尔先生没收了她的钱包，拿出了他自己的。他买子几磅葡萄、一盆粉红色雏菊，还有漂亮的一瓶蜂蜜，说它漂亮是从盛它的小颈大起来看的。就这样购买完毕。他的口袋被些小球形物品撑得变了形。他把花交给乔拿着，自己撑开那把阳伞，两个人继续行路。
　　"马奇小姐，我有件大事要求你，"他们在湿地里走了半个街区后，教授开了口。
　　"说吧，先生。"乔的心跳得那么响，她担心他会听见。
　　"虽然在下雨，我还是得斗胆相求，因为我只剩下这么短时间了。""是的，先生。"乔突然捏了下花盆，差点将花盆弄碎。
　　"我想为我的蒂娜买件小衣服，可是我太笨，自己去买不好。能请你帮忙参谋一下吗？""好的，先生。"乔突然感到镇定冷静下来，仿佛跨进了冰箱。
　　"也可能还为蒂娜的母亲买条披肩。她那么穷，丈夫又是那样的一个拖累。对了，对了，带给那小母亲一条暖和的披肩将会有帮助的。""我会乐意效劳的，巴尔先生。我很快就要在他心中消失了，而他却每分钟越来越可爱了，"乔接着对自己说。然后，她带着思想上受到的打击，十足热心地为他参谋起来，好像什么也没发生。
　　巴尔先生一切都交给她办了。于是，她为蒂娜选了一件漂亮的长外衣，然后要店员拿出披肩来看。店员是个结过婚的人，他放下架子，对这一对人产生了兴趣，他们似乎是在为他们的家庭采购。
　　"你夫人也许更喜欢这一条，这披肩质量上乘，颜色也很好，非常高雅、时髦，"他说着将一条柔软的灰色披肩抖开，披在了乔的肩上。
　　"这条合你意吗，巴尔先生？"她将背转向他问道，她深深感激这个使她藏起脸的机会。
　　"非常合意，我们就买这一条，"教授回答。他一边付钱一边暗笑着。而乔继续搜查着一个个柜台，像是个改不了的到处找便宜货的人。
　　"现在我们该回家了吧？"他问，好像这话在他听来非常悦耳。
　　"是的，不早了，而且我这么累。"乔的声音不知不觉感伤起来，因为，现在太阳就像刚才出来那样，突然钻进去了，她第一次发现，她的双脚冰冷，头也作痛，她的心比脚更冷，心中的疼痛比头疼更甚。巴尔先生就要离开她了。他喜欢她，只是作为朋友，这一切都是个错误。结束得越早越好。她脑中这样想着，便叫住了一辆开近的公共马车。她叫车的手势那样仓促，使得雏菊飞出了花盆，糟糕地毁坏了。
　　"这不是我们要乘的马车，"教授说，他挥手让满载乘客的马车开走，俯身去拾那些可怜的小花们。
　　"请原谅。我没看清车牌。没关系，我能走，我习惯在泥地里跋涉，"乔回答说。她使劲眨着眼，因为她宁肯去死也不愿公开地擦眼睛。
　　虽然她扭转了头，巴尔先生还是看到了她面颊上的泪滴。
　　这情景显然大大感动了他。他突然俯下身来，意味深长地问道："我最亲爱的，你为什么哭了？"
　　乔若不是因为初涉爱河，她会说她不是在哭，而是鼻子有点不适，淌清鼻涕，或者扯个别的适时的女人家小谎。可是她没那样说，却遏制不住地抽泣着，有损尊严地回答："因为你要走了。""Ａｃｈ，ｍｅｉｎＧｏｔｔ，那太好了，"巴尔先生叫了起来。他顾不上雨伞和物品，费劲地拍起手来。"乔，除了许多的爱，我没什么给你的了。我来是看看你可在乎我的爱的。我等待着能确信这一点，我和你的关系超出朋友，是不是这样？你能为老弗里茨在心中留个小位置吗？"他一口气说完这些话。
　　"哦，好的！"乔说。他非常满足了。她双手抱住了他的胳膊，脸上的表情清楚地显示出，即使没有了那把旧伞的遮蔽，能和他并肩穿越人生，也是她无上的幸福。
　　这种求婚方式当然困难，因为，即便巴尔先生愿意下跪，地上的烂泥也使他不能这么做。用比喻的说法，他也不能伸手给乔向她求婚，因为他双手都拿着东西。更不用说在光天化日之下忘情地表达爱慕之心，尽管他差一点就这样做了。所以，唯一能表达他狂喜心情的方式便是看着她，那是种容光焕发的表情。实际上，他胡子上闪着的亮晶晶的泪光里似乎有着小彩虹。假若他不是那样深爱着乔，我想，当时他不可能那样的。她看着决非翩翩淑女，她的裙子处于悲惨的境地，胶靴上泥巴一直溅到脚脖子，帽子也一塌糊涂。幸好，在巴尔先生眼中，她是世上活着的女人中最美丽的。而她也发现他比以前更"像朱庇特"了，虽然他的帽边差不多卷曲了，小溪从那上面流向他的双肩（因为他把伞全给乔遮雨了），而且他手套的每一个指头都需要缝补。
　　路人也许会以为他们俩是一对没有恶意的神经病，因为，他们完全忘了叫车，忘了渐浓的暮色与雾，从容不迫地信步走着。他们根本不在乎别人怎样看他们，他们沉浸在幸福的时光里，这种时光极少来临，一生只有这一次。这个神奇的时刻给老人青春，给丑人美貌，给穷人财富，让人类预先尝到天堂的滋味。教授看上去像是征服了一个王国。他幸福之至，尘世赐予他的没有比这更多的了。乔在他身边沉重地跋涉着，她感到好像她的位置一直就该在这里，纳闷她以前怎么会选择别的命运。当然，是她先开口说话--我是说，这可以理解，因为，她先激动地说："哦，好的！"随后又动情地说话，这不太一致，也不值得报道。
　　"弗里德里克，你为什么不--"
　　"哦，天哪，她叫我那个名字，明娜死后还没有谁那样叫过我！"教授叫着。他在一个水坑停下，怀着满心欢喜与感激看着她。
　　"我总是在心里这样叫你--我忘了，但是，除非你喜欢，我不会这样叫了。""喜欢？我说不上那有多么甜蜜。你也说'卿'，我得说，你们的语言几乎和我的一样美丽。""'卿'是不是有点感情用事？"乔问，她暗自认为那是个可爱的单音节。
　　"感情用事？是的，感谢上帝，我们德国人信奉感情用事，用它使我们保持年轻。你们英语中的'你'那么冷淡，说'卿'，最亲爱的，它对我意味深长，"巴尔先生恳求道，他更像个谈情说爱的学生，而不像个严肃的教授。
　　"那么，好吧。卿为什么不早点告诉我这些？"乔羞怯地问道。
　　"现在我让你洞悉了我所有的心思，我也非常高兴这么做，因为从此以后卿得照拂它。明白了吗？我的乔--啊，那可爱、有趣的小名字--那天在纽约和你道别时，我就想对你说些什么。可是，我以为那漂亮的朋友和你订了婚，所以我没说什么。假如我那时说了，卿会回答'好的'吗？""我不知道。恐怕我不会说的。那时我一点心思也没有。""哦！我不相信。它睡着了，直到那可爱的王子穿过树林，将它弄醒。啊，是的。'ＤｉｅｅｒｓｔｅＬｉｅｂｅｉｓｔｄｉｅｂｅｓｔｅ，，可是我不应那样企盼。""是的，初恋确实最珍贵，所以你就知足吧，因为我从来没有另外的恋爱。特迪只是个男孩，我很快就打消掉了他的幻想，"乔说。她急于纠正教授的错误。
　　"好！那我就满足了。我确信你给了我全部的爱。我等待了那么长时间，卿会发现，我变得自私了，教授夫人。""我喜欢那个称呼，"乔叫着，为她的新名字高兴，"现在告诉你，正在我最需要你的时候，是什么使你终于来到这里的？""是这个。"巴尔先生从背心口袋里掏出一张揉皱了的小纸片。
　　乔打开了纸片，神情非常羞怯，因为那是她自己向一家诗歌报投的稿件之一，说明她偶尔尝试投稿。
　　"那怎么使你来的呢？"她问。她不明白他的意思。
　　"我偶然发现的。我从那些名字和缩写的署名知道了它。
　　诗中有一小节似乎在召唤我。读一读找到它吧。我看着你别踩到水里。"乔服从了。她匆匆浏览着诗行。她的诗命名为--在阁楼上四只小箱排成排，尘土使之褪色，岁月使之损坏，很久以前把它们做成又填塞，昔日小主人而今都向青春迈。
　　四把小钥匙并排挂，
　　褪色丝带曾经漂亮又鲜艳，
　　满心欢喜系上绸丝带，
　　那是好久好久以前的一个下雨天。
　　四个小名字分刻在箱盖，
　　由幼稚的手儿刻出来，
　　箱子底下存放着
　　快乐的往事
　　嬉戏于斯，童稚相无猜，
　　倾听悦耳之节拍，
　　击打在屋顶上，
　　那是夏雨嗒嗒地落下来。
　　"梅格"刻在第一只箱，光滑又明白。
　　我深情往里看，
　　细心叠放，巧手如裁，
　　收藏丰赡，
　　把和平的生活记载--
　　馈赠与听话的男孩与女孩。
　　一件婚礼服，一纸婚姻书。
　　一只袖珍鞋，一绺婴儿发。
　　第一只箱子里没有玩具足可夸，
　　它们被取走，
　　虽旧复可嘉，
　　另有小梅格玩着它。
　　我心知，哦，快乐的小妈妈！
　　你当听见，妙曼摇篮曲，
　　节拍轻柔如夏雨。
　　"乔"的名字刻在下一只，漫漶又潦草，
　　箱内乱糟糟，
　　破损的教科书，无头的玩偶，
　　不再说话的飞鸟与走兽；
　　还有来自童话世界的泥土，
　　曾有年轻的脚丫上面走。
　　未来梦已远，
　　往事尚依稀；
　　诗稿仅存半，故事没边际，
　　冷冷热热，信件也少正经意，
　　任性的孩子写日记，
　　而今斑驳青春期；
　　此身孤寂，
　　仔细听，如泣如诉悲凉意--
　　"我当被爱，爱情宁有期？"
　　声声滴落夏雨季。
　　我的贝思！这只箱差刻有你的名，
　　洁净无纤尘，
　　热泪常涤洗，
　　纤手爱抚勤。
　　死神认你作圣徒，
　　神性超然绝凡尘。
　　无边哀情中我们默然拾掇，
　　神龛中你遗物如圣--
　　银玲不再摇响，
　　你的小帽，临终犹戴头顶，
　　还有永寂的凯瑟琳，依然美丽，
　　与门上的天使为邻；
　　监狱般的痛苦，
　　囚不住你无悲的歌声，
　　永远地温柔轻盈，
　　与夏雨相和相应。
　　最后一只箱盖熠熠闪光--
　　传说成真不再是梦想，
　　那是一个勇敢骑士的盾牌，
　　"艾美"，字迹瓦蓝、金黄。
　　箱中放着她的束发带，
　　还有舞会之后的舞鞋，
　　小心放置的花儿已经枯萎，
　　扇子曾为之效力；
　　情人节花哨卡片，余炽犹燃，
　　林林总总，每一件都曾分享，
　　一个女孩的担心、娇羞与希望，
　　记录下少女的心路辉煌。
　　如今出水芙蓉娇美万状，
　　听！婚礼钟声银铃般回响荡漾，
　　欢乐的节拍，
　　如夏雨清澈滴响。
　　四只小箱排成排，
　　尘土使之褪色，岁月使之损坏，
　　祸福使得她们明白，
　　去爱，去劳作，在她们风华年代。
　　姐妹四人，暂有离分，
　　未曾相失，只有一个先行。
　　不朽的爱之神力，
　　使他与姐妹更亲更近。
　　哦，箱中的物品，
　　请求上帝赐与灵光，
　　赐与她们幸福安康，
　　更美更善更久长，
　　生命的华章经久奏响，
　　如旋律令心潮激荡，
　　心灵在飞翔欢唱，
　　永久沐浴着雨后艳阳。
　　Ｊ．Ｍ．
　　"那是首很蹩脚的诗，但我是有感而作的。那一天，我感到非常孤独，靠在装破布的袋子上大哭了一常我绝没有想到它能讲述故事，"乔说着，把教授珍藏这许久的诗撕碎了。
　　"让它去吧，它已完成了使命。等我读完她记录小秘密的褐皮书，我会读到她的新作的，"教授笑着说。他注视着纸片在风中飞散。"是的，"他诚挚地补充道，"我读了那首诗，心里想，她有痛苦，她感到孤独，她将在真正的爱情中找到安慰。我心中充满了爱，充满了对她的爱，难道我不应该去对她说：'假如这爱不是太微不足道，以上帝的名义，接受它吧，我也希望能接受到爱。'""所以你就来查明它是不是微不足道，结果发现那是我需要的宝贵东西，"乔低声地说。
　　"虽然你那样客气地欢迎我，开始我没有勇气那样想。可是不久我就开始希望。然后我就对自己说：'即便为爱而死我也要得到！'我会那么做的！"巴尔先生叫道。他挑战似地点着头，仿佛笼罩他们的薄雾便是障碍，要他去克服或者勇敢地将之摧毁。
　　乔想，那太美妙了。她决心无愧于她的骑士，虽然他并没有衣着华丽，骑着战马昂然前行。
　　"什么事让你离开这么久？"过了一会儿，她问道。她发现，问一些机密问题，得到愉快的回答，这多么悦人，所以她保持不了安静。
　　"让我离开实属不易。但是，我没有勇气将你从那么幸福的家里带走，直到我能有希望为你提供一个幸福之家。那要经过很长时间，也许还得努力工作。我除了一点点学问，没有财产。我怎能要求你为我这么个又穷又老的人放弃那么多东西呢？""你穷我乐意。我忍受不了一个有钱的丈夫，"乔决然说道。然后她用更柔和的声调补充道："别害怕贫穷，我早就尝尽了贫穷的滋味，贫穷不再能使我恐惧。为我所爱的人们工作我感到幸福。别说你自己老了--四十正当年。即便你七十岁，我也不由地爱你！"教授被深深打动了，要是他能拿出他的手帕，他早就拿出来了。可是他双手抓着东西没法拿，于是乔为他擦去了眼泪。她接过去一两件东西，一边笑着说--"我也许是好胜，可是现在谁也不能说我越出本分了，因为女人的特殊使命便是为人擦眼泪，忍辱负重。我要承受我那一份，弗里德里克，我要帮着挣钱养家。这一点你得拿定主意，否则我决不去那儿，"她坚定地补充道。同时，他试图拿回物品。
　　"我们会看到我们的未来的。乔，耐心等待一段长时间，好吗？我得离开去独自工作。我必须先帮助我的孩子们，因为，即便是为了你，我也不能对明娜失信。你能原谅我吗？能幸福地希望、等待着吗？""是的，我知道我能，因为我们相互爱着，那其他的一切便都无足轻重了。我也有我的责任和工作。即使是为了你而忽视了它们，我也不会快活。所以没必要慌忙或焦躁。你可以在西部尽你的责任，我在这里干我的。我们俩都幸福地做着最好的打算，把将来交由上帝安排。""哦，卿予我这么大的希望与勇气。我除了一颗盛满爱的心和一双空手，没有别的可以给你了，"教授叫道，他完全不能自持了。
　　乔从来、从来就学不会规矩。他们站在台阶上，他说出那些话，乔只是将双手放进他的手里，温柔地低语道："现在不空了。"然后，她俯身在雨伞下亲吻了她的弗里德里克。这真算是出格了。可是，即使那一群栖息在树篱上的拖尾巴麻雀是人类，她也会那样做，因为她真的忘乎所以了。除了她自己的幸福，她完全顾不了其他的事了。这是他们俩一生中最幸福的时刻，尽管这一刻是以非常简单的形式出现的。暗夜、风暴、孤独已经过去，迎候他们的是家庭的光明、温暖与宁静。乔高兴地说着"欢迎你回家！"将她的心上人领进屋，关上了门。
  
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一二三四五六七~~~
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Chapter Forty-five Daisy and Demi

I cannot feel that I have done my duty as humble historian of the March family, without devoting at least one chapter to the two most precious and important members of it. Daisy and Demi had now arrived at years of discretion, for in this fast age babies of three or four assert their rights, and get them, too, which is more than many of their elders do. If there ever were a pair of twins in danger of being utterly spoiled by adoration, it was these prattling Brookes. Of course they were the most remarkable children ever born, as will be shown when I mention that they walked at eight months, talked fluently at twelve months, and at two years they took their places at table, and behaved with a propriety which charmed all beholders. At three, Daisy demanded a `needler', and actually made a bag with four stitches in it. She likewise set up housekeeping in the sideboard, and managed a microscopic cooking stove with a skill that brought tears of pride to Hannah's eyes, while Demi learned his letters with his grandfather, who invented a new mode of teaching the alphabet by forming letters with his arms and legs, thus uniting gymnastics for head and heels. The boy early developed a mechanical genius which delighted his father and distracted his mother, for he tried to imitate every machine he saw, and kept the nursery in a chaotic condition, with his `sewinsheen', a mysterious structure of string, chairs, clothespins, and spools, for wheels to go `wound and wound'. Also a basket hung over the back of a chair, in which he vainly tried to hoist his too confiding sister, who, with feminine devotion, allowed her little head to be bumped till rescued, when the young inventor indignantly remarked, "Why, Marmar, dat's my lellywaiter, and me's trying to pull her up."

Though utterly unlike in character, the twins got on remarkably well together, and seldom quarreled more than thrice a day. Of course, Demi tyrannized over Daisy, and gallantly defended her from every other aggressor, while Daisy made a galley slave of herself, and adored her brother as the one perfect being in the world. A rosy, chubby, sunshiny little soul was Daisy, who found her way to everybody's heart, and nestled there. One of the captivating children, who seem made to be kissed and cuddled, adorned and adored like little goddesses, and produced for general approval on all festive occasions. Her small virtues were so sweet that she would have been quite angelic if a few small naughtinesses had not kept her delightfully human. It was all fair weather in her world, and every morning she scrambled up to the window in her little nightgown to look our, and say, no matter whether it rained or shone, "Oh, pitty day, oh, pitty day!" Everyone was a friend, and she offered kisses to a stranger so confidingly that the most inveterate bachelor relented, and baby-lovers became faithful worshipers.

"Me loves evvybody," she once said, opening her arms, with her spoon in one hand, and her mug in the other, as if eager to embrace and nourish the whole world.

As she grew, her mother began to feel that the Dovecote would be blessed by the presence of an inmate as serene and loving as that which had helped to make the old house home, and to pray that she might be spared a loss like that which had latelytaught them how long they had entertained an angel unawares. Her grandfather often called her `Beth', and her grandmother watched over her with untiring devotion, as if trying to atone for some past mistake, which no eye but her own could see.

Demi, like a true Yankee, was of an inquiring turn, wanting to know everything, and often getting much disturbed because he could not get satisfactory answers to his perpetual "What for?"

He also possessed a philosophic bent, to the great delight of his grandfather, who used to hold Socratic conversations with him, in which the precocious pupil occasionally posed his teacher, to the undisguised satisfaction of the womenfolk.

"What makes my legs go, Dranpa?" asked the young philosopher, surveying those active portions of his frame with a meditative air, while resting after a go-to-bed frolic one night.

"It's your little mind, Demi," replied the sage, stroking the yellow head respectfully.

"What is a little mine?"

"It is something which makes your body move, as the spring made the wheels go in my watch when I showed it to you."

"Open me. I want to see it go wound."

"I can't do that any more than you could open the watch. God winds you up, and you go till He stops you."

"Does I?" And Demi's brown eyes grew big and bright as he took in the new thought. "Is I wounded up like the watch?"

"Yes, but I can't show you how, for it is done when we don't see."

Demi felt his back, as if expecting to find it like that of the watch, and then gravely remarked, "I dess Dod does it when I's asleep."

A careful explanation followed, to which he listened so attentively that his anxious grandmother said, "My dear, do you think it wise to talk about such things to that baby? He's getting great bumps
over his eyes, and learning to ask the most unanswerable questions."
"If he is old enough to ask the question he is old enough to receive true answers. I am not putting the thoughts into his head, but helping him unfold those already there. These children are wiser than we are, and I have no doubt the boy understands every word I have said to him. Now, Demi, tell me where you keep your mind."

If the boy had replied like Alcibiades, "By the gods, Socrates, I cannot tell," his grandfather would not have been surprised, but when, after standing a moment on one leg, like a meditative youngstork, he answered, in a tone of calm conviction, "In my little belly," the old gentleman could only join in Grandma's laugh, and dismiss the class in metaphysics.

There might have been cause for maternal anxiety, if Demi had not given convincing proofs that he was a true boy, as well as a budding philosopher, for often, after a discussion which caused Hannah to prophesy, with ominous nods, "That child ain't long for this world," he would turn about and set her fears at rest by some of the pranks with which dear, dirty, naughty little rascals distract and delight their parent's souls.

Meg made many moral rules, and tried to keep them, but what mother was ever proof against the winning wiles, the ingenious evasions, or the tranquil audacity of the miniature men and women who so early show themselves accomplished Artful Dodgers?

"No more raisins, Demi. They'll make you sick," says Mamma to the young person who offers his services in the kitchen with unfailing regularity on plum-pudding day.

"Me likes to be sick."

"I don't want to have you, so run away and help Daisy make patty cakes."

He reluctantly departs, but his wrongs weigh upon his spirit, and by-and-by when an opportunity comes to redress them, he outwits Mamma by a shrewd bargain.

"Now you have been good children, and I'll play anything you like," says Meg, as she leads her assistant cooks upstairs, when the pudding is safely bouncing in the pot.

"Truly, Marmar?" asks Demi, with a brilliant idea in his well-powdered head.

"Yes, truly. Anything you say," replies the shortsighted parent, preparing herself to sing, "The Three Little Kittens" half a dozen times over, or to take her family to "Buy a penny bun," regardless of wind or limb. But Demi corners her by the cool reply...

"Then we'll go and eat up all the raisins."

Aunt Dodo was chief playmate and confidante of both children, and the trio turned the little house topsy-turvy. Aunt Amy was as yet only a name to them, Aunt Beth soon faded into a pleasantly vague memory, but Aunt Dodo was a living reality, and they made the most of her, for which compliment she was deeply grateful. But when Mr. Bhaer came, Jo neglected her playfellows, and dismay and desolation fell upon their little souls. Daisy, who was fond of going about peddling kisses, lost her best customer and became bankrupt. Demi, with infantile penetration, soon discovered that Dodo like to play with `the bear-man' better than she did him, but though hurt, he concealed his anguish, for he hadn't the heart to insult a rival who kept a mine of chocolate drops inhis waistcoat pocket, and a watch that could be taken out of its case and freely shaken by ardent admirers.

Some persons might have considered these pleasing liberties as bribes, but Demi didn't see it in that light, and continued to patronize the `the bear-man' with pensive affability, while Daisy bestowed her small affections upon him at the third call, and considered his shoulder her throne, his arm her refuge, his gifts treasures surpassing worth.

Gentlemen are sometimes seized with sudden fits of admiration for the young relatives of ladies whom they honor with their regard, but this counterfeit philoprogenitiveness sits uneasily upon them, and does not deceive anybody a particle. Mr. Bhaer's devotion was sincere, however likewise effective--for honesty is the best policy in love as in law. He was one of the men who are at home with children, and looked particularly well when little faces made a pleasant contrast with his manly one. His business, whatever it was, detained him from day to day, but evening seldom failed to bring him out to see--well, he always asked for Mr. March, so I suppose he was the attraction. The excellent papa labored under the delusion that he was, and reveled in long discussions with the kindred spirit, till a chance remark of his more observing grandson suddenly enlightened him.

Mr. Bhaer came in one evening to pause on the threshold of the study, astonished by the spectacle that met his eye. Prone uponthe floor lay Mr. March, with his respectable legs in the air, and beside him, likewise prone, was Demi, trying to imitate the attitude with his own short, scarlet-stockinged legs, both grovelers so seriously absorbed that they were unconscious of spectators, till Mr. Bhaer laughed his sonorous laugh, and Jo cried out, with a scandalized face...

"Father, Father, here's the Professor!"

Down went the black legs and up came the gray head, as the preceptor said, with undisturbed dignity, "Good evening, Mr. Bhaer. Excuse me for a moment. We are just finishing our lesson. Now, Demi, make the letter and tell its name."

"I knows him!" And, after a few convulsive efforts, the red legs tok the shape of a pair of compasses, and the intelligent pupil triumphantly shouted, "It's a We, Dranpa, it's a We!"

"He's a born Weller," laughed Jo, as her parent gathered himself up, and her nephew tried to stand on his head, as the only mode of expressing his satisfaction that school was over.

"What have you been at today, bubchen?" asked Mr. Bhaer, picking up the gymnast.

"Me went to see little Mary."

"And what did you there?"

"I kissed her," began Demi, with artless frankness. "Prut! Thou beginnest early. What did the little Mary say to that?" asked Mr. Bhaer, continuing to confess the young sinner, who stood upon the knee, exploring the waistcoat pocket.

"Oh, she liked it, and she kissed me, and I liked it. Don't little boys like little girls?" asked Demi, with his mouth full, and an air of bland satisfaction.

"You precious chick! Who put that into your head?" said Jo, enjoying the innocent revelation as much as the Professor.

"`Tisn't in mine head, it's in mine mouf," answered literal Demi, putting out his tongue, with a chocolate drop on it, thinking she alluded to confectionery, not ideas.

"Thou shouldst save some for the little friend. Sweets to the sweet, mannling." And Mr. Bhaer offered Jo some, with a look that made her wonder if chocolate was not the nectar drunk by the gods. Demi also saw the smile, was impressed by it, and artlessy inquired. ..

"Do great boys like great girls, to, 'Fessor?"

Like young Washington, Mr. Bhaer `couldn't tell a lie', so he gave the somewhat vague reply that he believed they did sometimes, in a tone that made Mr. March put down his clothesbrush, glance at Jo's retiring face, and then sink into his chair, looking as if the `precocious chick' had put an idea into his head that was both sweet and sour.

Why Dodo, when she caught him in the china closet half an hour afterward, nearly squeezed the breath out of his little body with a tender embrace, instead of shaking him for being there, and why she followed up this novel performance by the unexpected gift of a big slice of bread and jelly, remained one of the problems over which Demi puzzled his small wits, and was forced to leave unsolved forever.



第四十五章 黛西和德米

　　我感到，作为一个恭顺的马奇家族编史家，如不至少用一个章节的篇幅讲述两个最宝贝、最重要的家庭成员，我便没有尽到责任。现在黛西和德米已到了解事年龄。在这个高速发展的时代，三四岁的孩子便维护起自己的权利来，他们也能得到权利，在这方面他们比许多长辈优越。假如说有这么一对双胞胎面临着完全被宠坏的危险，那便是这两个喁喁学语的小布鲁克。当然，他们是所有孩子中最出色的，我提及下面的事实便可说明。他们八个月会走路，十二个月能流利地说话，两岁时便能上桌子吃饭了，而且行为得体，惹人喜爱不已。三岁时，黛西便要"针活儿"，还真的做了一个缝了四条线的袋子。她还在餐具柜上从事家政，技术熟练地操作着一个极小的烹调炉，使罕娜流出了骄傲的眼泪。而德米在跟爷爷学着字母。爷爷发明了一种新的教字母方式，用他的胳膊和腿组成字母，这样把头和脚的锻炼并为一体。这男孩很早就显露出机械方面的天才，使爸爸高兴，妈妈惊喜。因为，他试图仿制所有他见过的机器，使育儿室总是凌乱不堪。
　　他的"缝纫器"--一个古怪的构件，用线头、椅子、晒衣夹组成，还有线轴，那是"圈啊圈（转啊转）"的轮子。另一把椅子背上还挂着个篮子，轻信的妹妹坐在篮子里。他徒劳地想把她扯上来。妹妹带着女性的献身精神，听凭她的小脑袋撞来撞去，直到妈妈前来搭救。而小发明家愤怒地说道："干嘛？妈妈，那是我的升降机，我正在吊她上来呢。"虽然双胞胎性格完全不同，他们相处得还是非常好，一天中极少有争吵三次以上的。当然，德米对黛西横行霸道，却英勇地护卫着她不受任何别的侵略者的侵犯；而黛西把自己当成划船的奴隶，她崇拜哥哥，认为他是世上完美无缺的人。
　　黛西是个面色红润、身体圆胖、快快活活的小东西，她讨每个人的欢心，并舒舒服服地在大家心中安顿下来。这个有魅力的小家伙似乎生来就是让人亲吻、拥抱、打扮，喜爱的，像个小女神。去所有喜庆场合，有了她是让大家赞许的，她的小小德行那样美好。要不是一些小淘气行为使她带着不安分的天性，她就是个十足的天使了。她的世界，总是阳光灿烂。
　　每天早晨，她身穿小睡袍，爬到窗口向外看，不管下雨还是天晴，她总说："噢，考（好）天！""噢，考天！"她那样信任地让陌生人亲吻，使得最顽固的独身者也动了怜爱之心，爱孩子的人们更是深情切切。
　　"西西爱每一个人，"有一次她这么说。她一手拿着汤匙，另一只手拿着杯子，伸开双臂，仿佛渴望拥抱、滋养整个世界。
　　随着她的成长，妈妈开始感到，像那曾使老屋舒适的人一样，鸽屋存在着这样一个安静可爱的人儿，是上帝的赐福。
　　她祈祷免受那样的损失。那种损失近来使他们懂得他们曾那么长时间无意识地拥有了一个天使。她的爷爷常叫她"贝思"，奶奶带着不知疲倦的专注神情注视着她，仿佛试图补偿过去的某种过失。这种过失只有她才能看见。
　　德米像个真正的美国人，他生性好奇，所有的事都想知道。他常常把自己弄得非常不安，因为他无穷的问题"做什么用的？"得不到满意的回答。
　　他还有着哲学家的倾向，使爷爷非常高兴。爷爷常和他进行苏格拉底式的谈话，谈话中那早慧的学生有时向老师提出问题，使妇人们露出掩饰不住的赞赏之情。
　　"爷爷，是什么使我的腿走路？"一天晚上，上床嬉闹后歇息时，年轻的哲学家带着沉思的表情打量着他身体的活跃部分问道。
　　"是你的小脑袋，德米，"哲人抚摸着他那金黄色的脑袋恭敬地回答。
　　"小脑太（袋）是什么呢？"
　　"是使你身体活动的东西，就像我手表里的发条使齿轮转动那样。我给你看过的。""把我打开吧，我想看着它卷（转）动。""那我可做不到，就像你不能打开手表一样。上帝给你上了发条，你就走着，直到他止住你。""是这样吗？"德米接受了这个新的思想，棕色眼睛变得又大又亮。"我就像个手表给上了发条？""是的，可是我不能告诉你是怎样上的，因为上的时候我们没看到。"德米摸着自己的后背，好像期待发现那里就和手表背面一样，然后他严肃地说道："我猜抢（想），上帝在我睡着了的时候上的发条。"接着爷爷仔细解释，他那样人神地听着，使得奶奶焦急地说："亲爱的，你以为对孩子说这种事明智吗？他眼睛上方的头骨隆得好高，越来越聪明，已会问回答不了的问题了。""要是他长大了，能问问题了，也就能得到真实的回答。
　　我不是往他脑袋里灌输思想，而是帮他解决已经存在的问题。
　　这些孩子比我们聪明。我不怀疑那孩子能听懂我说的每一个字。好了，德米，告诉我，你的思想放在那里？"假如男孩子像亚西比德那样回答，"的的确确，苏格拉底，我说不上"，他的爷爷不会吃惊的。可是，他单脚独立了一会儿，像一只沉思着的小鹳鸟，然后以一种深信不疑的平静语调回答："在我的小肚子里。"老先生只好加入奶奶的笑声中，结束他的玄学课。
　　要不是德米拿出了令人信服的证据，说明他既是一个初露头角的哲学家，也是个道地的男孩子，他也许会引起母亲的焦虑。那些讨论常常会引得罕娜点着头预言："那孩子呆在这世上不会久。"可是他转眼就来了些恶作剧，使她消除了担心。那些可爱、肮脏、淘气的小坏蛋们就用这些恶作剧使他们的父母又是烦躁又是欢喜。
　　梅格制定了许多道德准则，并试图执行。但是，什么样的母亲经得住他们迷人的诡计、巧妙的遁辞或者镇定的放肆呢？而这些微型的男人、女人们那么早就显示出他们耍手腕蒙骗的才能了。
　　"不许再吃葡萄干了，德米，你会生病的，"妈妈对小伙子说。这一天在做葡萄干布叮他在厨房要求帮忙，无止境地定时来要。
　　"德米喜欢生玻"
　　"我这里不需要你，你走开去帮黛西做小馅饼吧。"他不情愿地离开了。但是受到的委屈压在心头，不一会儿，弥补的机会来临，他用精明的交易智胜了妈妈。
　　"好了，你们都是乖孩子。现在你们喜欢什么，我就做什么，"这时，布丁已安全地放在罐子里发着了，梅格领着她的助手厨师们上楼时这么说。
　　"当真，妈妈？"德米问，他那搽了许多粉的脑袋冒出了个绝妙的主意。
　　"是的，当真。你说的任何事，"缺乏远见的妈妈回答。她自己准备着把"三只小猫"唱上五六遍，或者豁出去带她的一家去"买一便士小面包"，可是德米把她逼入绝境，他冷静地回答--"那么，我们去吃光所有的葡萄干。"乔乔姨是两个孩子的主要玩伴和知心人。这三人把小房子弄得乱七八糟。艾美姨对他们来说还只不过是个名字。贝思姨很快便淡化为令人愉快的模糊记忆。然而，乔乔姨是个活生生的实体，他们充分地利用她，而乔也深深感激他们表示的敬意。可是，巴尔先生来了，乔便忽视了她的玩伴们。两个小家伙感到不悦、委屈。黛西喜欢到处兜售亲吻，现在失去了她最好的顾客，破了产。德米以那幼儿的观察力很快就发现，与他相比，乔乔姨更喜欢和"大胡子"在一起玩。虽然受了伤害，但是他隐藏其他的痛苦，因为他不想侮辱对手。
　　这个对手的背心口袋里总是巧克力糖块的宝库，还有块手表，可以拿出盒子，任由热情的欣赏者摇动。
　　有的人可能会把这些放纵看作贿赂，可是德米不这么看。
　　他继续带着沉着的殷勤惠顾"大胡子"。而黛西在他第三次来访时便赐予他小小的爱慕之情，把他的肩当作她的宝座，他的胳膊当作藏身处，他的礼物当作无价之宝。
　　先生们有时会突然一阵兴起，赞美起女士们的小亲戚们来，这是为了女士们的缘故。但是这种假装的爱子女心不自然地附加于他们身上，一点儿也骗不了人。巴尔先生的爱心却是真诚的，同样也是有效的--因为，在爱情方面和在法律上一样，诚实为上策。他是那种和孩子在一起无拘束的人，当小脸蛋和他的男子汉脸膛成为有趣的对照时，他看上去特别开心。他的事务，不管那是什么，一天天地留住了他。晚上他很少不来看--嗯，他总是说来看马奇先生，所以，我推测是他有吸引力。优秀的爸爸误解了，认定他的确有吸引力。带着类似的情绪，他沉迷于长时间的讨论中，直到他那更具观察力的孙子偶然说出一句话，使他突然明白过来。
　　一天晚上，巴尔先生来访，他停在书房门口，眼前的景象使他大为惊讶。马奇先生躺在地板上，令人尊敬的双腿跷在空中。德米在他身边同样躺着，试着用他那穿着红色长统袜的短腿模仿爷爷的姿势。两个躺着的人神情那样严肃专注，竟意识不到有旁观者，直到巴尔先生发出洪亮的笑声，乔带着震惊的神色叫道--"爸爸，爸爸，教授来了！"一双黑腿落了下去了，一颗灰脑袋抬了起来。导师带着泰然自若的庄重神情说："晚上好，巴尔先生。请稍等片刻，我们就要结束课程了。好了，德米，摆出这个字母，说出它的名字。""我认识它！"拼命努力了一番，那双红腿摆出了一副圆规的样子，然后聪明的学生得意洋洋地叫道："这是个Ｗｅ，爷爷，这是个'Ｗｅ'！""他是个天生的韦勒，"乔笑道。她爸爸收回了双腿。她侄子试图倒立，那是他对下课了感到满意的唯一表达方式。
　　"你今天做什么了，ｂüｂｃｈｅｎ？"巴尔先生拉起了体操运动员，问他。
　　"德米去看小玛丽了。"
　　"在那干什么了？"
　　"我亲了她，"德米天真率直地开口说。
　　"噗！你开始得太早了。小玛丽怎么说的？"巴尔先生问道。他继续听取着小罪犯的忏悔。小罪犯站在他的膝上，探索着他的背心口袋。
　　"噢，她喜欢那样，她也亲了我。我也喜欢。难道小男孩不喜欢小女孩吗？"德米补充道。他嘴巴塞满了，美滋滋地嚼着。
　　"你这个小宝贝，是谁把那放到你脑子里的？"乔问。她和教授一样欣赏这个天真的揭秘。
　　"不是放在我脑子里，而是放在我嘴趴（巴）里，"抠字眼的德米回答。他伸出舌头，上面有一颗巧克力糖块，他以为乔指的是糖果，不是指思想。
　　"你该给小朋友留一些。糖果给亲爱的嘛，小大人。"巴尔先生给了乔一些。他的表情使乔奇怪巧克力是不是众神饮用之酒。德米也看到了他的笑容，他为之感动，率直地询问道--"大男孩也喜欢大女孩吧，教授？"就像小华盛顿那样，巴尔先生"不能说谎"。于是，他含含糊糊地回答他相信有时是这样的。他的语调使得马奇先生放下了衣刷，瞥了瞥乔羞怯的面容，然后沉进椅子里，他看上去好像那"早熟的孩子"把一个又甜又酸的念头放入了他的脑子。
　　半小时后，乔乔姨在瓷器橱里捉住了德米，她没有因为他跑进那里而揍他，而是亲切地搂抱着他的小身体，差点让他透不过起来。作出这种新举动之后，又给了他一个意外的礼物，一大块涂了果酱的面包。乔乔姨为什么这样做呢？德米的小脑袋百思不得其解，被迫永远放弃这个问题不去解决它了。
  
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Chapter Forty-four My Lord and Lady

"Please, Madam Mother, could you lend me my wife for half an hour? The luggage has come, and I've been making hay of Amy's Paris finery, trying to find some things I want," said Laurie, coming in the next day to find Mrs. Laurence sitting in her mother's lap, as if being made `the baby' again.
"Certainly. Go, dear, I forgot that you have any home but this." And Mrs. March pressed the white hand that wore the wedding ring, as if asking pardon for her maternal covetousness.
"I shouldn't have come over if I could have helped it, but I can't get on without my little woman any more than a..."
"Weathercock can without the wind," suggested Jo, as he paused for a simile. Jo had grown quite her own saucy self again since Teddy came home.
"Exactly, for Amy keeps me pointing due west most of the time, with only an occasional whiffle round to the south, and I haven't had an easterly spell since I was married. Don't know anything about the north, but am altogether salubrious and balmy, hey, my lady?"
"Lovely weather so far. I don't know how long it will last, but I'm not afraid of storms, for I'm learning how to sail my ship. Come home, dear, and I'll find your bootjack. I suppose that's what you are rummaging after among my things. Men are so helpless, Mother," said Amy, with a matronly air, which delighted her husband.
"What are you going to do with yourselves after you get settled?" asked Jo, buttoning Amy's cloak as she used to button her pinafores.
"We have our plans. We don't mean to say much about them yet, because we are such very new brooms, but we don't intend to be idle. I'm going into business with a devotion that shall delight Grandfather, and prove to him that I'm not spoiled. I need something of the sort to keep me steady. I'm tired of dawdling, and mean to work like a man."
"And Amy, what is she going to do?" asked Mrs. March, well pleased at Laurie's decision and the energy with which he spoke.
"After doing the civil all round, and airing our best bonnet, we shall astonish you by the elegant hospitalities of our mansion, the brilliant society we shall draw about us, and the beneficial influence we shall exert over the world at large. That's about it, isn't it, Madame Recamier?" asked Laurie with a quizzical look at Amy.
"Time will show. Come away, Impertinence, and don't shock my family by calling me names before their faces," answered Amy, resolving that there should be a home with a good wife in it before she set up a salon as a queen of society.
"How happy those children seem together!" observed Mr. March, finding it difficult to become absorbed in his Aristotle after the young couple had gone.
"Yes, and I think it will last," added Mrs. March, with the restful expression of a pilot who has brought a ship safely into port.
"I know it will. Happy Amy!" And Jo sighed, then smiled brightly as Professor Bhaer opened the gate with an impatient push.
Later in the evening, when his mind had been set at rest about the bootjack, Laurie said suddenly to his wife, "Mrs. Laurence."
"My Lord!"
"That man intends to marry our Jo!"
"I hope so, don't you, dear?"
"Well, my love, I consider him a trump, in the fullest sense of that expressive word, but I do wish he was a little younger and a good deal richer."
"Now, Laurie, don't be too fastidious and worldly-minded. If they love one another it doesn't matter a particle how old they are nor how poor. Women never should marry for money..." Amy caught herself up short as the words escaped her, and looked at her husband, who replied, with malicious gravity...
"Certainly not, though you do hear charming girls say that they intend to do it sometimes. If my memory serves me, you once thought it your duty to make a rich match. That accounts, perhaps, for your marrying a good-for-nothing like me."
"Oh, my dearest boy, don't, don't say that! I forgot you were rich when I said `Yes'. I'd have married you if you hadn't a penny, and I sometimes wish you were poor that I might show how much I love you." And Amy, who was very dignified in public and very fond in private, gave convincing proofs of the truth of her words.
"You don't really think I am such a mercenary creature as I tried to be once, do you? It would break my heart if you didn't believe that I'd gladly pull in the same boat with you, even if you had to get your living by rowing on the lake."
"Am I an idiot and a brute? How could I think so, when you refused a richer man for me, and won't let me give you half I want to now, when I have the right? Girls do it every day, poor things, and are taught to think it is their only salvation, but you had better lessons, and though I trembled for you at one time, I was not disappointed, for the daughter was true to the mother's teaching. I told Mamma so yesterday, and she looked as glad and grateful as if I'd given her a check for a million, to be spent in charity. You are not listening to my moral remarks, Mrs. Laurence." And Laurie paused, for Amy's eyes had an absent look, though fixed upon his face.
"Yes, I am, and admiring the mple in your chin at the same time. I don't wish to make you vain, but I must confess that I'm prouder of my handsome husband than of all his money. Don't laugh, but your nose is such a comfort to me." And Amy softly caressed the well-cut feature with artistic satisfaction.
Laurie had received many compliments in his life, but never one that suited him better, as he plainly showed though he did laugh at his wife's peculiar taste, while she said slowly, "May I ask you a question, dear?"
"Of course, you may."
"Shall you care if Jo does marry Mr. Bhaer?"
"Oh, that's the trouble is it? I thought there was something in the dimple that didn't quite suit you. Not being a dog in the manger, but the happiest fellow alive, I assure you I can dance at Jo's wedding with a heart as light as my heels. Do you doubt it, my darling?"
Amy looked up at him, and was satisfied. Her little jealous fear vanished forever, and she thanked him, with a face full of love and confidence.
"I wish we could do something for that capital old Professor. Couldn't we invent a rich relation, who shall obligingly die out there in Germany, and leave him a tidy little fortune?" said Laurie, when they began to pace up and down the long drawing room, arm in arm, as they were fond of doing, in memory of the chateau garden.
"Jo would find us out, and spoil it all. She is very proud of him, just as he is, and said yesterday that she thought poverty was a beautiful thing."
"Bless her dear heart! She won't think so when she has a literary husband, and a dozen little professors and professorins to support. We won't interfere now, but watch our chance, and do them a good turn in spite of themselves. I owe Jo for a part of my education, and she believes in people's paying their honest debts, so I'll get round her in that way."
"How delightful it is to be able to help others, isn't it? That was always one of my dreams, to have the power of giving freely, and thanks to you, the dream has come true."
"Ah, we'll do quantities of good, won't we? There's one sort of poverty that I particularly like to help. Out-and-out beggars get taken care of, but poor gentle folks fare badly, because they won't ask, and people don't dare to offer charity. Yet there are a thousand ways of helping them, if one only knows how to do it so delicately that it does not offend. I must say, I like to serve a decayed gentleman better than a blarnerying beggar. I suppose it's wrong, but I do, though it is harder."
"Because it takes a gentleman to do it," added the other member of the domestic admiration society.
"Thank you, I'm afraid I don't deserve that pretty compliment. But I was going to say that while I was dawdling about abroad, I saw a good many talented young fellows making all sorts of sacrifices, and enduring real hardships, that they might realize their dreams. Splendid fellows, some of them, working like heros, poor and friendless, but so full of courage, patience, and ambition that I was ashamed of myself, and longed to give them a right good lift. Those are people whom it's a satisfaction to help, for if they've got genius, it's an honor to be allowed to serve them, and not let it be lost or delayed for want of fuel to keep the pot boiling. If they haven't, it's a pleasure to comfort the poor souls, and keep them from despair when they find it out."
"Yes, indeed, and there's another class who can't ask, and who suffer in silence. I know something of it, for I belonged to it before you made a princess of me, as the king does the beggarmaid in the old story. Ambitious girls have a hard time, Laurie, and often have to see youth, health, and precious opportunities go by, just for want of a little help at the right minute. People have been very kind to me, and whenever I see girls struggling along, as we used to do, I want to put out my hand and help them, as I was helped."
"And so you shall, like an angel as you are!" cried Laurie, resolving, with a glow of philanthropic zeal, to found and endow an institution for the express benefit of young women with artistic tendencies. "Rich people have no right to sit down and enjoy themselves, or let their money accumulate for others to waste. It's not half so sensible to leave legacies when one dies as it is to use the money wisely while alive, and enjoy making one's fellow creatures happy with it. We'll have a good time ourselves, and add an extra relish to our own pleasure by giving other people a generous taste. Will you be a little Dorcal, going about emptying a big basket of comforts, and filling it up with good deeds?"
"With all my heart, if you will be a brave St. Martin, stopping as you ride gallantly through the world to share your cloak with the beggar."
"It's a bargain, and we shall get the best of it!"
So the young pair shook hands upon it, and then paced happily on again, feeling that their pleasant home was more homelike because they hoped to brighten other homes, believing that their own feet would walk more uprightly along the flowery path before them, if they smoothed rough ways for other feet, and feeling that their hearts were more closely knit together by a love which could tenderly remember those less blest than they.



第四十四章 我的夫君，我的太太

　　"母亲大人，请将我妻子借给我半小时行吗？行李到了，我在找一些我要的东西，把艾美的漂亮衣服全翻乱了，"第二天，劳里进来说。他发现劳伦斯太太坐在妈妈的膝上，好像又成了"宝宝"。
　　"当然行，去吧，亲爱的。我忘了你除了这个家还有个家。"马奇太太按了按那白皙的戴着结婚戒指的手，仿佛为她母性的贪爱请求原谅。
　　"我要是能应付，就不会过来了。可是，没有我的小女人，我就没法生活，就像一个--""没有风的风向标，"劳里停住找比喻的时候，乔提示道。
　　自打特迪回来，乔恢复了活泼的老样子。
　　"没错。大部分时候艾美让我向西，只是偶尔朝南，结婚以来我还没有朝向过东，北面我是一无所知。但是我觉得那完全有益健康，适得其所。嘿，夫人！""至今为止天气不错。我不知道这能持续多久。可是我不怕风暴，因为我在学着怎样驾驶我的船。回家吧，亲爱的，我给你找脱靴器，我猜你在我的东西里翻找的就是它。妈妈，真是拿男人们没办法，"艾美带着主妇似的神气说，这使她丈夫欢喜。
　　"你们安定下来后，打算做些什么呢？"乔问，她在给艾美扣着斗篷扣，就像以前为她扣围裙那样。
　　"我们有计划。我们还不打算大事张扬，因为我们刚刚成家。但我们不打算虚掷时光。我将专心致志地去经商，这样会让爷爷高兴。我要向他证明我没给宠坏。我需要这样使自己稳定下来。我厌倦了无所事事，得像个真正的男人那样地工作。""艾美呢？她打算做什么？"马奇太太问。劳里说话时的决然神情与活力使她非常高兴。
　　"我们向四邻尽过礼仪，展示过我们最好的帽子后，将在家里广延宾客，让上流的社交界为之注目，给我们带来良好的社会声望，到时让你们大吃一惊。就这样，是不是，雷卡米耶夫人？"劳里神情滑稽地看着艾美问道。
　　"时间会证明的。走吧，你这莽汉。别当我家人的面骂我，让他们吃惊，"艾美回答。她打定主意，家里先得有个好妻子，然后她才能作为社交王后建立一个沙龙。
　　"这两个孩子在一起似乎多幸福啊！"马奇先生说。小俩口走后，他发现很难再专心于地的亚里斯多德了。
　　"是的，我看这幸福能持久，"马奇太太补充道。她神色平静，就像领航员将船安全地引入了港口。
　　"我知道会持久的，幸福的艾美！"乔叹了口气。然后，随着巴尔教授急躁地推门进屋，她欢快地笑了。
　　晚上迟些时候，劳里脑子里放下了脱靴器之事。艾美转来转去，摆放着她的新艺术珍品。突然劳里对妻子说："劳伦斯太太。""夫君！""那个人打算娶我们的乔！""我希望这样，你呢，亲爱的？""嗯，宝贝，我看他是个好人，按照那个富有表现力的词语的绝对意义，是这样。但是我真的希望他稍稍年轻些，大大富有些。""哎唷，劳里，别太挑剔，别太世俗。只要他们相爱，不管多老多穷，都没一点儿关系。女人们决不能为钱嫁人--"话一出口，艾美突然噎住了，她看着丈夫，而他故作严肃地答腔了。
　　"当然不能，尽管有时确实能听到迷人的姑娘说她们打算这样做。要是我记得不错的话，你曾经认为嫁个富人就是你的责任。也许这能说明你为什么嫁给我这样一无是处的家伙。""哦，我最亲爱的男孩。别，别那样说！当我说'愿意'时，忘了你是有钱人。即使你一文不名，我也会嫁给你的。我有时希望你是穷人，我好表示出我多么爱你，"艾美说。在公众场合她很庄重，私下却充满柔情。她令人信服地证实了她话语的真实性。
　　"你没有当真以为我唯利是图，像我曾试着做的那样，是不是？要是你不相信我乐意与你同舟，哪怕你得靠在湖上划舟谋生，那我会伤心的。""我是个傻瓜，没感觉吗？你拒绝了一个更有钱的人而嫁给我，现在我有权给你东西，可我想给你的东西你一半都不要，我怎么能那么想呢？姑娘们每天都那样想，可怜的人们，她们受到告诫，认为那是她们的唯一出路。你受到的教育较好，尽管我一度曾为你担心。我没有失望，因为女儿信守了妈妈的教诲。昨天我跟妈妈这样说了，她看上去又高兴又感激，好像我给了她一张百万元支票，让她用来行善。劳伦斯太太，你没有在听我的道德评论？"劳里住了口，因为艾美眼睛虽然盯着他的脸，表情却心不在焉。
　　"不，我听着呢，同时我在欣赏着你下巴上的笑靥。我不想使你虚有其表，可是我得承认，较之丈夫所有的钱，我更为他的英俊自豪。别笑，你的鼻子对我是那么大的安慰。"艾美带着艺术的满足感轻柔地抚摸着那个轮廓优美的鼻子。
　　劳里一生受到过许多赞美，但没有比这更合他心意的。虽然他笑话着妻子这种特别的趣味，但他还是明白地表示出他的高兴。艾美慢慢说道："我可以问你个问题吗，亲爱的？""当然可以。""假如乔真的嫁给了巴尔先生，你会在乎吗？""噢，那是烦恼所在，是不？我就知道那笑靥里有什么东西不合你的意。我不是个占着马槽的狗，我是世界上最幸福的人。我向你保证，在乔的婚礼上，我会带着和脚跟一样轻快的心情跳舞。你怀疑这点，宝贝？"
　　艾美抬头看着他，满意了。她最后的一点忌妒与担心永远消失了。她感谢了他，神情充满爱与自信。
　　"但愿我们能为那个好人老教授做点什么。我们能不能编造出个富亲戚，他乐于助人，死在了德国，留给他一大笔遗产？"劳里说。这时他们手挽手，开始顺着长客厅来回踱步。
　　他们喜欢这样，来纪念城堡花园。
　　"乔会查明真相，毁了一切的，就像教授现在这样，乔为他非常自豪。昨天她还说，她认为贫穷是件美好的事。""上帝保佑她！要是她有个学者丈夫，还有五六个小男女教授要养活，她就不会这样想了。现在我们别去干涉，等待机会吧。到时我们为她们做点好事，那由不得他们了。我受到的教育一部分得归功于乔。她相信人们应该诚实地偿还债务，所以我将用那种方法说服她。""能够帮助别人多么令人愉快，是不是？有力量慷慨施舍那一直是我的一个梦想。感谢你，我的梦想实现了。""哦，我们尽可能地多做善事，好不好？有一种穷人我特别愿意帮助。十足的乞丐得到了照顾，可是，有身份的穷人日子过得很差，因为他们不求人，人们也不敢贸然提供捐助。
　　然而还是有上千种办法帮助他们，只要人们知道怎样巧妙地去做，而不致冒犯他们。我得说，我宁愿为一个破落的绅士效劳，也不愿去帮一个巧言哄骗的叫花子。我想这样不对。但我就是这样做，虽然它更难做。""因为只有一个绅士才能做到这一点，"爱家协会的另一名成员补充道。
　　"谢谢，恐怕我不配受到那么好的赞美。但是，我正打算说，我在国外闲荡时，看到许多有天赋的年轻人为了实现他们的梦想做着各种牺牲，忍受着真正的艰难困苦。他们中的一些人非常杰出。他们像勇士般地工作，他们贫穷，无朋无友，却充满勇气、耐心、意志。我为自己惭愧，很想给予他们适当的救助。我乐于帮助这些人。因为，假如他们有天才，则得以为他们效劳，不让天才由于缺乏足够的燃料而埋没或者耽搁，这是个能获得美誉的善举。假如他们没有天才，也能够安慰这些可怜的人，在他们发现自己并非天才时而免于绝望，总归是件好事。""的确是这样。还有一种人不愿求助，甘心默默受苦。我知道点情况，因为是你把我变成了公主，就像古老故事里国王对婢女所做的那样。在这之前，我也属于那一种人。劳里，有抱负的姑娘们生活得不易。她们常常看着青春、健康以及宝贵的机会过去，只是因为缺少适时的小小帮助。人们一直对我非常好。只要我看到姑娘们像我以前那样奋力挣扎前进，我就想伸手帮助他们，就像我得到帮助一样。""你就这样做吧，你这样像个天使！"劳里叫道。他脸上洋溢着干慈善事业的热情，决心专门为有艺术倾向的女人们设立一个机构，并捐赠基金。"富人们无权坐在那里独自享乐，或者积累钱财让别人浪费。死后留下遗产，不如活着时明智地花钱，享受使同胞幸福的乐趣，这样更为聪明。我们将过得非常幸福。而且，慷慨地施舍于人，会额外增加我们的快乐。你愿意做一个小多加，四外走动，倒空大篮子里的安慰，再装满善行吗？""要是你愿做勇敢的圣马丁，英勇地穿行于人世间，驻步让乞丐们合穿你的外套的话，我真心地愿意。""就这么决定了，我们将尽量做好。"于是一对新人为着心灵的交合紧紧握手，然后又幸福地继续踱起步来。他们感到他们温馨的小家更加亲切，因为，他们希望能使别的家庭快乐。他们相信，要是他们为别人踏平了岐岖之路，他们自己走在繁花似锦的小路上，双脚会走得更直；他们感到，爱心能使他们温柔地记起不如他们幸运的人们，这种爱心使他俩的心贴得更紧了。
  
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Chapter Forty-three Surprises

Jo was alone in the twilight, lying on the old sofa, looking at the fire, and thinking. It was her favorite way of spending the hour of dusk. No one disturbed her, and she used to lie there on Beth's little red pillow, planning stories, dreaming dreams, or thinking tender thoughts of the sister who never seemed far away. Her face looked tired, grave, and rather sad, for tomorrow was her birthday, and she was thinking how fast the years went by, how old she was getting, and how little she seemed to have accomplished. Almost twenty-five, and nothing to show for it. Jo was mistaken in that. There was a good deal to show, and by-and-by she saw, and was grateful for it.
"An old maid, that's what I'm to be. A literary spinster, with a pen for a spouse, a family of stories for children, and twenty years hence a morsel of fame, perhaps, when, like poor Johnson, I'm old and can't enjoy it, solitary, and can't share it, independent, and don't need it. Well, I needn't be a sour saint nor a selfish sinner, and, I dare say, old maids are very comfortable when they get used to it, but..." And there Jo sighed, as if the prospect was not inviting.
It seldom is, at first, and thirty seems the end of all things to five-and-twenty. But it's not as bad as it looks, and one can get on quite happily if one has something in one's self to fall back upon. At twenty-five, girls begin to talk about being old maids, but secretly resolve that they never will be. At thirty they say nothing about it, but quietly accept the fact, and if sensible, console themselves by remembering that they have twenty more useful, happy years, in which they may be learning to grow old gracefully. Don't laugh at the spinsters, dear girls, for often very tender, tragic romances are hidden away in the hearts that beat so quietly under the sober gowns, and many silent sacrifices of youth, health, ambition, love itself, make the faded faces beautiful in God's sight. Even the sad, sour sisters should be kindly dealt with, because they have missed the sweetest part of life, if for no other reason. And looking at them with compassion, not contempt, girls in their bloom should remember that they too may miss the blossom time. That rosy cheeks don't last forever, that silver threads will come in the bonnie brown hair, and that, by-and-by, kindness and respect will be as sweet as love and admiration now.
Gentlemen, which means boys, be courteous to the old maids, no matter how poor and plain and prim, for the only chivalry worth having is that which is the readiest to pay deference to the old, protect the feeble, and serve womankind, regardless of rank, age, or color. Just recollect the good aunts who have not only lectured and fussed, but nursed and petted, too often without thanks, the scrapes they have helped you out of, the tips they have given you from their small store, the stitches the patient old fingers have set for you, the steps the willing old feet have taken, and gratefully pay the dear old ladies the little attentions that women love to receive as long as they live. The bright-eyed girls are quick to see such traits, and will like you all the better for them, and if death, almost the only power that can part mother and son, should rob you of yours, you will be sure to find a tender welcome and maternal cherishing from some Aunt Priscilla, who has kept the warmest corner of her lonely old heart for `the best nevvy in the world'.
Jo must have fallen asleep (as I dare say my reader has during this little homily), for suddenly Laurie's ghost seemed to stand before her, a substantial, lifelike ghost, leaning over her with the very look he used to wear when he felt a good deal and didn't like to show it. But, like Jenny in the ballad...


She could not think it he,
and lay staring up at him in startled silence, till he stooped
and kissed her. Then she knew him, and flew up, crying joyfully . ..
"Oh my Teddy! Oh my Teddy!"
"Dear Jo, you are glad to see me, then?"
"Glad! My blessed boy, words can't express my gladness. Where's Amy?"
"Your mother has got her down at Meg's. We stopped there by the way, and there was no getting my wife out of their clutches."
"Your what?" cried Jo, for Laurie uttered those two words with an unconscious pride and satisfaction which betrayed him.
"Oh, the dickens! Now I've done it." And he looked so guilty that Jo was down on him like a flash.
"You've gone and got married!"
"Yes, please, but I never will again." And he went down upon his knees, with a penitent clasping of hands, and a face full of mischief, mirth, and triumph.
"Actually married?"
"Very much so, thank you."
"Mercy on us. What dreadful thing will you do next?" And Jo fell into her seat with a gasp.
"A characteristic, but not exactly complimentary, congratulation," returned Laurie, still in an abject attitude, but beaming with satisfaction.
"What can you expect, when you take one's breath away, creeping in like a burglar, and letting cats out of bags like that? Get up, you ridiculous boy, and tell me all about it."
"Not a word, unless you let me come in my old place, and promise not to barricade."
Jo laughed at that as she had not done for many a long day, and patted the sofa invitingly, as she said in a cordial tone, "The old pillow is up garret, and we don't need it now. So, come and fess, Teddy."
"How good it sounds to hear you say `Teddy'! No one ever calls me that but you." And Laurie sat down with an air of great content.
"What does Amy call you?"
"My lord."
"That's like her. Well, you look it." And Jo's eye plainly betrayed that she found her boy comelier than ever.
The pillow was gone, but there was a barricade, nevertheless, a natural one, raised by time absence, and change of heart. Both felt it, and for a minute looked at one another as if that invisible barrier cast a little shadow over them. It was gone directly however, for Laurie said, with a vain attempt at dignity...
"Don't I look like a married man and the head of a family?" "Not a bit, and you never will. You've grown bigger and bonnier, but you are the same scapegrace as ever."
"Now really, Jo, you ought to treat me with more respect," began Laurie, who enjoyed it all immensely.
"How can I, when the mere idea of you, married and settled, is so irresistibly funny that I can't keep sober!" answered Jo, smiling all over her face, so infectiously that they had another laugh, and then settled down for a good talk, quite in the pleasant old fashion.
"It's no use your going out in the cold to get Amy, for they are all coming up presently. I couldn't wait. I wanted to be the one to tell you the grand surprise, and have `first skim' as we used to say when we squabbled about the cream."
"Of course you did, and spoiled your story by beginning at the wrong end. Now, start right, and tell me how it all happened. I'm pining to know."
"Well, I did it to please Amy," began Laurie, with a twinkle that made Jo exclaim...
"Fib number one. Amy did it to please you. Go on, and tell the truth, if you can, sir."
"Now she's beginning to marm it. Isn't it jolly to hear her?" said Laurie to the fire, and the fire glowed and sparkled as if it quite agreed. "It's all the same, you know, she and I being one. We planned to come home with the Carrols, a month or more ago, but they suddenly changed their minds, and decided to pass another winter in Paris. But Grandpa wanted to come home. He went to please me, and I couldn't let him go along, neither could I leave Amy, and Mrs. Carrol had got English notions about chaperons and such nonsense, and wouldn't let Amy come with us. So I just settled the difficulty by saying, `Let's be married, and then we can do as we like'."
"Of course you did. You always have things to suit you."
"Not always." And something in Laurie's voice made Jo say hastily...
"How did you ever get Aunt to agree?"
"It was hard work, but between us, we talked her over, for we had heaps of good reasons on our side. There wasn't time to write and ask leave, but you all liked it, had consented to it by-and-by, and it was only `taking time by the fetlock', as my wife says."
"Aren't we proud of those two word, and don't we like to say them?" interrupted Jo, addressing the fire in her turn, and watching with delight the happy light it seemed to kindle in the eyes that had been so tragically gloomy when she saw them last. "A trifle, perhaps, she's such a captivating little woman I can't help being proud of her. Well, then Uncle and Aunt were there to play propriety. We were so absorbed in one another we were of no mortal use apart, and that charming arrangement woul make everything easy all round, so we did it."
"When, where, how?" asked Jo, in a fever of feminine interest and curiosity, for she could not realize it a particle.
"Six weeks ago, at the American consul's, in Paris, a very quiet wedding of course, for even in our happiness we didn't forget dear little Beth."
Jo put her hand in his as he said that, and Laurie gently smoothed the little red pillow, which he remembered well.
"Why didn't you let us know afterward?" asked Jo, in a quieter tone, when they had sat quite still a minute.
"We wanted to surprise you. We thought we were coming directly home, at first, but the dear old gentleman, as soon as we were married, found he couldn't be ready under a month, at least, and sent us off to spend our honeymoon wherever we liked. Amy had once called Valrosa a regular honeymoon home, so we went there, and were as happy as people are but once in their lives. My faith! Wasn't it love among the roses!"
Laurie seemed to forget Jo for a minute, and Jo was glad of it, for the fact that he told her these things so freely and so naturally assured her that he had quite forgiven and forgotten. She tried to draw away her hand, but as if he guessed the thought that prompted the half-involuntary impulse, Laurie held it fast, and said, with a manly gravity she had never seen in him before...
"Jo, dear, I want to say one thing, and then we'll put it by forever. As I told you in my letter when I wrote that Amy had been so kind to me, I never shall stop loving you, but the love is altered, and I have learned to see that it is better as it is. Amy and you changed places in my heart, that's all. I think it was meant to be so, and would have come about naturally, if I had waited, as you tried to make me, but I never could be patient, and so I got a heartache. I was a boy then, headstrong and violent, and it took a hard lesson to show me my mistake. For it was one, Jo, as you said, and I found it out, after making a fool of myself. Upon my word, I was so tumbled up in my mind, at one time, that I didn't know which I loved best, you or Amy, and tried to love you both alike. But I couldn't, and when I saw her in Switzerland, everything seemed to clear up all at once. You both got into your right places, and I felt sure that it was well off with the old love before it was on with the new, that I could honestly share my heart between sister Jo and wife Amy, and love them dearly. Will you believe it, and go back to the happy old times when we first knew one another?"
"I'll believe it, with all my heart, but, Teddy, we never can be boy and girl again. The happy old times can't come back, and we mustn't expect it. We are man and woman now, with sober work to do, for playtime is over, and we must give up frolicking. I'm sure you feel this. I see the change in you, and you'll find it in me. I shall miss my boy, but I shall love the man as much, and admire him more, because he means to be what I hoped he would. We can't be little playmates any longer, but we will be brother and sister, to love and help one another all our lives, won't we, Laurie?"
He did not say a word, but took the hand she offered him, and laid his face down on it for a minute, feeling that out of the grave of a boyish passion, there had risen a beautiful, strong friendship to bless them both. Presently Jo said cheerfully, for she didn't the coming home to be a sad one, "I can't make it true that you children are really married and going to set up housekeeping. Why, it seems only yesterday that I was buttoning Amy's pinafore, and pulling your hair when you teased. Mercy me, how time does fly!"
"As one of the children is older than yourself, you needn't talk so like a grandma. I flatter myself I'm a `gentleman growed' as Peggotty said of David, and when you see Amy, you'll find her rather a precocious infant," said Laurie, looking amused at her maternal air.
"You may be a little older in years, but I'm ever so much older in feeling, Teddy. Women always are, and this last year has been such a hard one that I feel forty."

"Poor Jo! We left you to bear it alone, while we went pleasuring. You are older. Here's a line, and there's another. Unless you smile, your eyes look sad, and when I touched the cushion, just now, I found a tear on it. You've had a great deal to bear, and had to bear it all alone. What a selfish beast I've been!" And Laurie pulled his own hair, with a remorseful look.
But Jo only turned over the traitorous pillow, and answered, in a tone which she tried to make more cheerful, "No, I had Father and Mother to help me, and the dear babies to comfort me, and the thought that you and Amy were safe and happy, to make the troubles here easier to bear. I am lonely, sometimes, but I dare say it's good for me, and..."
"You never shall be again," broke in Laurie, putting his arm about her, as if to fence out every human ill. "Amy and I can't get on without you, so you must come and teach `the children' to keep house, and go halves in everything, just as we used to do, and let us pet you, and all be blissfully happy and friendly together."
"If I shouldn't be in the way, it would be very pleasant. I begin to feel quite young already, for somehow all my troubles seemed to fly away when you came. You always were a comfort, Teddy." And Jo leaned her head on his shoulder, just as she did years ago, when Beth lay ill and Laurie told her to hold on to him.
He looked down at her, wondering if she remembered the time, but Jo was smiling to herself, as if in truth her troubles had all vanished at his coming.
"You are the same Jo still, dropping tears about one minute, and laughing the next. You look a little wicked now. What is it, Grandma?"
"I was wondering how you and Amy get on together."
"Like angels!"
"Yes, of course, but which rules?"
"I don't mind telling you that she does now, at least I let her think so, it pleases her, you know. By-and-by we shall take turns, for marriage, they say, halves one's rights and doubles one's duties."
"You'll go on as you begin, and Amy will rule you all the days of your life."
"Well, she does it so imperceptibly that I don't think I shall mind much. She is the sort of woman who knows how to rule well. In fact, I rather like it, for she winds one round her finger as softly and prettily as a skein of silk, and makes you feel as if she was doing you a favor all the while."
"That ever I should live to see you a henpecked husband and enjoying it!" cried Jo, with uplifted hands.
It was good to see Laurie square his shoulders, and smile with masculine scorn at that insinuation, as he replied, with his "high and mighty" air, "Amy is too well-bred for that, and I am not the sort of man to submit to it. My wife and I respect ourselves and one another too much ever to tyrannize or quarrel."
Jo like that, and thought the new dignity very becoming, but the boy seemed changing very fast into the man, and regret mingled with her pleasure.
"I am sure of that. Amy and you never did quarrel as we used to. She is the sun and I the wind, in the fable, and the sun managed the man best, you remember."
"She can blow him up as well as shine on him," laughed Laurie. "such a lecture as I got at Nice! I give you my word it was a deal worse than any or your scoldings, a regular rouser. I'll tell you all about it sometime, she never will, because after telling me that she despised and was ashamed of me, she lost her heart to the despicable party and married the good-for-nothing."
"What baseness! Well, if she abuses you, come to me, and I'll defend you."
"I look as if I needed it, don't I?" said Laurie, getting up and striking an attitude which suddenly changed from the imposing to the rapturous, as Amy's voice was heard calling, "Where is she? Where's my dear old Jo?"
In trooped the whole family, and everyone was hugged and kissed all over again, and after several vain attempts, the three wanderers were set down to be looked at and exulted over. Mr. Laurence, hale and hearty as ever, was quite as much improved as the others by his foreign tour, for the crustiness seemed to be early gone, and the old-fashioned courtliness had received a polish which made it kindlier than ever. It was good to see him beam at `my children', as he called the young pair. It was better still to see Amy pay him the daughterly duty and affection which completely won his old heart, and best of all, to watch Laurie revolve about the two, as if never tired of enjoying the pretty picture they made.
The minute she put her eyes upon Amy, Meg became conscious that her own dress hadn't a Parisian air, that young Mrs. Mofffat would be entirely eclipsed by young Mrs. Laurence, and that `her ladyship' was altogether a most elegant and graceful woman. Jo thought, as she watched the pair, "How well they look together! I was right, and Laurie has found the beautiful, accomplished girl who will become his home better than clumsy old Jo, and be a pride, not a torment tohim." Mrs. March and her husband smiled and nodded at each other with happy faces, for they saw that their youngest had done well, not only in worldly things, but the better wealth of love, confidence, and happiness.
For Amy's face was full of the soft brightness which betokens a peaceful heart, her voice had a new tenderness in it, and the cool, prim carriage was changed to a gentle dignity, both womanly and winning. No little affectations marred it, and the cordial sweetness of her manner was more charming than the new beauty or the old grace, for it stamped her at once with the unmistakable sign of the true gentlewoman she had hoped to become.
"Love has done much for our little girl," said her mother softly.
"She has had a good example before her all her life, my dear," Mr. March whispered back, with a loving look at the worn face and gray head beside him.
Daisy found it impossible to keep her eyes off her `pitty aunty', but attached herself like a lap dog to the wonderful chatelaine full of delightful charms. Demi paused to consider the new relationship before he compromised himself by the rash acceptance of a bribe, which took the tempting form of a family of wooden bears from Berne. A flank movement produced an unconditional surrender, however, for Laurie knew where to have him.
"Young man, when I first had the honor of making your acquaintance you hit me in the face. Now I demand the satisfaction of a gentleman," and with that the tall uncle proceeded to toss and tousle the small nephew in a way that damaged his philosophical dignity as much as it delighted his boyish soul.
"Blest if she ain't in silk from head to foot? Ain't it a relishin' sight to see her settin' there as fine as a fiddle, anch a happy procession as filed away into the little dining room! Mr. March proudly escorted Mrs. Laurence. Mrs. March as proudly leaned on the arm of `my son'. The old gentleman took Jo, with a whispered, "You must be my girl now," and a glance at the empty corner by thefire, that made Jo whisper back, "I'll try to fill her place, sir.
The twins pranced behind, feeling that the millennium was at hand, for everyone was so busy with the newcomers that they were left to revel at their own sweet will, and you may be sure they made the most of the opportunity. Didn't they steal sips of tea, stuff gingerbread ad libitum, get a hot biscuit apiece, and as a crowning trespass, didn't they each whisk a captivating little tart into their tiny pockets, there to stick and crumble treacherously, teaching them that both human nature and a pastry are frail? Burdened with the guilty consciousness of the sequestered tarts, and fearing that Dodo's sharp eyes would pierce the thin disguise of cambric and merino which hid their booty, the little sinners attached themselves to `Dranpa', who hadn't his spectacles on. Amy, who was handed about like refreshments, returned to the parlor on Father Laurence's arm. The others paired off as before, and this arrangement left Jo companionless. She did not mind it at the minute, for she lingered to answer Hannah's eager inquiry.
"Will Miss Amy ride in her coop (coupe), and use all them lovely silver dishes that's stored away over yander?"
"Shouldn't wonder if she drove six white horses, ate off gold plate, and wore diamonds and point lace every day. Teddy thinks nothing too good for her," returned Jo with infinite satisfaction.
"No more there is! Will you have hash or fishballs for breakfast?" asked Hannah, who wisely mingled poetry and prose.
"I don't care." And Jo shut the door, feeling that food was an uncongenial topic just then. She stood a minute looking at the party vanishing above, and as Demi's short plaid legs toiled up the last stair, a sudden sense of lonliness came over her so strongly that she looked about her with dim eyes, as if to find something to lean upon, for even Teddy had deserted her. If she had known what birthday gift was coming every minute nearer and nearer, she would not have said to herself, "I'll weep a little weep when I go to bed. It won't do to be dismal now." Then she drew her hand over her eyes, for one of her boyish habits was never to know where her handkerchief was, and had just managed to call up a smile when there came a knock at the porch door.
She opened with hospitable haste, and started as if another ghost had come to surprise her, for there stood a tall bearded gentleman, beaming on her from the darkness like a midnight sun.
"Oh, Mr. Bhaer, I am so glad to see you!" cried Jo, with a clutch, as if she feared the night would swallow him up before she could get him in.
"And I to see Miss Marsch, but no, you haf a party," and the Professor paused as the sound of voices and the tap of dancing feet came down to them.
"No, we haven't, only the family. My sister and friends have just come home, and we are all very happy. Come in, and make one of us."
Though a very social man, I think Mr. Bhaer would have gone decorously away, and come again another day, but how could he, when Jo shut the door behind him, and bereft him of his hat? Perhaps her face had something to do with it, for she forgot to hide her joy at seeing him, and showed it with a frankness that proved irresistible to the solitary man, whose welcome far exceeded his boldest hopes.
"If I shall not be Monsieur de Trop, I will so gladly see them all. You haf been ill, my friend?"
He put the question abruptly, for, as Jo hung up his coat, the light fell on her face, and he saw a change in it.
"Not ill, but tired and sorrowful. We have had trouble since I saw you last."
"Ah, yes, I know. My heart was sore for you when I heard that," And he shook hands again, with such a sympathetic face that Jo felt as if no comfort could equal the look of the kind eyes, the grasp of the big, warm hand.
"Father, Mother, this is my friend, Professor Bhaer," she said, with a face and tone of such irrepressible pride and pleasure that she might as well have blown a trumpet and opened the door with a flourish.
If the stranger had any doubts about his reception, they were set at rest in a minute by the cordial welcome he received. Everyone greeted him kindly, for Jo's sake at first, but very soon they liked him for his own. They could not help it, for he carried the talisman that opens all hearts, and these simple people warmed to him at once, feeling even the more friendly because he was poor. For poverty enriches those who live above it, and is a sure passport to truly hospitable spirits. Mr. Bhaer sat looking about him with the air of a traveler who knocks at a strange door, and when it opens, finds himself at home. The children went to him like bees to a honeypot, and establishing themselves on each knee, proceeded to captivate him by rifling his pockets, pulling his beard, and investigating his watch, with juvenile audacity. The women telegraphed their approval to one another, and Mr. March, feeling that he had got a kindred spirit, opened his choicest stores for his guest's benefit, while silent John listened and enjoyed the talk, but said not a word, and Mr. Laurence found it impossible to go to sleep.
If Jo had not been otherwise engaged, Laurie's behavior would have amused her, for a faint twinge, not of jealousy, but something like suspicion, caused that gentleman to stand aloof at first, and observe the newcomer with brotherly circumspection. But it did not last long. He got interested in spite of himself, and before he knew it, was drawn into the circle. For Mr. Bhaer talked well in this genial atmosphere, and did himself justice. He seldom spoke to Laurie, but he looked at him often, and a shadow would pass across his face, as if regretting his own lost youth, as he watched the young man in his prime. Then his eyes would turn to Jo so wistfully that she would have surely answered the mute inquiry if she had seen it. But Jo had her own eyes to take care of, and feeling that they could not be trusted, she prudently kept them on the little sock she was knitting, like a model maiden aunt.
A stealthy glance now and then refreshed her like sips of fresh water after a dusty walk, for the sidelong peeps showed her several propitious omens. Mr. Bhaer's face had lost the absent-minded expression, and looked all alive with interest in the present moment, actually young and handsome, she thought, forgetting to compare him with Laurie, as she usually did strange men, to their great detriment. Then he seemed quite inspired, though the burial customs of the ancients, to which the conversation had strayed, might not be considered an exhilarating topic. Jo quite glowed with triumph when Teddy got quenched in an argument, and thought to herself, as she watched her father's absorbed face, "How he would enjoy having such a man as my Professor to talk with every day!" Lastly, Mr. Bhaer was dressed in a new suit of black, which made him look more like a gentleman than ever. His bushy hair had been cut and smoothly brushed, but didn't stay in order long, for in exciting moments, he rumpled it up in the droll way he used to do, and Jo liked it rampantly erect better than flat, because she thought it gave his fine forehead a Jove-like aspect. Poor Jo, how she did glorify that plain man, as she sat knitting away so quietly, yet letting nothing escape her, not even the fact that Mr. Bhaer actually had gold sleeve-buttons in his immaculate wristbands.
"Dear old fellow! He couldn't have got himself up with more care if he'd been going a-wooing," said Jo to herself, and then a sudden thought born of the words made her blush so dreadfully that she had to drop her ball, and go down after it to hide her face.
The maneuver did not succeed as well as she expected, however, for though just in the act of setting fire to a funeral pyre, the Professor dropped his torch, metaphorically speaking, and made a dive after the little blue ball. Of course they bumped their heads smartly together, saw stars, and both came up flushed and laughing, without the ball, to resume their seats, wishing they had not left them.
Nobody knew where the evening went to, for Hannah skillfully abstracted the babies at an early hour, nodding like two rosy poppies, and Mr. Laurence went home to rest. The others sat round the fire, talking away, utterly regardless of the lapse of time, till Meg, whose maternal was impressed with a firm conviction that Daisy had tumbled out of be, and Demi set his nightgown afire studying the structure of matches, made a move to go.
"We must have our sing, in the good old way, for we are all together again once more," said Jo, feeling that a good shout would be a safe and pleasant vent for the jubilant emotions of her soul.
They were not all there. But no one found the words thougtless or untrue, for Beth still seemed among them, a peaceful presence, invisible, but dearer than ever, since death could not break the household league that love made disoluble. The little chair stood in its old place. The tidy basket, with the bit of work she left unfinished when the needle grew `so heavy', was still on its accustomed shelf. The beloved instrument, seldom touched now had not been moved, and above it Beth's face, serene and smiling, as in the early days, looked down upon them, seeming to say, "Be happy. I am here."
"Play something, Amy. Let them hear how much you have improved," said Laurie, with pardonable pride in his promising pupil.
But Amy whispered, with full eyes, as she twirled the faded stool, "Not tonight, dear. I can't show off tonight."
But she did show something better than brilliancy or skill, for she sang Beth's songs with a tender music in her voice which the best master could not have taught, and touched the listener's hearts with a sweeter power than any other inspiration could have given her. The room was very still, when the clear voice failed suddenly at the last line of Beth's favorite hymn. It was hard to say...
Earth hath no sorrow that heaven cannot heal;
and Amy leaned against her husband, who stood behind her, feeling that her welcome home was not quite perfect without Beth's kiss.
"Now, we must finish with Mignon's song, for Mr. Bhaer sings that," said Jo, before the pause grew painful. And Mr. Bhaer cleared his throat with a gratified "Hem!" as he stepped into the corner where Jo stood, saying...
"You will sing with me? We go excellently well together."
A pleasing fiction, by the way, for Jo had no more idea of
music than a grasshopper. But she would have consented if he had
proposed to sing a whole opera, and warbled away, blissfully regardless
of time and tune. It didn't much matter, for Mr. Bhaer
sang like a true German, heartily and well, and Jo soon subsided
into a subdued hum, that she might listen to the mellow voice that
seemed to sing for her alone.
Know'st thou the land where the citron blooms,
used to be the Professor's favorite line, for `das land' meant Germany to him, but now he seemed to dwell, with peculiar warmth and melody, upon the words...

There, oh there, might I with thee, O, my beloved, go and one listener was so thrilled by the tender invitation that she longed to say she did know the land, and would joyfully depart thither whenever he liked The song was considered a great success, and the singer retired covered with laurels. But a few minutes afterward, he forgot his manners entirely, and stared at Amy putting on her bonnet, for she had been introduced simply as `my sister', and on one had called her by her new name since her came. He forgot himself still further when Laurie said, in his most gracious manner, at parting...
"My wife and I are very glad to meet you, sir. Please remember that there is always a welcome waiting for you over the way."
Then the Professor thanked him so heartily, and looked so suddenly illuminated with satisfaction, that Laurie thought him the most delightfully demonstrative old fellow he ever met.
"I too shall go, but I shall gladly come again, if you will gif me leave, dear madame, for a little business in the city will keep me here some days."
He spoke to Mrs. March, but he looked at Jo, and the mother's voice gave as cordial an assent as did the daughter's eyes, for Mrs. March was not so blind to her children's interest as Mrs. Moffat supposed.
"I suspect that is a wise man," remarked Mr. March, with placid satisfaction, from the hearthrug, after the last guest had gone.
"I know he is a good one," added Mrs. March, with decided approval, as she wound up the clock.
"I thought you'd like him," was all Jo said, as she slipped away to her bed.
She wondered what the business was that brought Mr. Bhaer to the city, and finally decided that he had been appointed to some great honor, somewhere, but had been too modest to mention the fact. If she had seen his face when, safe in his own room, he looked at the picture of a severe and rigid young lady, with a good deal of hair, who appeared to be gazing darkly into futurity, it might have thrown some light upon the subject, especially when he turned off the gas, and kissed the picture in the dark.



第四十三章 惊喜

　　薄暮时分，乔独自躺在那张旧沙发上。她看着炉火，脑中思索着。她最喜欢这样打发黄昏时光。没有人打扰她。她总是躺在那儿，枕着贝思的小红枕头，策划着故事，做着梦，充满柔情地想着妹妹，妹妹似乎根本没有远离她。乔的神情疲惫、严肃、有点悲哀。明天是她的生日。她在想，时光过得多快啊，她就要一天天老起来了，她的成就似乎太少。马上就二十五岁，却没什么可以炫耀的。乔想错了，她有许多可以炫耀的东西，不久以后，他便发现了它们，并为之感到快意。
　　"我就要成为老姑娘了，一个喜欢文学的老处女、以笔为配偶，一组故事当孩子，也许二十年之后会有点儿名气。像可怜的约翰逊那样，我老了时，不能享受名气之乐了，便会感到孤独。没人与我分享快乐，我自食其力，也不需要名气了。哎呀，我不必去做一个愁眉不展的圣徒，或者一个只顾自己的罪人。我敢说，老姑娘们只要习惯了独身生活，会过得很舒服的。可是--"想到这，乔叹了口气，仿佛这种前景并不诱人。
　　首先，这前景是难以诱人。对二十五岁的人来说，到了三十岁便万事休矣。然而，事情并不像看上去那样糟。如果一个女人有了归依，她便能过得相当幸福。到了二十五岁，姑娘们便开始谈起要成为老姑娘了，但却暗下决心，决不这样。
　　上了三十岁，她们不再提及此事，而是默默地接受事实。聪明的姑娘们会想到，她们还有二十多年有益的幸福时光，可以学着优雅地打发人生，聊以自慰。亲爱的姑娘们，别笑话那些老处女们。因为，在那素净的长袍下静静跳动着的心窝里，往往隐藏着非常温柔的爱情悲剧。为青春、健康、抱负以及爱情本身默默作出的牺牲，使褪色的容颜在上帝的面前变得美丽了。即便是悲哀、阴郁的老姑娘们，也应亲切地对待她们。因为，她们就是为了这才错过了人生最甜美的部分。
　　妙龄姑娘们应该怀着同情看待她们，不应看不起她们。应该记住，她们也可能会辜负大好时光，红润的面颊不会永远保持，银丝会掺进漂亮的棕发，不久以后，善良与尊敬会和现在的爱情与赞美同样甜蜜。
　　先生们，也就是男孩子们，对老姑娘们表示殷勤吧，别管她们多穷、多普通、多古板。因为，唯一值得拥有的骑士精神便是乐意向老人表示敬意，保护弱者，为妇女们服务。别考虑她们的身份、年龄及肤色，回想一下那些善良的婶子们吧，她们不仅教训过你们，数落过你们，而且也照顾、宠爱过你们，但并不常常得到你们的感谢。她们帮你们摆脱困境，从她们不多的储蓄中给你们零用钱，她们用衰老的手指耐心地为你们缝制衣服。想想她们心甘情愿为你们做的事吧。你们应该满怀感激地给那些可亲的老太太们小小的关注，妇女们只要一息尚存，就会乐于接受它们的。眼睛明亮的姑娘很快就会看出你们的这种品格，并会因之更喜欢你们。唯一能分开母与子的力量便是死亡，假如死亡夺去了你们的母亲，你们肯定会在某个普丽西拉婶子那里得到亲切的欢迎和母亲般的爱抚。在她孤寂的衰老心坎里，为她"世上最好的侄子"保留着最温暖的一角。
　　乔肯定睡着了（我敢说，在这小小的布道期间，我的读者们也睡着了），因为劳里的幻影仿佛突然站在她面前--一个实在逼真的幻影--俯身看着她，带着以前他感触良多而又不想显露出来时常有的表情。可是，就像歌谣里的珍妮--她想不到竟会是他。
　　乔躺在那儿，惊讶地默默盯着他看，直到劳里俯身吻她，这才认出他。她一跃而起，高兴地叫着--"哦，特迪！哦，我的特迪！""亲爱的乔，你见到我高兴了，对吗？""高兴！我幸运的男孩，言语表达不了我的欢喜，艾美呢？""你妈妈把她留在了梅格家。我们顺道在那儿停留了一下，我没法子将我的妻子从她们手中救出来。""你的什么？"乔叫了起来，劳里不知不觉带着洋洋自得的口气说出了这两个字，泄露了秘密。
　　"哎呀，糟了！我已经这样做了。"他看上去那样内疚，乔即刻和他过不去了。
　　"你走了，然后结了婚！"
　　"是的，请原谅。可是我决不会再结了。"他跪了下来，悔过似地握着手，脸上的表情充满淘气、欢乐与胜利。
　　"真的结了婚？"
　　"千真万确，谢谢。"
　　"我的天哪！接下来你要做什么可怕的事呢？"乔喘着气跌坐回她的位子。
　　"你的祝贺不一般，就是不大客气，"劳里回答。他一副可怜兮兮的样子，但却又满足地满脸堆笑。
　　"你像个盗贼似地溜进来，又这样子泄露出秘密，让人大吃一惊。你能期待什么呢？起来，你这傻孩子，把事情都告诉我。""一个字也不告诉你，除非你让我坐到老地方，并且保证不再跟我过不去，用枕头设障碍。"
　　听到这话乔笑了起来，她已很长时间没笑了。她逗弄地拍着沙发，友好地说："那旧枕头放到阁楼上去了，现在我们不需要它了，过来坦白交待吧，特迪。""听你叫'特迪'多么悦耳！除了你还没有谁那样叫我呢。"劳里带着非常满足的神气坐了下来。
　　"艾美叫你什么？"
　　"夫君。"
　　"这像她说的话，嗯，你看着也像。"乔的眼神分明表示：她发现她的男孩比以前更清秀了。
　　枕头没了，然而还是有着障碍--一个自然的障碍，是由时间、分离、变化了的心所造成的。两个都感到了这一点，有一会儿他们对望着，仿佛这个无形的障碍在他们身上投下了一道小小的阴影。然而，阴影很快便消失了，因为劳里徒劳地试图端着架子说话--"我看着像不像个结了婚的人和一家之主？""一点也不像，你也决不会像的。你长大些了，也更漂亮了，可是你还是以前的那个淘气鬼。""哎唷，真的，乔，你应该对我尊重些了，"劳里开口说，他对这一切很欣赏。
　　"我一想到你结了婚，安定了，就忍不住觉得那么好笑。
　　我无法保持严肃。这样我怎能尊重你？"乔回答。她满面笑容，极具感染力，结果两人又笑了起来。然后他们坐好，完全以从前那种愉快的方式细细谈了起来。
　　"你没有必要冒着严寒去接艾美。一会儿他们都会过来的。我等不及了，我想第一个告诉你这个令人惊喜的大事。我想得到那'第一瓶奶油'，就像我们从前争要奶油时说的那样。""你当然得到了，可是故事开错了头，给弄毁了。好了，开始说吧，全都告诉我，我太想知道了。""嗯，我那样做是想讨艾美的欢心，"劳里眨着眼开了口，这使乔叫了起来--"一号小谎言。是艾美想讨你的欢心。接着说，可以的话，讲实话，先生。""哎唷，她开始用太太的口气问话了。听她说话是不是令人开心？"劳里对着炉火自问道。炉火发着光，闪着亮，似乎十分赞同他。"这是一回事，要知道，她和我已结成了一体。
　　一个多月以前，我们打算和卡罗尔一家一道回来，可是他们突然改变了主意，决定在巴黎再过一个冬天。爷爷想回家了，他到那儿去是为了让我高兴，我不能让他独自走，又丢不下艾美。卡罗尔太太脑子里有些英国人的观点，什么女监护人之类的荒唐念头，她不放艾美和我们同行。于是，我便说：'我们结婚吧，这样就能随心所欲了。'就这样解决了那个难题。""你当然会那么做的，你总是事事如意。""并不总是那样。"劳里声音里有种东西，使乔赶快接话--"你们怎么得到婶婶同意的？""那可不容易。不过，别讲出去，我们说服了她。我们这一边有许许多多的理由。没有时间写信回家请求允许了，可是你们大家都高兴这样，很快都会同意的，像我妻子说的那样，这只是'抓住时间马儿的腿'。""我们真为那两个字骄傲，难道我们不喜欢说那两个字吗？"乔打断了她。这次是她对着炉火说话了。她高兴地注视着炉火，仿佛它在那双眼里燃起了幸福的火花，而她上一次看着它们却那么悲哀忧郁。
　　"也许那是桩小事。艾美是那样一个迷人的小妇人，我无法不为她骄傲。嗯，当时叔叔和婶婶在那儿当监护人，我们俩相互那么依恋着对方，分开了便什么也干不了。那个不坏的主意使一切问题迎刃而解，所以我们便结了婚。""什么时候？在哪里？怎样结的？"乔问道，她的问话充满了女人的强烈兴趣与好奇心，自己却一点儿也没意识到。
　　"六个星期前，在巴黎的美国领事馆，当然，婚礼非常安静，即便在我们的幸福时刻，我们也没忘记亲爱的小贝思。"他说到这里，乔把手伸给地握祝劳里轻轻地抚摸着那个他记得很清楚的小红枕头。
　　"我们本来想让你们大吃一惊的，开始，我们以为会直接回家的，可是我们一结完婚，我那可亲的老先生发现至少在一个月之内不能做好动身准备，所以打发我们随意去哪儿度蜜月。艾美曾把玫瑰谷叫做公认的蜜月之家，于是，我们便去了那儿，我们过得非常幸福，这种幸福人生只有这一次，千真万确，那真是玫瑰花下的爱情啊！"劳里有一会儿似乎忘掉了乔，乔感到高兴，因为他这样无拘无束，自然而然地对她讲述这些，使她确信他已完全原谅了她，忘却了以前的爱。她试图抽出手来，但是他好像猜到了，促使他作出几乎没意识到的冲动念头，紧紧地握住了她的手，他带着她不曾见过的男子汉的严肃神情说道--"乔，亲爱的，我想说件事，然后我们就把它永远丢开吧，当我写信说艾美一直对我很好时，我在那封信中说，我决不会停止对你的爱，这话是真的，但是那种爱已变了，我明白了这样更好。艾美和你在我心中变换了位置，就这么回事。我想，事情本来就是这样安排的。假如我按照你的意图去等待，这件事会自然地发生。可是我根本耐不下性子，所以弄得头疼。那时我是个孩子，任性狂暴，好不容易才认识到错误。乔，正如你说的，那确是个错误。我当了回傻瓜，才明白这一点。
　　我发誓，有一段时间我脑子里混乱不堪，搞不清楚我更爱谁，你还是艾美，我试图两人都爱，但做不到。当我在瑞士见到艾美时，一切似乎立刻明朗了。你们俩都站到了适当的位置上。我确信旧的爱完全消失了，才开始了新的爱，因此我能够坦率地与作为妹妹的乔及作为妻子的艾美交心，深深地爱着两人。你愿意相信吗？愿意回到我们初识时那段幸福的时光吗？""我愿意相信，全心全意相信。但是，特迪，我们再也不是男孩女孩了。愉快的老时光不可能回来了，我们不能这样企盼。现在我们是男人和女人，有正经的事情要做。游戏时期已经结束，我们必须停止嬉闹了，我相信你也感到了这一点。我在你身上看到了变化，你也会在我身上看到变化。我会怀念我的男孩，但是我会同样爱那个男人，更加赞赏他，因为他打算做我希望他做的事。我们不可能再当小玩伴了，但是我们会成为兄弟姐妹，我们一生都会互爱互助，是不是这样，劳里？"他什么也没说，却握住了她递过来的手，将他的脸贴在上面放了一会儿。他感到，从他那男孩气热情的坟墓中，升腾起一种美丽的牢不可破的友情，使两人都感到幸福。乔不愿使他们的归来蒙上哀愁，所以过了一会，她便愉快地说："我还是不能确信，你们两个孩子真的结了婚，要开始持家过日子了。哎呀，好像还是昨天的事，我替艾美扣围裙扣子，你开玩笑时我拽你的头发。天哪，时间过得真快！""两个孩子中有一个比你大，所以你不必像奶奶那样说话，我自以为我已经是个'长成了的先生'，像佩格蒂说戴维那样。你看到艾美时，你会发现她是个相当早熟的孩子，"劳里说，他看着她母性的神气感到好笑。
　　"你可能岁数比我大一点，可是我的心情比你老得多，特迪，女人们总是这样。而且这一年过得那样艰难，我感到我有四十岁了。""可怜的乔！我们丢下你让你独自承受了这一切，而我们却在享乐。你是老了些。这里有条皱纹，那里还有一条。除了笑时，你的眼神透着悲哀。刚才我摸过枕头时，发现上面有滴泪珠。你承受了许多痛苦，而且不得不独自忍受。我是个多么自私的家伙啊！"劳里带着自责的神色拽着自己的头发。
　　然而，乔把那出卖秘密的枕头转了过去，尽力以一种十分轻松愉快的语调回答道："不，我有爸爸妈妈帮我，有可爱的孩子安慰我，我还想到你和艾美安全、幸福，这些都使我这里的烦恼容易忍受些了。有的时候我是感到孤独，可是，我敢说那对我有好处，而且--""你再也不会孤独了，"劳里插了嘴。他用胳膊围住她，仿佛要为她挡住人生所有的艰难困苦。"我和艾美不能没有你。
　　所以你必须来教'孩子们'管家，就像我们以前那样，凡事均对半分。让我们爱抚你，让我们大家在一起快快乐乐，友好相处。""假如我不碍事的话，我当然十分乐意。我又开始感到变年轻了，你一来我所有的烦恼似乎都飞走了，你总是让人感到安慰，特迪。"乔将头靠到了劳里的肩上，就像几年前贝思生病躺在那里，劳里让她靠着那样。
　　他向下看着她，想知道她是否还记得那个时候。但是乔在暗笑着，仿佛他的到来真的使她的所有烦恼都消失了。
　　"你还是那个乔，一分钟以前掉泪，转眼又笑了。现在你看着有点淘气，想什么呢，奶奶？""我在想你和艾美在一起怎样过。""过得像天使！""那当然。开始是这样，可是谁统治呢？""我不在乎告诉你现在是她统治，至少我让她这么认为--这使她高兴，你知道。将来我们会轮流的。因为人们说，婚姻中均分权力会使责任加倍。""你会像开始那样继续下去，艾美会统治你一生。""嗯，她做得那样让人毫无察觉，我想我不会太在乎的。
　　她是那种知道如何统治好男人的妇人。事实上，我倒挺喜欢那样。她就像绕一卷丝绸一般，轻柔潇洒地将你绕在手指上，却使你感到好像她始终在为你效劳。""那我将会活着看到你成为怕老婆的丈夫，并为此高兴！"乔举起双手叫道。
　　劳里表现得不错，他挺起肩膀，带着男子汉的蔑视神情对那攻击一笑置之。他神气活现地回答："艾美有教养，不会那样做的，我也不是那种屈从的人，我妻子和我互相非常尊重，不会横强霸道，也不会争吵的。""那我相信。我和艾美从来不像我们俩那样争吵。她是那寓言故事里的太阳，我是风。记得吗？太阳对付男人最灵。""她既能对他刮风，也能照耀他。"劳里笑了。"我在尼斯受她那样的训话！我得保证那比你任何一次责骂都厉害得多--一个真正的刺激，等什么时候我来告诉你--她决不会告诉你的，因为她告诉我，说她看不起我，为我感到羞愧，而刚说完，她便爱上了那可鄙的一方，嫁给了那个一无是处的家伙。""那么恶劣！好吧，假如她再欺负你，到我这儿，我来卫护你。""看上去我需要卫护，是不是？"劳里站起来摆出架子，可这时突然听到了艾美的声音，他的威严神态马上转为狂喜。艾美叫着："她在哪？我亲爱的乔呢？"全家人成群结队进屋来了，每个人又重被拥抱亲吻。几次无效的努力后，三个旅游者不得不安坐下来，让大家看着，为他们高兴。劳伦斯先生还像以前一样老当益壮，和其他人一样，国外旅游使他变得更精神了，因为他的执拗劲好像几乎没了。他那老式的殷勤得到了改善，他比以前更慈祥了。他称一对新人为"我的孩子们"。看到他对他们微笑真是让人怡悦。更令人怡悦的是艾美对他尽着女儿般的责任与孝道，这完全赢得了他的心。最好的是看着劳里围着他们两个转，仿佛欣赏不够他俩组成的美景。
　　梅格的眼光一落到艾美身上，便意识到她自己的服装没有巴黎人的风味。小劳伦斯太太会使小莫法特太太黯然失色。
　　那位"女士"是个地地道道、非常优雅有风度的妇人。乔观察着这一对人想着："他们俩在一起看着多么般配啊！我是对的，劳里找到了美丽、出色的女孩，她比笨拙苍老的乔更适合他的家庭，她会成为他的骄傲，而不会折磨他。"马奇太太和她丈夫面露喜色，他们点头微笑着。他们看到最小的孩子不仅做事干练，待人处世知情达理，而且也得到了爱情、自信、幸福这些更好的财富。
　　艾美的表情柔和清亮，显示出内心的宁静。她的声音里具有一种新的柔情，沉着冷静的处事之风一变而为文雅端庄、亲切动人。小小的矫饰无损于她的风度，她热诚美好的举止比她以前的优雅与新婚所焕出的魅力更为迷人，因为它明白无误地立刻使她带上了一个真正的女士标记，以前她曾希望成为这样的女士。
　　"爱情使我们的小姑娘变了许多，"妈妈和蔼地说。
　　"她一生都有个好榜样，亲爱的，"马奇先生低声回答，他深情地看了一眼身旁那张憔悴的脸和灰白的头。
　　黛西的眼睛离不开她的"漂良"（漂亮）阿姨，于是就像叭儿狗似地把自己系在了女主人的腰带上，那里充满了难以抗拒的诱惑。德米先是无动于衷，怔怔地考虑这新出现的关系，后来便性急地接受了贿赂，妥协了。诱人的贿赂是从伯恩带来的一组木熊玩具。然而，一阵侧面攻击迫使他无条件地就范了，因为劳里知道怎样对付他。
　　"小伙子，我第一次有幸认识你时，你就打我的脸。现在我要求绅士般的决斗。"说着，这个高个子叔叔便开始将小侄子往上抛着，揉着，那动作既破坏了他镇定自若的尊严，也使男孩子内心喜悦。
　　"哎呀，她从头到脚穿着丝绸，你看她坐在那儿神采洋洋（飞扬），听大家叫小艾美劳伦斯夫人，这真叫人心里喜欢，"老罕娜嬷嬷咕哝着。她一边明显地在胡乱摆着桌子，一边不由地频频透过拉门朝里张望。
　　天哪，那是怎样的谈话啊！先是一人说，再换另一人说，然后大家一起说起来，都想在半小时内把三年的事讲完。幸好茶点准备好了，为大家提供了暂歇机会，也提供了吃的东西。他们再像那样谈下去，会嗓子沙哑，头昏眼花的。非常幸福的一队人马鱼贯进入了小餐厅。马奇先生自豪地护送着"劳伦斯太太"，马奇太太则骄傲地依在"我儿子"的臂上，老先生拉着乔的手，瞥了一眼炉火边那个空角落，对她耳语道："现在你得当我的女孩了。"乔双唇颤抖着低声回答："我会试着填补她的位置，先生。"那双胞胎在后面欢跃着，他们感到太平盛世就在眼前，因为大家都为新人忙着，丢下他俩任意胡作非为。可以确信他们充分利用了这个机会。他们偷偷呷了几口茶，随意吃着姜饼，每人拿了一个热松饼，他们最妄为的违禁事便是每人往小口袋里装了一个诱人的果酱馅饼，结果馅饼给弄得粘乎乎的，成了碎屑，这教育了他们，馅饼和人性一样脆弱。他们兜里藏着馅饼，心中惴惴不安，担心乔乔阿姨锐利的眼睛会穿透那薄薄的麻纱布衣和美丽奴绒线衣，那下面隐藏着他们的赃物。所以，小罪犯们紧贴着没戴眼镜的"爷衣"（爷爷）。
　　艾美刚才像茶点似地被大伙传来传去，这时靠着劳伦斯爷爷的肩臂，回到客厅，其余的人像方才进去一样两两出来了。这样一来只剩下乔没了伴儿。当时她没在意，因为她滞留在餐厅，回答着罕娜急切的询问。
　　"艾美小姐坐那四轱轳马车（双座四轮马车）吗？她用储藏的银盘子吃饭吗？""要是她驾着六匹白马，每天用金盘子吃饭，戴钻石戒指，穿针绣花边衣，我也不奇怪。特迪认为怎样待她都不过分，"乔心满意足地回答。
　　"没问题了！你早饭要什么？杂烩还是鱼丸子？"罕娜问。
　　她聪明地将无味的话题混进了带有诗意的事里。
　　"我随便。"乔关上了门，她感到此时食物不是个合适的话题。她站了一会儿，看着在楼上消失的那一帮人，当德米穿着格子呢裤的短腿艰难地爬上最后一个楼梯时，一阵突如起来的孤独感袭上了她的心头。感觉那样强烈，她眼睛模糊了。她环顾四周，仿佛想找到什么可以依靠的，因为，即便是特迪也丢弃了她。她自言自语："我等到上床时再哭，现在不能让人看出情绪消沉。"要是她知道什么样的生日礼物正分分秒秒向她逼近，她就不会这么说了。接着她的手伸向眼睛--因为她的男孩式习惯之一便是从来不知她的手绢在哪--她刚勉强挤出笑容，就听到门廊有人敲门。
　　她好客地匆匆打开门，盯住了来人，仿佛又来了个幻影使她吃惊。那里站着个留着小胡子的高个子先生，像是午夜的阳光，在黑暗中朝她微笑着。
　　"噢，巴尔先生，看到你我是多么高兴！"乔一把抓住他叫了起来，仿佛生怕还没将他弄进来，黑暗就把他吞没。
　　"见到马奇小姐我也高兴--可是，不，你们有客人--"听到楼上传来的说话声以及咚咚的脚步声，教授停住了。
　　"不，没有，只是家里人。我妹妹和朋友刚刚回家，我们都非常快乐，进来吧，加入到我们中来吧。"虽然巴尔先生善于交际，我认为他还是想有礼貌地走开，改天再来。可是，乔在他身后关上了门，拿下了他的帽子，他怎好走呢？也许她的表情起了作用，见到他，乔忘了隐瞒高兴的心情，她坦率地表露了出来，这对那孤寂的人具有异乎寻常的魅力。乔的欢迎大大超出了他最大胆的希求。
　　"要是我不成为多余的先生，我将非常高兴见到他们大家。你生病了，我的朋友？"他突然问道，因为乔在挂他的大衣时，脸色暗了下来，他注意到了这个变化。
　　"不是病了，而是疲倦、痛苦。离开你后我们有了灾难。""哦，是的，我知道。我听说了，我为你感到心疼。"他又握了握她的手。他的表情那样充满同情，乔感到好像任何安慰都比不了这种仁爱的眼神和温暖大手的紧握。
　　"爸，妈，这是我的朋友，巴尔教授。"她的表情与语调带有不可遏止的自豪与快乐，仿佛她方才是吹着喇叭、手舞足蹈地开了门。
　　倘使那陌生人对将受到怎样的接待心存疑虑的话，一会儿他受到的热诚欢迎使他放了心。每个人都客气地和他招呼，开始是为乔的缘故，很快他们就为他自己的缘故喜欢其他来。
　　他们情不自禁，因为他带着法宝，能打开所有的心。这些纯洁的人们立刻同情其他来，因为他穷，感到更加亲密。贫穷使生活稍好些的人们变得富有起来，贫穷也是真正热情好客精神的担保。巴尔先生坐在那里环顾四周，他的神情像是旅行者敲开了陌生人的屋门发现自己回到了家。孩子们围着他，像是蜜蜂围着蜜糖罐。两个孩子一边一个坐在他的腿上，他们以孩子的大胆搜他的口袋，拔他的胡子，检查他的表，想引其他的注意。妇女们相互传递着赞许的信息。马奇先生感到与他心性相投，便为客人打开了他的话题精疲宝库。寡言的约翰在旁听着，欣赏着，却不发一言。劳伦斯先生发现不可能去睡觉了。
　　要不是乔在忙着别的事，她会被劳里的表现逗乐的。一阵轻微的刺痛，不是出于忌妒，而是出于类似怀疑的东西，使得这位先生开始时带着兄长般的慎重超然地观察着新来者，但是持续不长时间，他还没反应过来，便不由自主地产生了兴趣，被吸引进那一圈人中。因为，在这样愉快的氛围里，巴尔先生充分发挥了他的口才。他侃侃而谈，妙语连珠。他极少对劳里说话，却常看他。他看着这个风华正茂的年轻人，脸上便会掠过一丝阴影，仿佛为自己失去的青春遗憾，然后他的眼睛便会渴望地转向乔。假如乔看到了他的眼神，她肯定会回答那无声的询问。可是乔得管住自己的双眼，因为不能放任它们。她小心地让眼睛盯着正在织的小短袜上，像是个模范的独身姨母。
　　乔不时地偷看一眼教授，这使她神清气爽，就像在尘土飞扬的路上散步后饮过清泉一样，因为在这悄然平视中，她看到了某种她渴望的东西。此刻，巴尔先生的脸上丝毫没有心不在焉的表情，他精神抖擞，兴致勃勃。她想，实际上是年轻漂亮。她忘了将他和劳里比较，对陌生人她通常这样做。
　　这对他们大为不利。此刻，巴尔似乎很有灵感，虽然转到了古人葬礼习俗的谈话，不能被看作是令人兴奋的话题。当特迪在一场争论中被驳得哑口无言时，乔得意得脸上放着光彩。
　　她看着爸爸神情专注的脸，心里想到："要是他每天都有我的教授这样的谈友，该会多快乐啊！"最后一点，巴尔先生穿着一件新的黑色西服，这使他看上去比以前更像个绅士。他浓密的头发剪了，梳理得很整齐，可是保持不了太久，因为他一激动起来，便像往常一样，把它们弄得蓬乱不堪。比起平整的头发，乔更喜欢他的头发乱竖着，因为她认为那样使他漂亮的额头带上了朱庇特似的风味。可怜的乔，她是怎样赞美着那个其貌不扬的人啊！她坐在那儿，那样默默地织着袜子，同时什么也没逃脱她的眼睛，她甚至注意到巴尔先生洁净的袖口上有着金光闪闪的扣子。
　　"亲爱的老兄！他即便是去求婚，也不可能比这更仔细地装扮自己了，"乔心里想着。这句话突然使她心中一动，她的脸陡然红了起来，只好将线团丢下，弯腰去拣，借机遮蔽一下红红的脸。
　　然而，这个动作并没有像她预期的那样成功，因为，用比喻的说法，教授正在为葬礼火堆添火，这时他放下了火把，躬身去捡那小蓝线团。当然，他们两人的头猛地撞到了一起，撞得眼冒金星，两个人红着脸直起身来，都没有拾到线团。他们回到了各自的坐位，心里后悔不该离座。
　　没有谁意识到夜已深了，罕娜早就高明地转移了孩子，他们打着盹，就像两朵粉红的罂栗花，劳伦斯先生回家休息了。
　　剩下的人围炉而坐，不停地谈着，完全不顾时间的流逝。后来，梅格母性的头里产生了坚定的信念：黛西肯定摔到床下去了，德米想必在研究着火柴的结构，睡衣定是被燃着了。于是她动身回家了。
　　"让我们来唱歌吧，就像以前那样，因为我们又聚到一起，"乔说。她觉得只有引吭高歌才能尽情而又稳妥地宣泄心中的激情。
　　并不是所有的人都到了，可是没有谁感到乔的话缺少考虑、不真实，因为贝思似乎还在他们中间，无形而又无时不在。她比以前更可爱。爱使家庭坚不可摧，死亡也不能将起拆散。那张小椅子放在老地方，小篮子还放在惯常的架子上，篮子里装着她没完成的针线活，那张心爱的钢琴没有移动地方，现在很少有人去碰它。贝思安详的笑脸就在钢琴上方，像以前那样，俯视着他们，仿佛在说："快乐吧，我就在这里。""弹点什么吧，艾美，让大家听听你有了多大的长进，"劳里说。他对他有出息的学生满怀自豪，这情有可原。
　　可是艾美热泪盈眶了，她转动着那张褪了色的琴凳，低声说："今晚不弹了，亲爱的，今晚我不能炫耀。"然而，她确实露了一手，这一手比才华或弹艺更好，她唱起了贝思常唱的歌来。声音里充满柔情，这是最好的老师也教不出来的。任何其他的灵感都不能赋予她更美更甜的震撼力量。它打动了听者的心弦。屋子里非常安静，唱到贝思最喜欢的圣歌中最后一句时，那清亮的歌声突然卡住了，很难说--人世间没有天堂治愈不了的痛苦，艾美靠在站在身后的丈夫身上，她感到没有贝思的亲吻，她回家受到的欢迎便不完美。
　　"好了，我们以米娘之歌结束吧，巴尔先生会唱，"没等艾美的停顿使人难受起来，乔赶紧说。巴尔先生喜悦地清清嗓子，哼了一声。他走到乔站着的角落说--"你和我一起唱，好吗？我们俩配合非常好。"顺便说一句，这可是个可爱的谎话，因为，乔和蚱蜢一样对音乐一窍不通。但是，即便教授提议唱整个一出歌剧，乔也会同意的。她颤声唱了起来，喜悦中也不管是否合拍合调。
　　这没多大关系，巴尔先生像个真正的德国人那样起劲地唱着，他唱得不错。很快乔的声音便降为轻柔的低哼了，这样她便可以听着那似乎专为她唱的圆润的歌声。
　　你知道那个香橼盛开的国家吗？
　　这是教授最喜欢的一句歌词，因为"那个国家"对他来说，指的是德国，但是，现在他却似乎带着特别热情的调子拖长了下面的歌调--那里，哦，那里，我愿和你一起，哦，我亲爱的，去吧。
　　这深情的邀请使一个听众心中是那样地激动着，她极想说她真的知道那个国家，只要他愿意，她随时欣然前往。
　　歌唱得非常成功，演唱者得到很大的荣誉。可是，几分钟后，他瞪眼看着艾美戴上帽子，完全失了态；因为乔只简单地介绍她为"我妹妹"。从他进屋起，没有谁叫她的新名字。
　　后来他更加忘乎所以了，因为劳里在告别时，以他最优雅的风度说道--"我和我妻子为见到你深感荣幸，先生。别忘了，我们随时欢迎你大驾光临。"于是，教授由衷地致以谢意，满怀喜悦而神采飞扬。劳里认为教授是他见过的最令人愉快、易动感情的老兄。
　　"我也该走了。不过亲爱的太太，如果您允许的话，我会乐意再来的，因为城里有点小事务，将让我在这里逗留几天。"他对马奇太太说着话，眼睛却看着乔。妈妈的声音和女儿的眼色都真心诚意地表示同意。正如莫法特太太设想的那样，马奇太太并非不明白她的孩子们的心事。
　　"我想那是个聪明人，"客人都离去了，马奇先生站在炉边地毯上温和满意地评论道。
　　"我知道他是个好人，"马奇太太一边给闹钟上发条，一边带着显而易见的赞许口气补充道。
　　"我料想你们会喜欢他的，"乔只说了这一句，便溜开上床去了。
　　她奇怪是什么事务把巴尔先生带到这个城来了，最后认定他被委派到某处就任某种非常体面的工作，只是他太谦虚，不愿提及此事。而他回到了自己的屋子，安全保险，无人看见了。这时，他看着一个严肃古板年轻女士的像片。这女士头发很厚，她似乎忧愁地凝视着未来。要是乔看到教授这时的神色，特别是当他关掉了煤气灯，在黑暗中吻着像片时，她也许会把这事弄明白一些。
  
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一二三四五六七~~~
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Chapter Forty-two All Alone

It was easy to promise self-abnegation when self was wrapped up in another, and heart and soul were purified by a sweet example. But when the helpful voice was silent, the daily lesson over, the beloved presence gone, and nothing remained but lonliness and grief, then Jo found her promise very hard to keep. How could she `comfort Father and Mother' when her own heart ached with a ceaseless longing for her sister, how could she `make the house cheerful' when all its light and warmth and beauty seemed to have deserted it when Beth left the old home for the new, and where in all the world could she `find some useful, happy work to do', that would take the place of the loving service which had been its own reward? She tried in a blind, hopeless way to do her duty, secretly rebelling against it all the while, for it seemed unjust that her few joys should be lessened, her burdens made heavier, and life get harder and harder as she toiled along. Some people seemed to get all sunshine, and some all shadow. It was not fair, for she tried more than Amy to be good, but never got any reward, only disappointment, trouble and hard work.
Poor Jo, these were dark days to her, for something like despair came over her when she thought of spending all her life in that quiet house, devoted to humdrum cares, a few small pleasures, and the duty that never seemed to grow any easier. "I can't do it. I wasn't meant for a life like this, and I know I shall break away and do something desperate if somebody doesn't come and help me," she said to herself, when her first efforts failed and she fell into the moody, miserable state of mind which often comes when strong wills have to yield to the inevitable.
But someone did come and help her, though Jo did not recognize her good angels at once because they wore familiar shapes and used the simple spells best fitted to poor humanity. Often she started up at night, thinking Beth called her, and when the sight of the little empty bed made her cry with the bitter cry of unsubmissive sorrow, "Oh, Beth, come back! Come back!" she did not stretch out her yearning arms in vain. For, as quick to hear her sobbing as she had been to hear her sister's faintest whisper, her mother came to comfort her, not with words only, but the patient tenderness that soothes by a touch, tears that were mute reminders of a greater grief than Jo's, and broken whispers, more eloquent than prayers, because hopeful resignation went hand-in-hand with natural sorrow. Sacred moments, when heart talked to heart in the silence of the night, turning affliction to a blessing, which chastened grief and strengthned love. Feeling this, Jo's burden seemed easier to bear, duty grew sweeter, and life looked more endurable, seen from the safe shelter of her mother's arms.
When aching heart was a little comforted, troubled mind likewise found help, for one day she went to the study, and leaning over the good gray head lifted to welcome her with a tranquil smile, she said very humbly, "Father, talk to me as you did to Beth. I need it more than she did, for I'm all wrong."
"My dear, nothing can comfort me like this," he answered, with a falter in his voice, and both arms round her, as if he too, needed help, and did not fear to ask for it.
Then, sitting in Beth's little chair close beside him, Jo told her troubles, the resentful sorrow for her loss, the fruitless efforts that discouraged her, the want of faith that made life look so dark, and all the sad bewilderment which we call despair. She gave him entire confidence, he gave her the help she needed, and both found consolation in the act. For the time had come when they could talk together not only as father and daughter, but as man and woman, able and glad to serve each other with mutual sympathy as well as mutual love. Happy, thoughtful times there in the old study which Jo called `the church of one member', and from which she came with fresh courage, recovered cheerfulness, and a more submissive spirit. For the parents who had taught one child to meet death without fear, were trying now to teach another to accept life without despondency or distrust, and to use its beautiful opportunities with gratitude and power.
Other helps had Jo--humble, wholesome duties and delights that would not be denied their part in serving her, and which she slowly learned to see and value. Brooms and dishcloths never could be as distasteful as they once had been, for Beth had presided over both, and something of her housewifely spirit seemed to linger around the little mop and the old brush, never thrown away. As she used them, Jo found herself humming the songs Beth used to hum, imitating Beth's orderly ways, and giving the little touches here and there that kept everything fresh and cozy, which was the first step toward making home happy, though she didn't know it till Hannah said with an approving squeeze of the hand...
"You thoughtful creeter, you're determined we shan't miss that dear lamb ef you can help it. We don't say much, but we see it, and the Lord will bless you for't, see ef He don't."
As they sat sewing together, Jo discovered how much improved her sister Meg was, how well she could talk, how much she knew about good, womanly impulses, thoughts, and feelings, how happy she was in husband and children, and how much they were all doing for each other.
"Marriage is an excellent thing, after all. I wonder if I should blossom out half as well as you have, if I tried it?" said Jo, as she constructed a kite for Demi in the topsy-turvy nursery.
"It's just what you need to bring out the tender womanly half of your nature, Jo. You are like a chestnut burr, prickly outside, but silky-soft within, and a sweet kernal, if one can only get at it. Love will make you show your heart one day, and then the rough burr will fall off."
"Frost opens chestnut burrs, ma`am, and it takes a good shake to bring them down. Boys go nutting, and I don't care to be bagged by them," returned Jo, pasting away at the kite which no wind that blows would ever carry up, for Daisy had tied herself on as a bob.
Meg laughed, for she was glad to see a glimmer of Jo's old spirit, but she felt it her duty to enforce her opinion by every argument in her power, and the sisterly chats were not wasted, especially as two of Meg's most effective arguments were the babies, whom Jo loved tenderly. Grief is the best opener of some hearts, and Jo's was nearly ready for the bag. A little more sunshine to ripen the nut, then, not a boy's impatient shake, but a man's hand reached up to pick it gently from the burr, and find the kernal sound and sweet. If she suspected this, she would have shut up tight, and been more prickly than ever, fortunately she wasn't thinking about herself, so when the time came, down she dropped.
Now, if she had been the heroine of a moral storybook, she ought at this period of her life to have become quite saintly, renounced the world, and gone about doing good in a mortified bonnet, with tracts in her pocket. But, you see, Jo wasn't a heroine, she was only a struggling human girl like hundreds of others, and she just acted out her nature, being sad, cross, listless, or energetic, as the mood suggested. It's highly virtuous to say we'll be good, but we can't do it all at once, and it takes a long pull, a strong pull, and a pull all together before some of us even get our feet set in the right way. Jo had got so far, she was learning to do her duty, and to feel unhappy if she did not, but to do it cheerfully, ah, that was another thing! She had often said she wanted to do something splendid, no matter how hard, and now she had her wish, for what could be more beautiful than to devote her life to Father and Mother, trying to make home as happy to them as they had to her? And if difficulties were necessary to increase the splendor of the effort, what could be harder for a restless, ambitious girl than to give up her own hopes, plans, and desires, and cheerfully live for others?
Providence had taken her at her word. Here was the task, not what she had expected, but better because self had no part in it. Now, could she do it? She decided that she would try, and in her first attempt she found the helps I have suggested. Still another was given her, and she took it, not as a reward, but as a comfort, as Christian took the refreshment afforded by the little arbor where he rested, as he climbed the hill called Difficulty.
"Why don't you write? That always used to make you happy," said her mother once, when the desponding fit over-shadowed Jo.
"I've no heart to write, and if I had, nobody cares for my things."
"We do. Write something for us, and never mind the rest of the world. Try it, dear. I'm sure it would do you good, and please us very much."
"Don't believe I can." But Jo got out her desk and began to overhaul her half-finished manuscripts.
An hour afterward her mother peeped in and there she was, scratching away, with her black pinafore on, and an absorbed expression, which caused Mrs. March to smile and slip away, well pleased with the success of her suggestion. Jo never knew how it happened, but something got into that story that went straight to the hearts of those who read it, for when her family had laughed and cried over it, her father sent it, much against her will, to one of the popular magazines, and to her utter surprise, it was not only paid for, but others requested. Letters from several persons, whose praise was honor, followed the appearance of the little story, newspapers copied it, and strangers as well as friends, admired it. For a small thing it was a great success, and Jo was more astonished than when her novel was commended and condemned all at once.
"I don't understand it. What can there be in a simple little story like that to make people praise it so?" she said, quite bewildered.
"There is truth in it, Jo, that's the secret. Humor and pathos make it alive, and you have found your style at last. You wrote with not thoughts of fame and money, and put your heart into it, my daughter. You have had the bitter, now comes the sweet. Do your best, and grow as happy as we are in your success."
"If there is anything good or true in what I write, it isn't mine. I owe it all to you and Mother and Beth," said Jo, more touched by her father's words than by any amount of praise from the world.
So taught by love and sorrow, Jo wrote her little stories, and sent them away to make friends for themselves and her, finding it a very charitable world to such humble wanderers, for they were kindly welcomed, and sent home comfortable tokens to their mother, like dutiful children whom good fortune overtakes.
When Amy and Laurie wrote of their engagement, Mrs. March feared that Jo would find it difficult to rejoice over it, but her fears were soon set at rest, for thought Jo looked grave at first, she took it very quietly, and was full of hopes and plans for `the children' before she read the letter twice. It was a sort of written duet, wherein each glorified the other in loverlike fashion, very pleasant to read and satisfactory to think of, for no one had any objection to make.
"You like it, Mother?" said Jo, as they laid down the closely written sheets and looked at one another.
"Yes, I hoped it would be so, ever since Amy wrote that she had refused Fred. I felt sure then that something better than what you call the `mercenary spirit' had come over her, and a hint here and there in her letters made me suspect that love and Laurie would win the day."
"How sharp you are, Marmee, and how silent! You never said a worked to me."
"Mothers have need of sharp eyes and discreet tongues when they have girls to manage. I was half afraid to put the idea into your head, lest you should write and congratulate them before the thing was settled."
"I'm not the scatterbrain I was. You may trust me. I'm sober and sensible enough for anyone's confidante now."
"So you are, my dear, and I should have made you mine, only I fancied it might pain you to learn that your Teddy loved someone else."
"Now, Mother, did you really think I could be so silly and selfish, after I'd refused his love, when it was freshest, if not best?"
"I knew you were sincere then, Jo, but lately I have thought that if he came back, and asked again, you might perhaps, feel like giving another answer. Forgive me, dear, I can't help seeing that you are very lonely, and sometimes there is a hungry look in your eyes that goes to my heart. So I fancied that your boy might fill the empty place if he tried now."
"No, Mother, it is better as it ia, and I'm glad Amy has learned to love him. But you are right in one thing. I am lonely, and perhaps if Teddy had tried again, I might have said `Yes', not because I love him any more, but because I care more to be loved than when he went away."
"I'm glad of that, Jo, for it shows that you are getting on. There are plenty to love you, so try to be satisfied with Father and Mother, sisters and brothers, friends and babies, till the best lover of all comes to give you your reward."
"Mothers are the best lovers in the world, but I don't mind whispering to Marmee that I'd like to try all kinds. It's very curious, but the more I try to satisfy myself with all sorts of natural affections, the more I seem to want. I'd no idea hearts could take in so many. Mine is so elastic, it never seems full now, and I used to be quite contented with my family. I don't understand it."
"I do." And Mrs. March smiled her wise smile, as Jo turned back the leaves to read what Amy said of Laurie.
"It is so beautiful to be loved as Laurie loves me. He isn't sentimental, doesn't say much about it, but I see and feel it in all he says and does, and it makes me so happy and so humble that I don't seem to be the same girl I was. I never knew how good and generous and tender he was till now, for he lets me read his heart, and I find it full of noble impulses and hopes and purposes, and am so proud to know it's mine. He says he feels as if he `could make a prosperous voyage now with me aboard as mate, and lots of love for ballast'. I pray he may, and try to be all he believes me, for I love my gallant captain with all my heart and soul and might, and never will desert him, while God lets us be together. Oh, Mother, I never knew how much like heaven this world could be, when two people love and live for one another!"
"And that's our cool, reserved, and worldly Amy! Truly, love does work miracles. How very, very happy they must be!" And Jo laid the rustling sheets together with a careful hand, as one might shut the covers of a lovely romance, which holds the reader fast till the end comes, and he finds himself alone in the workaday world again.
By-and-by Jo roamed away upstairs, for it was rainy, and she could not walk. A restless spirit possessed her, and the old feeling came again, not bitter as it once was, but a sorrowfully patient wonder why one sister should have all she asked, the other nothing. It was not true, she knew that and tried to put it away, but the natural craving for affection was strong, and Amy's happiness woke the hungry longing for someone to `love with heart and soul, and cling to while God let them be together'. Up in the garret, where Jo's unquiet wanderings ended stood four little wooden chests in a row, each marked with its owners name, and each filled with relics of the childhood and girlhood ended now for all. Jo glanced into them, and when she came to her own, leaned her chin on the edge, and stared absently at the chaotic collection, till a bundle of old exercise books caught her eye. She drew them out, turned them over, and relived that pleasant winter at kind Mrs. Kirke's. She had smiled at first, then she looked thoughtful, next sad, and when she came to a little message written in the Professor's hand, her lips began to tremble, the books slid out of her lap, and she sat looking at the friendly words, as they took a new meaning, and touched a tender spot in her heart.
"Wait for me, my friend. I may be a little late, but I shall surely come."
"Oh, if he only would! So kine, so good, so patient with me always, my dear old Fritz. I didn't value him half enough when I had him, but now how I should love to see him, for everyone seems going away from me, and I'm all alone."
And holding the little paper fast, as if it were a promise yet to be fulfilled, Jo laid her head down on a comfortable rag bag, and cried, as if in opposition to the rain pattering on the roof.
Was it all self-pity, loneliness, or low spirits? Or was it the waking up of a sentiment which had bided its time as patiently as its inspirer? Who shall say?



第四十二章 孤独

　　当自己的注意力全部倾注于另一个人身上，身心受到一个美好榜样的净化时，答应克己是件容易事。可是当那诚诫之声静默了，每天的课程结束了，亲爱的人儿逝去了，留下的只有孤独与悲伤时，乔发现很难遵守她的诺言。她自己心痛欲裂，无尽地思念妹妹，怎么转去"安慰爸爸妈妈"呢？贝思离开老家去了新家，一切光明、温暖、美好的东西似乎都随她而去，她又怎能"使家庭愉快"呢？她到底在哪里能"找到些有益、快乐的事情去做"，来代替那满怀爱心照顾妹妹的工作呢？照顾妹妹这件事本身就是一种报偿。她盲目、无助地试图履行职责，内心始终暗暗反抗着，因为她辛勤劳作着，不多的欢乐被减少了，精神负荷更重了，生活越来越难以忍受。这似乎让人心理难以平衡。有的人似乎总是得到阳光，而另一些人却总是处在阴影中。这不公平。她比艾美作出的努力更大，想做个好姑娘，可是从来得不到奖赏，只得到失望、烦恼与沉重的工作。
　　可怜的乔，对她来说这是些黑暗的日子。她想到自己将在那安静的房子里度过一生，投身于单调无聊的家务事、一些小小的快乐，以及似乎根本不会变得轻松的责任中。想到这些，一种类似绝望的情绪攫住了她。"我干不了，我生来不是过这种生活的。我知道，要是没人来帮我，我会挣脱开做出不顾一切的事情的，"她自言自语。她最初的努力失败了，便陷入一种忧郁痛苦的心情中。坚强的意志不得不屈服于无可奈何。企图逃避命运时往往会产生这样的心境。
　　然而真的有人来帮她了，虽然乔没有立即认出那些善良的天使们。因为他们以熟悉的形象出现，用简单的符咒解救可怜的人类。夜里她常惊跳起来，以为是贝思叫她。可是看到那张空荡荡的小床，她便带着遏制不住的痛苦伤心地哭起来："哦，贝思，回来吧！回来吧！"她渴望地伸出胳膊，这并非徒劳，因为，就像妹妹发出最微弱的低语她马上就能听见一样，一听到她的呜咽，妈妈就过来安慰她。不光光用言语，还用带有耐心的温柔、触摸与眼泪来抚慰她。这些都无声地提醒她，妈妈的悲哀更大。还有那断断续续的低语，这比祈祷更有说服力，那是带着希望的顺从和挥之不去的痛苦浑然毕至。夜深人静时，心贴心的交流使痛苦转化为幸福，它驱逐了悲伤，增强了爱的力量。这是些神圣的时刻，乔感受到了它。安全地偎在妈妈的臂弯，她看到她的负担似乎比较容易忍受了，责任变得甜蜜些了，生活也似乎较能容忍了。
　　当发疼的心得到些许安慰时，苦恼的精神同样找到了帮助。一天，乔来到了书房。爸爸抬起头，平静地笑迎着她。她靠在那个善良的灰色脑袋上，非常谦恭地说："爸爸，就像你对贝思那样和我谈谈吧。我比她更需要，我感到一切都不对劲了。""亲爱的，没什么比这更让我感到安慰了，"他颤声回答，伸出双臂抱住了她，好像他也需要帮助，并敢于要求帮助。
　　于是，靠近爸爸坐在贝思的小椅子上，乔倾诉了她的烦恼--失去贝思令人悲愤的痛苦，无效果的种种努力令她泄气，缺乏信仰使生活暗淡无光，还有所有那些我们称为绝望的悲哀的困惑。她完全信任爸爸，而爸爸也给了她所需要的帮助。父女俩都从对方找到了安慰。这时，他们能在一起谈着话，不仅以父亲和女儿的身份，而且也作为男人和女人。他们能够也乐于以互爱互怜之心为对方尽力。在那老书房度过的时刻使人感到幸福、亲切。乔把书房叫做"一人教堂"，从那里出来时，她便有了新的勇气，她情绪有所好转，态度更加柔顺。她的父母曾经教过一个孩子无畏地面对死亡，现在他们试图教另一个孩子不消沉、不带疑惑地接受生命，并且心存感激地尽力利用生命提供的美好机会。
　　乔还得到了其他的帮助--卑微却有价值的责任以及起他有意义的事情。这些肯定对她不无裨益。她慢慢学会发现并珍视它们。扫帚和洗碗布不再像以前那样令人生厌了，因为贝思曾掌管过这两件东西她的家庭主妇精神中有某种东西，还保留在这块小抹布和旧扫把上，所以乔决不扔掉这两样东西。乔用着它们时，发现自己哼着贝思常哼的小调，模仿着贝思干活井井有条的方式，这里擦一下，那里扫一把，使一切保持干净、舒适。这是使家庭幸福的第一步。她没有意识到这些，直到罕娜嬷嬷赞许地捏着她的手说--"你这个姑娘想得真周到。要是你能干，就打定主意不让我们想念那可爱的宝贝。我们没说出来，可是看到了。上帝会保佑你的，肯定会的。"
　　 乔和梅格坐在一起做针线时，发现姐姐有了很大的进步。
　　她能得体地谈话，知道许多有关良家妇女的冲动、想法以及感情。她从丈夫和孩子们身上得到了很大的幸福，他们都为对方尽着力。
　　"婚姻毕竟是一件极好的事情。要是我试试，不知结局会不会有你一半好？"乔说。她在弄得乱七八糟的育儿室里为德米制作一个风筝。
　　"你所需要的正是露出你性格中女子温柔的那一半，乔。
　　你就像一个带壳的栗子，外面多刺，内里却光滑柔软。要是有人能接近，还有个甜果仁。将来有一天，爱情会使你表露心迹的，那时你的壳便脱落了。""夫人，严霜会冻开栗壳，使劲摇会摇下栗子。男孩子们好采栗子。可是，我不喜欢让他们用口袋装着，"乔答道。她在继续粘着风筝。这个风筝无论刮什么风都上不了天，因为黛西把自己当作风筝尾巴系在了上面。
　　梅格笑了。她高兴地看到了一点乔的老脾气。但是她觉得，用她所能想到的全部论据来坚持她的观点，这是她的责任。姐妹俩的谈话没有白费，特别是因为梅格两个最有说服力的论据是孩子们，乔温柔地爱着他们。乔几乎做好准备被装进口袋了：还需要照些阳光，使栗子成熟。然后，不是被男孩焦躁地摇落，而是一个男人的手伸上去，轻轻地剥开壳，就会发现果仁成熟甜美。假使她曾怀疑到这一点，她会紧紧封闭起来的，会比以前更刺人，所幸的是她没有想到自己。所以时间一到，她这个栗子便掉落下来了。
　　要说乔是道德故事书中的女主人公的话，那么，在她生活的这一时起，她应该变得十分圣洁，应该退隐，应该口袋里装着宗教传单，戴着清心寡欲的帽子，四处去做善事。可是，要知道，乔不是一个女主人公。像成百上千的其他姑娘一样她只是个挣扎着的凡人。所以，她依着性子行事。她悲哀、焦躁、不安，或者精神饱满，随心境而定。我们要做好人，这样说非常有道德，可是我们不可能立马就做得到。需要有人长期的引导、有力的引导，还要大家同心协力去帮助，我们中有些人甚至才能正确起步。到目前为止，乔起步不错。
　　她学着尽自己的责任，尽不到责便会感到不快乐。可是心甘情愿地去做--哦，这是另一码事了！她常说要做些出色的事，不管那有多难。现在她实现了愿望。因为，一生奉献给爸爸妈妈，努力使他们感到家庭幸福，就像他们让她感到的那样，有什么比这件事更美好的呢？这样一个焦躁不安、雄心勃勃的姑娘，放弃了自己的希望、计划和意愿，无怨无悔地为别人活着。假如需要用困难来增加努力的美妙之处的话，还有什么比这更难做到的呢？
　　上帝相信了她的话；使命就在这里，并不是她所期待的，但是更好，因为她自己和它没有关系。那么，她能完成任务吗？她决定一试。在最初的尝试中，她找到了我提出的那些帮助。还有别的帮助给她，她也接受了，不是作为奖赏，而是作为安慰，就像基督徒跋涉困难之山，在小树下歇息时，小树使他提神一样。
　　"你为什么不写点东西呢？以前那总会使你快乐的，"一次，妈妈见乔又来了阵消沉情绪，脸色阴沉，便这样说道。
　　"我没有心思写。即使写了，也没人喜欢读。" "我们喜欢。为我们写点东西吧。千万别在乎别的人。亲爱的，试试吧。我肯定那会对你有好处，而且使我们非常高兴。"
　　"我不相信我能写了。"然而，乔搬出了她的桌子，开始翻查她写了一半的一些手稿。
　　一小时以后，妈妈朝屋里瞥了一眼，乔就坐在那里。她围着黑围裙，全神贯注，不停地涂写着。马奇太太为她的建议奏效感到高兴，她笑着悄悄走开了。乔一点也不知道这是怎么发生的。某种东西夹进了故事，打动了读者。当她的家人读着故事又哭又笑时，爸爸将它寄给了一家通俗杂志，这是完全违反她的意愿的。使她大吃一惊的是，杂志社不仅付了她稿酬，而且还要求她再写些故事。这个小故事登出来后，她收到了一些人的来信，这些人的赞扬是种荣誉。报纸也转载了这个故事。朋友们及陌生的人们都赞赏它。对这样的一个小东西来说，这是巨大的成功。以前乔的小说同时遭人褒贬，现在她比那时更为感到惊讶。
　　"我不懂，像那么一个小姑娘，能有什么让人们这样夸赞的？"她十分困惑地说。
　　"故事里有真实的东西，乔，这就是秘密。幽默与悲哀使故事生动。你终于找到了自己的风格。你没有想着名誉和金钱，而是在用心写作，我的女儿。你尝过了痛苦，现在有了甜蜜。你要尽力去做，像我们一样，为你的成功快乐起来吧。""假如我写的东西里当真有什么好的、真实的东西，那不是我的功劳。这一切都得归于您和妈妈，还有贝思，"乔说。
　　爸爸的话比外界的任何赞扬都更使她感动。
　　乔就这样受到了爱与痛苦的教育。她写着小故事，把它们寄出去，让它们为自己、也为她去结识朋友。她发现对那些卑微的漫游者来说，这是个仁爱的世界。那些故事受到了亲切的欢迎，它们就像突然交了好运的孝顺孩子，为它们的母亲带回家一些愉快的纪念物。
　　艾美和劳里写来信，告知他们已订婚。马奇太太担心乔会难以为此高兴，可是不久她便放了心。虽然乔一开始神色严肃，她还是默默地接受了这件事。她为"两个孩子"心中充满了希望与计划，然后把信又读了一遍。这是一种书信二重奏，信中两个人都以情人的语调赞美着对方。读着让人感动，想起来令人欣慰，因为家里面谁也没有反对意见。
　　"你喜欢吗，妈？"乔问。她们放下写得密密麻麻的信，相互望着。
　　"喜欢，自打艾美写信来说她拒绝了弗雷德，我就期望事情会是这样的。那时我确信，她产生了某种念头，这种念头与你所讲的'唯利是图'不是一回事。她的来信字里行间的暗示使我猜测，她的爱情将使她和劳里连结在一起。""妈咪，你多么敏锐，又多么保守！你从来没和我们说起一个字。""当母亲们有女儿要照管时，她们需要敏锐的眼睛和谨慎的舌头。我不太敢让你知道这个想法，生怕你会在事情定下来之前就写信祝贺他们。""我不像以前那样轻率浮躁了。你可以相信我。现在我比较清醒、明智，足以当任何人的知心朋友。""是这样的，亲爱的。我本来应该让你当我的知心朋友。
　　只是我想，要是知道你的特迪爱上了别人，你会痛苦的。""哎呀，妈，你真的以为我会这么愚蠢，这么自私？他的爱即使不适合我，我仍以为那是纯洁的。我自己拒绝了他的爱，会在乎他娶艾美吗？""我知道你那时是真心拒绝他的，乔。可是近来我想到，假如他回来再向你求爱，也许你会做出不同的回答。原谅我，亲爱的，我不由自主地发现你很孤独，有时你的眼里露出一种渴望的神色，直钻进我的心里。所以我想，假如你那男孩再试试，他会填补你内心的空缺。""不，妈妈，现在这样更好。我很高兴艾美学会了爱他。
　　有一件事你说对了：我是感到了孤独。假如特迪再求婚的话，也许我会回答愿意，不是因为我比以前更爱他，而是因为我比他离开时更在乎被人爱。""那样我很高兴，乔。它证明你在进步。有许多人爱着你。
　　你会从和爸爸、妈妈、姐妹兄弟、朋友们和孩子们在一起中获得亲情的满足，直到最合适的爱人来给你补偿。""妈妈是世界上最好的爱人。可是我不在乎对妈咪轻轻说我想起味各种爱。很奇怪，我越是想满足于各种自然的感情，就越有缺失感。我不知道内心能容纳那么多东西。我的心总那么翕张着，感到从未装满过，而我过去非常满足于家庭的。
　　我真不懂。"
　　"我懂。"马奇太太露出了洞察理解的微笑。乔翻过信纸读着艾美谈及劳里的内容。
　　"像劳里爱我那样被人爱着是多么美妙。他不是感情用事，没说很多话，但是从他的一言一行我看出来了，也感受 到了。他使我感到这么幸福，这么卑微，我似乎不再是以前那同一个女孩了。现在我才知道，他是多么善良、慷慨、温柔。他让我看他的内心世界，我发现那里充满了高尚的冲力、希望和目标。我知道那颗心属于我，我多么自豪。他说他感到好像'现在有我在船上当大副，有许多爱当压舱物，他便能驾船顺利航行了'。我祈愿他能这样。我要让自己趋于完善，一如他所期待、信赖于我的那样，因为，我以整个生命爱着我勇敢的船长。只要上帝让我们在一起，我决不会丢其他。哦，妈妈，我以前真不知道，当两个人互相爱着，只为对方活着时，这个世界多么像天堂！""那是我们冷静、保守、世俗的艾美？真的，爱情产生了奇迹。他们肯定非常、非常地幸福！"乔小心翼翼地把沙沙作响的信纸放到了一起，就像合上了本可爱的浪漫故事，这个故事紧紧地抓住了读者，直到结局。这时，读者发现自己孤零零地又回到了尘世。
　　过了一会儿，乔漫步回到了楼上房间，因为在下雨，无法散步。一种不安的心绪攫住了她。那种老感受又回来了，不是像以前那样的抱怨，而是无怨的感叹和纳闷。为什么妹妹能得到她要的一切，而她什么也得不到？这并不真实，她知道并试图丢开不去想它，可是对爱的自然渴求又是那么强烈，艾美的幸福使她的渴望之情觉醒了，她渴望有个人让她"全心全意去爱，去依恋，只要上帝让他们在一起"。
　　乔烦躁不安，又漫无目的地上了阁楼。这里，四个小木箱列成一排。每个箱子上都标有主人的名字，箱子里装满了她们孩提时代和少女时代的纪念物。现在那一切都已成过去。
　　乔朝一个个箱子里看着，她来到自己的箱子前，将下巴搁在箱子的边缘，心不在焉地凝视着里面零乱的收集起。猛地，一捆旧练习本吸引了她的目光。她把它们掏出来翻看着，在和善的柯克太太家度过的那个愉快的冬天又再现在眼前。她先是笑着，继而若有所思，接着又悲哀起来。当她看到一张小纸条上教授的笔迹时，嘴唇开始颤抖，膝上的书本都滑落下去了。她坐在那看着这友好的语句，好像它们产生了新的意义，触及了她心中较为敏感的部位。
　　"等着我，朋友，我可能来得晚一点，可是我肯定会来的。""哦，但愿他会来！我亲爱的弗里茨，他对我总是那么客气、友好、那么有耐心。和他在一起时，我对他不够尊重，现在我多么想见到他啊！似乎所有的人都要离开我了，我感到多么孤独。"乔紧紧握着这张小纸头，好像这是个还未履行的诺言。她将头舒适地放在一个装着破布的袋子上，哭了起来，仿佛对抗着拍打屋顶的雨点。
　　这一切是顾影自怜、孤独感伤，还是一时的情绪低落？或者这是感情的觉醒？这种感情和它的激发者一样耐心地等待着时机。谁知道呢？
  
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Chapter Forty-one Learning to Forget

Amy's lecture did Laurie good, though, of course, he did not own it till long afterward. Men seldom do, for when women are the advisers, the lords of creation don't take the advice till they have persuaded themselves that it is just what they intended to do. Then they act upon it, and, if it succeeds, they give the weaker vessel half the credit of it. If it fails, they generously give her the whole. Laurie went back to his grandfather, and was so dutifully devoted for several weeks that the old gentleman declared the climate of Nice had improved him wonderfully, and he had better try it again. There was nothing the young gentleman would have liked better, but elephants could not have dragged him back after the scolding he had received. Pride forbid, and whenever the longing grew very strong, he fortified his resolution by repeating the words that had made the deepest impression, "I despise you." "Go and do something splendid that will make her love you."
Laurie turned the matter over in his mind so often that he soon brought himself to confess that he had been selfish and lazy, but then when a man has a great sorrow, he should be indulged in all sorts of vagaries till he has lived it down. He felt that his blighted affections were quite dead now, and though he should never cease to be a faithful mourner, there was no occasion to wear his weeds ostentatiously. Jo wouldn't love him, but he might make her respect and admire him by doing something which should prove that a girl's no had not spoiled his life. He had always meant to do something, and Amy's advice was quite unnecessary. He had only been waiting till the aforesaid blighted affections were decently interred. That being done, he felt that he was ready to `hide his stricken heart, and still toil on'.
As Goethe, when he had a joy or a grief, put it into a song, so Laurie resolved to embalm his love sorrow in music, and to compose a Requiem which should harrow up Jo's soul and melt the heart of every hearer. Therefore the next time the old gentleman found him getting restless and moody and ordered him off, he went to Vienna, where he had musical friends, and fell to work with the firm determination to distinguish himself. But whether the sorrow was too vast to be embodied in music, or music too ethereal to uplift a mortal woe, he soon discovered that the Requiem was beyond him just at present. It was evident that his mind was not in working order yet, and his ideas needed clarifying, for often in the middle of a plaintive strain, he would find himself humming a dancing tune that vividly recalled the Christmas ball at Nice, especially the stout Frenchman, and put an effectual stop to tragic composition for the time being.
Then he tried an opera, for nothing seemed impossible in the beginning, but here again unforeseen difficulties beset him. He wanted Jo for his heroine, and called upon his memory to supply him with tender recollections and romantic visions of his love. But memory turned traitor, and as if possessed by the perverse spirit of the girl, would only recall Jo's oddities, faults, and freaks, would only show her in the most unsentimental aspects--beating mats with her head tied up in a bandana, barricading herself with the sofa pillow, or throwing cold water over his passion a la Gummidge--and an irresistable laugh spoiled the pensive picture he was endeavoring to paint. Jo wouldn't be put into the opera at any price, and he had to give her up with a "Bless that girl, what a torment she is!" and a clutch at his hair, as became a distracted composer.
When he looked about him for another and a less intractable damsel to immortalize in melody, memory produced one with the most obliging readiness. This phantom wore many faces, but it always had golden hair, was enveloped in a diaphanous cloud, and floated airily before his mind's eye in a pleasing chaos of roses, peacocks, white ponies, and blue ribbons. He did not give the complacent wraith any name, but he took her for his heroine and grew quite fond of her, as well he might, for he gifted her with every gift and grace under the sun, and escorted her, unscathed, through trials which would have annihilated any mortal woman.
Thanks to this inspiration, he got on swimmingly for a time, but gradually the work lost its charm, and he forgot to compose, while he sat musing, pen in hand, or roamed about the gay city to get some new ideas and refresh his mind, which seemed to be in a somewhat unsettled state that winter. He did not do much, but he thought a great deal and was conscious of a change of some sort going on in spite of himself. "It's genius simmering, perhaps. I'll let it simmer, and see what comes of it," he said, with a secret suspicion all the while that it wasn't genius, but something far more common. Whatever it was, it simmered to some purpose, for he grew more and more discontented with his desultory life, began to long for some real and earnest work to go at, soul and body, and finally came to the wise conclusion that everyone who loved music was not a composer. Returning from one of Mozart's grand operas, splendidly performed at the Royal Theatre, he looked over his own, played a few of the best parts, sat staring at the busts of Mendelssohn, Beethoven, and bach, who stared benignly back again. Then suddenly he tore up his music sheets, one by one, and as the last fluttered out of his hand, he said soberly to himself...
"She is right! Talent isn't genius, and you can't make it so. That music has taken the vanity out of my as Rome took it out of her, and I won't be a humbug any longer. Now what shall I do?"
That seemed a hard question to answer, and Laurie began to wish he had to work for his daily bread. Now if ever, occurred an eligible opportunity for `going to the devil', as he once forcibly expressed it, for he had plenty of money and nothing to do, and Satan is proverbially fond of providing employment for full and idle hands. The poor fellow had temptations enough from without and from within, but he withstood them pretty well, for much as he valued liberty, he valued good faith and confidence more, so his promise to his grandfather, and his desire to be able to look honestly into the eyes of the women who loved him, and say "All's well," kept him safe and steady.
Very likely some Mrs. Grundy will observe, "I don't believe it, boys will be boys, young men must sow their wild oats, and women must not expect miracles." I dare say you don't, Mrs. Grundy, but it's true nevertheless. Women work a good many miracles, and I have a persuasion that they may perform even that of raising the standard of manhood by refusing to echo such sayings. Let the boys be boys, the longer the better, and let the young men sow their wild oats if they must. But mothers, sisters, and friends may help to make the crop a small one, and keep many tares from spoiling the harvest, by believing, and showing that they believe, in the possibility of loyalty to the virtues which make men manliest in good women's eyes. If it is a feminine delusion, leave us to enjoy it while we may, for without it half the beauty and the romance of life is lost, and sorrowful forebodings would embitter all our hopes of the brave, tenderhearted little lads, who still love their mothers better than themselves and are not ashamed to own it.
Laurie thought that the task of forgetting his love for Jo would absorb all his powers for years, but to his great surprise he discovered it grew easier every day. He refused to believe it at first, got angry with himself, and couldn't understand it, but these hearts of ours are curious and contrary things, and time and nature work their will in spite of us. Laurie's heart wouldn't ache. The wound persisted in healing with a rapidity that astonished him, and instead of trying to forget, he found himself trying to remember. He had not foreseen this turn of affairs, and was not prepared for it. He was disgusted with himself, surprised at his own fickleness, and full of a queer mixture of disappointment and relief that he could recover from such a tremendous blow so soon. He carefully stirred up the embers of his lost love, but they refused to burst into a blaze. There was only a comfortable glow that warmed and did him good without putting him into a fever, and he was reluctantly obliged to confess that the boyish passion was slowly subbsiding into a more tranquil sentiment, very tender, a little sad and resentful still, but that was sure to pass away in time, leaving a brotherly affection which would last unbroken to the end.
As the word `brotherly' passed through his mind in one of his reveries, he smiled, and glanced up at the picture of Mozart that was before him...
"Well, he was a great man, and when he couldn't have one sister he took the other, and was happy."
Laurie did not utter the words, but he thought them, and the next instant kissed the little old ring, saying to himself, "No, I won't! I haven't forgotten, I never can. I'll try again, and if that fails, why then...
Leaving his sentence unfinished, he seized pen and paper and wrote to Jo, telling her that he could not settle to anything while there was the least hope of her changing her mind. Couldn't she, wouldn't she, and let him come home and be happy? While waiting for an answer he did nothing, but he did it energetically, for he was in a fever of impatience. It came at last, and settled his mind effectually on one point, for Jo decidedly couldn't and wouldn't. She was wrapped up in Beth, and never wished to hear the word love again. Then she begged him to be happy with somebody else, but always keep a little corner of his ghart for his loving sister Jo. In a postscript she desired him not to tell Amy that Beth was worse, she was coming home in the spring and there was no need of saddening the remainder of her stay. That would be time enough, please God, but Laurie must write to her often, and not let her feel lonely, homesick or anxious.
"So I will, at once. Poor little girl, it will be a sad going home for her, I'm afraid." And Laurie opened his desk, as if writing to Amy had been the proper conclusion of the sentence left unfinished some weeks before.
But he did not write the letter that day, for as he rummaged out his best paper, he came across something which changed his purpose. Tumbling about in one part of the desk among bills, passports, and business documents of various kinds were several of Jo's letters, and in another compartment were three notes from Amy, carefully tied up with one of her blue ribbons and sweetly suggestive of the little dead roses put away inside. with a half-repentant, half-amused expression, Laurie gathered up all Jo's letters, smoothed, folded, and put them neatly into a small drawer of the desk, stood a minute turning the ring thoughtfully on his finger, then slowly drew it off, laid it with the letters, locked the drawer, and went out to hear High Mass at Saint Stefan's, feeling as if there had been a funeral, and though not overwhelmed with affliction, this seemed a more proper way to spend the rest of the day than in writing letters to charming young ladies.
The letter went very soon, however, and was promptly answered, for Amy was homesick, and confessed it in the most delightfully confiding manner. The correspondence flourished famously, and letters flew to and fro with unfailing regularity all through the early spring. Laurie sold his busts, made allumettes of his opera, and went back to Paris, hoping somebody would arrive before long. He wanted desperately to go to Nice, but would not till he was asked, and Amy would not ask him, for just then she was having little experiences of her own, which made her rather wish to avoid the quizzical eyes of `out boy'.
Fred Vaughn had returned, and put the question to which she had once decided to answer, "Yes, thank you," but now she said, "No, thank you," kindly but steadily, for when the time came, her courage failed her, and she found that something more than money and position was needed to satisfy the new longing that filled her heart so full of tender hopes and fears. The words, "Fred is a good fellow, but not at all the man I fancied you would ever like," and Laurie's face when he uttered them, kept returning to her as pertinaciously as her own did when she said in look, if not in words, "I shall marry for money." It troubled her to remember that now, she wished she could take it back, it sounded so unwomanly. She didn't want Laurie to think her a heartless, worldly creature. She didn't care to be a queen of society now half so much as she did to be a lovable woman. She was so glad he didn't hate her for the dreadful things she said, but took them so beautifully and was kinder than ever. His letters were such a comfort, for the home letters were very irregular and not half so satisfactory as his when they did come. It was not only a pleasure, but a duty to answer them, for the poor fellow was forlorn, and needed petting, since Jo persisted in being stonyhearted. She ought to have made an effort and tried to love him. It couldn't be very hard, many people would be proud and glad to have such a dear boy care for them. But Jo never would act like other girls, so there was nothing to do but be very kind and treat him like a brother.
If all brothers were treated as well as Laurie was at this period, they would be a much happier race of beings than they are. Amy never lectured now. She asked his opinion on all subjects, she was interested in everything he did, made charming little presents for him, and sent him two letters a week, full of lively gossip, sisterly confidences, and captivating sketches of the lovely scenes about her. As few brothers are complimented by having their letters carried about in their sister's pockets, read and reread diligently, cried over when short, kissed when long, and treasured carefully, we will not hint that Amy did any of these fond and foolish things. But she certainly did grow a little pale and pensive that spring, lost much of her relish for society, and went out sketching alone a good deal. She never had much to show when she came home, but was studying nature, I dare say, while she sat for hours, with her hands folded, on the terrace at Valrosa, or absently sketched any fancy that occurred to her, a stalwart knight carved on a tomb, a young man asleep in the grass, with his hat over his eyes, or a curly haired girl in gorgeous array, promenading down a ballroom on the arm of a tall gentleman, both faces being left a blur according to the last fashion in art, which was safe but not altogether satisfactory.
Her aunt thought that she regretted her answer to Fred, and finding denials useless and explanations impossible, Amy left her to think what she liked, taking care that Laurie should know that Fred had gone to Egypt. That was all, but he understood it, and looked relieved, as he said to himself, with a venerable air . ..
"I was sure she would think better of it. Poor old fellow! I've been through it all, and I can sympathize."
With that he heaved a great sigh, and then, as if he had discharged his duty to the past, put his feet up on the sofa and enjoyed Amy's letter luxuriously.
While these changes were going on abroad, trouble had come at home. But the letter telling that Beth was failing never reached Amy, and when the next found her at Vevay, for the heat had driven them from Nice in May, and they had travelled slowly to Switzerland, by way of Genoa and the Italian lakes. She bore it very well, and quietly submitted to the family decree that she should not shorten her visit, for since it was too late to say goodbye to Beth, she had better stay, and let absence soften her sorrow. But her heart was very heavy, she longed to be at home, and every day looked wistfully across the lake, waiting for Laurie to come and comfort her.
He did come very soon, for the same mail brought letters to them both, but he was in Germany, and it took some days to reach him. The moment he read it, he packed his knapsack, bade adieu to his fellow pedestrians, and was off to keep his promise, with a heart full of joy and sorrow, hope and suspense.
He knew Vevay well, and as soon as the boat touched the little quay, he hurried along the shore to La Tour, where the Carrols were living en pension. The garcon was in despair that the whole family had gone to take a promenade on the lake, but no, the blonde mademoiselle might be in the chateau garden. If monsier would give himself the pain of sitting down, a flash of time should present her. But monsieur could not wait even a `flash of time', and in the middle of the speech departed to find mademoiselle himself.
A pleasant old garden on the borders of the lovely lake, with chestnuts rustling overhead, ivy climbing everywhere, and the black shadow of the tower falling far across the sunny water. At one corner of the wide, low wall was a seat, and here Amy often came to read or work, or console herself with the beauty all about her. She was sitting here that day, leaning her head on her hand, with a homesick heart and heavy eyes, thinking of Beth and wondering why Laurie did not come. She did not hear him cross the courtyard beyond, nor see him pause in the archway that led from the subterranean path into the garden. He stood a minute looking at her with new eyes, seeing what no one had ever seen before, the tender side of Amy's character. Everything about her mutely suggested love and sorrow, the blotted letters in her lap, the black ribbon that tied up her hair, the womanly pain and patience in her face, even the little ebony cross at her throat seemed pathetic to Laurie, for he had given it to her, and she wore it as her only ornament. If he had any doubts about the reception she would give him, they were set at rest the minute she looked up and saw him, for dropping everything, she ran to him, exclaiming in a tone of unmistakable love and longing...
"Oh, Laurie, Laurie, I knew you'd come to me!"
I think everything was said and settled then, for as they stood together quite silent for a moment, with the dark head bent down protectingly over the light one, Amy felt that no one could comfort and sustain her so well as Laurie, and Laurie decided that Amy was the only woman in the world who could fill Jo's place and make him happy. He did not tell her so, but she was not disappointed, for both felt the truth, were satisfied, and gladly left the rest to silence.
In a minute Amy went back to her place, and while she dried her tears, Laurie gathered up the scattered papers, finding in the sight of sundry well-worn letters and suggestive sketches good omens for the future. As he sat down beside her, amy felt shy again, and turned rosy red at the recollection of her impulsive greeting.
"I couldn't help it, I felt so lonely and sad, and was so very glad to see you. It was such a surprise to look up and find you, just as I was beginning to fear you wouldn't come," she said, trying in vain to speak quite naturally.
"I came the minute I heard. I wish I could say something to comfort you for the loss of dear little Beth, but I can only feel, and..." He could not get any further, for her too turned bashful all of a sudden, and did not quite know what to say. He longed to lay Amy's head down on his shoulder, and tell her to have a good cry, but he did not dare, so took her hand instead, and gave it a sympathetic squeeze that was better than words.
"You needn't say anything, this comforts me," she said softly. "Beth is well and happy, and I mustn't wish her back, but I dread the going home, much as I long to see them all. We won't talk about it now, for it makes me cry, and I want to enjoy you while you stay. You needn't go right back, need you?"
"Not if you want me, dear."
"I do, so much. Aunt and Flo are very kind, but you seem like one of the family, and it would be so comfortable to have you for a little while."
Amy spoke and looked so like a homesick child whose heart was full that Laurie forgot his bashfulness all at once, and gave her just what she wanted--the petting she was used to and the cheerful conversation she needed.
"Poor little soul, you look as if you'd grieved yourself half sick! I'm going to take care of you, so don't cry any more, but come and walk about with me, the wind is too chilly for you to sit still," he said, in the half-caressing, half-commanding way that Amy liked, as he tied on her hat, drew her arm through his, and began to pace up and down the sunny walk under the new-leaved chestnuts. He felt more at ease upon his legs, and Amy found it pleasant to have a strong arm to lean upon, a familiar face to smile at her, and a kind voice to talk delightfully for her alone.
The quaint old garden had sheltered many pairs of lovers, and seemed expressly made for them, so sunny and secluded was it, with nothing but the tower to overlook them, and the wide lake to carry away the echo of their words, as it rippled by below. For an hour this new pair walked and talked, or rested on the wall, enjoying the sweet influences which gave such a charm to time and place, and when an unromantic dinner bell warned them away, Amy felt as if she left her burden of lonliness and sorrow behind her in the chateau garden.
The moment Mrs. Carrol saw the girl's altered face, she was illuminated with a new idea, and exclaimed to herself, "Now I understand it all--the child has been pining for young Laurence. Bless my heart, I never thought of such a thing!"
With praiseworthy discretion, the good lady said nothing, and betrayed no sign of enlightenment, but cordially urged Laurie to stay and begged Amy to enjoy his society, for it would do her more good than so much solitude. Amy was a model of docility, and as her aunt was a good deal occupied with Flo, she was left to entertain her friend, and did it with more than her usual success.
At Nice, Laurie had lounged and Amy had scolded. At Vevay, Laurie was never idle, but always walking, riding, boating, or studying in the most energetic manner, while Amy admired everything he did and followed his example as far and as fast as she could. He said the change was owing to the climate, and she did not contradict him, being glad of a like excuse for her own recovered health and spirits.
The invigorating air did them both good, and much exercise worked wholesome changes in minds as well as bodies. They seemed to get clearer views of life and duty up there among the everlasting hills. The fresh winds blew away desponding doubts, delusive fancies, and moody mists. The warm spring sunshine brought out all sorts of aspiring ideas, tender hopes, and happy thoughts. The lake seemed to wash away the troubles of the past, and the grand old mountains to look benignly down upon them saying, "Little children, love one another."
In spite of the new sorrow, it was a very happy time, so happy that Laurie could not bear to disturb it by a word. It took him a little while to recover from his surprise at the cure of his first, and as he had firmly believed, his last and only love. He consoled himself for the seeming disloyalty by the thought that Jo's sister was almost the same as Jo's self, and the conviction that it would have been impossible to love any other woman but Amy so soon and so well. His first wooing had been of the tempestuous order, and he looked back upon ;it as if through a long vista of years with a feeling of compassion blended with regret. He was not ashamed of it, but put it away as one of the bitter-sweet experiences of his life, for which he could be grateful when the pain was over. His second wooing, he resolved, should be as calm and simple as possible. There was no need of having a scene, hardly any need of telling Amy that he loved her, she knew it without words and had given him his answer long ago. It all came about so naturally that no one could complain, and he knew that everybody would be pleased, even Jo. But when our first little passion has been crushed, we are apt to be wary and slow in making a second trial, so Laurie let the days pass, enjoying every hour, and leaving to chance the utterance of the word that would put an end to the first and sweetest part of his new romance.
He had rather imagined that the denoument would take place in the chateau garden by moonlight, and in the most graceful and decorus manner, but it turned out exactly the reverse, for the matter was settled on the lake at noonday in a few blunt words. They had been floating about all the morning, from gloomy St. Gingolf to sunny Montreux, with the Alps of Savoy on one side, Mont St. Bernard and the Dent du Midi on the other, pretty Vevay in the valley, and Lausanne upon the hill beyond, a cloudless blue sky overhead, and the bluer lake below, dotted with the picturesque boats that look like white-winged gulls.
They had been talking of Bonnivard, as they glided past Chillon, and of Rousseau, as they looked up at Clarens, where he wrote his Heloise. Neither had read it, but they knew it was a love story, and each privately wondered if it was half as interesting as their own. Amy had been dabbling her hand in the water during the little pause that fell between them, and when she looked up, Laurie was leaning on his oars with an expression in his eyes that made her say hastily, merely for the sake of saying something . .
"You must be tired. Rest a little, and let me row. It will do me good, for since you came I have been altogether lazy and luxurious."
"I'm not tired, but you may take an oar, if you like. There's room enough, though I have to sit nearly in the middle, else the boat won't trim," returned Laurie, as if he rather liked the arrangment.
Feeling that she had not mended matters much, Amy took the offered third of a seat, shook her hair over her face, and accepted an oar. She rowed as well as she did many other things, and though she used both hands, and Laurie but one, the oars kept time, and the boat went smoothly through the water.
"How well we pull together, don't we?" said Amy, who objected to silence just then.
"So well that I wish we might always pull in the same boat. Will you, Amy?" very tenderly.
"Yes, Laurie," very low.
Then they both stopped rowing, and unconsciously added a pretty little tableau of human love and happiness to the dissolving views reflected in the lake.



第四十一章 学着忘却

　　艾美的训言对劳里产生了作用，当然，他到很久以后才肯承认这一点。男人们很少这么承认，因为当女人们提出劝告时，男人们要说服自己那正是他们打算做的事，然后才会接受建议，并依此行事。如果成功了，功劳归于女性一半；如果失败了，他们便慷慨地全部归罪于她们。劳里回到了爷爷身边，好几个星期那样尽职地不离左右，以致老先生宣称尼斯的气候奇妙地使他变好了，最好他再去试试。没有什么事更使那年轻人喜欢的了。可是，接受了那场训话后，大象也拖不回去他了，自尊心也不容许。每当想去那儿的渴望变得十分强烈时，他便重复那些给他留下深刻印象的话语，来坚定不去的决心。"我看不起你。""去干些出色的事情使她爱你。"劳里常在脑子里考虑这件事，不久便迫使自己承认，他确实是自私、懒散的。可是，当一个人有很大的痛苦时，难道不应该宽容他各种狂妄古怪的行为，直到他的痛苦消歇？他感到他那遭受挫折的爱情现在已经消亡，虽然他不会停止哀悼它，也没必要夸示地戴着那个丧章。乔不肯爱他，但他可以做些什么，来证明姑娘的拒绝不会毁了他的生活，并能使她尊重他，赞赏他。他以前一直打算做些什么的，艾美的建议完全不必要。他只是一直等着体面地埋葬掉前面所说的受挫的爱情，既然这件事已经完成了，他觉得已准备好"掩藏起受创的心灵，继续苦干"。
　　就像歌德那样，有了欢乐或者悲伤，就将它放进歌中。所以劳里决心用音乐来抚慰失恋的痛苦，他要谱一首安魂曲，那曲子将折磨乔的心灵，打动每一位听曲者。因此，当老先生再次发现他烦躁不安、心情忧郁，命他离开时，他便去了维也纳。那里他有一些音乐界的朋友，他开始着手工作，下定决心要出人头地。但是，也不知是他的痛苦太大，音乐体现不了，还是音乐太微妙不能解救人类之苦，他不久就发现目前他还谱不了安魂曲。显而易见，他的脑子还未处于正常的工作状态，他的思想需要净化。因为，常常在他写出的一段悲哀的曲子中间，他会发觉自己哼着舞曲的调子，让他生动地忆起尼斯的圣诞舞会，特别是那个矮胖子的法国人。这就很有效地使他暂时停止了他那悲哀的谱曲工作。
　　然后他又试着写歌剧，因为万事开头时，似乎总是有可能的。可是，在这方面，没有预料到的困难又袭击了他。他想用乔作女主人公。他借助记忆，为他提供爱情温柔的回忆及浪漫的想象。然而记忆背叛了他，好像被那姑娘乖张的性格缠住了，他只忆起乔的古怪、过失以及任性。记忆里只显现她最没有柔情的方面--头上扎着扎染印花大头巾，拍打着垫子，用沙发枕把自己堵住，或者对他的热情泼冷水--一阵抑制不住的笑毁了他费力勾画出的忧愁形象。无论如何，乔放不进那歌剧。他只好放弃她，说道："上帝保佑那姑娘，她真折磨人！"他扯着自己的头发，这个动作很像一个心烦意乱的谱曲家。
　　他四下搜寻，要另找一个不这么难对付的姑娘，使之在歌曲中不朽。记忆欣然地为他产生了一个幻像。这个幻像具有许多脸孔，但总是有着金发。她裹在漂渺的云雾中，在他脑海里轻盈地飘浮着。那玫瑰、孔雀、白马以及蓝丝带，图像混乱但却令人愉快。他没给这颇为自得的幻像命名，但却将她当成了女主人公，越来越喜欢她起来。他完全可以这样，因为他赋予她世间所有的天赋及优雅，护卫着她不受损伤地通过各种考验，这些考验会消灭任何一个凡胎女子的。
　　多亏了这个鼓舞，他顺畅地过了一段时间。可是渐渐地这件工作失去了魅力，他忘掉了谱曲。他坐在那里，手握钢笔沉思着，或者在欢快的市区到处漫游，以得到新的思想清醒头脑。那个冬天，他的脑子似乎一直处于某种不安定状态，他做得不多，想得却不少。他意识到他身不由己地产生了某种变化。"也许，是在酝酿天才，我让它去酝酿，看看会有什么结果，"他说，同时始终暗自怀疑那不是什么天才，也许只是非常普通的东西。不管是什么，它酝酿得相当成功，因为，他越来越不满足他散漫的生活，他开始渴望认真地、全身心地从事某件真正的工作。最后他选择了明智的结论：并不是所有喜爱音乐的人都是作曲家。皇家剧院上演着莫扎特的气势恢宏的歌剧，听完歌剧回来，他看了看自己谱的曲，演奏了其中最好的一部分，他坐在那儿盯着门德尔松、贝多芬、巴赫的塑像看着，而塑像也宽厚地回看着他。突然他一张接一张地扯碎了他所有的乐谱。当最后一张从他手里飘落时，他清醒地自言自语道--"她是对的！天赋不是天才，你不能使天赋产生天才。音乐去掉了我的虚荣心，就像罗马去掉了她的虚荣心一样。我不会再当冒牌艺术家了。现在我该做些什么呢？"这个问题似乎难以回答，劳里开始希望，要是他必须为每日的面包工作就好了。现在几乎出现了一个适当的机会"去见鬼"，就像他曾经用力说出的那样，因为他有许多钱，却无事可干，而撒旦如谚语所说喜欢为手中有钱的闲散人提供工作。这个可怜的家伙从里到外都受着足够多的诱惑，但是他很好地经受住了。因为，尽管他喜欢自由，但他更看重好的信念与信心。他向爷爷做过保证，他自己也希望能够诚实地看着那些爱他的妇人们的眼睛，说："一切都好。"这些保持了他的平安与稳定。
　　很可能某个好挑剔的太太会评论："我不相信。男孩就是男孩。年轻人肯定会干荒唐事。女人们别指望出现奇迹。"挑剔的太太，我敢说你是不相信，然而那是真的。女人们创造出许多奇迹，我确信她们通过拒绝附和这种说法，甚至能提高男人们的素质。就让男孩为男孩吧，时间越长越好。让年轻人干荒唐事吧，假如他们非干不可的话。但是，母亲们、姐妹们、朋友们可以帮他们，使荒唐事少一点，防止莠草破坏收成。她们相信，也这样表示，他们有可能忠实于美德，这些美德使他们在良家妇女的眼里更具男子气。如果这些是妇人的幻想，就让我们尽情沉湎于其中吧。因为，没有它，生活便失去了一半的美和浪漫。可悲的预示给我们对那些勇敢、心地温和的小伙子们的所有希望增添了苦味。小伙子们仍然爱母亲胜过爱自己，并且承认这一点不觉羞耻。
　　劳里以为忘掉他对乔的爱要占去他几年的精力，可是使他大为惊奇的是，他发现自己一天天轻松起来。开始他不愿相信，他生自己的气，他理解不了。可是，我们的心奇妙而又矛盾，时间和自然的意志由不得我们。劳里的心不肯伤疼了，伤口坚决地愈合，其速度令他吃惊，他发觉自己不是在试图忘却，而是在试图记起。他没有预料到事情会这样转变，也没有做好准备应付。他讨厌自己，对自己的轻浮感到惊奇。
　　他的心情充满了古怪的混合成份，又是失望，又是宽慰。他竟能从这样巨大的打击中恢复过来。他小心翼翼地拨弄着他失去的爱火的余烬，可是它们燃不成烈焰，只有令人舒服的灼热，这温暖了他，给他好处，却不使他进入狂热状态。他不情愿地被迫承认，他那孩子气的热情已慢慢降低为较为平和的感情，非常柔弱，还有点悲哀与不满，但最终肯定会消失，留下兄长般的感情，这种感情不会破损，会一直持续到底。
　　有这样的沉思中，当脑中闪过"兄长般的"字眼时，他笑了，他向对面墙上的莫扎特像平扫了一眼。
　　"嗯，他是个伟人。他得不到一个妹妹，便找了另一个，他感到了幸福。"劳里没说出这些话，但是他想到了这些。转眼他亲了亲那小旧指环，自言自语道："不，我不会的。我还没忘记，我决不会。我要再试试。假如那样失败了，哎呀，那么--"他这句话没说完，便抓起纸笔写信给乔，告诉她只要她还有改变主意的一线可能，他就无法安心做任何事。她能不能爱他？肯不肯爱他？能让他回家做一个幸福的人吗？他在等候答复的期间什么也没做。但是信却写得充满活力，因为他处于一种燥热中。答复终于来了，在那一点上有效地使他安了心。乔决然不能也不肯爱他。她埋头于贝思的事情，决不愿再听到"爱情"一词。然后她求他去找别人共享幸福，为他亲爱的乔妹在心里永远留个小角落。在附言中，她希望他不要告诉艾美，贝思的情况恶化了。艾美春天就要回家，没有必要使她在国外剩下的日子里感到悲哀。请求上帝，但愿有足够的时间，但劳里必须常给艾美写信，不要让她感到孤单、想家或是焦急。
　　"我会这么做的，马上就做。可怜的小姑娘，恐怕她要悲哀地回家了。"劳里打开了他的书桌，仿佛给艾美写信就是前几个星期没说完的那句话的恰当收尾。
　　但是他那天并没有写信，因为当他翻找着最好的纸张时，看到了一些东西，使他改变了意图。桌子的一个抽屉里乱放着帐单、护照以及各种各样的商业文件。乔的一些来信也在期间。另一个抽屉里放着艾美的三封来信，仔细地用她的蓝丝带束着，还有那已枯萎的小玫瑰，它们带着甜蜜的暗示，放在抽屉的深处。劳里的表情半是后悔，半是开心，他收起乔所有的信件，把它们抚平、折叠起来，整整齐齐地放进桌子的一个小抽屉里。他站了一会儿，若有所思地转着手上的指环，然后慢慢地将它卸了下来，和信放在一起，锁上了抽屉。
　　他出去到圣·斯蒂芬教堂听大弥撒，仿佛觉得那儿进行着葬礼。虽然他没有被痛苦压倒，可是较之给迷人的年轻女士写信，这样度过这一天剩下的时间似乎为更得体。
　　然而他不久便去发了信，也迅即得到了回复，因为艾美确实想家了，她以非常坦诚的信任态度承认了这一点。他们的信件来往频繁，内容丰富。整个早春季节，定期飞鸿从未间断。劳里卖掉了塑像，烧掉了他的歌剧，回到了巴黎。他希望不久某个人便会到达。他极想去尼斯，但是得有人请他，他才会去。而艾美是不会请他的，因为当时她自己正有些小小的经历，使她宁愿避开"我们的男孩"的好奇目光。
　　弗雷德·沃恩回来了，向她提出了那个问题。她曾经决定回答："愿意，谢谢。"现在她却说："不，谢谢。"说得客气，但是坚定。因为，那一时刻来临时，她没了勇气，她发现了除了金钱和地位，还需要某种东西来满足一种新的渴求，这种渴求使她内心充满了温柔的希望与惶恐。"弗雷德是个好小伙子，但我想不是你会喜欢的那种。"这句话以及劳里说这句话时的表情，执拗地不断出现在她的脑海；还有她自己不是用言语，而是用神色表达的意思："我要为钱而结婚。"现在回忆起这些使她烦心。她但愿能收回那句话，那听起来那么没有女人气。她不想让劳里把她看成个无情的世俗女人。现在她不在乎当社交皇后了，她更想做一个可爱的妇人。尽管她对劳里说了那些可怕的话，他不记恨她，反而那么宽厚地接受了，并且比以前更亲切，她感到异常高兴。他的来信让她感到十分熨贴，因为家信很不定期了，即使家信来了，也没有他的信一半令人满意。回复这些信件不仅是件乐事，也是个责任，因为乔坚持做铁石心肠的人，这可怜的人儿绝望了，需要抚慰。乔本来应该作出努力，试着爱他的。那并不难做到，因为，有这样一个可爱的男孩喜欢自己，很多人都会感到自豪喜悦的。然而，乔办事从来不像别的女孩，因此，没别的法子，只有对他非常客气，待他如兄长。
　　在这种时期，要是所有的兄长们都能受到劳里这样的对待，他们会比现在更幸福。艾美现在从不教训他了。所有的问题她都征求他的意见，他做的每一件事她都感到趣味盎然。
　　她为他制作迷人的小礼物，每星期给他寄两封信，信里满是愉快的闲谈、妹妹般的信任，以及她画的那些很优美的风景画习作。几乎没有哪个兄长得到过这样的礼遇：妹妹们将他们的来信放在口袋里，反复阅读品味。信短了便哭，信长了便吻着它，将它仔细珍藏。这不是要暗示艾美做了些可爱的傻事，可是，那个春天她的脸色肯定变得有点苍白了，也爱沉思了。她大大丧失了社交的兴趣。她常常独自出门作画，回来时却从来拿不出多少幅画给人看。我敢说，她是在研究大自然。她在玫瑰谷的平台上一坐便是几小时。她袖着手坐在那儿，要不便心不在焉地画着脑中出现的任何图像--雕刻在坟墓上的一个健壮的骑士，睡在草地上的一个年轻人，帽子盖着眼睛；或者一个穿着华丽的鬈发姑娘，偎依在一个高个子先生的臂弯里，在舞厅绕场行进。按照最新的艺术时尚，两个人的脸画得模糊不清，这样安全，但一点也不令人感到满足。
　　婶婶以为艾美后悔她对弗雷德作出的回答，并且她没法否认，又解释不清。艾美任由婶婶想去。她谨慎地让劳里知道弗雷德去了埃及。就这么多，但是劳里懂了。他好像是放心了，他带着庄严的神气自言自语--"我确信她会改变主意的。可怜的家伙！这一切我都经历过了。我同情他。"说完这些，他长吁一口气，然后，仿佛对过去的事已尽到了义务，他把脚跷到了沙发上，非常舒适地欣赏起艾美的来信。
　　在国外的人发生这些变化的同时，家里已经发生了变故。
　　但是谈到贝思的健康衰退的信从来到不了艾美手中，她得到下一封信时，姐姐坟头上的草已经绿了。她是在沃韦市得到这个悲哀的消息的，因为，五月的高温迫使她们离开了尼斯。
　　她们经过日内瓦和意大利的湖泊，慢慢旅行到了瑞士。她坚强地接受了这件事。她默默地依从了家里人的意思，没有缩短她的旅程。既然已经太晚了，无法和贝思道别，她最好还是呆下去，让死别软化她的痛苦。但是，她的心非常沉重，她渴望能呆在家里，每天她都渴盼地望着湖对面，等待劳里来安慰她。
　　很快，劳里真的来了。同一批邮件带来了他们两个的信件，但是他在德国，他过了几天才收到信。他一读完信，便打起背包，告别了他的游伴，出发去履行诺言。他心中充满了喜悦与痛苦，希望与悬虑。
　　他非常熟悉沃韦市。小船一靠上那小码头，他便沿着湖岸向城楼匆匆走去。卡罗尔一家寄宿在那里。小伙子感到失望，因为全家人到湖边散步去了。可是，不，那金发小姐也许在城堡花园里。要是先生愿意费心坐下，一瞬间她便会出现。然而，先生甚至"一瞬间"也等不了，说着话便出发亲自去找小姐。
　　这是个令人心旷神怡的古老花园。它坐落在美丽的湖畔，高高的栗子树发着沙沙声，到处爬满了常春藤，塔楼的黑影 投射在洒满阳光的湖面上。在那宽大低矮的城墙一角有个座位，艾美常来这里读书，做活，或者看着身边的美景安慰自己。那天她就坐在那里。她手抚着头，心中弥满乡思，眼里尽是哀愁。她想着贝思，奇怪劳里为什么不来。她没有听见他穿过那边庭院时发出的声音，也没有看到他在拱道里驻步。
　　拱道穿过地下小路通往花园。他站了一会儿，以新的眼光看着她，看到了以前无法看到的东西--艾美性格里温柔的一面。她身上的一切都无声地暗示出爱与痛苦--膝盖上字迹弄污了的信件，束着头发的黑色丝带，脸上妇人般的痛苦与坚忍的表情；在劳里看来，甚至她脖子上的那个乌木制的小小十字架也十分使人感伤。那个十字架是他给她的，她作为唯一的装饰佩戴在身上。假如他对她会怎样接待他心存疑虑的话，她一抬头看到他，他便放心了。因为，她丢下所有的东西，跑到他面前，用一种不容置疑的爱与渴盼的语调惊叫道--"哦，劳里，劳里，我就知道你会到我这儿来的！"我想，当时一切都说出来了，一切都安定了。他们一块儿站在那里，有一会儿不说话了。那个深色脑袋护卫似地弯向那浅色脑袋。艾美感到没有谁能像劳里那样好地安慰她，支撑她。劳里认定艾美是世上唯一能代替乔使他幸福的女人。他没有这样告诉她，她并不失望，因为，两个人都感觉到了这个事实。他们满意了，乐于将其他的事交于沉默。
　　一会儿后，艾美回到了她的位置，她擦着眼泪，劳里收拢起刚才散开的纸张。他看到了各种各样弄得破旧不堪的信件，还有一些含有暗示的绘画习作。他从中发现了将来的吉兆。他在她身旁坐下时，艾美又感到羞涩了，想到刚才那样冲动地迎接他，她脸红得像朵玫瑰。
　　"我忍不住，我感到那么孤独，那么悲伤，看到你那么高兴。就在我开始担心你不会来了时，抬起头就发现了你，让人多么惊喜，"她说，她徒劳地试图神态自然地与他说话。
　　"我一收到信就来了。失去了亲爱的小贝思，我真希望能说些什么话安慰你。可是我只能感受到，嗯--"他说不下去了，因为他突然也变得羞怯起来，完全不知道该说什么了。
　　他很想让艾美将头靠在他的肩膀上，让她痛快地哭一场，可是他不敢。因此他只是握住她的手，充满同情地捏了一下，这样的效果胜于言语。
　　"你不必说什么，这样就让我感到了安慰，"她轻轻地说，"贝思好了，她幸福了。我不应该希望她回来。可是，虽然我盼望见到家人，却害怕回家。现在我们不谈这件事吧，那会使我哭泣，我想在你逗留期间享受和你在一起的乐趣。你不需要马上回去，是吗？""你要我的话我就不走，亲爱的。""我要，非常需要。婶婶和弗洛非常亲切，而你就像我们的家庭成员，和你在一起共度时光我就不再寂寞。"艾美发自内心的话和神情都全然像一个想家的孩子，劳里马上忘掉了羞怯，给了她正想要的东西--她习惯受到的爱抚以及她需要的那种亲近的谈话。
　　"可怜的小人儿，看上去你好像悲伤得快要生病了！我来照顾你，所以别再哭了。来，和我一起走走，坐在这里不动，风太凉了，"他用艾美喜欢的那种半是哄劝半是命令的语调说。他为她系上帽带，让她挽其他的胳膊，他们开始在长满新叶的栗树下沿着阳光灿烂的小路散起步来。他感到脚步更加轻松，艾美则感到满心欢喜。她有个强健的肩膀，给她依靠，有个亲切的面孔向她微笑，有个友好的声音只和她愉快地谈话。
　　这个古雅的花园曾经荫护过许多恋人。它似乎是特意为恋人们建造的。花园里阳光和煦，十分幽静，只有塔楼俯视着他们，宽阔的湖面带走了他们绵绵情话的回声，湖水在花园下面潺潺流过。有那么一个小时的阳光，这对新的情侣漫步交谈，有时靠在城墙上歇息。他们在心灵感应中陶醉，这种感应弥漫于时间与空间。就在这时，毫无浪漫情调的晚餐铃声响了，告诫他们离开。艾美感到仿佛将孤独与痛苦的重负留在了城堡的花园里。
　　卡罗尔太太一看到姑娘变化了的神情，便受到了一个新的念头的启发。她内心惊叹道："现在我明白了一切--这孩子一直盼望着小劳伦斯。我的天哪，我怎么就没想到！"这个好太太考虑事情周到，值得赞扬。她什么也没说，也没露出明白此事的迹象，只是热诚地敦促劳里留下来，请求艾美乐意与他为伴，这样比太多的孤独对她更有好处。艾美是温顺的典范。婶婶专注于照顾弗洛，于是，便由她招待她的朋友，她做得比往日更为体贴入微。
　　在尼斯时，劳里无所事事，艾美指责他。在沃韦，劳里从不闲混，却总是散步、骑马、划船，或者精力非常充沛地学习。而艾美赞赏着他做的一切，并尽可能地向他学习。他说变化得归于气候，艾美并不反驳他。她自己的健康和情绪都恢复了，乐意有这相同的借口。
　　这令人心旷神怡的空气对他们两个都大为有益。大运动量使他们的身心都起了明显的变化。身处绵延不断的群山中的城堡之上，他们似乎有了更清晰的人生观与责任感。清新的风儿吹走了心灰意懒的疑虑、虚妄的幻想和忧郁的迷惑；温暖的春日阳光带来了各种抱负、温柔的希望、幸福的思想；湖水似乎冲走了往日的烦恼，亘古的大山似乎仁慈地俯视着他们，对他们说："小孩们，互爱吧！"尽管有贝思离世这一新的痛苦，他们过得还是十分快乐。
　　太快乐了，劳里竟不忍用一个字眼打搅它。他惊奇自己这么快就治愈了第一次的爱情创伤，他曾经坚定地相信：那会是他最后一次也是他唯一的爱情。不久，他便从那惊奇中恢复过来。虽然表面上对乔不忠，可他想，乔的妹妹几乎就是乔自己。他确信，除了艾美，他不可能这么快、这么深地爱上任何别的女人。他以此安慰自己。他的第一次求爱是暴风雨式的，他带着交织着怜悯与遗憾的复杂感情回顾它，仿佛是在追溯久远的往事。他不为它感到羞愧，而是把它作为人生中一次又苦又甜的经历珍藏起来。痛苦结束了，他为之心存感激，他决心要让他的第二次求爱尽可能平静、简单：没必要设置场景，更没必要告诉艾美他爱她。不用言语，她已知道，而且很早以前已给了他答复。一切发生得那么自然，没有人能抱怨。他知道每个人都会喜欢，甚至乔也会的。然而，我们第一次的小小热情被压制了，我们便倾向于谨慎行事，慢慢作出第二次尝试。所以劳里任由日子流逝，享受着每一个小时的快乐时光。他静候命运安排他说出那一字眼，那个字 将会结束他新的恋爱开初最甜蜜的部分。
　　他原意想象着结局发生在月光下的城堡花园，以最优雅庄重的形式进行。可是结果正好相反。中午在湖上几句直率的谈话，事情便定了下来。整个早上他们都在湖面泛舟，从背阳的圣然戈尔夫城划到向阳的蒙特勒城，湖的一边是萨瓦山，另一边是伯纳德山峰和南峭峰，美丽的沃韦市掩映在深谷中。山那边是洛桑市，头顶是无云的蓝天，下面流着湛蓝的湖水，富有画趣的小舟点缀湖中，像是一只只白翼海鸥。
　　小船划过希永时，他们一直谈论着玻尼瓦尔德。后来他们抬头看到了克拉朗，他们又谈起了卢梭，在这里他写下了《埃洛伊兹》。他们两人都没读过那本书，但是知道那是个爱情故事。两个人暗自怀疑那个故事有没有他们自己的一半有趣。在他俩谈话的小小间隙里，艾美用手轻抚着湖水。当她抬起头时，看到劳里靠在桨上，眼神使她赶忙说话，她只是觉得要说点什么--"你一定累了，歇会儿吧。我来划，这对我有好处。你来后我一直懒散，享乐。""我不累，要是你愿意，你可以划一支桨。这里地方够大的，不过我得几乎坐在中间，不然船就不能平衡，"劳里答道。
　　他似乎很喜欢这样的安排。
　　处境没得到改善，艾美感到尴尬，她在劳里让出的三分之一的位子上坐下，甩开脸上的头发，接过了一支桨。艾美划船和干许多别的事情一样好。尽管她用两只手划，劳里只用了一只手划，船还是平稳地在水面上滑行。
　　"我们划得多好啊！是不是？"艾美说，那时她不愿意有沉默。
　　"非常好，但愿我们能永远地在一条船上划桨，愿意吗，艾美？"问话非常温柔。
　　"愿意，劳里，"回答声音很低。
　　于是两个人都停桨不划了。他们无意识地为映在湖水中隐隐约约的画面重构了一幅优美动人的图景，那便是人类的爱情与幸福之图。
  
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Chapter Forty The Valley of the Shadow


When the first bitterness was over, the family accepted the inevitable, and tried to bear it cheerfully, helping one another by the increased affection which comes to bind households tenderly together in times of trouble. They put away their grief, and each did his or her part toward making that last year a happy one.
The pleasantest room in the house was set apart for Beth, and in it was gathered everything that she most loved, flowers, pictures, her piano, the little worktable, and the beloved pussies. Father's best books found their way there, Mother's easy chair, Jo's desk, Amy's finest sketches, and every day Meg brought her babies on a loving pilgrimage, to make sunshine for Aunty Beth. John quietly set apart a little sum, that he might enjoy the pleasure of keeping the invalid supplied with the fruit she loved and longed for. Old Hannah never wearied of concocting dainty dishes to tempt a capricious appetite, dropping tears as she worked, and from across the sea came little gifts and cheerful letters, seeming to bring breaths of warmth and fragrance from lands that know no winter.
Here, cherished like a household saint in its shrine, sat Beth, tranquil and busy as ever, for nothing could change the sweet, unselfish nature, and even while preparing to leave life, she tried to make it happier for those who should remain behind. The feeble fingers were never idle, and one of her pleasures was to make little things for the school children daily passing to and fro, to drop a pair of mittens from her window for a pair of purple hands, a needlebook for some small mother of many dolls, penwipers for young penmen toiling through forests of pothooks, scrapbooks for picture-loving eyes, and all manner of pleasant devices, till the reluctant climbers of the ladder of learning found their way strewn with flowers, as it were, and came to regard the gentle giver as a sort of fairy godmother, who sat above there, and showered down gifts miraculously suited to their tastes and needs. If Beth had wanted any reward, she found it in the bright little faces always turned up to her window, with nods and smiles, and the droll little letters which came to her, full of blots and gratitude.
The first few months were very happy ones, and Beth often used to look round, and say "How beautiful this is!" as they all sat together in her sunny room, the babies kicking and crowing on the floor, mother and sisters working near, and father reading, in his pleasant voice, from the wise old books which seemed rich in good and comfortable words, as applicable now as when written centuries ago, a little chapel, where a paternal priest taught his flock the hard lessons all must learn, trying to show them that hope can comfort love, and faith make resignation possible. Simple sermons, that went straight to the souls of those who listened, for the father's heart was in the minister's religion, and the frequent falter in the voice gave a double eloquence to the words he spoke or read.
It was well for all that this peaceful time was given them as preparation for the sad hours to come, for by-and-by, Beth said the needle was `so heavy', and put it down forever. Talking wearied her, faces troubled her, pain claimed her for its own, and her tranquil spirit was sorrowfully perturbed by the ills that vexed her feeble flesh. Ah me! Such heavy days, such long, long nights, such aching hearts and imploring prayers, when those who loved her best were forced to see the thin hands stretched out to them beseechingly, to hear the bitter cry, "Help me, help me!" and to feel that there was no help. A sad eclipse of the serene soul, a sharp struggle of the young life with death, but both were mercifully brief, and then the natural rebellion over, the old peace returned more beautiful than ever. With the wreck of her frail body, Beth's soul grew strong, and though she said little, those about her felt that she was ready, saw that the first pilgrim called was likewise the fittest, and waited with her on the shore, trying to see the Shining Ones coming to receive her when she crossed the river.
Jo never left her for an hour since Beth had said "I feel stronger when you are here." She slept on a couch in the room, waking often to renew the fire, to feed, lift, or wait upon the patient creature who seldom asked for anything, and `tried not to be a trouble'. All day she haunted the room, jealous of any other nurse, and prouder of being chosen then than of any honor her life ever brought her. Precious and helpful hours to Jo, for now her heart received the teaching that it needed. Lessons in patience were so sweetly taught her that she could not fail to learn them, charity for all, the lovely spirit that can forgive and truly forget unkindness, the loyalty to duty that makes the hardest easy, and the sincere faith that fears nothing, but trusts undoubtingly.
Often when she woke Jo found Beth reading in her well-worn little book, heard her singing softly, to beguile the sleepless night, or saw her lean her face upon her hands, while slow tears dropped through the transparent fingers, and Jo would lie watching her with thoughts too deep for tears, feeling that Beth, in her simple, unselfish way, was trying to wean herself from the dear old life, and fit herself for the life to come, by sacred words of comfort, quiet prayers, and the music she loved so well.
Seeing this did more for Jo than the wisest sermons, the saintliest hymns, the most fervent prayers that any voice could utter. For with eyes made clear by many tears, and a heart softened by the tenderest sorrow, she recognized the beauty of her sister's life--uneventful, unambitious, yet full of the genuine virtues which `smell sweet, and blossom in the dust', the self-forgetfulness that makes the humblest on earth remembered soonest in heaven, the true success which is possible to all.
One night when Beth looked among the books upon her table, to find something to make her forget the mortal weariness that was almost as hard to bear as pain, as she turned the leaves of her old favorite, Pilgrims's Progress, she found a little paper, scribbled over in Jo's hand. The name caught her eye and the blurred look of the lines made her sure that tears had fallen on it.
"Poor Jo! She's fast asleep, so I won't wake her to ask leave. She shows me all her things, and I don't think she'll mind if I look at this", thought Beth, with a glance at her sister, who lay on the rug, with the tongs beside her, ready to wake up the minute the log fell apart.


MY BETH
Sitting patient in the shadow
Till the blessed light shall come,
A serene and saintly presence
Sanctifies our troubled home.
Earthly joys and hopes and sorrows
Break like ripples on the strand
Of the deep and solemn river
Where her willing feet now stand.
O my sister, passing from me,
Out of human care and strife,
Leave me, as a gift, those virtues
Which have beautified your life.
Dear, bequeath me that great patience
Which has power to sustain
A cheerful, uncomplaining spirit
In its prison-house of pain.
Give me, for I need it sorely,
Of that courage, wise and sweet,
Which has made the path of duty
Green beneath your willing feet.
Give me that unselfish nature,
That with charity devine
Can pardon wrong for love's dear sake--
Meek heart, forgive me mine!
Thus our parting daily loseth
Something of its bitter pain,
And while learning this hard lesson,
My great loss becomes my gain.
For the touch of grief will render
My wild nature more serene,
Give to life new aspirations,
A new trust in the unseen.
Henceforth, safe across the river,
I shall see forever more
A beloved, household spirit
Waiting for me on the shore.
Hope and faith, born of my sorrow,
Guardian angels shall become,
And the sister gone before me
By their hands shall lead me home.

Blurred and blotted, faulty and feeble as the lines were, they brought a look of inexpressible comfort to Beth's face, for her one regret had been that she had done so little, and this seemed to assure her that her life had not been useless, that her death would not bring the despair she feared. As she sat with the paper folded between her hands, the charred log fell asunder. Jo started up, revived the blaze, and crept to the bedside, hoping Beth slept.
"Not asleep, but so happy, dear. See, I found this and read it. I knew you wouldn't care. Have I been all that to you, Jo?" she asked, with wistful, humble earnestness.
"OH, Beth, so much, so much!" And Jo's head went down upon the pillow beside her sister's.
"Then I don't feel as if I'd wasted my life. I'm not so good as you make me, but I have tried to do right. And now, when it's too late to begin even to do better, it's such a comfort to know that someone loves me so much, and feels as if I'd helped them."
"More than any one in the world, Beth. I used to think I couldn't let you go, but I'm learning to feel that I don't lose you, that you'll be more to me than ever, and death can't part us, though it seems to."
"I know it cannot, and I don't fear it any longer, for I'm sure I shall be your Beth still, to love and help you more than ever. You must take my place, Jo, and be everything to Father and Mother when I'm gone. They will turn to you, don't fail them, and if it's hard to work alone, remember that I don't forget you, and that you'll be happier in doing that than writing splendid books or seeing all the world, for love is the only thing that we can carry with us when we go, and it makes the go easy."
"I'll try, Beth." And then and there Jo renounced her old ambition, pledged herself to a new and better one, acknowledging the poverty of other desires, and feeling the blessed solace of a belief in the immortality of love.
So the spring days came and went , the sky grew clearer, the earth greener, the flowers were up fairly early, and the birds came back in time to say goodbye to Beth, who, like a tired but trustful child, clung to the hands that had led her all her life, as Father and Mother guided her tenderly through the Valley of the Shadow, and gave her up to God.
Seldom except in books do the dying utter memorable words, see visions, or depart with beatified countenances, and those who have sped many parting souls know that to most the end comes as naturally and simply as sleep. As Beth had hoped, the `tide went out easily', and in the dark hour before dawn, on the bosom where she had drawn her first breath, she quietly drew her last, with no farewell but one loving look, one little sigh.
With tears and prayers and tender hands, Mother and sisters made her ready for the long sleep that pain would never mar again, seeing with grateful eyes the beautiful serenity that soon replaced the pathetic patience that had wrung their hearts so long, and feeling with reverent joy that to their darling death was a benignant angel, not a phantom full of dread.
When morning came, for the first time in many months the fire was out, Jo's place was empty, and the room was very still. But a bird sang blithely on a budding bough, close by, the snowdrops blossomed freshly at the window, and the spring sunshine streamed in like a benediction over the placid face upon the pillow, a face so full of painless peace that those who loved it best smiled through their tears, and thanked God that Beth was well at last.



第四十章 死荫之谷

　　最初的痛苦过去了，全家人接受了那不可避免的事实。他们试图达观地直面它，用更多的爱相互帮助。在困境中，这种温馨之爱将全家人连结到一处。他们抛开悲伤，每个人都尽自己的力量，让贝思最后一年过得快乐。
　　家里最舒适的屋子腾出来给了贝思，她最喜欢的东西都集中到屋里来了--花朵、像片、她的钢琴、小工作桌，以及得宠的猫咪们。爸爸最好的书本也进了屋，还有妈妈的安乐椅，乔的写作桌，艾美最好的素描草图。梅格每天带两个孩子过来，虔诚地拜望贝思阿姨，为她制造快乐。约翰默默地留出一小笔钱，以保证病人能有她喜欢吃的和想吃的水果，这样他也能心有所安。老罕娜嬷嬷不厌其烦地烹制爽口的菜肴，来提高她那时好时坏的食欲；她一边做菜一边流泪。从大洋那边没有冬日的国度邮递过来的一些小礼品和信函送给她温温爱意、馥馥香馨。
　　贝思坐在这里，像是供奉在壁龛里的家庭圣贤。她像往常一样宁静、忙碌，什么也改变不了她那甜美、无私的品性，即便准备告别人世，她也试图使留下来继续活下去的人们快乐一些。她那虚弱的手指从未闲过，她的乐事之一便是为每天从旁经过的学童们制作小东西--在窗口放一两双手套，这是为冻紫了的手准备的；放个书形针盒，给某位拥有许多玩具娃娃的小母亲；放一些擦笔尖布，给那些在歪七竖八的笔划丛林里辛勤劳作的小书法家们；再放一些剪贴簿，给那些爱画画的孩子们；还有各种各样令人愉快的小玩意，直到那些极不情愿地攀登着学问阶梯的孩子们发现，他们的前进道路上鲜花灿烂。这时他们把那亲切的馈赠者看作是童话中的仙女。她坐在那上边，神秘地为他们抛投各种各样的心想之物。那些明亮的小脸蛋常出现在她的窗口，朝她点头笑着。
　　她也收到了些引人发笑的小小信件，里面满是感激，也满是墨渍。倘使贝思想得到什么回报的话，她已从中得到了回报。
　　开始的几个月非常幸福。贝思常常环视屋内，说："这多美妙啊！"大家都在她洒满阳光的屋子里坐在一起。两个孩子在地上踢着、欢闹着；妈妈和姐姐们在近旁做着活儿；爸爸用悦耳的声音读着那些古老而又充满智慧的书。书本里似乎有大量劝慰人的善言，如同几个世纪前写出时一样，一点也没有过时。这屋子成了一个小教堂，充当牧师的父亲在给他的羔羊们讲解那所有人必须学会的艰难课程，他试图向她们指出，希望能抚慰爱心，信仰能使人听从命运安排。简单的说教直入听者的心灵，爸爸沉浸在牧师的教义中，他那时而发颤的声音使他宣讲或朗读的语句愈加具有穿透力。
　　大家都很满意，因为他们享有了这段宁静的时光，为迎接那些悲哀时刻的到来做好了准备。不久，贝思便说针"太重了"，她永远地放下了针；说话使她疲倦，看到人们的脸孔使她心烦；疼痛攫住了她，病痛搅乱了她那平静的心灵，侵 扰着她那虚弱的肉体。哦，天哪！多么沉重的白天！多么漫长的夜晚！多么痛苦的心灵！多么虔诚的祈祷！那些深爱她的人们被迫看着她哀求地向她们伸出瘦弱的双手，听着她痛苦地叫着："救救我！救救我！"同时也懂得了绝望的滋味。一个安祥的灵魂惨然销蚀，一个年轻的生命与死神展开激烈的搏斗。仁慈的是，灵与肉的搏斗为时不长。后来，那种本能的反抗便结束了，她又恢复了以前的那种宁静状态而且更加动人。带着虚弱的病体，贝思的精神愈发坚强了。尽管她不说什么，但她身边的人们感觉到了她已做好远行的准备。他们晓得，被召唤的第一个朝圣者是品行最合格的人眩他们和她一起在岸边等候，希望在她驶向彼岸之时能看见前来迎接她的光彩夺目的天使们。
　　贝思对乔说："你在这里我感到有力些。"她这样说过后，乔离开她的时间再也没超过一小时。她睡在屋里的长沙发上，夜里常醒来添点火，喂她食物，搀扶她坐起或服侍汤药，而这个病人极少使唤她，"尽量不成为麻烦"。乔整天留在屋里，不满意那些护士，她为能陪伴贝思感到自豪，这种自豪超过了生活带给她的任何荣耀。这些时光对乔来说既宝贵又有益。
　　现在她真诚地接受了她所需要的教导：忍耐这一人生课程以这样美好的方式教给了她，她不能不学会。还有博爱，这种可贵的精神能宽恕别人并真正地忘却不和善的行为。还有恪尽职守，能化难难为坦途；以及那无所畏惧、毫不怀疑的信任中包含的真诚信念。
　　乔夜里醒来时，常发现贝思在读着她那本翻得很旧了的小书，听到她低低地唱着，以打发不眠之夜，有时贝思手捧着脸，眼泪慢慢地从那透明的指缝里滴下来。这时，乔总是躺着注视着她。乔想得很深，顾不得流泪了。她觉着，贝思用她那种简单、无私的方式，通过神圣的安慰话语、静静的祈祷以及她深爱的音乐，在试图使自己脱离这宝贵的人生，适应来世的生活。
　　最有智慧的说教、最圣洁的赞美诗，以及任何声音能说出的最炽烈的祷告，都不及看到的这些对乔的影响深巨。流了许多泪，眼睛反倒看清楚了。经受了最震撼人心的痛苦，心也变软了。她看到了妹妹的生命之美――平平淡淡、朴朴实实，可是都充满了真正的美德，"散发着芬芳，在尘埃中怒放"。那种忘我的品德使世间最谦卑的人在天堂被人间永久铭记。这种真正的成功每个人都可能得到。
　　一天夜里，贝思在桌上的书中找着，想找些什么读读，忘掉临终的厌倦，这种厌倦几乎和疼痛一样难以忍受。她翻着以前最喜爱的《天路历程》，发现了一张小纸片，上面涂满了乔的笔迹。一个名字吸引了她的目光，模糊的字行使她确信曾有眼泪掉落在上面。
　　"可怜的乔！她睡熟了，所以我不弄醒她请求允许了。她给我看她所有的东西，我想，要是我看了这个她不会介意的，"贝思想。她瞥了一眼姐姐，乔躺在地毯上，身边放着火钳，准备一当木柴烧散架，便醒来添火。
　　我的贝思
　　耐心地坐在阴影里，
　　直至那福光来临，
　　祥和圣洁的姿容，
　　使不安的家庭变得神圣。
　　人间的欢乐、希望与痛苦，
　　像阵阵涟漪，在河滩飞迸。
　　在那神圣的深深河流中，
　　她甘心情愿地将双脚蹚进。
　　哦，妹妹，你就要离我远去。
　　不再有人类的忧虑与竞争，
　　作为礼物，你留给我这些美德，
　　它们曾美化你的生命。
　　亲爱的，你遗赠我伟大的耐心，
　　它有力量支撑，
　　一个愉快、无怨的灵魂，
　　忍受监狱生活般的苦痛。
　　给我吧，我迫切地需要它，
　　那智慧与温情，
　　它曾使人生使命之路，
　　在你脚下如愿常青。
　　给我那无私的品性吧，
　　带着圣洁的博爱之心，
　　为爱之故，它能宽恕罪行--
　　宽恕我吧，仁惠之心！
　　时光消隐，我们如此分别，
　　至创深深。
　　艰难的人生课程，
　　我以至大牺牲换取收成。
　　抚摸不幸，
　　我之野性趋于和宁。
　　赐与我新生的渴望，
　　灵魂世界之信心。
　　未来人生，平安伫立对岸，
　　我将永远看见，
　　一个可爱的家庭之神，
　　在岸边候我殷殷。
　　希望与信念，由痛苦而生，
　　便是那守护天神，
　　还有妹妹，走在我前，
　　拉着我手，引领我回家之程。
　　虽然诗行字迹模糊，墨渍点点，诗句有些毛病，也不太有力，可是贝思读了，脸上露出无法表述的欣慰神色。她的遗憾之一便是她做的事太少，这首诗似乎使她确信，她的生命并非无益，而她的死亡不会带给人们她所担心的那种绝望。
　　她坐在那儿，手里拿着这张折叠起来的纸片，烧焦了的木头倒了下来，乔一惊而起，她拨亮了火，爬到床边，她料想贝思睡着了。
　　"没有睡着，但是非常幸福，亲爱的。瞧，我发现了这个，读过了，我知道你不会介意的。乔，我对你是那样的吗？"她带着既渴望又恭顺的认真神情问道。
　　"哦，贝思，你给我的太多，太多了！"乔的头落到了妹妹旁边的枕头上。
　　"那么我就感到似乎没有浪费生命。我并不像你写的那样好，但是我只想去做正确的事情。现在，想开始做更好的事也已经晚了。可是知道了有人这么爱我，感到我似乎帮助过她们，真的是令人无上安慰。""我爱你胜过世上任何人，贝思。我过去认为我不能放你走，可是我学着体会到我并没有失去你，你比以前对我的意义更大，死亡隔不开我们，尽管看上去是这样。""我知道隔不开的，我不再害怕了。我确信我仍然是你的贝思，我会比以前更爱你，更好地帮助你。乔，我走后你得代替我，做爸爸妈妈的贴心人。他们会依赖你的，别让他们失望。要是孤独很难忍受，记住我没有忘记你。记住做那些事，你会感到比写那些伟大的书，或者周游整个世界更加快乐。因为，我们离开人世时爱是唯一能带走的东西，它使生命的结束变得轻松。""我会做到的，贝思。"乔当时当地放弃了她以前的抱负，发誓实现这一新的、更好的抱负。她承认了其他愿望的空泛。
　　对不朽之爱的信念使她感受到了神圣的安慰。
　　就这样，春季一天天过去了，天空变得更加净朗，地上草儿愈发绿了，花儿们早早地便盛开了，鸟儿们及时飞回来向贝思道别。贝思像个疲倦却满怀信任的孩子，她紧握着领着她走过一生的父母的手，他们亲切地引着她穿过死荫的幽谷，然后将她交付给上帝。
　　除了书中描写的，垂死之人极少说出令人难忘的话语，或是看到显圣，带着极乐的神态辞世。那些多次送终的人知道，对大多数人来说，生命的结束如同睡眠一般自然、简单。正如贝思希望的那样，"潮流轻易地消退了"。
　　黎明前的黑暗时刻，偎在她来到人世第一次呼吸时所依的那个胸膛上，她静静地咽了气。她没有道别，只有那一片深情，一声小小的叹息。
　　妈妈和姐姐们哭着，祈祷着，她们轻手轻脚地为她的长眠做着准备。现在疼痛再也不能破坏她的睡眠了。她们心存感激地看到，美丽的宁静气氛很快便代替了悲哀的忍耐，这种心情已折磨她们这么长时间了。她们带着虔诚的喜悦之情感到，对她们的宝贝来说，死亡是一个仁慈的天使，而不是一个充满恐惧的鬼怪。
　　早晨来临时，这许多月中的第一次，炉火熄灭了，乔的位置空了，屋子里寂静无声。然而，附近一只鸟栖息在正发芽的树枝上欢快地唱着，窗边的雪花莲刚刚绽开。春日的阳光泻进屋里，照在枕头上那宁静的脸庞上，像是为她祝福--那张脸充满了没有疼痛的宁静。于是深爱她的人们透过泪眼笑了，她们感谢上帝，贝思终于得救了。
  
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Chapter Thirty-nine Lazy Laurence

Laurie went to Nice intending to stay a week, and remained a month. He was tired of wandering about alone, and Amy's familiar presence seemed to give a homelike charm to the foreign scenes in which she bore a part. He rather missed the `petting' he used to receive, and enjoyed a taste of it again, for no attentions, however flattering, from strangers, were half so pleasant as the sisterly adoration of the girls at home. Amy never would pet him like the others, but she was very glad to see him now, and quite clung to him, feeling that he was the representative of the dear family for whom she longed more than she would confess. They naturally took comfort in each other's society and were much together, riding, walking, dancing, or dawdling, for at Nice no one can be very industrious during the gay season. But, while apparently amusing themselves in the most careless fashion, they were half-consciously making discoveries and forming opinions about each other. Amy rose daily in the estimation of her friend, but he sank in hers, and each felt the truth before a word was spoken. Amy tried to please, and succeeded, for she was grateful for the many pleasures he gave her, and repaid him with the little services to which womanly women know how to lend an indescribable charm. Laurie made no effort of any kind, but just let himself drift along as comfortably as possible, trying to forget, and feeling that all women owed him a kind word because one had been cold to him. It cost him no effort to be generous, and he would have given Amy all the trinkets in Nice if she would have taken them, but at the same time he felt that he could not change the opinion she was forming of him, and he rather dreaded the keen blue eyes that seemed to watch him with such half-sorrowful, half-scornful surprise.
"All the rest have gone to Monaco for the day. I preferred to stay at home and write letters. They are done now, and I am going to Valrosa to sketch, will you come?' said Amy, as she joined Laurie one lovely day when he lounged in as usual about noon.
"Well, yes, but isn't it rather warm for such a long walk?" he answered slowly, for the shaded salon looked inviting after the glare without.
"I'm going to have the little carriage, and Baptiste can drive, so you'll have nothing to do but hold your umbrella, and keep your gloves nice," returned Amy, with a sarcastic glance at the immaculate kids, which were a weak point with Laurie.
"Then I'll go with pleasure." And he put out his hand for her sketchbook. But she tucked it under her arm with a sharp...
"Don't trouble yourself. It's no exertion to me, but you don't look equal to it."
Laurie lifted his eyebrows and followed at a leisurely pace as she ran downstairs, but when they got into the carriage he took the reins himself, and left little Baptiste nothing to do but fold his arms and fall asleep on his perch.
The two never quarreled. Amy was too well-bred, and just now Laurie was too lazy, so in a minute he peeped under her hatbrim with an inquiring air. She answered him with a smile, and they went on together in the most amicable manner.
It was a lovely drive, along winding roads rich in the picturesque scenes that delight beauty-loving eyes. Here an ancient monastery, whence the solemn chanting of the monks came down to them. There a bare-legged shepherd, in wooden shoes, pointed hat, and rough jacket over one shoulder, sat piping on a stone while his goats skipped among the rocks or lay at his feet. Meek, mouse-colored donkeys, laden with panniers of freshly cut grass passed by, with a pretty girl in a capaline sitting between the green piles, or an old woman spinning with a distaff as she went. Brown, soft-eyed children ran out from the quaint stone hovels to offer nosegays, or bunches of oranges still on the bough. Gnarled olive trees covered the hills with their dusky foliage, fruit hung golden in the orchard, and great scarlet anemones fringed the roadside, while beyond green slopes and craggy heights, the Maritime Alps rose sharp and white against the blue Italian sky.
Valrosa well deserved its name, for in that climate of perpetual summer roses blossomed everywhere. They overhung the archway, thrust themselves between the bars of the great gate with a sweet welcome to passers-by, and lined the avenue, winding through lemon trees and feathery palms up to the villa on the hill. Every shadowy nook, where seats invited one to stop and rest, was a mass of bloom, every cool grotto had its marble nymph smiling from a veil of flowers and every fountain reflected crimson, white, or pale pink roses, leaning down to smile at their own beauty. Roses covered the walls of the house, draped the cornices, climbed the pillars, and ran riot over the balustrade of the wide terrace,whence one looked down on the sunny Mediterranean, and the white-walled city on its shore.
"This is a regular honeymoon paradise, isn't it? Did you ever see such roses?" asked Amy, pausing on the terrace to enjoy the view, and a luxurious whiff of perfume that came wandering by.
"No, nor felt such thorns," returned Laurie, with his thumb in his mouth, after a vain attempt to capture a solitary scarlet flower that grew just beyond his reach.
"Try lower down, and pick those that have no thorns," said Amy, gathering three of the tiny cream-colored ones that starred the wall behind her. She put them in his buttonhole as a peace offering, and he stood a minute looking down at them with a curious expression, for in the Italian part of his nature there was a touch of superstition, and he was just then in that state of half-sweet, half-bitter melancholy, when imaginative young men find significance in trifles and food for romance everywhere. He had thought of Jo in reaching after the thorny red rose, for vivid flowers became her, and she had often worn ones like that from the greenhouse at home. The pale roses Amy gave him were the sort that the Italians lay in dead hands, never in bridal wreaths, and for a moment he wondered if the omen was for Jo or for himself, but the next instant his American common sense got the better of sentimentality, and he laughed a heartier laugh than Amy had heard since he came.
"It's good advice, you'd better take it and save your fingers," she said, thinking her speech amused him.
"Thank you, I will," he answered in jest, and a few months later he did it in earnest.
"Laurie, when are you going to your grandfather?" she asked presently, as she settled herself on a rustic seat.
"Very soon."
"You have said that a dozen times within the last three weeks."
"I dare say, short answers save trouble."
"He expects you, and you really ought to go."
"Hospitable creature! I know it."
"Then why don't you do it?"
"Natural depravity, I suppose."
"Natural indolence, you mean. It's really dreadful!"
And Amy looked severe.
"Not so bad as it seems, for I should only plague him if I went, so I might as well stay and plague you a little longer, you can bear it better, in fact I think it agrees with you excellently." And Laurie composed himself for a lounge on the broad ledge of the balustrade.
Amy shook her head and opened her sketchbook with an air of resignation, but she had made up her mind to lecture `that boy' and in a minute she began again.
"What are you doing just now?"
"Watching lizards."
"No, no. I mean what do you intend and wish to do?"
"Smoke a cigarette, if you'll allow me."
"How provoking you are! I don't approve of cigars and I will only allow it on condition that you let me put you into my sketch. I need a figure."
"With all the pleasure in life. How will you have me, full length or three-quarters, on my head or my heels? I should respectfully suggest a recumbent posture, then put yourself in also and call it `Dolce far niente'."
"Stay as you are, and go to sleep if you like. I intend to work hard," said Amy in her most energetic tone.
"What delightful enthusiasm!" And he leaned against a tall urn with an ir of entire satisfaction.
"What would Jo say if she saw you now?" asked Amy impatiently, hoping to stir him up by the mention of her still more energetic sister's name.
"As usual, `Go away, Teddy. I'm busy!'" He laughed as he spoke, but the laugh was not natural, and a shade passed over his face, for the utterance of the familiar name touched the wound that was not healed yet. Both tone and shadow struck Amy, for she had seen and heard them before, and now she looked up in time to catch a new expression on Laurie's face--a hard bitter look, full of pain, dissatisfaction, and regret. It was gone before she could study it and the listless expression back again. She watched him for a moment with artistic pleasure, thinking how like an Italian he looked, as he lay basking in the sun with uncovered head and eyes full of southern dreaminess, for he seemed to have forgotten her and fallen into a reverie.
"You look like the effigy of a young knight asleep on his tomb," she said, carefully tracing the well-cut profile defined against the dark stone.
"Wish I was!"
"That's a foolish wish, unless you have spoiled your life. You are so changed, I sometimes think--" There Amy stopped, with a half-timid, half-wistful look, more significant than her unfinished speech.
Laurie saw and understood the affectionate anxiety which she hesitated to express, and looking straight into her eyes, said, just as he used to say it to her mother, "It's all right, ma'am."
That satisfied her and set at rest the doubts that had begun to worry her lately. It also touched her, and she showed that it did, by the cordial tone in which she said...
"I'm glad of that! I didn't think you'd been a very bad boy, but I fancied you might have wasted money at that wicked Baden-Baden, lost your heart to some charming Frenchwoman with a husband, or got into some of the scrapes that young men seem to consider a necessary part of a foreign tour. Don't stay out there in the sun, come and lie on the grass here and `let us be friendly', as Jo used to say when we got in the sofa corner and told secrets."
Laurie obediently threw himself down on the turf, and began to amuse himself by sticking daisies into the ribbons of Amy's hat, that lay there.
"I'm all ready for the secrets." And he glanced up with a decided expression of interest in his eyes.
"I've none to tell. You may begin."
"Haven't one to bless myself with. I thought perhaps you'd had some news from home.."
"You have heard all that has come lately. Don't you hear often? I fancied Jo would send you volumes."
"She's very busy. I'm roving about so, it's impossible to be regular, you know. When do you begin your great work of art, Raphaella?' he asked. changing the subject abruptly after another pause, in which he had been wondering if Amy knew his secret and wanted to talk about it.
"Never," she answered, with a despondent but decided air. "Rome took all the vanity out of me, for after seeing the wonders there, I felt too insignificant to live and gave up all my foolish hopes in despair."
"Why should you, with so much energy and talent?"
"That's just why, because talent isn't genius, and no amount of energy can make it so. I want to be great, or nothing. I won't be a common-place dauber, so I don't intend to try any more."
"And what are you going to do with yourself now, if I may ask?"
"Polish up my other talents, and be an ornament to society, if I get the chance."
It was a characteristic speech, and sounded daring, but audacity becomes young people, and Amy's ambition had a good foundation. Laurie smiled, but he liked the spirit with which she took up a new purpose when a long-cherished one died, and spent no time lamenting.
"Good! And here is where Fred Vaughn comes in, I fancy."
Amy preserved a discreet silence, but there was a conscious look in her downcast face that made Laurie sit up and say gravely, "Now I'm going to play brother, and ask questions. May I?"
"I don't promise to answer."
"Your face will, if your tongue won't. You aren't woman of the world enough yet to hide your feelings, my dear. I heard rumors about Fred and you last year, and it's my private opinion that if he had not been called home so suddenly and detained so long, something would have come of it, hey?"
"That's not for me to say," was Amy's grim reply, but her lips would smile, and there was a traitorous sparkle of the eye which betrayed that she knew her power and enjoyed the knowledge.
"You are not engaged, I hope?" And Laurie looked very elder-brotherly and grave all of a sudden.
"No."
"But you will be, if he comes back and goes properly down on his knees, won't you?"
"Very likely."
"Then you are fond of old Fred?"
"I could be, if I tried."
"But you don't intend to try till the proper moment? Bless my soul, what unearthly prudence! He's a good fellow, Amy, but not the man I fancied you'd like."
"He is rich, a gentleman, and has delightful manners," began Amy, trying to be quite cool and dignified, but feeling a little ashamed of herself, in spite of the sincerity of her intentions.
"I understand. Queens of society can't get on without money, so you mean to make a good match, and start in that way? Quite right and proper, as the world goes, but it sounds odd from the lips of one of your mother's girls."
"True, nevertheless."
A short speech, but the quiet decision with which it was uttered contrasted curiously with the young speaker. Laurie felt this instinctively and laid himself down again, with a sense of disappointment which he could not explain. His look and silence, as well as a certain inward self-disapproval, ruffled Amy, and made her resolve to deliver her lecture without delay.
"I wish you'd do me the favor to rouse yourself a little," she said sharply.
"Do it for me, there's a dear girl."
"I could, if I tried." And she looked as if she would like doing it in the most summary style.
"Try, then. I give you leave," returned Laurie, who enjoyed having someone to tease, after his long abstinence from his favorite pastime.
"You'd be angry in five minutes."
"I'm never angry with you. It takes two flints to make a fire. You are as cool and soft as snow."
"You don't know what I can do. Snow produces a glow and a tingle, if applied rightly. Your indifference is half affectation, and a good stirring up would prove it."
"Stir away, it won't hurt me and it may amuse you, as the big man said when his little wife beat him. Regard me in the light of a husband or a carpet, and beat till you are tired, if that sort of exercise agrees with you."
Being decidedly nettled herself, and longing to see him shake off the apathy that so altered him, Amy sharpened both tongue and pencil, and began.
"Flo and I have got a new name for you. It's Lazy Laurence. How do you like it?"
She thought it would annoy him, but he only folded his arms under his head, with an imperturbable, "That's not bad. Thank you, ladies."
"Do you want to know what I honestly think of you?"
"Pining to be told."
"Well, I despise you." If she had even said `I hate you' in a petulant or coquettish tone, he would have laughed and rather liked it, but the grave, almost sad, accent in her voice made him open his eyes, and ask quickly...
"Why, if you please?"
"Because, with every chance for being good, useful, and happy, you are faulty, lazy, and miserable."
"Strong language, mademoiselle."
"If you like it, I'll go on."
"Pray do, it's quite interesting."
"I thought you'd find it so. Selfish people always like to talk about themselves."
"Am I selfish?" The question slipped out involuntarily and in a tone of surprise, for the one virtue on which he prided himself was generosity.
"Yes, very selfish," continued Amy, in a calm, cool voice, twice as effective just then as an angry one. "I'll show you how, for I've studied you while we were frolicking, and I'm not at all satisfied with you. Here you have been abroad nearly six months, and done nothing but waste time and money and disappoint your friends."
"Isn't a fellow to have any pleasure after a four-year grind?"
"You don't look as if you'd had much. At any rate, you are none the better for it, as far as I can see. I said when we first met that you had improved. Now I take it all back, for I don't think you half so nice as when I left you at home. You have grown abominably lazy, you like gossip, and waste time on frivolous things, you are contented to be petted and admired by silly people, instead of being loved and respected by wise ones. With money, talent, position, health, and beauty, ah you like that old Vanity! But it's the truth, so I can't help saying it, with all these splendid things to use and enjoy, you can find nothing to do but dawdle, and instead of being the man you ought to be, you are only..." There she stopped, with a look that had both pain and pity in it.
"Saint Laurence on a gridiron," added Laurie, blandly finishing the sentence. But the lecture began to take effect, for there was a wide-awake sparkle in his eyes now and a half-angry, half-injured expression replaced the former indifference.
"I supposed you'd take it so. You men tell us we are angels, and say we can make you what we will, but the instant we honestly try to do you good, you laugh at us and won't listen, which proves how much your flattery is worth." Amy spoke bitterly, and turned her back on the exasperating martyr at her feet.

In a minute a hand came down over the page, so that she could not draw, and Laurie's voice said, with a droll imitation of a penitent child, "I will be good, oh, I will be good!"
But Amy did not laugh, for she was in earnest, and tapping on the outspread hand with her pencil, said soberly, "Aren't you ashamed of a hand like that? It's as soft and white as a woman's, and looks as if it never did anything but wear Jouvin's best gloves and pick flowers for ladies. You are not a dandy, thank Heaven, so I'm glad to see there are no diamonds or big seal rings on it, only the little old one Jo gave you so long ago. Dear soul, I wish she was here to help me!"
"So do I!"
The hand vanished as suddenly as it came, and there was energy enough in the echo of her wish to suit even Amy. She glanced down at him with a new thought in her mind, but he was lying with his hat half over his face, as if for shade, and his mustache hid his mouth. She only saw his chest rise and fall, with a long breath that might have been a sigh, and the hand that wore the ring nestled down into the grass, as if to hide something too precious or too tender to be spoken of. All in a minute various hints and trifles assumed shape and significance in Amy's mind, and told her what her sister never had confided to her. She remembered that Laurie never spoke voluntarily of Jo, she recalled the shadow on his face just now, the change in his character, and the wearing of the little old ring which was no ornament to a handsome hand. Girls are quick to read such signs and feel their eloquence. Amy had fancied that perhaps a love trouble was at the bottom of the alteration, and now she was sure of it. Her keen eyes filled, and when she spoke again, it was in a voice that could be beautifully soft and kind when she chose to make it so.
"I know I have no right to talk so to you, Laurie, and if you weren't the sweetest-tempered fellow in the world, you'd be very angry with me. But we are all so fond and proud of you, I couldn't bear to think they should be disappointed in you at home as I have been, though, perhaps they would understand the change better than I do."
"I think they would," came from under the hat, in a grim tone, quite as touching as a broken one.
"They ought to have told me, and not let me go blundering and scolding, when I should have been more kind and patient than ever. I never did like that Miss Randal and now I hate her!" said artful Amy, wishing to be sure of her facts this time.
"Hang Miss Randal!" And Laurie knocked the hat off his face with a look that left no doubt of his sentiments toward that young lady.
"I beg pardon, I thought..." And there she paused diplomatically.
"No, you didn't, you knew perfectly well I never cared for anyone but Jo," Laurie said that in his old, impetuous tone, and turned his face away as he spoke.
"I did think so, but as they never said anything about it, and you came away, I supposed I was mistaken. And Jo wouldn't be kind to you? Why, I was sure she loved you dearly."
"She was kind, but not in the right way, and it's lucky for her she didn't love me, if I'm the good-for-nothing fellow you think me. It's her fault though, and you may tell her so."
The hard, bitter look came back again as he said that, and it troubled Amy, for she did not know what balm to apply.
"I was wrong, I didn't know. I'm very sorry I was so cross, but I can't help wishing you'd bear it better, Teddy, dear."
"Don't, that's her name for me!" And Laurie put up his hand with a quick gesture to stop the words spoken in Jo's half-kind, half-reproachful tone. "Wait till you've tried it yourself," he added in a low voice, as he pulled up the grass by the handful.
"I'd take it manfully, and be respected if i couldn't be loved," said Amy, with the decision of one who knew nothing about it.
Now, Laurie flattered himself that he had borne it remarkably well, making no moan, asking no sympathy, and taking his trouble away to live it down alone. Amy's lecture put the Matter in a new light, and for the first time it did look weak and selfish to lose heart at the first failure, and shut himself up in moody indifference. He felt as if suddenly shaken out of a pensive dream and found it impossible to go to sleep again. Presently he sat up and asked slowly, "Do you think Jo would despise me as you do?"
"Yes, if she saw you now. She hates lazy people. Why don't you do something splendid, and make her love you?"
"I did my best, but it was no use."
"Graduating well, you mean? That was no more than you ought to have done, for your grandfather's sake. It would have been shameful to fail after spending so much time and money, when everyone knew that you could do well."
"I did fail, say what you will, for Jo wouldn't love me,"
began Laurie, leaning his head on his hand in a despondent attitude.
"No, you didn't, and you'll say so in the end, for it did you good, and proved that you could do something if you tried. If you'd only set about another task of some sort, you'd soon be your hearty, happy self again, and forget your trouble."
"That's impossible."
"Try it and see. You needn't shrug your shoulders, and think, `Much she knows about such things'. I don't pretend to be wise, but I am observing, and I see a great deal more than you'd imagine. I'm interested in other people's experiences and inconsistencies, and though I can't explain, I remember and use them for my own benefit. Love Jo all your days, if you choose, but don't let it spoil you, for it's wicked to throw away so many good gifts because you can't have the one you want. There, I won't lecture any more, for I know you'll wake up and be a man in spite of that hardhearted girl."
Neither spoke for several minutes. Laurie sat turning the little ring on his finger, and Amy put the last touches to the hasty sketch she had been working at while she talked. Presently she put it on his knee, merely saying, "How do you like that?"
He looked and then he smiled, as he could not well help doing, for it was capitally done, the long, lazy figure on the grass, with listless face, half-shut eyes, and one hand holding a cigar, from which came the little wreath of smoke that encircled the dreamer's head.
"How well you draw!" he said, with a genuine surprise and pleasure at her skill, adding, with a half-laugh, "Yes, that's me."
"As you are. This is as you were." And Amy laid another sketch beside the one he held.
It was not nearly so well done, but there was a life and spirit in it which atoned for many faults, and it recalled the past so vividly that a sudden change swept over the young man's face as he looked. Only a rough sketch of Laurie taming a horse. Hat and coat were off, and every line of the active figure, resolute face, and commanding attitude was full of energy and meaning. The handsome brute, just subdued, stood arching his neck under the tightly drawn rein, with one foot impatiently pawing the ground, and ears pricked up as if listening for the voice that had mastered him. In the ruffled mane. The rider's breezy hair and erect attitude, there was a suggestion of suddenly arrested motion, of strength, courage, and youthful buoyancy that contrasted sharply with the supine grace of the `DOLCE FAR NIENTE' sketch. Laurie said nothing but as his eye went from one to the other, Amy say him flush up and fold his lips together as if he read and accepted the little lesson she had given him. That satisfied her, and without waiting for him to speak, she said, in her sprightly way...
"Don't you remember the day you played Rarey with Puck, and we all looked on? Meg and Beth were frightened, but Jo clapped and pranced, and I sat on the fence and drew you. I found that sketch in my portfolio the other day, touched it up, and kept it to show you."
"Much obliged. You've improved immensely since then, and I congratulate you. May I venture to suggest in ` a honeymoon paradise' that five o'clock is the dinner hour at your hotel?"
Laurie rose as he spoke, returned the pictures with a smile and a bow and looked at his watch, as if to remind her that even moral lectures should have an end. He tried to resume his former easy, indifferent air, but it was an affectation now, for the rousing had been more effacious than he would confess. Amy felt the shade of coldness in his manner, and said to herself . ..
"Now, I've offended him. Well, if it does him good, I'm glad, if it makes him hate me, I'm sorry, but it's true, and I can't take back a word of it."
They laughed and chatted all the way home, and little Baptist, up behind, thought that monsieur and madamoiselle were in charming spirits. But both felt ill at ease. The friendly frankness was disturbed, the sunshine had a shadow over it, and despite their apparent gaiety, there was a secret discontent in the heart of each.
"Shall we see you this evening, mon frere?" asked Amy, as they parted at her aunt's door.
"Unfortunately I have an engagement. Au revoir, madamoiselle." And Laurie bent as if to kiss her hand, in the foreign fashion, which became him better than many men. Something in his face made Amy say quickly and warmly...
"No, be yourself with me, Laurie, and part in the good old way. I'd rather have a hearty English handshake than all the sentimental salutations in France."
"Goodbye, dear." And with these words, uttered in the tone she liked, Laurie left her, after a handshake almost painful in its heartiness.
Next morning, instead of the usual call, Amy received a note which made her smile at the beginning and sigh at the end.


My Dear Mentor,
Please make my adieux to your aunt, and exult within yourself, for `Lazy Laurence' has gone to his grandpa, like the best of boys. A pleasant winter to you, and may the gods grant you a blissful honeymoon at Valrosa! I think Fred would be benefited by a rouser. Tell him so, with my congratulations.

Yours gratefully,
Telemachus

"Good boy! I'm glad he's gone," said Amy, with an approving smile. The next minute her face fell as she glanced about the empty room, adding, with an involuntary sigh, "Yes, I am glad, but how I shall miss him."



第三十九章 懒散的劳里

　　劳里到尼斯市来时，原打算呆一个星期的，结果逗留了一个月。他厌倦了独自游荡、艾美熟悉的身影似乎为异国风景增添了令人感到亲切的魅力。他十分怀念以前常受到的"宠爱"，并很高兴能再次品味到它。因为，陌生人给予的关注，无论怎样讨人欢喜，一半都赶不上家里那几个姑娘给予的姐妹般的赞赏。艾美从不像几个姐姐那样宠爱他，但是她现在见到他很高兴，而且相当依恋他，她感到他代表着亲爱的家人，她嘴上不说，心里却渴盼见到他们。他们两人自然地相互为伴，寻求安慰。他们很多时候在一起，骑马，散步，跳舞或者打发时光。在尼斯市欢乐的季节，没有谁能非常勤恳地工作。然而，他们明显地是在无忧无虑地消遣着，他们隐隐约约地对对方作出了发现，得出了看法。在她朋友的估量下，艾美的形象日渐高大，而他却低矮下去。没用只言片语，两人都悟到了那个事实。艾美试图取悦于他，她也成功了。她感激他给予了她许多快乐，她以小小的照顾报答他，温柔的妇人们懂得如何给那种照顾加上描述不出的迷人成份。
　　劳里没做任何努力，只是尽可能舒服地随心而为。他试图忘却，他感到所有的女人都欠着他一个亲切的字眼，因为一个 女人曾经对他冷淡过。慷慨在他来说并不费力，要是艾美愿意接受，他会送给艾美尼斯市所有的小饰物。可是，他同时又感到改变不了艾美对他产生的看法，他十分害怕那双敏锐的蓝眼睛，它们注视着他，流露出那种半是痛苦、半是轻蔑的惊奇神色。
　　"别的人都去摩纳哥消闲了，我宁愿呆在家里写信。现在信已写好了。我打算去玫瑰谷作画，你愿意去吗？"这一天天气不错，中午时分劳里像往常一样闲逛进来，艾美迎上去这样问道。
　　"唔，好的。可是走这么长路是不是太热了？"他慢慢地回答道。外面的骄阳使有树荫遮蔽的客厅显得诱人。
　　"我打算坐那小车去。巴普蒂斯特能驾车，所以没你干的事，你只要打着你的阳伞，让你的手套一尘不染，"艾美讥讽地答道。她扫视了一眼那干干净净的小伙子，这可是劳里的一个弱点。
　　"那么，我很乐意去。"他伸出手替她拿速写簿，可是她却把它夹到了胳膊下，尖刻地说--"别自找麻烦了，我不费力，可你不一定拿得了。"艾美跑下楼去，劳里皱起了眉头，他从容不迫地跟了下去。然而进了车厢，他便接过缰绳，小巴普蒂斯特反倒无事可做，只好在车架上袖起双手睡觉。
　　他们两个人从来不争吵--艾美十分有教养，而此刻劳里也太懒散，因此，一会儿后，他带着探究的神情从她的帽边下看她，她便报以微笑。两人又非常和睦地相处了。
　　驾车沿着蜿蜒的马路行驶使人赏心悦目，马路两旁如画的风景愉悦着艾美的眼睛。这里经过的是一座古寺，寺里传来僧侣们肃穆的颂经声。那里有个光腿穿木鞋的牧羊人，他头戴尖角帽，肩搭着粗布夹克衫，坐在石头上吹着笛子。他的羊儿们有的在石头间蹦跳，有的躺在他的脚下，逆来顺受的鼠灰色毛驴们驮着刚刚割下来的青草走过来了，青草堆中间要么坐着一个漂亮的戴着遮阳阔边软帽的女孩子，要么便坐着一位织着针线活的老妇人。目光柔和、皮肤棕色的孩子们从那古雅的石头小屋里跑出来，为路人提供花束，或者是还连在枝上的一串串柑橘。疙疙瘩瘩的橄榄树带着浓荫覆盖群山，果园里金黄的水果挂在枝头，大片红色的银莲花缀满路边。而绿色山坡和多石的山丘那边，近海的阿尔卑斯山映衬着意大利的蓝色晴空，银装素裹，直插云霄。
　　玫瑰谷名符其实。在那永恒的夏日气候里，到处盛开着玫瑰。它们悬垂在拱道上，从大门栅栏中伸出头来快乐地欢迎着路人。它们布满道旁，蜿蜒着穿过柠檬树和轻软的棕榈树直达山上的别墅。在每一处有荫凉的角落，座位吸引着路人驻足歇息，这里也有着满捧的玫瑰。在每一个凉爽的洞穴里，都有大理石的美女像，隔着玫瑰面纱展露笑容。每一眼泉都映出红色、白色、粉色的玫瑰花，它们俯身笑看自己美丽的身影。玫瑰花布满了房屋四壁，装饰着飞檐，攀上了柱子，蔓延到那宽阔气台的扶栏上。在那平台上，人们可以俯视阳光下的地中海，以及海岸边那座白墙环绕的城市。
　　"这真是个度蜜月的天堂，是不是？你可见到过这样的玫瑰？"艾美问。她在平台上驻足欣赏景致，惬意地吸着随风飘来的沁人花香。
　　"没见过，也没给这样的刺扎过，"劳里回答。他的大拇指放在嘴里，刚才他徒劳地去摘他够不着的那朵孤零零的红玫瑰。
　　"把枝子弯下来，摘那些不带刺的，"艾美说着，从她身后点缀在墙上的那些花儿中采下三朵乳白色的小玫瑰，然后插进劳里的钮扣眼，作为和平的礼物。劳里站了一会儿，带着古怪的神情看着小白花，因为，在他性格里的意大利部分有点迷信色彩。此刻他正处于一种半是甜蜜半是痛苦的忧郁心境中。想像力丰富的年轻人能从琐碎小事发现意义，无论从哪儿都能找到浪漫题材。当他伸手去摘那朵带刺的红玫瑰时，心里想到了乔，因为颜色鲜艳的花适合她，在家里她常佩戴从温室采来的那种红玫瑰，而意大利人放置死者手中的正是艾美给他的那种白玫瑰，这种白玫瑰从不见于新娘的花环上。有好一会儿，他想着这个预兆是乔的还是他自己的。可是转瞬间，他的美国人常识占了多愁善感心绪的上风。他开怀大笑，这种笑声从他来后艾美就没有听到过。
　　"这是个好建议，你最好接受以保全你的手指，"艾美说。
　　她以为是她的话逗乐了他。
　　"谢谢，我会接受的，"他开玩笑地回答。几个月后，他果然认真地接受了她的建议。
　　"劳里，你什么时候到你爷爷那儿去？"过了一会儿，她坐到一张粗木椅上问道。
　　"很快就去。"
　　"前三个星期里，你这样说了十几遍了。""我敢说，简短的回答省掉麻烦。" "他盼着你，你真的该去了。""好一个好客的人儿！我知道。""那你为什么不去呢？""出乎本性的堕落，我想。""你是说出乎本性的懒惰。这真可怕！"艾美看上去严厉了。
　　"并不像看上去那么糟糕。我要是去了只会烦他的，所以，我不妨呆下来再烦你一些时候，你能更好地忍受，我想这样也非常合你的胃口。"劳里准备靠在扶栏宽大的壁架上。
　　艾美摇摇头，带着听任他的神气打开了速写簿，但是，她打定了主意，要训导"那个男孩"。一会儿她又开了口。
　　"你在干什么？"
　　"看蜥蜴。"
　　"不，不，我是问你打算或者希望做什么。""抽支烟，要是你允许的话。""你真气人！我反对抽烟，只有在你让我画下你的情况下，才能允许你抽。我需要一个人体模型。""万分乐意。你要画我什么--全身还是四分之三？头还是脚？我倒想敬提建议，采用横卧姿势，然后画上你，把它叫做'Ｄｏｌｃｅeａｒｎｉｅｎｔｅ'。""就这样呆着，想睡就睡罢。我可要努力工作了，"艾美精力充沛地说。
　　"正中下怀！"劳里带着心满意足的神态靠在一个高坛子上。
　　"要是乔现在看到你，她会怎么说？"艾美不耐烦地说。她想通过提及她精力更加旺盛的姐姐的大名，使他振作起来。
　　"老调子：'走开，特迪，我忙着呢！'"他边说边笑着，但是笑声不自然，一道阴影掠过他的脸庞，因为说出的那个名字触及了他那还未愈合的伤口。那语调和阴影都打动了艾美，她以前听过也见过。现在她抬头看着他，及时捕捉到了劳里脸上一种新的表情--一种不容置疑的酸楚表情，充满痛苦、不满与悔恨。她还没来得及研究，它便消失了，那种无精打采的表情重又恢复。她带着艺术的情趣注视了他一会儿，觉得他看上去多像一个意大利人。他光着头躺在那里，沐浴在阳光中，眼里充满了南国的梦幻神色。此刻他似乎已经忘记了艾美，正在想得出神。
　　"你看上去就像一个年轻骑士的雕像，睡在自己的坟墓上，"艾美一边说，一边仔细地描着衬在黑色石头上轮廓分明的侧面像。
　　"但愿我真的是！"
　　"那可是个愚蠢的愿望，除非你毁了你的生命。你变了这么多，有时我想--"艾美说到这儿打住了，她的神情半是羞怯，半是愁闷，这比她没说完的话更有意味。
　　她犹豫着表达出的充满爱意的焦虑，劳里既看出来了，也懂得了。他直盯着她的眼睛，像过去常对她母亲说的那样说道："没事的，夫人。"这使她满意，并打消了最近开始使她担心的疑虑。这也使她感动。她表露出这些，用热诚的语调说--"那样我很高兴。我想你不会是一个非常坏的男孩。不过，我想象你在那邪恶的巴当-巴当丢了钱，爱上了某个有丈夫的法国女人，或者陷入了某种困境，那种困境年轻人似乎都认为是旅外生活的一个必要部分。别呆在太阳底下，过来躺到草地上，就像我们以前坐在沙发的角落里倾诉秘密时乔常说的那样：'让我们友好相处吧。'"劳里顺从地躺到了草地上，开始往近旁艾美帽子的丝带上贴雏菊，以此消遣。
　　"我准备好听秘密了。"他向上瞥了一眼艾美，眼神里流露出明显的兴趣。
　　"我没有秘密可说，你可以开始说了。"
　　"幸而我一个也没有。我以为你也许有一些家里的消息呢。""最近发生的事你都听说了。你不也常收到信？乔会给你寄来很多信的。""她很忙。而我这样到处游荡，你知道，不可能有规律。
　　你什么时候开始你那伟大的艺术工作，拉斐尔娜？"又停了一会他突然转变了话题。停顿时，他猜度着艾美是否已经知道了他的秘密，并且想和他谈这个问题。
　　"根本不会了，"她带着心灰意懒但是决然的神情回答，"罗马去掉了我所有的虚荣心，因为看过了那里的奇迹，我感到自己太微不足道了，也就绝望地放弃了所有愚蠢的愿望。""你为什么放弃呢？你有那么富有的精力和天赋。""那正是原因--天赋不是天才。再多的精力也不能使天赋产生天才。我要么当伟人，要么什么也不当。我不要做那 种平庸的拙劣画家。因此，我不打算再试了。""我可以问一下，你现在打算怎么办吗？""如果有机会的话，完善我其他的天赋，为社会增添光彩。"这话很有个性，听起来不乏进取心。勇敢属于青年人，艾美的抱负有着良好的基矗劳里笑了。艾美很早就怀有的希望消亡了，她不花时间悲叹，马上又确立新的目标，劳里喜欢这种精神。
　　"好！我猜想这里有弗雷德·沃恩插进来了。"艾美用心深远地保持了沉默，但是阴郁的脸上有一种感觉得到的神色，使劳里坐了起来，严肃地说："现在我来扮哥哥，向你提问，可以吗？""我不保证回答。""你舌头不回答，脸会回答的。你不是那种精通世故的女人，不能隐瞒感情，亲爱的。我听到过去年有关你和弗雷德的传闻，我私下认为，要不是他那样突然被召回家，又耽搁这么长时间，可能会发生什么事的--嘿！""那可不好，"艾美一本正经地回答，可是她的嘴唇绽出笑意，眼睛里放射出亮光。这泄露了她内心的秘密：她知道自己有魅力，并且对此感觉很不错。
　　"你还没有订婚吧，我想？"劳里突然严肃起来，看上去很像个兄长。
　　"还没有。"
　　"可是你会订婚的，要是他回来了，得体地下跪向你求婚，你会答应的，是不是？" "极有可能。""那么你喜欢弗雷德？""要是我那样做，我就是喜欢他了。""但是，不到恰当的时候你是不会那么做的，是吧？天呀！
　　多么谨小慎微！艾美，他是个好小伙子，但是我想他不是你会喜欢的那种。""他有钱，有教养，风度悦人，"艾美开口说道。她试图保持冷静与尊严，虽然这出自诚意，但还是为自己感到有点不好意思。
　　"我懂。社交王后没钱不能过活。所以你打算嫁个好人家。
　　那样开始，就世事而言，相当正确，也很妥当。但这话听起来奇怪，不像出自你妈妈的几个女儿们口中。""不过，也的确如此。"回答简短，但是说出这话时的平静与断然神态和年轻的说话者形成了奇妙的反差。劳里本能地感到了这一点，他带着一种他自己无法解释的失望感又躺了下去。他的神态、沉默以及某种内心的自我否定使艾美着急，也促使她决心赶快进行她的讲座。
　　"我希望你能让我刺激刺激你，"她尖刻地说。
　　"那么来吧，乖女孩。"
　　"真的吗，我可说到做到。"她看上去像是想即刻就这么做。
　　"那就试试吧，我答应你了，"劳里回答。他喜欢有人和他逗乐，那么长时间他都没有过这种他最喜欢的娱乐了。
　　"五分钟内你就会生气了。"
　　"我从来不和你生气。一个巴掌拍不响，你像白雪一样又冷又软。""你不知道我能做什么。如果使用得当，白雪能发光，也能刺痛人。你的不在乎神情一半是装出来的，好好激一激就可以证明出来。""来吧，那伤不了我，也许能逗乐你，就像那个大个子男人在他的小女人打他时说的那样。你把我看成一个丈夫或一块地毯吧，假如那种运动适合你，你就打到累了为止。"艾美十分恼火，她也渴盼他能摆脱那种使他产生这种变化的冷淡。她磨快了舌锋，也削尖了铅笔。她开了口："我和弗洛给你取了个新名字，叫'懒劳伦斯'，喜欢吗？"她以为这会惹恼他，可他只是支票手枕到头下，冷静地说："这不坏。谢谢，女士们。""你想知道我对你的坦率看法吗？""非常想知道。""好吧，我看不起你。"要是她带着闹气或者是调情的语调说"我恨你"，他可能会笑起来，并十分欣赏。可是，她那严肃、几近悲哀的语气使他睁开了眼，赶忙问道--"为什么，请问？""因为，你有各种机会成为善良、有用、幸福的人，却在这样犯错误、懒散、痛苦着。""言辞激烈，小姐。""你要是喜欢，我就继续说。""请吧，相当有趣。""我就知道你会这样认为的，自私的人总喜欢谈论自己。""我自私了？"问题脱口而出，语调充满惊奇，因为劳里引以为豪的一大美德便是慷慨。
　　"是的，非常自私，"艾美以沉着冷静的语调接着说，这比愤怒的语调效果强似两倍，"我指给你看，我们一起嬉戏时我研究过你，我对你一点儿都不满意。你已经到国外来了近六个月了，啥事不干，只是浪费时间和金钱，使你的朋友们失望。""人家苦学了四年后，就不能稍稍放纵一下？""看上去你不像是享受了许多乐趣。依我看，无论如何，你的感觉一点也不好。我们初次见面时，我说你有了长进，现在我收回原话，我认为你不如我离开家前的一半好。你变得令人可恶地懒散起来，你喜欢闲聊，在毫无意义的事情上浪费光阴。你满足于让一些愚蠢的人宠爱你，赞赏你，而不要聪明人爱你，尊重你。你有金钱、天赋、地位、健康，还有相貌--噢，你就像那个老虚荣鬼！这是真话，我忍不住要说出来--你有那么多美好的东西享用，却游手好闲。你不去做一个你可能做也应该做的人，你只是--"说到这儿，她住了口，表情里既有痛苦，也有同情。
　　"烤肉架上的圣徒劳伦斯，"劳里接过话头，无动于衷地结束了这句话。但是，演讲开始生效了。现在劳里的眼睛里发出了十分清醒的光亮。那半是愤怒、半是受伤的表情代替了以前的冷淡神情。
　　"我就猜到你会这样说的。你们男人说我们是天使，还说我们想把你们变成什么样都行，可是我们一旦诚挚地为你们 着想，你们便嘲笑我们、不愿听我们的，这就是你们奉承的价值，"艾美尖刻地说，然后她转过身背对脚下那个使人恼怒的受难者。
　　过了一会儿，一只手放到她的画页上，她没法画了，只听见劳里的声音滑稽地模仿着一个悔过的孩子："我会听话的，哦，我会听话的。"可是艾美没笑，她是认真的。她用铅笔敲着那只伸开的手，严肃地说："你不为这样的手感到羞愧吗？它就像妇人的手一样柔软白皙，看着就像从不干事，只是戴着最好的手套，为女人们采花。谢天谢地，你还不是个花花公子，我很高兴，这手上没有钻戒或大图章戒指，只有乔很早以前给你的那又小又旧的指环。天哪！真希望她在这帮帮我！""我也希望！"那只手消失了，像伸过来时同样突然。在对她愿望的附和声里，那种生气是一种共鸣。她怀着新的想法低头注视着他。他躺在那，帽子半遮着脸，像是用来遮阳。他的小胡子盖住了嘴。只见他的胸膛起伏着，长长地喘着气，像是叹息。
　　戴着指环的手贴在草地里，像是要藏起什么太宝贵、太温柔、连提都不能提的东西。顷刻间，各种各样的线索与琐事都在艾美的脑中成了型，有了意义，并且告诉了她姐姐从未向她吐露的心事。她回想起来，劳里从来没有主动提起过乔。她记起了刚才劳里脸上的阴影、他性情的变化，以及他手上戴着的那又小又旧的指环。那个指环并不配装饰那只漂亮的手。
　　女孩子们能很快察觉到这种迹象，并感到它们能说明问题。艾美曾推想，在劳里变化的背后，也许有着爱情方面的麻烦。现 在她确信了。泪水充盈了她敏锐的双眼。她再开口时，声音温柔动听、亲切悦人，就像她以前有意为之的那样。
　　"我知道我没有权利对你那样说话，劳里。要不是你是世上脾气最好的人，你就会非常生我的气了。可是，我们都那么喜欢你，为你骄傲，想到家里的人会对你失望我便受不了，虽然也许他们比我更理解你的变化。""我想他们会理解的，"帽子下传来了回答，声音冷冷的，但和唉声叹气同样打动人。
　　"他们本来应该告诉我的，以免我乱说话责备你。这时候我本应对你更亲切、更耐心的。我从来就不喜欢那个兰德尔小姐，现在我恨她了！"机灵的艾美说，这次她希望把事情弄确实。
　　"去他的兰德尔小姐！"劳里打掉了脸上的帽子，他的神情明白无疑地表露出他对那位年轻女士的看法。
　　"对不起，我还以为--"艾美很有外交手段地打住了话。
　　"不，别以为了。你十分清楚，除了乔我谁也不在乎，"劳里用他以前那种激动的语气说，一边将脸转了过去。
　　"我真的这样以为。可是他们从来没说起过这事，你又离开了。我猜想我弄错了。乔不愿对你表示亲切？怎么回事？我肯定她深爱着你。""她确实亲切，可是方式不对头。要是我像你认为的那样一无是处，她不爱我是她的运气。可我现在这样是她的过错，你可以这么告诉她。"说着他脸上又恢复了那种不容置疑的酸楚表情。艾美急了，她不知道用什么来安慰他。
　　"我错了。我不知道，非常抱歉我那样焦躁，可是，我希望你能承受得起，特迪，亲爱的。""别这样叫我，那是她对我的称呼！"他急速做了个手势，阻止她用乔那种半是亲切半是责备的语调说话。"等到你自己尝试过这滋味再说吧，"他低声补充道，一边成把地拔着青草。
　　"我会像男子汉似地接受它，要是不能被人爱，也要被人尊重，"艾美决然说道，对这种事一无所知的人们常有她这种决心。
　　劳里本来自以为十分出色地接受了他的失恋。他没有悲叹，没有要求同情，他将烦恼带走了，独自化解。可艾美的讲座使他对这件事有了新的认识。他第一次看清楚了，首次失败便灰心丧气，将自己封闭在郁闷、冷漠的心境中，真的是意志薄弱，而且自私。他感到仿佛突然从忧愁的梦境中挣脱出来，不可能再睡了。他很快坐了起来，慢慢地问道："你认为乔会像你那样看不起我吗？""要是她看到你这个样子，会的。她讨厌懒散的人。你为什么不去做些出色的事，使她爱上你呢？""我尽力了，可是没用。""你是指以优异的成绩毕业？这没什么了不起。为了你爷爷，你本来就应该这样做。花了那么多时间、金钱，每个人都认为你能学好，要是失败那真是耻辱了。""你爱怎么说就怎么说，我真的失败了，因为乔不肯爱我，"劳里说。他手托着头摆出一副心灰意懒的样子。
　　"不，你还没有，到最后你才能这么说。学业这件事对你有好处，它证明只要你去做，就能做出成绩。只要你着手去干一件事，不久你就又会回归到以前那个幸福愉快的自我。你会忘掉烦恼的。""那不可能。""试试看吧。你不必耸肩，想着：'她对这种事知道得还不少。'我不是自作聪明，但是我在观察着，我看到的要比你想象的多得多。尽管我无法解释原因，我对别人的经历以及自相矛盾的言行感兴趣，我记住这些，作为自己的借鉴。你愿意的话，始终爱着乔吧，但别让它毁了你。因为得不到你所要的便仍掉那么多优良天赋，这样做不道德。好了，我不再教训你了，我知道，尽管那女孩无情，但你会清醒过来，做个男子汉的。"有几分钟时间两人都没说话。劳里坐在那儿，转动着手指上的那个小指环，艾美为刚才一边说一边匆匆勾勒的草图做最后的润色。过了一会儿，她把画放在他膝上，问道："你觉得怎么样？"他看着便笑了起来，也由不得他不笑。画画得极好--草地上躺着个长长的、懒洋洋的身影，无精打采的面孔，半闭的双眼，一只手捏着支香烟，发出的小小烟圈在做梦者的头顶上缭绕着。
　　"你画得多好啊！"他说，对她的技艺由衷地感到惊奇和高兴。然后他又似笑非笑地补充道："对，那就是我。""是你现在的样子。这是以前的你。"艾美把另一张画放到了他手中这一张的旁边。
　　这一张没有刚才那一张画得那么好，但是画面有活力，有生气，弥补了许多不足。它那样生动，使人回忆起过去。年轻人看看画，脸上突然掠过一丝变化。这只是一张劳里驯马的草图：他的帽子和外衣都脱下了，活跃的身段，坚定的脸孔，威风凛凛的姿势，每一根线条都充满精力与意义。那匹漂亮的马儿刚被驯服，它立在那儿，在拽得很紧的缰绳下弓着脖颈，一只蹄子不耐烦地在地上刨着，竖着的耳朵仿佛在倾听它的征服者的声音。马被弄乱了的鬃毛，骑士飘拂的头发以及直立的姿势，这些都暗示着引人注目的突然运动，那种运动具有力量、勇气与青春的活力。这和那张"无所事事乐悠悠"画像中懒洋洋的优雅姿态形成了鲜明的对照。劳里什么也没说，但是他的目光从一张画扫到另一张。艾美看到他脸红了，他抿住嘴唇，好像在读着艾美给他的小小功课，并加以接受了。这使艾美满意。她不等他开口，便轻快地说--"你可记得那天你装扮成带顽皮小妖的牧马人，我们都在旁观看？梅格和贝恩吓坏了，乔却拍着手欢跳。我坐在篱笆上画下了你。前些天我在画夹里发现了那张草图，润了色，留着给你看呢。""非常感谢。从那时起你的画技有了很大的长进，恭贺你。
　　在这'蜜月天堂'，我得冒昧提醒你，你们旅馆晚饭时间是五点？"劳里说着站了起来，他笑着鞠了个躬，归还了画像。他看着表，仿佛在提醒她，即使是道德教育也应有结束的时候。
　　他试图恢复他先前那种懒散、冷淡的神气，但现在却是做作出来的了，因为那个刺激比他愿意承认的还要有效。艾美感觉到了他态度里的一丝冷淡。她自言自语道--"我冒犯了他。好吧，要是对他有好处，我感到高兴。要 是使他恨我，我感到遗憾。但是，我说的是实情，我一个字也不能收回。"回家的一路上，他们谈笑风生，令站在车后的小巴普蒂斯特以为先生和小姐处于愉快的情绪中。但是两个人都感到不安：友好的坦率被搅和了，阳光中有了一道阴影，而且，尽管表面上十分欢快，两个人内心都暗自不满。
　　"今天晚上我们能见到你吗，ｍｏｎeｒèｒｅ？"他们在艾美婶娘屋门边分手时，艾美问。
　　"不巧我有个约会。Ａｕｒｅｖｏｉｒ，ｍａｄｅｍｏｉｓｅｌｌｅ。"劳里弯下腰，像是要去吻她的手，这种异国的道别方式对他比对许多人更适合。他脸上的某种神情使艾美赶忙热情地说--"不，劳里，对我和平常一样吧。用那以前的好方式道别。
　　我宁愿要英国式热诚的握手，也不要法国式感情用事的问候道别。""再见，亲爱的，"劳里用艾美喜欢的语调说出这几个字，热烈地握了握她的手，几乎弄疼了她，然后离开了。
　　第二天早晨，他没有像往常那样来访，艾美接到一张便条，开始读时笑了，看完却叹了口气。
我亲爱的良师门将：
　　请代我向婶婶道别。你自己也不妨得意，因为，"懒劳伦斯"像个最好的男孩，到他爷爷那儿去了。
　　祝你冬日愉快！愿上帝赐给你幸福的玫瑰谷蜜月！我想弗雷德会从一个唤醒者那里得到好处的。告诉他这点。恭喜恭喜！
　　感谢你的，忒勒马科斯
　　"好小伙子！他走了我感到高兴，"艾美赞许地笑着说。可是转眼间，她环顾空空的屋子，脸拉了下来，不由叹道："是的，我是高兴，可是我会想念他的！"
  
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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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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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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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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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