Маленькие женщины / Little Women. Уровень 3. Луиза Мэй Олкотт
you?”
“Not a bit. I only came here because I don't know many people and felt rather strange at first, you know.”
“So did I. Don't go away, please, unless you'd rather.”
The boy sat down again. Trying to be polite and easy, Jo said, “I think I've had the pleasure of seeing you before. You live near us, don't you?”
“Next door.” And he looked up and laughed.
That put Jo at her ease and she laughed too, as she said, “We did have such a good time over your nice Christmas present.”
“Grandpa sent it.”
“But you put it into his head, didn't you, now?”
“How is your cat, Miss March?” asked the boy.
“Nicely, thank you, Mr. Laurence. But I am not Miss March, I'm only Jo,” returned the young lady.
“I'm not Mr. Laurence, I'm only Laurie.”
“Laurie Laurence, what an odd name.”
“My first name is Theodore, but I don't like it, for the fellows called me Dora, so I made them say Laurie instead.”
“I hate my name, too, so sentimental! I wish everyone would say Jo instead of Josephine. How did you make the boys stop calling you Dora?”
“I thrashed ‘em.”
“I can't thrash Aunt March, so I suppose I shall have to bear it.” And Jo resigned herself with a sigh.
“Don't you like to dance, Miss Jo?” asked Laurie, looking as if he thought the name suited her.
“I like it well enough if there is plenty of room, and everyone is lively. In a place like this I'm sure to upset something. Don't you dance?”
“Sometimes. You see I've been abroad a good many years, and haven't been into company enough yet to know how you do things here.”
“Abroad!” cried Jo. “Oh, tell me about it!”
Laurie told her how he had been at school in Vevay, where the boys never wore hats and had a fleet of boats on the lake, and for holiday fun went on walking trips about Switzerland with their teachers.
“Don't I wish I'd been there!” cried Jo. “Did you go to Paris?
“We spent last winter there.”
“Can you talk French?”
“We were not allowed to speak anything else at Vevay.”
“Do say some! I can read it, but can't pronounce.”
“Quel nom a cette jeune demoiselle en les pantoufles jolis?”
“How nicely you do it! Let me see… you said, ‘Who is the young lady in the pretty slippers', didn't you?”
“Oui, mademoiselle.”
“It's my sister Margaret, and you knew it was! Do you think she is pretty?”
“Yes, she makes me think of the German girls, she looks so fresh and quiet, and dances like a lady.”
“Curly black hair, brown skin, big black eyes, handsome nose, fine teeth, small hands and feet, taller than I am, very polite, for a boy, and altogether jolly. Wonder how old he is?”
It was on the tip of Jo's tongue to ask, but she checked herself[6] in time and, with unusual tact, tried to find out in a round-about way.
“I suppose you are going to college soon?”
Laurie smiled. “I won't go before seventeen, anyway.”
“Aren't you but fifteen?” asked Jo, looking at the tall lad, whom she had imagined seventeen already.
“Sixteen, next month.”
“How I wish I was going to college! You don't look as if you liked it.”
“I hate it! And I don't like the way fellows do either, in this country.”
“What do you like?”
“To live in Italy, and to enjoy myself in my own way.”
Jo wanted very much to ask what his own way was, but changed the subject by saying, “That's a splendid polka! Why don't you go and try it?”
“If you will come too,” he answered.
“I can't, for I told Meg I wouldn't, because…”
“Because, what?”
“You won't tell?”
“Never!”
“Well, I have a bad trick of standing before the fire, and so I burn my frocks, and I scorched this one, and though it's nicely mended, it shows, and Meg told me to keep still so no one would see it. You may laugh, if you want to. It is funny, I know.”
But Laurie didn't laugh. He only looked down a minute, and the expression of his face puzzled Jo when he said very gently, “Never mind that. I'll tell you how we can manage. There's a long hall out there, and we can dance grandly, and no one will see us. Please come.”
Jo thanked him and gladly went. The hall was empty, and they had a grand polka, for Laurie danced well. When the music stopped, they sat down on the stairs to get their breath. That's when Meg appeared in search of her sister. She beckoned, and Jo reluctantly followed her into a side room, where she found her on a sofa, holding her foot, and looking pale.
“I've sprained my ankle. That stupid high heel turned. I can hardly stand, and I don't know how I'm ever going to get home,” she said, rocking to and fro[7] in pain.
“I'm sorry. But I don't see what you can do, except get a carriage, or stay here all night,” answered Jo, softly rubbing the poor ankle as she spoke.
“I can't have a carriage without its costing ever so much. I dare say I can't get one at all, for most people come in their own, and it's a long way to the stable, and no one to send.”
“I'll ask Laurie. He will go,” said Jo.
“Mercy, no! Don't ask or tell anyone. I can't dance anymore, but as soon as supper is over, watch for Hannah and tell me the minute she comes. “
Jo was looking round for help when Laurie, who had heard what she said, came up and offered his grandfather's carriage, which had just come for him, he said.
“It's so early! You can't mean to go yet?” began Jo, looking relieved but hesitating to accept the offer.
“I always go early, I do, truly! Please let me take you home. It's all on my way, you know, and it rains, they say.”
They settled in the carriage. Laurie went on the box so Meg could keep her foot up, and the girls talked over their party. By the time Jo had finished telling Meg about her adventures, they were at home.
Chapter four
Burdens
“Oh, dear, how hard it does seem to go on,” sighed Meg the morning after the party. The holidays were over.
“I wish it was Christmas or New Year's all the time. Wouldn't it be fun?” answered Jo, yawning.
“We shouldn't enjoy ourselves half so much[8] as we do now. But it does seem so nice to have little suppers and bouquets, and go to parties.” said Meg. “Where's the use of looking nice, when no one sees me, and no one cares whether I'm pretty or not? I will grow old and ugly and sour, because I'm poor and can't enjoy my life as other girls do. It's a shame!”
She went down, wearing an injured look.
During breakfast everyone seemed rather out of sorts[9]. Jo laughed, Meg scolded, Beth implored, and Amy cried because she couldn't remember how much nine times twelve was. Mrs. March was very busy trying to
checked herself – остановила себя
to and fro – туда и обратно
half so much – хотя бы в половину
out of sorts – не в порядке