×

Χρησιμοποιούμε cookies για να βελτιώσουμε τη λειτουργία του LingQ. Επισκέπτοντας τον ιστότοπο, συμφωνείς στην πολιτική για τα cookies.

image

Secret Garden, The Secret Garden (17)

The Secret Garden (17)

When you see a bit of earth you want,” with something like a smile, “take it, child, and make it come alive.”

“May I take it from anywhere—if it's not wanted?”

“Anywhere,” he answered. “There! You must go now, I am tired.” He touched the bell to call Mrs. Medlock. “Good-by. I shall be away all summer.”

Mrs. Medlock came so quickly that Mary thought she must have been waiting in the corridor.

“Mrs. Medlock,” Mr. Craven said to her, “now I have seen the child I understand what Mrs. Sowerby meant. She must be less delicate before she begins lessons. Give her simple, healthy food. Let her run wild in the garden. Don't look after her too much. She needs liberty and fresh air and romping about. Mrs. Sowerby is to come and see her now and then and she may sometimes go to the cottage.”

Mrs. Medlock looked pleased. She was relieved to hear that she need not “look after” Mary too much. She had felt her a tiresome charge and had indeed seen as little of her as she dared. In addition to this she was fond of Martha's mother.

“Thank you, sir,” she said. “Susan Sowerby and me went to school together and she's as sensible and good-hearted a woman as you'd find in a day's walk. I never had any children myself and she's had twelve, and there never was healthier or better ones. Miss Mary can get no harm from them. I'd always take Susan Sowerby's advice about children myself. She's what you might call healthy-minded—if you understand me.”

“I understand,” Mr. Craven answered. “Take Miss Mary away now and send Pitcher to me.”

When Mrs. Medlock left her at the end of her own corridor Mary flew back to her room. She found Martha waiting there. Martha had, in fact, hurried back after she had removed the dinner service.

“I can have my garden!” cried Mary. “I may have it where I like! I am not going to have a governess for a long time! Your mother is coming to see me and I may go to your cottage! He says a little girl like me could not do any harm and I may do what I like—anywhere!”

“Eh!” said Martha delightedly, “that was nice of him wasn't it?”

“Martha,” said Mary solemnly, “he is really a nice man, only his face is so miserable and his forehead is all drawn together.”

She ran as quickly as she could to the garden. She had been away so much longer than she had thought she should and she knew Dickon would have to set out early on his five-mile walk. When she slipped through the door under the ivy, she saw he was not working where she had left him. The gardening tools were laid together under a tree. She ran to them, looking all round the place, but there was no Dickon to be seen. He had gone away and the secret garden was empty—except for the robin who had just flown across the wall and sat on a standard rose-bush watching her.

“He's gone,” she said woefully. “Oh! was he—was he—was he only a wood fairy?”

Something white fastened to the standard rose-bush caught her eye. It was a piece of paper, in fact, it was a piece of the letter she had printed for Martha to send to Dickon. It was fastened on the bush with a long thorn, and in a minute she knew Dickon had left it there. There were some roughly printed letters on it and a sort of picture. At first she could not tell what it was. Then she saw it was meant for a nest with a bird sitting on it. Underneath were the printed letters and they said:

“I will cum bak.”

CHAPTER XIII

“I AM COLIN”

Mary took the picture back to the house when she went to her supper and she showed it to Martha.

“Eh!” said Martha with great pride. “I never knew our Dickon was as clever as that. That there's a picture of a missel thrush on her nest, as large as life an' twice as natural.”

Then Mary knew Dickon had meant the picture to be a message. He had meant that she might be sure he would keep her secret. Her garden was her nest and she was like a missel thrush. Oh, how she did like that queer, common boy!

She hoped he would come back the very next day and she fell asleep looking forward to the morning.

But you never know what the weather will do in Yorkshire, particularly in the springtime. She was awakened in the night by the sound of rain beating with heavy drops against her window. It was pouring down in torrents and the wind was “wuthering” round the corners and in the chimneys of the huge old house. Mary sat up in bed and felt miserable and angry.

“The rain is as contrary as I ever was,” she said. “It came because it knew I did not want it.”

She threw herself back on her pillow and buried her face. She did not cry, but she lay and hated the sound of the heavily beating rain, she hated the wind and its “wuthering.” She could not go to sleep again. The mournful sound kept her awake because she felt mournful herself. If she had felt happy it would probably have lulled her to sleep. How it “wuthered” and how the big raindrops poured down and beat against the pane!

“It sounds just like a person lost on the moor and wandering on and on crying,” she said.

She had been lying awake turning from side to side for about an hour, when suddenly something made her sit up in bed and turn her head toward the door listening. She listened and she listened.

“It isn't the wind now,” she said in a loud whisper. “That isn't the wind. It is different. It is that crying I heard before.”

The door of her room was ajar and the sound came down the corridor, a far-off faint sound of fretful crying. She listened for a few minutes and each minute she became more and more sure. She felt as if she must find out what it was. It seemed even stranger than the secret garden and the buried key. Perhaps the fact that she was in a rebellious mood made her bold. She put her foot out of bed and stood on the floor.

“I am going to find out what it is,” she said. “Everybody is in bed and I don't care about Mrs. Medlock—I don't care!”

There was a candle by her bedside and she took it up and went softly out of the room. The corridor looked very long and dark, but she was too excited to mind that. She thought she remembered the corners she must turn to find the short corridor with the door covered with tapestry—the one Mrs. Medlock had come through the day she lost herself. The sound had come up that passage. So she went on with her dim light, almost feeling her way, her heart beating so loud that she fancied she could hear it. The far-off faint crying went on and led her. Sometimes it stopped for a moment or so and then began again. Was this the right corner to turn? She stopped and thought. Yes it was. Down this passage and then to the left, and then up two broad steps, and then to the right again. Yes, there was the tapestry door.

She pushed it open very gently and closed it behind her, and she stood in the corridor and could hear the crying quite plainly, though it was not loud. It was on the other side of the wall at her left and a few yards farther on there was a door. She could see a glimmer of light coming from beneath it. The Someone was crying in that room, and it was quite a young Someone.

So she walked to the door and pushed it open, and there she was standing in the room!

It was a big room with ancient, handsome furniture in it. There was a low fire glowing faintly on the hearth and a night light burning by the side of a carved four-posted bed hung with brocade, and on the bed was lying a boy, crying fretfully.

Mary wondered if she was in a real place or if she had fallen asleep again and was dreaming without knowing it.

The boy had a sharp, delicate face the color of ivory and he seemed to have eyes too big for it. He had also a lot of hair which tumbled over his forehead in heavy locks and made his thin face seem smaller. He looked like a boy who had been ill, but he was crying more as if he were tired and cross than as if he were in pain.

Mary stood near the door with her candle in her hand, holding her breath. Then she crept across the room, and, as she drew nearer, the light attracted the boy's attention and he turned his head on his pillow and stared at her, his gray eyes opening so wide that they seemed immense.

“Who are you?” he said at last in a half-frightened whisper. “Are you a ghost?”

“No, I am not,” Mary answered, her own whisper sounding half frightened. “Are you one?”

He stared and stared and stared. Mary could not help noticing what strange eyes he had. They were agate gray and they looked too big for his face because they had black lashes all round them.

“No,” he replied after waiting a moment or so. “I am Colin.”

“Who is Colin?” she faltered.

“I am Colin Craven. Who are you?”

“I am Mary Lennox. Mr. Craven is my uncle.”

“He is my father,” said the boy.

“Your father!” gasped Mary. “No one ever told me he had a boy! Why didn't they?”

“Come here,” he said, still keeping his strange eyes fixed on her with an anxious expression.

She came close to the bed and he put out his hand and touched her.

“You are real, aren't you?” he said. “I have such real dreams very often. You might be one of them.”

Mary had slipped on a woolen wrapper before she left her room and she put a piece of it between his fingers.

“Rub that and see how thick and warm it is,” she said. “I will pinch you a little if you like, to show you how real I am. For a minute I thought you might be a dream too.”

“Where did you come from?” he asked.

“From my own room. The wind wuthered so I couldn't go to sleep and I heard someone crying and wanted to find out who it was. What were you crying for?”

“Because I couldn't go to sleep either and my head ached. Tell me your name again.”

“Mary Lennox. Did no one ever tell you I had come to live here?”

He was still fingering the fold of her wrapper, but he began to look a little more as if he believed in her reality.

“No,” he answered. “They daren't.”

“Why?” asked Mary.

“Because I should have been afraid you would see me. I won't let people see me and talk me over.”

“Why?” Mary asked again, feeling more mystified every moment.

“Because I am like this always, ill and having to lie down. My father won't let people talk me over either. The servants are not allowed to speak about me. If I live I may be a hunchback, but I shan't live. My father hates to think I may be like him.”

“Oh, what a queer house this is!” Mary said. “What a queer house! Everything is a kind of secret.

Learn languages from TV shows, movies, news, articles and more! Try LingQ for FREE

The Secret Garden (17) El jardín secreto (17) 秘密の花園 (17) 비밀의 정원 (17) O Jardim Secreto (17) Тайный сад (17) 秘密花园 (17) 秘密花園 (17)

When you see a bit of earth you want,” with something like a smile, “take it, child, and make it come alive.” Když uvidíš kousek země, který chceš,“ s úsměvem, „vezmi si to, dítě, a oživ to.“

“May I take it from anywhere—if it's not wanted?” "Mohu si to odněkud vzít - pokud to nechci?"

“Anywhere,” he answered. "Kdekoliv," odpověděl. “There! "Tam! You must go now, I am tired.” He touched the bell to call Mrs. Medlock. Už musíš jít, jsem unavený." Dotkl se zvonku, aby zavolal paní Medlockovou. “Good-by. "Sbohem." I shall be away all summer.” Budu pryč celé léto."

Mrs. Medlock came so quickly that Mary thought she must have been waiting in the corridor. Paní Medlocková přišla tak rychle, že si Mary myslela, že musela čekat na chodbě.

“Mrs. "Paní. Medlock,” Mr. Craven said to her, “now I have seen the child I understand what Mrs. Sowerby meant. Medlocku,“ řekl jí pan Craven, „teď jsem viděl to dítě, kterému rozumím, co paní Sowerbyová myslela. She must be less delicate before she begins lessons. Než začne lekce, musí být méně choulostivá. Give her simple, healthy food. Dejte jí jednoduché, zdravé jídlo. Let her run wild in the garden. Nechte ji volně běhat na zahradě. Don't look after her too much. Moc se o ni nestarej. She needs liberty and fresh air and romping about. Potřebuje volnost, čerstvý vzduch a dovádění. Mrs. Sowerby is to come and see her now and then and she may sometimes go to the cottage.” Paní Sowerbyová se na ni má občas přijet podívat a někdy může jít do chaty.“

Mrs. Medlock looked pleased. Paní Medlocková vypadala spokojeně. She was relieved to hear that she need not “look after” Mary too much. Ulevilo se jí, když slyšela, že se o Mary nemusí příliš „starat“. She had felt her a tiresome charge and had indeed seen as little of her as she dared. Cítila její únavný náboj a skutečně z ní viděla tak málo, jak se odvážila. Elle avait considéré sa charge comme fatigante et avait en effet vu aussi peu d'elle qu'elle osait. In addition to this she was fond of Martha's mother. Kromě toho měla ráda Marthinu matku. En plus de cela, elle était attachée à la mère de Martha.

“Thank you, sir,” she said. "Děkuji, pane," řekla. « Merci, monsieur », dit-elle. “Susan Sowerby and me went to school together and she's as sensible and good-hearted a woman as you'd find in a day's walk. "Susan Sowerby a já jsme spolu chodili do školy a ona je tak rozumná a dobrosrdečná žena, jakou byste našli na jednodenní procházce." « Susan Sowerby et moi sommes allées à l'école ensemble et elle est une femme aussi sensée et bienveillante qu'on peut en trouver en une journée de marche. » I never had any children myself and she's had twelve, and there never was healthier or better ones. |||||||she has|||||||||| « Je n'ai jamais eu d'enfants moi-même et elle en a eu douze, et il n'y a jamais eu d'enfants plus sains ou mieux. » Miss Mary can get no harm from them. Slečna Mary jim nemůže ublížit. « Miss Mary ne peut pas tirer de mal d'eux. » I'd always take Susan Sowerby's advice about children myself. Sám jsem vždy bral rady Susan Sowerby o dětech. She's what you might call healthy-minded—if you understand me.” Je to, co byste mohli nazvat zdravě smýšlející – pokud mi rozumíte.“ Elle est ce que l'on pourrait appeler d'esprit sain—si vous me comprenez.

“I understand,” Mr. Craven answered. « Je comprends », répondit M. Craven. “Take Miss Mary away now and send Pitcher to me.” "Okamžitě odveďte slečnu Mary pryč a pošlete ke mně Pitcher." « Emmenez Mlle Mary maintenant et envoyez Pitcher à moi. »

When Mrs. Medlock left her at the end of her own corridor Mary flew back to her room. Když ji paní Medlocková opustila na konci vlastní chodby, Mary odletěla zpět do svého pokoje. She found Martha waiting there. Našla tam Marthu čekat. Martha had, in fact, hurried back after she had removed the dinner service. Martha ve skutečnosti spěchala zpátky poté, co odstranila večeři. Martha était, en fait, rentrée précipitamment après avoir enlevé le service de dîner.

“I can have my garden!” cried Mary. "Můžu mít svou zahradu!" vykřikla Mary. « Je peux avoir mon jardin ! » s'écria Mary. “I may have it where I like! ||||in the location|| „Mohu to mít, kde se mi líbí! « Je peux l'avoir où je veux ! » I am not going to have a governess for a long time! Už dlouho nebudu mít vychovatelku! Your mother is coming to see me and I may go to your cottage! Přijde za mnou tvoje matka a já můžu jít do tvé chalupy! He says a little girl like me could not do any harm and I may do what I like—anywhere!” Říká, že malá holka jako já nemůže ublížit a já si můžu dělat, co se mi líbí – kdekoli!

“Eh!” said Martha delightedly, “that was nice of him wasn't it?” "Eh!" řekla Martha potěšeně, "to bylo od něj hezké, ne?"

“Martha,” said Mary solemnly, “he is really a nice man, only his face is so miserable and his forehead is all drawn together.” "Marto," řekla Mary slavnostně, "je to opravdu milý muž, jen jeho tvář je tak nešťastná a čelo má stažené." « Martha, » dit Mary solennellement, « c'est vraiment un homme gentil, seulement son visage est si misérable et son front est tout plissé. »

She ran as quickly as she could to the garden. Co nejrychleji utekla do zahrady. Elle courut aussi vite qu'elle le pouvait vers le jardin. She had been away so much longer than she had thought she should and she knew Dickon would have to set out early on his five-mile walk. Byla pryč mnohem déle, než si myslela, že by měla, a věděla, že Dickon bude muset vyrazit brzy na svou pětimílovou procházku. Elle avait été absente beaucoup plus longtemps qu'elle ne l'avait pensé et elle savait que Dickon devrait partir tôt pour sa marche de cinq miles. When she slipped through the door under the ivy, she saw he was not working where she had left him. Když proklouzla dveřmi pod břečťanem, viděla, že nepracuje tam, kde ho nechala. Lorsqu'elle glissa à travers la porte sous le lierre, elle vit qu'il n'était pas à l'endroit où elle l'avait laissé. The gardening tools were laid together under a tree. Zahradnické nářadí bylo položeno společně pod strom. Les outils de jardinage étaient regroupés sous un arbre. She ran to them, looking all round the place, but there was no Dickon to be seen. Rozběhla se k nim a rozhlédla se po celém místě, ale žádného Dickona nebylo vidět. Elle courut vers eux, regardant tout autour, mais il n'y avait aucun Dickon en vue. He had gone away and the secret garden was empty—except for the robin who had just flown across the wall and sat on a standard rose-bush watching her. Odešel a tajná zahrada byla prázdná – kromě červenky, která právě přeletěla přes zeď a seděla na standardním růžovém keři a sledovala ji. Il était parti et le jardin secret était vide, sauf pour le rouge-gorge qui venait de voler au-dessus du mur et s'était posé sur un rosier standard en la regardant.

“He's gone,” she said woefully. ||||with sadness "Je pryč," řekla žalostně. « Il est parti, » dit-elle avec tristesse. “Oh! « Oh ! » was he—was he—was he only a wood fairy?” byl - byl - byl jen dřevěnou vílou?" était-il—était-il—était-il seulement une fée des bois ?

Something white fastened to the standard rose-bush caught her eye. Její pohled upoutalo něco bílého připevněného ke standardnímu růžovému keři. Quelque chose de blanc attaché à l'arbuste de roses a attiré son attention. It was a piece of paper, in fact, it was a piece of the letter she had printed for Martha to send to Dickon. Byl to kus papíru, ve skutečnosti to byl kus dopisu, který vytiskla Martě, aby ho poslala Dickonovi. C'était un morceau de papier, en fait, c'était un morceau de la lettre qu'elle avait imprimée pour que Martha l'envoie à Dickon. It was fastened on the bush with a long thorn, and in a minute she knew Dickon had left it there. Byl připevněn ke keři dlouhým trnem a za minutu věděla, že ho tam Dickon nechal. There were some roughly printed letters on it and a sort of picture. Byla na ní nějaká hrubě vytištěná písmena a jakýsi obrázek. At first she could not tell what it was. Zpočátku nemohla říct, co to je. Then she saw it was meant for a nest with a bird sitting on it. Pak viděla, že to bylo určeno pro hnízdo, na kterém seděl pták. Underneath were the printed letters and they said: Pod nimi byly vytištěné dopisy a řekli:

“I will cum bak.” "Budu péct."

CHAPTER XIII

“I AM COLIN”

Mary took the picture back to the house when she went to her supper and she showed it to Martha. Když Mary šla na večeři, vzala obrázek zpět do domu a ukázala ho Martě.

“Eh!” said Martha with great pride. "Eh!" řekla Marta s velkou hrdostí. “I never knew our Dickon was as clever as that. "Nikdy jsem nevěděl, že náš Dickon je tak chytrý." That there's a picture of a missel thrush on her nest, as large as life an' twice as natural.” Že na jejím hnízdě je obrázek drozda skvrnitého, velkého jako život a dvakrát tak přirozeného.“ C'est une image d'un merle à son nid, aussi grande que nature et deux fois plus naturelle.”

Then Mary knew Dickon had meant the picture to be a message. Pak Mary věděla, že Dickon myslel ten obrázek jako zprávu. Alors Mary sut que Dickon avait voulu que l'image soit un message. He had meant that she might be sure he would keep her secret. Myslel tím, že si může být jistá, že uchová její tajemství. Il avait voulu qu'elle soit sûre qu'il garderait son secret. Her garden was her nest and she was like a missel thrush. Její zahrada byla jejím hnízdem a byla jako drozd. Oh, how she did like that queer, common boy! Ach, jak se jí líbil ten divný, obyčejný kluk!

She hoped he would come back the very next day and she fell asleep looking forward to the morning. Doufala, že se vrátí hned druhý den, a usnula natěšená na ráno.

But you never know what the weather will do in Yorkshire, particularly in the springtime. Ale nikdy nevíte, jaké počasí v Yorkshiru udělá, zvláště na jaře. She was awakened in the night by the sound of rain beating with heavy drops against her window. V noci ji probudil zvuk deště bijícího s těžkými kapkami do jejího okna. It was pouring down in torrents and the wind was “wuthering” round the corners and in the chimneys of the huge old house. ||||||||||hurlement|||||||||||| Lilo se v proudech a za rohy a v komínech obrovského starého domu „bušil“ vítr. Mary sat up in bed and felt miserable and angry. Mary se posadila na posteli a cítila se mizerně a naštvaně.

“The rain is as contrary as I ever was,” she said. "Déšť je opačný jako já," řekla. “It came because it knew I did not want it.” "Přišlo to, protože vědělo, že to nechci."

She threw herself back on her pillow and buried her face. Hodila se zpátky na polštář a zabořila obličej. She did not cry, but she lay and hated the sound of the heavily beating rain, she hated the wind and its “wuthering.” She could not go to sleep again. Neplakala, ale ležela a nenáviděla zvuk silně bijícího deště, nenáviděla vítr a jeho „bouření“. Nemohla znovu usnout. The mournful sound kept her awake because she felt mournful herself. Truchlivý zvuk jí nedal spát, protože ona sama se cítila truchlivě. Le son mournful la tenait éveillée car elle se sentait elle-même mournful. If she had felt happy it would probably have lulled her to sleep. Kdyby se cítila šťastná, pravděpodobně by ji to ukolébalo ke spánku. Si elle avait ressenti de la joie, cela l'aurait probablement endormie. How it “wuthered” and how the big raindrops poured down and beat against the pane! ||siffla|||||||||||| Jak „fučelo“ a jak velké dešťové kapky stékaly a bily do okenní tabule! Comme cela "soulève" et comme les grosses gouttes de pluie tombaient et frappaient le carreau !

“It sounds just like a person lost on the moor and wandering on and on crying,” she said. "Zní to, jako by se člověk ztratil na vřesovišti a bloudil dál a dál a plakal," řekla.

She had been lying awake turning from side to side for about an hour, when suddenly something made her sit up in bed and turn her head toward the door listening. Ležela vzhůru a otáčela se ze strany na stranu asi hodinu, když ji najednou něco přimělo posadit se na posteli a otočit hlavu ke dveřím a poslouchat. She listened and she listened. Poslouchala a poslouchala.

“It isn't the wind now,” she said in a loud whisper. "Teď to není vítr," řekla hlasitým šeptem. “That isn't the wind. "To není vítr." It is different. Je to jiné. It is that crying I heard before.” To je ten pláč, který jsem předtím slyšel."

The door of her room was ajar and the sound came down the corridor, a far-off faint sound of fretful crying. |||||||||||||||distant|||||| Dveře jejího pokoje byly pootevřené a zvuk se nesl chodbou, vzdálený slabý zvuk zoufalého pláče. La porte de sa chambre était entrouverte et le son descendait le couloir, un lointain et faible bruit de pleurs douloureux. She listened for a few minutes and each minute she became more and more sure. Poslouchala několik minut a každou minutou si byla stále jistější. Elle écouta pendant quelques minutes et chaque minute elle était de plus en plus sûre. She felt as if she must find out what it was. Měla pocit, že musí zjistit, co to je. Elle avait l'impression qu'elle devait découvrir ce que c'était. It seemed even stranger than the secret garden and the buried key. Zdálo se to ještě podivnější než tajná zahrada a zakopaný klíč. Perhaps the fact that she was in a rebellious mood made her bold. Možná, že skutečnost, že byla v rebelské náladě, ji učinila odvážnou. She put her foot out of bed and stood on the floor. Zvedla nohu z postele a postavila se na podlahu.

“I am going to find out what it is,” she said. "Zjistím, co to je," řekla. “Everybody is in bed and I don't care about Mrs. Medlock—I don't care!” "Všichni jsou v posteli a mě nezajímá paní Medlocková - je mi to jedno!"

There was a candle by her bedside and she took it up and went softly out of the room. U její postele byla svíčka, vzala ji a tiše vyšla z pokoje. The corridor looked very long and dark, but she was too excited to mind that. Chodba vypadala velmi dlouhá a tmavá, ale ona byla příliš vzrušená, než aby jí to vadilo. She thought she remembered the corners she must turn to find the short corridor with the door covered with tapestry—the one Mrs. Medlock had come through the day she lost herself. Myslela si, že si pamatuje rohy, kterými se musí otočit, aby našla krátkou chodbu s dveřmi pokrytými gobelínem – tou, kterou prošla paní Medlocková toho dne, kdy se ztratila. Elle pensait se souvenir des coins qu'elle devait tourner pour trouver le court couloir avec la porte couverte de tapisserie—celle par laquelle Mme Medlock était entrée le jour où elle s'était perdue. The sound had come up that passage. V té pasáži se objevil zvuk. Le bruit était venu de ce passage. So she went on with her dim light, almost feeling her way, her heart beating so loud that she fancied she could hear it. A tak pokračovala se svým tlumeným světlem, skoro se cítila, jak se jí blíží, její srdce tlouklo tak hlasitě, že se jí zdálo, že to slyší. Alors elle continua avec sa lumière faible, presque en tâtonnant, son cœur battant si fort qu'elle s'imaginait pouvoir l'entendre. The far-off faint crying went on and led her. Vzdálený slabý pláč pokračoval a vedl ji. Sometimes it stopped for a moment or so and then began again. Někdy se to na chvíli zastavilo a pak to začalo znovu. Was this the right corner to turn? Byl tohle ten správný roh, kam zahnout? She stopped and thought. Zastavila se a přemýšlela. Yes it was. Ano, to bylo. Down this passage and then to the left, and then up two broad steps, and then to the right again. Dolů tímto průchodem a pak doleva a pak nahoru po dvou širokých schodech a pak zase doprava. Au bout de ce couloir et ensuite à gauche, puis monter deux larges marches, et ensuite à droite à nouveau. Yes, there was the tapestry door. Ano, tam byly gobelínové dveře. Oui, il y avait la porte en tapisserie.

She pushed it open very gently and closed it behind her, and she stood in the corridor and could hear the crying quite plainly, though it was not loud. Velmi jemně jej otevřela a zavřela za sebou. Stála na chodbě a zcela jasně slyšela pláč, i když nebyl hlasitý. Elle l'a ouverte très doucement et l'a refermée derrière elle, et elle se tenait dans le couloir et pouvait entendre les pleurs assez distinctement, bien que ce ne fût pas fort. It was on the other side of the wall at her left and a few yards farther on there was a door. Bylo to na druhé straně zdi po její levici a o pár yardů dál byly dveře. C'était de l'autre côté du mur à sa gauche et à quelques pas plus loin, il y avait une porte. She could see a glimmer of light coming from beneath it. Viděla záblesk světla vycházející zpod něj. Elle pouvait voir une lueur de lumière venant de dessous. The Someone was crying in that room, and it was quite a young Someone. Ten Někdo v té místnosti plakal a byl to docela mladý Někdo. Quelqu'un pleurait dans cette pièce, et c'était un assez jeune quelqu'un.

So she walked to the door and pushed it open, and there she was standing in the room! Šla tedy ke dveřím a otevřela je, a tam stála v pokoji!

It was a big room with ancient, handsome furniture in it. Byla to velká místnost se starým, hezkým nábytkem. There was a low fire glowing faintly on the hearth and a night light burning by the side of a carved four-posted bed hung with brocade, and on the bed was lying a boy, crying fretfully. Na krbu slabě žhnul nízký oheň a vedle vyřezávané postele se čtyřmi sloupky ověšené brokátem svítilo noční světlo a na posteli ležel chlapec a zoufale plakal.

Mary wondered if she was in a real place or if she had fallen asleep again and was dreaming without knowing it. Mary přemýšlela, jestli je na skutečném místě, nebo jestli znovu usnula a snila, aniž by o tom věděla.

The boy had a sharp, delicate face the color of ivory and he seemed to have eyes too big for it. Chlapec měl ostrý, jemný obličej barvy slonoviny a zdálo se, že na to má příliš velké oči. He had also a lot of hair which tumbled over his forehead in heavy locks and made his thin face seem smaller. Měl také spoustu vlasů, které mu padaly přes čelo v těžkých pramenech a jeho hubený obličej vypadal menší. He looked like a boy who had been ill, but he was crying more as if he were tired and cross than as if he were in pain. Vypadal jako chlapec, který byl nemocný, ale plakal spíš, jako by byl unavený a podrážděný, než jako by ho něco bolelo.

Mary stood near the door with her candle in her hand, holding her breath. Mary stála u dveří se svíčkou v ruce a zadržovala dech. Then she crept across the room, and, as she drew nearer, the light attracted the boy's attention and he turned his head on his pillow and stared at her, his gray eyes opening so wide that they seemed immense. Pak se proplížila přes místnost, a když se přiblížila, světlo přitáhlo chlapcovu pozornost a on otočil hlavu na polštář a zíral na ni, jeho šedé oči se otevřely tak široce, že se zdály obrovské. Puis elle se glissa à travers la pièce, et, à mesure qu'elle se rapprochait, la lumière attira l'attention du garçon et il tourna la tête sur son oreiller et la fixa, ses yeux gris s'ouvrant si grands qu'ils semblaient immenses.

“Who are you?” he said at last in a half-frightened whisper. "Kdo jsi?" řekl nakonec napůl vyděšeným šeptem. « Qui es-tu ? » dit-il enfin dans un murmure à moitié effrayé. “Are you a ghost?” "Jsi duch?" « Es-tu un fantôme ? »

“No, I am not,” Mary answered, her own whisper sounding half frightened. "Ne, nejsem," odpověděla Mary a její vlastní šepot zněl napůl vyděšeně. “Are you one?” "Jsi jeden?"

He stared and stared and stared. Zíral a zíral a zíral. Mary could not help noticing what strange eyes he had. Mary si nemohla nevšimnout, jaké zvláštní oči měl. They were agate gray and they looked too big for his face because they had black lashes all round them. Byly achátově šedé a vypadaly příliš velké pro jeho obličej, protože kolem nich byly černé řasy.

“No,” he replied after waiting a moment or so. "Ne," odpověděl po chvíli čekání. “I am Colin.” "Jsem Colin."

“Who is Colin?” she faltered. "Kdo je Colin?" zaváhala.

“I am Colin Craven. "Jsem Colin Craven." Who are you?” Kdo jsi?"

“I am Mary Lennox. „Jsem Mary Lennoxová. Mr. Craven is my uncle.” Pan Craven je můj strýc.“

“He is my father,” said the boy. "Je to můj otec," řekl chlapec.

“Your father!” gasped Mary. "Tvůj otec!" zalapala po dechu Mary. “No one ever told me he had a boy! „Nikdo mi nikdy neřekl, že má kluka! Why didn't they?” Proč ne?“ Pourquoi ne l'ont-ils pas fait ?

“Come here,” he said, still keeping his strange eyes fixed on her with an anxious expression. "Pojď sem," řekl a stále na ni upíral své podivné oči s úzkostným výrazem. « Viens ici, » dit-il, gardant toujours ses yeux étranges fixés sur elle avec une expression anxieuse.

She came close to the bed and he put out his hand and touched her. Přistoupila k posteli a on natáhl ruku a dotkl se jí. Elle s'est approchée du lit et il a tendu la main et l'a touchée.

“You are real, aren't you?” he said. "Jsi skutečný, že?" řekl. “I have such real dreams very often. „Takové skutečné sny mívám velmi často. You might be one of them.” Možná jsi jedním z nich."

Mary had slipped on a woolen wrapper before she left her room and she put a piece of it between his fingers. |||||en laine|||||||||||||||| Mary si navlékla vlněný obal, než odešla z pokoje, a vložila mu kousek mezi prsty. Mary avait enfilé un peignoir en laine avant de quitter sa chambre et elle en mit un morceau entre ses doigts.

“Rub that and see how thick and warm it is,” she said. "Otřete to a uvidíte, jak je to husté a teplé," řekla. « Frotte ça et vois comme c'est épais et chaud », dit-elle. “I will pinch you a little if you like, to show you how real I am. "Trošku tě štípu, jestli chceš, abych ti ukázal, jak jsem skutečný." « Je vais te pincer un peu si tu veux, pour te montrer à quel point je suis réelle. » For a minute I thought you might be a dream too.” Na chvíli jsem si myslel, že bys mohl být také sen."

“Where did you come from?” he asked. "Odkud jsi přišel?" zeptal se.

“From my own room. „Z mého vlastního pokoje. The wind wuthered so I couldn't go to sleep and I heard someone crying and wanted to find out who it was. Zfoukal vítr, takže jsem nemohl usnout a slyšel jsem někoho plakat a chtěl jsem zjistit, kdo to je. What were you crying for?” Pro co jsi plakal?"

“Because I couldn't go to sleep either and my head ached. "Protože jsem taky nemohl usnout a bolela mě hlava." Tell me your name again.” Řekni mi znovu své jméno."

“Mary Lennox. „Mary Lennoxová. Did no one ever tell you I had come to live here?” Nikdo ti nikdy neřekl, že jsem sem přišel bydlet?"

He was still fingering the fold of her wrapper, but he began to look a little more as if he believed in her reality. Stále se dotýkal záhybu jejího obalu, ale začal vypadat trochu víc, jako by věřil v její realitu. Il caressait encore le pli de son peignoir, mais il commençait à avoir l'air un peu plus convaincu de sa réalité.

“No,” he answered. "Ne," odpověděl. « Non, » répondit-il. “They daren't.” "Neodvažují se." « Ils n'osent pas. »

“Why?” asked Mary. "Proč?" zeptala se Mary.

“Because I should have been afraid you would see me. "Protože jsem se měl bát, že mě uvidíš." I won't let people see me and talk me over.” Nedovolím, aby mě lidé viděli a mluvili se mnou."

“Why?” Mary asked again, feeling more mystified every moment. "Proč?" zeptala se Mary znovu a každou chvíli se cítila zmatenější.

“Because I am like this always, ill and having to lie down. "Protože jsem takhle pořád, nemocný a musím si lehnout." My father won't let people talk me over either. Můj otec také nedovolí, aby mě lidé přemlouvali. The servants are not allowed to speak about me. Sluhům není dovoleno o mně mluvit. If I live I may be a hunchback, but I shan't live. |||||||hunchbacked person|||| Pokud budu žít, možná budu hrbatý, ale nebudu žít. Si je vis, je pourrais être un bossu, mais je ne vivrai pas. My father hates to think I may be like him.” Můj otec nesnáší pomyšlení, že bych mohl být jako on." Mon père déteste penser que je pourrais lui ressembler.

“Oh, what a queer house this is!” Mary said. "Ach, jaký je to divný dům!" řekla Mary. « Oh, quelle maison étrange c'est ! » dit Mary. “What a queer house! „Jaký podivný dům! Everything is a kind of secret. Všechno je jakýmsi tajemstvím.