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Secret Garden, The Secret Garden (40)

The Secret Garden (40)

“I will go back to Misselthwaite,” he said. “Yes, I'll go at once.”

And he went through the garden to the villa and ordered Pitcher to prepare for his return to England.

In a few days he was in Yorkshire again, and on his long railroad journey he found himself thinking of his boy as he had never thought in all the ten years past. During those years he had only wished to forget him. Now, though he did not intend to think about him, memories of him constantly drifted into his mind. He remembered the black days when he had raved like a madman because the child was alive and the mother was dead. He had refused to see it, and when he had gone to look at it at last it had been, such a weak wretched thing that everyone had been sure it would die in a few days. But to the surprise of those who took care of it the days passed and it lived and then everyone believed it would be a deformed and crippled creature.

He had not meant to be a bad father, but he had not felt like a father at all. He had supplied doctors and nurses and luxuries, but he had shrunk from the mere thought of the boy and had buried himself in his own misery. The first time after a year's absence he returned to Misselthwaite and the small miserable looking thing languidly and indifferently lifted to his face the great gray eyes with black lashes round them, so like and yet so horribly unlike the happy eyes he had adored, he could not bear the sight of them and turned away pale as death. After that he scarcely ever saw him except when he was asleep, and all he knew of him was that he was a confirmed invalid, with a vicious, hysterical, half-insane temper. He could only be kept from furies dangerous to himself by being given his own way in every detail.

“Perhaps I have been all wrong for ten years,” he said to himself. “Ten years is a long time. It may be too late to do anything—quite too late. What have I been thinking of!”

Of course this was the wrong Magic—to begin by saying “too late.” Even Colin could have told him that. But he knew nothing of Magic—either black or white. This he had yet to learn. He wondered if Susan Sowerby had taken courage and written to him only because the motherly creature had realized that the boy was much worse—was fatally ill. If he had not been under the spell of the curious calmness which had taken possession of him he would have been more wretched than ever. But the calm had brought a sort of courage and hope with it. Instead of giving way to thoughts of the worst he actually found he was trying to believe in better things.

“Could it be possible that she sees that I may be able to do him good and control him?” he thought. “I will go and see her on my way to Misselthwaite.”

Mr. Craven looked over the collection of sturdy little bodies and round red-cheeked faces, each one grinning in its own particular way, and he awoke to the fact that they were a healthy likable lot. He smiled at their friendly grins and took a golden sovereign from his pocket and gave it to “our 'Lizabeth Ellen” who was the oldest.

“If you divide that into eight parts there will be half a crown for each of, you,” he said.

Then amid grins and chuckles and bobbing of curtsies he drove away, leaving ecstasy and nudging elbows and little jumps of joy behind.

The drive across the wonderfulness of the moor was a soothing thing. Why did it seem to give him a sense of homecoming which he had been sure he could never feel again—that sense of the beauty of land and sky and purple bloom of distance and a warming of the heart at drawing, nearer to the great old house which had held those of his blood for six hundred years? How he had driven away from it the last time, shuddering to think of its closed rooms and the boy lying in the four-posted bed with the brocaded hangings. Was it possible that perhaps he might find him changed a little for the better and that he might overcome his shrinking from him? How real that dream had been—how wonderful and clear the voice which called back to him, “In the garden—In the garden!”

“I will try to find the key,” he said. “I will try to open the door. I must—though I don't know why.”

“How is Master Colin, Medlock?” he inquired.

“Well, sir,” Mrs. Medlock answered, “he's—he's different, in a manner of speaking.”

“Worse?” he suggested.

Mrs. Medlock really was flushed.

“Well, you see, sir,” she tried to explain, “neither Dr. Craven, nor the nurse, nor me can exactly make him out.”

“Why is that?”

“To tell the truth, sir, Master Colin might be better and he might be changing for the worse. His appetite, sir, is past understanding—and his ways—”

“Has he become more—more peculiar?” her master, asked, knitting his brows anxiously.

“That's it, sir. He's growing very peculiar—when you compare him with what he used to be. He used to eat nothing and then suddenly he began to eat something enormous—and then he stopped again all at once and the meals were sent back just as they used to be. You never knew, sir, perhaps, that out of doors he never would let himself be taken. The things we've gone through to get him to go out in his chair would leave a body trembling like a leaf. He'd throw himself into such a state that Dr. Craven said he couldn't be responsible for forcing him. Well, sir, just without warning—not long after one of his worst tantrums he suddenly insisted on being taken out every day by Miss Mary and Susan Sowerby's boy Dickon that could push his chair. He took a fancy to both Miss Mary and Dickon, and Dickon brought his tame animals, and, if you'll credit it, sir, out of doors he will stay from morning until night.”

“How does he look?” was the next question.

“If he took his food natural, sir, you'd think he was putting on flesh—but we're afraid it may be a sort of bloat. He laughs sometimes in a queer way when he's alone with Miss Mary. He never used to laugh at all. Dr. Craven is coming to see you at once, if you'll allow him. He never was as puzzled in his life.”

“Where is Master Colin now?” Mr. Craven asked.

“In the garden, sir. He's always in the garden—though not a human creature is allowed to go near for fear they'll look at him.”

Mr. Craven scarcely heard her last words.

“In the garden,” he said, and after he had sent Mrs. Medlock away he stood and repeated it again and again. “In the garden!”

He had to make an effort to bring himself back to the place he was standing in and when he felt he was on earth again he turned and went out of the room. He took his way, as Mary had done, through the door in the shrubbery and among the laurels and the fountain beds. The fountain was playing now and was encircled by beds of brilliant autumn flowers. He crossed the lawn and turned into the Long Walk by the ivied walls. He did not walk quickly, but slowly, and his eyes were on the path. He felt as if he were being drawn back to the place he had so long forsaken, and he did not know why. As he drew near to it his step became still more slow. He knew where the door was even though the ivy hung thick over it—but he did not know exactly where it lay—that buried key.

So he stopped and stood still, looking about him, and almost the moment after he had paused he started and listened—asking himself if he were walking in a dream.

The ivy hung thick over the door, the key was buried under the shrubs, no human being had passed that portal for ten lonely years—and yet inside the garden there were sounds. They were the sounds of running scuffling feet seeming to chase round and round under the trees, they were strange sounds of lowered suppressed voices—exclamations and smothered joyous cries. It seemed actually like the laughter of young things, the uncontrollable laughter of children who were trying not to be heard but who in a moment or so—as their excitement mounted—would burst forth. What in heaven's name was he dreaming of—what in heaven's name did he hear? Was he losing his reason and thinking he heard things which were not for human ears? Was it that the far clear voice had meant?

And then the moment came, the uncontrollable moment when the sounds forgot to hush themselves. The feet ran faster and faster—they were nearing the garden door—there was quick strong young breathing and a wild outbreak of laughing shouts which could not be contained—and the door in the wall was flung wide open, the sheet of ivy swinging back, and a boy burst through it at full speed and, without seeing the outsider, dashed almost into his arms.

He was a tall boy and a handsome one. He was glowing with life and his running had sent splendid color leaping to his face. He threw the thick hair back from his forehead and lifted a pair of strange gray eyes—eyes full of boyish laughter and rimmed with black lashes like a fringe. It was the eyes which made Mr. Craven gasp for breath.

“Who—What? Who!” he stammered.

This was not what Colin had expected—this was not what he had planned. He had never thought of such a meeting. And yet to come dashing out—winning a race—perhaps it was even better. He drew himself up to his very tallest. Mary, who had been running with him and had dashed through the door too, believed that he managed to make himself look taller than he had ever looked before—inches taller.

“Father,” he said, “I'm Colin. You can't believe it. I scarcely can myself. I'm Colin.”

Like Mrs.

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“I will go back to Misselthwaite,” he said. "Vrátím se do Misselthwaite," řekl. “Yes, I'll go at once.” "Ano, hned půjdu."

And he went through the garden to the villa and ordered Pitcher to prepare for his return to England. A prošel zahradou do vily a nařídil Džbáči, aby se připravil na návrat do Anglie.

In a few days he was in Yorkshire again, and on his long railroad journey he found himself thinking of his boy as he had never thought in all the ten years past. Za pár dní byl znovu v Yorkshiru a na své dlouhé cestě železnicí zjistil, že myslí na svého chlapce tak, jak si to nikdy za posledních deset let nemyslel. During those years he had only wished to forget him. Během těch let si přál na něj jen zapomenout. Now, though he did not intend to think about him, memories of him constantly drifted into his mind. Teď, i když na něj neměl v úmyslu myslet, vzpomínky na něj se mu neustále vracely do mysli. He remembered the black days when he had raved like a madman because the child was alive and the mother was dead. Vzpomněl si na černé časy, kdy řádil jako blázen, protože dítě bylo naživu a matka byla mrtvá. He had refused to see it, and when he had gone to look at it at last it had been, such a weak wretched thing that everyone had been sure it would die in a few days. Odmítl to vidět, a když se na to šel konečně podívat, bylo to tak slabé ubohé, že si každý byl jistý, že za pár dní zemře. But to the surprise of those who took care of it the days passed and it lived and then everyone believed it would be a deformed and crippled creature. Ale k překvapení těch, kteří se o to starali, dny plynuly a ono to žilo a pak všichni uvěřili, že to bude znetvořené a zmrzačené stvoření.

He had not meant to be a bad father, but he had not felt like a father at all. Nechtěl být špatným otcem, ale vůbec se jím necítil. He had supplied doctors and nurses and luxuries, but he had shrunk from the mere thought of the boy and had buried himself in his own misery. Poskytoval lékařům a sestrám a přepych, ale zbavil se pouhé myšlenky na chlapce a pohřbil se ve své vlastní bídě. The first time after a year's absence he returned to Misselthwaite and the small miserable looking thing languidly and indifferently lifted to his face the great gray eyes with black lashes round them, so like and yet so horribly unlike the happy eyes he had adored, he could not bear the sight of them and turned away pale as death. Poprvé po roční nepřítomnosti se vrátil do Misselthwaite a ten malý uboze vypadající tvor si malátně a lhostejně zvedl k obličeji velké šedé oči s černými řasami, které byly tak podobné, a přesto tak strašně odlišné od šťastných očí, které zbožňoval, mohl nesnesl je pohledem a odvrátil se bledý jako smrt. After that he scarcely ever saw him except when he was asleep, and all he knew of him was that he was a confirmed invalid, with a vicious, hysterical, half-insane temper. Potom ho sotva kdy viděl, kromě doby, kdy spal, a věděl o něm jen to, že je to potvrzený invalida, se zlomyslnou, hysterickou, pološílenou povahou. He could only be kept from furies dangerous to himself by being given his own way in every detail. Před zuřivostí, která je pro něj nebezpečná, ho bylo možné uchránit pouze tím, že mu byl v každém detailu svěřen vlastní způsob.

All this was not an uplifting thing to recall, but as the train whirled him through mountain passes and golden plains the man who was “coming alive” began to think in a new way and he thought long and steadily and deeply. To vše nebylo povznášející, ale když ho vlak točil přes horské průsmyky a zlaté pláně, muž, který „ožíval“, začal přemýšlet novým způsobem a přemýšlel dlouho, vytrvale a hluboce.

“Perhaps I have been all wrong for ten years,” he said to himself. "Možná jsem se deset let mýlil," řekl si. “Ten years is a long time. „Deset let je dlouhá doba. It may be too late to do anything—quite too late. Může být příliš pozdě něco udělat – docela pozdě. What have I been thinking of!” Na co jsem myslel!"

Of course this was the wrong Magic—to begin by saying “too late.” Even Colin could have told him that. Samozřejmě to byla špatná magie – na začátek tím, že řekl „příliš pozdě“. I Colin mu to mohl říct. But he knew nothing of Magic—either black or white. Ale o magii nevěděl nic – ať už černé nebo bílé. This he had yet to learn. Tohle se ještě musel naučit. He wondered if Susan Sowerby had taken courage and written to him only because the motherly creature had realized that the boy was much worse—was fatally ill. Napadlo ho, jestli Susan Sowerbyová sebrala odvahu a napsala mu jen proto, že mateřská bytost si uvědomila, že ten chlapec je na tom mnohem hůř – je smrtelně nemocný. If he had not been under the spell of the curious calmness which had taken possession of him he would have been more wretched than ever. Kdyby nebyl pod kouzlem podivného klidu, který se ho zmocnil, byl by ještě ubohější než kdy jindy. But the calm had brought a sort of courage and hope with it. Ale ten klid s sebou přinesl jakousi odvahu a naději. Instead of giving way to thoughts of the worst he actually found he was trying to believe in better things. Místo toho, aby ustoupil myšlenkám na to nejhorší, co skutečně zjistil, snažil se věřit v lepší věci.

“Could it be possible that she sees that I may be able to do him good and control him?” he thought. "Je možné, že vidí, že mu mohu dělat dobře a ovládat ho?" myslel. “I will go and see her on my way to Misselthwaite.” "Půjdu a uvidím ji na cestě do Misselthwaite."

But when on his way across the moor he stopped the carriage at the cottage, seven or eight children who were playing about gathered in a group and bobbing seven or eight friendly and polite curtsies told him that their mother had gone to the other side of the moor early in the morning to help a woman who had a new baby. Ale když na cestě přes vřesoviště zastavil kočár u chaty, sedm nebo osm dětí, které si hrály, se shromáždilo ve skupině a poskakovaly sedm nebo osm přátelských a zdvořilých úklon, řeklo mu, že jejich matka odešla na druhou stranu. kotvit brzy ráno, aby pomohl ženě, která měla nové dítě. “Our Dickon,” they volunteered, was over at the Manor working in one of the gardens where he went several days each week. ||||||||||||||||||plusieurs|plusieurs jours|| "Náš Dickon," přihlásili se dobrovolně, pracoval na Manor v jedné ze zahrad, kam chodil několik dní v týdnu.

Mr. Craven looked over the collection of sturdy little bodies and round red-cheeked faces, each one grinning in its own particular way, and he awoke to the fact that they were a healthy likable lot. Pan Craven si prohlédl sbírku statných malých tělíček a kulatých tváří s červenými tvářemi, z nichž každý se šklebil svým vlastním způsobem, a probudil se s tím, že jsou zdravě sympatičtí. He smiled at their friendly grins and took a golden sovereign from his pocket and gave it to “our 'Lizabeth Ellen” who was the oldest. Usmál se jejich přátelským úsměvům, vytáhl z kapsy zlatý suverén a dal ho „naší ‚Lizabeth Ellen‘, která byla nejstarší.

“If you divide that into eight parts there will be half a crown for each of, you,” he said. "Když to rozdělíte na osm částí, bude pro vás půl koruny," řekl.

Then amid grins and chuckles and bobbing of curtsies he drove away, leaving ecstasy and nudging elbows and little jumps of joy behind. Pak mezi úšklebky, chichotáním a kýváním klanění odjel a nechal za sebou extázi, šťouchání lokty a malé skoky radosti.

The drive across the wonderfulness of the moor was a soothing thing. Jízda přes nádheru vřesoviště byla uklidňující. Why did it seem to give him a sense of homecoming which he had been sure he could never feel again—that sense of the beauty of land and sky and purple bloom of distance and a warming of the heart at drawing, nearer to the great old house which had held those of his blood for six hundred years? Proč se mu zdálo, že mu to dává pocit návratu domů, o kterém si byl jistý, že ho už nikdy nepocítí – ten pocit krásy země a nebe a purpurového květu dálky a zahřátí srdce při kreslení, blíže k velkému starému dům, který držel ty jeho krve šest set let? How he had driven away from it the last time, shuddering to think of its closed rooms and the boy lying in the four-posted bed with the brocaded hangings. Jak od něj naposledy ujel a otřásl se při pomyšlení na jeho uzavřené pokoje a na chlapce ležícího v posteli se čtyřmi sloupky s brokátovými závěsy. Was it possible that perhaps he might find him changed a little for the better and that he might overcome his shrinking from him? Bylo možné, že by mohl zjistit, že se trochu změnil k lepšímu a že by mohl překonat to, jak se od něj vzdaluje? How real that dream had been—how wonderful and clear the voice which called back to him, “In the garden—In the garden!” Jak skutečný ten sen byl - jak nádherný a jasný hlas, který na něj volal: "V zahradě - V zahradě!"

“I will try to find the key,” he said. "Pokusím se najít klíč," řekl. “I will try to open the door. "Pokusím se otevřít dveře." I must—though I don't know why.” Musím - i když nevím proč."

When he arrived at the Manor the servants who received him with the usual ceremony noticed that he looked better and that he did not go to the remote rooms where he usually lived attended by Pitcher. Když dorazil na Manor, sluhové, kteří ho přijali obvyklým obřadem, si všimli, že vypadá lépe a že nechodil do odlehlých pokojů, kde obvykle bydlel, za přítomnosti Džbána. He went into the library and sent for Mrs. Medlock. Šel do knihovny a poslal pro paní Medlockovou. She came to him somewhat excited and curious and flustered. Přišla k němu poněkud vzrušená, zvědavá a rozrušená.

“How is Master Colin, Medlock?” he inquired. "Jak se má Mistr Colin, Medlocku?" zeptal se.

“Well, sir,” Mrs. Medlock answered, “he's—he's different, in a manner of speaking.” "No, pane," odpověděla paní Medlocková, "on je - je jiný, svým způsobem řeči."

“Worse?” he suggested. "Horší?" on navrhl.

Mrs. Medlock really was flushed. Paní Medlocková opravdu zrudla.

“Well, you see, sir,” she tried to explain, “neither Dr. Craven, nor the nurse, nor me can exactly make him out.” "No, vidíte, pane," pokusila se vysvětlit, "ani doktor Craven, ani sestra, ani já ho nedokážeme přesně rozeznat."

“Why is that?” "Proč to?"

“To tell the truth, sir, Master Colin might be better and he might be changing for the worse. "Abych řekl pravdu, pane, mistr Colin je možná lepší a možná se mění k horšímu." His appetite, sir, is past understanding—and his ways—” Jeho chuť k jídlu, pane, je mimo chápání – a jeho způsoby –“

“Has he become more—more peculiar?” her master, asked, knitting his brows anxiously. "Stal se více - zvláštnějším?" zeptal se její pán a úzkostlivě svraštil obočí.

“That's it, sir. "To je ono, pane." He's growing very peculiar—when you compare him with what he used to be. Stává se velmi zvláštním – když ho srovnáte s tím, čím býval. He used to eat nothing and then suddenly he began to eat something enormous—and then he stopped again all at once and the meals were sent back just as they used to be. Kdysi nic nejedl, a pak najednou začal jíst něco obrovského – a pak zase najednou přestal a jídla mu byla poslána zpět, jak bývala. You never knew, sir, perhaps, that out of doors he never would let himself be taken. Možná jste nikdy nevěděl, pane, že se nikdy nenechá odvést ven. Vous n'avez peut-être jamais su, monsieur, qu'à l'extérieur il ne se laisserait jamais prendre. The things we've gone through to get him to go out in his chair would leave a body trembling like a leaf. Věci, kterými jsme prošli, abychom ho přiměli, aby vstal na židli, by zanechaly tělo chvějící se jako list. Les choses que nous avons traversées pour le faire sortir dans son fauteuil laisseraient un corps tremblant comme une feuille. He'd throw himself into such a state that Dr. Craven said he couldn't be responsible for forcing him. Uvrhl by se do takového stavu, že doktor Craven řekl, že nemůže být zodpovědný za to, že ho donutil. Il se mettait dans un tel état que le Dr Craven a dit qu'il ne pouvait pas être responsable de le forcer. Well, sir, just without warning—not long after one of his worst tantrums he suddenly insisted on being taken out every day by Miss Mary and Susan Sowerby's boy Dickon that could push his chair. No, pane, jen tak bez varování – nedlouho po jednom ze svých nejhorších záchvatů vzteku náhle trval na tom, že ho každý den vyvede slečna Mary a chlapec Susan Sowerbyové Dickon, který by mu mohl přitlačit židli. He took a fancy to both Miss Mary and Dickon, and Dickon brought his tame animals, and, if you'll credit it, sir, out of doors he will stay from morning until night.” Oblíbil si slečnu Mary i Dickona a Dickon přivedl svá krotká zvířata, a pokud si to dovolíte, pane, bude venku od rána do noci.“ Il s'est pris d'affection pour Mademoiselle Mary et Dickon, et Dickon a amené ses animaux apprivoisés, et, si vous le croyez, monsieur, dehors, il reste du matin jusqu'à la nuit.

“How does he look?” was the next question. "Jak vypadá?" byla další otázka. « À quoi ressemble-t-il ? » était la question suivante.

“If he took his food natural, sir, you'd think he was putting on flesh—but we're afraid it may be a sort of bloat. |||||||||||||||||||||||gonflement "Kdyby se živil přirozeně, pane, myslel byste si, že se natahuje do masa - ale obáváme se, že to může být druh nadýmání." « S'il prenait sa nourriture naturellement, monsieur, vous penseriez qu'il prend du poids – mais nous avons peur que ce soit une sorte de gonflement. » He laughs sometimes in a queer way when he's alone with Miss Mary. Někdy se podivně směje, když je sám se slečnou Mary. He never used to laugh at all. Nikdy se vůbec nesmál. Dr. Craven is coming to see you at once, if you'll allow him. Dr. Craven vás okamžitě navštíví, pokud mu to dovolíte. He never was as puzzled in his life.” Nikdy v životě nebyl tak zmatený."

“Where is Master Colin now?” Mr. Craven asked. "Kde je teď mistr Colin?" zeptal se pan Craven.

“In the garden, sir. "Na zahradě, pane." He's always in the garden—though not a human creature is allowed to go near for fear they'll look at him.” Je pořád v zahradě – i když žádné lidské stvoření se nesmí přiblížit, protože se bojí, že by se na něj podívali.“

Mr. Craven scarcely heard her last words. Pan Craven sotva slyšel její poslední slova.

“In the garden,” he said, and after he had sent Mrs. Medlock away he stood and repeated it again and again. "V zahradě," řekl, a poté, co poslal paní Medlockovou pryč, vstal a opakoval to znovu a znovu. “In the garden!” "Na zahradě!"

He had to make an effort to bring himself back to the place he was standing in and when he felt he was on earth again he turned and went out of the room. Musel vynaložit úsilí, aby se vrátil na místo, kde stál, a když cítil, že je znovu na zemi, otočil se a odešel z místnosti. Il a dû faire un effort pour revenir à l'endroit où il se tenait et quand il a senti qu'il était à nouveau sur terre, il s'est retourné et est sorti de la chambre. He took his way, as Mary had done, through the door in the shrubbery and among the laurels and the fountain beds. Prošel, stejně jako Mary, dveřmi v křoví a mezi vavříny a záhony s fontánami. Il a suivi son chemin, tout comme Mary, à travers la porte dans la broussaille et parmi les lauriers et les parterres de fontaine. The fountain was playing now and was encircled by beds of brilliant autumn flowers. Fontána teď hrála a byla obklopena záhony zářivých podzimních květin. La fontaine jouait maintenant et était entourée de parterres de fleurs d'automne éclatantes. He crossed the lawn and turned into the Long Walk by the ivied walls. Přešel trávník a zabočil do Dlouhé procházky u zdí s břečťanem. He did not walk quickly, but slowly, and his eyes were on the path. Nešel rychle, ale pomalu a oči měl upřené na cestu. He felt as if he were being drawn back to the place he had so long forsaken, and he did not know why. Cítil se, jako by ho to táhlo zpět na místo, které tak dlouho opustil, a nevěděl proč. As he drew near to it his step became still more slow. Jak se k němu přibližoval, jeho krok byl ještě pomalejší. He knew where the door was even though the ivy hung thick over it—but he did not know exactly where it lay—that buried key. Věděl, kde jsou dveře, i když přes ně visel břečťan – ale nevěděl přesně, kde leží – ten zakopaný klíč.

So he stopped and stood still, looking about him, and almost the moment after he had paused he started and listened—asking himself if he were walking in a dream. ||||||regardant||||||||||||||||||||||| A tak se zastavil a zůstal stát, rozhlížel se kolem sebe a téměř chvíli poté, co se zastavil, začal a poslouchal – ptal se sám sebe, jestli kráčí ve snu. Alors il s'arrêta et resta immobile, regardant autour de lui, et presque au moment où il avait pausé, il sursauta et écouta—se demandant s'il marchait dans un rêve.

The ivy hung thick over the door, the key was buried under the shrubs, no human being had passed that portal for ten lonely years—and yet inside the garden there were sounds. Břečťan visel hustě nade dveřmi, klíč byl zahrabaný pod keři, žádný člověk neprošel tímto portálem deset osamělých let – a přesto se uvnitř zahrady ozývaly zvuky. Le lierre pendait épais sur la porte, la clé était enterrée sous les buissons, aucun être humain n'avait franchi ce portail depuis dix longues années—et pourtant à l'intérieur du jardin il y avait des sons. They were the sounds of running scuffling feet seeming to chase round and round under the trees, they were strange sounds of lowered suppressed voices—exclamations and smothered joyous cries. Byly to zvuky běžících, šouravých nohou, jako by se honily kolem a dokola pod stromy, byly to zvláštní zvuky snížených potlačených hlasů – výkřiky a tlumené radostné výkřiky. C'étaient les sons de pieds précipités se déplaçant sous les arbres, c'étaient des sons étranges de voix étouffées et réprimées—des exclamations et des cris de joie étouffés. It seemed actually like the laughter of young things, the uncontrollable laughter of children who were trying not to be heard but who in a moment or so—as their excitement mounted—would burst forth. Vlastně to vypadalo jako smích mladých lidí, nekontrolovatelný smích dětí, které se snažily nebýt slyšet, ale které za chvíli – jak jejich vzrušení narůstalo – vybuchly. Cela semblait en fait comme le rire de jeunes êtres, le rire incontrôlable des enfants qui essayaient de ne pas être entendus mais qui, dans un moment ou deux—alors que leur excitation montait—allaient éclater. What in heaven's name was he dreaming of—what in heaven's name did he hear? O čem proboha snil – co to proboha slyšel? De quoi diable rêvait-il—qu'est-ce qu'il entendait diable ? Was he losing his reason and thinking he heard things which were not for human ears? Ztrácel rozum a myslel si, že slyšel věci, které nebyly pro lidské uši? Perdait-il la raison et pensait-il entendre des choses qui n'étaient pas pour les oreilles humaines ? Was it that the far clear voice had meant? Měl na mysli ten jasný hlas?

And then the moment came, the uncontrollable moment when the sounds forgot to hush themselves. A pak přišel ten okamžik, ten nekontrolovatelný okamžik, kdy se zvuky zapomněly utišit. Et puis le moment est arrivé, le moment incontrôlable où les sons ont oublié de se taire. The feet ran faster and faster—they were nearing the garden door—there was quick strong young breathing and a wild outbreak of laughing shouts which could not be contained—and the door in the wall was flung wide open, the sheet of ivy swinging back, and a boy burst through it at full speed and, without seeing the outsider, dashed almost into his arms. Nohy běžely rychleji a rychleji – blížily se ke dveřím do zahrady – rychle se nadechlo mladé mladé a divoký výbuch smíchu, který se nedal zadržet – a dveře ve zdi se rozletěly dokořán a list břečťanu se odvrátil. , a nějaký chlapec jím prorazil plnou rychlostí, a aniž by toho outsidera viděl, vrhl se mu téměř do náruče. Les pieds couraient de plus en plus vite - ils approchaient de la porte du jardin - il y avait une respiration rapide et vive et une explosion sauvage de rires qui ne pouvaient être contenue - et la porte dans le mur s'est ouverte en grand, la feuille de lierre se balançant en arrière, et un garçon a foncé à travers à toute vitesse et, sans voir l'étranger, s'est presque précipité dans ses bras.

Mr. Craven had extended them just in time to save him from falling as a result of his unseeing dash against him, and when he held him away to look at him in amazement at his being there he truly gasped for breath. Pan Craven je natáhl právě včas, aby ho zachránil před pádem v důsledku jeho nevidomého úprku proti němu, a když ho oddaloval, aby se na něj v úžasu podíval, že tam je, opravdu lapal po dechu. M. Craven les a étendus juste à temps pour le sauver de tomber à la suite de sa course aveugle contre lui, et quand il l'a tenu à distance pour le regarder avec étonnement d'être là, il a vraiment eu du mal à respirer.

He was a tall boy and a handsome one. Byl to vysoký kluk a hezký. He was glowing with life and his running had sent splendid color leaping to his face. Zářil životem a při běhu mu do obličeje naskakovaly nádherné barvy. Il rayonnait de vie et sa course avait fait jaillir des couleurs splendides sur son visage. He threw the thick hair back from his forehead and lifted a pair of strange gray eyes—eyes full of boyish laughter and rimmed with black lashes like a fringe. Odhodil si husté vlasy z čela a zvedl pár podivných šedých očí – oči plné chlapeckého smíchu a lemované černými řasami jako ofina. Il repoussa les cheveux épais en arrière de son front et leva une paire d'étranges yeux gris - des yeux pleins de rire juvénile et cerclés de cils noirs comme une frange. It was the eyes which made Mr. Craven gasp for breath. Byly to oči, kvůli kterým pan Craven lapal po dechu. Ce furent les yeux qui firent haleter M. Craven.

“Who—What? "Kdo co? Who!” he stammered. SZO!" koktal.

This was not what Colin had expected—this was not what he had planned. Tohle Colin nečekal – tohle neplánoval. He had never thought of such a meeting. Na takové setkání nikdy nepomyslel. And yet to come dashing out—winning a race—perhaps it was even better. A přesto vyrazit ven – vyhrát závod – možná to bylo ještě lepší. Et pourtant se précipiter dehors - gagner une course - peut-être que c'était même mieux. He drew himself up to his very tallest. Vytáhl se do svého nejvyššího. Il se redressa de toute sa hauteur. Mary, who had been running with him and had dashed through the door too, believed that he managed to make himself look taller than he had ever looked before—inches taller. Mary, která běžela s ním a také se vrhla dveřmi, věřila, že se mu podařilo vypadat vyšší, než kdy předtím – o několik centimetrů vyšší. Mary, qui avait couru avec lui et avait également franchi la porte, croyait qu'il réussissait à se faire paraître plus grand qu'il ne l'avait jamais été auparavant - des pouces de plus.

“Father,” he said, “I'm Colin. "Otče," řekl, "já jsem Colin. You can't believe it. Nemůžeš tomu uvěřit. I scarcely can myself. Sám stěží mohu. I'm Colin.” Já jsem Colin."

Like Mrs. Jako Mrs.