en-de  Anne of Green Gables /Chapter XXVII Medium
KAPITEL 27


EITELKEIT UND QUAL DES GEISTES


Marilla, die an einem späten Aprilabend von einem Fördervereinstreffen nach Hause ging, bemerkte, dass der Winter vorüber war und mit dem Schauer von Vergnügen gegangen war, das dem Frühling niemals misslingt zu den Ältesten und Traurigsten genauso wie zu den Jüngsten und Lustigsten zu bringen. Marilla neigte nicht zur subjektiven Analyse ihrer Gedanken und Gefühle She probably imagined that she was thinking about the Aids and their missionary box and the new carpet for the vestry-room, but under these reflections was a harmonious consciousness of red fields smoking into pale-purply mists in the declining sun, of long, sharp-pointed fir shadows falling over the meadow beyond the brook, of still, crimson-budded maples around a mirror-like wood-pool, of a wakening in the world and a stir of hidden pulses under the gray sod. Der Frühling war draußen im Land und Marillas vernünftiger Schritt mittleren Alters war leichter und schneller wegen seiner tiefen, ursprünglichen Freude.

Ihr Blick verweilte liebevoll auf Green Gables, das durch sein Netzwerk von Bäumen schimmerte und das Sonnenlicht von seinen Fenstern in vielen kleinen prächtigen Blitzen zurückwarf. Marilla, die ihre Schritte auf dem feuchten Weg sorgfältig wählte, dachte, was für ein ein echtes Behagen es war, zu wissen, dass sie zu einem lebhaft knisternden Holzfeuer und zu einem Tisch, nett hergerichtet für den Tee, nach Hause kam, anstatt zu der kalten Bequemlichkeit vergangener Treffen, bevor Anne nach Green Gables gekommen war.

Als Marilla die Küche betrat und das Feuer erloschen vorfand, ohne jede Spur von Anne, fühlte sie sich infolgedessen zu Recht enttäuscht und irritiert. Sie hatte Anne aufgetragen, den Tee nur ja rechtzeitig um fünf Uhr fertig zu haben, aber nun musste sie sich beeilen, ihr zweitbestes Kleid auszuziehen und das Essen auf die Schnelle für Matthews Rückkehr vom Pflügen selbst vorzubereiten.

"Ich werde mit Miss Anne abrechnen, wenn sie nach Hause kommt", sagte Marilla grimmig, als sie Kleinholz mit einem Schnitzmesser und mehr Schwung hobelte, als zweifellos notwendig war. Matthew war hereingekommen und wartete geduldig auf seinen Tee in seiner Ecke. "Sie treibt sich irgendwo mit Diana herum, schreibt Geschichten oder übt Dialoge oder irgendeine Albernheit, und denkt nie an die Zeit oder ihre Pflichten. Sie muss nur kurz und schmerzlos dazu herangezogen werden. Es ist mir egal, ob Mrs. Allan sagt, sie sei das klügste und süßeste Kind, das sie je kannte. Sie mag hell und süß sein, aber ihr Kopf ist voller Unsinn, und man weiß nie, in welcher Form er als nächstes ausbrechen wird. Sobald sie aus einer Laune herauswächst, nimmt sie es mit einer anderen auf. Aber da! Jetzt sage ich genau das, was mich so bei Rachel Lynde geärget hat, als sie es heute beim Treffen sagte. Ich war heilfroh, als Mrs. Allan zu Gunsten von Anne sprach, denn wenn sie es nicht getan hätte, weiß ich, dann hätte ich vor allen anderen etwas zu Scharfes zu Rachel gesagt. Anne hat viele Fehler, weiß Gott, und es liegt mir fern, sie zu leugnen. Aber ich ziehe sie auf, nicht Rachel Lynde, die Fehler selbst im Engel Gabriel finden würde, wenn er in Avonlea lebte. Trotzdem hat Anne kein Recht dazu, das Haus so zu verlassen, wenn ich ihr gesagt habe, dass sie diesen Nachmittag zu Hause bleiben und nach dem Rechten sehen muss. Ich muss sagen, mit all ihren Fehlern erlebte ich sie vorher nie ungehorsam oder unzuverlässig und es tut mir wirklich leid, sie nun so kennenzulernen.

"Also, ich habe keine Ahnung", sagte Matthew, der, geduldig und verständnisvoll und vor allen Dingen hungrig, es für das Beste erachtet hatte, Marilla ihren Zorn ungehindert aussprechen zu lassen, er hatte durch Erfahrung gelernt, dass sie mit jeder Arbeit, die sie gerade tat, viel schneller fertig wurde, wenn sie nicht durch unpassende Argumente aufgehalten wurde. "Vielleicht verurteilst du sie zu voreilig, Marilla. Nenn sie nicht unzuverlässig, bis du sicher bist, dass sie dir nicht gehorcht hat. Vielleicht kann alles erklärt werden - Anne ist eine große Könnerin bei Erklärungen."

"Sie war nicht hier, als ich ihr gesagt habe zu bleiben", erwiderte Marilla. "Ich vermute, sie wird es schwierig finden, das zu meiner Zufriedenheit zu erklären. Natürlich wusste ich, dass du auf ihrer Seite bist, Matthew. Aber ich erziehe sie, nicht du."

Es war dunkel, als das Abendessen fertig war und immer noch kein Zeichen von Anne, die schnell über die Holzbrücke oder über Lovers Lane kam, atemlos und reumütig, mit dem Gefühl von vernachlässigten Pflichten. Marilla wusch ab und räumte verbissen das Geschirr weg. Dann, weil sie eine Kerze brauchte, um ihren unteren Keller zu beleuchten, ging sie zum Ostgiebel, um die zu holen, die üblicherweise auf Annes Tisch stand. Sie entzündete sie, wandte sich um, um Anne höchstpersönlich zu sehen, die auf dem Bett lag, das Gesicht nach unten auf den Kissen.

" Erbarmen mit uns", sagte die erstaunte Marilla, "hast du geschlafen, Anne?"

"Nein", war die gedämpfte Antwort.

"Bist du dann krank?" fragte Marilla ängstlich nach und ging zum Bett hinüber.

Anne kauerte sich tiefer in ihre Kissen, als ob sie sich für immer vor sterblichen Augen verstecken wollte.

"Nein. Aber bitte, Marilla, geh weg und schau mich nicht an. Ich bin in tiefster Verzweiflung und es ist mir egal, wer Klassenbester ist oder die beste Komposition schreibt oder im Sonntagsschulchor singt. Kleinigkeiten wie diese sind jetzt unwichtig, da ich nicht glaube, dass ich jemals wieder irgendwo hingehen kann. Meine Karriere ist zu Ende. Bitte, Marilla, geh weg und und schau mich nicht an."

"Hat irgend jemand jemals etwas Ähnliches gehört?" wollte die verblüffte Marilla wissen. "Anne Shirley, was ist los mit dir? Was hast du gemacht? Steh' sofort auf und sage es mir. Sofort, sage ich. Also, was ist?"

Anne war in verzweifeltem Gehorsam auf den Boden gerutscht.

" Sieh dir meine Haare an, Marilla", flüsterte sie.

Dementsprechend hob Marilla ihre Kerze an und schaute prüfend auf Annes Haare, die in erheblichen Mengen ihrem Rücken herunterwallten. Es hatte bestimmt ein sehr merkwürdiges Aussehen.

"Anne Shirley, was hast du mit deinem Haar gemacht? Aber nein, es ist grün!"

Grün hätte es genannt werden können, wenn es irgendeine weltliche Farbe gewesen wäre, - ein eigenartiges, mattes, bräunliches Grün, mit Strähnen vom urprünglichen Rot hier und da, um die schauderhafte Wirkung zu erhöhen. Nie in ihrem Leben hatte Marilla etwas so Groteskes gesehen, wie Annes Haar in dem Moment.

"Ja, es ist grün", jammerte Anne. "Ich dachte, nichts könnte so schlimm sein, wie rotes Haar. Aber nun weiß ich, dass es zehnmal schlimmer ist, grünes Haar zu haben. Oh, Marilla, du ahnst nicht, wie vollkommen sterbenselend ich bin."

"Ich ahne nicht, wie du in diese Klemme geraten bist, aber ich habe vor, es herauszufinden", sagte Marilla. "Komm direkt in die Küche - es ist zu kalt hier oben - und erzähl mir einfach, was du gemacht hast. Ich habe schon einige Zeit etwas Seltsames erwartet. Du bist seit über zwei Monaten in keine Klemme geraten, und ich war sicher, dass wieder eine fällig war. Nun also, was hast du mit deinem Haar gemacht?"

"Ich habe es gefärbt."

"Gefärbt! Dein Haar gefärbt! Anne Shirley, wusstest du nicht, dass es sündhaft war, das zu tun?"

"Ja, ich wusste, dass es ein bisschen sündhaft war", gab Anne zu. "Aber ich dachte, es wäre lohnend, ein bisschen sündhaft zu sein, um rotes Haar loszuwerden. Ich musste dafür büßen, Marilla. Außerdem beabsichtigte ich, in anderen Dingen besonders artig zu sein , um es auszugleichen."

" Gut", sagte Marilla sarkastisch, "wenn ich entschieden hätte, es lohnte sich meine Haare zu färben, dann hätte ich es zumindest in einer annehmbaren Farbe getan. Ich würde es nicht grün gefärbt haben."

"Aber ich wollte es nicht grün färben, Marilla", protestierte Anne bedrückt. "Wenn ich böse war, wollte ich aus irgendeinem Grund böse sein. Er sagte, es würde meine Haare in ein wunderschönes rabenschwarz verwandeln - er versicherte mir eindeutig, dass es das würde. Wie hätte ich an seinem Wort zweifeln können, Marilla? Ich weiß, wie es sich anfühlt, wenn dein Wort angezweifelt wird. Und Mrs. Allan sagt, wir sollten niemanden verdächtigen , uns nicht die Wahrheit zu sagen, es sei denn, wir haben Beweise dafür, dass sie es nicht sind. Ich habe den Beweis jetzt - grüne Haare sind für jeden Beweis genug. Aber die hatte ich da nicht und ich glaubte jedes Wort, was er sagte, bedingungslos."

"Wer sagte? Von wem redest du?"

"Der Hausierer, der heute Nachmittag hier war. Ich kaufte das Färbemittel von ihm."

"Anne Shirley, wie oft habe ich dir gesagt, niemals einen von diesen Italienern ins Haus zu lassen! Ich glaube nicht, sie zu ermutigen, hier überhaupt aufzukreuzen.

"Oh, ich habe ihn nicht ins Haus gelassen. Ich erinnerte mich daran, was du mir gesagt hast und ging hinaus, habe die Tür sorgfältig geschlossen und sah mir seine Sachen auf den Stufen an. Außerdem war er kein Italiener - er war ein Deutscher Jude. Er hatte eine große Kiste voll sehr interessanter Dinge und er erzählte mir, dass er hart arbeiten würde, um genug Geld zu verdienen, um seine Frau und Kinder aus Deutschland herauszuschaffen. Er sprach so gefühlvoll über sie, dass es mein Herz berührte. Ich wollte ihm etwas abkaufen, um ihm bei solch einem würdigen Ziel zu helfen. Dann sah ich auf einmal die Haarfärbeflasche. Der Hausierer sagte, es färbe garantiert jedes Haar in ein wunderschönes rabenschwarz und würde sich nicht rauswaschen. Einen Moment lang sah ich mich mit wunderschönem rabenschwarzem Haar und die Versuchung war unwiderstehlich. Aber der Preis der Flasche betrug fünfundsiebzig Cent und ich hatte nur fünfzig Cent von meinem Notgroschen übrig. Ich glaube, der Hausierer hatte ein sehr gutes Herz, weil er sagte, weil ich es wäre, würde er es für fünfzig Cent verkaufen und das wäre genau wie geschenkt. Also kaufte ich es und sobald er gegangen war kam ich hier hoch und wandte es mit einer alten Haarbürste an, wie die Gebrauchsanweisung sagte. Ich verbrauchte die ganze Flasche und, oh Marilla, als ich die schreckliche Farbe sah, in die es mein Haar verwandelt hatte, bereute ich, sündhaft gewesen zu sein, das kann ich dir sagen. Und ich bereue es seitdem."

"Also, ich hoffe, du bereust es mit guten Vorsätzen", sagte Marilla streng," und das es dir die Augen geöffnet hat, wohin dich deine Eitelkeit geführt hat, Anne, wer weiß, was jetzt zu tun ist. Ich schätze, zuerst waschen wir deine Haare gut und sehen, ob das was nützt."

Folglich wusch Anne ihre Haare, scheuerte sie heftig mit Seife und Wasser, aber für den Unterschied, den es ausmachte, hätte sie genau so gut ihr ursprüngliches Rot abscheuern können. Der Hausierer hatte in der Tat die Wahrheit gesagt, als er angab, dass die Farbe nicht auswaschbar sei, seine Aufrichtigkeit könnte allerdings in anderer Hinsicht angeklagt werden.

"Oh Marilla, was soll ich tun?" fragte Anne unter Tränen. "Ich kann mich nie mehr davon reinwaschen. Die Leute haben meine anderen Fehler ziemlich gut vergessen - den Pinimentholkuchen und Diana betrunken zu machen und gegenüber Mrs. Lynde aufzubrausen. Aber dies werden sie niemals vergessen. Sie werden meinen, dass ich nicht anständig bin. Oh, Marilla, 'Oh, was für ein Wirrwarr wir weben, wenn wir als erstes üben zu täuschen.' Das ist Poesie, aber es ist wahr. Und, oh, wie wird Josie Pye lachen! Marilla, ich kann Josie Pye nicht gegenübertreten. Ich bin das unglücklichste Mädchen auf Prince Edward Island."

Annes Traurigkeit dauerte eine Woche. Während dieser Zeit ging sie nirgendwo hin und schamponierte jeden Tag ihr Haar. Von den Außenstehenden wusste allein Diana das fatale Geheimnis, aber sie versprach feierlich, es nicht zu erzählen, und es kann hier und jetzt gesagt werden, dass sie ihr Wort hielt. Am Ende der Woche sagte Marilla deutlich: "Es hat keinen Zweck, Anne. Das ist ein haltbarer Farbstoff, wenn es je einen gab. Deine Haare müssen abgeschnitten werden; es gibt keine andere Möglichkeit. Du kannst damit nicht ausgehen und so aussehen."

Annes Lippen bebten, aber sie begriff die bittere Wahrheit von Marillas Bemerkungen. Mit einem trostlosen Seufzer holte sie die Schere.

" Bitte, schneide sie sofort ab, Marilla, und es ist vorbei. Oh, ich fühle, dass mein Herz gebrochen ist. Das ist so ein unromantisches Elend. Die Mädchen in den Büchern verlieren ihre Haare im Fieber oder sie verkaufen sie, um Geld für ein paar gute Taten zu bekommen, und ich bin sicher, es würde mir nur halb so viel ausmachen, auf eine solche Weise meine Haare zu verlieren. Es ist nichts Tröstliches daran, sich die Haare abschneiden zu lassen, weil man sie in einer schrecklichen Farbe gefärbt hat, oder? Ich werde die ganze Zeit weinen, während du sie abschneidest, wenn es nicht stört. Es scheint so eine tragische Sache zu sein."

Anne weinte dann, aber später, als sie nach oben ging und in den Spiegel schaute, war sie vor Verzweiflung ruhig. Marilla hatte ihre Arbeit gründlich gemacht und es war notwendig gewesen, einen Bubikopf, so kurz wie möglich, zu schneiden. Das Ergebnis war nichts geworden, um den Fall so sanft wie möglich darzulegen. Anne drehte prompt ihren Spiegel zur Wand.

Ich werde mich niemals wieder selbst anschauen bis meine Haare gewachsen sind", rief sie leidenschaftlich aus.

Dann korrigierte sie plötzlich den Spiegel.

"Ja, das werde ich auch. Ich sollte Buße tun, da ich so böse bin. Ich werde mich jedes Mal anschauen, wenn ich in mein Zimmer komme und sehen, wie hässlich ich bin. Und ich werde auch nicht versuchen, es wegzudenken. Ich dachte nie, dass ich ausgerechnet wegen meiner Haare eingebildet wäre, aber jetzt weiß ich, ich war es, obwohl es rot ist, weil es so lang, dick und lockig war. Ich erwarte, dass als nächstes etwas mit meiner Nase geschieht."

Annes geschorener Kopf war am folgenden Montag eine Sensation in der Schule, aber zu ihrer Erleichterung erriet niemand den wahren Grund, nicht einmal Josie Pye, die allerdings nicht versäumte, Anne zu informieren, dass sie wie eine perfekte Vogelscheuche aussähe.

"Ich sagte nichts als Josie das zu mir sagte", vertraute Anne an diesem Abend Marilla an, die nach einem ihrer Kopfschmerzanfälle auf dem Sofa lag, " weil ich dachte, es sei Teil meiner Bestrafung und ich sollte es geduldig ertragen. Es ist hart, wenn einem gesagt wird, man sähe wie eine Vogelscheuche aus und ich wollte etwas erwidern. Aber ich tat es nicht. Ich warf ihr einen verächtlichen Blick zu und dann vergab ich ihr. Man fühlt sich sehr tugendhaft, wenn man Leuten vergibt, ist es nicht so? Nach dieser Sache habe ich vor, alle meine Energien darauf zu verwenden, gut zu sein und ich werde nie wieder versuchen, schön zu sein. Natürlich ist es besser, brav zu sein. Ich weiß, dass es so ist, aber es ist manchmal so schwer eine Sache zu glauben, auch wenn man es weiß. Ich möchte wirklich brav sein, Marilla, wie du und Mrs. Allan und Miss Stacy und erwachsen werden und dir alle Ehre machen. Diana sagt, wenn mein Haar anfängt zu wachsen, wird sie ein schwarzes Samtband um meinen Kopf binden mit einer Schleife an einer Seite. Sie sagt, dass sie glaubt, es wird sehr vorteilhaft sein. Ich werde es Haarnetz nennen - das klingt so romantisch. Aber rede ich zuviel, Marilla? Tut das deinem Kopf weh?"

"Meinem Kopf geht es nun besser. Obwohl es heute nachmittag schrecklich schlimm war. Meine Kopfschmerzen werden schlimmer und schlimmer. Ich muss deswegen zum Arzt gehen. Wegen deines Geplappers bin ich nicht sicher, ob es mir etwas ausmacht - ich habe mich so daran gewöhnt."

Was Marillas Art war zu sagen, dass sie es gerne hörte.
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CHAPTER XXVII.
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VANITY AND VEXATION OF SPIRIT.
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Marilla was not given to subjective analysis of her thoughts and feelings.
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Matthew had come in and was waiting patiently for his tea in his corner.
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She's just got to be pulled up short and sudden on this sort of thing.
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I don't care if Mrs. Allan does say she's the brightest and sweetest child she ever knew.
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Just as soon as she grows out of one freak she takes up with another.
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But there!
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Here I am saying the very thing I was so riled with Rachel Lynde for saying at the Aid to-day.
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Anne's got plenty of faults, goodness knows, and far be it from me to deny it.
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"Perhaps you're judging her too hasty, Marilla.
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Don't call her untrustworthy until you're sure she has disobeyed you.
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Mebbe it can all be explained—Anne's a great hand at explaining."
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"She's not here when I told her to stay," retorted Marilla. "
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I reckon she'll find it hard to explain that to my satisfaction.
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Of course I knew you'd take her part, Matthew.
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But I'm bringing her up, not you."
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Marilla washed and put away the dishes grimly.
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"Mercy on us," said astonished Marilla, "have you been asleep, Anne?"
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"No," was the muffled reply.
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"Are you sick then?"
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demanded Marilla anxiously, going over to the bed.
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Anne cowered deeper into her pillows as if desirous of hiding herself for ever from mortal eyes.
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"No.
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But please, Marilla, go away and don't look at me.
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My career is closed.
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Please, Marilla, go away and don't look at me."
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"Did any one ever hear the like?"
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the mystified Marilla wanted to know.
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"Anne Shirley, whatever is the matter with you?
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What have you done?
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Get right up this minute and tell me.
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This minute, I say.
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There now, what is it?"
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Anne had slid to the floor in despairing obedience.
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"Look at my hair, Marilla," she whispered.
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It certainly had a very strange appearance.
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"Anne Shirley, what have you done to your hair?
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Why, it's green!"
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Never in all her life had Marilla seen anything so grotesque as Anne's hair at that moment.
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"Yes, it's green," moaned Anne.
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"I thought nothing could be as bad as red hair.
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But now I know it's ten times worse to have green hair.
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Oh, Marilla, you little know how utterly wretched I am."
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"I little know how you got into this fix, but I mean to find out," said Marilla.
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"Come right down to the kitchen—it's too cold up here—and tell me just what you've done.
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I've been expecting something queer for some time.
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You haven't got into any scrape for over two months, and I was sure another one was due.
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Now, then, what did you do to your hair?"
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"I dyed it."
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"Dyed it!
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Dyed your hair!
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Anne Shirley, didn't you know it was a wicked thing to do?"
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"Yes, I knew it was a little wicked," admitted Anne.
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"But I thought it was worth while to be a little wicked to get rid of red hair.
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I counted the cost, Marilla.
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Besides, I meant to be extra good in other ways to make up for it."
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I wouldn't have dyed it green."
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"But I didn't mean to dye it green, Marilla," protested Anne dejectedly.
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"If I was wicked I meant to be wicked to some purpose.
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He said it would turn my hair a beautiful raven black—he positively assured me that it would.
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How could I doubt his word, Marilla?
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I know what it feels like to have your word doubted.
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I have proof now—green hair is proof enough for anybody.
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But I hadn't then and I believed every word he said implicitly."
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"Who said?
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Who are you talking about?"
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"The pedlar that was here this afternoon.
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I bought the dye from him."
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"Anne Shirley, how often have I told you never to let one of those Italians in the house!
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I don't believe in encouraging them to come around at all."
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"Oh, I didn't let him in the house.
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Besides, he wasn't an Italian—he was a German Jew.
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He spoke so feelingly about them that it touched my heart.
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I wanted to buy something from him to help him in such a worthy object.
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unit 102
Then all at once I saw the bottle of hair dye.
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 5 months, 1 week ago
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The pedlar said it was warranted to dye any hair a beautiful raven black and wouldn't wash off.
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 5 months, 1 week ago
unit 104
In a trice I saw myself with beautiful raven black hair and the temptation was irresistible.
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And I've been repenting ever since."
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 5 months, 1 week ago
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I suppose the first thing is to give your hair a good washing and see if that will do any good."
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"Oh, Marilla, what shall I do?"
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 5 months, 1 week ago
unit 115
questioned Anne in tears.
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unit 116
"I can never live this down.
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But they'll never forget this.
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They will think I am not respectable.
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Oh, Marilla, 'what a tangled web we weave when first we practise to deceive.'
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That is poetry, but it is true.
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And oh, how Josie Pye will laugh!
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 5 months, 1 week ago
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Marilla, I cannot face Josie Pye.
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I am the unhappiest girl in Prince Edward Island."
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 5 months, 1 week ago
unit 125
Anne's unhappiness continued for a week.
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During that time she went nowhere and shampooed her hair every day.
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At the end of the week Marilla said decidedly: "It's no use, Anne.
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That is fast dye if ever there was any.
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Your hair must be cut off; there is no other way.
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You can't go out with it looking like that."
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Anne's lips quivered, but she realized the bitter truth of Marilla's remarks.
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With a dismal sigh she went for the scissors.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 5 months, 1 week ago
unit 134
"Please cut it off at once, Marilla, and have it over.
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unit 135
Oh, I feel that my heart is broken.
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This is such an unromantic affliction.
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I'm going to weep all the time you're cutting it off, if it won't interfere.
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It seems such a tragic thing."
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unit 143
The result was not becoming, to state the case as mildly as may be.
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Anne promptly turned her glass to the wall.
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"I'll never, never look at myself again until my hair grows," she exclaimed passionately.
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Then she suddenly righted the glass.
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"Yes, I will, too.
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I'd do penance for being wicked that way.
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unit 149
I'll look at myself every time I come to my room and see how ugly I am.
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And I won't try to imagine it away, either.
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I expect something will happen to my nose next."
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It's hard to be told you look like a scarecrow and I wanted to say something back.
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But I didn't.
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 5 months, 1 week ago
unit 157
I just swept her one scornful look and then I forgave her.
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unit 158
It makes you feel very virtuous when you forgive people, doesn't it?
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unit 160
Of course it's better to be good.
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I know it is, but it's sometimes so hard to believe a thing even when you know it.
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She says she thinks it will be very becoming.
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I will call it a snood—that sounds so romantic.
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But am I talking too much, Marilla?
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Does it hurt your head?"
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"My head is better now.
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unit 169
It was terrible bad this afternoon, though.
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These headaches of mine are getting worse and worse.
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I'll have to see a doctor about them.
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unit 172
As for your chatter, I don't know that I mind it—I've got so used to it."
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Which was Marilla's way of saying that she liked to hear it.
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kardaMom • 11758  commented on  unit 4  5 months, 1 week ago
Omega-I • 6036  commented on  unit 142  5 months, 1 week ago
kardaMom • 11758  translated  unit 1  5 months, 1 week ago
gaelle044 • 0  commented  5 months, 1 week ago

Update: Thank to Gaby and her watching the movie, we now know that:
1. Anne only use the formal form ("Sie") at the start, but later (we agreed for Chapter XI) she will say "du" to Marilla and Matthew, and the formal form with everybody else but her classmates. Marilla and Rachel are friends and they use "du".
2. She likes overstatements and superlatives.
3. We need to translate "green gables" as it is done in the movie.

Anne of Green Gables (1908)

Written for all ages, it has been considered a children's novel since the mid-twentieth century. It recounts the adventures of Anne Shirley, an 11-year-old orphan girl who is mistakenly sent to Matthew and Marilla Cuthbert, a middle-aged brother and sister who had intended to adopt a boy to help them on their farm in Prince Edward Island. The novel recounts how Anne makes her way with the Cuthberts, in school, and within the town. Since publication, Anne of Green Gables has sold more than 50 million copies and has been translated into 20 languages. It has been adapted as film, made-for-television movies, and animated and live-action television series. — Excerpted from Anne of Green Gables (1908) on Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.
https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Anne_of_Green_Gables_(1908)

by gaelle044 5 months, 1 week ago

CHAPTER XXVII.

VANITY AND VEXATION OF SPIRIT.

Marilla, walking home one late April evening from an Aid meeting, realized that the winter was over and gone with the thrill of delight that spring never fails to bring to the oldest and saddest as well as to the youngest and merriest. Marilla was not given to subjective analysis of her thoughts and feelings. She probably imagined that she was thinking about the Aids and their missionary box and the new carpet for the vestry-room, but under these reflections was a harmonious consciousness of red fields smoking into pale-purply mists in the declining sun, of long, sharp-pointed fir shadows falling over the meadow beyond the brook, of still, crimson-budded maples around a mirror-like wood-pool, of a wakening in the world and a stir of hidden pulses under the gray sod. The spring was abroad in the land and Marilla's sober, middle-aged step was lighter and swifter because of its deep, primal gladness.

Her eyes dwelt affectionately on Green Gables, peering through its network of trees and reflecting the sunlight back from its windows in several little coruscations of glory. Marilla, as she picked her steps along the damp lane, thought that it was really a satisfaction to know that she was going home to a briskly snapping wood fire and a table nicely spread for tea, instead of to the cold comfort of old Aid meeting evenings before Anne had come to Green Gables.

Consequently, when Marilla entered her kitchen and found the fire black out, with no sign of Anne anywhere, she felt justly disappointed and irritated. She had told Anne to be sure and have tea ready at five o'clock, but now she must hurry to take off her second-best dress and prepare the meal herself against Matthew's return from ploughing.

"I'll settle Miss Anne when she comes home," said Marilla grimly, as she shaved up kindlings with a carving knife and more vim than was strictly necessary. Matthew had come in and was waiting patiently for his tea in his corner. "She's gadding off somewhere with Diana, writing stories or practising dialogues or some such tomfoolery, and never thinking once about the time or her duties. She's just got to be pulled up short and sudden on this sort of thing. I don't care if Mrs. Allan does say she's the brightest and sweetest child she ever knew. She may be bright and sweet enough, but her head is full of nonsense and there's never any knowing what shape it'll break out in next. Just as soon as she grows out of one freak she takes up with another. But there! Here I am saying the very thing I was so riled with Rachel Lynde for saying at the Aid to-day. I was real glad when Mrs. Allan spoke up for Anne, for if she hadn't I know I'd have said something too sharp to Rachel before everybody. Anne's got plenty of faults, goodness knows, and far be it from me to deny it. But I'm bringing her up and not Rachel Lynde, who'd pick faults in the Angel Gabriel himself if he lived in Avonlea. Just the same, Anne has no business to leave the house like this when I told her she was to stay home this afternoon and look after things. I must say, with all her faults, I never found her disobedient or untrustworthy before and I'm real sorry to find her so now."

"Well now, I dunno," said Matthew, who, being patient and wise and, above all, hungry, had deemed it best to let Marilla talk her wrath out unhindered, having learned by experience that she got through with whatever work was on hand much quicker if not delayed by untimely argument. "Perhaps you're judging her too hasty, Marilla. Don't call her untrustworthy until you're sure she has disobeyed you. Mebbe it can all be explained—Anne's a great hand at explaining."

"She's not here when I told her to stay," retorted Marilla. " I reckon she'll find it hard to explain that to my satisfaction. Of course I knew you'd take her part, Matthew. But I'm bringing her up, not you."

It was dark when supper was ready, and still no sign of Anne, coming hurriedly over the log bridge or up Lovers' Lane, breathless and repentant with a sense of neglected duties. Marilla washed and put away the dishes grimly. Then, wanting a candle to light her down cellar, she went up to the east gable for the one that generally stood on Anne's table. Lighting it, she turned around to see Anne herself lying on the bed, face downward among the pillows.

"Mercy on us," said astonished Marilla, "have you been asleep, Anne?"

"No," was the muffled reply.

"Are you sick then?" demanded Marilla anxiously, going over to the bed.

Anne cowered deeper into her pillows as if desirous of hiding herself for ever from mortal eyes.

"No. But please, Marilla, go away and don't look at me. I'm in the depths of despair and I don't care who gets head in class or writes the best composition or sings in the Sunday-school choir any more. Little things like that are of no importance now because I don't suppose I'll ever be able to go anywhere again. My career is closed. Please, Marilla, go away and don't look at me."

"Did any one ever hear the like?" the mystified Marilla wanted to know. "Anne Shirley, whatever is the matter with you? What have you done? Get right up this minute and tell me. This minute, I say. There now, what is it?"

Anne had slid to the floor in despairing obedience.

"Look at my hair, Marilla," she whispered.

Accordingly, Marilla lifted her candle and looked scrutinizingly at Anne's hair, flowing in heavy masses down her back. It certainly had a very strange appearance.

"Anne Shirley, what have you done to your hair? Why, it's green!"

Green it might be called, if it were any earthly colour—a queer, dull, bronzy green, with streaks here and there of the original red to heighten the ghastly effect. Never in all her life had Marilla seen anything so grotesque as Anne's hair at that moment.

"Yes, it's green," moaned Anne. "I thought nothing could be as bad as red hair. But now I know it's ten times worse to have green hair. Oh, Marilla, you little know how utterly wretched I am."

"I little know how you got into this fix, but I mean to find out," said Marilla. "Come right down to the kitchen—it's too cold up here—and tell me just what you've done. I've been expecting something queer for some time. You haven't got into any scrape for over two months, and I was sure another one was due. Now, then, what did you do to your hair?"

"I dyed it."

"Dyed it! Dyed your hair! Anne Shirley, didn't you know it was a wicked thing to do?"

"Yes, I knew it was a little wicked," admitted Anne. "But I thought it was worth while to be a little wicked to get rid of red hair. I counted the cost, Marilla. Besides, I meant to be extra good in other ways to make up for it."

"Well," said Marilla sarcastically, "if I'd decided it was worth while to dye my hair I'd have dyed it a decent colour at least. I wouldn't have dyed it green."

"But I didn't mean to dye it green, Marilla," protested Anne dejectedly. "If I was wicked I meant to be wicked to some purpose. He said it would turn my hair a beautiful raven black—he positively assured me that it would. How could I doubt his word, Marilla? I know what it feels like to have your word doubted. And Mrs. Allan says we should never suspect any one of not telling us the truth unless we have proof that they're not. I have proof now—green hair is proof enough for anybody. But I hadn't then and I believed every word he said implicitly."

"Who said? Who are you talking about?"

"The pedlar that was here this afternoon. I bought the dye from him."

"Anne Shirley, how often have I told you never to let one of those Italians in the house! I don't believe in encouraging them to come around at all."

"Oh, I didn't let him in the house. I remembered what you told me, and I went out, carefully shut the door, and looked at his things on the step. Besides, he wasn't an Italian—he was a German Jew. He had a big box full of very interesting things and he told me he was working hard to make enough money to bring his wife and children out from Germany. He spoke so feelingly about them that it touched my heart. I wanted to buy something from him to help him in such a worthy object. Then all at once I saw the bottle of hair dye. The pedlar said it was warranted to dye any hair a beautiful raven black and wouldn't wash off. In a trice I saw myself with beautiful raven black hair and the temptation was irresistible. But the price of the bottle was seventy-five cents and I had only fifty cents left out of my chicken money. I think the pedlar had a very kind heart, for he said that, seeing it was me, he'd sell it for fifty cents and that was just giving it away. So I bought it, and as soon as he had gone I came up here and applied it with an old hair-brush as the directions said. I used up the whole bottle, and oh, Marilla, when I saw the dreadful colour it turned my hair I repented of being wicked, I can tell you. And I've been repenting ever since."

"Well, I hope you'll repent to good purpose," said Marilla severely, "and that you've got your eyes opened to where your vanity has led you, Anne, Goodness knows what's to be done. I suppose the first thing is to give your hair a good washing and see if that will do any good."

Accordingly, Anne washed her hair, scrubbing it vigorously with soap and water, but for all the difference it made she might as well have been scouring its original red. The pedlar had certainly spoken the truth when he declared that the dye wouldn't wash off, however his veracity might be impeached in other respects.

"Oh, Marilla, what shall I do?" questioned Anne in tears. "I can never live this down. People have pretty well forgotten my other mistakes—the liniment cake and setting Diana drunk and flying into a temper with Mrs. Lynde. But they'll never forget this. They will think I am not respectable. Oh, Marilla, 'what a tangled web we weave when first we practise to deceive.' That is poetry, but it is true. And oh, how Josie Pye will laugh! Marilla, I cannot face Josie Pye. I am the unhappiest girl in Prince Edward Island."

Anne's unhappiness continued for a week. During that time she went nowhere and shampooed her hair every day. Diana alone of outsiders knew the fatal secret, but she promised solemnly never to tell, and it may be stated here and now that she kept her word. At the end of the week Marilla said decidedly:

"It's no use, Anne. That is fast dye if ever there was any. Your hair must be cut off; there is no other way. You can't go out with it looking like that."

Anne's lips quivered, but she realized the bitter truth of Marilla's remarks. With a dismal sigh she went for the scissors.

"Please cut it off at once, Marilla, and have it over. Oh, I feel that my heart is broken. This is such an unromantic affliction. The girls in books lose their hair in fevers or sell it to get money for some good deed, and I'm sure I wouldn't mind losing my hair in some such fashion half so much. But there is nothing comforting in having your hair cut off because you've dyed it a dreadful colour, is there? I'm going to weep all the time you're cutting it off, if it won't interfere. It seems such a tragic thing."

Anne wept then, but later on, when she went up-stairs and looked in the glass, she was calm with despair. Marilla had done her work thoroughly and it had been necessary to shingle the hair as closely as possible. The result was not becoming, to state the case as mildly as may be. Anne promptly turned her glass to the wall.

"I'll never, never look at myself again until my hair grows," she exclaimed passionately.

Then she suddenly righted the glass.

"Yes, I will, too. I'd do penance for being wicked that way. I'll look at myself every time I come to my room and see how ugly I am. And I won't try to imagine it away, either. I never thought I was vain about my hair, of all things, but now I know I was, in spite of its being red, because it was so long and thick and curly. I expect something will happen to my nose next."

Anne's clipped head made a sensation in school on the following Monday, but to her relief nobody guessed the real reason for it, not even Josie Pye, who, however, did not fail to inform Anne that she looked like a perfect scarecrow.

"I didn't say anything when Josie said that to me," Anne confided that evening to Marilla, who was lying on the sofa after one of her headaches, " because I thought it was part of my punishment and I ought to bear it patiently. It's hard to be told you look like a scarecrow and I wanted to say something back. But I didn't. I just swept her one scornful look and then I forgave her. It makes you feel very virtuous when you forgive people, doesn't it? I mean to devote all my energies to being good after this and I shall never try to be beautiful again. Of course it's better to be good. I know it is, but it's sometimes so hard to believe a thing even when you know it. I do really want to be good, Marilla, like you and Mrs. Allan and Miss Stacy, and grow up to be a credit to you. Diana says when my hair begins to grow to tie a black velvet ribbon around my head with a bow at one side. She says she thinks it will be very becoming. I will call it a snood—that sounds so romantic. But am I talking too much, Marilla? Does it hurt your head?"

"My head is better now. It was terrible bad this afternoon, though. These headaches of mine are getting worse and worse. I'll have to see a doctor about them. As for your chatter, I don't know that I mind it—I've got so used to it."

Which was Marilla's way of saying that she liked to hear it.