en-de  Anne of Green Gables /Chapter XX Medium
Kapitel 20


EINE GUTE VORSTELLUNG GING SCHIEF


Der Frühling kam erneut nach Green Gables - der wunderschöne, launische, zögernde kanadische Frühling, andauernd zwischen April und Mai in einer Abfolge von süßen, frischen, kalten Tagen, mit rosaroten Sonnenuntergängen und den Wundern des Wiedererwachens und des Wachstums. Die Ahornbäume in Lover's Lane waren voller roter Knospen und kleine gekräuselte Farne schoben sich rund um Dryad's Bubble nach oben. Oben im Brachland hinter Mr. Silas Sloanes Haus blühten die Maiblumen auf, liebliche rosa und weiße Sterne unter ihren braunen Blättern. Alle Schulmädchen und Schuljungen pflückten sie an einem goldenen Nachmittag und kamen in der klaren hallenden Dämmerung mit Armen und Körben voller Ausbeute nach Hause.

"Mir tun Menschen leid, die in Ländern leben, wo es keine Maiblumen gibt", sagte Anne. "Diana sagt, vielleicht haben sie was Besseres, aber könnte irgendwas besser sein als Maiblumen, könnte das sein, Marilla? Und Diana sagt, wenn sie nicht wissen, wie sie sind, dann vermissen sie sie nicht. Aber ich glaube, das ist die traurigste Sache überhaupt. Ich glaube, es wäre tragisch, Marilla, nicht zu wissen, was Maiblumen sind und sie nicht zu vermissen. Weißt du, wofür ich Maiblumen halte, Marilla? Ich glaube, sie müssen die Seelen der Blumen sein, die letzten Sommer starben und dies ist ihr Himmel. Aber wir hatten heute eine herrliche Zeit, Marilla. Wir hatten heute unser Mittagessen unten in einer großen, moosigen Höhle eines alten Brunnens - solch ein romantischer Fleck. Charlie Sloane forderte Arty Gillis auf, darüber zu springen und Arty tat es, weil er sich bei einer Mutprobe nicht schlagen lassen würde. Niemand würde es in der Schule. Es ist sehr modern, Mut zu haben. Mr. Phillips gab alle Maiblumen, die er fand, Prissy Andrews und ich hörte ihn sagen: 'Süßes zum Süßen.' Er hatte das aus einem Buch, das ich kenne; aber es zeigt, dass er etwas Fantasie hat. Mir wurden auch einge Maiblumen angeboten, aber ich lehnte sie mit Verachtung ab. Ich kann dir den Namen der Person nicht nennen, weil ich geschworen habe, ihn niemals über meine Lippen zu bringen. Wir banden Kränze aus den Maiblumen und taten sie auf unsere Hüte; und als es Zeit war, nach Hause zu gehe, marschierten wir in einer Prozession in Zweiergruppen mit unseren Sträußen und Kränzen die Straße entlang und sangen "My home on the Hill". Oh, es war so aufregend, Marilla. Alle Leute von Mr. Silas Sloanes stürzten nach draußen, um uns zu sehen und jeder, den wir auf der Straße trafen, hielt an und starrte hinter uns her. Wir erregten wirklich Aufsehen."

"Kein Wunder! Solch albernes Verhalten!" war Marillas Erwiderung.

Nach den Maiblumen kamen die Veilchen, und Violet Vale war von ihnen violett gefärbt. Auf ihrem Weg zur Schule ging Anne mit ehrfürchtigen Schritten und verehrenden Augen hindurch, als ob sie auf heiligem Boden schreite.

"Irgendwie", erzählte sie Diana," kümmert es mich nicht wirklich, ob Gil - ob irgendjemand mich in der Klasse überflügelt oder nicht, wenn ich hier durch gehe. Aber wenn ich in der Schule bin, ist es alles anders und es macht mir etwas aus wie immer. Es gibt so viele verschiedene Annen in mir. Ich denke manchmal, dass es das ist, warum ich eine solch problematische Person bin. Wenn ich nur die eine Anne wäre, würde es immer so viel angenehmer sein, aber nicht halb so interessant."

An einem Juniabend, als die Obstgärten wieder rosarote Blüten trugen, als die Frösche silbersüß in den Sümpfen am Kopf des Sees der glänzenden Wasser sangen und die Luft erfüllt war vom Duft der Kleefelder und der Balsamtannenwälder, saß Anne an ihrem Giebelfenster. Sie hatte ihre Hausaufgaben gemacht, aber es war zu dunkel, um das Buch zu sehen, so war sie mit offenen Augen in eine Träumerei gefallen und schaute hinaus, vorbei an der Passionsblume, die wieder einmal voller Sterne war mit ihren Blütenbüscheln.

In jeder wesentlichen Hinsicht war das Giebelzimmer unverändert. Die Wände waren so weiß, das Nadelkissen so hart, die Sühle so steif und gelblich aufrecht wie immer. Dennoch hatte sich der ganze Charakter der Raumes geändert. Er war voll von einer vitalen, pulsierenden Persönlichkeit, die ihn zu überfluten schien und unabhängig war von Schulmädchenbüchern, Kleidern, Bändern und sogar von dem gesprungenen blauen Krug voller Apfelblüten auf dem Tisch. Es war, als hätten alle Schlaf- und Wachträume ihrer lebhaften Bewohnerin eine sichtbare, wenn auch immaterielle Form angenommen und den kahlen Raum mit herrlichen, filigranen Geweben aus Regenbogen und Mondschein bezogen. Bald kam Marilla mit einigen von Annes frisch gebügelten Schulschürzen energisch herein. Sie hing sie über einen Stuhl und setzte sich mit einem kurzen Seufzer. Sie hatte an diesem Nachmittag einen ihrer Kopfschmerzen gehabt, und obwohl der Schmerz abgeklungen war, fühlte sie sich schwach und "fix und fertig", wie sie es ausdrückte. Anne guckte sie mit klaren Augen voll Mitgefühl an.

"Ich wünschte wirklich, ich hätte die Kopfschmerzen an deiner Stelle gehabt, Marilla. Ich hätte sie dir zuliebe freudig ertragen."

"Ich schätze, du hast deinen Teil beigetragen, indem du die Arbeit erledigt und mich ausruhen gelassen hast", sagte Marilla. "Du scheinst ziemlich gut zurechtgekommen zu sein und hast weniger Fehler gemacht, als normalerweise. Natürlich war es eigentlich nicht nötig, Matthews Taschentücher zu stärken! Und die meisten Leute, wenn sie eine Pastete in den Ofen tun, um sie für das Essen aufzuwärmen, nehmen sie heraus und essen sie, wenn sie heiß geworden ist, anstatt sie dort zu belassen, bis sie zu einem Kräcker verbrannt ist. Aber das scheint offenbar nicht deine Methode zu sein."

Kopfschmerzen ließen Marilla immer irgendwie sarkastisch werden.

"Oh, es tut mir so leid", sagte Anne reumütig. "Ich habe nie an diese Pastete gedacht, von dem Moment an, als ich sie in den Ofen stellte, bis jetzt, obwohl ich instinktiv fühlte, dass da etwas auf dem Esstisch fehlte. Ich war fest entschlossen, als du mir heute Morgen die Verantwortung überließest, mir nichts auszumalen, sondern meine Gedanken auf die Tatsachen zu beschränken. Ich machte es ziemlich gut, bis ich die Pastete hineinlegte, und dann kam eine unwiderstehliche Versuchung über mich, mir vorzustellen, ich wäre eine verwunschene Prinzessin, die in einem abgelegenen Turm eingesperrt war, mit einem schönen Ritter, der zu meiner Rettung auf einem kohlschwarzen Ross reitet. So kam es, dass ich die Pastete vergessen habe. Ich wusste nicht, dass ich die Taschentücher gestärkt habe. Die ganze Zeit, die ich bügelte, versuchte ich mir einen Namen für eine neue Insel auszudenken, die Diana und ich im oberen Teil des Baches entdeckt haben. Es ist die hinreißendste Gegend, Marilla. Darauf sind zwei Ahornbäume und der Bach fließt genau rund herum. Zuletzt fiel mir auf, dass es großartig wäre, sie Victoriainsel zu nennen, weil wir sie am Geburtstag der Queen fanden. Diana und ich sind beide sehr treu ergeben. Aber über diese Pie und die Taschentücher bin ich sehr betrübt. Ich wollte heute besonders gut sein, weil es ein Jahrestag ist. Erinnerst du dich, was heute vor einem Jahr passierte, Marilla?"

"Nein, mir fällt nichts Besonderes ein."

"Oh, Marilla, es war der Tag, als ich nach Green Gables kam. Ich werde es niemals vergessen. Es war der Wendepunkt in meinem Leben. Natürlich scheint es für dich nicht so wichtig zu sein. Ich bin seit einem Jahr hier und ich bin so glücklich gewesen. Natürlich hatte ich meine Probleme, aber man kann Probleme überwinden. Tut es dir leid, mich hier behalten zu haben, Marilla?"

"Nein, ich kann nicht sagen, dass es mir leid tut", sagte Marilla, die sich manchmal fragte, wie sie leben konnte, bevor Anne nach Green Gables kam, " nein, es tut mir wirklich nicht leid. Wenn du deine Aufgaben beendet hast, Anne, möchte ich gerne, dass du zu Mrs. Barry rübergehst und sie fragst, ob sie mir Dianas Schürzenmuster leihen wird."

"Oh - es ist - es ist zu dunkel", rief Anne.

"Zu dunkel? Na, es ist nur Abenddämmerung. Und der Himmel weiß, dass du oft genug nach Einbruch der Dunkelheit rübergegangen bist."

"Ich werde früh am Morgen rübergehen", sagte Anne bereitwillig. "Ich stehe bei Sonnenaufgang auf und gehe hinüber, Marilla."

"Was ist dir jetzt in den Kopf gefahren, Anne Shirley? Ich möchte das Schnittmuster, um deine neue Schürze heute Abend auszuschneiden. Geh sofort und sei auch schnell."

"Ich muss dann über die Straße gehen", sagte Anne und nahm widerwillig ihren Hut.

"Geh über die Straße und verschwende eine halbe Stunde! Ich würde dich gerne verstehen!"

"Ich kann nicht durch den Geisterwald gehen, Marilla", rief Anne verzweifelt.

Marilla machte große Augen.

"Der Spukwald! Bist du verrückt? Was um Himmels Willen ist der Geisterwald?"

"Der Fichtenwald hinter dem Bach", sagte Anne mit einem Flüstern.

"Papperlapapp! Es gibt nirgendwo so etwas wie einen Geisterwald. Wer hat dir so einen Unfug erzählt?"

"Niemand", bekannte Anne. "Diana und ich stellten uns nur vor, im Wald würde es spuken. Alle Orte hier sind so - so - gewöhnlich. Wir stellten das nur zu unserem eigenen Vergnügen auf die Beine. Wir haben es im April angefangen. Ein Gespensterwald ist so hochromantisch, Marilla. Wir haben den Fichtenwald gewählt, weil er so düster ist. Oh, wir haben uns die grauenhaftesten Dinge vorgestellt. Da geht gerade zu dieser Nachtzeit eine weiße Dame den Bach entlang und ringt ihre Hände und stößt wimmernde Rufe aus. Sie erscheint, wenn es in der Familie einen Tod geben wird. Und der Geist eines kleinen, ermordeten Kindes spukt in der Ecke von Idlewild; er schleicht hinter dich und legt seine kalten Finger auf deine Hand - so. Oh Marilla, daran zu denken lässt mich schauern. Und es gibt einen kopflosen Mann, der auf dem Weg auf und ab stolziert und Skelette blicken finster zwischen dem Geäst auf dich. Oh Marilla, um nichts in der Welt würde ich jetzt nach Einbruch der Dunkelheit durch den Geisterwald gehen. Ich wäre mir sicher, dass weiße Dinge hinter den Bäumen die Hände ausstrecken und mich packen würden."

"Hat irgendjemand jemals so etwas Ähnliches gehört!" stieß Marilla aus, die in sprachlosem Erstaunen zugehört hatte. "Anne Shirley, willst du mir damit sagen, dass du all diesen üblen Unsinn deiner eigenen Einbildung glaubst?"

"Ich glaube es nicht haargenau", zögerte Anne. "Zumindest glaube ich es bei Tageslicht nicht. Aber nach Einbruch der Dunkelheit, Marilla, ist es anders. Also, wenn Geister umgehen."

"Es gibt solche Dinge wie Geister nicht, Anne."

"Oh, aber es gibt sie, Marilla", rief Anne gespannt. "Ich kenne Leute, die sie gesehen haben. Und es sind angesehene Leute. Charlie Sloane sagt, dass seine Großmutter gesehen hat, wie sein Großvater die Kühe nach Hause getrieben hat, ein Jahr nach seinem Begräbnis. Du weißt, dass Charlie Sloanes Großmutter um keinen Preis ein Märchen erzählen würde. Sie ist eine sehr religiöse Frau. Und der Vater von Mrs. Thomas wurde eines Nachts zu Hause von einem Feuerlamm verfolgt, dessen abgeschnittener Kopf an einem Streifen Haut hing. Er sagte, er wusste, dass es der Geist seines Bruder war und dass es eine Warnung war, dass er innerhalb von neun Tagen sterben würde. Er tat es nicht, aber er starb zwei Jahre später, daher siehst du, dass es wirklich wahr war. Und Ruby Gillis sagt - " "Anne Shirley", unterbrach Marilla bestimmt, "Ich möchte dich nie mehr wieder auf diese Weise reden hören. Ich hatte meine Zweifel an dieser Vorstellungskraft von dir und wenn dies das Ergebnis davon ist, werde ich solches Tun nicht billigen. Du wirst rüber zu den Barrys gehen und du wirst durch diesen Fichtenhain gehen, einfach als Lehre und Warnung für dich. Und lass mich nie mehr wieder ein Hirngespinst von dir über Gespensterwälder hören."

Anne konnte bitten und weinen, wie sie wollte, - und das tat sie, weil ihr Schrecken sehr echt war, Ihre Fantasie war mit ihr durchgegangen und sie hielt den Fichtenhain nach Einbruch der Dunkelheit für einen tödlichen Schrecken. Aber Marilla war erbarmungslos. Sie ging mit der zurückweichenden Geisterseherin runter zur Quelle und wies sie an, geradeaus über die Brücke zu gehen, hinein in das düstere Refugium von heulenden Damen und kopflosen Gespenstern dahinter.

"Oh Marilla, wie kannst du so grausam sein?" schluchzte Anne. "Wie würdest du dich fühlen, wenn ein weißes Ding mich an sich gerissen und weggeschleppt hätte?"

"Das Risiko gehe ich ein", sagte Marilla ungerührt. "Du weißt, dass ich immer meine, was ich sage. Ich werde dich davon heilen, Gespenster in Orte zu fantasieren. Marsch jetzt."

Anne marschierte los. Das hieß, sie stolperte über die Brücke und ging schaudernd auf dem schrecklichen, dunklen Weg dahinter. Anne vergaß diesen Fußmarsch niemals. Sie bereute bitterlich den freien Lauf, den sie ihrer Vorstellungskraft gelassen hatte. Die Kobolde ihrer Einbildungskraft lauerten in jedem Schatten um sie herum, griffen mit ihren kalten, fleischlosen Händen nach dem kleinen panischen Mädchen, das sie erschaffen hatte. Ein weißer Streifen Birkenrinde, der aus einer Mulde im braunen Boden des Gehölzes hochgeweht wurde, ließ ihr Herz still stehen. Der langgezogene Heulton zweier alter Äste, die aneinander scheuerten, ließ den Schweiß in Perlen auf ihrer Stirn hervortreten. Das Herabstoßen von Fledermäusen in der Dunkelheit über ihr glich den Flügeln überirdischer Lebewesen. Als sie das Feld von Mr. William Bell erreichte, entfloh sie wie von einer Armee weißer Wesen verfolgt, und kam so außer Atem an der Barry-Küchentür an, dass sie ihre Bitte nach dem Schürzenschnittmuster kaum hevorstoßen konnte. Diana war nicht da, so dass sie keine Entschuldigung hatte, zu bleiben. Der fürchterliche Rückweg musste bewältigt werden. Anne went back over it with shut eyes, preferring to take the risk of dashing her brains out among the boughs to that of seeing a white thing. Als sie schließlich über die Baumstammbrücke stolperte, nahm sie einen langen, zitternden Atemzug der Erleichterung.

"Nun, also hat dich nichts erwischt?" sagte Marilla ungerührt.

"Oh, Mar-Marilla", klapperte Anne, " hiernach werde ich mich mit ge-ge-wöhnlichen Orten zu-zu-zufrieden ge-geben."
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CHAPTER XX.
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A GOOD IMAGINATION GONE WRONG.
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"I'm so sorry for people who live in lands where there are no Mayflowers," said Anne.
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And Diana says if they don't know what they are like they don't miss them.
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But I think that is the saddest thing of all.
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I think it would be tragic, Marilla, not to know what Mayflowers are like and not to miss them.
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Do you know what I think Mayflowers are, Marilla?
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I think they must be the souls of the flowers that died last summer and this is their heaven.
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But we had a splendid time to-day, Marilla.
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We had our lunch down in a big mossy hollow by an old well—such a romantic spot.
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Charlie Sloane dared Arty Gillis to jump over it, and Arty did because he wouldn't take a dare.
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Nobody would in school.
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It is very fashionable to dare.
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He got that out of a book, I know; but it shows he has some imagination.
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I was offered some Mayflowers too, but I rejected them with scorn.
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I can't tell you the person's name because I have vowed never to let it cross my lips.
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Oh, it was so thrilling, Marilla.
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We made a real sensation."
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"Not much wonder!
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Such silly doings!"
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was Manila's response.
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After the Mayflowers came the violets, and Violet Vale was empurpled with them.
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But when I'm up in school it's all different and I care as much as ever.
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There's such a lot of different Annes in me.
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I sometimes think that is why I'm such a troublesome person.
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In all essential respects the little gable chamber was unchanged.
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Yet the whole character of the room was altered.
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Presently Marilla came briskly in with some of Anne's freshly ironed school aprons.
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She hung them over a chair and sat down with a short sigh.
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Anne looked at her with eyes limpid with sympathy.
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"I do truly wish I could have had the headache in your place, Marilla.
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I would have endured it joyfully for your sake."
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"I guess you did your part in attending to the work and letting me rest," said Marilla.
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"You seem to have got on fairly well and made fewer mistakes than usual.
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Of course it wasn't exactly necessary to starch Matthew's handkerchiefs!
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But that doesn't seem to be your way evidently."
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Headaches always left Marilla somewhat sarcastic.
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"Oh, I'm so sorry," said Anne penitently.
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So that is how I came to forget the pie.
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I didn't know I starched the handkerchiefs.
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It's the most ravishing spot, Marilla.
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There are two maple-trees on it and the brook flows right around it.
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Both Diana and I are very loyal.
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But I'm very sorry about that pie and the handkerchiefs.
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I wanted to be extra good to-day because it's an anniversary.
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Do you remember what happened this day last year, Marilla?"
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"No, I can't think of anything special."
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"Oh, Marilla, it was the day I came to Green Gables.
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I shall never forget it.
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It was the turning-point in my life.
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Of course it wouldn't seem so important to you.
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I've been here for a year and I've been so happy.
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Of course, I've had my troubles, but one can live down troubles.
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Are you sorry you kept me, Marilla?"
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"Oh—it's—it's too dark," cried Anne.
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"Too dark?
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Why, it's only twilight.
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And goodness knows you've gone over often enough after dark."
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"I'll go over early in the morning," said Anne eagerly.
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"I'll get up at sunrise and go over, Marilla."
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"What has got into your head now, Anne Shirley?
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I want that pattern to cut out your new apron this evening.
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Go at once and be smart, too."
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"I'lll have to go around by the road, then," said Anne, taking up her hat reluctantly.
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"Go by the road and waste half an hour!
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I'd like to catch you!"
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"I can't go through the Haunted Wood, Marilla," cried Anne desperately.
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Marilla stared.
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"The Haunted Wood!
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Are you crazy?
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What under the canopy is the Haunted Wood?"
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"The spruce wood over the brook," said Anne in a whisper.
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"Fiddlesticks!
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There is no such thing as a haunted wood anywhere.
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Who has been telling you such stuff?"
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"Nobody," confessed Anne.
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"Diana and I just imagined the wood was haunted.
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All the places around here are so—so—commonplace.
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We just got this up for our own amusement.
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We began it in April.
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A haunted wood is so very romantic, Marilla.
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We chose the spruce grove because it's so gloomy.
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Oh, we have imagined the most harrowing things.
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She appears when there is to be a death in the family.
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Oh, Marilla, it gives me a shudder to think of it.
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Oh, Marilla, I wouldn't go through the Haunted Wood after dark now for anything.
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I'd be sure that white things would reach out from behind the trees and grab me."
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unit 116
"Did ever any one hear the like!"
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ejaculated Marilla, who had listened in dumb amazement.
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unit 119
"Not believe exactly," faltered Anne.
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"At least, I don't believe it in daylight.
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But after dark, Marilla, it's different.
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That is when ghosts walk."
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unit 123
"There are no such things as ghosts, Anne."
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unit 124
"Oh, but there are, Marilla," cried Anne eagerly.
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unit 125
"I know people who have seen them.
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And they are respectable people.
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You know Charlie Sloane's grandmother wouldn't tell a story for anything.
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She's a very religious woman.
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unit 132
He didn't, but he died two years after, so you see it was really true.
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And never let me hear a word out of your head about haunted woods again."
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Anne might plead and cry as she liked—and did, for her terror was very real.
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Her imagination had run away with her and she held the spruce grove in mortal dread after nightfall.
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But Marilla was inexorable.
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unit 141
"Oh, Marilla, how can you be so cruel?"
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unit 142
sobbed Anne.
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"What would you feel like if a white thing did snatch me up and carry me off?"
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unit 144
"I'll risk it," said Marilla unfeelingly.
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unit 145
"You know I always mean what I say.
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I'll cure you of imagining ghosts into places.
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March, now."
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Anne marched.
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That is, she stumbled over the bridge and went shuddering up the horrible dim path beyond.
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Anne never forgot that walk.
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unit 151
Bitterly did she repent the license she had given to her imagination.
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unit 155
The swoop of bats in the darkness over her was as the wings of unearthly creatures.
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unit 157
Diana was away so that she had no excuse to linger.
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unit 158
The dreadful return journey had to be faced.
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unit 160
When she finally stumbled over the log bridge she drew one long shivering breath of relief.
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unit 161
"Well, so nothing caught you?"
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unit 162
said Marilla unsympathetically.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 7 months, 2 weeks ago
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gaelle044 • 0  commented  7 months, 2 weeks 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 7 months, 2 weeks ago

CHAPTER XX.

A GOOD IMAGINATION GONE WRONG.

Spring had come once more to Green Gables—the beautiful, capricious, reluctant Canadian spring, lingering along through April and May in a succession of sweet, fresh, chilly days, with pink sunsets and miracles of resurrection and growth. The maples in Lovers' Lane were red-budded and little curly ferns pushed up around the Dryad's Bubble. Away up in the barrens, behind Mr. Silas Sloane's place, the Mayflowers blossomed out, pink and white stars of sweetness under their brown leaves. All the school girls and boys had one golden afternoon gathering them, coming home in the clear, echoing twilight with arms and baskets full of flowery spoil.

"I'm so sorry for people who live in lands where there are no Mayflowers," said Anne. "Diana says perhaps they have something better, but there couldn't be anything better than Mayflowers, could there, Marilla? And Diana says if they don't know what they are like they don't miss them. But I think that is the saddest thing of all. I think it would be tragic, Marilla, not to know what Mayflowers are like and not to miss them. Do you know what I think Mayflowers are, Marilla? I think they must be the souls of the flowers that died last summer and this is their heaven. But we had a splendid time to-day, Marilla. We had our lunch down in a big mossy hollow by an old well—such a romantic spot. Charlie Sloane dared Arty Gillis to jump over it, and Arty did because he wouldn't take a dare. Nobody would in school. It is very fashionable to dare. Mr. Phillips gave all the Mayflowers he found to Prissy Andrews and I heard him say 'sweets to the sweet.' He got that out of a book, I know; but it shows he has some imagination. I was offered some Mayflowers too, but I rejected them with scorn. I can't tell you the person's name because I have vowed never to let it cross my lips. We made wreaths of the Mayflowers and put them on our hats; and when the time came to go home we marched in procession down the road, two by two, with our bouquets and wreaths, singing 'My Home on the Hill.' Oh, it was so thrilling, Marilla. All Mr. Silas Sloane's folks rushed out to see us and everybody we met on the road stopped and stared after us. We made a real sensation."

"Not much wonder! Such silly doings!" was Manila's response.

After the Mayflowers came the violets, and Violet Vale was empurpled with them. Anne walked through it on her way to school with reverent steps and worshipping eyes, as if she trod on holy ground.

"Somehow," she told Diana, "when I'm going through here I don't really care whether Gil— whether anybody gets ahead of me in class or not. But when I'm up in school it's all different and I care as much as ever. There's such a lot of different Annes in me. I sometimes think that is why I'm such a troublesome person. If I was just the one Anne it would be ever so much more comfortable, but then it wouldn't be half so interesting."

One June evening, when the orchards were pink-blossomed again, when the frogs were singing silverly sweet in the marshes about the head of the Lake of Shining Waters, and the air was full of the savour of clover fields and balsamic fir woods, Anne was sitting by her gable window. She had been studying her lessons, but it had grown too dark to see the book, so she had fallen into wide-eyed reverie, looking out past the boughs of the Snow Queen, once more bestarred with its tufts of blossom.

In all essential respects the little gable chamber was unchanged. The walls were as white, the pincushion as hard, the chairs as stiffly and yellowly upright as ever. Yet the whole character of the room was altered. It was full of a new vital, pulsing personality that seemed to pervade it and to be quite independent of schoolgirl books and dresses and ribbons, and even of the cracked blue jug full of apple blossoms on the table. It was as if all the dreams, sleeping and waking, of its vivid occupant had taken a visible although immaterial form and had tapestried the bare room with splendid filmy tissues of rainbow and moonshine. Presently Marilla came briskly in with some of Anne's freshly ironed school aprons. She hung them over a chair and sat down with a short sigh. She had had one of her headaches that afternoon, and although the pain had gone she felt weak and "tuckered out," as she expressed it. Anne looked at her with eyes limpid with sympathy.

"I do truly wish I could have had the headache in your place, Marilla. I would have endured it joyfully for your sake."

"I guess you did your part in attending to the work and letting me rest," said Marilla. "You seem to have got on fairly well and made fewer mistakes than usual. Of course it wasn't exactly necessary to starch Matthew's handkerchiefs! And most people when they put a pie in the oven to warm up for dinner take it out and eat it when it gets hot instead of leaving it to be burned to a crisp. But that doesn't seem to be your way evidently."

Headaches always left Marilla somewhat sarcastic.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," said Anne penitently. "I never thought about that pie from the moment I put it in the oven till now, although I felt instinctively that there was something missing on the dinner table. I was firmly resolved, when you left me in charge this morning, not to imagine anything, but keep my thoughts on facts. I did pretty well until I put the pie in, and then an irresistible temptation came to me to imagine I was an enchanted princess shut up in a lonely tower with a handsome knight riding to my rescue on a coal-black steed. So that is how I came to forget the pie. I didn't know I starched the handkerchiefs. All the time I was ironing I was trying to think of a name for a new island Diana and I have discovered up the brook. It's the most ravishing spot, Marilla. There are two maple-trees on it and the brook flows right around it. At last it struck me that it would be splendid to call it Victoria Island because we found it on the Queen's birthday. Both Diana and I are very loyal. But I'm very sorry about that pie and the handkerchiefs. I wanted to be extra good to-day because it's an anniversary. Do you remember what happened this day last year, Marilla?"

"No, I can't think of anything special."

"Oh, Marilla, it was the day I came to Green Gables. I shall never forget it. It was the turning-point in my life. Of course it wouldn't seem so important to you. I've been here for a year and I've been so happy. Of course, I've had my troubles, but one can live down troubles. Are you sorry you kept me, Marilla?"

"No, I can't say I'm sorry," said Marilla, who sometimes wondered how she could have lived before Anne came to Green Gables, "no, not exactly sorry. If you've finished your lessons, Anne, I want you to run over and ask Mrs. Barry if she'll lend me Diana's apron pattern."

"Oh—it's—it's too dark," cried Anne.

"Too dark? Why, it's only twilight. And goodness knows you've gone over often enough after dark."

"I'll go over early in the morning," said Anne eagerly. "I'll get up at sunrise and go over, Marilla."

"What has got into your head now, Anne Shirley? I want that pattern to cut out your new apron this evening. Go at once and be smart, too."

"I'lll have to go around by the road, then," said Anne, taking up her hat reluctantly.

"Go by the road and waste half an hour! I'd like to catch you!"

"I can't go through the Haunted Wood, Marilla," cried Anne desperately.

Marilla stared.

"The Haunted Wood! Are you crazy? What under the canopy is the Haunted Wood?"

"The spruce wood over the brook," said Anne in a whisper.

"Fiddlesticks! There is no such thing as a haunted wood anywhere. Who has been telling you such stuff?"

"Nobody," confessed Anne. "Diana and I just imagined the wood was haunted. All the places around here are so—so—commonplace. We just got this up for our own amusement. We began it in April. A haunted wood is so very romantic, Marilla. We chose the spruce grove because it's so gloomy. Oh, we have imagined the most harrowing things. There's a white lady walks along the brook just about this time of the night and wrings her hands and utters wailing cries. She appears when there is to be a death in the family. And the ghost of a little murdered child haunts the corner up by Idlewild; it creeps up behind you and lays its cold fingers on your hand—so. Oh, Marilla, it gives me a shudder to think of it. And there's a headless man stalks up and down the path and skeletons glower at you between the boughs. Oh, Marilla, I wouldn't go through the Haunted Wood after dark now for anything. I'd be sure that white things would reach out from behind the trees and grab me."

"Did ever any one hear the like!" ejaculated Marilla, who had listened in dumb amazement. "Anne Shirley, do you mean to tell me you believe all that wicked nonsense of your own imagination?"

"Not believe exactly," faltered Anne. "At least, I don't believe it in daylight. But after dark, Marilla, it's different. That is when ghosts walk."

"There are no such things as ghosts, Anne."

"Oh, but there are, Marilla," cried Anne eagerly. "I know people who have seen them. And they are respectable people. Charlie Sloane says that his grandmother saw his grandfather driving home the cows one night after he'd been buried for a year. You know Charlie Sloane's grandmother wouldn't tell a story for anything. She's a very religious woman. And Mrs. Thomas' father was pursued home one night by a lamb of fire with its head cut off hanging by a strip of skin. He said he knew it was the spirit of his brother and that it was a warning he would die within nine days. He didn't, but he died two years after, so you see it was really true. And Ruby Gillis says—"

"Anne Shirley," interrupted Marilla firmly, "I never want to hear you talking in this fashion again. I've had my doubts about that imagination of yours right along, and if this is going to be the outcome of it, I won't countenance any such doings. You'll go right over to Barry's, and you'll go through that spruce grove, just for a lesson and a warning to you. And never let me hear a word out of your head about haunted woods again."

Anne might plead and cry as she liked—and did, for her terror was very real. Her imagination had run away with her and she held the spruce grove in mortal dread after nightfall. But Marilla was inexorable. She marched the shrinking ghostseer down to the spring and ordered her to proceed straightway over the bridge and into the dusky retreats of wailing ladies and headless spectres beyond.

"Oh, Marilla, how can you be so cruel?" sobbed Anne. "What would you feel like if a white thing did snatch me up and carry me off?"

"I'll risk it," said Marilla unfeelingly. "You know I always mean what I say. I'll cure you of imagining ghosts into places. March, now."

Anne marched. That is, she stumbled over the bridge and went shuddering up the horrible dim path beyond. Anne never forgot that walk. Bitterly did she repent the license she had given to her imagination. The goblins of her fancy lurked in every shadow about her, reaching out their cold, fleshless hands to grasp the terrified small girl who had called them into being. A white strip of birch bark blowing up from the hollow over the brown floor of the grove made her heart stand still. The long-drawn wail of two old boughs rubbing against each other brought out the perspiration in beads on her forehead. The swoop of bats in the darkness over her was as the wings of unearthly creatures. When she reached Mr. William Bell's field she fled across it as if pursued by an army of white things, and arrived at the Barry kitchen door so out of breath that she could hardly gasp out her request for the apron pattern. Diana was away so that she had no excuse to linger. The dreadful return journey had to be faced. Anne went back over it with shut eyes, preferring to take the risk of dashing her brains out among the boughs to that of seeing a white thing. When she finally stumbled over the log bridge she drew one long shivering breath of relief.

"Well, so nothing caught you?" said Marilla unsympathetically.

"Oh, Mar—Marilla," chattered Anne, "I'll b-b-be cont-t-tented with c-c-commonplace places after this."