en-fr  Anne of Green Gables /Chapter XI
CHAPITRE XI LES IMPRESSIONS D'ANNE SUR L’ÉCOLE DU DIMANCHE — Eh bien, tu les aimes ? demanda Marilla.

Anne se tenait dans la chambre du pignon et regardait d'un air solennel trois robes étalées sur le lit. La première était faite dans un tissu à carreaux vichy d'une couleur marron-jaunâtre que Marilla avait été poussée à acheter à un colporteur l'été précédent en raison de son aspect pratique ; l'autre dans une satinette écossaise noir et blanc qu'elle avait trouvée à un marché aux bonnes affaires pendant l'hiver ; et la dernière dans un imprimé lourd d'une hideuse teinte bleue qu'elle avait acheté pendant la semaine au magasin de Carmody.

Elle les avait toutes confectionnées elle-même, et elles se ressemblaient toutes : des jupes simples et amples sur une taille sans ornement, avec des manches aussi uniformes que l'étaient la taille et la jupe, et aussi serrées qu'il était possible de l'être pour des manches.

— J'imaginerai que je les aime bien, dit sobrement Anne.

— Je ne veux pas que tu imagines, dit Marilla, offensée. Oh, je vois bien que tu n'aimes pas ces robes ! Qu'ont-elles donc ces robes ? Ne sont-elles pas seyantes, propres et neuves ?

— Si.

— Alors pourquoi tu ne les aimes pas ?

— Elles sont... elles ne sont pas... jolies, dit Anne à contrecœur.

— Jolies ! renifla Marilla. Je ne me suis pas donné du mal pour te trouver de jolies robes. Je ne crois pas qu'il faille satisfaire la vanité , Anne, laisse-moi te le dire tout de suite. Ces robes sont de bonnes robes, sages, fonctionnelles, sans fioritures ou falbalas, et c'est tout ce que tu auras cet été. La robe en vichy brun et celle à l'imprimé bleu feront l'affaire pour l'école quand tu commenceras à y aller. La robe en satinette ira pour l'église et l'école du dimanche. Je m'attends à ce que tu les gardes propres et nettes et que tu ne les déchires pas. Je pensais que tu serais reconnaissante d'avoir autre chose plutôt que ces frusques en wincey étriquées que tu as portées jusque là.

— Oh, je suis reconnaissante, protesta Anne. Mais j'aurais été tellement reconnaissante si... si vous en aviez fait rien qu'une avec des manches bouffantes. Les manches bouffantes sont tellement à la mode aujourd'hui. Ce serait un tel ravissement pour moi , Marilla, de simplement porter une robe avec des manches bouffantes.

— Eh bien, tu devras faire sans ton ravissement. Je n'avais aucun tissu à gaspiller en manches bouffantes. Je pense que ce sont des fanfreluches, de toute façon. Je préfère les robes simples et raisonnables.

— Mais je préférerais avoir l'air ridicule en même temps que tout le monde que simple et raisonnable toute seule, insista Anne tristement.

— Je te fais confiance pour ça ! Eh bien, suspends soigneusement ces robes dans ton placard, puis assieds-toi et apprends ta leçon de catéchisme. J'ai reçu un livret d'éducation religieuse de M. Bell pour toi et tu iras demain au catéchisme, dit Marilla, disparaissant au rez-de-chaussée sur ses grands chevaux.

Anne joignit les mains et examina les robes.

— J'espérais qu'il y en aurait une blanche avec des manches bouffantes, murmura-t-elle inconsolable. — J'ai prié pour en avoir une, mais je n'avais pas beaucoup d'espoir à ce sujet. Je ne pensais pas que le bon Dieu trouverait le temps de se soucier d'une robe pour une petite orpheline. Je savais que je devrais m'en remettre à Marilla pour ça. Eh bien, heureusement, je peux imaginer que l'une d'elles est en mousseline blanche avec de jolis volants en dentelle et des manches triplement bouffantes.

Le lendemain matin, les prémices d'un mal de tête empêchèrent Marilla d'accompagner Anne à l'école du dimanche.

— Tu devras descendre et passer prendre Mme Lynde, Anne, dit-elle. Elle veillera à ce que tu sois dans la bonne classe. Maintenant, garde bien à l'esprit que tu dois te comporter correctement. Ensuite reste pour le prêche et demande à Mme Lynde de te montrer notre banc. Voici un cent pour la quête. Ne dévisage pas les gens et tiens-toi tranquille. Je compte sur toi pour me répéter le texte d'évangile quand tu rentreras à la maison.

Irréprochable, Anne se mit en route, vêtue de la robe empesée en satinette noir et blanc, laquelle, d'une longueur parfaitement décente et dont on ne pouvait dire qu'elle était étriquée, accentuait chaque angle de sa mince silhouette. Elle portait un petit canotier, plat, luisant, dont l'extrême simplicité avait aussi beaucoup déçu Anne, qui s'était permis des rêves secrets de rubans et de fleurs. Ces dernières, toutefois, furent fournies à Anne avant qu'elle n'atteignît la route, à mi-pente du chemin elle tomba sur une frénésie de boutons d'or agités par le vent ainsi que sur de magnificentes églantines ; promptement et avec générosité Anne avait couronné son canotier de ces fleurs. Quoi que les autres aient pu penser du résultat, Anne en était satisfaite, et, redressant sa tête rousse garnie de ses décorations roses et jaunes, elle cheminait joyeusement sur la route.

Lorsqu'elle atteignit la maison de Mme Lynde, elle constata que celle-ci était partie. Aucunement découragée, Anne continua seule son chemin vers l'église. Sous le porche, elle trouva une bande de petites filles, toutes plus ou moins vêtues gaiement, de tenues blanches, bleues et roses, toutes fixant d'un regard curieux cette étrangère au milieu d'elles, avec son extraordinaire coiffure. Les petites filles d'Avonlea avaient déjà entendu des histoires étranges à propos d' Anne ; Mme Lynde disait qu'elle avait un horrible caractère ; Jerry Buote, l'employé de Green Gables, racontait qu'elle s'adressait tout le temps à elle-même, ou aux arbres et aux fleurs comme une fille un peu dérangée. Elles la dévisagèrent et murmurèrent entre elles derrière leurs livrets d'éducation religieuse. Personne ne tenta aucune approche amicale, ni avant que les premiers exercices fussent terminés, ni après qu'ils le furent et pas avant qu'Anne ne se retrouvât dans la classe de Mlle Rogerson.
Mlle Rogerson était une dame d'âge moyen qui enseignait dans une classe de l'école du dimanche depuis vingt ans. Sa méthode d'enseignement était de poser les questions écrites dans l'édition trimestrielle, et de jeter un regard en coin à la petite fille qui devait répondre à la question. Elle regardait très souvent Anne, et Anne, grâce à l'insistance de Marilla, répondait rapidement, mais on pouvait se demander si elle comprenait vraiment toutes les questions ou réponses.
Elle ne pensait pas aimer Mlle Rogerson, et se sentait très misérable : Toutes les autres filles de la classe avaient des manches bouffantes. Anne trouvait que la vie valait pas la peine d'être vécue sans des manches bouffantes.

— Eh bien, as-tu aimé l’École du dimanche ? voulut savoir Marilla lorsque Anne rentra à la maison. Anne avait jeté sa couronne, une fois fanée, dans le chemin, de sorte que cela épargna à Marilla d'apprendre ce détail pour le moment..

— Je n'ai pas du tout aimé. C'était horrible.

— Anne Shirley ! réprimanda Marilla.

Anne s'assit sur la chaise à bascule avec un long soupir, déposa un baiser sur l'une des feuilles de Bonny et salua de la main un fuchsia en fleur.

— Ils ont du s'ennuyer pendant que j'étais partie, expliqua-t-elle. Et maintenant, l’École du dimanche. Je me suis bien tenue, exactement comme tu m'as dit de le faire. Mme Lynde était absente mais je me suis débrouillée toute seule. Je suis allée dans l'église avec plein d'autres petites filles et je me suis assise au bout d'un banc près de la fenêtre pendant que les exercices préparatoires se déroulaient. M. Belle a fait une prière horriblement longue. J'aurais été terriblement fatiguée avant qu'il n'ait fini si je n'avais pas été assise près de cette fenêtre. Mais elle donnait directement sur le lac des Eaux Étincelantes, alors je l'ai juste regardé et j'ai imaginé plein de choses magnifiques.

— Tu n'aurais rien dû faire de la sorte. Tu aurais du écouter M. Bell.

— Mais il ne me parlait pas, protesta Anne. Il parlait à Dieu et ça ne paraissait pas vraiment beaucoup l'intéresser, d'ailleurs. Je pense qu'il songeait que Dieu était trop loin pour que cela vaille la peine. Moi aussi, j'ai dit une petite prière, cependant. Une longue rangée de bouleaux blancs surplombaient le lac et la lumière du soleil descendait à travers eux jusque très, très bas, profondément dans l'eau. Oh, Marilla, c'était comme un beau rêve ! Cela m'a donné des frissons et j'ai seulement dit, "Merci pour cela, mon Dieu" deux ou trois fois.

— Pas à voix haute, j'espère, dit Marilla avec anxiété.

— Oh non, juste murmuré. Puis, M. Bell a enfin terminé et on m'a dit d'aller en cours avec la classe de Mlle Rogerson. Il y avait neuf autres filles présentes. Elles avaient toutes des robes à manches bouffantes. J'ai essayé d'imaginer que la mienne était aussi bouffante, mais, je n'ai pas pu. Pourquoi n'ai-je pas pu ? C'était simple comme tout de les imaginer bouffantes tant que j'étais seule dans le pignon est, mais horriblement difficile parmi les autres qui avaient de vraies manches bouffantes.

— Tu n'aurais pas dû songer à tes manches bouffantes pendant l'Église du dimanche. Tu aurais dû prêter attention à la leçon. J'espère que tu la savais.

— Oh oui ! et j'ai répondu à un tas de questions. Mlle Rogerson en a posé tellement. Je trouve que ça n'est pas juste que ce soit toujours elle qui pose toutes les questions. Il y avait beaucoup de choses que je souhaitais lui demander, mais je n'ai pas voulu car je ne pense pas que ce soit une âme sœur. Ensuite, toutes les autres petites filles ont récité un psaume. Elle m'a demandé si j'en connaissais. Je lui ai dit que je n'en connaissais pas, mais je pouvais réciter « Le chien à la tombe de son maître » si elle en avait envie. C'est dans le Third Royal Reader. Ce n'est pas vraiment un poème franchement religieux, mais c'est si triste et mélancolique qu'on le croirait presque. Elle a dit que ça ne convenait pas et m'a demandé d'apprendre la psaume dix-neuf pour dimanche prochain. Je l'ai lu à l'église ensuite et il est splendide. Il y a deux versets en particulier qui m'émeuvent.

« Aussi vite que tombèrent les escadrons massacrés, ce maudit jour, dans la plaine de Midian. »

Je ne sais pas ce qu'« escadrons » veut dire ni « Midian » , mais ça semble si tragique. Je trépigne d'impatience d'être à dimanche prochain pour le réciter. Je vais m'entraîner toute la semaine. Après l'école du dimanche, j'ai demandé à Mlle Rogerson — parce que Mme Lynde était trop loin — de me montrer ton banc. Je me suis assise aussi immobile que possible et le texte était Apocalypse, chapitre trois, versets deux et trois . C'était un texte très long. Si j'étais pasteur, je choisirais ceux qui sont courts et accrocheurs. Le sermon était lui aussi terriblement long. Je suppose que le pasteur devait l'adapter au texte. Je ne l'ai pas trouvé intéressant. Le problème avec lui semble être qu'il manque d'imagination. Je ne l'ai pas beaucoup écouté. Je laissé vagabonder mes pensées et j'ai rêvé aux choses les plus surprenantes.

Marilla ressentait avec impuissance que tout ceci devait être sévèrement réprimandé, mais elle était gênée par le fait indéniable que certaines des choses qu'Anne avait dites, en particulier sur les sermons du pasteur et les prières de M. Bell, étaient ce qu'elle-même avait vraiment pensé au fond de son cœur, pendant des années, mais qu'elle n'avait jamais exprimé. Il lui semblait presque que ces pensées critiques, secrètes, intimes, s'étaient soudainement incarnées en une forme visible et accusatrice en la personne de ce petit être franc abandonné de l'humanité.
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CHAPTER XI ANNE'S IMPRESSIONS OF SUNDAY-SCHOOL "Well, how do you like them?"
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said Marilla.
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Anne was standing in the gable-room, looking solemnly at three new dresses spread out on the bed.
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"I'll imagine that I like them," said Anne soberly.
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"I don't want you to imagine it," said Marilla, offended.
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"Oh, I can see you don't like the dresses!
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What is the matter with them?
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Aren't they neat and clean and new?"
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"Yes."
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"Then why don't you like them?"
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"They're—they're not—pretty," said Anne reluctantly.
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"Pretty!"
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Marilla sniffed.
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"I didn't trouble my head about getting pretty dresses for you.
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I don't believe in pampering vanity, Anne, I'll tell you that right off.
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The brown gingham and the blue print will do you for school when you begin to go.
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The sateen is for church and Sunday-school.
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I'll expect you to keep them neat and clean and not to tear them.
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"Oh, I am grateful," protested Anne.
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"But I'd be ever so much gratefuller if—if you'd made just one of them with puffed sleeves.
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Puffed sleeves are so fashionable now.
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It would give me such a thrill, Marilla, just to wear a dress with puffed sleeves."
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"Well, you'll have to do without your thrill.
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I hadn't any material to waste on puffed sleeves.
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I think they are ridiculous-looking things anyhow.
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I prefer the plain, sensible ones."
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"Trust you for that!
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Anne clasped her hands and looked at the dresses.
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"I did hope there would be a white one with puffed sleeves," she whispered disconsolately.
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"I prayed for one, but I didn't much expect it on that account.
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I didn't suppose God would have time to bother about a little orphan girl's dress.
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I knew I'd just have to depend on Marilla for it.
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"You'll have to go down and call for Mrs. Lynde, Anne," she said.
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"She'll see that you get into the right class.
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Now, mind you behave yourself properly.
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Stay to preaching afterwards and ask Mrs. Lynde to show you our pew.
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Here's a cent for collection.
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Don't stare at people and don't fidget.
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I shall expect you to tell me the text when you come home."
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When she reached Mrs. Lynde's house she found that lady gone.
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Nothing daunted Anne proceeded onward to the church alone.
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They looked at her and whispered to each other behind their quarterlies.
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Miss Rogerson was a middle-aged lady who had taught a Sunday-school class for twenty years.
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Anne felt that life was really not worth living without puffed sleeves.
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"Well, how did you like Sunday-school?"
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Marilla wanted to know when Anne came home.
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"I didn't like it a bit.
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It was horrid."
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"Anne Shirley!"
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said Marilla rebukingly.
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"They might have been lonesome while I was away," she explained.
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"And now about the Sunday-school.
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I behaved well, just as you told me.
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Mrs. Lynde was gone, but I went right on myself.
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Mr. Bell made an awfully long prayer.
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I would have been dreadfully tired before he got through if I hadn't been sitting by that window.
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"You shouldn't have done anything of the sort.
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You should have listened to Mr.
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Bell."
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But he wasn't talking to me," protested Anne.
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"He was talking to God and he didn't seem to be very much interested in it, either.
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I think he thought God was too far off to make it worth while.
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I said a little prayer myself, though.
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Oh, Marilla, it was like a beautiful dream!
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It gave me a thrill and I just said, 'Thank you for it, God,' two or three times."
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"Not out loud, I hope," said Marilla anxiously.
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"Oh, no, just under my breath.
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There were nine other girls in it.
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They all had puffed sleeves.
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I tried to imagine mine were puffed, too, but I couldn't.
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Why couldn't I?
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"You shouldn't have been thinking about your sleeves in Sunday-school.
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You should have been attending to the lesson.
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I hope you knew it."
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"Oh, yes; and I answered a lot of questions.
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Miss Rogerson asked ever so many.
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I don't think it was fair for her to do all the asking.
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Then all the other little girls recited a paraphrase.
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She asked me if I knew any.
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I told her I didn't, but I could recite, 'The Dog at His Master's Grave' if she liked.
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That's in the Third Royal Reader.
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She said it wouldn't do and she told me to learn the nineteenth paraphrase for next Sunday.
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I read it over in church afterwards and it's splendid.
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There are two lines in particular that just thrill me.
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"'Quick as the slaughtered squadrons fell In Midian's evil day.'
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I don't know what 'squadrons' means nor 'Midian,' either, but it sounds so tragical.
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I can hardly wait until next Sunday to recite it.
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I'll practise it all the week.
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I sat just as still as I could and the text was Revelations, third chapter, second and third verses.
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It was a very long text.
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If I was a minister I'd pick the short, snappy ones.
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The sermon was awfully long, too.
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I suppose the minister had to match it to the text.
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I didn't think he was a bit interesting.
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The trouble with him seems to be that he hasn't enough imagination.
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I didn't listen to him very much.
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I just let my thoughts run and I thought of the most surprising things."
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gaelle044 • 5129  commented  9 months, 3 weeks ago

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

by gaelle044 9 months, 3 weeks ago

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 9 months, 3 weeks ago

CHAPTER XI

ANNE'S IMPRESSIONS OF SUNDAY-SCHOOL

"Well, how do you like them?" said Marilla.

Anne was standing in the gable-room, looking solemnly at three new dresses spread out on the bed. One was of snuffy coloured gingham which Marilla had been tempted to buy from a peddler the preceding summer because it looked so serviceable; one was of black-and-white checked sateen which she had picked up at a bargain counter in the winter; and one was a stiff print of an ugly blue shade which she had purchased that week at a Carmody store.

She had made them up herself, and they were all made alike—plain skirts fulled tightly to plain waists, with sleeves as plain as waist and skirt and tight as sleeves could be.

"I'll imagine that I like them," said Anne soberly.

"I don't want you to imagine it," said Marilla, offended. "Oh, I can see you don't like the dresses! What is the matter with them? Aren't they neat and clean and new?"

"Yes."

"Then why don't you like them?"

"They're—they're not—pretty," said Anne reluctantly.

"Pretty!" Marilla sniffed. "I didn't trouble my head about getting pretty dresses for you. I don't believe in pampering vanity, Anne, I'll tell you that right off. Those dresses are good, sensible, serviceable dresses, without any frills or furbelows about them, and they're all you'll get this summer. The brown gingham and the blue print will do you for school when you begin to go. The sateen is for church and Sunday-school. I'll expect you to keep them neat and clean and not to tear them. I should think you'd be grateful to get most anything after those skimpy wincey things you've been wearing."

"Oh, I am grateful," protested Anne. "But I'd be ever so much gratefuller if—if you'd made just one of them with puffed sleeves. Puffed sleeves are so fashionable now. It would give me such a thrill, Marilla, just to wear a dress with puffed sleeves."

"Well, you'll have to do without your thrill. I hadn't any material to waste on puffed sleeves. I think they are ridiculous-looking things anyhow. I prefer the plain, sensible ones."

"But I'd rather look ridiculous when everybody else does than plain and sensible all by myself," persisted Anne mournfully.

"Trust you for that! Well, hang those dresses carefully up in your closet, and then sit down and learn the Sunday-school lesson. I got a quarterly from Mr. Bell for you and you'll go to Sunday-school to-morrow," said Marilla, disappearing down-stairs in high dudgeon.

Anne clasped her hands and looked at the dresses.

"I did hope there would be a white one with puffed sleeves," she whispered disconsolately. "I prayed for one, but I didn't much expect it on that account. I didn't suppose God would have time to bother about a little orphan girl's dress. I knew I'd just have to depend on Marilla for it. Well, fortunately I can imagine that one of them is of snow-white muslin with lovely lace frills and three-puffed sleeves."

The next morning warnings of a sick headache prevented Marilla from going to Sunday-school with Anne.

"You'll have to go down and call for Mrs. Lynde, Anne," she said. "She'll see that you get into the right class. Now, mind you behave yourself properly. Stay to preaching afterwards and ask Mrs. Lynde to show you our pew. Here's a cent for collection. Don't stare at people and don't fidget. I shall expect you to tell me the text when you come home."

Anne started off irreproachably, arrayed in the stiff black-and-white sateen, which, while decent as regards length and certainly not open to the charge of skimpiness, contrived to emphasize every corner and angle of her thin figure. Her hat was a little, flat, glossy, new sailor, the extreme plainness of which had likewise much disappointed Anne, who had permitted herself secret visions of ribbon and flowers. The latter, however, were supplied before Anne reached the main road, for, being confronted half-way down the lane with a golden frenzy of wind-stirred buttercups and a glory of wild roses, Anne promptly and liberally garlanded her hat with a heavy wreath of them. Whatever other people might have thought of the result it satisfied Anne, and she tripped gaily down the road, holding her ruddy head with its decoration of pink and yellow very proudly.

When she reached Mrs. Lynde's house she found that lady gone. Nothing daunted Anne proceeded onward to the church alone. In the porch she found a crowd of little girls, all more or less gaily attired in whites and blues and pinks, and all staring with curious eyes at this stranger in their midst, with her extraordinary head adornment. Avonlea little girls had already heard queer stories about Anne; Mrs. Lynde said she had an awful temper; Jerry Buote, the hired boy at Green Gables, said she talked all the time to herself or to the trees and flowers like a crazy girl. They looked at her and whispered to each other behind their quarterlies. Nobody made any friendly advances, then or later on when the opening exercises were over and Anne found herself in Miss Rogerson's class.
Miss Rogerson was a middle-aged lady who had taught a Sunday-school class for twenty years. Her method of teaching was to ask the printed questions from the quarterly and look sternly over its edge at the particular little girl she thought ought to answer the question. She looked very often at Anne, and Anne, thanks to Marilla's drilling, answered promptly; but it may be questioned if she understood very much about either question or answer.
She did not think she liked Miss Rogerson, and she felt very miserable; every other little girl in the class had puffed sleeves. Anne felt that life was really not worth living without puffed sleeves.

"Well, how did you like Sunday-school?" Marilla wanted to know when Anne came home. Her wreath having faded, Anne had discarded it in the lane, so Marilla was spared the knowledge of that for a time.

"I didn't like it a bit. It was horrid."

"Anne Shirley!" said Marilla rebukingly.

Anne sat down on the rocker with a long sigh, kissed one of Bonny's leaves, and waved her hand to a blossoming fuchsia.

"They might have been lonesome while I was away," she explained. "And now about the Sunday-school. I behaved well, just as you told me. Mrs. Lynde was gone, but I went right on myself. I went into the church, with a lot of other little girls, and I sat in the corner of a pew by the window while the opening exercises went on. Mr. Bell made an awfully long prayer. I would have been dreadfully tired before he got through if I hadn't been sitting by that window. But it looked right out on the Lake of Shining Waters, so I just gazed at that and imagined all sorts of splendid things."

"You shouldn't have done anything of the sort. You should have listened to Mr. Bell."

But he wasn't talking to me," protested Anne. "He was talking to God and he didn't seem to be very much interested in it, either. I think he thought God was too far off to make it worth while. I said a little prayer myself, though. There was a long row of white birches hanging over the lake and the sunshine fell down through them, 'way, 'way down, deep into the water. Oh, Marilla, it was like a beautiful dream! It gave me a thrill and I just said, 'Thank you for it, God,' two or three times."

"Not out loud, I hope," said Marilla anxiously.

"Oh, no, just under my breath. Well, Mr. Bell did get through at last and they told me to go into the class-room with Miss Rogerson's class. There were nine other girls in it. They all had puffed sleeves. I tried to imagine mine were puffed, too, but I couldn't. Why couldn't I? It was as easy as could be to imagine they were puffed when I was alone in the east gable, but it was awfully hard there among the others who had really truly puffs."

"You shouldn't have been thinking about your sleeves in Sunday-school. You should have been attending to the lesson. I hope you knew it."

"Oh, yes; and I answered a lot of questions. Miss Rogerson asked ever so many. I don't think it was fair for her to do all the asking. There were lots I wanted to ask her, but I didn't like to because I didn't think she was a kindred spirit. Then all the other little girls recited a paraphrase. She asked me if I knew any. I told her I didn't, but I could recite, 'The Dog at His Master's Grave' if she liked. That's in the Third Royal Reader. It isn't a really truly religious piece of poetry, but it's so sad and melancholy that it might as well be. She said it wouldn't do and she told me to learn the nineteenth paraphrase for next Sunday. I read it over in church afterwards and it's splendid. There are two lines in particular that just thrill me.

"'Quick as the slaughtered squadrons fell
In Midian's evil day.'

I don't know what 'squadrons' means nor 'Midian,' either, but it sounds so tragical. I can hardly wait until next Sunday to recite it. I'll practise it all the week. After Sunday-school I asked Miss Rogerson—because Mrs. Lynde was too far away—to show me your pew. I sat just as still as I could and the text was Revelations, third chapter, second and third verses. It was a very long text. If I was a minister I'd pick the short, snappy ones. The sermon was awfully long, too. I suppose the minister had to match it to the text. I didn't think he was a bit interesting. The trouble with him seems to be that he hasn't enough imagination. I didn't listen to him very much. I just let my thoughts run and I thought of the most surprising things."

Marilla felt helplessly that all this should be sternly reproved, but she was hampered by the undeniable fact that some of the things Anne had said, especially about the minister's sermons and Mr. Bell's prayers, were what she herself had really thought deep down in her heart for years, but had never given expression to. It almost seemed to her that those secret, unuttered, critical thoughts had suddenly taken visible and accusing shape and form in the person of this outspoken morsel of neglected humanity.