Гарриет Бичер-Стоу - Хижина дяди Тома - английский и русский параллельные тексты
- Название:Хижина дяди Тома - английский и русский параллельные тексты
- Автор:
- Жанр:
- Издательство:неизвестно
- Год:неизвестен
- ISBN:нет данных
- Рейтинг:
- Избранное:Добавить в избранное
-
Отзывы:
-
Ваша оценка:
Гарриет Бичер-Стоу - Хижина дяди Тома - английский и русский параллельные тексты краткое содержание
Хижина дяди Тома - английский и русский параллельные тексты - читать онлайн бесплатно ознакомительный отрывок
Интервал:
Закладка:
После похорон Евы семья Сен-Клеров переехала в город. Истерзанная душа Огюстэна требовала перемены обстановки, способной изменить и ход его мыслей.
| In a few days the St. Clare family were back again in the city; Augustine, with the restlessness of grief, longing for another scene, to change the current of his thoughts. | Он покинул поэтому и дом, и сад, и маленькую могилку и, вернувшись в Новый Орлеан, с головой окунулся в жизнь большого города. Он пытался заполнить пустоту в своей душе. Люди, встречавшие его на улице или в кафе, о постигшей его утрате узнавали только по креповой повязке на его шляпе. Он казался спокойным, улыбался, разговаривал, просматривал газеты, спорил о политике, проявлял интерес к коммерческим делам. Кто мог подозревать, что за этой беззаботной внешностью скрывается сердце, как могила полное печали и мрака... |
| So they left the house and garden, with its little grave, and came back to New Orleans; and St. Clare walked the streets busily, and strove to fill up the chasm in his heart with hurry and bustle, and change of place; and people who saw him in the street, or met him at the cafe, knew of his loss only by the weed on his hat; for there he was, smiling and talking, and reading the newspaper, and speculating on politics, and attending to business matters; and who could see that all this smiling outside was but a hollowed shell over a heart that was a dark and silent sepulchre? | - Сен-Клер очень странный человек, - жалобно говорила Мари, обращаясь к мисс Офелии. -Право же, мне всегда казалось, что уж если ему что-нибудь и дорого на свете, так это наша маленькая Ева! Но я вижу, что и ее он с легкостью забыл... Я не могу добиться, чтобы он поговорил со мной о ней. |
| "Mr. St. Clare is a singular man," said Marie to Miss Ophelia, in a complaining tone. "I used to think, if there was anything in the world he did love, it was our dear little Eva; but he seems to be forgetting her very easily. I cannot ever get him to talk about her. I really did think he would show more feeling!" | - Где вода спокойна, там и глубока, говорят у нас, - медленно произнесла Офелия. |
| "Still waters run deepest, they used to tell me," said Miss Ophelia, oracularly. | - Эта пословица в данном случае неприменима, -возразила Мари обиженно. - Когда у человека есть сердце - это бывает видно, этого не скроешь... Как тяжко обладать чувствительным сердцем! |
| "O, I don't believe in such things; it's all talk. If people have feeling, they will show it,-they can't help it; but, then, it's a great misfortune to have feeling. | Лучше бы уж я была такой, как Сен-Клер... моя чувствительность убивает меня! |
| I'd rather have been made like St. Clare. My feelings prey upon me so!" | - Взгляните на мистера Сен-Клера, мэ-эм, -сказала как-то Мэмми. - Он так исхудал, что превратился в тень. |
| "Sure, Missis, Mas'r St. Clare is gettin' thin as a shader. | Он ничего не ест. |
| They say, he don't never eat nothin'," said Mammy. | Я знаю, что он не забывает мисс Еву. Ах, никто, никто не забудет ее, дорогую нашу крошку! - И Мэмми заплакала. |
"I know he don't forget Miss Eva; I know there couldn't nobody,-dear, little, blessed cretur!" she added, wiping her eyes. "Well, at all events, he has no consideration for me," said Marie; "he hasn't spoken one word of sympathy, and he must know how much more a mother feels than any man can." "The heart knoweth its own bitterness," said Miss Ophelia, gravely. "That's just what I think. I know just what I feel,-nobody else seems to. Eva used to, but she is gone!" and Marie lay back on her lounge, and began to sob disconsolately. Marie was one of those unfortunately constituted mortals, in whose eyes whatever is lost and gone assumes a value which it never had in possession. Whatever she had, she seemed to survey only to pick flaws in it; but, once fairly away, there was no end to her valuation of it. While this conversation was taking place in the parlor another was going on in St. Clare's library. Tom, who was always uneasily following his master about, had seen him go to his library, some hours before; and, after vainly waiting for him to come out, determined, at last, to make an errand in. He entered softly. St. Clare lay on his lounge, at the further end of the room. He was lying on his face, with Eva's Bible open before him, at a little distance. Tom walked up, and stood by the sofa. He hesitated; and, while he was hesitating, St. Clare suddenly raised himself up. The honest face, so full of grief, and with such an imploring expression of affection and sympathy, struck his master. He laid his hand on Tom's, and bowed down his forehead on it. "O, Tom, my boy, the whole world is as empty as an egg-shell." "I know it, Mas'r,-I know it," said Tom; "but, oh, if Mas'r could only look up,-up where our dear Miss Eva is,-up to the dear Lord Jesus!" "Ah, Tom! I do look up; but the trouble is, I don't see
anything, when I do, I wish I could." Tom sighed
Глава XXVIII
heavily. "It seems to be given to children, and poor, honest fellows, like you, to see what we can't," said St. Clare. "How comes it?" "Thou has 'hid from the wise and prudent, and revealed unto babes,'" murmured Tom; "'even so, Father, for so it seemed
good in thy sight......Tom, I don't believe,-I can't
believe,-I've got the habit of doubting," said St. Clare. "I want to believe this Bible,-and I can't." "Dear Mas'r, pray to the good Lord,-'Lord, I believe; help
thou my unbelief......Who knows anything about
anything?" said St. Clare, his eyes wandering dreamily, and speaking to himself. "Was all that beautiful love and faith only one of the ever-shifting phases of human feeling, having nothing real to rest on, passing away with the little breath? And is there no more Eva,-no heaven,-no Christ,-nothing?" "O, dear Mas'r, there is! I know it; I'm sure of it," said Tom, falling on his knees. "Do, do, dear Mas'r, believe it!" "How do you know there's any Christ, Tom! You never saw the Lord." "Felt Him in my
soul, Mas'r,-feel Him now! O, Mas'r, when I was sold away from my old woman and the children, I was jest a'most broke up. I felt as if there warn't nothin' left; and then the good Lord, he stood by me, and he says, 'Fear not, Tom;' and he brings light and joy in a poor feller's soul,-makes all peace; and I 's so happy, and loves everybody, and feels willin' jest to be the Lord's, and have the Lord's will done, and be put jest where the Lord wants to put me. I know it couldn't come from me, cause I 's a poor, complainin' cretur; it comes from the Lord; and I know He's willin' to do for Mas'r." Tom spoke with
fast-running tears and choking voice. St. Clare leaned his head on his shoulder, and wrung the hard, faithful, black hand. "Tom, you love me," he said. "I 's willin' to lay down my life, this blessed day, to see Mas'r a Christian." "Poor, foolish boy!" said St. Clare, half-raising himself. "I'm not worth the love of one good, honest heart, like yours." "O, Mas'r, dere's more than me loves you,-the blessed Lord Jesus loves you." "How do you know that Tom?" said St. Clare. "Feels it in my soul. O, Mas'r! 'the love of
Christ, that passeth knowledge. Singular!" said
St. Clare, turning away, "that the story of a man that lived and died eighteen hundred years ago can affect people so yet. But he was no man," he added, suddenly. "No man ever had such long and living power! O, that I could believe what my mother taught me, and pray as I did when I was a boy!" "If Mas'r pleases," said Tom, "Miss Eva used to read this so beautifully. I wish Mas'r'd be so good as read it. Don't get no readin', hardly, now Miss Eva's gone." The chapter was the eleventh of John,-the touching account of the raising of Lazarus, St. Clare read it aloud, often pausing to wrestle down feelings which were roused by the pathos of the story. Tom knelt before him, with clasped hands, and with an absorbed expression of love, trust, adoration, on his quiet face. "Tom," said his Master, "this is all real to you!" "I can jest fairly see it Mas'r," said Tom. "I wish I had your eyes, Tom." "I wish, to the dear Lord, Mas'r had!" "But, Tom, you know that I have a great deal more knowledge than you; what if I should tell you that I don't believe this Bible?" "O, Mas'r!" said Tom, holding up his hands, with a deprecating gesture. "Wouldn't it shake your faith some, Tom?" "Not a grain," said Tom. "Why, Tom, you must know I know the most." "O, Mas'r, haven't you jest read how he hides from the wise and prudent, and reveals unto babes? But Mas'r wasn't in earnest, for sartin, now?" said Tom, anxiously. "No, Tom, I
was not. I don't disbelieve, and I think there is reason to believe; and still I don't. It's a troublesome bad habit I've got, Tom." "If Mas'r would only pray!" "How do you know I don't, Tom?" "Does Mas'r?"
"I would, Tom, if there was anybody there when I pray; but it's all speaking unto nothing, when I do.
| But come, Tom, you pray now, and show me how." Tom's heart was full; he poured it out in prayer, like waters that have been long suppressed. One thing was plain enough; Tom thought there was somebody to hear, whether there were or not. In fact, St. Clare felt himself borne, on the tide of his faith and feeling, almost to the gates of that heaven he seemed so vividly to conceive. It seemed to bring him nearer to Eva. "Thank you, my boy," said St. Clare, when Tom rose. "I like to hear you, Tom; but go, now, and leave me alone; some other time, I'll talk more." Tom silently left the room. | |
| CHAPTER XXVIII | Сомкнулись волны... |
| Reunion | Неделя за неделей проходили в доме Сен-Клера. Волны жизни, сомкнувшись на том месте, где скрылась маленькая ладья, продолжали свое обычное течение. |
| Week after week glided away in the St. Clare mansion, and the waves of life settled back to their usual flow, where that little bark had gone down. | О, эти мелочи повседневной жизни: холодные, жесткие, властные, неумолимые, - как безжалостно топчут они драгоценнейшие чувства нашего сердца! |
| For how imperiously, how coolly, in disregard of all one's feeling, does the hard, cold, uninteresting course of daily realities move on! | Приходится есть, пить, приходится спать, приходится даже просыпаться! Нужно покупать, продавать, спрашивать, отвечать на вопросы. |
| Still must we eat, and drink, and sleep, and wake again,-still bargain, buy, sell, ask and answer questions,-pursue, in short, a thousand shadows, though all interest in them be over; the cold mechanical habit of living remaining, after all vital interest in it has fled. | Надежды Сен-Клера, все его интересы до сих пор незаметно для него самого вертелись вокруг дочки. |
| All the interests and hopes of St. Clare's life had unconsciously wound themselves around this child. | Ради Евы он украшал свой дом, заботился о своем поместье, о денежных делах. Время свое он распределял так, как было лучше для девочки. Все мысли его были полны Евой, все делалось только для нее. Евы не стало, и сразу теряли смысл и действия его и намерения. |
| It was for Eva that he had managed his property; it was for Eva that he had planned the disposal of his time; and, to do this and that for Eva,-to buy, improve, alter, and arrange, or dispose something for her,-had been so long his habit, that now she was gone, there seemed nothing to be thought of, and nothing to be done. | Но какая-то невидимая, неуловимая связь продолжала существовать между ним и любимым ребенком. |
| True, there was another life,-a life which, once believed in, stands as a solemn, significant figure before the otherwise unmeaning ciphers of time, changing them to orders of mysterious, untold value. | Часто в минуты отчаяния ему казалось, что он слышит детский голос, зовущий его к добру и правде. Он словно видел маленькую ручку, указывающую ему путь в жизни. |
| St. Clare knew this well; and often, in many a weary hour, he heard that slender, childish voice calling him to the skies, and saw that little hand pointing to him the way of life; but a heavy lethargy of sorrow lay on him,-he could not arise. He had one of those natures which could better and more clearly conceive of religious things from its own perceptions and instincts, than many a matter-of-fact and practical Christian. The gift to appreciate and the sense to feel the finer shades and relations of moral things, often seems an attribute of those whose whole life shows a careless disregard of them. Hence Moore, Byron, Goethe, often speak words more wisely descriptive of the true religious sentiment, than another man, whose whole life is governed by it. In such minds, disregard of religion is a more fearful treason,-a more deadly sin. St. Clare had never pretended to govern himself by any religious obligation; and a certain fineness of nature gave him such an instinctive view of the extent of the requirements of Christianity, that he shrank, by anticipation, from what he felt would be the exactions of his own conscience, if he once did resolve to assume them. For, so inconsistent is human nature, especially in the ideal, that not to undertake a thing at all seems better than to undertake and come short. | Сен-Клер стал другим человеком. |
| Still St. Clare was, in many respects, another man. | У него появились иные взгляды на взаимоотношения с рабами. Он стал ощущать недовольство своим прошлым и настоящим. Сразу же по возвращении в Новый Орлеан он предпринял кое-какие шаги к освобождению Тома, привязанность к которому росла в его сердце с каждым днем. |
| He read his little Eva's Bible seriously and honestly; he thought more soberly and practically of his relations to his servants,-enough to make him extremely dissatisfied with both his past and present course; and one thing he did, soon after his return to New Orleans, and that was to commence the legal steps necessary to Tom's emancipation, which was to be perfected as soon as he could get through the necessary formalities. Meantime, he attached himself to Tom more and more, every day. | Ничто в этом мире не напоминало ему так ярко дорогого образа его девочки, как ее старый чернокожий друг. Ему хотелось, чтобы Том постоянно находился около него, и Том всюду сопровождал своего хозяина. |
| In all the wide world, there was nothing that seemed to remind him so much of Eva; and he would insist on keeping him constantly about him, and, fastidious and unapproachable as he was with regard to his deeper feelings, he almost thought aloud to Tom. Nor would any one have wondered at it, who had seen the expression of affection and devotion with which Tom continually followed his young master. | - Итак, друг, - сказал ему однажды Сен-Клер, - я собираюсь сделать тебя свободным человеком. Складывай свои пожитки и готовься к возвращению в Кентукки. |
| "Well, Tom," said St. Clare, the day after he had commenced the legal formalities for his enfranchisement, "I'm going to make a free man of you;-so have your trunk packed, and get ready to set out for Kentuck." | Радость, как молния, сверкнула в глазах Тома. Сен-Клера почти обидело, что Том с такой легкостью готов был расстаться с ним. |
| The sudden light of joy that shone in Tom's face as he raised his hands to heaven, his emphatic "Bless the Lord!" rather discomposed St. Clare; he did not like it that Tom should be so ready to leave him. | - Мне кажется, Том, - произнес он сухо, - что тебе здесь было не так уж плохо... Не понимаю, почему тебя так обрадовала возможность уехать. |
| "You haven't had such very bad times here, that you need be in such a rapture, Tom," he said drily. | - О нет, мастер, - воскликнул Том, - дело вовсе не в этом! Меня радует, что я буду свободным человеком. |
| "No, no, Mas'r! 'tan't that,-it's bein' a freeman! that's what I'm joyin' for." | - Скажи по совести, Том, не кажется ли тебе, что сейчас ты живешь лучше, чем если бы был свободен? |
| "Why, Tom, don't you think, for your own part, you've been better off than to be free?" | - Конечно, нет, мастер, - ответил с неожиданной твердостью Том. - Конечно, нет! |
| "No, indeed, Mas'r St. Clare," said Tom, with a flash of energy. "No, indeed!" | - На свой заработок ты никогда бы не мог так питаться и быть одетым так, как ты одет и как питаешься у меня, - сказал Сен-Клер. |
| "Why, Tom, you couldn't possibly have earned, by your work, such clothes and such living as I have given you." | - Я это отлично знаю, - согласился Том, - мастер был очень добр ко мне, слишком добр... Но я предпочел бы иметь самый бедный дом, самую плохую одежду, лишь бы знать, что это мое, а не хозяйское. Разве это не естественно, мастер? |
| "Knows all that, Mas'r St. Clare; Mas'r's been too good; but, Mas'r, I'd rather have poor clothes, poor house, poor everything, and have 'em mine, than have the best, and have 'em any man's else,-I had so, Mas'r; I think it's natur, Mas'r." | - Думаю, что ты прав, Том. И ты скоро уедешь... это будет приблизительно через месяц. |
| "I suppose so, Tom, and you'll be going off and leaving me, in a month or so," he added, rather discontentedly. | Хотя... может быть, тебе и не следовало бы этого делать, кто знает... |
| "Though why you shouldn't, no mortal knows," he said, in a gayer tone; and, getting up, he began to walk the floor. | - Я не уеду, - сказал Том, - пока я могу быть полезен мастеру, пока мастера грызет тоска... |
| "Not while Mas'r is in trouble," said Tom. "I'll stay with Mas'r as long as he wants me,-so as I can be any use." | - Пока меня грызет тоска... - задумчиво, глядя в окно, повторил Сен-Клер. - Ты в самом деле думаешь остаться со мной так долго? Ах, добрый мой Том, - продолжал он, положив руку на его плечо, - славный ты человек... Нет, я не стану так долго задерживать тебя. |
| "Not while I'm in trouble, Tom?" said St. Clare, looking sadly out of the window... "And when will my trouble be over?" "When Mas'r St. Clare's a Christian," said Tom. "And you really mean to stay by till that day comes?" said St. Clare, half smiling, as he turned from the window, and laid his hand on Tom's shoulder. "Ah, Tom, you soft, silly boy! I won't keep you till that day. | Поезжай к своей жене и детям... |
| Go home to your wife and children, and give my love to all." "I 's faith to believe that day will come," said Tom, earnestly, and with tears in his eyes; "the Lord has a work for Mas'r." "A work, hey?" said St. Clare, "well, now, Tom, give me your views on what sort of a work it is;-let's hear." "Why, even a poor fellow like me has a work from the Lord; and Mas'r St. Clare, that has larnin, and riches, and friends,-how much he might do for the Lord!" "Tom, you seem to think the Lord needs a great deal done for him," said St. Clare, smiling. "We does for the Lord when we does for his critturs," said Tom. "Good theology, Tom; better than Dr. B. preaches, I dare swear," said St. Clare. | Разговор был прерван приездом гостей. |
| The conversation was here interrupted by the announcement of some visitors. | Мари Сен-Клер переживала смерть Евы настолько глубоко, насколько вообще была способна что бы то ни было переживать. А так как ей свойственно было делать несчастными всех окружающих, когда несчастье поражало ее, то рабы ее сейчас имели достаточное основание горевать и оплакивать свою маленькую хозяйку, мягкое обхождение и великодушное заступничество которой не раз ограждали их от деспотизма ее матери. |
| Marie St. Clare felt the loss of Eva as deeply as she could feel anything; and, as she was a woman that had a great faculty of making everybody unhappy when she was, her immediate attendants had still stronger reason to regret the loss of their young mistress, whose winning ways and gentle intercessions had so often been a shield to them from the tyrannical and selfish exactions of her mother. Poor old Mammy, in particular, whose heart, severed from all natural domestic ties, had consoled itself with this one beautiful being, was almost heart-broken. She cried day and night, and was, from excess of sorrow, less skilful and alert in her ministrations of her mistress than usual, which drew down a constant storm of invectives on her defenceless head. | Мисс Офелия тоже по-своему болезненно ощущала потерю Евы. Но в ее честном и добром сердце горе приносило другие плоды: она стала покладистее и мягче. Так же ревностно относилась она к своим обязанностям, к любому делу, за которое бралась, но стала как-то спокойнее, сдержаннее. |
| Miss Ophelia felt the loss; but, in her good and honest heart, it bore fruit unto everlasting life. She was more softened, more gentle; and, though equally assiduous in every duty, it was with a chastened and quiet air, as one who communed with her own heart not in vain. | Офелия уделяла теперь большое внимание воспитанию Топси. Она уже не вздрагивала от отвращения при прикосновении к девочке, и ей не нужно было скрывать неприязнь, которую она уже не испытывала. Топси также изменилась к лучшему. |
She was more diligent in teaching Topsy,-taught her mainly from the Bible,-did not any longer shrink from her touch, or manifest an ill-repressed disgust, because she felt none. She viewed her now through the softened medium that Eva's hand had first held before her eyes, and saw in her only an immortal creature, whom God had sent to be led by her to glory and virtue. Topsy did not become at once a saint; but the life and death of Eva did work a marked change in her. The callous indifference was gone; there was now sensibility, hope, desire, and the striving for good,-a strife irregular, interrupted, suspended oft, but yet renewed again. One day, when Topsy had been sent for by Miss Ophelia, she came, hastily thrusting something into her bosom. "What are you doing there, you limb? You've been stealing something, I'll be bound," said the imperious little Rosa, who had been sent to call her, seizing her, at the same time, roughly by the arm. "You go 'long, Miss Rosa!" said Topsy, pulling from her; "'tan't none o' your business!" "None o' your sa'ce!" said Rosa, "I saw you hiding something,-I know yer tricks," and Rosa seized her arm, and tried to force her hand into her bosom, while Topsy, enraged, kicked and fought valiantly for what she considered her rights. The clamor and confusion of the battle drew Miss Ophelia and St. Clare both to the spot. "She's been
Читать дальшеИнтервал:
Закладка:
