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“All of us,” answered Rychie. “It will be such fun! And you must, too, Katrinka. But it’s schooltime now, we will talk it all over at noon. Oh! you will join, of course.”
Katrinka, without replying, made a graceful pirouette and laughing out a coquettish, “Don’t you hear the last bell? Catch me!” darted off toward the schoolhouse standing half a mile away on the canal.
All started, pell-mell, at this challenge, but they tried in vain to catch the bright-eyed, laughing creature who, with golden hair streaming in the sunlight, cast back many a sparkling glance of triumph as she floated onward.
Beautiful Katrinka! Flushed with youth and health, all life and mirth and motion, what wonder thine image, ever floating in advance, sped through one boy’s dreams that night! What wonder that it seemed his darkest hour when, years afterward, thy presence floated away from him forever.
Hans and Gretel Find a Friend
At noon our young friends poured forth from the schoolhouse, intent upon having an hour’s practice upon the canal.
They had skated but a few moments when Carl Schummel said mockingly to Hilda, “There’s a pretty pair just coming upon the ice! The little ragpickers![38 - The little ragpickers! – (уничижит.) Вот оборванцы!] Their skates must have been a present from the king direct.”
“They are patient creatures,” said Hilda gently. “It must have been hard to learn to skate upon such queer affairs. They are very poor peasants, you see. The boy has probably made the skates himself.”
Carl was somewhat abashed.
“Patient they may be, but as for skating, they start off pretty well, only to finish with a jerk. They could move well to your new staccato piece, I think.”
Hilda laughed pleasantly and left him. After joining a small detachment of the racers and sailing past every one of them, she halted beside Gretel, who, with eager eyes, had been watching the sport.
“What is your name, little girl?”
“Gretel, my lady,” answered the child, somewhat awed by Hilda’s rank, though they were nearly of the same age, “and my brother is called Hans.”
“Hans is a stout fellow,” said Hilda cheerily, “and seems to have a warm stove somewhere within him, but YOU look cold. You should wear more clothing, little one.”
Gretel, who had nothing else to wear, tried to laugh as she answered, “I am not so very little. I am past twelve years old.”
“Oh, I beg your pardon. You see, I am nearly fourteen, and so large for my age that other girls seem small to me, but that is nothing. Perhaps you will shoot up far above me yet, but not unless you dress more warmly, though. Shivering girls never grow.”
Hans flushed as he saw tears rising in Gretel’s eyes.
“My sister has not complained of the cold, but this is bitter weather, they all say.” And he looked sadly upon Gretel.
“It is nothing[39 - It is nothing – (разг.) Ничего страшного],” said Gretel. “I am often warm – too warm when I am skating. You are good, jufvrouw[40 - jufvrouw – (голл.) барышня], to think of it.”
“No, no,” answered Hilda, quite angry at herself. “I am careless, cruel, but I meant no harm. I wanted to ask you – I mean, if – ” And here Hilda, coming to the point of her errand, faltered before the poorly clad but noble-looking children she wished to serve.
“What is it, young lady?” exclaimed Hans eagerly. “If there is any service I can do, any – ”
“Oh, no, no,” laughed Hilda, shaking off her embarrassment. “I only wished to speak to you about the grand race. Why do you not join it? You both can skate well, and the ranks are free[41 - the ranks are free – (разг.) за участие (в соревнованиях) денег не берут]. Anyone may enter for the prize.”
Gretel looked wistfully at Hans, who, tugging at his cap, answered respectfully.
“Ah, jufvrouw, even if we could enter, we could skate only a few strokes with the rest. Our skates are hard wood, you see” – holding up the sole of his foot – “but they soon become damp, and then they stick and trip us.”
Gretel’s eyes twinkled with fun as she thought of Hans’s mishap in the morning, but she blushed as she faltered out timidly, “Oh, no, we can’t join, but may we be there, my lady, on the great day to look on?”
“Certainly,” answered Hilda, looking kindly into the two earnest faces and wishing from her heart that she had not spent so much of her monthly allowance for lace and finery. She had but eight kwartjes[42 - kwartjes – серебряная монетка в четверть гульдена (десять американских центов) (примеч. авт.)] left, and they would buy but one pair of skates, at the furthest.
Looking down with a sigh at the two pairs of feet so very different in size, she asked:
“Which of you is the better skater?”
“Gretel,” replied Hans promptly.
“Hans,” answered Gretel in the same breath.
Hilda smiled.
“I cannot buy you each a pair of skates, or even one good pair, but here are eight kwartjes. Decide between you which stands the best chance of winning the race, and buy the skates accordingly. I wish I had enough to buy better ones. Good-bye!” And, with a nod and a smile, Hilda, after handing the money to the electrified Hans, glided swiftly away to rejoin her companions.
“Jufvrouw! Jufvrouw van Gleck!” called Hans in a loud tone, stumbling after her as well as he could, for one of his skate strings was untied.
Hilda turned and, with one hand raised to shield her eyes from the sun, seemed to him to be floating through the air, nearer and nearer.
“We cannot take this money,” panted Hans, “though we know your goodness in giving it.”
“Why not, indeed?” asked Hilda, flushing.
“Because,” replied Hans, bowing like a clown but looking with the eye of a prince at the queenly girl, “we have not earned it.”
Hilda was quick-witted. She had noticed a pretty wooden chain upon Gretel’s neck.
“Carve me a chain, Hans, like the one your sister wears.”
“That I will, lady, with all my heart. We have whitewood in the house, fine as ivory; you shall have one tomorrow.” And Hans hastily tried to return the money.
“No, no,” said Hilda decidedly. “That sum will be but a poor price for the chain.[43 - That sum will be but a poor price for the chain. – (разг.) За такую цепочку этой суммы будет даже мало.]” And off she darted outstripping the fleetest among the skaters.
Hans sent a long, bewildered gaze after her; it was useless, he felt, to make any further resistance.
“It is right,” he muttered, half to himself, half to his faithful shadow, Gretel. “I must work hard every minute, and sit up half the night if the mother will let me burn a candle, but the chain shall be finished. We may keep the money, Gretel.”
“What a good little lady!” cried Gretel, clapping her hands with delight. “Oh! Hans, was it for nothing the stork settled on our roof last summer? Do you remember how the mother said it would bring us luck and how she cried when Janzoon Kolp shot him? And she set it would bring him trouble. But the luck has come to us at last! Now, Hans, if the mother sends us to town tomorrow, you can buy the skates in the marketplace.”
Hans shook his head. “The young lady would have given us the money to buy skates, but if I EARN it, Gretel, it shall be spent for wool. You must have a warm jacket.”
“Oh!” cried Gretel in real dismay, “not buy the skates? Why, I am not often cold! Mother says the blood runs up and down in poor children’s veins, humming, ‘I must keep ’em warm! I must keep ’em warm.’
“Oh, Hans,” she continued with something like a sob, “don’t say you won’t buy the skates. It makes me feel just like crying. Besides, I want to be cold. I mean, I’m real, awful warm – so now!”
Hans looked up hurriedly. He had a true Dutch horror or tears, of emotion of any kind, and most of all, he dreaded to see his sisters’ blue eyes overflowing.
“Now, mind,” cried Gretel, seeing her advantage, “I’ll feel awful if you give up the skates. I don’t want them. I’m not so stingy as that[44 - I’m not so stingy as that – (разг.) Я не такая жадная]; but I want YOU to have them, and then when I get bigger, they’ll do for me – oh – count the pieces, Hans. Did you ever see so many!”
Hans turned the money thoughtfully in his palm. Never in all his life had he longed so intensely for a pair of skates, for he had known of the race and had fairly ached for a chance to test his powers with the other children. He felt confident that with a good pair of steel runners he could readily outdistance most of the boys on the canal. Then, too, Gretel’s argument was plausible. On the other hand, he knew that she, with her strong but lithe little frame, needed but a week’s practice on good runners to make her a better skater than Rychie Korbes or even Katrinka Flack. As soon as this last thought flashed upon him, his resolve was made. If Gretel would not have the jacket, she should have the skates.
“No, Gretel,” he answered at last, “I can wait. Someday I may have money enough saved to buy a fine pair. You shall have these.”
Gretel’s eyes sparkled, but in another instant she insisted, rather faintly, “The young lady gave the money to YOU, Hans. I’d be real bad to take it.”
Hans shook his head resolutely as he trudged on, causing his sister to half-skip and half-walk in her effort to keep beside him[45 - to keep beside him – (разг.) чтобы не отстать]. By this time they had taken off their wooden “rockers” and were hastening home to tell their mother the good news.
“Oh! I know!” cried Gretel in a sprightly tone. “You can do this. You can get a pair a little too small for you, and too big for me, and we can take turns and use them. Won’t that be fine?” Gretel clapped her hands again.
Poor Hans! This was a strong temptation, but he pushed it away from him, brave-hearted fellow that he was.
“Nonsense, Gretel. You could never get on with a big pair. You stumbled about with these, like a blind chicken, before I curved off the ends. No, you must have a pair to fit exactly, and you must practice every chance you can get, until the twentieth comes. My little Gretel shall win the silver skates.”
Gretel could not help laughing with delight at the very idea.
“Hans! Gretel!” called out a familiar voice.
“Coming, Mother!”
They hastened toward the cottage, Hans still shaking the pieces of silver in his hand.
On the following day there was not a prouder nor a happier boy in all Holland than Hans Brinker as he watched his sister, with many a dexterous sweep, flying in and out among the skaters who at sundown thronged the canal. A warm jacket had been given her by the kindhearted Hilda, and the burst-out shoes had been cobbled into decency[46 - the burst-out shoes had been cobbled into decency – (разг.) порванные башмаки были приведены в порядок (починены)] by Dame Brinker. As the little creature darted backward and forward, flushed with enjoyment and quite unconscious of the many wondering glances bent upon her, she felt that the shining runners beneath her feet had suddenly turned earth into fairyland while “Hans, dear, good Hans!” echoed itself over and over again in her grateful heart.
“By den donder![47 - By den donder! – (голл.) Клянусь громом!]” exclaimed Peter van Holp to Carl Schummel, “but that little one in the red jacket and patched petticoat skates well. Gunst![48 - Gunst! – (голл.) Черт возьми!] She has toes on her heels and eyes in the back of her head! See her! It will be a joke if she gets in the race and beats Katrinka Flack, after all.”
“Hush! not so loud!” returned Carl, rather sneeringly. “That little lady in rags is the special pet of Hilda van Gleck. Those shining skates are her gift, if I make no mistake.”
“So! so!” exclaimed Peter with a radiant smile, for Hilda was his best friend. “She has been at her good work there too!” And Mynheer van Holp, after cutting a double figure eight on the ice, to say nothing of a huge P, then a jump and an H, glided onward until he found himself beside Hilda.
Hand in hand, they skated together, laughingly at first, then staidly talking in a low tone.
Strange to say, Peter van Holp soon arrived at a sudden conviction that his little sister needed a wooden chain just like Hilda’s.
Two days afterwards, on Saint Nicholas’s Eve, Hans, having burned three candle ends and cut his thumb into the bargain[49 - cut his thumb into the bargain – (разг.) к тому же еще и порезался], stood in the marketplace at Amsterdam, buying another pair of skates.
Shadows in the Home
Good Dame Brinker! As soon as the scanty dinner had been cleared away that noon, she had arrayed herself in her holiday attire in honor of Saint Nicholas. It will brighten the children, she thought to herself, and she was not mistaken. This festival dress had been worn very seldom during the past ten years; before that time it had done good service and had flourished at many a dance and kermis, when she was known, far and wide, as the pretty Meitje Klenck. The children had sometimes been granted rare glimpses of it as it lay in state in the old oaken chest. Faded and threadbare as it was, it was gorgeous in their eyes, with its white linen tucker, now gathered to her plump throat and vanishing beneath the trim bodice of blue homespun, and its reddish-brown skirt bordered with black. The knitted woolen mitts and the dainty cap showing her hair, which generally was hidden, made her seem almost like a princess to Gretel, while Master Hans grew staid and well-behaved as he gazed.
Soon the little maid, while braiding her own golden tresses, fairly danced around her mother in an ecstasy of admiration.
“Oh, Mother, Mother, Mother, how pretty you are! Look, Hans! Isn’t it just like a picture?”
“Just like a picture,” assented Hans cheerfully. “JUST like a picture – only I don’t like those stocking things on the hands.”
“Not like the mitts, brother Hans! Why, they’re very important. See, they cover up all the red[50 - cover up all the red – (разг.) закрывают красные пятна на руках]. Oh, Mother, how white your arm is where the mitt leaves off, whiter than mine, oh, ever so much whiter. I declare, Mother, the bodice is tight for you. You’re growing! You’re surely growing!”
Dame Brinker laughed.
“This was made long ago, lovey, when I wasn’t much thicker about the waist than a churn dasher. And how do you like the cap?” she asked, turning her head from side to side.
“Oh, EVER so much, Mother. It’s b-e-a-u-tiful! See, the father is looking!”
Was the father looking? Alas! only with a dull stare. His vrouw[51 - vrouw – (голл.) жена] turned toward him with a start, something like a blush rising to her cheeks, a questioning sparkle in her eye. The bright look died away in an instant.
“No, no.” She sighed. “He sees nothing. Come, Hans” – and the smile crept faintly back again – “don’t stand gaping at me all day, and the new skates waiting for you at Amsterdam.”
“Ah, Mother,” he answered, “you need so many things. Why should I buy skates?”
“Nonsense, child. The money was given to you on purpose, or the work was – it’s all the same thing. Go while the sun is high.”
“Yes, and hurry back, Hans!” laughed Gretel. “We’ll race on the canal tonight, if the mother lets us.”
At the very threshold he turned to say, “Your spinning wheel wants a new treadle, Mother.”
“You can make it[52 - You can make it – (зд.) Ты сам сможешь починить ее], Hans.”
“So I can. That will take no money. But you need feathers and wool and meal, and – ”
“There, there! That will do. Your silver cannot buy everything. Ah! Hans, if our stolen money would but come back on this bright Saint Nicholas’s Eve, how glad we would be! Only last night I prayed to the good saint – ”
“Mother!” interrupted Hans in dismay.
“Why not, Hans? Shame on you to reproach me for that! I’m as true a Protestant, in sooth, as any fine lady that walks into church, but it’s no wrong to turn sometimes to the good Saint Nicholas. Tut! It’s a likely story if one can’t do that, without one’s children flaring up at it – and he the boys’ and girls’ own saint. Hoot! Mayhap the colt is a steadier horse than the mare[53 - the colt is a steadier horse than the mare – ср. русск. яйца курицу не учат]?”
Hans knew his mother too well to offer a word in opposition when her voice quickened and sharpened as it did now (it was often sharp and quick when she spoke of the missing money), so he said gently, “And what did you ask of good Saint Nicholas, Mother?”
“Why, never to give the thieves a wink of sleep till they brought it back, to be sure, if he has the power to do such things, or else to brighten our wits that we might find it ourselves. Not a sight have I had of it since the day before the dear father was hurt – as you well know, Hans.”
“That I do, Mother,” he answered sadly, “though you have almost pulled down the cottage in searching.”
“Aye, but it was of no use,” moaned the dame. “‘Hiders make best finders.[54 - Hiders make best finders. – (посл.) Кто умеет прятать, умеет и находить.]’”
Hans started. “Do you think the father could tell aught?”
“Aye, indeed,” said Dame Brinker, nodding her head. “I think so, but that is no sign. I never hold the same belief in the matter two days. Mayhap the father paid it off for the great silver watch we have been guarding since that day. But, no – I’ll never believe it.”
“The watch was not worth a quarter of the money, Mother.”
“No, indeed, and your father was a shrewd man up to the last moment. He was too steady and thrifty for silly doings.”
“Where did the watch come from, I wonder,” muttered Hans, half to himself.
Dame Brinker shook her head and looked sadly toward her husband, who sat staring blankly at the floor. Gretel stood near him, knitting.
“That we shall never know, Hans. I have shown it to the father many a time, but he does not know it from a potato[55 - he does not know it from a potato – (разг.) он их не узнает]. When he came in that dreadful night to supper, he handed the watch to me and told me to take good care of it until he asked for it again. Just as he opened his lips to say more, Broom Klatterboost came flying in with word that the dike was in danger. Ah! The waters were terrible that Pinxter-week[56 - Pinxter-week – (уст.) неделя Святой Троицы]! My man, alack, caught up his tools and ran out. That was the last I ever saw of him in his right mind. He was brought in again by midnight, nearly dead, with his poor head all bruised and cut. The fever passed off in time, but never the dullness – THAT grew worse every day. We shall never know.”
Hans had heard all this before. More than once he had seen his mother, in hours of sore need, take the watch from its hiding place, half resolved to sell it, but she had always conquered the temptation.
“No, Hans,” she would say, “we must be nearer starvation than this before we turn faithless to the father!”
