I had not been in this family for two months when I noticed that the circumstances of the manager were no better than those of my parents. People frequently came to the door and asked me if they could see the manager. But as soon as I announced such a visitor the manager became furious, and told me to tell the people to go to hell. I soon got to know that these were all creditors7 asking for their money. It had been decided8 that I should receive eight shillings each month, and I could scarcely wait the day on which my wages fell due. When I left home I only possessed9 one pair of shoes, and these were almost in shreds10. Therefore I thought of getting a new pair of strong shoes and also a small notebook into which I could copy my verses, which, although my work was plentiful11, I did not stop writing. But yet I felt as lonely as before. I could easily have made acquaintances, but I did not wish to. The cook at the next house often spoke12 to me, and told me once that every second Sunday she went out with her sweetheart, who was a corporal; after which she asked me how many times I went out. I told her that I did not go out at all, and at this she looked at me with suspicion.
"Well, I never! then madam very likely allows your sweetheart into her drawing-room to visit you, eh?"
"So it is as far as that already. You are sick of men; I expect one of them has left you in the lurch15."
Without answering I turned my back on her, and afterwards we saw each other as little as possible.
I began to hate everybody with whom I came in contact: the baker16 because he had always some nasty words ready, which made me cast down my eyes and caused the blood to rush to my head; the milkman for the same reason; and the family itself because it was plain that the man was a liar17. To my great disappointment I had not received my wages, and so I wrote my verses, which were even more frequent now, on paper bags that had previously18 contained such things as rice, tea or sugar; and these verses I carefully kept and put away.
One day I had just come back from a walk with the children, and after I had put the youngest child into the cot I went into the kitchen to warm his milk; on entering the kitchen whom should I see but Madam standing19 calmly in front of the drawer in which I kept my belongings20. The drawer was open and my mistress held in her hands one of those paper bags that I knew so well. I was frightened and furious at the same time, but the respect which, at least outwardly, I had for that very indiscreet person prevented me from uttering any angry exclamation22. With an amused and astonished face she turned towards me and held up the bag, "You have never told me about these things," she said, seeming not at all troubled at being detected in that mean action. "If you please," I answered, trying to get hold of the bag, "it would not have been worth the while." She still wore the amused smile on her face. "No, let me have it, I am going to show it to my husband."
"For God's sake, no!" I cried in dismay.
"Why not? I like the verses very well."
The whole of my indignation and feelings of revolt immediately vanished. I felt like kneeling down and kissing the hem3 of her dress; her words had made me very happy, and from that day forward I recognized in her my guardian23 angel.
The fact that I as yet had not received my wages made me, it is true, feel very sad; but I told myself that this must be the manager's fault, for he ought to have provided her with the money to pay her servant. But she, and of this I was perfectly sure, never even caught sight of a single penny.
My mistress had shown the manager some of the verses discovered in the drawer, but he had laughed and responded that she had better not turn my head altogether since I was a good, hard-working girl, and that there were a far greater number of good poets than good servants in existence. The manager had to go away to Vienna nearly every week. One day when he had gone there as usual and the children were put to bed, Madam came down into the kitchen where I was busily washing up, and said: "Anna, I want to speak to you."
I thought that she was going to pay me my wages at last, and my heart beat faster. She sat down on a kitchen chair, and watched me silently for a while. Suddenly she began again:
I was startled and looked at her in surprise, but my conscience was clear, and so I answered quietly:
"I don't know what you mean, Madam."
She tapped the floor impatiently with her feet, and said:
"No pretences25, please. You remember that you told me once that you had no sweetheart, but that poem"—and oh, horror and dismay! she held up a paper bag on which I had written only the day before, and which I had never intended to show to anybody—"that poem does not say the same. Where is he? What profession is he in? Have you got his photo?"
I took my hands out of the hot dish-water, and covered my face.
"Don't be so silly," she continued. "I am a married woman, and you may trust me. Now, come, out with it," and while she said that she looked at me half commandingly, half lovingly. My hands dropped, and I noticed how very red and ugly they were. A new shame overcame me.
"It is true," I said at last.
"That you have got a sweetheart?"
"No; I mean that I have not got one."
"But this poem?" and, greatly puzzled, she looked down at the bag that was smelling of coffee.
"I don't know who he is, nor where he is;" and with sudden courage: "all I know is that he does exist."
"But, pray, where have you seen him, then?"
"I have never seen him at all, except in my thoughts."
"Oh" she exclaimed, and rising with a yawn, she began to leave the kitchen; but at the doorway26 she turned round once more and said: "As long as you know him only in your thoughts he can do you no harm."
Scarcely had the door closed behind her, when I flew at the drawer, pulled out the bags, and threw them into the fire. I watched until the flickering27 flames had destroyed every bit of them, then I leaned against the grey wall of the kitchen and wept bitterly.
Oh, for those tears in that grey kitchen! Oh, for those dreams in that grey kitchen! Every moment my heart yearned28 in incomprehensible longing21 for him. When would he come? Oh, when? When would he come to take me away, like the princes came in the fairy tales to woo a shepherdess or a kitchen-maid? I felt so sure that we were destined29 to meet some day, but it seemed a long, long way off. Sometimes a doubting fear would overcome me. How if the picture of my dreams—that picture so proud, so far away—should never turn into a form of flesh and blood, but ever be a dream! At such moments I was weak and foolish. I looked down at my hands, which were so red and ugly from washing-up and scrubbing. If no man would ever love me because of my red and ugly hands, what then? At that question my soul trembled, and tears thronged30 into my eyes. The next second, however, I smiled at my fears; a line or two out of my poems had fallen into my thoughts. What did it matter that my hands were red and ugly? What did hands matter at all? What had the heart, the mind, the soul of a man or woman in common with his or her hands? The man of my dreams was not a man who would love a girl only for her beauty. No; he would love me for the purity of my thoughts, the chastity of my longing, and for that wonderful part of my being that made me write my poems and dream all day.
Once on washing-day I was standing at the tub, when the door opened and my mother came in.
"Mother!" I cried, "why did you not write that you were coming?"
"We have not heard from you for so long, and when no letter arrived yesterday I became worried, and walked over," she said.
Only then I noticed her tired face and the dust that covered her rough shoes.
"Do you mean to say you walked all that distance?"
"Yes, I did;" and after a little pause; "we must be very careful with our pennies, business is so bad now."
I tried hard to keep back my tears.
"If I only had some money I would gladly give it to you," I said.
My mother shook her head.
"Don't be silly. You need your money yourself. Have you managed to save a little?"
"No," I answered very slowly.
"Let me see, you have been here for a year now"—she began to count by the aid of her fingers—"and your wages are eight shillings a month." She counted again. "That ought to have left you something. I am afraid you are careless, my dear."
Seeing that she looked at me with tender but reproachful eyes I cuddled down beside her.
"No," I said, "I am not careless; but—"
And then I told her that I had never received my real wages; only just enough to buy some very necessary articles of clothing, or to have a pair of shoes mended when it was urgently required. I felt very much ashamed to tell her this, since my own stubbornness was the cause of it all. My mother sat still, and after a long while she said:
"I am glad I have come. I have never been quite at my ease, and wanted to see for myself whether you are happy or not. I have heard of a very good situation, which would be suitable for you. You would have to look after three children, and to help the cook with the scrubbing. The household there is kept on a big scale, and you would learn a great deal."
I remembered the mad boy, who still managed to spit at me occasionally, and the sneers31 of the older boy.
"I would like to take that place," I said at last.
My mother got up from the linen-basket on which she had been sitting.
"It is easy enough," she replied. "I have arranged for a fortnight's notice with the manager, and if I give it to-day, you are free to go in two weeks' time. I have seen the lady of the other post; she is very kind, and does not mind waiting another three weeks. You might just as well come home for a week. Does that suit you?"
I nodded in silence, and we parted.
When I went into the kitchen later on, my mistress was sitting near the fire as if she had been waiting for me.
"I am sorry your mother wants you to leave me, but I have always said that this was too rough work for you. I hope you will like your new situation."
After the fortnight had passed I again packed up my things into brown paper, but the parcel seemed to be smaller than it had been a year ago. When I took my leave my mistress handed me ten shillings, and promised to send on the rest of the money due to me. Although I knew for a certainty that she would never do it, I thanked her very much for the ten shillings, which seemed to be an enormous sum.
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1
freckles
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| n.雀斑，斑点( freckle的名词复数 ) | |
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idiotic
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| adj.白痴的 | |
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hem
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| n.贴边，镶边；vt.缝贴边；(in)包围，限制 | |
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4
chattered
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| （人）喋喋不休( chatter的过去式 )； 唠叨； （牙齿）打战； （机器）震颤 | |
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unintelligible
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| adj.无法了解的，难解的，莫明其妙的 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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7
creditors
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| n.债权人，债主( creditor的名词复数 ) | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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10
shreds
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| v.撕碎，切碎( shred的第三人称单数 )；用撕毁机撕毁（文件） | |
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11
plentiful
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| adj.富裕的，丰富的 | |
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12
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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13
impudent
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| adj.鲁莽的，卑鄙的，厚颜无耻的 | |
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jeering
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| adj.嘲弄的，揶揄的v.嘲笑( jeer的现在分词 ) | |
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15
lurch
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| n.突然向前或旁边倒；v.蹒跚而行 | |
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16
baker
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| n.面包师 | |
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liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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18
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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19
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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belongings
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| n.私人物品，私人财物 | |
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21
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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22
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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23
guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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24
truthful
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| adj.真实的，说实话的，诚实的 | |
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25
pretences
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| n.假装( pretence的名词复数 )；作假；自命；自称 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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28
yearned
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| 渴望，切盼，向往( yearn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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29
destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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30
thronged
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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31
sneers
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| 讥笑的表情（言语）( sneer的名词复数 ) | |
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