Chapter 46 Under The Unbrella

While Laurie and Amy were taking conjugal strolls over velvet carpets, as they set their house in order, and planned a blissful future, Mr. Bhaer and Jo were enjoying promenades of a different sort, along muddy roads and sodden fields.

"I always do take a walk toward evening, and I don't know why I should give it up, just because I happen to meet the Professor on his way out," said Jo to herself, after two or three encounters, for though there were two paths to Meg's whichever one she took she was sure to meet him, either going or returning. He was always walking rapidly, and never seemed to see her until quite close, when he would look as if his short-sighted eyes had failed to recognize the approaching lady till that moment. Then, if she was going to Meg's he always had something for the babies. If her face was turned homeward, he had merely strolled down to see the river, and was just returning, unless they were tired of his frequent calls.

Under the circumstances, what could Jo do but greet him civilly, and invite him in? If she was tired of his visits, she concealed her weariness with perfect skill, and took care that there should be coffee for supper, "as Friedrich--I mean Mr. Bhaer--doesn't like tea."

By the second week, everyone knew perfectly well what was going on, yet everyone tried to look as if they were stone-blind to the changes in Jo's face. They never asked why she sang about her work, did up her hair three times a day, and got so blooming with her evening exercise. And no one seemed to have the slightest suspicion that Professor Bhaer, while talking philosophy with the father, was giving the daughter lessons in love.

Jo couldn't even lose her heart in a decorous manner, but sternly tried to quench her feelings, and failing to do so, led a somewhat agitated life. She was mortally afraid of being laughed at for surrendering, after her many and vehement declarations of independence. Laurie was her especial dread, but thanks to the new manager, he behaved with praiseworthy propriety, never called Mr. Bhaer 'a capital old fellow' in public, never alluded, in the remotest manner, to Jo's improved appearance, or expressed the least surprise at seeing the Professor's hat on the Marches' table nearly every evening. But he exulted in private and longed for the time to come when he could give Jo a piece of plate, with a bear and a ragged staff on it as an appropriate coat of arms.

For a fortnight, the Professor came and went with lover-like regularity. Then he stayed away for three whole days, and made no sign, a proceeding which caused everybody to look sober, and Jo to become pensive, at first, and then--alas for romance--very cross.

"Disgusted, I dare say, and gone home as suddenly as he came. It's nothing to me, of course, but I should think he would have come and bid us goodbye like a gentleman," she said to herself, with a despairing look at the gate, as she put on her things for the customary walk one dull afternoon.

"You'd better take the little umbrella, dear. It looks like rain," said her mother, observing that she had on her new bonnet, but not alluding to the fact.

"Yes, Marmee, do you want anything in town? I've got to run in and get some paper," returned Jo, pulling out the bow under her chin before the glass as an excuse for not looking at her mother.

"Yes, I want some twilled silesia, a paper of number nine needles, and two yards of narrow lavender ribbon. Have you got your thick boots on, and something warm under your cloak?"

"I believe so," answered Jo absently.

"If you happen to meet Mr. Bhaer, bring him home to tea. I quite long to see the dear man," added Mrs. March.

Jo heard that, but made no answer, except to kiss her mother, and walk rapidly away, thinking with a glow of gratitude, in spite of her heartache, "How good she is to me! What do girls do who haven't any mothers to help them through their troubles?"

The dry-goods stores were not down among the counting-houses, banks, and wholesale warerooms, where gentlemen most do congregate, but Jo found herself in that part of the city before she did a single errand, loitering along as if waiting for someone, examining engineering instruments in one window and samples of wool in another, with most unfeminine interest, tumbling over barrels, being half-smothered by descending bales, and hustled unceremoniously by busy men who looked as if they wondered 'how the deuce she got there'. A drop of rain on her cheek recalled her thoughts from baffled hopes to ruined ribbons. For the drops continued to fall, and being a woman as well as a lover, she felt that, though it was too late to save her heart, she might her bonnet. Now she remembered the little umbrella, which she had forgotten to take in her hurry to be off, but regret was unavailing, and nothing could be done but borrow one or submit to a drenching. She looked up at the lowering sky, down at the crimson bow already flecked with black, forward along the muddy street, then one long, lingering look behind, at a certain grimy warehouse, with 'Hoffmann, Swartz, & Co.' over the door, and said to herself, with a sternly reproachful air . . .

"It serves me right! what business had I to put on all my best things and come philandering down here, hoping to see the Professor? Jo, I'm ashamed of you! No, you shall not go there to borrow an umbrella, or find out where he is, from his friends. You shall trudge away, and do your errands in the rain, and if you catch your death and ruin your bonnet, it's no more than you deserve. Now then!"

With that she rushed across the street so impetuously that she narrowly escaped annihilation from a passing truck, and precipitated herself into the arms of a stately old gentleman, who said, "I beg pardon, ma'am," and looked mortally offended. Somewhat daunted, Jo righted herself, spread her handkerchief over the devoted ribbons, and putting temptation behind her, hurried on, with increasing dampness about the ankles, and much clashing of umbrellas overhead. The fact that a somewhat dilapidated blue one remained stationary above the unprotected bonnet attracted her attention, and looking up, she saw Mr. Bhaer looking down.

"I feel to know the strong-minded lady who goes so bravely under many horse noses, and so fast through much mud. What do you down here, my friend?"

"I'm shopping."

Mr. Bhaer smiled, as he glanced from the pickle factory on one side to the wholesale hide and leather concern on the other, but he only said politely, "You haf no umbrella. May I go also, and take for you the bundles?"

"Yes, thank you."

Jo's cheeks were as red as her ribbon, and she wondered what he thought of her, but she didn't care, for in a minute she found herself walking away arm in arm with her Professor, feeling as if the sun had suddenly burst out with uncommon brilliancy, that the world was all right again, and that one thoroughly happy woman was paddling through the wet that day.

"We thought you had gone," said Jo hastily, for she knew he was looking at her. Her bonnet wasn't big enough to hide her face, and she feared he might think the joy it betrayed unmaidenly.

"Did you believe that I should go with no farewell to those who haf been so heavenly kind to me?" he asked so reproachfully that she felt as if she had insulted him by the suggestion, and answered heartily . . .

"No, I didn't. I knew you were busy about your own affairs, but we rather missed you, Father and Mother especially."

"And you?"

"I'm always glad to see you, sir."

In her anxiety to keep her voice quite calm, Jo made it rather cool, and the frosty little monosyllable at the end seemed to chill the Professor, for his smile vanished, as he said gravely . . .

"I thank you, and come one more time before I go."

"You are going, then?"

"I haf no longer any business here, it is done."

"Successfully, I hope?" said Jo, for the bitterness of disappointment was in that short reply of his.

"I ought to think so, for I haf a way opened to me by which I can make my bread and gif my Junglings much help."

"Tell me, please! I like to know all about the--the boys," said Jo eagerly.

"That is so kind, I gladly tell you. My friends find for me a place in a college, where I teach as at home, and earn enough to make the way smooth for Franz and Emil. For this I should be grateful, should I not?"

"Indeed you should. How splendid it will be to have you doing what you like, and be able to see you often, and the boys!" cried Jo, clinging to the lads as an excuse for the satisfaction she could not help betraying.

"Ah! But we shall not meet often, I fear, this place is at the West."

"So far away!" and Jo left her skirts to their fate, as if it didn't matter now what became of her clothes or herself.

Mr. Bhaer could read several languages, but he had not learned to read women yet. He flattered himself that he knew Jo pretty well, and was, therefore, much amazed by the contradictions of voice, face, and manner, which she showed him in rapid succession that day, for she was in half a dozen different moods in the course of half an hour. When she met him she looked surprised, though it was impossible to help suspecting that she had come for that express purpose. When he offered her his arm, she took it with a look that filled him with delight, but when he asked if she missed him, she gave such a chilly, formal reply that despair fell upon him. On learning his good fortune she almost clapped her hands. Was the joy all for the boys? Then on hearing his destination, she said, "So far away!" in a tone of despair that lifted him on to a pinnacle of hope, but the next minute she tumbled him down again by observing, like one entirely absorbed in the matter . . .

"Here's the place for my errands. Will you come in? It won't take long."

Jo rather prided herself upon her shopping capabilities, and particularly wished to impress her escort with the neatness and dispatch with which she would accomplish the business. But owing to the flutter she was in, everything went amiss. She upset the tray of needles, forgot the silesia was to be 'twilled' till it was cut off, gave the wrong change, and covered herself with confusion by asking for lavender ribbon at the calico counter. Mr. Bhaer stood by, watching her blush and blunder, and as he watched, his own bewilderment seemed to subside, for he was beginning to see that on some occasions, women, like dreams, go by contraries.

When they came out, he put the parcel under his arm with a more cheerful aspect, and splashed through the puddles as if he rather enjoyed it on the whole.

"Should we no do a little what you call shopping for the babies, and haf a farewell feast tonight if I go for my last call at your so pleasant home?" he asked, stopping before a window full of fruit and flowers.

"What will we buy?" asked Jo, ignoring the latter part of his speech, and sniffing the mingled odors with an affectation of delight as they went in.

"May they haf oranges and figs?" asked Mr. Bhaer, with a paternal air.

"They eat them when they can get them."

"Do you care for nuts?"

"Like a squirrel."

"Hamburg grapes. Yes, we shall drink to the Fatherland in those?"

Jo frowned upon that piece of extravagance, and asked why he didn't buy a frail of dates, a cask of raisins, and a bag of almonds, and be done with it? Whereat Mr. Bhaer confiscated her purse, produced his own, and finished the marketing by buying several pounds of grapes, a pot of rosy daisies, and a pretty jar of honey, to be regarded in the light of a demijohn. Then distorting his pockets with knobby bundles, and giving her the flowers to hold, he put up the old umbrella, and they traveled on again.

"Miss Marsch, I haf a great favor to ask of you," began the Professor, after a moist promenade of half a block.

"Yes, sir?" and Jo's heart began to beat so hard she was afraid he would hear it.

"I am bold to say it in spite of the rain, because so short a time remains to me."

"Yes, sir," and Jo nearly crushed the small flowerpot with the sudden squeeze she gave it.

"I wish to get a little dress for my Tina, and I am too stupid to go alone. Will you kindly gif me a word of taste and help?"

"Yes, sir," and Jo felt as calm and cool all of a sudden as if she had stepped into a refrigerator.

"Perhaps also a shawl for Tina's mother, she is so poor and sick, and the husband is such a care. Yes, yes, a thick, warm shawl would be a friendly thing to take the little mother."

"I'll do it with pleasure, Mr. Bhaer." "I'm going very fast, and he's getting dearer every minute," added Jo to herself, then with a mental shake she entered into the business with an energy that was pleasant to behold.

Mr. Bhaer left it all to her, so she chose a pretty gown for Tina, and then ordered out the shawls. The clerk, being a married man, condescended to take an interest in the couple, who appeared to be shopping for their family.

"Your lady may prefer this. It's a superior article, a most desirable color, quite chaste and genteel," he said, shaking out a comfortable gray shawl, and throwing it over Jo's shoulders.

"Does this suit you, Mr. Bhaer?" she asked, turning her back to him, and feeling deeply grateful for the chance of hiding her face.

"Excellently well, we will haf it," answered the Professor, smiling to himself as he paid for it, while Jo continued to rummage the counters like a confirmed bargain-hunter.

"Now shall we go home?" he asked, as if the words were very pleasant to him.

"Yes, it's late, and I'm so tired." Jo's voice was more pathetic than she knew. For now the sun seemed to have gone in as suddenly as it came out, and the world grew muddy and miserable again, and for the first time she discovered that her feet were cold, her head ached, and that her heart was colder than the former, fuller of pain than the latter. Mr. Bhaer was going away, he only cared for her as a friend, it was all a mistake, and the sooner it was over the better. With this idea in her head, she hailed an approaching omnibus with such a hasty gesture that the daisies flew out of the pot and were badly damaged.

"This is not our omniboos," said the Professor, waving the loaded vehicle away, and stopping to pick up the poor little flowers.

"I beg your pardon. I didn't see the name distinctly. Never mind, I can walk. I'm used to plodding in the mud," returned Jo, winking hard, because she would have died rather than openly wipe her eyes.

Mr. Bhaer saw the drops on her cheeks, though she turned her head away. The sight seemed to touch him very much, for suddenly stooping down, he asked in a tone that meant a great deal, "Heart's dearest, why do you cry?"

Now, if Jo had not been new to this sort of thing she would have said she wasn't crying, had a cold in her head, or told any other feminine fib proper to the occasion. Instead of which, that undignified creature answered, with an irrepressible sob, "Because you are going away."

"Ach, mein Gott, that is so good!" cried Mr. Bhaer, managing to clasp his hands in spite of the umbrella and the bundles, "Jo, I haf nothing but much love to gif you. I came to see if you could care for it, and I waited to be sure that I was something more than a friend. Am I? Can you make a little place in your heart for old Fritz?" he added, all in one breath.

"Oh, yes!" said Jo, and he was quite satisfied, for she folded both hands over his arm, and looked up at him with an expression that plainly showed how happy she would be to walk through life beside him, even though she had no better shelter than the old umbrella, if he carried it.

It was certainly proposing under difficulties, for even if he had desired to do so, Mr. Bhaer could not go down upon his knees, on account of the mud. Neither could he offer Jo his hand, except figuratively, for both were full. Much less could he indulge in tender remonstrations in the open street, though he was near it. So the only way in which he could express his rapture was to look at her, with an expression which glorified his face to such a degree that there actually seemed to be little rainbows in the drops that sparkled on his beard. If he had not loved Jo very much, I don't think he could have done it then, for she looked far from lovely, with her skirts in a deplorable state, her rubber boots splashed to the ankle, and her bonnet a ruin. Fortunately, Mr. Bhaer considered her the most beautiful woman living, and she found him more "Jove-like" than ever, though his hatbrim was quite limp with the little rills trickling thence upon his shoulders (for he held the umbrella all over Jo), and every finger of his gloves needed mending.

Passers-by probably thought them a pair of harmless lunatics, for they entirely forgot to hail a bus, and strolled leisurely along, oblivious of deepening dusk and fog. Little they cared what anybody thought, for they were enjoying the happy hour that seldom comes but once in any life, the magical moment which bestows youth on the old, beauty on the plain, wealth on the poor, and gives human hearts a foretaste of heaven. The Professor looked as if he had conquered a kingdom, and the world had nothing more to offer him in the way of bliss. While Jo trudged beside him, feeling as if her place had always been there, and wondering how she ever could have chosen any other lot. Of course, she was the first to speak--intelligibly, I mean, for the emotional remarks which followed her impetuous "Oh, yes!" were not of a coherent or reportable character.

"Friedrich, why didn't you . . ."

"Ah, heaven, she gifs me the name that no one speaks since Minna died!" cried the Professor, pausing in a puddle to regard her with grateful delight.

"I always call you so to myself--I forgot, but I won't unless you like it."

"Like it? It is more sweet to me than I can tell. Say 'thou', also, and I shall say your language is almost as beautiful as mine."

"Isn't 'thou' a little sentimental?" asked Jo, privately thinking it a lovely monosyllable.

"Sentimental? Yes. Thank Gott, we Germans believe in sentiment, and keep ourselves young mit it. Your English 'you' is so cold, say 'thou', heart's dearest, it means so much to me," pleaded Mr. Bhaer, more like a romantic student than a grave professor.

"Well, then, why didn't thou tell me all this sooner?" asked Jo bashfully.

"Now I shall haf to show thee all my heart, and I so gladly will, because thou must take care of it hereafter. See, then, my Jo--ah, the dear, funny little name--I had a wish to tell something the day I said goodbye in New York, but I thought the handsome friend was betrothed to thee, and so I spoke not. Wouldst thou have said 'Yes', then, if I had spoken?"

"I don't know. I'm afraid not, for I didn't have any heart just then."

"Prut! That I do not believe. It was asleep till the fairy prince came through the wood, and waked it up. Ah, well, 'Die erste Liebe ist die beste', but that I should not expect."

"Yes, the first love is the best, but be so contented, for I never had another. Teddy was only a boy, and soon got over his little fancy," said Jo, anxious to correct the Professor's mistake.

"Good! Then I shall rest happy, and be sure that thou givest me all. I haf waited so long, I am grown selfish, as thou wilt find, Professorin."

"I like that," cried Jo, delighted with her new name. "Now tell me what brought you, at last, just when I wanted you?"

"This," and Mr. Bhaer took a little worn paper out of his waistcoat pocket.

Jo unfolded it, and looked much abashed, for it was one of her own contributions to a paper that paid for poetry, which accounted for her sending it an occasional attempt.

"How could that bring you?" she asked, wondering what he meant.

"I found it by chance. I knew it by the names and the initials, and in it there was one little verse that seemed to call me. Read and find him. I will see that you go not in the wet."

IN THE GARRET

Four little chests all in a row, Dim with dust, and worn by time, All fashioned and filled, long ago, By children now in their prime. Four little keys hung side by side, With faded ribbons, brave and gay When fastened there, with childish pride, Long ago, on a rainy day. Four little names, one on each lid, Carved out by a boyish hand, And underneath there lieth hid Histories of the happpy band Once playing here, and pausing oft To hear the sweet refrain, That came and went on the roof aloft, In the falling summer rain.

"Meg" on the first lid, smooth and fair. I look in with loving eyes, For folded here, with well-known care, A goodly gathering lies, The record of a peaceful life-- Gifts to gentle child and girl, A bridal gown, lines to a wife, A tiny shoe, a baby curl. No toys in this first chest remain, For all are carried away, In their old age, to join again In another small Meg's play. Ah, happy mother! Well I know You hear, like a sweet refrain, Lullabies ever soft and low In the falling summer rain.

"Jo" on the next lid, scratched and worn, And within a motley store Of headless dolls, of schoolbooks torn, Birds and beasts that speak no more, Spoils brought home from the fairy ground Only trod by youthful feet, Dreams of a future never found, Memories of a past still sweet, Half-writ poems, stories wild, April letters, warm and cold, Diaries of a wilful child, Hints of a woman early old, A woman in a lonely home, Hearing, like a sad refrain-- "Be worthy, love, and love will come," In the falling summer rain.

My Beth! the dust is always swept From the lid that bears your name, As if by loving eyes that wept, By careful hands that often came. Death cannonized for us one saint, Ever less human than divine, And still we lay, with tender plaint, Relics in this household shrine-- The silver bell, so seldom rung, The little cap which last she wore, The fair, dead Catherine that hung By angels borne above her door. The songs she sang, without lament, In her prison-house of pain, Forever are they sweetly blent With the falling summer rain.

Upon the last lid's polished field-- Legend now both fair and true A gallant knight bears on his shield, "Amy" in letters gold and blue. Within lie snoods that bound her hair, Slippers that have danced their last, Faded flowers laid by with care, Fans whose airy toils are past, Gay valentines, all ardent flames, Trifles that have borne their part In girlish hopes and fears and shames, The record of a maiden heart Now learning fairer, truer spells, Hearing, like a blithe refrain, The silver sound of bridal bells In the falling summer rain.

Four little chests all in a row, Dim with dust, and worn by time, Four women, taught by weal and woe To love and labor in their prime. Four sisters, parted for an hour, None lost, one only gone before, Made by love's immortal power, Nearest and dearest evermore. Oh, when these hidden stores of ours Lie open to the Father's sight, May they be rich in golden hours, Deeds that show fairer for the light, Lives whose brave music long shall ring, Like a spirit-stirring strain, Souls that shall gladly soar and sing In the long sunshine after rain.

"It's very bad poetry, but I felt it when I wrote it, one day when I was very lonely, and had a good cry on a rag bag. I never thought it would go where it could tell tales," said Jo, tearing up the verses the Professor had treasured so long.

"Let it go, it has done it's duty, and I will haf a fresh one when I read all the brown book in which she keeps her little secrets," said Mr. Bhaer with a smile as he watched the fragments fly away on the wind. "Yes," he added earnestly, "I read that, and I think to myself, She has a sorrow, she is lonely, she would find comfort in true love. I haf a heart full, full for her. Shall I not go and say, 'If this is not too poor a thing to gif for what I shall hope to receive, take it in Gott's name?'"

"And so you came to find that it was not too poor, but the one precious thing I needed," whispered Jo.

"I had no courage to think that at first, heavenly kind as was your welcome to me. But soon I began to hope, and then I said, 'I will haf her if I die for it,' and so I will!" cried Mr. Bhaer, with a defiant nod, as if the walls of mist closing round them were barriers which he was to surmount or valiantly knock down.

Jo thought that was splendid, and resolved to be worthy of her knight, though he did not come prancing on a charger in gorgeous array.

"What made you stay away so long?" she asked presently, finding it so pleasant to ask confidential questions and get delightful answers that she could not keep silent.

"It was not easy, but I could not find the heart to take you from that so happy home until I could haf a prospect of one to gif you, after much time, perhaps, and hard work. How could I ask you to gif up so much for a poor old fellow, who has no fortune but a little learning?"

"I'm glad you are poor. I couldn't bear a rich husband," said Jo decidedly, adding in a softer tone, "Don't fear poverty. I've known it long enough to lose my dread and be happy working for those I love, and don't call yourself old--forty is the prime of life. I couldn't help loving you if you were seventy!"

The Professor found that so touching that he would have been glad of his handkerchief, if he could have got at it. As he couldn't, Jo wiped his eyes for him, and said, laughing, as she took away a bundle or two . . .

"I may be strong-minded, but no one can say I'm out of my sphere now, for woman's special mission is supposed to be drying tears and bearing burdens. I'm to carry my share, Friedrich, and help to earn the home. Make up your mind to that, or I'll never go," she added resolutely, as he tried to reclaim his load.

"We shall see. Haf you patience to wait a long time, Jo? I must go away and do my work alone. I must help my boys first, because, even for you, I may not break my word to Minna. Can you forgif that, and be happy while we hope and wait?"

"Yes, I know I can, for we love one another, and that makes all the rest easy to bear. I have my duty, also, and my work. I couldn't enjoy myself if I neglected them even for you, so there's no need of hurry or impatience. You can do your part out West, I can do mine here, and both be happy hoping for the best, and leaving the future to be as God wills."

"Ah! Thou gifest me such hope and courage, and I haf nothing to gif back but a full heart and these empty hands," cried the Professor, quite overcome.

Jo never, never would learn to be proper, for when he said that as they stood upon the steps, she just put both hands into his, whispering tenderly, "Not empty now," and stooping down, kissed her Friedrich under the umbrella. It was dreadful, but she would have done it if the flock of draggle-tailed sparrows on the hedge had been human beings, for she was very far gone indeed, and quite regardless of everything but her own happiness. Though it came in such a very simple guise, that was the crowning moment of both their lives, when, turning from the night and storm and loneliness to the household light and warmth and peace waiting to receive them, with a glad "Welcome home!" Jo led her lover in, and shut the door.

 

劳里和艾美夫妻俩在天鹅绒地毯上安然踱步，为幸福的未来筹划，把个家料理得井然有序。与此同时，巴尔先生和乔走在泥泞的路上，潮湿的田野中，享受着一种不同的散步的情趣。

“傍晚时，我总是要散步的。我不知道为什么只是因为常碰巧遇到教授出门我就得放弃，”两三次路遇教授后，乔自言自语道。尽管梅格家有两条道可走，可是不管她走哪条，肯定会遇上他，无论来去都是这样。他总是走得很快，而且似乎不到走到相当近，就看不见她，仿佛他的近视眼使他到那一刻才认出走近的女士。然后，要是乔去梅格家，他总有些东西给两个孩子，要是她面朝家的方向，他便只是散步过来看看小河的，正打算回去呢，他担心他的频繁来访会使他们厌烦。

在这种情况下，除了有礼貌地和他打招呼，邀请他进家，乔还能做什么呢？若是她真的厌烦他的来访，她也会掩饰得天衣无缝。她留意晚餐应该有咖啡喝，“因为弗里德里克--我是指巴尔先生- 不喜欢喝茶"。

到了第二个星期，每个人都完全知道了正在发生什么事情。可是，大家都试图做出对乔脸色的变化全然不察的样子。

他们从不问她为什么一边做活一边唱歌，一天要梳三遍头，为什么傍晚散步脸红起来。巴尔教授一边和爸爸谈哲学，一边给女儿上爱情课。似乎没有谁对此有丝毫的怀疑。

乔现在已是六神无主，不能保持昔日庄重的常态了。她试图对自己的感情采取断然措施，可她做不到，而愈加心浮气躁。过去她多次强烈宣布要独立，而现在，她非常害怕因为自食其言而让人笑话。她特别怕劳里会笑话她，幸好有人管着他，他的言行举止倒没有什么出格、值得非议之处。公开场合他从不称巴尔先生为"极好的老头儿"，也不以任何方式暗示乔大有变化。看到教授的帽子几乎是每天晚上都出现在马奇家客厅的桌子上，他也没有一点儿大惊小怪的表示。他心中欣喜不已，企盼那个时候来临，他好送给乔一只馈赠盘，上面画有一个莽汉和一根破权杖，就像是枚盾形纹章，再合适不过了。

两个星起来，教授真像情人那样很有规律地来往不停。后来又整整三天没有露面，音信杳然。这使得大家心情一下子紧张起来。乔开始有些忧心忡忡，然后- 唉呀，爱情！ -窝火透了。

“我敢说，他反感我了。和来时一样突然回家去了。当然，也没什么。可是我倒是认为，他本应该像个绅士那样来向我们道别的，”一个阴天的下午，她失望地看着大门，自言自语道，一边穿戴着准备像往常那样出去散步。

“你最好带上那把小雨伞，亲爱的。看来要下雨，”妈妈说。她注意到乔戴上了新帽子，但是没提帽子的事。

“是的，妈咪。你要买什么吗？我要进城买些稿纸，”乔回答。她在镜子前拉开下巴上的帽结，不让妈妈正看自己的脸。

“要的，我要买些斜纹亚麻布，一盒九号针，还要两码淡紫色丝带。你穿上厚靴子了吗？外套里面可穿了些暖和的衣服？”“我想，穿了，”乔心不在焉地回答。

“要是你碰巧遇上巴尔先生，就带他回家来喝茶。我还真想见到那亲切可爱的人呢。”这句话乔听见了，但却没作回答。她只是亲了妈妈一下，便迅速走开了。她尽管伤心，还是带着感激的喜悦想道：“她对我多好啊！那些没有妈妈帮助度过难关的姑娘们可怎么办啊？”先生们往往聚集在事务室、银行和批发商品贮藏室。卖绸缎呢绒的商店不和上述地方位于一处，乔却发现自己不觉走到了那些地方。她一件差事没干，沿路闲逛，好像在等着什么人。她带着非常不适合女性的兴趣浏览着这个橱窗里的机器仪表，那个橱窗里的羊毛样品。她打翻了货桶，几乎被下卸的货包压倒，忙碌着的男人们没礼貌地乱推着她，他们的神情好像奇怪"她究竟怎么到了这里？”她脸上感到了一滴雨点，这把她的思绪从受挫的希望拉回到毁了的丝带。雨点继续在落，她作为女人又作为情人的细心柔肠让她感觉到了雨点。虽然挽救破碎的心为时已晚，但也许还能挽救她的帽子。现在她记起了那把小雨桑仓促上路时她忘了带上它。可是后悔无益。没什么好做的，要么去借一把伞，要么任由雨淋。她抬头看了看阴霾的天气，低头看看已经弄上点点黑斑的的红色帽结，又朝前看看泥泞的街道，然后踌躇地回头久久看着一家肮脏的货栈，货栈门上写着"霍夫曼斯瓦兹联营公司"。乔带着苛刻的自责神情自言自语道- “我活该如此！我有什么理由要穿戴上我最好的衣帽，跑到这里来卖俏，希望见到教授？乔，我为你感到羞耻！不，不能去那里借伞，也不能向他的朋友打听他在哪里。就在雨中跋涉，办你的事吧。假如你因淋雨患重伤风而死，并且淋毁了帽子，也一点儿不冤枉。就这么办吧！”这样想着，她猛地冲往街对面，差一点被一辆开过来的卡车轧死。她一下撞进一个威严的老先生怀里，老先生有些生气，他说道：“对不起，小姐。”乔有点胆怯了，她站直身，将手帕盖住那注定要遭殃的丝带，把诱惑置于脑后，慌不择路地走着。她脚踝越来越湿，头顶上行人的雨伞撞来撞去。一把有些旧的蓝伞在她没有保护的帽子上定住不动了，一下子吸引了她的注意力。她抬起头来，看到巴尔先生正朝下看着她。

“我想知道那个意志坚强的女士是谁，她那么勇敢地在这许多马车前奔走，这么快地在烂泥路上穿行。你到这里来做什么，我的朋友？”“我在买东西。”巴尔先生笑了。他的眼光从街道一边的泡菜坊扫到另一边的皮革批发商行。但是他只礼貌地说道：“你没有伞，我可以和你一起去，帮你拿东西吗？”“可以，谢谢。“乔的面颊像她的丝带一般红了，她不知道他怎么想她的，可是她不在乎。一会儿她便发现自己和她的教授在手挽手走。

她感到太阳似乎破云而出，光芒耀眼，世界又恢复了正常。这个正在涉水走着的妇人幸福透顶。

“我们还以为你已经走了呢，”乔急急地说道，她知道他在看着她。她的帽子够大，能藏得住她的脸，她担心她的脸泄露出高兴的神情，使他认为缺乏少女气。

“你们对我那么好，你相信我竟会不辞而别？”他带着那种责备语气问。她感到好像那个暗示侮辱了他。她由衷地答道-—“不，我不相信。我知道你忙着自己的事。可是我们非常想见你--特别是爸爸、妈妈。”“那你呢？”“见到你我总是高兴的，先生。”乔急切地想保持声音平稳，结果话说得非常冷静，句末那个无情的小单音节似乎使教授扫兴，他的笑容消失了，他严肃地说道- “谢谢你。我走前会再去一次。”“那么，你要走？”“我这里没事了，已经完了。”

“我希望你成功了？”乔说。教授的简短回答里有着失望的痛楚。

“我可以这样想，因为我找到了一条路，可以挣得面包，大大帮助我的Ｊüｎｇｌｉｎｇｓ。”“请告诉我！我想知道一切- 孩子们的事，”乔急切地说。

“你太客气了，我乐意告诉你。朋友们为我在大学谋到个职位，我将在那里和在家那样教书，挣得足够的钱为弗朗兹和埃米尔铺平道路。我为这事感到高兴，该不该这样？”“你真的该高兴。你能做你喜欢的事，我们又能常见到你，还有孩子们，这太妙了！”乔叫着，她情不自禁地露出了满意的神色，却拉着孩子们作幌子。

“噢！可是，我担心我们不会常见的，大学在西部。”“那么远啊！”乔放下裙裾，任其听命了，好像她不在乎她的衣服和她自己有什么遭遇。

巴尔先生能读几种语言，可是还不曾学过读懂妇女。他自以为相当了解乔。所以，那天乔的声音、脸色、态度相互矛盾，使他大为惊讶，她接二连三地露出矛盾，半个小时内心境变换了五六次。遇到他时她看上去惊喜，虽然不由得让人怀疑她是为那个采买的目的而来的。当他把胳膊伸给她时，她挽上胳膊的表情使她充满喜悦。可是当他问及她是否想他时，她的回答那样正式，让人扫兴，以致绝望笼罩了他。获悉他的好运，她几乎拍起手来，那完全是为孩子们高兴吗？然后，听说了他的目的地，她又说：“那么远啊！”她绝望的语调将他举到了希望的顶峰。可是，转眼间她又使他掉落下来。她像完全沉浸在差事中那样说“我采买东西的地方到了。你进来吗？要不了多长时间。”乔很为她的采买能力自豪。她特别想麻利、敏捷地完成差事，给她的陪伴留下深刻印象。可是，由于她心绪不宁，结果事事别扭。她打翻了针盒，忘了要买的亚麻布是"斜纹的"，还找错了零钱。她在印花布柜台要买淡紫色丝带，自己弄得糊里糊涂。巴尔先生站在一旁，看着她红着脸，犯着错。

看着看着，他自己的困惑似乎减轻了，因为他开始看出，在有的场合，女人们像梦一样，正好相反。

他们出来时，他将包裹夹在胳膊下，脸色开朗起来。他踩着水坑走着，好像这一切总的说来他很欣赏。

“我们要不要为两个孩子'采买'点什么？要是我今晚去你们那个快乐之家，做最后一次拜访，来一个告别宴会，你说好吗？”他停在一个摆满水果和鲜花的橱窗前问道。

“我们买什么呢？”乔问。她忽视了她问话的后一部分，走进店里装作愉快的样子闻着水果和鲜花的混合香味。

“他们吃不吃桔子和无花果？”巴尔先生带着父亲般的神气问。

“有多少吃多少。”

“你喜吃坚果吗？”

“像松鼠一样喜欢。”

“葡萄汉堡包，是的，我们将用这些东西为祖国干杯，好吗？”乔觉得这有些奢侈而皱起了眉头。她问他为什么不买一草篓枣子、一罐葡萄干、一袋扁桃，然后就此打祝于是，巴尔先生没收了她的钱包，拿出了他自己的。他买子几磅葡萄、一盆粉红色雏菊，还有漂亮的一瓶蜂蜜，说它漂亮是从盛它的小颈大起来看的。就这样购买完毕。他的口袋被些小球形物品撑得变了形。他把花交给乔拿着，自己撑开那把阳伞，两个人继续行路。

“马奇小姐，我有件大事要求你，”他们在湿地里走了半个街区后，教授开了口。

“说吧，先生。”乔的心跳得那么响，她担心他会听见。

“虽然在下雨，我还是得斗胆相求，因为我只剩下这么短时间了。”“是的，先生。”乔突然捏了下花盆，差点将花盆弄碎。

“我想为我的蒂娜买件小衣服，可是我太笨，自己去买不好。能请你帮忙参谋一下吗？”“好的，先生。”乔突然感到镇定冷静下来，仿佛跨进了冰箱。

“也可能还为蒂娜的母亲买条披肩。她那么穷，丈夫又是那样的一个拖累。对了，对了，带给那小母亲一条暖和的披肩将会有帮助的。”“我会乐意效劳的，巴尔先生。我很快就要在他心中消失了，而他却每分钟越来越可爱了，”乔接着对自己说。然后，她带着思想上受到的打击，十足热心地为他参谋起来，好像什么也没发生。

巴尔先生一切都交给她办了。于是，她为蒂娜选了一件漂亮的长外衣，然后要店员拿出披肩来看。店员是个结过婚的人，他放下架子，对这一对人产生了兴趣，他们似乎是在为他们的家庭采购。

“你夫人也许更喜欢这一条，这披肩质量上乘，颜色也很好，非常高雅、时髦，”他说着将一条柔软的灰色披肩抖开，披在了乔的肩上。

“这条合你意吗，巴尔先生？”她将背转向他问道，她深深感激这个使她藏起脸的机会。

“非常合意，我们就买这一条，”教授回答。他一边付钱一边暗笑着。而乔继续搜查着一个个柜台，像是个改不了的到处找便宜货的人。

“现在我们该回家了吧？”他问，好像这话在他听来非常悦耳。

“是的，不早了，而且我这么累。”乔的声音不知不觉感伤起来，因为，现在太阳就像刚才出来那样，突然钻进去了，她第一次发现，她的双脚冰冷，头也作痛，她的心比脚更冷，心中的疼痛比头疼更甚。巴尔先生就要离开她了。他喜欢她，只是作为朋友，这一切都是个错误。结束得越早越好。她脑中这样想着，便叫住了一辆开近的公共马车。她叫车的手势那样仓促，使得雏菊飞出了花盆，糟糕地毁坏了。

“这不是我们要乘的马车，”教授说，他挥手让满载乘客的马车开走，俯身去拾那些可怜的小花们。

“请原谅。我没看清车牌。没关系，我能走，我习惯在泥地里跋涉，”乔回答说。她使劲眨着眼，因为她宁肯去死也不愿公开地擦眼睛。

虽然她扭转了头，巴尔先生还是看到了她面颊上的泪滴。

这情景显然大大感动了他。他突然俯下身来，意味深长地问道：“我最亲爱的，你为什么哭了？”

乔若不是因为初涉爱河，她会说她不是在哭，而是鼻子有点不适，淌清鼻涕，或者扯个别的适时的女人家小谎。可是她没那样说，却遏制不住地抽泣着，有损尊严地回答：“因为你要走了。”“Ａｃｈ，ｍｅｉｎＧｏｔｔ，那太好了，”巴尔先生叫了起来。他顾不上雨伞和物品，费劲地拍起手来。”乔，除了许多的爱，我没什么给你的了。我来是看看你可在乎我的爱的。我等待着能确信这一点，我和你的关系超出朋友，是不是这样？你能为老弗里茨在心中留个小位置吗？”他一口气说完这些话。

“哦，好的！”乔说。他非常满足了。她双手抱住了他的胳膊，脸上的表情清楚地显示出，即使没有了那把旧伞的遮蔽，能和他并肩穿越人生，也是她无上的幸福。

这种求婚方式当然困难，因为，即便巴尔先生愿意下跪，地上的烂泥也使他不能这么做。用比喻的说法，他也不能伸手给乔向她求婚，因为他双手都拿着东西。更不用说在光天化日之下忘情地表达爱慕之心，尽管他差一点就这样做了。所以，唯一能表达他狂喜心情的方式便是看着她，那是种容光焕发的表情。实际上，他胡子上闪着的亮晶晶的泪光里似乎有着小彩虹。假若他不是那样深爱着乔，我想，当时他不可能那样的。她看着决非翩翩淑女，她的裙子处于悲惨的境地，胶靴上泥巴一直溅到脚脖子，帽子也一塌糊涂。幸好，在巴尔先生眼中，她是世上活着的女人中最美丽的。而她也发现他比以前更"像朱庇特"了，虽然他的帽边差不多卷曲了，小溪从那上面流向他的双肩（因为他把伞全给乔遮雨了），而且他手套的每一个指头都需要缝补。

路人也许会以为他们俩是一对没有恶意的神经病，因为，他们完全忘了叫车，忘了渐浓的暮色与雾，从容不迫地信步走着。他们根本不在乎别人怎样看他们，他们沉浸在幸福的时光里，这种时光极少来临，一生只有这一次。这个神奇的时刻给老人青春，给丑人美貌，给穷人财富，让人类预先尝到天堂的滋味。教授看上去像是征服了一个王国。他幸福之至，尘世赐予他的没有比这更多的了。乔在他身边沉重地跋涉着，她感到好像她的位置一直就该在这里，纳闷她以前怎么会选择别的命运。当然，是她先开口说话 -我是说，这可以理解，因为，她先激动地说：“哦，好的！”随后又动情地说话，这不太一致，也不值得报道。

“弗里德里克，你为什么不 ”

“哦，天哪，她叫我那个名字，明娜死后还没有谁那样叫过我！”教授叫着。他在一个水坑停下，怀着满心欢喜与感激看着她。

“我总是在心里这样叫你--我忘了，但是，除非你喜欢，我不会这样叫了。”“喜欢？我说不上那有多么甜蜜。你也说'卿'，我得说，你们的语言几乎和我的一样美丽。”“'卿'是不是有点感情用事？”乔问，她暗自认为那是个可爱的单音节。

“感情用事？是的，感谢上帝，我们德国人信奉感情用事，用它使我们保持年轻。你们英语中的'你'那么冷淡，说'卿'，最亲爱的，它对我意味深长，”巴尔先生恳求道，他更像个谈情说爱的学生，而不像个严肃的教授。

“那么，好吧。卿为什么不早点告诉我这些？”乔羞怯地问道。

“现在我让你洞悉了我所有的心思，我也非常高兴这么做，因为从此以后卿得照拂它。明白了吗？我的乔- 啊，那可爱、有趣的小名字--那天在纽约和你道别时，我就想对你说些什么。可是，我以为那漂亮的朋友和你订了婚，所以我没说什么。假如我那时说了，卿会回答'好的'吗？”“我不知道。恐怕我不会说的。那时我一点心思也没有。”“哦！我不相信。它睡着了，直到那可爱的王子穿过树林，将它弄醒。啊，是的。 'ＤｉｅｅｒｓｔｅＬｉｅｂｅｉｓｔｄｉｅｂｅｓｔｅ，，可是我不应那样企盼。”“是的，初恋确实最珍贵，所以你就知足吧，因为我从来没有另外的恋爱。特迪只是个男孩，我很快就打消掉了他的幻想，”乔说。她急于纠正教授的错误。

“好！那我就满足了。我确信你给了我全部的爱。我等待了那么长时间，卿会发现，我变得自私了，教授夫人。”“我喜欢那个称呼，”乔叫着，为她的新名字高兴，”现在告诉你，正在我最需要你的时候，是什么使你终于来到这里的？”“是这个。”巴尔先生从背心口袋里掏出一张揉皱了的小纸片。

乔打开了纸片，神情非常羞怯，因为那是她自己向一家诗歌报投的稿件之一，说明她偶尔尝试投稿。

“那怎么使你来的呢？”她问。她不明白他的意思。

“我偶然发现的。我从那些名字和缩写的署名知道了它。

诗中有一小节似乎在召唤我。读一读找到它吧。我看着你别踩到水里。”乔服从了。她匆匆浏览着诗行。她的诗命名为 -在阁楼上四只小箱排成排，尘土使之褪色，岁月使之损坏，很久以前把它们做成又填塞，昔日小主人而今都向青春迈。

四把小钥匙并排挂，

褪色丝带曾经漂亮又鲜艳，

满心欢喜系上绸丝带，

那是好久好久以前的一个下雨天。

四个小名字分刻在箱盖，

由幼稚的手儿刻出来，

箱子底下存放着

快乐的往事

嬉戏于斯，童稚相无猜，

倾听悦耳之节拍，

击打在屋顶上，

那是夏雨嗒嗒地落下来。

“梅格"刻在第一只箱，光滑又明白。

我深情往里看，

细心叠放，巧手如裁，

收藏丰赡，

把和平的生活记载-—

馈赠与听话的男孩与女孩。

一件婚礼服，一纸婚姻书。

一只袖珍鞋，一绺婴儿发。

第一只箱子里没有玩具足可夸，

它们被取走，

虽旧复可嘉，

另有小梅格玩着它。

我心知，哦，快乐的小妈妈！

你当听见，妙曼摇篮曲，

节拍轻柔如夏雨。

“乔"的名字刻在下一只，漫漶又潦草，

箱内乱糟糟，

破损的教科书，无头的玩偶，

不再说话的飞鸟与走兽；

还有来自童话世界的泥土，

曾有年轻的脚丫上面走。

未来梦已远，

往事尚依稀；

诗稿仅存半，故事没边际，

冷冷热热，信件也少正经意，

任性的孩子写日记，

而今斑驳青春期；

此身孤寂，

仔细听，如泣如诉悲凉意-

“我当被爱，爱情宁有期？”

声声滴落夏雨季。

我的贝思！这只箱差刻有你的名，

洁净无纤尘，

热泪常涤洗，

纤手爱抚勤。

死神认你作圣徒，

神性超然绝凡尘。

无边哀情中我们默然拾掇，

神龛中你遗物如圣

银玲不再摇响，

你的小帽，临终犹戴头顶，

还有永寂的凯瑟琳，依然美丽，

与门上的天使为邻；

监狱般的痛苦，

囚不住你无悲的歌声，

永远地温柔轻盈，

与夏雨相和相应。

最后一只箱盖熠熠闪光-

传说成真不再是梦想，

那是一个勇敢骑士的盾牌，

“艾美"，字迹瓦蓝、金黄。

箱中放着她的束发带，

还有舞会之后的舞鞋，

小心放置的花儿已经枯萎，

扇子曾为之效力；

情人节花哨卡片，余炽犹燃，

林林总总，每一件都曾分享，

一个女孩的担心、娇羞与希望，

记录下少女的心路辉煌。

如今出水芙蓉娇美万状，

听！婚礼钟声银铃般回响荡漾，

欢乐的节拍，

如夏雨清澈滴响。

四只小箱排成排，

尘土使之褪色，岁月使之损坏，

祸福使得她们明白，

去爱，去劳作，在她们风华年代。

姐妹四人，暂有离分，

未曾相失，只有一个先行。

不朽的爱之神力，

使他与姐妹更亲更近。

哦，箱中的物品，

请求上帝赐与灵光，

赐与她们幸福安康，

更美更善更久长，

生命的华章经久奏响，

如旋律令心潮激荡，

心灵在飞翔欢唱，

永久沐浴着雨后艳阳。

Ｊ．Ｍ。

“那是首很蹩脚的诗，但我是有感而作的。那一天，我感到非常孤独，靠在装破布的袋子上大哭了一常我绝没有想到它能讲述故事，”乔说着，把教授珍藏这许久的诗撕碎了。

“让它去吧，它已完成了使命。等我读完她记录小秘密的褐皮书，我会读到她的新作的，”教授笑着说。他注视着纸片在风中飞散。”是的，”他诚挚地补充道， “我读了那首诗，心里想，她有痛苦，她感到孤独，她将在真正的爱情中找到安慰。我心中充满了爱，充满了对她的爱，难道我不应该去对她说：'假如这爱不是太微不足道，以上帝的名义，接受它吧，我也希望能接受到爱。'”“所以你就来查明它是不是微不足道，结果发现那是我需要的宝贵东西，”乔低声地说。

“虽然你那样客气地欢迎我，开始我没有勇气那样想。可是不久我就开始希望。然后我就对自己说：'即便为爱而死我也要得到！'我会那么做的！”巴尔先生叫道。他挑战似地点着头，仿佛笼罩他们的薄雾便是障碍，要他去克服或者勇敢地将之摧毁。

乔想，那太美妙了。她决心无愧于她的骑士，虽然他并没有衣着华丽，骑着战马昂然前行。

“什么事让你离开这么久？”过了一会儿，她问道。她发现，问一些机密问题，得到愉快的回答，这多么悦人，所以她保持不了安静。

“让我离开实属不易。但是，我没有勇气将你从那么幸福的家里带走，直到我能有希望为你提供一个幸福之家。那要经过很长时间，也许还得努力工作。我除了一点点学问，没有财产。我怎能要求你为我这么个又穷又老的人放弃那么多东西呢？”“你穷我乐意。我忍受不了一个有钱的丈夫，”乔决然说道。然后她用更柔和的声调补充道：“别害怕贫穷，我早就尝尽了贫穷的滋味，贫穷不再能使我恐惧。为我所爱的人们工作我感到幸福。别说你自己老了--四十正当年。即便你七十岁，我也不由地爱你！”教授被深深打动了，要是他能拿出他的手帕，他早就拿出来了。可是他双手抓着东西没法拿，于是乔为他擦去了眼泪。她接过去一两件东西，一边笑着说 “我也许是好胜，可是现在谁也不能说我越出本分了，因为女人的特殊使命便是为人擦眼泪，忍辱负重。我要承受我那一份，弗里德里克，我要帮着挣钱养家。这一点你得拿定主意，否则我决不去那儿，”她坚定地补充道。同时，他试图拿回物品。

“我们会看到我们的未来的。乔，耐心等待一段长时间，好吗？我得离开去独自工作。我必须先帮助我的孩子们，因为，即便是为了你，我也不能对明娜失信。你能原谅我吗？能幸福地希望、等待着吗？”“是的，我知道我能，因为我们相互爱着，那其他的一切便都无足轻重了。我也有我的责任和工作。即使是为了你而忽视了它们，我也不会快活。所以没必要慌忙或焦躁。你可以在西部尽你的责任，我在这里干我的。我们俩都幸福地做着最好的打算，把将来交由上帝安排。”“哦，卿予我这么大的希望与勇气。我除了一颗盛满爱的心和一双空手，没有别的可以给你了，”教授叫道，他完全不能自持了。

乔从来、从来就学不会规矩。他们站在台阶上，他说出那些话，乔只是将双手放进他的手里，温柔地低语道：“现在不空了。”然后，她俯身在雨伞下亲吻了她的弗里德里克。这真算是出格了。可是，即使那一群栖息在树篱上的拖尾巴麻雀是人类，她也会那样做，因为她真的忘乎所以了。除了她自己的幸福，她完全顾不了其他的事了。这是他们俩一生中最幸福的时刻，尽管这一刻是以非常简单的形式出现的。暗夜、风暴、孤独已经过去，迎候他们的是家庭的光明、温暖与宁静。乔高兴地说着"欢迎你回家！”将她的心上人领进屋，关上了门。