Mr Harris and the Night Train — Мистер Харис и ночной поезд
Mr Harris liked trains. He was afraid of aeroplanes, and didn’t like buses.
But trains — they were big and noisy and exciting. When he was a boy of ten, he liked trains. Now he was a man of fifty, and he still liked trains. So he was a happy man on the night of the 14th of September.
He was on the night train from Helsinki to Oulu in Finland, and he had ten hours in front of him. ‘I’ve got a book and my newspaper,’ he thought. ‘And there’s a good restaurant on the train. And then I’ve got two weeks’ holiday with my Finnish friends in Oulu.’
There weren’t many people on the train, and nobody came into Mr Harris’s carriage. He was happy about that. Most people on the train slept through the night, but Mr Harris liked to look out of the window, and to read and think. After dinner in the restaurant Mr Harris came back to his carriage, and sat in his seat next to the window.
For an hour or two he watched the trees and lakes of Finland out of the window.
Then it began to get dark, so he opened his book and began to read. At midnight the train stopped at the small station of Otava. Mr Harris looked out of the window, but he saw nobody. The train moved away from the station, into the black night again. Then the door of Mr Harris’s carriage opened, and two people came in. A young man and a young woman.
The young woman was angry. She closed the door and shouted at the man: ‘Carl! You can’t do this to me!’ The young man laughed loudly and sat down. Mr Harris was a small, quiet man. He wore quiet clothes, and he had a quiet voice. He did not like noisy people and loud voices. So he was not pleased. ‘Young people are always noisy,’ he thought. ‘Why can’t they talk quietly?’
He put his book down and closed his eyes. But he could not sleep because the two young people didn’t stop talking. The young woman sat down and said in a quieter voice: ‘Carl, you’re my brother and I love you, but please listen to me. You can’t take my diamond necklace. Give it back to me now. Please!’
Carl smiled. ‘No, Elena,’ he said. ‘I’m going back to Russia soon, and I’m taking your diamonds with me.’ He took off his hat and put it on the seat. ‘Elena, listen. You have a rich husband, but I , I have no money. I have nothing! How can I live without money? You can’t give me money, so I need your diamonds, little sister.’
Mr Harris looked at the young woman. She was small, with black hair and dark eyes. Her face was white and afraid. Mr Harris began to feel sorry for Elena. She and her brother didn’t look at him once. ‘Can’t they see me?’ he thought.
‘Carl,’ Elena said. Her voice was very quiet now, and Mr Harris listened carefully. ‘You came to dinner at our house tonight, and you went to my room and took my diamond necklace. How could you do that to me? My husband gave the diamonds to me. They were his mother’s diamonds before that. He’s going to be very, very angry , and I’m afraid of him.’
Her brother laughed. He put his hand in his pocket, then took it out again and opened it slowly. The diamond necklace in his hand was very beautiful. Mr Harris stared at it. For a minute or two nobody moved and it was quiet in the carriage. There was only the noise of the train, and it went quickly on through the dark cold night.
Mr Harris opened his book again, but he didn’t read it. He watched Carl’s face, with its hungry eyes and its cold smile.
‘What beautiful, beautiful diamonds!’ Carl said. ‘I can get a lot of money for these.’
‘Give them back to me, Carl,’ Elena whispered, ‘My husband’s going to kill me. You’re my brother… Please help me. Please!’
Carl laughed again, and Mr Harris wanted to hit him. ‘Go home, little sister,’ Carl said. ‘I’m not going to give the diamonds back to you. Go home to your angry husband.’
Suddenly there was a knife in the young woman’s hand. A long, bright knife. Mr Harris watched with his mouth open. He couldn’t speak or move.
‘Give the diamonds back to me!’ Elena cried. ‘Or I’m going to kill you!’ Her hand on the knife was white.
Carl laughed and laughed. ‘What a sister!’ he said. ‘What a kind, sweet sister! No, they’re my diamonds now. Put your knife away, little sister.’
But the knife in the white hand moved quickly: up, then down. There was a long, terrible cry, and Carl’s body fell slowly on to the seat. The colour of the seat began to change to red, and the diamond necklace fell from Carl’s hand on to the floor.
Elena’s face was white. ‘Oh no!’ she whispered. ‘Carl! Come back… come back! I didn’t want to kill you!’ But Carl didn’t answer, and the red blood ran slowly over the floor. Elena put her head in her hands, and again in the carriage there was a long, terrible cry.
Mr Harris’s face was white too. He opened his mouth, but he couldn’t speak. He stood up, and carefully moved to the door. The young woman was quiet now. She didn’t move or look up at Mr Harris.
In the corridor, Mr Harris ran. The guard was at the back of the train and Mr Harris got there in half a minute.
‘Quickly!’ Mr Harris said. ‘Come quickly! An accident… a young woman… oh dear! Her brother is… is dead!’
The guard ran with Mr Harris back to the carriage. Mr Harris opened the door and they went inside.
There was no dead body of a young man. There was no young woman… no blood, no knife, no diamond necklace. Only Mr Harris’s bags and his hat and coat.
The guard looked at Mr Harris, and Mr Harris looked at him.
‘But…’ Mr Harris began. ‘But they were here! I saw them! She… the young woman… She had a knife and she… she killed her brother.’
‘A knife, you say?’ the guard asked.
‘Yes,’ Mr Harris said quickly. ‘A long knife, and her brother took her diamonds, so she — ‘
‘Ah! Diamonds!’ the guard said. ‘Was the young woman’s name Elena?’ he asked.
‘Yes, it was!’ Mr Harris said. ‘How do you know that? Do you… Do you know her?’
‘Yes — and no,’ the guard said slowly. He thought for a minute, then looked at Mr Harris. ‘Elena di Saronelli,’ he said. ‘She had dark eyes and black hair. Very beautiful. She was half-Italian, half-Finnish. Her brother was a halfbrother. They had the same father, but his mother was Russian, I think.’
‘Was? Had?’ Mr Harris stared at the guard. ‘But she… Elena… she’s alive! And where is she?’
‘Oh no,’ said the guard. ‘Elena di Saronelli died about eighty years ago. After she killed her brother with a knife, she jumped off the train, and died at once. It was near here, I think.’ He looked out of the window, into the night.
Mr Harris’s face was very white again. ‘Eighty years ago!’ he whispered. ‘What are you saying? Were she and her brother… But I saw them!’
‘Yes, that’s right,’ the guard said. ‘You saw them, but they’re not alive. They’re ghosts. They often come on the night train at this time in September. I never see them, but somebody saw them last year. A man and his wife. They were very unhappy about it. But what can I do? I can’t stop Elena and Carl coming on the train.’
The guard looked at Mr Harris’s white face. ‘You need a drink,’ he said. ‘Come and have a vodka with me.’
Mr Harris didn’t usually drink vodka, but he felt afraid. When he closed his eyes, he could see again Elena’s long knife and could hear her terrible cry. So he went with the guard to the back of the train.
After the vodka, Mr Harris felt better. He didn’t want to sleep, and the guard was happy to talk. So Mr Harris stayed with the guard and didn’t go back to his carriage.
‘Yes,’ the guard said, ‘it’s a famous story. I don’t remember it all. It happened a long time ago, of course. Elena’s father was a famous man here in Finland. He was very rich once, but he had three or four wives and about eight children. And he liked the good things of life. So there wasn’t much money for the children. Carl, the oldest son, was a bad man, people say. He wanted an easy life, and money in his hand all the time.’
The train hurried on to Oulu through the black night, and the guard drank some more vodka. ‘Now, Elena,’ he said. ‘She didn’t have an easy life with those three difficult men — her father, her brother, her husband. One year she visited her mother’s family in Italy, and there she met her husband, di Saronelli. He was rich, but he wasn’t a kind man. They came back to Finland, and Carl often visited their house. He wanted money from his sister’s rich husband. Elena loved her brother, and gave him some money. But di Saronelli didn’t like Carl and was angry with Elena. He stopped giving her money, and after that… well, you know the story now.’
‘Yes,’ Mr Harris said. ‘Poor, unhappy Elena.’
Mr Harris stayed with his friends in Oulu for two weeks. They were quiet weeks, and Mr Harris had a good holiday. But he took the bus back to Helsinki. The bus was slow, and there were a lot of people on it, but Mr Harris was very happy. He didn’t want to take the night train across Finland again.
The Errors of Santa Claus — Ошибки Санта Клауса
It was Christmas Eve.
The Browns, who lived in the adjoining house, had been dining with the Joneses.
Brown and Jones were sitting over wine and walnuts at the table. The others had gone upstairs.
«What are you giving to your boy for Christmas?» asked Brown.
«A train,» said Jones, «new kind of thing — automatic.»
«Let’s have a look at it,» said Brown.
Jones fetched a parcel from the sideboard and began unwrapping it.
«Ingenious thing, isn’t it?» he said. «Goes on its own rails. Queer how kids love to play with trains, isn’t it?»
«Yes,» assented Brown. «How are the rails fixed?»
«Wait, I’ll show you,» said Jones. «Just help me to shove these dinner things aside and roll back the cloth. There! See! You lay the rails like that and fasten them at the ends, so —»
«Oh, yes, I catch on, makes a grade, doesn’t it? just the thing to amuse a child, isn’t it? I got Willy a toy aeroplane.»
«I know, they’re great. I got Edwin one on his birthday. But I thought I’d get him a train this time. I told him Santa Claus was going to bring him something altogether new this time. Edwin, of course, believes in Santa Claus absolutely. Say, look at this locomotive, would you? It has a spring coiled up inside the fire box.»
«Wind her up,» said Brown with great interest. «Let her go.»
«All right,» said Jones. «Just pile up two or three plates something to lean the end of the rails on. There, notice way it buzzes before it starts. Isn’t that a great thing for kid, eh?»
«Yes,» said Brown. «And say, see this little string to pull the whistle! By Gad, it toots, eh? just like real?»
«Now then, Brown,» Jones went on, «you hitch on those cars and I’ll start her. I’ll be engineer, eh!»
Half an hour later Brown and Jones were still playing trains on the dining-room table.
But their wives upstairs in the drawing-room hardly noticed their absence. They were too much interested.
«Oh, I think it’s perfectly sweet,» said Mrs. Brown. «Just the loveliest doll I’ve seen in years. I must get one like it for Ulvina. Won’t Clarisse be perfectly enchanted?»
«Yes,» answered Mrs. Jones, «and then she’ll have all the fun of arranging the dresses. Children love that so much. Look, there are three little dresses with the doll, aren’t they cute? All cut out and ready to stitch together.»
«Oh, how perfectly lovely!» exclaimed Mrs. Brown. «I think the mauve one would suit the doll best, don’t you, with such golden hair? Only don’t you think it would make it much nicer to turn back the collar, so, and to put a little band — so?»
«What a good idea!» said Mrs. Jones. «Do let’s try it. Just wait, I’ll get a needle in a minute. I’ll tell Clarisse that Santa Claus sewed it himself. The child believes in Santa Claus absolutely.»
And half an hour later Mrs. Jones and Mrs. Brown were so busy stitching dolls’ clothes that they could not hear the roaring of the little train up and down the dining table, and had no idea what the four children were doing.
Nor did the children miss their mothers.
«Dandy, aren’t they?» Edwin Jones was saying to little Willie Brown, as they sat in Edwin’s bedroom. «A hundred in a box, with cork tips, and see, an amber mouthpiece that fits into a little case at the side. Good present for Dad, eh?
«Fine!» said Willie appreciatively. «I’m giving Father cigars.»
«I know, I thought of cigars too. Men always like cigars and cigarettes. You can’t go wrong on them. Say, would you like to try one or two of these cigarettes? We can take them from the bottom. You’ll like them, they’re Russian — away ahead of Egyptian.»
«Thanks,» answered Willie. «I’d like one immensely. I only started smoking last spring — on my twelfth birthday. I think a feller’s a fool to begin smoking cigarettes too soon, don’t you? It stunts him. I waited till I was twelve.»
«Me too,» said Edwin, as they lighted their cigarettes. «In fact, I wouldn’t buy them now if it weren’t for Dad. I simply had to give him something from Santa Claus. He believes in Santa Claus absolutely, you know.»
And, while this was going on, Clarisse was showing little Ulvina the absolutely lovely little bridge set that she got for her mother.
«Aren’t these markers perfectly charming?» said Ulvina. «And don’t you love this little Dutch design — or is it Flemish, darling?»
«Dutch,» said Clarisse. «Isn’t it quaint? And aren’t these the dearest little things, for putting the money in when you play. I needn’t have got them with it — they’d have sold the rest separately — but I think it’s too utterly slow playing without money, don’t you?»
«Oh, abominable,» shuddered Ulvina. «But your mamma never plays for money, does she?»
«Mamma! Oh, gracious, no. Mamma’s far too slow for that. But I shall tell her that Santa Claus insisted on putting in the little money boxes.»
«I suppose she believes in Santa Claus, just as my mamma does.»
«Oh, absolutely,» said Clarisse, and added, «What if we play a little game! With a double dummy, the French way, or Norwegian Skat, if you like. That only needs two.»
«All right,» agreed Ulvina, and in a few minutes they were deep in a game of cards with a little pile of pocket money beside them.
About half an hour later, all the members of the two families were again in the drawing-room. But of course nobody said anything about the presents. In any case they were all too busy looking at the beautiful big Bible, with maps in it, that the Joneses had brought to give to Grandfather. They all agreed that, with the help of it, Grandfather could hunt up any place in Palestine in a moment, day or night.
But upstairs, away upstairs in a sitting-room of his own Grandfather Jones was looking with an affectionate eye at the presents that stood beside him. There was a beautiful whisky decanter, with silver filigree outside (and whiskey inside) for Jones, and for the little boy a big nickel-plated Jew’s harp.
Later on, far in the night, the person, or the influence, or whatever it is called Santa Claus, took all the presents and placed them in the people’s stockings.
And, being blind as he always has been, he gave the wrong things to the wrong people — in fact, he gave them just as indicated above.
But the next day, in the course of Christmas morning, the situation straightened itself out, just as it always does.
Indeed, by ten o’clock, Brown and Jones were playing the with train, and Mrs. Brown and Mrs. Jones were making dolls’ clothes, and the boys were smoking cigarettes, and Clarisse and Ulvina were playing cards for their pocket-money.
And upstairs — away up — Grandfather was drinking whisky and playing the Jew’s harp.
And so Christmas, just as it always does, turned out right after all.
The Selfish Giant — Эгоистичный гигант
Every afternoon, as they were coming from school, the children used to go and play in the Giant’s garden.
It was a large lovely garden, with soft green grass. Here and there over the grass stood beautiful flowers like stars, and there were twelve peach-trees that in the spring-time broke out into delicate blossoms of pink and pearl, and in the autumn bore rich fruit. The birds sat on the trees and sang so sweetly that the children used to stop their games in order to listen to them. ‘How happy we are here!’ they cried to each other.
One day the Giant came back. He had been to visit his friend the Cornish ogre, and had stayed with him for seven years. After the seven years were over he had said all that he had to say, for his conversation was limited, and he determined to return to his own castle. When he arrived he saw the children playing in the garden.
‘What are you doing here?’ he cried in a very gruff voice, and the children ran away.
‘My own garden is my own garden,’ said the Giant; ‘any one can understand that, and I will allow nobody to play in it but myself.’ So he built a high wall all round it, and put up a notice-board.
TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED
He was a very selfish Giant.
The poor children had now nowhere to play. They tried to play on the road, but the road was very dusty and full of hard stones, and they did not like it. They used to wander round the high wall when their lessons were over, and talk about the beautiful garden inside.
‘How happy we were there,’ they said to each other.
Then the Spring came, and all over the country there were little blossoms and little birds. Only in the garden of the Selfish Giant it was still Winter. The birds did not care to sing in it as there were no children, and the trees forgot to blossom. Once a beautiful flower put its head out from the grass, but when it saw the notice-board it was so sorry for the children that it slipped back into the ground again, and went off to sleep. The only people who were pleased were the Snow and the Frost. ‘Spring has forgotten this garden,’ they cried, ‘so we will live here all the year round.’ The Snow covered up the grass with her great white cloak, and the Frost painted all the trees silver. Then they invited the North Wind to stay with them, and he came. He was wrapped in furs, and he roared all day about the garden, and blew the chimney-pots down. ‘This is a delightful spot,’ he said, ‘we must ask the Hail on a visit.’ So the Hail came. Every day for three hours he rattled on the roof of the castle till he broke most of the slates, and then he ran round and round the garden as fast as he could go. He was dressed in grey, and his breath was like ice.
‘I cannot understand why the Spring is so late in coming,’ said the Selfish Giant, as he sat at the window and looked out at his cold white garden; ‘I hope there will be a change in the weather.’
But the Spring never came, nor the Summer. The Autumn gave golden fruit to every garden, but to the Giant’s garden she gave none. ‘He is too selfish,’ she said. So it was always Winter there, and the North Wind, and the Hail, and the Frost, and the Snow danced about through the trees.
One morning the Giant was lying awake in bed when he heard some lovely music. It sounded so sweet to his ears that he thought it must be the King’s musicians passing by. It was really only a little linnet singing outside his window, but it was so long since he had heard a bird sing in his garden that it seemed to him to be the most beautiful music in the world. Then the Hail stopped dancing over his head, and the North Wind ceased roaring, and a delicious perfume came to him through the open casement. ‘I believe the Spring has come at last,’ said the Giant; and he jumped out of bed and looked out.
What did he see?
He saw a most wonderful sight. Through a little hole in the wall the children had crept in, and they were sitting in the branches of the trees. In every tree that he could see there was a little child. And the trees were so glad to have the children back again that they had covered themselves with blossoms, and were waving their arms gently above the children’s heads. The birds were flying about and twittering with delight, and the flowers were looking up through the green grass and laughing. It was a lovely scene, only in one corner it was still Winter. It was the farthest corner of the garden, and in it was standing a little boy. He was so small that he could not reach up to the branches of the tree, and he was wandering all round it, crying bitterly. The poor tree was still quite covered with frost and snow, and the North Wind was blowing and roaring above it. ‘Climb up! little boy,’ said the Tree, and it bent its branches down as low as it could; but the little boy was too tiny.
And the Giant’s heart melted as he looked out. ‘How selfish I have been!’ he said; ‘now I know why the Spring would not come here. I will put that poor little boy on the top of the tree, and then I will knock down the wall, and my garden shall be the children’s playground for ever and ever.’ He was really very sorry for what he had done.
So he crept downstairs and opened the front door quite softly, and went out into the garden. But when the children saw him they were so frightened that they all ran away, and the garden became Winter again. Only the little boy did not run, for his eyes were so full of tears that he did not see the Giant coming. And the Giant stole up behind him and took him gently in his hand, and put him up into the tree. And the tree broke at once into blossom, and the birds came and sang on it, and the little boy stretched out his two arms and flung them round the Giant’s neck, and kissed him. And the other children, when they saw that the Giant was not wicked any longer, came running back, and with them came the Spring. ‘It is your garden now, little children,’ said the Giant, and he took a great axe and knocked down the wall. And when the people were gong to market at twelve o’clock they found the Giant playing with the children in the most beautiful garden they had ever seen.
All day long they played, and in the evening they came to the Giant to bid him good-bye.
‘But where is your little companion?’ he said: ‘the boy I put into the tree.’ The Giant loved him the best because he had kissed him.
‘We don’t know,’ answered the children; ‘he has gone away.’
‘You must tell him to be sure and come here tomorrow,’ said the Giant. But the children said that they did not know where he lived, and had never seen him before; and the Giant felt very sad.
Every afternoon, when school was over, the children came and played with the Giant. But the little boy whom the Giant loved was never seen again. The Giant was very kind to all the children, yet he longed for his first little friend, and often spoke of him. ‘How I would like to see him!’ he used to say.
Years went over, and the Giant grew very old and feeble. He could not play about any more, so he sat in a huge armchair, and watched the children at their games, and admired his garden. ‘I have many beautiful flowers,’ he said; ‘but the children are the most beautiful flowers of all.’
One winter morning he looked out of his window as he was dressing. He did not hate the Winter now, for he knew that it was merely the Spring asleep, and that the flowers were resting.
Suddenly he rubbed his eyes in wonder, and looked and looked. It certainly was a marvellous sight. In the farthest corner of the garden was a tree quite covered with lovely white blossoms. Its branches were all golden, and silver fruit hung down from them, and underneath it stood the little boy he had loved.
Downstairs ran the Giant in great joy, and out into the garden. He hastened across the grass, and came near to the child. And when he came quite close his face grew red with anger, and he said, ‘Who hath dared to wound thee?’ For on the palms of the child’s hands were the prints of two nails, and the prints of two nails were on the little feet.
‘Who hath dared to wound thee?’ cried the Giant; ‘tell me, that I may take my big sword and slay him.’
‘Nay!’ answered the child; ‘but these are the wounds of Love.’
‘Who art thou?’ said the Giant, and a strange awe fell on him, and he knelt before the little child.
And the child smiled on the Giant, and said to him, ‘You let me play once in your garden, to-day you shall come with me to my garden, which is Paradise.’
And when the children ran in that afternoon, they found the Giant lying dead under the tree, all covered with white blossoms.
Источники: http://ouenglish.ru/english-story-audio/20, http://ouenglish.ru/english-story-audio/28, http://ouenglish.ru/english-story-audio/21
