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Secret Garden, The Secret Garden (14)

The Secret Garden (14)

And on the trunk of the tree he leaned against, a brown squirrel was clinging and watching him, and from behind a bush nearby a cock pheasant was delicately stretching his neck to peep out, and quite near him were two rabbits sitting up and sniffing with tremulous noses—and actually it appeared as if they were all drawing near to watch him and listen to the strange low little call his pipe seemed to make.

When he saw Mary he held up his hand and spoke to her in a voice almost as low as and rather like his piping.

“Don't tha' move,” he said. “It'd flight 'em.”

Mary remained motionless. He stopped playing his pipe and began to rise from the ground. He moved so slowly that it scarcely seemed as though he were moving at all, but at last he stood on his feet and then the squirrel scampered back up into the branches of his tree, the pheasant withdrew his head and the rabbits dropped on all fours and began to hop away, though not at all as if they were frightened.

“I'm Dickon,” the boy said. “I know tha'rt Miss Mary.”

Then Mary realized that somehow she had known at first that he was Dickon. Who else could have been charming rabbits and pheasants as the natives charm snakes in India? He had a wide, red, curving mouth and his smile spread all over his face.

“I got up slow,” he explained, “because if tha' makes a quick move it startles 'em. A body 'as to move gentle an' speak low when wild things is about.”

He did not speak to her as if they had never seen each other before but as if he knew her quite well. Mary knew nothing about boys and she spoke to him a little stiffly because she felt rather shy.

“Did you get Martha's letter?” she asked.

He nodded his curly, rust-colored head.

“That's why I come.”

He stooped to pick up something which had been lying on the ground beside him when he piped.

“I've got th' garden tools. There's a little spade an' rake an' a fork an' hoe. Eh! they are good 'uns. There's a trowel, too. An' th' woman in th' shop threw in a packet o' white poppy an' one o' blue larkspur when I bought th' other seeds.”

“Will you show the seeds to me?” Mary said.

She wished she could talk as he did. His speech was so quick and easy. It sounded as if he liked her and was not the least afraid she would not like him, though he was only a common moor boy, in patched clothes and with a funny face and a rough, rusty-red head. As she came closer to him she noticed that there was a clean fresh scent of heather and grass and leaves about him, almost as if he were made of them. She liked it very much and when she looked into his funny face with the red cheeks and round blue eyes she forgot that she had felt shy.

“Let us sit down on this log and look at them,” she said.

They sat down and he took a clumsy little brown paper package out of his coat pocket. He untied the string and inside there were ever so many neater and smaller packages with a picture of a flower on each one.

“There's a lot o' mignonette an' poppies,” he said. “Mignonette's th' sweetest smellin' thing as grows, an' it'll grow wherever you cast it, same as poppies will. Them as'll come up an' bloom if you just whistle to 'em, them's th' nicest of all.”

He stopped and turned his head quickly, his poppy-cheeked face lighting up.

“Where's that robin as is callin' us?” he said.

The chirp came from a thick holly bush, bright with scarlet berries, and Mary thought she knew whose it was.

“Is it really calling us?” she asked.

“Aye,” said Dickon, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, “he's callin' someone he's friends with. That's same as sayin' ‘Here I am. Look at me. I wants a bit of a chat.' There he is in the bush. Whose is he?”

“He's Ben Weatherstaff's, but I think he knows me a little,” answered Mary.

“Aye, he knows thee,” said Dickon in his low voice again. “An' he likes thee. He's took thee on. He'll tell me all about thee in a minute.”

He moved quite close to the bush with the slow movement Mary had noticed before, and then he made a sound almost like the robin's own twitter. The robin listened a few seconds, intently, and then answered quite as if he were replying to a question.

“Aye, he's a friend o' yours,” chuckled Dickon.

“Do you think he is?” cried Mary eagerly. She did so want to know. “Do you think he really likes me?”

“He wouldn't come near thee if he didn't,” answered Dickon. “Birds is rare choosers an' a robin can flout a body worse than a man. See, he's making up to thee now. ‘Cannot tha' see a chap?' he's sayin'.”

And it really seemed as if it must be true. He so sidled and twittered and tilted as he hopped on his bush.

“Do you understand everything birds say?” said Mary.

Dickon's grin spread until he seemed all wide, red, curving mouth, and he rubbed his rough head.

“I think I do, and they think I do,” he said. “I've lived on th' moor with 'em so long. I've watched 'em break shell an' come out an' fledge an' learn to fly an' begin to sing, till I think I'm one of 'em. Sometimes I think p'raps I'm a bird, or a fox, or a rabbit, or a squirrel, or even a beetle, an' I don't know it.”

He laughed and came back to the log and began to talk about the flower seeds again. He told her what they looked like when they were flowers; he told her how to plant them, and watch them, and feed and water them.

“See here,” he said suddenly, turning round to look at her. “I'll plant them for thee myself. Where is tha' garden?”

Mary's thin hands clutched each other as they lay on her lap. She did not know what to say, so for a whole minute she said nothing. She had never thought of this. She felt miserable. And she felt as if she went red and then pale.

“Tha's got a bit o' garden, hasn't tha'?” Dickon said.

It was true that she had turned red and then pale. Dickon saw her do it, and as she still said nothing, he began to be puzzled.

“Wouldn't they give thee a bit?” he asked. “Hasn't tha' got any yet?”

She held her hands tighter and turned her eyes toward him.

“I don't know anything about boys,” she said slowly. “Could you keep a secret, if I told you one? It's a great secret. I don't know what I should do if anyone found it out. I believe I should die!” She said the last sentence quite fiercely.

Dickon looked more puzzled than ever and even rubbed his hand over his rough head again, but he answered quite good-humoredly.

“I'm keepin' secrets all th' time,” he said. “If I couldn't keep secrets from th' other lads, secrets about foxes' cubs, an' birds' nests, an' wild things' holes, there'd be naught safe on th' moor. Aye, I can keep secrets.”

Mistress Mary did not mean to put out her hand and clutch his sleeve but she did it.

“I've stolen a garden,” she said very fast. “It isn't mine. It isn't anybody's. Nobody wants it, nobody cares for it, nobody ever goes into it. Perhaps everything is dead in it already. I don't know.”

She began to feel hot and as contrary as she had ever felt in her life.

“I don't care, I don't care! Nobody has any right to take it from me when I care about it and they don't. They're letting it die, all shut in by itself,” she ended passionately, and she threw her arms over her face and burst out crying—poor little Mistress Mary.

Dickon's curious blue eyes grew rounder and rounder.

“Eh-h-h!” he said, drawing his exclamation out slowly, and the way he did it meant both wonder and sympathy.

“I've nothing to do,” said Mary. “Nothing belongs to me. I found it myself and I got into it myself. I was only just like the robin, and they wouldn't take it from the robin.”

“Where is it?” asked Dickon in a dropped voice.

Mistress Mary got up from the log at once. She knew she felt contrary again, and obstinate, and she did not care at all. She was imperious and Indian, and at the same time hot and sorrowful.

“Come with me and I'll show you,” she said.

She led him round the laurel path and to the walk where the ivy grew so thickly. Dickon followed her with a queer, almost pitying, look on his face. He felt as if he were being led to look at some strange bird's nest and must move softly. When she stepped to the wall and lifted the hanging ivy he started. There was a door and Mary pushed it slowly open and they passed in together, and then Mary stood and waved her hand round defiantly.

“It's this,” she said. “It's a secret garden, and I'm the only one in the world who wants it to be alive.”

Dickon looked round and round about it, and round and round again.

“Eh!” he almost whispered, “it is a queer, pretty place! It's like as if a body was in a dream.”

CHAPTER XI

THE NEST OF THE MISSEL THRUSH

For two or three minutes he stood looking round him, while Mary watched him, and then he began to walk about softly, even more lightly than Mary had walked the first time she had found herself inside the four walls. His eyes seemed to be taking in everything—the gray trees with the gray creepers climbing over them and hanging from their branches, the tangle on the walls and among the grass, the evergreen alcoves with the stone seats and tall flower urns standing in them.

“I never thought I'd see this place,” he said at last, in a whisper.

“Did you know about it?” asked Mary.

She had spoken aloud and he made a sign to her.

“We must talk low,” he said, “or someone'll hear us an' wonder what's to do in here.”

“Oh! I forgot!” said Mary, feeling frightened and putting her hand quickly against her mouth. “Did you know about the garden?” she asked again when she had recovered herself.

Dickon nodded.

“Martha told me there was one as no one ever went inside,” he answered. “Us used to wonder what it was like.”

He stopped and looked round at the lovely gray tangle about him, and his round eyes looked queerly happy.

“Eh! the nests as'll be here come springtime,” he said. “It'd be th' safest nestin' place in England. No one never comin' near an' tangles o' trees an' roses to build in. I wonder all th' birds on th' moor don't build here.”

Mistress Mary put her hand on his arm again without knowing it.

“Will there be roses?” she whispered. “Can you tell? I thought perhaps they were all dead.”

“Eh! No! Not them—not all of 'em!” he answered. “Look here!”

He stepped over to the nearest tree—an old, old one with gray lichen all over its bark, but upholding a curtain of tangled sprays and branches. He took a thick knife out of his pocket and opened one of its blades.

“There's lots o' dead wood as ought to be cut out,” he said. “An' there's a lot o' old wood, but it made some new last year. This here's a new bit,” and he touched a shoot which looked brownish green instead of hard, dry gray.

Mary touched it herself in an eager, reverent way.

“That one?” she said. “Is that one quite alive quite?”

Dickon curved his wide smiling mouth.


The Secret Garden (14) The Secret Garden (14) El jardín secreto (14) 秘密の花園 (14) Tajemniczy ogród (14) O Jardim Secreto (14) Тайный сад (14) Таємний сад (14) 秘密花园 (14) 秘密花園 (14)

And on the trunk of the tree he leaned against, a brown squirrel was clinging and watching him, and from behind a bush nearby a cock pheasant was delicately stretching his neck to peep out, and quite near him were two rabbits sitting up and sniffing with tremulous noses—and actually it appeared as if they were all drawing near to watch him and listen to the strange low little call his pipe seemed to make. A na kmeni stromu, o který se opíral, se držela hnědá veverka a pozorovala ho, a zpoza keře poblíž kohoutí bažant jemně natahoval krk, aby vykoukl, a docela blízko něj seděli dva králíci a očichávali třesoucí se nosy – a ve skutečnosti to vypadalo, jako by se všichni přibližovali, aby ho sledovali a poslouchali podivné tiché volání, které jeho dýmka zřejmě vydávala. А на стволе дерева, к которому он прислонился, примостилась коричневая белка и наблюдала за ним, а из-за куста неподалеку петушиный фазан деликатно вытягивал шею, чтобы выглянуть, а совсем рядом сидели два кролика и трепетно принюхивались - казалось, все они приблизились, чтобы посмотреть на него и послушать странный негромкий зов, который издавала его трубка.

When he saw Mary he held up his hand and spoke to her in a voice almost as low as and rather like his piping. Když uviděl Mary, zvedl ruku a promluvil k ní hlasem téměř stejně tichým jako jeho dudlík. Увидев Мэри, он поднял руку и заговорил с ней голосом, почти таким же низким, как у него самого.

“Don't tha' move,” he said. "Nehýbej se," řekl. "Не двигайся", - сказал он. “It'd flight 'em.” "Uletělo by je to." "Это заставит их летать".

Mary remained motionless. Mary zůstala nehybná. Мэри оставалась неподвижной. He stopped playing his pipe and began to rise from the ground. Přestal hrát na dýmku a začal se zvedat ze země. Он перестал играть на своей трубе и начал подниматься с земли. He moved so slowly that it scarcely seemed as though he were moving at all, but at last he stood on his feet and then the squirrel scampered back up into the branches of his tree, the pheasant withdrew his head and the rabbits dropped on all fours and began to hop away, though not at all as if they were frightened. Pohyboval se tak pomalu, že se zdálo, že se vůbec nehýbe, ale nakonec se postavil na nohy a pak veverka vyběhla zpět do větví svého stromu, bažant stáhl hlavu a králíci klesli na všechny čtyři. a začali odskakovat, i když vůbec ne, jako by byli vyděšení. Он двигался так медленно, что казалось, будто он вообще не двигается, но наконец он встал на ноги, и тогда белка снова забралась на ветви своего дерева, фазан задрал голову, а кролики опустились на четвереньки и стали прыгать, хотя совсем не похоже, что они были напуганы.

“I'm Dickon,” the boy said. "Я Дикон", - сказал мальчик. “I know tha'rt Miss Mary.” "Vím, že je to slečna Mary." "Я знаю это, мисс Мэри".

Then Mary realized that somehow she had known at first that he was Dickon. Pak si Mary uvědomila, že zprvu nějak věděla, že je Dickon. И тут Мэри поняла, что каким-то образом сразу догадалась, что он - Дикон. Who else could have been charming rabbits and pheasants as the natives charm snakes in India? Kdo jiný mohl být okouzlujícími králíky a bažanty, jako domorodci v Indii okouzlují hady? Кто еще мог очаровывать кроликов и фазанов, как туземцы очаровывают змей в Индии? He had a wide, red, curving mouth and his smile spread all over his face. Měl široká, červená, zakřivená ústa a úsměv se mu rozlil po celé tváři. У него был широкий, красный, изогнутый рот, а улыбка расплывалась по всему лицу.

“I got up slow,” he explained, “because if tha' makes a quick move it startles 'em. "Vstal jsem pomalu," vysvětlil, "protože když uděláte rychlý pohyb, poleká je to." "Я встал медленно, - объяснил он, - потому что если ты сделаешь быстрое движение, это их испугает. A body 'as to move gentle an' speak low when wild things is about.” Tělo, které se „jemně pohybuje a mluví tiše, když se dějí divoké věci.“ Тело должно двигаться мягко и говорить тихо, когда вокруг дикие твари".

He did not speak to her as if they had never seen each other before but as if he knew her quite well. Nemluvil s ní, jako by se nikdy předtím neviděli, ale jako by ji znal docela dobře. Mary knew nothing about boys and she spoke to him a little stiffly because she felt rather shy. Mary nevěděla nic o chlapcích a mluvila s ním trochu strnule, protože se cítila dost plachá.

“Did you get Martha's letter?” she asked. "Dostal jsi Marthin dopis?" zeptala se.

He nodded his curly, rust-colored head. Přikývl svou kudrnatou, rezavě zbarvenou hlavou.

“That's why I come.” "Proto přicházím."

He stooped to pick up something which had been lying on the ground beside him when he piped. Sklonil se, aby sebral něco, co leželo na zemi vedle něj, když zapípal.

“I've got th' garden tools. "Mám zahradní nářadí." There's a little spade an' rake an' a fork an' hoe. Je tam malý rýč a hrábě a vidle a motyka. Eh! Eh! they are good 'uns. jsou dobré 'uns. There's a trowel, too. Je tam i hladítko. An' th' woman in th' shop threw in a packet o' white poppy an' one o' blue larkspur when I bought th' other seeds.” Když jsem si koupil další semena, jedna žena v tom obchodě mi přihodila balíček bílého máku a jeden modrý skřivánek."

“Will you show the seeds to me?” Mary said. "Ukážeš mi semena?" řekla Mary.

She wished she could talk as he did. Přála si, aby mohla mluvit jako on. His speech was so quick and easy. Jeho řeč byla tak rychlá a snadná. It sounded as if he liked her and was not the least afraid she would not like him, though he was only a common moor boy, in patched clothes and with a funny face and a rough, rusty-red head. Znělo to, jako by ji měl rád a ani se nebál, že ho nebude mít ráda, ačkoli to byl jen obyčejný vřesový chlapec, v záplatovaných šatech, s legračním obličejem a hrubou, rezavě rudou hlavou. As she came closer to him she noticed that there was a clean fresh scent of heather and grass and leaves about him, almost as if he were made of them. Když se k němu přiblížila, všimla si, že kolem něj je čistá svěží vůně vřesu, trávy a listí, skoro jako by z nich byl vyroben. Подойдя к нему ближе, она заметила, что от него исходит чистый свежий аромат вереска, травы и листьев, как будто он был сделан из них. She liked it very much and when she looked into his funny face with the red cheeks and round blue eyes she forgot that she had felt shy. Moc se jí to líbilo a když se podívala do jeho legračního obličeje s červenými tvářemi a kulatýma modrýma očima, zapomněla, že se styděla.

“Let us sit down on this log and look at them,” she said. "Posaďme se na tento protokol a podívejme se na ně," řekla.

They sat down and he took a clumsy little brown paper package out of his coat pocket. Posadili se a on vytáhl z kapsy kabátu nemotorný malý hnědý papírový balíček. He untied the string and inside there were ever so many neater and smaller packages with a picture of a flower on each one. Rozvázal provázek a uvnitř bylo stále tolik úhlednějších a menších balíčků s obrázkem květiny na každém.

“There's a lot o' mignonette an' poppies,” he said. "Je tu spousta mignonet a máku," řekl. “Mignonette's th' sweetest smellin' thing as grows, an' it'll grow wherever you cast it, same as poppies will. „Mignonette je nejsladší vonící věc, jak roste, a poroste, kamkoli ji hodíte, stejně jako mák. Them as'll come up an' bloom if you just whistle to 'em, them's th' nicest of all.” Když na ně jen zahvízdáte, vyrostou a rozkvetou, jsou ze všech nejhezčí.“

He stopped and turned his head quickly, his poppy-cheeked face lighting up. Zastavil se a rychle otočil hlavu, jeho tvář s makovými tvářemi se rozzářila.

“Where's that robin as is callin' us?” he said. "Kde je ten Robin, jak nás volá?" řekl.

The chirp came from a thick holly bush, bright with scarlet berries, and Mary thought she knew whose it was. Cvrlikání vycházelo z hustého keře cesmíny, plného šarlatových bobulí, a Mary si myslela, že ví, kdo to byl.

“Is it really calling us?” she asked. "Vážně nás to volá?" zeptala se.

“Aye,” said Dickon, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, “he's callin' someone he's friends with. "Ano," řekl Dickon, jako by to byla ta nejpřirozenější věc na světě, "volá někoho, s kým se přátelí." That's same as sayin' ‘Here I am. To je stejné, jako když říkáte: "Tady jsem." Look at me. Podívej se na mě. I wants a bit of a chat.' Chci si trochu popovídat.“ There he is in the bush. Tady je v buši. Whose is he?” Čí je?"

“He's Ben Weatherstaff's, but I think he knows me a little,” answered Mary. "Je Ben Weatherstaff, ale myslím, že mě trochu zná," odpověděla Mary.

“Aye, he knows thee,” said Dickon in his low voice again. "Ano, zná tě," řekl Dickon znovu tichým hlasem. “An' he likes thee. "A on tě má rád." He's took thee on. Vzal tě na sebe. He'll tell me all about thee in a minute.” Za chvíli mi o tobě řekne všechno."

He moved quite close to the bush with the slow movement Mary had noticed before, and then he made a sound almost like the robin's own twitter. Pomalým pohybem, kterého si Mary předtím všimla, se posunul docela blízko ke křoví, a pak vydal zvuk téměř jako vlastní twitter červenky. The robin listened a few seconds, intently, and then answered quite as if he were replying to a question. Červenka několik sekund napjatě poslouchala a pak odpověděla, jako by odpovídala na otázku.

“Aye, he's a friend o' yours,” chuckled Dickon. "Ano, je to tvůj přítel," zasmál se Dickon.

“Do you think he is?” cried Mary eagerly. "Myslíš, že je?" vykřikla Mary dychtivě. She did so want to know. Tak moc to chtěla vědět. “Do you think he really likes me?” "Myslíš, že mě má opravdu rád?"

“He wouldn't come near thee if he didn't,” answered Dickon. "Nepřiblížil by se k tobě, kdyby ne," odpověděl Dickon. “Birds is rare choosers an' a robin can flout a body worse than a man. "Ptáci si vybírají jen zřídka a červenka umí ohánět tělem hůř než člověk." See, he's making up to thee now. Vidíš, teď se s tebou vyrovnává. ‘Cannot tha' see a chap?' "Nevidíš chlapa?" he's sayin'.” říká."

And it really seemed as if it must be true. A opravdu se zdálo, že to musí být pravda. He so sidled and twittered and tilted as he hopped on his bush. Když poskakoval na křoví, tak se klouzal, cvrlikal a nakláněl.

“Do you understand everything birds say?” said Mary. "Rozumíš všemu, co ptáci říkají?" řekla Mary.

Dickon's grin spread until he seemed all wide, red, curving mouth, and he rubbed his rough head. Dickonův úsměv se rozšířil, až vypadala celá široká, rudá, zakřivená ústa, a promnul si hrubou hlavu.

“I think I do, and they think I do,” he said. "Myslím, že ano, a oni si myslí, že ano," řekl. “I've lived on th' moor with 'em so long. "Žil jsem s nimi na vřesovišti tak dlouho." I've watched 'em break shell an' come out an' fledge an' learn to fly an' begin to sing, till I think I'm one of 'em. Viděl jsem, jak se 'rozbíjejí a' vylézají a' učí se létat a' začínají zpívat, až si myslím, že jsem jedním z nich. Sometimes I think p'raps I'm a bird, or a fox, or a rabbit, or a squirrel, or even a beetle, an' I don't know it.” Někdy si myslím, že jsem pták, liška, králík, veverka nebo dokonce brouk, a já to nevím.“

He laughed and came back to the log and began to talk about the flower seeds again. Zasmál se, vrátil se k kládě a začal znovu mluvit o semenech květin. He told her what they looked like when they were flowers; he told her how to plant them, and watch them, and feed and water them. Řekl jí, jak vypadaly, když byly květiny; řekl jí, jak je zasadit, jak je hlídat, jak je krmit a zalévat.

“See here,” he said suddenly, turning round to look at her. "Podívejte se sem," řekl náhle a otočil se, aby se na ni podíval. “I'll plant them for thee myself. "Sám ti je zasadím." Where is tha' garden?” Kde je ta zahrada?"

Mary's thin hands clutched each other as they lay on her lap. Maryiny tenké ruce se tiskly k sobě, když jí ležely na klíně. She did not know what to say, so for a whole minute she said nothing. Nevěděla, co říct, a tak celou minutu nic neříkala. She had never thought of this. Tohle ji nikdy nenapadlo. She felt miserable. Cítila se mizerně. And she felt as if she went red and then pale. A měla pocit, jako by zčervenala a pak zbledla.

“Tha's got a bit o' garden, hasn't tha'?” Dickon said. "To má trochu zahrady, ne?" řekl Dickon.

It was true that she had turned red and then pale. Je pravda, že zčervenala a pak zbledla. Dickon saw her do it, and as she still said nothing, he began to be puzzled. Dickon viděl, jak to udělala, a protože stále nic neřekla, začal být zmatený.

“Wouldn't they give thee a bit?” he asked. "Nedali by ti trochu?" zeptal se. “Hasn't tha' got any yet?” "To ještě žádné nemá?"

She held her hands tighter and turned her eyes toward him. Sevřela ruce pevněji a otočila k němu oči.

“I don't know anything about boys,” she said slowly. "O chlapcích nic nevím," řekla pomalu. “Could you keep a secret, if I told you one? „Dokázal bys udržet tajemství, kdybych ti ho řekl? It's a great secret. Je to velké tajemství. I don't know what I should do if anyone found it out. Nevím, co bych měl dělat, kdyby to někdo zjistil. I believe I should die!” She said the last sentence quite fiercely. Věřím, že bych měl zemřít!" Poslední větu řekla dost zuřivě.

Dickon looked more puzzled than ever and even rubbed his hand over his rough head again, but he answered quite good-humoredly. Dickon vypadal zmateněji než kdy jindy, a dokonce si znovu promnul rukou svou hrubou hlavu, ale odpověděl docela s dobrou náladou.

“I'm keepin' secrets all th' time,” he said. "Celou dobu držím tajemství," řekl. “If I couldn't keep secrets from th' other lads, secrets about foxes' cubs, an' birds' nests, an' wild things' holes, there'd be naught safe on th' moor. "Kdybych před ostatními kluky nedokázal udržet tajemství, tajemství o liščích mláďatech, o ptačích hnízdech, o norách divokých tvorů, nebylo by na tom vřesovišti nic bezpečného." Aye, I can keep secrets.” Ano, dokážu udržet tajemství."

Mistress Mary did not mean to put out her hand and clutch his sleeve but she did it. Paní Mary nechtěla natáhnout ruku a chytit ho za rukáv, ale udělala to.

“I've stolen a garden,” she said very fast. "Ukradla jsem zahradu," řekla velmi rychle. “It isn't mine. "Není moje." It isn't anybody's. Není to nikoho. Nobody wants it, nobody cares for it, nobody ever goes into it. Nikdo to nechce, nikdo se o to nestará, nikdo do toho nikdy nejde. Perhaps everything is dead in it already. Snad už je v něm všechno mrtvé. I don't know.”

She began to feel hot and as contrary as she had ever felt in her life. Začalo jí být horko a tak protikladně, jako nikdy v životě.

“I don't care, I don't care! „Je mi to jedno, je mi to jedno! Nobody has any right to take it from me when I care about it and they don't. Nikdo nemá právo mi to brát, když mi na tom záleží a jim ne. They're letting it die, all shut in by itself,” she ended passionately, and she threw her arms over her face and burst out crying—poor little Mistress Mary. Nechávají to zemřít, všechno zavřené samo do sebe,“ ukončila vášnivě, přehodila si ruce přes obličej a propukla v pláč – chudinka malá paní Mary.

Dickon's curious blue eyes grew rounder and rounder. Dickonovy zvědavé modré oči se stále zakulacovaly.

“Eh-h-h!” he said, drawing his exclamation out slowly, and the way he did it meant both wonder and sympathy. "Eh-hh!" řekl a pomalu vytáhl svůj výkřik a způsob, jakým to udělal, znamenal zároveň úžas i soucit.

“I've nothing to do,” said Mary. "Nemám co dělat," řekla Mary. “Nothing belongs to me. „Nic mi nepatří. I found it myself and I got into it myself. Sám jsem to našel a sám jsem se do toho pustil. I was only just like the robin, and they wouldn't take it from the robin.” Byl jsem jen jako červenka a oni by to července nevzali.“

“Where is it?” asked Dickon in a dropped voice. "Kde to je?" zeptal se Dickon sníženým hlasem.

Mistress Mary got up from the log at once. Paní Mary okamžitě vstala z klády. She knew she felt contrary again, and obstinate, and she did not care at all. Věděla, že se znovu cítí opačně a tvrdohlavě, a vůbec ji to nezajímalo. She was imperious and Indian, and at the same time hot and sorrowful. Byla panovačná a indická a zároveň žhavá a smutná.

“Come with me and I'll show you,” she said. "Pojď se mnou a já ti to ukážu," řekla.

She led him round the laurel path and to the walk where the ivy grew so thickly. Vedla ho kolem vavřínové stezky a na procházku, kde břečťan tak hustě rostl. Dickon followed her with a queer, almost pitying, look on his face. Dickon ji následoval s podivným, téměř lítostivým výrazem ve tváři. He felt as if he were being led to look at some strange bird's nest and must move softly. Měl pocit, jako by ho vedli podívat se na nějaké podivné ptačí hnízdo a musel se pohybovat tiše. When she stepped to the wall and lifted the hanging ivy he started. Když přistoupila ke zdi a zvedla visící břečťan, začal. There was a door and Mary pushed it slowly open and they passed in together, and then Mary stood and waved her hand round defiantly. Byly tam dveře a Mary je pomalu otevřela a společně vešli dovnitř, a pak se Mary postavila a vzdorně mávla rukou.

“It's this,” she said. "To je tohle," řekla. “It's a secret garden, and I'm the only one in the world who wants it to be alive.” "Je to tajná zahrada a já jsem jediný na světě, kdo chce, aby byla živá."

Dickon looked round and round about it, and round and round again. Dickon se rozhlížel kolem dokola a znovu dokola.

“Eh!” he almost whispered, “it is a queer, pretty place! "Eh!" skoro zašeptal: „Je to zvláštní, krásné místo! It's like as if a body was in a dream.” Je to, jako by tělo bylo ve snu.“

CHAPTER XI

THE NEST OF THE MISSEL THRUSH

For two or three minutes he stood looking round him, while Mary watched him, and then he began to walk about softly, even more lightly than Mary had walked the first time she had found herself inside the four walls. Dvě nebo tři minuty stál a rozhlížel se kolem sebe, zatímco ho Mary pozorovala, a pak se začal tiše procházet, ještě lehceji než Mary, když se poprvé ocitla mezi čtyřmi stěnami. His eyes seemed to be taking in everything—the gray trees with the gray creepers climbing over them and hanging from their branches, the tangle on the walls and among the grass, the evergreen alcoves with the stone seats and tall flower urns standing in them. Zdálo se, že jeho oči vnímají všechno – šedé stromy s šedými popínavými rostlinami, které po nich šplhají a visí z jejich větví, změť na zdech a mezi trávou, stále zelené výklenky s kamennými sedadly a vysokými květinovými urnami, které v nich stojí.

“I never thought I'd see this place,” he said at last, in a whisper. "Nikdy jsem si nemyslel, že tohle místo uvidím," řekl nakonec šeptem.

“Did you know about it?” asked Mary. "Věděl jsi o tom?" zeptala se Mary.

She had spoken aloud and he made a sign to her. Promluvila nahlas a on jí dal znamení.

“We must talk low,” he said, “or someone'll hear us an' wonder what's to do in here.” "Musíme mluvit tiše," řekl, "nebo nás někdo uslyší a bude se divit, co se tady dá dělat."

“Oh! I forgot!” said Mary, feeling frightened and putting her hand quickly against her mouth. Zapomněl jsem!" řekla Mary a cítila se vyděšeně a rychle si položila ruku na ústa. “Did you know about the garden?” she asked again when she had recovered herself. "Věděl jsi o zahradě?" zeptala se znovu, když se vzpamatovala.

Dickon nodded. Dickon přikývl.

“Martha told me there was one as no one ever went inside,” he answered. "Martha mi řekla, že tam jeden byl, protože dovnitř nikdy nikdo nešel," odpověděl. “Us used to wonder what it was like.” "Přemýšleli jsme, jaké to je."

He stopped and looked round at the lovely gray tangle about him, and his round eyes looked queerly happy. Zastavil se a rozhlédl se po krásné šedé změti kolem sebe a jeho kulaté oči vypadaly podivně šťastně.

“Eh! the nests as'll be here come springtime,” he said. "Hnízda tady budou na jaře," řekl. “It'd be th' safest nestin' place in England. "Bylo by to nejbezpečnější hnízdiště v Anglii." No one never comin' near an' tangles o' trees an' roses to build in. Nikdo se nikdy nepřiblíží ke spleti stromů a růží, aby tam zabudoval. I wonder all th' birds on th' moor don't build here.” Divím se, že všichni ptáci na vřesovišti nestaví tady."

Mistress Mary put her hand on his arm again without knowing it. Paní Mary mu znovu položila ruku na paži, aniž by to věděla.

“Will there be roses?” she whispered. "Budou tam růže?" zašeptala. “Can you tell? "Můžeš mi říct? I thought perhaps they were all dead.” Myslel jsem, že jsou možná všichni mrtví."

“Eh! No! Ne! Not them—not all of 'em!” he answered. Ne oni - ne všichni!" odpověděl. “Look here!” "Podívej se sem!"

He stepped over to the nearest tree—an old, old one with gray lichen all over its bark, but upholding a curtain of tangled sprays and branches. Přistoupil k nejbližšímu stromu – starému, starému s šedým lišejníkem po celé jeho kůře, ale podpíral závěs ze spletitých postřikovačů a větví. He took a thick knife out of his pocket and opened one of its blades. Vytáhl z kapsy silný nůž a otevřel jednu z jeho čepelí.

“There's lots o' dead wood as ought to be cut out,” he said. "Je tam spousta mrtvého dřeva, které by se mělo vyřezat," řekl. “An' there's a lot o' old wood, but it made some new last year. "A je tam hodně starého dřeva, ale vloni z něj bylo něco nového." This here's a new bit,” and he touched a shoot which looked brownish green instead of hard, dry gray. Tohle je nový kousek,“ a dotkl se výhonku, který vypadal hnědozeleně místo tvrdé, suché šedé.

Mary touched it herself in an eager, reverent way. Mary se ho sama dotkla dychtivým, uctivým způsobem.

“That one?” she said. "Tento?" ona řekla. “Is that one quite alive quite?” "Je to docela živé?"

Dickon curved his wide smiling mouth. Dickon zakřivil svá široká usměvavá ústa.