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『あしながおじさん』英文/和訳 CHAPTER VIII 四年生の一年 Part 1

『Daddy-Long-Legs』CHAPTER VIII 前半です。ジュディが家庭教師として過ごす夏、キャンプ・マクブライド、四年生としての大学生活、作家としての挫折と再出発、そしてクリスマスまでの心の動きを、英文・和訳ペアと語句色分けで整理しています。

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動作・変化 感情・心理 場面・描写 人物・性格 疑問・転機 重要表現
August 19th

Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,

My window looks out on the loveliest landscape—ocean-scape rather—nothing but water and rocks.

The summer goes.

I spend the morning with Latin and English and algebra and my two stupid girls.

I don’t know how Marion is ever going to get into college, or stay in after she gets there.

And as for Florence, she is hopeless—but oh! such a little beauty.

I don’t suppose it matters in the least whether they are stupid or not, so long as they are pretty?

One can’t help thinking, though, how their conversation will bore their husbands, unless they are fortunate enough to obtain stupid husbands.

I suppose that’s quite possible; the world seems to be filled with stupid men.

I’ve met a number this summer.

In the afternoon we take a walk on the cliffs, or swim, if the tide is right.

I can swim in salt water with the utmost ease—you see my education is already being put to use!

A letter comes from Mr. Jervis Pendleton in Paris, rather a short, concise letter.

I’m not quite forgiven yet for refusing to follow his advice.

However, if he gets back in time, he will see me for a few days at Lock Willow before college opens.

And if I am very nice and sweet and docile, I shall, I am led to infer, be received into favor again.

Also a letter from Sallie.

She wants me to come to their camp for two weeks in September.

Must I ask your permission, or haven’t I yet arrived at the place where I can do as I please?

Yes, I am sure I have—I’m a Senior, you know.

Having worked all summer, I feel like taking a little healthful recreation.

I want to see the Adirondacks; I want to see Sallie; I want to see Sallie’s brother—he’s going to teach me to canoe.

And, we come to my chief motive, which is mean, I want Master Jervie to arrive at Lock Willow and find me not there.

I must show him that he can’t dictate to me.

No one can dictate to me but you, Daddy—and you can’t always!

I’m off for the woods.

Judy.

* * *
Camp McBride September 6th

Dear Daddy,

Your letter didn’t come in time, I am pleased to say.

If you wish your instructions to be obeyed, you must have your secretary transmit them in less than two weeks.

As you observe, I am here, and have been for five days.

The woods are fine, and so is the camp, and so is the weather, and so are the McBrides, and so is the whole world.

I’m very happy!

There’s Jimmie calling for me to come canoeing.

Good-by—sorry to have disobeyed, but why are you so persistent about not wanting me to play a little?

When I’ve worked all summer I deserve two weeks.

You are awfully dog-in-the-mangerish.

However—I love you still, Daddy, in spite of all your faults.

Judy.

* * *
October 3rd

Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,

Back at college and a Senior—also editor of the Monthly.

It doesn’t seem possible, does it, that so sophisticated a person, just four years ago, was an inmate of the John Grier Home?

We do arrive fast in America!

What do you think of this?

A note from Master Jervie directed to Lock Willow and forwarded here.

He’s sorry but he finds that he can’t get up there this autumn.

He has accepted an invitation to go yachting with some friends.

Hopes I’ve had a nice summer and am enjoying the country.

And he knew all the time that I was with the McBrides, for Julia told him so!

You men ought to leave intrigue to women; you haven’t a light enough touch.

Julia has a trunkful of the most ravishing new clothes.

An evening gown of rainbow Liberty crêpe that would be fitting raiment for the angels in Paradise.

And I thought that my own clothes this year were unprecedentedly beautiful.

I copied Mrs. Paterson’s wardrobe with the aid of a cheap dressmaker.

And though the gowns didn’t turn out quite twins of the originals, I was entirely happy until Julia unpacked.

But now—I live to see Paris!

Dear Daddy, aren’t you glad you’re not a girl?

I suppose you think that the fuss we make over clothes is too absolutely silly?

It is. No doubt about it.

But it’s entirely your fault.

Did you ever hear about the learned Herr Professor who regarded unnecessary adornment with contempt?

He favored sensible, utilitarian clothes for women.

His wife, who was an obliging creature, adopted “dress reform.”

And what do you think he did?

He eloped with a chorus girl.

Yours ever,
Judy.

P.S. The chamber-maid on our corridor wears blue checked gingham aprons.

I am going to get her some brown ones instead, and sink the blue ones in the bottom of the lake.

I have a reminiscent chill every time I look at them.

* * *
November 17th

Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,

Such a blight has fallen over my literary career.

I don’t know whether to tell you or not, but I would like some sympathy—silent sympathy, please.

Don’t reopen the wound by referring to it in your next letter.

I’ve been writing a book, all last winter in the evenings, and all summer when I wasn’t teaching Latin to my two stupid children.

I just finished it before college opened and sent it to a publisher.

He kept it two months, and I was certain he was going to take it.

But yesterday morning an express parcel came, thirty cents due, and there it was back again.

With a letter from the publisher, a very nice, fatherly letter—but frank!

He said he saw from the address that I was still in college.

And if I would accept some advice, he would suggest that I put all of my energy into my lessons and wait until I graduated before beginning to write.

He enclosed his reader’s opinion.

Here it is:

“Plot highly improbable. Characterization exaggerated. Conversation unnatural.”

“A good deal of humor but not always in the best of taste.”

“Tell her to keep on trying, and in time she may produce a real book.”

Not on the whole flattering, is it, Daddy?

And I thought I was making a notable addition to American literature.

I did truly.

I was planning to surprise you by writing a great novel before I graduated.

I collected the material for it while I was at Julia’s last Christmas.

But I dare say the editor is right.

Probably two weeks was not enough in which to observe the manners and customs of a great city.

I took it walking with me yesterday afternoon.

And when I came to the gas house, I went in and asked the engineer if I might borrow his furnace.

He politely opened the door, and with my own hands I chucked it in.

I felt as though I had cremated my only child!

I went to bed last night utterly dejected.

I thought I was never going to amount to anything, and that you had thrown away your money for nothing.

But what do you think?

I woke up this morning with a beautiful new plot in my head.

And I’ve been going about all day planning my characters, just as happy as I could be.

No one can ever accuse me of being a pessimist!

If I had a husband and twelve children swallowed by an earthquake one day, I’d bob up smilingly the next morning and commence to look for another set.

Affectionately,
Judy.

* * *
December 14th

Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,

I dreamed the funniest dream last night.

I thought I went into a book store and the clerk brought me a new book named “The Life and Letters of Judy Abbott.”

I could see it perfectly plainly—red cloth binding with a picture of the John Grier Home on the cover.

And my portrait for a frontispiece with, “Very truly yours, Judy Abbott,” written below.

But just as I was turning to the end to read the inscription on my tombstone, I woke up.

It was very annoying!

I almost found out who I’m going to marry and when I’m going to die.

Don’t you think it would be interesting if you really could read the story of your life—written perfectly truthfully by an omniscient author?

And suppose you could only read it on this condition: that you would never forget it.

But would have to go through life knowing ahead of time exactly how everything you did would turn out.

And foreseeing to the exact hour the time when you would die.

How many people do you suppose would have the courage to read it then?

Or how many could suppress their curiosity sufficiently to escape from reading it?

Even at the price of having to live without hope and without surprises?

Life is monotonous enough at best; you have to eat and sleep about so often.

But imagine how deadly monotonous it would be if nothing unexpected could happen between meals.

Mercy! Daddy, there’s a blot, but I’m on the third page and I can’t begin a new sheet.

I’m going on with biology again this year—very interesting subject.

We’re studying the alimentary system at present.

You should see how sweet a cross-section of the duodenum of a cat is under the microscope.

Also we’ve arrived at philosophy—interesting but evanescent.

I prefer biology where you can pin the subject under discussion to a board.

There’s another! And another! This pen is weeping copiously.

Please excuse its tears.

Do you believe in free will?

I do—unreservedly.

I don’t agree at all with the philosophers who think that every action is the absolutely inevitable and automatic resultant of an aggregation of remote causes.

That’s the most immoral doctrine I ever heard—nobody would be to blame for anything.

If a man believed in fatalism, he would naturally just sit down and say, “The Lord’s will be done.”

And continue to sit until he fell over dead.

I believe absolutely in my own free will and my own power to accomplish.

And that is the belief that moves mountains.

You watch me become a great author!

I have four chapters of my new book finished and five more drafted.

This is a very abstruse letter—does your head ache, Daddy?

I think we’ll stop now and make some fudge.

I’m sorry I can’t send you a piece.

It will be unusually good, for we’re going to make it with real cream and three butter balls.

Yours affectionately,
Judy.

P.S. We’re having fancy dancing in gymnasium class.

You can see by the accompanying picture how much we look like a real ballet.

The one on the end accomplishing a graceful pirouette is me—I mean I.

* * *
December 26th

My dear, dear Daddy,

Haven’t you any sense?

Don’t you know that you mustn’t give one girl seventeen Christmas presents?

I’m a Socialist, please remember; do you wish to turn me into a Plutocrat?

Think how embarrassing it would be if we should ever quarrel!

I should have to engage a moving van to return your gifts.

I am sorry that the necktie I sent was so wobbly.

I knit it with my own hands, as you doubtless discovered from internal evidence.

You will have to wear it on cold days and keep your coat buttoned up tight.

Thank you, Daddy, a thousand times.

I think you’re the sweetest man that ever lived—and the foolishest!

Judy.

Here’s a four-leaf clover from Camp McBride to bring you good luck for the New Year.

出典:Project Gutenberg『Daddy-Long-Legs』by Jean Webster をもとに、英語学習用の英文・和訳・語句色分け形式に編集しています。

あしながおじさん

『あしながおじさん』英文/和訳 CHAPTER VII 三年生の一年 続き 『あしながおじさん』英文/和訳 CHAPTER VIII 四年生の一年 Part 2