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Hans Brinker by Mary Mapes Dodge, Chapter 1. Hans and Gretel

Chapter 1. Hans and Gretel

On a bright December morning long ago, two thinly clad children were kneeling upon the bank of a frozen canal in Holland.

The sun had not yet appeared, but the gray sky was parted near the horizon, and its edges shone crimson with the coming day. Most of the good Hollanders were enjoying a placid morning nap. Even Mynheer von Stoppelnoze, that worthy old Dutchman, was still slumbering "in beautiful repose". Now and then some peasant woman, poising a well-filled basket upon her head, came skimming over the glassy surface of the canal; or a lusty boy, skating to his day's work in the town, cast a good-natured grimace toward the shivering pair as he flew along. Meanwhile, with many a vigorous puff and pull, the brother and sister, for such they were, seemed to be fastening something to their feet--not skates, certainly, but clumsy pieces of wood narrowed and smoothed at their lower edge, and pierced with holes, through which were threaded strings of rawhide.

These queer-looking affairs had been made by the boy Hans. His mother was a poor peasant woman, too poor even to think of such a thing as buying skates for her little ones. Rough as these were, they had afforded the children many a happy hour upon the ice. And now, as with cold, red fingers our young Hollanders tugged at the strings--their solemn faces bending closely over their knees--no vision of impossible iron runners came to dull the satisfaction glowing within.

In a moment the boy arose and, with a pompous swing of the arms and a careless "Come on, Gretel," glided easily across the canal. "Ah, Hans," called his sister plaintively, "this foot is not well yet. The strings hurt me on last market day, and now I cannot bear them tied in the same place." "Tie them higher up, then," answered Hans, as without looking at her he performed a wonderful cat's cradle step on the ice. "How can I? The string is too short." Giving vent to a good-natured Dutch whistle, the English of which was that girls were troublesome creatures, he steered toward her.

"You are foolish to wear such shoes, Gretel, when you have a stout leather pair. Your klompen [* Wooden shoes.] would be better than these." "Why, Hans! Do you forget? The father threw my beautiful new shoes in the fire. Before I knew what he had done, they were all curled up in the midst o the burning peat. I can skate with these, but not with my wooden ones. Be careful now--" Hans had taken a string from his pocket. Humming a tune as he knelt beside her, he proceeded to fasten Gretel's skate with all the force of his strong young arm. "Oh! oh!" she cried in real pain.

With an impatient jerk Hans unwound the string. He would have cast it on the ground in true big-brother style, had he not just then spied a tear trickling down his sister's cheek. "I'll fix it--never fear," he said with sudden tenderness, "but we must be quick. The mother will need us soon." Then he glanced inquiringly about him, first at the ground, next at some bare willow branches above his head, and finally at the sky, now gorgeous with streaks of blue, crimson, and gold.

Finding nothing in any of these localities to meet his need, his eye suddenly brightened as, with the air of a fellow who knew what he was about, he took off his cap and, removing the tattered lining, adjusted it in a smooth pad over the top of Gretel's worn-out shoe. "Now," he cried triumphantly, at the same time arranging the strings as briskly as his benumbed fingers would allow, "can you bear some pulling?" Gretel drew up her lips as if to say, "Hurt away," but made no further response. In another moment they were all laughing together, as hand in hand they flew along the canal, never thinking whether the ice would bear them or not, for in Holland ice is generally an all-winter affair. It settles itself upon the water in a determined kind of way, and so far from growing thin and uncertain every time the sun is a little severe upon it, it gathers its forces day by day and flashes defiance to every beam.

Presently, squeak! squeak! sounded something beneath Hans' feet. next his strokes grew shorter, ending oftimes with a jerk, and finally, he lay sprawling upon the ice, kicking against the air with many a fantastic flourish.

"Ha! ha!" laughed Gretel. "That was a fine tumble!" But a tender heart was beating under her coarse blue jacket, and even as she laughed, she came, with a graceful sweep, close to her prostrate brother.

"Are you hurt, Hans? Oh, you are laughing! Catch me now!" And she darted away, shivering no longer, but with cheeks all aglow and eyes sparkling with fun.

Hans sprang to his feet and started in brisk pursuit, but it was no easy thing to catch Gretel. Before she had traveled very far, her skates, too, began to squeak.

Believing that discretion was the better part of valor, she turned suddenly and skated into her pursuer's arms. "Ha! ha! I've caught you!" cried Hans.

"Ha! ha! I caught you ," she retorted, struggling to free herself. Just then a clear, quick voice was heard calling, "Hans! Gretel!" "It's the mother," said Hans, looking solemn in an instant. By this time the canal was gilded with sunlight. The pure morning air was very delightful, and skaters were gradually increasing in numbers. It was hard to obey the summons. But Gretel and Hans were good children; without a thought of yielding to the temptation to linger, they pulled off their skates, leaving half the knots still tied. Hans, with his great square shoulders and bushy yellow hair, towered high above his blue-eyed little sister as they trudged homeward. He was fifteen years old and Gretel was only twelve. He was a solid, hearty-looking boy, with honest eyes and a brow that seemed to bear a sign goodness within just as the little Dutch zomerhuis [* Summer house] wears a motto over its portal. Gretel was lithe and quick; her eyes had a dancing light in them, and while you looked at her cheek the color paled and deepened just as it does upon a bed of pink and white blossoms when the wind is blowing.

As soon as the children turned from the canal, they could see their parents' cottage. Their mother's tall form, arrayed in jacket and petticoat and close-fitting cap, stood, like a picture, in the crooked frame of the doorway. Had the cottage been a mile away, it would still have seemed near. In that flat country every object stands out plainly in the distance; the chickens show as distinctly as the windmills. Indeed, were it not for the dikes and the high banks of the canals, one could stand almost anywhere in middle Holland without seeing a mound or a ridge between the eye and the "jumping-off place." None had better cause to know the nature of these same dikes than Dame Brinker and the panting youngsters now running at her call. But before stating why , let me ask you to take a rocking-chair trip with me to that far country where you may see, perhaps for the first time, some curious things that Hans and Gretel saw every day.

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Chapter 1. Hans and Gretel Kapitel 1. Hans und Gretel Capítulo 1. Hans y Gretel Chapitre 1. Hans et Gretel 1장. 한스와 그레텔 1 skyrius. Hansas ir Gretutė Capítulo 1. Hans e Gretel Глава 1. Ганс и Гретель Bölüm 1. Hans ve Gretel 第一章汉斯和格蕾特

On a bright December morning long ago, two thinly clad children were kneeling upon the bank of a frozen canal in Holland. In una luminosa mattina di dicembre, molto tempo fa, due bambini vestiti in modo sottile erano inginocchiati sulla riva di un canale ghiacciato in Olanda. 很久以前,在十二月一个晴朗的早晨,两个穿着单薄的孩子跪在荷兰一条结冰的运河岸边。

The sun had not yet appeared, but the gray sky was parted near the horizon, and its edges shone crimson with the coming day. 太阳还没有出现,但灰色的天空在地平线附近分开了,它的边缘随着即将到来的日子而闪耀着深红色。 Most of the good Hollanders were enjoying a placid morning nap. 大多数善良的荷兰人都在享受平静的晨睡。 Even Mynheer von Stoppelnoze, that worthy old Dutchman, was still slumbering "in beautiful repose". 就连 Mynheer von Stoppelnoze,那个可敬的老荷兰人,也还在“睡得很香”。 Now and then some peasant woman, poising a well-filled basket upon her head, came skimming over the glassy surface of the canal; or a lusty boy, skating to his day's work in the town, cast a good-natured grimace toward the shivering pair as he flew along. 不时有农妇头顶着装满的篮子,掠过光滑的运河水面。或者是一个精力充沛的男孩,在镇上滑着他一天的工作,一边飞一边对着颤抖的两人做了一个和蔼可亲的鬼脸。 Meanwhile, with many a vigorous puff and pull, the brother and sister, for such they were, seemed to be fastening something to their feet--not skates, certainly, but clumsy pieces of wood narrowed and smoothed at their lower edge, and pierced with holes, through which were threaded strings of rawhide. 与此同时,这对兄妹俩使劲地吸了一口气,又拉了几下,他们似乎在脚上系着什么东西——当然不是溜冰鞋,而是一块笨拙的木头,木头的下缘变窄变光滑,并被刺穿有孔,生皮线穿过这些孔。

These queer-looking affairs had been made by the boy Hans. 这些看起来很奇怪的事情是男孩汉斯干的。 His mother was a poor peasant woman, too poor even to think of such a thing as buying skates for her little ones. 他的母亲是一个贫穷的农妇,穷得连给孩子买溜冰鞋这样的事都想不出来。 Rough as these were, they had afforded the children many a happy hour upon the ice. 尽管这些都很艰难,但他们已经让孩子们在冰上度过了许多快乐的时光。 And now, as with cold, red fingers our young Hollanders tugged at the strings--their solemn faces bending closely over their knees--no vision of impossible iron runners came to dull the satisfaction glowing within. 而现在,就像我们年轻的荷兰人用冰冷、通红的手指拉动琴弦一样——他们严肃的脸紧紧地弯在膝盖上——没有任何不可能的铁跑者的景象会削弱内心的满足感。

In a moment the boy arose and, with a pompous swing of the arms and a careless "Come on, Gretel," glided easily across the canal. "Ah, Hans," called his sister plaintively, "this foot is not well yet. “啊,汉斯,”他妹妹哀怨地叫道,“这只脚还没好。 The strings hurt me on last market day, and now I cannot bear them tied in the same place." 上个集市那天,绳子弄痛了我,现在我不能忍受把它们绑在同一个地方。” "Tie them higher up, then," answered Hans, as without looking at her he performed a wonderful cat's cradle step on the ice. “那就把它们绑得高一点,”汉斯回答,没有看她,他在冰面上做了一个美妙的猫摇篮步。 "How can I? “我怎样才能? The string is too short." 绳子太短了。” Giving vent to a good-natured Dutch whistle, the English of which was that girls were troublesome creatures, he steered toward her.

"You are foolish to wear such shoes, Gretel, when you have a stout leather pair. Your klompen [* Wooden shoes.] would be better than these." "Why, Hans! Do you forget? The father threw my beautiful new shoes in the fire. Before I knew what he had done, they were all curled up in the midst o the burning peat. I can skate with these, but not with my wooden ones. Be careful now--" Hans had taken a string from his pocket. Humming a tune as he knelt beside her, he proceeded to fasten Gretel's skate with all the force of his strong young arm. "Oh! oh!" she cried in real pain.

With an impatient jerk Hans unwound the string. He would have cast it on the ground in true big-brother style, had he not just then spied a tear trickling down his sister's cheek. "I'll fix it--never fear," he said with sudden tenderness, "but we must be quick. The mother will need us soon." Then he glanced inquiringly about him, first at the ground, next at some bare willow branches above his head, and finally at the sky, now gorgeous with streaks of blue, crimson, and gold.

Finding nothing in any of these localities to meet his need, his eye suddenly brightened as, with the air of a fellow who knew what he was about, he took off his cap and, removing the tattered lining, adjusted it in a smooth pad over the top of Gretel's worn-out shoe. "Now," he cried triumphantly, at the same time arranging the strings as briskly as his benumbed fingers would allow, "can you bear some pulling?" Gretel drew up her lips as if to say, "Hurt away," but made no further response. In another moment they were all laughing together, as hand in hand they flew along the canal, never thinking whether the ice would bear them or not, for in Holland ice is generally an all-winter affair. It settles itself upon the water in a determined kind of way, and so far from growing thin and uncertain every time the sun is a little severe upon it, it gathers its forces day by day and flashes defiance to every beam.

Presently, squeak! squeak! sounded something beneath Hans' feet. next his strokes grew shorter, ending oftimes with a jerk, and finally, he lay sprawling upon the ice, kicking against the air with many a fantastic flourish.

"Ha! ha!" laughed Gretel. "That was a fine tumble!" But a tender heart was beating under her coarse blue jacket, and even as she laughed, she came, with a graceful sweep, close to her prostrate brother.

"Are you hurt, Hans? Oh, you are laughing! Catch me now!" And she darted away, shivering no longer, but with cheeks all aglow and eyes sparkling with fun.

Hans sprang to his feet and started in brisk pursuit, but it was no easy thing to catch Gretel. Before she had traveled very far, her skates, too, began to squeak.

Believing that discretion was the better part of valor, she turned suddenly and skated into her pursuer's arms. "Ha! ha! I've caught you!" cried Hans.

"Ha! ha! I caught you ," she retorted, struggling to free herself. Just then a clear, quick voice was heard calling, "Hans! Gretel!" "It's the mother," said Hans, looking solemn in an instant. By this time the canal was gilded with sunlight. The pure morning air was very delightful, and skaters were gradually increasing in numbers. It was hard to obey the summons. But Gretel and Hans were good children; without a thought of yielding to the temptation to linger, they pulled off their skates, leaving half the knots still tied. Hans, with his great square shoulders and bushy yellow hair, towered high above his blue-eyed little sister as they trudged homeward. He was fifteen years old and Gretel was only twelve. He was a solid, hearty-looking boy, with honest eyes and a brow that seemed to bear a sign goodness within just as the little Dutch zomerhuis [* Summer house] wears a motto over its portal. Gretel was lithe and quick; her eyes had a dancing light in them, and while you looked at her cheek the color paled and deepened just as it does upon a bed of pink and white blossoms when the wind is blowing.

As soon as the children turned from the canal, they could see their parents' cottage. Their mother's tall form, arrayed in jacket and petticoat and close-fitting cap, stood, like a picture, in the crooked frame of the doorway. Had the cottage been a mile away, it would still have seemed near. In that flat country every object stands out plainly in the distance; the chickens show as distinctly as the windmills. Indeed, were it not for the dikes and the high banks of the canals, one could stand almost anywhere in middle Holland without seeing a mound or a ridge between the eye and the "jumping-off place." None had better cause to know the nature of these same dikes than Dame Brinker and the panting youngsters now running at her call. But before stating why , let me ask you to take a rocking-chair trip with me to that far country where you may see, perhaps for the first time, some curious things that Hans and Gretel saw every day.