“没有礼物圣诞节怎么过？”乔躺在小地毯上咕哝。
“贫穷真可怕！”梅格发出一声叹息，低头望着身上的旧衣服。
“有些女孩子拥有荣华富贵，有些却一无所有，我认为这不公平。”艾美鼻子轻轻一 哼，三分出于轻蔑，七分出于嫉妒。
“但我们有父母姐妹，”坐在一角的贝思提出。
这句令人愉快的话使炉火映照下的四张年轻的脸庞明亮起来。”我们没有父亲，很长一 段时间都将没有，”乔伤心地说。听到这句话，大家的脸又暗淡下去。她虽没说"可能永远 没有"，但每个人心里都把这句话悄悄说了一遍，同时想起远在战场的父亲。
大家一时无言。一会梅格换了个声调说：“你们知道妈妈为什么建议今年圣诞节不派礼 物吗？因为寒冷的冬天就要来了，而我们的男人在军营里受苦受难，我们不应该花钱寻乐。
虽然我们能力有限，但可以在这方面做出一点小小的牺牲，而且应该做得高高兴兴。不 过我可并不高兴。”梅格摇摇脑袋。
想到那些梦寐以求的漂亮礼物，她感到遗憾不已。
“我看我们那丁点儿钱也帮不上什么忙。我们每人只得一元钱，献给部队也没多大用 处。我们不要期待妈妈给我们什么礼物，不过我真的很想买一本《水中女神》，那本书我早 就想买了，”乔说。她是个蛀书虫。
“我本来打算买些新乐谱，”贝思轻轻叹了口气说，声音轻得谁也听不到。
“我要买一盒精致的费伯氏画笔。我真的很需要，”艾美干脆地说。
“妈妈没说过这钱该怎么花，要是看着我们两手空空，她也不会高兴的。我们倒不如各 自买点自己喜欢的东西高兴高兴。为挣这些钱，我们花了我多少心血！“乔大声说道，蛮有 绅士风度地审视着自己的鞋跟。
“可不是嘛- 差不多一天到晚都得教那些讨厌的孩子，现在多想回家轻松一下啊！”梅 格又开始抱怨了。
“你何尝赶得上我辛苦呢？”乔说，”想想好几个小时和一个吹毛求疵、神经质的老太 太关在一起，被她使唤得团团转，她却永远不会感到满意，把你折腾得真想从这个世界上消 失或者干脆大哭一场，你会感觉怎样？”“怨天尤人并不好，但我真的觉得洗碗打扫房子是 全世界最痛苦的事情。这让我脾气暴躁不算，双手也变得僵硬，连琴也弹不了。”贝思望着 自己粗糙的双手叹一口气，这回每个人都听到了。
“我不相信有谁比我更痛苦，”艾美嚷道，”因为你们都不用去上学。那些女孩子粗俗 无礼，如果你不懂功课，她们就让你下不了台，她们笑话你的衣着，爸爸没有钱要被她们标 价，鼻子长得不漂亮也要被她们侮辱。”“你是说'讥谤'吧？别念成'标价'，好像爸爸是个 腌菜瓶子似的，”乔边笑边纠正。
“我知道我在说什么你对此不必'冷嘲日（热）讽'，用好的字眼没什么不对，这有助于 增加'字（词）汇'，”艾美义正辞严地反击。
“别斗嘴了，姑娘们。乔，难道你不希望我们拥有爸爸在我们小时候失去的钱吗？哦， 如果我们没有烦恼，那该多幸福啊！”梅格说。她还记得过去的好时光。
“但前几天你说我们比起王孙公子来要幸福多了，因为他们虽然有钱，却一天到晚明争 暗斗，烦恼不休。”“我是这么说过，贝思，嗯，现在也还是这么想，因为，虽然我们不得 不干活，但我们可以互相嬉戏，而且，如乔所说，是蛮快活的一伙。”“乔就是爱用这些粗 俗的字眼！”艾美抨击道，用一种谴责的眼光望着躺在地毯上的长身躯。乔立即坐起来，双 手插进衣袋，吹起了口哨。
“别这样，乔，只有男孩子才这样做。”
“所以我才吹。”
“我憎恨粗鲁、没有淑女风度的女孩！”“我讨厌虚假、矫揉造作的毛头妹！“'小巢 里的鸟儿一致同意，'"和平使者贝思唱起歌儿，脸上的表情滑稽有趣。尖着嗓门的两人化为 一笑，”斗嘴"就此结束。
“我说姑娘们，你们两个都不对，”梅格开始以姐姐的身份说教，”约瑟芬，你已经长 大了，不应再玩男孩子的把戏，应该检点一些。你还是小姑娘时这倒没有什么，但你现在已 长得这么高，而且网起了头发，就得记住自己是个年轻女士。“我不是！如果网起头发就把 我当女士的话，我就梳两条辫子，直到二十岁，”乔大声叫起来。她拉掉发网，披落一头栗 色的厚发。”我恨我得长大，得做马奇小姐。我恨穿长礼服，恨故作正经的漂亮小姐。我喜 欢男孩子的游戏，男孩子的活儿以及男孩子风度，却偏偏是个女孩子，真是倒霉透了。做不 成男孩真让我止不住失望，可现在比以往任何时候都要糟，因为我是那么想跟爸爸一起参加 战斗，却只能呆坐在家中做女工，像个死气沉沉的老太太！”乔抖动蓝色的军袜，把里头的 针弄得铮铮作响，线团也滚落到一边。
“可怜的乔！真是不幸，但有什么办法呢？你只好把自己的名字改得男子气一些，扮演 我们姐妹的哥哥，找点安慰。”贝思一面说，一面用柔软的双手轻轻抚摸着靠在她膝上的头 发蓬乱的脑袋。
“至于你，艾美，”梅格接着说，”你过于讲究，过于一本正经。你的神态现在看上去 挺有趣，但要是一不小心，长大就会变成个装模作样的小傻瓜。如果不刻意作态，你的言谈 举止倒是十分优雅的，不过你那些荒谬的言语和乔的傻话却是半斤对八两。”“如果乔是个 假小子，艾美是个小傻瓜，请问，我是什么？”贝思问道。
“你是个乖宝贝，再没别的，”梅格亲热地答道。此话无人反驳，因为这位”小胆鼠" 是全家人的宠儿。
由于年轻的读者们喜欢知道“人物样貌"，我们趁此机会把坐在黄昏的余辉下做针线活 儿的四姐妹概略描述一下。此时屋外的冬雪正轻轻飘落，屋内炉火噼啪欢响。虽然这间旧房 子铺着褪了色的地毯，摆设也相当简单，但却显得十分舒适：墙上挂着一两幅雅致的图画， 壁凹内堆满了书本，窗台上是绽放的菊花和圣诞花，屋里洋溢着一片宁静、温馨的气氛。
大姐玛格丽特，十六岁，出落得十分标致。她体态丰盈，肌肤洁白，大大的眼睛，甜甜 的笑容，一头棕色秀发又浓又厚，双手白皙，这令她颇为自得。十五岁的乔身材修长，皮肤 黝黑，见了使人想到一匹小公马，因为她修长的四肢相当碍事，她仿佛总是不知道该如何处 置它们。她嘴巴刚毅，鼻子俊俏，灰色的眼睛异常敏锐，似乎能看穿一切，眼神时而炽烈， 时而风趣，时而又像在沉思。浓密的长发使她显得特别美丽，但为了方便长发通常被她束入 发网。她双肩圆润，大手大脚，穿着又宽又大的衣服。正迅速长成一个成熟的女性，心里却 极不愿，因此常常流露出这个阶段的女孩所特有的尴尬神情。伊丽莎白，人称贝思，十三 岁，肤色红润，秀发润泽，目如秋波。她举止腼腆，声音羞怯，神情宁静而深远，被父亲称 为"小宁静"，此名非她莫属，因为她似乎独个生活在自己的伊甸园中，只敢出来会会几个最 亲最信任的人。艾美虽然最小，却是个十分重要的人物。至少她自我感觉如此。她生得纤细 端庄，肌骨晶莹，一双蓝眼睛，金黄色的头发卷曲披落肩头，言谈举止十足一个讲究风度的 年轻女子。四姐妹的性格如何，我们后面分解。
时钟敲响六下，贝思已经扫干净壁炉地面，把一双便鞋放到上面烘干。看到这双旧鞋 子，姑娘们想起妈妈就要回家了，心情明朗起来，准备迎接妈妈。梅格停止了训导，点上了 灯。艾美不用人说，就离开了安乐椅。乔则坐起来把鞋子挪近火边，一时忘却了疲倦。
“鞋子太破旧了，妈咪得换双新的。”
“我想用自己的钱给她买一双，”贝思说。
“不，我来买！”艾美嚷道。
“我最大，”梅格刚开口，就被乔坚决地打断了- “爸爸不在家，我就是家里的男子汉 了，鞋子我来买。因为爸爸跟我说过，他不在家的时候要我好好照顾妈妈。”“依我说应该 这么着，”贝思说，”我们各自给妈妈送件圣诞礼物，我们自己什么都别要了。”“那才像 你！好妹妹，送什么好呢？”乔嚷道。
大家都认真想了一会，梅格似乎从自己漂亮的双手得到启发，宣布道：“我要给妈妈送 一双精致的手套。”“最好送双军鞋，”乔高声说道。
“我要送些镶边小手帕，”贝思说。
“我会送一小瓶古龙香水。因为妈妈喜欢，而且不用太花钱，我还可以省点钱给自己买 铅笔，”艾美接着说。
“我们怎么个送法呢？”梅格问。
“把礼物放在桌上，把妈妈带进来，让她在我们面前亲自拆开礼物。你忘记我们是怎样 过生日的吗？”乔回答。
“每当我坐在那张大椅子上，头戴花冠，看着你们一个个上前送上礼物，吻我一下时， 心里真是慌得很。我喜欢你们的礼物和亲吻，但要在众目睽睽之下把礼物拆开，我就吓得心 里直打鼓儿，”贝思说，边烘茶点，边取暖。
“先别告诉妈咪，让她以为我们是为自己准备的，给她一个惊喜。我们明天下午就得去 办货，梅格，圣诞夜的话剧还有许多事情要准备呐。”乔说话的时候倒背着手，仰着头，来 回踱步。
“演完这回，以后我就不演了。我年岁大，该退出了，”对"化装游戏"一直童心未泯的 梅格说。
“你不会停止的，我知道，只要你能够披下头发，戴上金纸做的珠宝，身披白长裙摇曳 而行，你就不会的。因为你是我们的最佳演员，如果你退出，那么一切都完了，”乔说，” 我们今晚应该排练一下。来，艾美，试演一下晕厥那一场，你演这幕时生硬得像根拨火 棍。”“有什么办法！我从来没见过人晕倒，我也不想像你一样直挺挺地摔倒，弄得自己青 一块紫一块的。如果我可以轻轻地倒在地上，我就倒下，否则，还不如体面地倒在椅子上。 即使雨果真的用枪指着我也是这句话，”艾美回答。她的表演天赋并不高，被选派这一角色 是因为她年纪小，碰上歹徒的尖叫声由她发出更可信。
“这样来：两手这样握着，摇摇晃晃地走过房间，发狂般地叫喊：'罗德力戈！救救 我！救救我！'"乔做示范，夸张地尖叫一声，令人毛骨悚然。
艾美跟着模仿，但她伸出的双手僵硬无比，发出的尖叫声与情景相差万里。她那一声" 啊！”不像是感到恐惧和极度痛苦，倒像是被针戳了一下。乔失望地叹了一声，梅格却放声 大笑，贝思看得有趣，把面包也烤糊了。
“不可救药！演出时尽力而为吧，如果观众笑你，别怪我。
来吧，梅格。”
接下来就顺利多了。唐·佩德罗一口气读下两页挑战世界的宣言；女巫黑格把满满一锅 蟾蜍放在火里炖，妖里妖气地给它们念一道可怕的咒语；罗德力戈力拔山河地扯断锁链，雨 果狂叫着"哈！哈！”在悔恨和砒霜的折磨下死去。
“这是做得最好的一次，”当"死去"的反角坐起来揉擦肘部时，梅格说。
“乔，你能写出这么好的剧本，而且演得这么出色，简直不可思议！你真是莎士比亚再 世！”贝思喊道。她坚信姐妹们才华横溢，无所不能。
“过奖了，”乔谦逊地回答，”《女巫的咒语，一个歌剧式的悲剧》是挺不错的，不过 我想演《麦克佩斯》，如果我们能给班柯一扇活地板门的话。我一直想演刺客这一角色。' 我眼前看到的是一把刀吗？'"乔轻声朗诵，像她所见过的一位著名悲剧演员一样，转动着眼 珠，两手抓向空中。
“错了，这是烧烤叉，你放上去的不是面包，而是妈妈的鞋。贝思看入迷了！“梅格叫 起来。众姐妹大笑不已，排练也随之结束。
“看到你们这么快活我真高兴，我的女儿们。”门口传来一串愉快的声音，这些演员和 观众转过身来，迎接一位高高个儿、充满母性的女士。她神情可亲、令人愉快。她的衣着虽 不华丽，但仪态高贵。在姐妹们心目中，这位身披灰色外套，头戴一顶过时无边小圆软帽的 女士是普天下最出色的母亲。
“小宝贝们，今天过得怎么样？我事情太多，要准备好明天就得发出的箱子，没能回家 吃饭。有人来过吗，贝思？你感冒好点没有，梅格？乔，你看上去累极了，来吻我吧，宝 贝。”马奇太太慈爱地一一询问，一面换去湿衣物，穿上暖和的拖鞋，坐在安乐椅中，把艾 美拉到膝边，准备享受繁忙的一天中最幸福的时光。姑娘们纷纷行动起来，各显身手，尽量 把一切都布置得舒适怡人。梅格摆茶桌，乔搬木柴并放椅子，却把柴丢落一地，把椅子也打 翻，弄得咔嗒直响，贝思在客厅和厨房之间匆匆来回穿梭，忙碌而安静，而艾美则袖手旁 观，发号施令。
大家都聚到桌边的时候，马奇太太说：“用饭后，我有好东西给你们。”她的脸上有一 种异乎寻常的快乐。
姐妹们脸上立即现出如阳光般灿烂的笑容。贝思顾不得手里拿着饼干，拍起了手掌，乔 把餐巾一抛，嚷道：“信！信！
爸爸万岁！”
“是的，一封令人愉快的长信。他一切都好，冬季也不会熬得很苦，我们不必担忧。他 祝我们圣诞快乐，事事如意，并特别问候你们这些姑娘们，”马奇太太边说边用手摸着衣 袋，似乎里头装着珍宝。
“快点吃饭！别停下来弯起你的小手指边吃边傻笑，艾美，”乔嚷道，她因为急不可耐 地要听信，被茶噎了一口，涂了奶油的面包也掉落到地毯上。
贝思不再吃了，她悄悄走到幽暗的屋角坐下，默默想着那即将到来的欢乐，直到大家吃 完。
“爸爸已超过征兵年龄，身体也不适宜当兵，我认为他去当随军牧师真是太好了，”梅 格热切地说。
“我真想当个鼓手，或者当个--什么来着？或者去当个护士，这样我就可以在他身边帮 忙，”乔大声说道，一边哼了一声。
“睡帐篷，吃不堪入口的食物，用大锡杯喝水，这一定十分难受，”艾美叹道。
“他什么时候回家，妈妈？”贝思声音微颤地问道。
“不出几个月，亲爱的，除非他病倒。他在部队一天就会尽忠职守一天。我们也不会要 求他提早一分钟回来。现在来读信吧！”她们都围近火边，妈妈坐在大椅子上，贝思坐在她 脚边，梅格和艾美一边一个靠在椅子扶手上，乔故意倚在背后，这样读到信中感人的地方时 别人也不会觉察到她表情的变化。
在那种艰难的日子里，信，尤其是父亲们写回家的信，往往都催人泪下。但这封信却极 少谈及受到的艰难险阻和压抑的乡愁，描述的都是些生动的军营生活、行军情况和部队新 闻，读了令人心情振奋，只是在信尾才展露出一颗深沉的慈父爱心以及渴望回家和妻女们团 聚的愿望。
“给她们献上我所有的爱和吻。告诉她们我天天想念她们，夜夜为她们祈祷，每时每刻 都从她们的爱中得到最大的安慰。要见到她们还要等上漫长的一年，但请提醒她们我可以在 等待中工作，不虚度这段难忘的日子。我知道她们会牢记我的话，做好孩子，忠实地做她们 该做的事，勇敢地生活、战斗，善于自我控制。等我重返家园的时候，我的四个小妇人一定 变得更可爱，更令我感到骄傲。”读到这段，每个人都抽泣鼻子，乔任由大滴大滴的泪珠从 鼻尖滚落下来，艾美顾不得一头鬈发会被弄乱，把脸埋在妈妈的肩头上，呜呜咽咽地说： “我是个自私的女孩！但我一定努力进取，不让爸爸失望。”“我们都会努力！”梅格哭着 说，”我太注重衣着打扮，而且讨厌工作，以后一定尽量改正。”“我会试着做个'小妇人 '，就像爸爸总爱这么叫我的那样，改掉粗野的脾气，做好自己的分内事，不再胡思乱想， “乔说，心里明白在家管好自己的脾气比在南方对付两个敌人还要艰难。
贝思没有言语，只是用深蓝色的军袜抹掉眼泪，拼命埋头编织。她不浪费点滴时间，而 是从身边的工作做起，并暗下决心，一定让爸爸回来欢聚的时候如愿以偿。
马奇太太用她愉悦的声音打破了乔说话之后的一阵沉默：“你们还记得演《天路历程》 的情形吗？那时候你们还都是些小东西。你们最喜欢我把布袋绑到你们背上做担子，再给你 们帽、棍子和纸卷，让你们从屋里走到地窖，也就是'毁灭城'，又再往上一直走到屋顶，在 那里你们可以得到许多好东西，这就是'天国'了。“那多好玩啊，特别是走过狮子群，大战 '地狱魔王'，路过'妖怪谷'时候！”乔说。
“我喜欢包袱掉下来滚落楼梯这个情节，”梅格说。
“我最喜欢的是我们走出来，上到平坦的屋顶，屋顶满是鲜花、乔木和美丽的东西，我 们站在那里，在阳光照耀下，放声欢歌，”贝思微微笑着说，好像又重新回到了那美好的时 刻。
“我不大记得了，只记得我挺害怕那个地窖和黑漆漆的入口，还有就是挺喜欢吃屋顶上 的蛋糕和牛奶。如果不是年龄太大，我倒挺想再演一回。”年仅十二但已显得成熟的艾美开 始谈论告别童真了。
“演这出戏永远没有年龄之分，亲爱的，事实上我们一直都在扮演，只是方式不同而 已。我们重担在肩，道路就在眼前，追求善美、追求幸福的愿望引导我们跨越无数艰难险 阻，最后踏入圣宁之地--真正的'天国'。来吧，往天国进发的小旅客们，再来一次吧。不是 做戏，而是真心真意地去做，看看爸爸回来时你们走了多远的路。”“真的吗，妈妈？我们 的重担在哪里？”缺乏想像力的年轻女士艾美问道。
“刚才你们各人都把自己的担子说了出来，只有贝思除外。恐怕她没有哩，”母亲答 道。
“有呵，我也有。锅、碗、瓶、盆，扫帚抹布，嫉妒有漂亮钢琴的女孩，害怕生人，这 些都是我的担子。”贝思的包袱如此有趣，大家直想笑，不过都没有笑出来，因为这样会大 大伤害她的自尊心。
“干这些有什么不好呢？”梅格沉思着说，”这其实就是追求善美，只是说法不同而 已，而这个故事可以启发我们，因为尽管我们都有追求善美之心，但因为做起来困难，我们 便又忘掉了，不去尽力而为。”“我们今晚本来处于'绝望的深渊'，妈妈像书中的'帮助'一 样来把我们拉了出去，我们应该像教徒一样有几本指导手册。这事怎么办好呢？”乔 问，为自己的想像力给沉闷的任务添加了几分浪漫色彩而自鸣得意。
“圣诞节一早看看你们的枕下，就会找到指导手册了，”马奇太太说。
罕娜嬷嬷收拾桌子时，大家开始讨论新计划，然后取出四个装活计的小篮子，姐妹们开 始飞针走线，为马奇太太缝制被单。针线活是个沉闷的活儿，不过今天晚上谁也没有抱怨。 她们采纳乔的建议，把长长的缝口分为四段，分别称为欧洲、亚洲、非洲和美洲。这样果然 缝得快多了。她们一边缝一边谈论针线穿越的不同国家，更觉进展神速。
九点钟的时候大家停下活儿，像平时那样先唱歌再去睡觉。家里有架老掉牙的钢琴，除 了贝思，大家都不大会弹。她轻轻触动泛黄的琴键，大家随着悠扬的琴声唱了起来。梅格的 嗓音像芦笛一样动听，她和母亲担任这支小演唱队的领唱。
艾美歌声清脆，如蟋蟀的鸣叫，乔则任由歌声在空中飘荡，总是在不适宜的时候冒出个 颤音或怪叫声来，把最深沉的曲调给糟蹋掉。打从牙牙学语的时候开始，她们就一直这样 唱：小星星，亮晶晶，如今这已成了家里的惯例，因为她们的母亲就是个天生的歌唱家。早 上听到的第一个声音就是她在屋子里走动时唱出的云雀般婉转的歌声，晚上，她那轻快的歌 声又成了一天的尾声。这支熟识的摇篮曲姑娘们百听不厌。
"Christmas won't be Christmas without any presents," grumbled Jo, lying on the rug.
"It's so dreadful to be poor!" sighed Meg, looking down at her old dress.
"I don't think it's fair for some girls to have plenty of pretty things, and other girls nothing at all," added little Amy, with an injured sniff.
"We've got Father and Mother, and each other," said Beth contentedly from her corner.
The four young faces on which the firelight shone brightened at the cheerful words, but darkened again as Jo said sadly, "We haven't got Father, and shall not have him for a long time." She didn't say "perhaps never," but each silently added it, thinking of Father far away, where the fighting was.
Nobody spoke for a minute; then Meg said in an altered tone, "You know the reason Mother proposed not having any presents this Christmas was because it is going to be a hard winter for everyone; and she thinks we ought not to spend money for pleasure, when our men are suffering so in the army. We can't do much, but we can make our little sacrifices, and ought to do it gladly. But I am afraid I don't," and Meg shook her head, as she thought regretfully of all the pretty things she wanted.
"But I don't think the little we should spend would do any good. We've each got a dollar, and the army wouldn't be much helped by our giving that. I agree not to expect anything from Mother or you, but I do want to buy _Undine and Sintran_ for myself. I've wanted it so long," said Jo, who was a bookworm.
"I planned to spend mine in new music," said Beth, with a little sigh, which no one heard but the hearth brush and kettle-holder.
"I shall get a nice box of Faber's drawing pencils; I really need them," said Amy decidedly.
"Mother didn't say anything about our money, and she won't wish us to give up everything. Let's each buy what we want, and have a little fun; I'm sure we work hard enough to earn it," cried Jo, examining the heels of her shoes in a gentlemanly manner.
"I know I do--teaching those tiresome children nearly all day, when I'm longing to enjoy myself at home," began Meg, in the complaining tone again.
"You don't have half such a hard time as I do," said Jo. "How would you like to be shut up for hours with a nervous, fussy old lady, who keeps you trotting, is never satisfied, and worries you till you're ready to fly out the window or cry?"
"It's naughty to fret, but I do think washing dishes and keeping things tidy is the worst work in the world. It makes me cross, and my hands get so stiff, I can't practice well at all." And Beth looked at her rough hands with a sigh that any one could hear that time.
"I don't believe any of you suffer as I do," cried Amy, "for you don't have to go to school with impertinent girls, who plague you if you don't know your lessons, and laugh at your dresses, and label your father if he isn't rich, and insult you when your nose isn't nice."
"If you mean libel, I'd say so, and not talk about labels, as if Papa was a pickle bottle," advised Jo, laughing.
"I know what I mean, and you needn't be statirical about it. It's proper to use good words, and improve your vocabilary," returned Amy, with dignity.
"Don't peck at one another, children. Don't you wish we had the money Papa lost when we were little, Jo? Dear me! How happy and good we'd be, if we had no worries!" said Meg, who could remember better times.
"You said the other day you thought we were a deal happier than the King children, for they were fighting and fretting all the time, in spite of their money."
"So I did, Beth. Well, I think we are. For though we do have to work, we make fun of ourselves, and are a pretty jolly set, as Jo would say."
"Jo does use such slang words!" observed Amy, with a reproving look at the long figure stretched on the rug.
Jo immediately sat up, put her hands in her pockets, and began to whistle.
"Don't, Jo. It's so boyish!"
"That's why I do it."
"I detest rude, unladylike girls!"
"I hate affected, niminy-piminy chits!"
"Birds in their little nests agree," sang Beth, the peacemaker, with such a funny face that both sharp voices softened to a laugh, and the "pecking" ended for that time.
"Really, girls, you are both to be blamed," said Meg, beginning to lecture in her elder-sisterly fashion. "You are old enough to leave off boyish tricks, and to behave better, Josephine. It didn't matter so much when you were a little girl, but now you are so tall, and turn up your hair, you should remember that you are a young lady."
"I'm not! And if turning up my hair makes me one, I'll wear it in two tails till I'm twenty," cried Jo, pulling off her net, and shaking down a chestnut mane. "I hate to think I've got to grow up, and be Miss March, and wear long gowns, and look as prim as a China Aster! It's bad enough to be a girl, anyway, when I like boy's games and work and manners! I can't get over my disappointment in not being a boy. And it's worse than ever now, for I'm dying to go and fight with Papa. And I can only stay home and knit, like a poky old woman!"
And Jo shook the blue army sock till the needles rattled like castanets, and her ball bounded across the room.
"Poor Jo! It's too bad, but it can't be helped. So you must try to be contented with making your name boyish, and playing brother to us girls," said Beth, stroking the rough head with a hand that all the dish washing and dusting in the world could not make ungentle in its touch.
"As for you, Amy," continued Meg, "you are altogether to particular and prim. Your airs are funny now, but you'll grow up an affected little goose, if you don't take care. I like your nice manners and refined ways of speaking, when you don't try to be elegant. But your absurd words are as bad as Jo's slang."
"If Jo is a tomboy and Amy a goose, what am I, please?" asked Beth, ready to share the lecture.
"You're a dear, and nothing else," answered Meg warmly, and no one contradicted her, for the 'Mouse' was the pet of the family.
As young readers like to know 'how people look', we will take this moment to give them a little sketch of the four sisters, who sat knitting away in the twilight, while the December snow fell quietly without, and the fire crackled cheerfully within. It was a comfortable room, though the carpet was faded and the furniture very plain, for a good picture or two hung on the walls, books filled the recesses, chrysanthemums and Christmas roses bloomed in the windows, and a pleasant atmosphere of home peace pervaded it.
Margaret, the eldest of the four, was sixteen, and very pretty, being plump and fair, with large eyes, plenty of soft brown hair, a sweet mouth, and white hands, of which she was rather vain. Fifteen- year-old Jo was very tall, thin, and brown, and reminded one of a colt, for she never seemed to know what to do with her long limbs, which were very much in her way. She had a decided mouth, a comical nose, and sharp, gray eyes, which appeared to see everything, and were by turns fierce, funny, or thoughtful. Her long, thick hair was her one beauty, but it was usually bundled into a net, to be out of her way. Round shoulders had Jo, big hands and feet, a flyaway look to her clothes, and the uncomfortable appearance of a girl who was rapidly shooting up into a woman and didn't like it. Elizabeth, or Beth, as everyone called her, was a rosy, smooth- haired, bright-eyed girl of thirteen, with a shy manner, a timid voice, and a peaceful expression which was seldom disturbed. Her father called her 'Little Miss Tranquility', and the name suited her excellently, for she seemed to live in a happy world of her own, only venturing out to meet the few whom she trusted and loved. Amy, though the youngest, was a most important person, in her own opinion at least. A regular snow maiden, with blue eyes, and yellow hair curling on her shoulders, pale and slender, and always carrying herself like a young lady mindful of her manners. What the characters of the four sisters were we will leave to be found out.
The clock struck six and, having swept up the hearth, Beth put a pair of slippers down to warm. Somehow the sight of the old shoes had a good effect upon the girls, for Mother was coming, and everyone brightened to welcome her. Meg stopped lecturing, and lighted the lamp, Amy got out of the easy chair without being asked, and Jo forgot how tired she was as she sat up to hold the slippers nearer to the blaze.
"They are quite worn out. Marmee must have a new pair."
"I thought I'd get her some with my dollar," said Beth.
"No, I shall!" cried Amy.
"I'm the oldest," began Meg, but Jo cut in with a decided, "I'm the man of the family now Papa is away, and I shall provide the slippers, for he told me to take special care of Mother while he was gone."
"I'll tell you what we'll do," said Beth, "let's each get her something for Christmas, and not get anything for ourselves."
"That's like you, dear! What will we get?" exclaimed Jo.
Everyone thought soberly for a minute, then Meg announced, as if the idea was suggested by the sight of her own pretty hands, "I shall give her a nice pair of gloves."
"Army shoes, best to be had," cried Jo.
"Some handkerchiefs, all hemmed," said Beth.
"I'll get a little bottle of cologne. She likes it, and it won't cost much, so I'll have some left to buy my pencils," added Amy.
"How will we give the things?" asked Meg.
"Put them on the table, and bring her in and see her open the bundles. Don't you remember how we used to do on our birthdays?" answered Jo.
"I used to be so frightened when it was my turn to sit in the chair with the crown on, and see you all come marching round to give the presents, with a kiss. I liked the things and the kisses, but it was dreadful to have you sit looking at me while I opened the bundles," said Beth, who was toasting her face and the bread for tea at the same time.
"Let Marmee think we are getting things for ourselves, and then surprise her. We must go shopping tomorrow afternoon, Meg. There is so much to do about the play for Christmas night," said Jo, marching up and down, with her hands behind her back, and her nose in the air.
"I don't mean to act any more after this time. I'm getting too old for such things," observed Meg, who was as much a child as ever about 'dressing-up' frolics.
"You won't stop, I know, as long as you can trail round in a white gown with your hair down, and wear gold-paper jewelry. You are the best actress we've got, and there'll be an end of everything if you quit the boards," said Jo. "We ought to rehearse tonight. Come here, Amy, and do the fainting scene, for you are as stiff as a poker in that."
"I can't help it. I never saw anyone faint, and I don't choose to make myself all black and blue, tumbling flat as you do. If I can go down easily, I'll drop. If I can't, I shall fall into a chair and be graceful. I don't care if Hugo does come at me with a pistol," returned Amy, who was not gifted with dramatic power, but was chosen because she was small enough to be borne out shrieking by the villain of the piece.
"Do it this way. Clasp your hands so, and stagger across the room, crying frantically, 'Roderigo! Save me! Save me!'" and away went Jo, with a melodramatic scream which was truly thrilling.
Amy followed, but she poked her hands out stiffly before her, and jerked herself along as if she went by machinery, and her "Ow!" was more suggestive of pins being run into her than of fear and anguish. Jo gave a despairing groan, and Meg laughed outright, while Beth let her bread burn as she watched the fun with interest. "It's no use! Do the best you can when the time comes, and if the audience laughs, don't blame me. Come on, Meg."
Then things went smoothly, for Don Pedro defied the world in a speech of two pages without a single break. Hagar, the witch, chanted an awful incantation over her kettleful of simmering toads, with weird effect. Roderigo rent his chains asunder manfully, and Hugo died in agonies of remorse and arsenic, with a wild, "Ha! Ha!"
"It's the best we've had yet," said Meg, as the dead villain sat up and rubbed his elbows.
"I don't see how you can write and act such splendid things, Jo. You're a regular Shakespeare!" exclaimed Beth, who firmly believed that her sisters were gifted with wonderful genius in all things.
"Not quite," replied Jo modestly. "I do think _The Witches Curse, an Operatic Tragedy_ is rather a nice thing, but I'd like to try _Macbeth_, if we only had a trapdoor for Banquo. I always wanted to do the killing part. 'Is that a dagger that I see before me?" muttered Jo, rolling her eyes and clutching at the air, as she had seen a famous tragedian do.
"No, it's the toasting fork, with Mother's shoe on it instead of the bread. Beth's stage-struck!" cried Meg, and the rehearsal ended in a general burst of laughter.
"Glad to find you so merry, my girls," said a cheery voice at the door, and actors and audience turned to welcome a tall, motherly lady with a 'can I help you' look about her which was truly delightful. She was not elegantly dressed, but a noble-looking woman, and the girls thought the gray cloak and unfashionable bonnet covered the most splendid mother in the world.
"Well, dearies, how have you got on today? There was so much to do, getting the boxes ready to go tomorrow, that I didn't come home to dinner. Has anyone called, Beth? How is your cold, Meg? Jo, you look tired to death. Come and kiss me, baby."
While making these maternal inquiries Mrs. March got her wet things off, her warm slippers on, and sitting down in the easy chair, drew Amy to her lap, preparing to enjoy the happiest hour of her busy day. The girls flew about, trying to make things comfortable, each in her own way. Meg arranged the tea table, Jo brought wood and set chairs, dropping, over-turning, and clattering everything she touched. Beth trotted to and fro between parlor kitchen, quiet and busy, while Amy gave directions to everyone, as she sat with her hands folded.
As they gathered about the table, Mrs. March said, with a particularly happy face, "I've got a treat for you after supper."
A quick, bright smile went round like a streak of sunshine. Beth clapped her hands, regardless of the biscuit she held, and Jo tossed up her napkin, crying, "A letter! A letter! Three cheers for Father!"
"Yes, a nice long letter. He is well, and thinks he shall get through the cold season better than we feared. He sends all sorts of loving wishes for Christmas, and an especial message to you girls," said Mrs. March, patting her pocket as if she had got a treasure there.
"Hurry and get done! Don't stop to quirk your little finger and simper over your plate, Amy," cried Jo, choking on her tea and dropping her bread, butter side down, on the carpet in her haste to get at the treat.
Beth ate no more, but crept away to sit in her shadowy corner and brood over the delight to come, till the others were ready.
"I think it was so splendid in Father to go as chaplain when he was too old to be drafted, and not strong enough for a soldier," said Meg warmly.
"Don't I wish I could go as a drummer, a vivan--what's its name? Or a nurse, so I could be near him and help him," exclaimed Jo, with a groan.
"It must be very disagreeable to sleep in a tent, and eat all sorts of bad-tasting things, and drink out of a tin mug," sighed Amy.
"When will he come home, Marmee?" asked Beth, with a little quiver in her voice.
"Not for many months, dear, unless he is sick. He will stay and do his work faithfully as long as he can, and we won't ask for him back a minute sooner than he can be spared. Now come and hear the letter."
They all drew to the fire, Mother in the big chair with Beth at her feet, Meg and Amy perched on either arm of the chair, and Jo leaning on the back, where no one would see any sign of emotion if the letter should happen to be touching. Very few letters were written in those hard times that were not touching, especially those which fathers sent home. In this one little was said of the hardships endured, the dangers faced, or the homesickness conquered. It was a cheerful, hopeful letter, full of lively descriptions of camp life, marches, and military news, and only at the end did the writer's heart over-flow with fatherly love and longing for the little girls at home.
"Give them all of my dear love and a kiss. Tell them I think of them by day, pray for them by night, and find my best comfort in their affection at all times. A year seems very long to wait before I see them, but remind them that while we wait we may all work, so that these hard days need not be wasted. I know they will remember all I said to them, that they will be loving children to you, will do their duty faithfully, fight their bosom enemies bravely, and conquer themselves so beautifully that when I come back to them I may be fonder and prouder than ever of my little women." Everybody sniffed when they came to that part. Jo wasn't ashamed of the great tear that dropped off the end of her nose, and Amy never minded the rumpling of her curls as she hid her face on her mother's shoulder and sobbed out, "I am a selfish girl! But I'll truly try to be better, so he mayn't be disappointed in me by-and-by."
"We all will," cried Meg. "I think too much of my looks and hate to work, but won't any more, if I can help it."
"I'll try and be what he loves to call me, 'a little woman' and not be rough and wild, but do my duty here instead of wanting to be somewhere else," said Jo, thinking that keeping her temper at home was a much harder task than facing a rebel or two down South.
Beth said nothing, but wiped away her tears with the blue army sock and began to knit with all her might, losing no time in doing the duty that lay nearest her, while she resolved in her quiet little soul to be all that Father hoped to find her when the year brought round the happy coming home.
Mrs. March broke the silence that followed Jo's words, by saying in her cheery voice, "Do you remember how you used to play Pilgrims Progress when you were little things? Nothing delighted you more than to have me tie my piece bags on your backs for burdens, give you hats and sticks and rolls of paper, and let you travel through the house from the cellar, which was the City of Destruction, up, up, to the housetop, where you had all the lovely things you could collect to make a Celestial City."
"What fun it was, especially going by the lions, fighting Apollyon, and passing through the valley where the hob-goblins were," said Jo.
"I liked the place where the bundles fell off and tumbled downstairs," said Meg.
"I don't remember much about it, except that I was afraid of the cellar and the dark entry, and always liked the cake and milk we had up at the top. If I wasn't too old for such things, I'd rather like to play it over again," said Amy, who began to talk of renouncing childish things at the mature age of twelve.
"We never are too old for this, my dear, because it is a play we are playing all the time in one way or another. Our burdens are here, our road is before us, and the longing for goodness and happiness is the guide that leads us through many troubles and mistakes to the peace which is a true Celestial City. Now, my little pilgrims, suppose you begin again, not in play, but in earnest, and see how far on you can get before Father comes home."
"Really, Mother? Where are our bundles?" asked Amy, who was a very literal young lady.
"Each of you told what your burden was just now, except Beth. I rather think she hasn't got any," said her mother.
"Yes, I have. Mine is dishes and dusters, and envying girls with nice pianos, and being afraid of people."
Beth's bundle was such a funny one that everybody wanted to laugh, but nobody did, for it would have hurt her feelings very much.
"Let us do it," said Meg thoughtfully. "It is only another name for trying to be good, and the story may help us, for though we do want to be good, it's hard work and we forget, and don't do our best."
"We were in the Slough of Despond tonight, and Mother came and pulled us out as Help did in the book. We ought to have our roll of directions, like Christian. What shall we do about that?" asked Jo, delighted with the fancy which lent a little romance to the very dull task of doing her duty.
"Look under your pillows Christmas morning, and you will find your guidebook," replied Mrs. March.
They talked over the new plan while old Hannah cleared the table, then out came the four little work baskets, and the needles flew as the girls made sheets for Aunt March. It was uninteresting sewing, but tonight no one grumbled. They adopted Jo's plan of dividing the long seams into four parts, and calling the quarters Europe, Asia, Africa, and America, and in that way got on capitally, especially when they talked about the different countries as they stitched their way through them.
At nine they stopped work, and sang, as usual, before they went to bed. No one but Beth could get much music out of the old piano, but she had a way of softly touching the yellow keys and making a pleasant accompaniment to the simple songs they sang. Meg had a voice like a flute, and she and her mother led the little choir. Amy chirped like a cricket, and Jo wandered through the airs at her own sweet will, always coming out at the wrong place with a croak or a quaver that spoiled the most pensive tune. They had always done this from the time they could lisp . . .
Crinkle, crinkle, 'ittle 'tar,
and it had become a household custom, for the mother was a born singer. The first sound in the morning was her voice as she went about the house singing like a lark, and the last sound at night was the same cheery sound, for the girls never grew too old for that familiar lullaby.
“贫穷真可怕！”梅格发出一声叹息，低头望着身上的旧衣服。
“有些女孩子拥有荣华富贵，有些却一无所有，我认为这不公平。”艾美鼻子轻轻一 哼，三分出于轻蔑，七分出于嫉妒。
“但我们有父母姐妹，”坐在一角的贝思提出。
这句令人愉快的话使炉火映照下的四张年轻的脸庞明亮起来。”我们没有父亲，很长一 段时间都将没有，”乔伤心地说。听到这句话，大家的脸又暗淡下去。她虽没说"可能永远 没有"，但每个人心里都把这句话悄悄说了一遍，同时想起远在战场的父亲。
大家一时无言。一会梅格换了个声调说：“你们知道妈妈为什么建议今年圣诞节不派礼 物吗？因为寒冷的冬天就要来了，而我们的男人在军营里受苦受难，我们不应该花钱寻乐。
虽然我们能力有限，但可以在这方面做出一点小小的牺牲，而且应该做得高高兴兴。不 过我可并不高兴。”梅格摇摇脑袋。
想到那些梦寐以求的漂亮礼物，她感到遗憾不已。
“我看我们那丁点儿钱也帮不上什么忙。我们每人只得一元钱，献给部队也没多大用 处。我们不要期待妈妈给我们什么礼物，不过我真的很想买一本《水中女神》，那本书我早 就想买了，”乔说。她是个蛀书虫。
“我本来打算买些新乐谱，”贝思轻轻叹了口气说，声音轻得谁也听不到。
“我要买一盒精致的费伯氏画笔。我真的很需要，”艾美干脆地说。
“妈妈没说过这钱该怎么花，要是看着我们两手空空，她也不会高兴的。我们倒不如各 自买点自己喜欢的东西高兴高兴。为挣这些钱，我们花了我多少心血！“乔大声说道，蛮有 绅士风度地审视着自己的鞋跟。
“可不是嘛- 差不多一天到晚都得教那些讨厌的孩子，现在多想回家轻松一下啊！”梅 格又开始抱怨了。
“你何尝赶得上我辛苦呢？”乔说，”想想好几个小时和一个吹毛求疵、神经质的老太 太关在一起，被她使唤得团团转，她却永远不会感到满意，把你折腾得真想从这个世界上消 失或者干脆大哭一场，你会感觉怎样？”“怨天尤人并不好，但我真的觉得洗碗打扫房子是 全世界最痛苦的事情。这让我脾气暴躁不算，双手也变得僵硬，连琴也弹不了。”贝思望着 自己粗糙的双手叹一口气，这回每个人都听到了。
“我不相信有谁比我更痛苦，”艾美嚷道，”因为你们都不用去上学。那些女孩子粗俗 无礼，如果你不懂功课，她们就让你下不了台，她们笑话你的衣着，爸爸没有钱要被她们标 价，鼻子长得不漂亮也要被她们侮辱。”“你是说'讥谤'吧？别念成'标价'，好像爸爸是个 腌菜瓶子似的，”乔边笑边纠正。
“我知道我在说什么你对此不必'冷嘲日（热）讽'，用好的字眼没什么不对，这有助于 增加'字（词）汇'，”艾美义正辞严地反击。
“别斗嘴了，姑娘们。乔，难道你不希望我们拥有爸爸在我们小时候失去的钱吗？哦， 如果我们没有烦恼，那该多幸福啊！”梅格说。她还记得过去的好时光。
“但前几天你说我们比起王孙公子来要幸福多了，因为他们虽然有钱，却一天到晚明争 暗斗，烦恼不休。”“我是这么说过，贝思，嗯，现在也还是这么想，因为，虽然我们不得 不干活，但我们可以互相嬉戏，而且，如乔所说，是蛮快活的一伙。”“乔就是爱用这些粗 俗的字眼！”艾美抨击道，用一种谴责的眼光望着躺在地毯上的长身躯。乔立即坐起来，双 手插进衣袋，吹起了口哨。
“别这样，乔，只有男孩子才这样做。”
“所以我才吹。”
“我憎恨粗鲁、没有淑女风度的女孩！”“我讨厌虚假、矫揉造作的毛头妹！“'小巢 里的鸟儿一致同意，'"和平使者贝思唱起歌儿，脸上的表情滑稽有趣。尖着嗓门的两人化为 一笑，”斗嘴"就此结束。
“我说姑娘们，你们两个都不对，”梅格开始以姐姐的身份说教，”约瑟芬，你已经长 大了，不应再玩男孩子的把戏，应该检点一些。你还是小姑娘时这倒没有什么，但你现在已 长得这么高，而且网起了头发，就得记住自己是个年轻女士。“我不是！如果网起头发就把 我当女士的话，我就梳两条辫子，直到二十岁，”乔大声叫起来。她拉掉发网，披落一头栗 色的厚发。”我恨我得长大，得做马奇小姐。我恨穿长礼服，恨故作正经的漂亮小姐。我喜 欢男孩子的游戏，男孩子的活儿以及男孩子风度，却偏偏是个女孩子，真是倒霉透了。做不 成男孩真让我止不住失望，可现在比以往任何时候都要糟，因为我是那么想跟爸爸一起参加 战斗，却只能呆坐在家中做女工，像个死气沉沉的老太太！”乔抖动蓝色的军袜，把里头的 针弄得铮铮作响，线团也滚落到一边。
“可怜的乔！真是不幸，但有什么办法呢？你只好把自己的名字改得男子气一些，扮演 我们姐妹的哥哥，找点安慰。”贝思一面说，一面用柔软的双手轻轻抚摸着靠在她膝上的头 发蓬乱的脑袋。
“至于你，艾美，”梅格接着说，”你过于讲究，过于一本正经。你的神态现在看上去 挺有趣，但要是一不小心，长大就会变成个装模作样的小傻瓜。如果不刻意作态，你的言谈 举止倒是十分优雅的，不过你那些荒谬的言语和乔的傻话却是半斤对八两。”“如果乔是个 假小子，艾美是个小傻瓜，请问，我是什么？”贝思问道。
“你是个乖宝贝，再没别的，”梅格亲热地答道。此话无人反驳，因为这位”小胆鼠" 是全家人的宠儿。
由于年轻的读者们喜欢知道“人物样貌"，我们趁此机会把坐在黄昏的余辉下做针线活 儿的四姐妹概略描述一下。此时屋外的冬雪正轻轻飘落，屋内炉火噼啪欢响。虽然这间旧房 子铺着褪了色的地毯，摆设也相当简单，但却显得十分舒适：墙上挂着一两幅雅致的图画， 壁凹内堆满了书本，窗台上是绽放的菊花和圣诞花，屋里洋溢着一片宁静、温馨的气氛。
大姐玛格丽特，十六岁，出落得十分标致。她体态丰盈，肌肤洁白，大大的眼睛，甜甜 的笑容，一头棕色秀发又浓又厚，双手白皙，这令她颇为自得。十五岁的乔身材修长，皮肤 黝黑，见了使人想到一匹小公马，因为她修长的四肢相当碍事，她仿佛总是不知道该如何处 置它们。她嘴巴刚毅，鼻子俊俏，灰色的眼睛异常敏锐，似乎能看穿一切，眼神时而炽烈， 时而风趣，时而又像在沉思。浓密的长发使她显得特别美丽，但为了方便长发通常被她束入 发网。她双肩圆润，大手大脚，穿着又宽又大的衣服。正迅速长成一个成熟的女性，心里却 极不愿，因此常常流露出这个阶段的女孩所特有的尴尬神情。伊丽莎白，人称贝思，十三 岁，肤色红润，秀发润泽，目如秋波。她举止腼腆，声音羞怯，神情宁静而深远，被父亲称 为"小宁静"，此名非她莫属，因为她似乎独个生活在自己的伊甸园中，只敢出来会会几个最 亲最信任的人。艾美虽然最小，却是个十分重要的人物。至少她自我感觉如此。她生得纤细 端庄，肌骨晶莹，一双蓝眼睛，金黄色的头发卷曲披落肩头，言谈举止十足一个讲究风度的 年轻女子。四姐妹的性格如何，我们后面分解。
时钟敲响六下，贝思已经扫干净壁炉地面，把一双便鞋放到上面烘干。看到这双旧鞋 子，姑娘们想起妈妈就要回家了，心情明朗起来，准备迎接妈妈。梅格停止了训导，点上了 灯。艾美不用人说，就离开了安乐椅。乔则坐起来把鞋子挪近火边，一时忘却了疲倦。
“鞋子太破旧了，妈咪得换双新的。”
“我想用自己的钱给她买一双，”贝思说。
“不，我来买！”艾美嚷道。
“我最大，”梅格刚开口，就被乔坚决地打断了- “爸爸不在家，我就是家里的男子汉 了，鞋子我来买。因为爸爸跟我说过，他不在家的时候要我好好照顾妈妈。”“依我说应该 这么着，”贝思说，”我们各自给妈妈送件圣诞礼物，我们自己什么都别要了。”“那才像 你！好妹妹，送什么好呢？”乔嚷道。
大家都认真想了一会，梅格似乎从自己漂亮的双手得到启发，宣布道：“我要给妈妈送 一双精致的手套。”“最好送双军鞋，”乔高声说道。
“我要送些镶边小手帕，”贝思说。
“我会送一小瓶古龙香水。因为妈妈喜欢，而且不用太花钱，我还可以省点钱给自己买 铅笔，”艾美接着说。
“我们怎么个送法呢？”梅格问。
“把礼物放在桌上，把妈妈带进来，让她在我们面前亲自拆开礼物。你忘记我们是怎样 过生日的吗？”乔回答。
“每当我坐在那张大椅子上，头戴花冠，看着你们一个个上前送上礼物，吻我一下时， 心里真是慌得很。我喜欢你们的礼物和亲吻，但要在众目睽睽之下把礼物拆开，我就吓得心 里直打鼓儿，”贝思说，边烘茶点，边取暖。
“先别告诉妈咪，让她以为我们是为自己准备的，给她一个惊喜。我们明天下午就得去 办货，梅格，圣诞夜的话剧还有许多事情要准备呐。”乔说话的时候倒背着手，仰着头，来 回踱步。
“演完这回，以后我就不演了。我年岁大，该退出了，”对"化装游戏"一直童心未泯的 梅格说。
“你不会停止的，我知道，只要你能够披下头发，戴上金纸做的珠宝，身披白长裙摇曳 而行，你就不会的。因为你是我们的最佳演员，如果你退出，那么一切都完了，”乔说，” 我们今晚应该排练一下。来，艾美，试演一下晕厥那一场，你演这幕时生硬得像根拨火 棍。”“有什么办法！我从来没见过人晕倒，我也不想像你一样直挺挺地摔倒，弄得自己青 一块紫一块的。如果我可以轻轻地倒在地上，我就倒下，否则，还不如体面地倒在椅子上。 即使雨果真的用枪指着我也是这句话，”艾美回答。她的表演天赋并不高，被选派这一角色 是因为她年纪小，碰上歹徒的尖叫声由她发出更可信。
“这样来：两手这样握着，摇摇晃晃地走过房间，发狂般地叫喊：'罗德力戈！救救 我！救救我！'"乔做示范，夸张地尖叫一声，令人毛骨悚然。
艾美跟着模仿，但她伸出的双手僵硬无比，发出的尖叫声与情景相差万里。她那一声" 啊！”不像是感到恐惧和极度痛苦，倒像是被针戳了一下。乔失望地叹了一声，梅格却放声 大笑，贝思看得有趣，把面包也烤糊了。
“不可救药！演出时尽力而为吧，如果观众笑你，别怪我。
来吧，梅格。”
接下来就顺利多了。唐·佩德罗一口气读下两页挑战世界的宣言；女巫黑格把满满一锅 蟾蜍放在火里炖，妖里妖气地给它们念一道可怕的咒语；罗德力戈力拔山河地扯断锁链，雨 果狂叫着"哈！哈！”在悔恨和砒霜的折磨下死去。
“这是做得最好的一次，”当"死去"的反角坐起来揉擦肘部时，梅格说。
“乔，你能写出这么好的剧本，而且演得这么出色，简直不可思议！你真是莎士比亚再 世！”贝思喊道。她坚信姐妹们才华横溢，无所不能。
“过奖了，”乔谦逊地回答，”《女巫的咒语，一个歌剧式的悲剧》是挺不错的，不过 我想演《麦克佩斯》，如果我们能给班柯一扇活地板门的话。我一直想演刺客这一角色。' 我眼前看到的是一把刀吗？'"乔轻声朗诵，像她所见过的一位著名悲剧演员一样，转动着眼 珠，两手抓向空中。
“错了，这是烧烤叉，你放上去的不是面包，而是妈妈的鞋。贝思看入迷了！“梅格叫 起来。众姐妹大笑不已，排练也随之结束。
“看到你们这么快活我真高兴，我的女儿们。”门口传来一串愉快的声音，这些演员和 观众转过身来，迎接一位高高个儿、充满母性的女士。她神情可亲、令人愉快。她的衣着虽 不华丽，但仪态高贵。在姐妹们心目中，这位身披灰色外套，头戴一顶过时无边小圆软帽的 女士是普天下最出色的母亲。
“小宝贝们，今天过得怎么样？我事情太多，要准备好明天就得发出的箱子，没能回家 吃饭。有人来过吗，贝思？你感冒好点没有，梅格？乔，你看上去累极了，来吻我吧，宝 贝。”马奇太太慈爱地一一询问，一面换去湿衣物，穿上暖和的拖鞋，坐在安乐椅中，把艾 美拉到膝边，准备享受繁忙的一天中最幸福的时光。姑娘们纷纷行动起来，各显身手，尽量 把一切都布置得舒适怡人。梅格摆茶桌，乔搬木柴并放椅子，却把柴丢落一地，把椅子也打 翻，弄得咔嗒直响，贝思在客厅和厨房之间匆匆来回穿梭，忙碌而安静，而艾美则袖手旁 观，发号施令。
大家都聚到桌边的时候，马奇太太说：“用饭后，我有好东西给你们。”她的脸上有一 种异乎寻常的快乐。
姐妹们脸上立即现出如阳光般灿烂的笑容。贝思顾不得手里拿着饼干，拍起了手掌，乔 把餐巾一抛，嚷道：“信！信！
爸爸万岁！”
“是的，一封令人愉快的长信。他一切都好，冬季也不会熬得很苦，我们不必担忧。他 祝我们圣诞快乐，事事如意，并特别问候你们这些姑娘们，”马奇太太边说边用手摸着衣 袋，似乎里头装着珍宝。
“快点吃饭！别停下来弯起你的小手指边吃边傻笑，艾美，”乔嚷道，她因为急不可耐 地要听信，被茶噎了一口，涂了奶油的面包也掉落到地毯上。
贝思不再吃了，她悄悄走到幽暗的屋角坐下，默默想着那即将到来的欢乐，直到大家吃 完。
“爸爸已超过征兵年龄，身体也不适宜当兵，我认为他去当随军牧师真是太好了，”梅 格热切地说。
“我真想当个鼓手，或者当个--什么来着？或者去当个护士，这样我就可以在他身边帮 忙，”乔大声说道，一边哼了一声。
“睡帐篷，吃不堪入口的食物，用大锡杯喝水，这一定十分难受，”艾美叹道。
“他什么时候回家，妈妈？”贝思声音微颤地问道。
“不出几个月，亲爱的，除非他病倒。他在部队一天就会尽忠职守一天。我们也不会要 求他提早一分钟回来。现在来读信吧！”她们都围近火边，妈妈坐在大椅子上，贝思坐在她 脚边，梅格和艾美一边一个靠在椅子扶手上，乔故意倚在背后，这样读到信中感人的地方时 别人也不会觉察到她表情的变化。
在那种艰难的日子里，信，尤其是父亲们写回家的信，往往都催人泪下。但这封信却极 少谈及受到的艰难险阻和压抑的乡愁，描述的都是些生动的军营生活、行军情况和部队新 闻，读了令人心情振奋，只是在信尾才展露出一颗深沉的慈父爱心以及渴望回家和妻女们团 聚的愿望。
“给她们献上我所有的爱和吻。告诉她们我天天想念她们，夜夜为她们祈祷，每时每刻 都从她们的爱中得到最大的安慰。要见到她们还要等上漫长的一年，但请提醒她们我可以在 等待中工作，不虚度这段难忘的日子。我知道她们会牢记我的话，做好孩子，忠实地做她们 该做的事，勇敢地生活、战斗，善于自我控制。等我重返家园的时候，我的四个小妇人一定 变得更可爱，更令我感到骄傲。”读到这段，每个人都抽泣鼻子，乔任由大滴大滴的泪珠从 鼻尖滚落下来，艾美顾不得一头鬈发会被弄乱，把脸埋在妈妈的肩头上，呜呜咽咽地说： “我是个自私的女孩！但我一定努力进取，不让爸爸失望。”“我们都会努力！”梅格哭着 说，”我太注重衣着打扮，而且讨厌工作，以后一定尽量改正。”“我会试着做个'小妇人 '，就像爸爸总爱这么叫我的那样，改掉粗野的脾气，做好自己的分内事，不再胡思乱想， “乔说，心里明白在家管好自己的脾气比在南方对付两个敌人还要艰难。
贝思没有言语，只是用深蓝色的军袜抹掉眼泪，拼命埋头编织。她不浪费点滴时间，而 是从身边的工作做起，并暗下决心，一定让爸爸回来欢聚的时候如愿以偿。
马奇太太用她愉悦的声音打破了乔说话之后的一阵沉默：“你们还记得演《天路历程》 的情形吗？那时候你们还都是些小东西。你们最喜欢我把布袋绑到你们背上做担子，再给你 们帽、棍子和纸卷，让你们从屋里走到地窖，也就是'毁灭城'，又再往上一直走到屋顶，在 那里你们可以得到许多好东西，这就是'天国'了。“那多好玩啊，特别是走过狮子群，大战 '地狱魔王'，路过'妖怪谷'时候！”乔说。
“我喜欢包袱掉下来滚落楼梯这个情节，”梅格说。
“我最喜欢的是我们走出来，上到平坦的屋顶，屋顶满是鲜花、乔木和美丽的东西，我 们站在那里，在阳光照耀下，放声欢歌，”贝思微微笑着说，好像又重新回到了那美好的时 刻。
“我不大记得了，只记得我挺害怕那个地窖和黑漆漆的入口，还有就是挺喜欢吃屋顶上 的蛋糕和牛奶。如果不是年龄太大，我倒挺想再演一回。”年仅十二但已显得成熟的艾美开 始谈论告别童真了。
“演这出戏永远没有年龄之分，亲爱的，事实上我们一直都在扮演，只是方式不同而 已。我们重担在肩，道路就在眼前，追求善美、追求幸福的愿望引导我们跨越无数艰难险 阻，最后踏入圣宁之地--真正的'天国'。来吧，往天国进发的小旅客们，再来一次吧。不是 做戏，而是真心真意地去做，看看爸爸回来时你们走了多远的路。”“真的吗，妈妈？我们 的重担在哪里？”缺乏想像力的年轻女士艾美问道。
“刚才你们各人都把自己的担子说了出来，只有贝思除外。恐怕她没有哩，”母亲答 道。
“有呵，我也有。锅、碗、瓶、盆，扫帚抹布，嫉妒有漂亮钢琴的女孩，害怕生人，这 些都是我的担子。”贝思的包袱如此有趣，大家直想笑，不过都没有笑出来，因为这样会大 大伤害她的自尊心。
“干这些有什么不好呢？”梅格沉思着说，”这其实就是追求善美，只是说法不同而 已，而这个故事可以启发我们，因为尽管我们都有追求善美之心，但因为做起来困难，我们 便又忘掉了，不去尽力而为。”“我们今晚本来处于'绝望的深渊'，妈妈像书中的'帮助'一 样来把我们拉了出去，我们应该像教徒一样有几本指导手册。这事怎么办好呢？”乔 问，为自己的想像力给沉闷的任务添加了几分浪漫色彩而自鸣得意。
“圣诞节一早看看你们的枕下，就会找到指导手册了，”马奇太太说。
罕娜嬷嬷收拾桌子时，大家开始讨论新计划，然后取出四个装活计的小篮子，姐妹们开 始飞针走线，为马奇太太缝制被单。针线活是个沉闷的活儿，不过今天晚上谁也没有抱怨。 她们采纳乔的建议，把长长的缝口分为四段，分别称为欧洲、亚洲、非洲和美洲。这样果然 缝得快多了。她们一边缝一边谈论针线穿越的不同国家，更觉进展神速。
九点钟的时候大家停下活儿，像平时那样先唱歌再去睡觉。家里有架老掉牙的钢琴，除 了贝思，大家都不大会弹。她轻轻触动泛黄的琴键，大家随着悠扬的琴声唱了起来。梅格的 嗓音像芦笛一样动听，她和母亲担任这支小演唱队的领唱。
艾美歌声清脆，如蟋蟀的鸣叫，乔则任由歌声在空中飘荡，总是在不适宜的时候冒出个 颤音或怪叫声来，把最深沉的曲调给糟蹋掉。打从牙牙学语的时候开始，她们就一直这样 唱：小星星，亮晶晶，如今这已成了家里的惯例，因为她们的母亲就是个天生的歌唱家。早 上听到的第一个声音就是她在屋子里走动时唱出的云雀般婉转的歌声，晚上，她那轻快的歌 声又成了一天的尾声。这支熟识的摇篮曲姑娘们百听不厌。
"Christmas won't be Christmas without any presents," grumbled Jo, lying on the rug.
"It's so dreadful to be poor!" sighed Meg, looking down at her old dress.
"I don't think it's fair for some girls to have plenty of pretty things, and other girls nothing at all," added little Amy, with an injured sniff.
"We've got Father and Mother, and each other," said Beth contentedly from her corner.
The four young faces on which the firelight shone brightened at the cheerful words, but darkened again as Jo said sadly, "We haven't got Father, and shall not have him for a long time." She didn't say "perhaps never," but each silently added it, thinking of Father far away, where the fighting was.
Nobody spoke for a minute; then Meg said in an altered tone, "You know the reason Mother proposed not having any presents this Christmas was because it is going to be a hard winter for everyone; and she thinks we ought not to spend money for pleasure, when our men are suffering so in the army. We can't do much, but we can make our little sacrifices, and ought to do it gladly. But I am afraid I don't," and Meg shook her head, as she thought regretfully of all the pretty things she wanted.
"But I don't think the little we should spend would do any good. We've each got a dollar, and the army wouldn't be much helped by our giving that. I agree not to expect anything from Mother or you, but I do want to buy _Undine and Sintran_ for myself. I've wanted it so long," said Jo, who was a bookworm.
"I planned to spend mine in new music," said Beth, with a little sigh, which no one heard but the hearth brush and kettle-holder.
"I shall get a nice box of Faber's drawing pencils; I really need them," said Amy decidedly.
"Mother didn't say anything about our money, and she won't wish us to give up everything. Let's each buy what we want, and have a little fun; I'm sure we work hard enough to earn it," cried Jo, examining the heels of her shoes in a gentlemanly manner.
"I know I do--teaching those tiresome children nearly all day, when I'm longing to enjoy myself at home," began Meg, in the complaining tone again.
"You don't have half such a hard time as I do," said Jo. "How would you like to be shut up for hours with a nervous, fussy old lady, who keeps you trotting, is never satisfied, and worries you till you're ready to fly out the window or cry?"
"It's naughty to fret, but I do think washing dishes and keeping things tidy is the worst work in the world. It makes me cross, and my hands get so stiff, I can't practice well at all." And Beth looked at her rough hands with a sigh that any one could hear that time.
"I don't believe any of you suffer as I do," cried Amy, "for you don't have to go to school with impertinent girls, who plague you if you don't know your lessons, and laugh at your dresses, and label your father if he isn't rich, and insult you when your nose isn't nice."
"If you mean libel, I'd say so, and not talk about labels, as if Papa was a pickle bottle," advised Jo, laughing.
"I know what I mean, and you needn't be statirical about it. It's proper to use good words, and improve your vocabilary," returned Amy, with dignity.
"Don't peck at one another, children. Don't you wish we had the money Papa lost when we were little, Jo? Dear me! How happy and good we'd be, if we had no worries!" said Meg, who could remember better times.
"You said the other day you thought we were a deal happier than the King children, for they were fighting and fretting all the time, in spite of their money."
"So I did, Beth. Well, I think we are. For though we do have to work, we make fun of ourselves, and are a pretty jolly set, as Jo would say."
"Jo does use such slang words!" observed Amy, with a reproving look at the long figure stretched on the rug.
Jo immediately sat up, put her hands in her pockets, and began to whistle.
"Don't, Jo. It's so boyish!"
"That's why I do it."
"I detest rude, unladylike girls!"
"I hate affected, niminy-piminy chits!"
"Birds in their little nests agree," sang Beth, the peacemaker, with such a funny face that both sharp voices softened to a laugh, and the "pecking" ended for that time.
"Really, girls, you are both to be blamed," said Meg, beginning to lecture in her elder-sisterly fashion. "You are old enough to leave off boyish tricks, and to behave better, Josephine. It didn't matter so much when you were a little girl, but now you are so tall, and turn up your hair, you should remember that you are a young lady."
"I'm not! And if turning up my hair makes me one, I'll wear it in two tails till I'm twenty," cried Jo, pulling off her net, and shaking down a chestnut mane. "I hate to think I've got to grow up, and be Miss March, and wear long gowns, and look as prim as a China Aster! It's bad enough to be a girl, anyway, when I like boy's games and work and manners! I can't get over my disappointment in not being a boy. And it's worse than ever now, for I'm dying to go and fight with Papa. And I can only stay home and knit, like a poky old woman!"
And Jo shook the blue army sock till the needles rattled like castanets, and her ball bounded across the room.
"Poor Jo! It's too bad, but it can't be helped. So you must try to be contented with making your name boyish, and playing brother to us girls," said Beth, stroking the rough head with a hand that all the dish washing and dusting in the world could not make ungentle in its touch.
"As for you, Amy," continued Meg, "you are altogether to particular and prim. Your airs are funny now, but you'll grow up an affected little goose, if you don't take care. I like your nice manners and refined ways of speaking, when you don't try to be elegant. But your absurd words are as bad as Jo's slang."
"If Jo is a tomboy and Amy a goose, what am I, please?" asked Beth, ready to share the lecture.
"You're a dear, and nothing else," answered Meg warmly, and no one contradicted her, for the 'Mouse' was the pet of the family.
As young readers like to know 'how people look', we will take this moment to give them a little sketch of the four sisters, who sat knitting away in the twilight, while the December snow fell quietly without, and the fire crackled cheerfully within. It was a comfortable room, though the carpet was faded and the furniture very plain, for a good picture or two hung on the walls, books filled the recesses, chrysanthemums and Christmas roses bloomed in the windows, and a pleasant atmosphere of home peace pervaded it.
Margaret, the eldest of the four, was sixteen, and very pretty, being plump and fair, with large eyes, plenty of soft brown hair, a sweet mouth, and white hands, of which she was rather vain. Fifteen- year-old Jo was very tall, thin, and brown, and reminded one of a colt, for she never seemed to know what to do with her long limbs, which were very much in her way. She had a decided mouth, a comical nose, and sharp, gray eyes, which appeared to see everything, and were by turns fierce, funny, or thoughtful. Her long, thick hair was her one beauty, but it was usually bundled into a net, to be out of her way. Round shoulders had Jo, big hands and feet, a flyaway look to her clothes, and the uncomfortable appearance of a girl who was rapidly shooting up into a woman and didn't like it. Elizabeth, or Beth, as everyone called her, was a rosy, smooth- haired, bright-eyed girl of thirteen, with a shy manner, a timid voice, and a peaceful expression which was seldom disturbed. Her father called her 'Little Miss Tranquility', and the name suited her excellently, for she seemed to live in a happy world of her own, only venturing out to meet the few whom she trusted and loved. Amy, though the youngest, was a most important person, in her own opinion at least. A regular snow maiden, with blue eyes, and yellow hair curling on her shoulders, pale and slender, and always carrying herself like a young lady mindful of her manners. What the characters of the four sisters were we will leave to be found out.
The clock struck six and, having swept up the hearth, Beth put a pair of slippers down to warm. Somehow the sight of the old shoes had a good effect upon the girls, for Mother was coming, and everyone brightened to welcome her. Meg stopped lecturing, and lighted the lamp, Amy got out of the easy chair without being asked, and Jo forgot how tired she was as she sat up to hold the slippers nearer to the blaze.
"They are quite worn out. Marmee must have a new pair."
"I thought I'd get her some with my dollar," said Beth.
"No, I shall!" cried Amy.
"I'm the oldest," began Meg, but Jo cut in with a decided, "I'm the man of the family now Papa is away, and I shall provide the slippers, for he told me to take special care of Mother while he was gone."
"I'll tell you what we'll do," said Beth, "let's each get her something for Christmas, and not get anything for ourselves."
"That's like you, dear! What will we get?" exclaimed Jo.
Everyone thought soberly for a minute, then Meg announced, as if the idea was suggested by the sight of her own pretty hands, "I shall give her a nice pair of gloves."
"Army shoes, best to be had," cried Jo.
"Some handkerchiefs, all hemmed," said Beth.
"I'll get a little bottle of cologne. She likes it, and it won't cost much, so I'll have some left to buy my pencils," added Amy.
"How will we give the things?" asked Meg.
"Put them on the table, and bring her in and see her open the bundles. Don't you remember how we used to do on our birthdays?" answered Jo.
"I used to be so frightened when it was my turn to sit in the chair with the crown on, and see you all come marching round to give the presents, with a kiss. I liked the things and the kisses, but it was dreadful to have you sit looking at me while I opened the bundles," said Beth, who was toasting her face and the bread for tea at the same time.
"Let Marmee think we are getting things for ourselves, and then surprise her. We must go shopping tomorrow afternoon, Meg. There is so much to do about the play for Christmas night," said Jo, marching up and down, with her hands behind her back, and her nose in the air.
"I don't mean to act any more after this time. I'm getting too old for such things," observed Meg, who was as much a child as ever about 'dressing-up' frolics.
"You won't stop, I know, as long as you can trail round in a white gown with your hair down, and wear gold-paper jewelry. You are the best actress we've got, and there'll be an end of everything if you quit the boards," said Jo. "We ought to rehearse tonight. Come here, Amy, and do the fainting scene, for you are as stiff as a poker in that."
"I can't help it. I never saw anyone faint, and I don't choose to make myself all black and blue, tumbling flat as you do. If I can go down easily, I'll drop. If I can't, I shall fall into a chair and be graceful. I don't care if Hugo does come at me with a pistol," returned Amy, who was not gifted with dramatic power, but was chosen because she was small enough to be borne out shrieking by the villain of the piece.
"Do it this way. Clasp your hands so, and stagger across the room, crying frantically, 'Roderigo! Save me! Save me!'" and away went Jo, with a melodramatic scream which was truly thrilling.
Amy followed, but she poked her hands out stiffly before her, and jerked herself along as if she went by machinery, and her "Ow!" was more suggestive of pins being run into her than of fear and anguish. Jo gave a despairing groan, and Meg laughed outright, while Beth let her bread burn as she watched the fun with interest. "It's no use! Do the best you can when the time comes, and if the audience laughs, don't blame me. Come on, Meg."
Then things went smoothly, for Don Pedro defied the world in a speech of two pages without a single break. Hagar, the witch, chanted an awful incantation over her kettleful of simmering toads, with weird effect. Roderigo rent his chains asunder manfully, and Hugo died in agonies of remorse and arsenic, with a wild, "Ha! Ha!"
"It's the best we've had yet," said Meg, as the dead villain sat up and rubbed his elbows.
"I don't see how you can write and act such splendid things, Jo. You're a regular Shakespeare!" exclaimed Beth, who firmly believed that her sisters were gifted with wonderful genius in all things.
"Not quite," replied Jo modestly. "I do think _The Witches Curse, an Operatic Tragedy_ is rather a nice thing, but I'd like to try _Macbeth_, if we only had a trapdoor for Banquo. I always wanted to do the killing part. 'Is that a dagger that I see before me?" muttered Jo, rolling her eyes and clutching at the air, as she had seen a famous tragedian do.
"No, it's the toasting fork, with Mother's shoe on it instead of the bread. Beth's stage-struck!" cried Meg, and the rehearsal ended in a general burst of laughter.
"Glad to find you so merry, my girls," said a cheery voice at the door, and actors and audience turned to welcome a tall, motherly lady with a 'can I help you' look about her which was truly delightful. She was not elegantly dressed, but a noble-looking woman, and the girls thought the gray cloak and unfashionable bonnet covered the most splendid mother in the world.
"Well, dearies, how have you got on today? There was so much to do, getting the boxes ready to go tomorrow, that I didn't come home to dinner. Has anyone called, Beth? How is your cold, Meg? Jo, you look tired to death. Come and kiss me, baby."
While making these maternal inquiries Mrs. March got her wet things off, her warm slippers on, and sitting down in the easy chair, drew Amy to her lap, preparing to enjoy the happiest hour of her busy day. The girls flew about, trying to make things comfortable, each in her own way. Meg arranged the tea table, Jo brought wood and set chairs, dropping, over-turning, and clattering everything she touched. Beth trotted to and fro between parlor kitchen, quiet and busy, while Amy gave directions to everyone, as she sat with her hands folded.
As they gathered about the table, Mrs. March said, with a particularly happy face, "I've got a treat for you after supper."
A quick, bright smile went round like a streak of sunshine. Beth clapped her hands, regardless of the biscuit she held, and Jo tossed up her napkin, crying, "A letter! A letter! Three cheers for Father!"
"Yes, a nice long letter. He is well, and thinks he shall get through the cold season better than we feared. He sends all sorts of loving wishes for Christmas, and an especial message to you girls," said Mrs. March, patting her pocket as if she had got a treasure there.
"Hurry and get done! Don't stop to quirk your little finger and simper over your plate, Amy," cried Jo, choking on her tea and dropping her bread, butter side down, on the carpet in her haste to get at the treat.
Beth ate no more, but crept away to sit in her shadowy corner and brood over the delight to come, till the others were ready.
"I think it was so splendid in Father to go as chaplain when he was too old to be drafted, and not strong enough for a soldier," said Meg warmly.
"Don't I wish I could go as a drummer, a vivan--what's its name? Or a nurse, so I could be near him and help him," exclaimed Jo, with a groan.
"It must be very disagreeable to sleep in a tent, and eat all sorts of bad-tasting things, and drink out of a tin mug," sighed Amy.
"When will he come home, Marmee?" asked Beth, with a little quiver in her voice.
"Not for many months, dear, unless he is sick. He will stay and do his work faithfully as long as he can, and we won't ask for him back a minute sooner than he can be spared. Now come and hear the letter."
They all drew to the fire, Mother in the big chair with Beth at her feet, Meg and Amy perched on either arm of the chair, and Jo leaning on the back, where no one would see any sign of emotion if the letter should happen to be touching. Very few letters were written in those hard times that were not touching, especially those which fathers sent home. In this one little was said of the hardships endured, the dangers faced, or the homesickness conquered. It was a cheerful, hopeful letter, full of lively descriptions of camp life, marches, and military news, and only at the end did the writer's heart over-flow with fatherly love and longing for the little girls at home.
"Give them all of my dear love and a kiss. Tell them I think of them by day, pray for them by night, and find my best comfort in their affection at all times. A year seems very long to wait before I see them, but remind them that while we wait we may all work, so that these hard days need not be wasted. I know they will remember all I said to them, that they will be loving children to you, will do their duty faithfully, fight their bosom enemies bravely, and conquer themselves so beautifully that when I come back to them I may be fonder and prouder than ever of my little women." Everybody sniffed when they came to that part. Jo wasn't ashamed of the great tear that dropped off the end of her nose, and Amy never minded the rumpling of her curls as she hid her face on her mother's shoulder and sobbed out, "I am a selfish girl! But I'll truly try to be better, so he mayn't be disappointed in me by-and-by."
"We all will," cried Meg. "I think too much of my looks and hate to work, but won't any more, if I can help it."
"I'll try and be what he loves to call me, 'a little woman' and not be rough and wild, but do my duty here instead of wanting to be somewhere else," said Jo, thinking that keeping her temper at home was a much harder task than facing a rebel or two down South.
Beth said nothing, but wiped away her tears with the blue army sock and began to knit with all her might, losing no time in doing the duty that lay nearest her, while she resolved in her quiet little soul to be all that Father hoped to find her when the year brought round the happy coming home.
Mrs. March broke the silence that followed Jo's words, by saying in her cheery voice, "Do you remember how you used to play Pilgrims Progress when you were little things? Nothing delighted you more than to have me tie my piece bags on your backs for burdens, give you hats and sticks and rolls of paper, and let you travel through the house from the cellar, which was the City of Destruction, up, up, to the housetop, where you had all the lovely things you could collect to make a Celestial City."
"What fun it was, especially going by the lions, fighting Apollyon, and passing through the valley where the hob-goblins were," said Jo.
"I liked the place where the bundles fell off and tumbled downstairs," said Meg.
"I don't remember much about it, except that I was afraid of the cellar and the dark entry, and always liked the cake and milk we had up at the top. If I wasn't too old for such things, I'd rather like to play it over again," said Amy, who began to talk of renouncing childish things at the mature age of twelve.
"We never are too old for this, my dear, because it is a play we are playing all the time in one way or another. Our burdens are here, our road is before us, and the longing for goodness and happiness is the guide that leads us through many troubles and mistakes to the peace which is a true Celestial City. Now, my little pilgrims, suppose you begin again, not in play, but in earnest, and see how far on you can get before Father comes home."
"Really, Mother? Where are our bundles?" asked Amy, who was a very literal young lady.
"Each of you told what your burden was just now, except Beth. I rather think she hasn't got any," said her mother.
"Yes, I have. Mine is dishes and dusters, and envying girls with nice pianos, and being afraid of people."
Beth's bundle was such a funny one that everybody wanted to laugh, but nobody did, for it would have hurt her feelings very much.
"Let us do it," said Meg thoughtfully. "It is only another name for trying to be good, and the story may help us, for though we do want to be good, it's hard work and we forget, and don't do our best."
"We were in the Slough of Despond tonight, and Mother came and pulled us out as Help did in the book. We ought to have our roll of directions, like Christian. What shall we do about that?" asked Jo, delighted with the fancy which lent a little romance to the very dull task of doing her duty.
"Look under your pillows Christmas morning, and you will find your guidebook," replied Mrs. March.
They talked over the new plan while old Hannah cleared the table, then out came the four little work baskets, and the needles flew as the girls made sheets for Aunt March. It was uninteresting sewing, but tonight no one grumbled. They adopted Jo's plan of dividing the long seams into four parts, and calling the quarters Europe, Asia, Africa, and America, and in that way got on capitally, especially when they talked about the different countries as they stitched their way through them.
At nine they stopped work, and sang, as usual, before they went to bed. No one but Beth could get much music out of the old piano, but she had a way of softly touching the yellow keys and making a pleasant accompaniment to the simple songs they sang. Meg had a voice like a flute, and she and her mother led the little choir. Amy chirped like a cricket, and Jo wandered through the airs at her own sweet will, always coming out at the wrong place with a croak or a quaver that spoiled the most pensive tune. They had always done this from the time they could lisp . . .
Crinkle, crinkle, 'ittle 'tar,
and it had become a household custom, for the mother was a born singer. The first sound in the morning was her voice as she went about the house singing like a lark, and the last sound at night was the same cheery sound, for the girls never grew too old for that familiar lullaby.
圣诞节一早，天刚蒙蒙亮，乔便第一个醒来。她看到壁炉边没有挂着袜子，一时深感失 望。多年前，她的小袜子因为糖果塞得太满而掉落地上，她也曾这样失望过。稍后她想起母 亲的诺言，便悄悄把手伸到枕头下面，果然摸出一本菲红色封面的书。她十分熟悉这本书， 因为它记载的是历史上最优秀的人物的经典故事。乔觉得这正是一切踏上漫长征途的朝圣者 所需要的指导书。她一声"圣诞快乐“把梅格叫醒，叫她看看枕头下面有什么。梅格掏出一 本绿色封面、带有相同插图的书，妈妈在上面题了词，使这件礼物倍添珍贵。不一会，贝思 和艾美也醒来了，翻寻到各自的小书--一本乳白色，另一本蓝色 -四姐妹于是坐着边看边讨 论，不觉东方已泛起红霞，新的一天又告开始。
玛格丽特虽然有点爱慕虚荣，但她天性温柔善良，颇得姐妹们敬重，特别是乔，更是深 深地爱着自己的姐姐，并对她言听计从，因为她无论说什么都总是轻声细语的。
“姑娘们，”梅格严肃地说，看看身边头发蓬乱的一位，又看看房间另一头戴着睡帽的 两个小脑袋，”妈妈希望我们爱惜这些书，读好这些书，我们应该立即行动。虽然我们以前 做得挺认真，但自从爸爸离家后，战乱七繁，我们忽略了许多事。你们爱怎样我不管，但我 要把书放在这张桌上，每天早上一醒来就读一点，因为我知道，这样会有好处，它将伴我度 过每一天。”说完她打开新书读了起来，乔用胳膊拥着她，与她并肩而读，不安分的脸上露 出少见的宁静。
“梅格真好！来，艾美，我们也一起读吧。我帮你解释生词，我们不懂的地方就由她们 来讲解好了，”贝思轻声说。她被漂亮的小书和两位姐姐全神贯注的模样深深感动了。
“真开心，我的封面是蓝色的，”艾美说。接下来除了轻轻的翻书声外，屋里一片宁 静。这时，冬日的阳光悄悄潜入屋内，轻柔地抚摸着她们亮丽的头发和严肃的脸庞，向她们 致以圣诞节的问候。
“妈妈哪儿去了？”半个小时后，梅格和乔跑下楼，要找妈妈道谢。
“老天才知道。一些穷人来讨东西，你妈马上就去看他们需要什么。她是天底下最菩萨 心肠的女人，”罕娜答道。老嬷嬷自打梅格出生以来就一直和她们一家生活在一起，尽管她 是个佣人，大家都拿当朋友。
“我想她很快就会回来，你先煎饼，把东西准备好，”梅格一边说一边把装在篮子里的 礼物又看了一遍。礼物藏在沙发下面，准备在适当的时候拿出来。”咦，艾美的那瓶古龙水 呢？”她接着又问，因为篮子里没有那个小瓶子。
“她刚刚把它拿走了，要系根丝带或者什么小玩意儿，”乔答道。她正在屋子里蹦来蹦 去，要把硬邦邦的军鞋穿软和。
“我的手帕漂亮极了，对吧？罕娜把它们洗得干干净净，还熨过了，上面的字都是我亲 手绣的，”贝思说着，骄傲地看着那些她费了许多工夫绣成但又不太工整的字体。
“哎呀！她把'马奇太太'绣成'妈妈'了，真有趣！”乔拿起一条手帕嚷道。
“这样不行吗？我原以为这样会更好，因为梅格的首写字母也是Ｍ．Ｍ．，而这些手帕 我只想让妈妈用。”贝思的神情显得有点不安。
“这样挺好，亲爱的，而且主意不错--相当有理哩，因为这样就不会弄错了。妈妈一定 会很高兴的，”梅格说着，对乔皱皱眉，又向贝思一笑。
“妈妈回来了，藏好篮子，快！”乔立即叫起来。门呯地一响，大厅传来了脚步声。
艾美急匆匆地走进来，看到姐姐们都在等她，显得有点不好意思。
“你到哪儿去了，藏在后面的是什么？”梅格问。看到艾美穿戴整齐，她不由诧异这小 懒虫竟然这么早就出去了！
“别笑我，乔！我并不是有意要瞒着你们，我只是花掉全部的钱把小瓶的古龙水换成大 瓶的，我真的不想再那么自私了。”艾美一边说一边给大家看她用原先的便宜货换回来的大 瓶古龙水。她努力克服私利，显得诚恳而谦恭，梅格一把抱住了她，乔宣布她是个"大好人"， 贝思则跑到窗边摘下一朵美丽的玫瑰花来装饰这个漂亮的大瓶子。
“你们知道，今天早上大家一起读书，又谈到要做好孩子，我为自己的礼物感到羞愧， 所以起床后马上跑到附近把它换过来，我真高兴，因为我的礼物现在成了最漂亮的啦。”临 街的大门又响了一下，篮子再次藏到沙发下面，姑娘们围坐在桌子边，等着吃早餐。
“圣诞快乐，妈咪！谢谢你送给我们的书。我们读了一点，以后每天都要读，“姐妹们 齐声喊道。
“圣诞快乐，小姑娘们！真高兴你们马上就开始学习，可要坚持下去埃不过坐下之前我 想说几句话。离这儿不远的地方，躺着一个可怜的妇人和一个刚生下来的婴儿。六个孩子为 了不被冻僵挤在一张床上，因为他们没有火取暖。那里没有吃的，最大的孩子来告诉我他们 又冷又饿。姑娘们，你们愿意把早餐送给他们做圣诞礼物吗？”她们刚才等了差不多一个小 时，现在正饿得慌，有一阵子大家都默不作声- 就那么一阵子，只听乔冲口而出道：“我真 高兴，早餐还没开始呢！”“我帮着把东西拿给那些可怜的孩子好吗？”贝思热切地问道。
“我来拿奶油和松饼，”艾美接着说，英雄似地放弃了自己最喜欢吃的东西。
梅格已动手把荞麦盖上，把面包堆放到一个大盘子里。
“我早料到你们会这样做，”马奇太太舒心地微笑道，”你们都去帮我，回来后早餐吃 点牛奶面包，到正餐的时候再补回来。”大家很快准备妥当，队伍出发了。幸亏时候尚早， 她们又打后街穿过，没几个人看到她们，也没人取笑这支奇怪的队伍。
这是一个满目凄凉的贫贱之家，四壁萧然，门窗破败，屋里没有炉火，床上被褥褴褛， 病弱的母亲抱着啼哭的婴儿，一群面黄肌瘦、饥肠辘辘的孩子披着一张破被缩成一团。
看见姑娘们走进来，他们惊喜得瞪大眼睛，咧开冻得发紫的嘴唇笑了起来！
“哎呀，老天爷，善良的天使看我们来了！”那个可怜的女人欢喜得叫起来。
“是戴帽子手套的趣怪天使，”乔说道，逗得他们都笑起来。
这情景真让人以为是好心的神灵在显圣呢。罕娜用带来的木柴生起炉火，又用一些旧帽 子和自己的斗篷挡住破烂的玻璃窗。马奇太太一边为做母亲的端茶递粥，一边安慰她，让她 宽心，又像对待自己的亲生骨肉一样轻柔地为小宝宝穿上衣服。姑娘们摆好桌子，把孩子们 安顿到火炉边，像喂一群饥饿的小鸟一样喂他们，并跟他们说笑，尽力想听明白他们有趣而 又蹩脚的英语。
“真系（是）好！”“这些天使好心人！”这班可怜的孩子边吃边把发紫的小手伸到温 暖的火炉边暖和着。
姑娘们还是第一次被人称作小天使，觉得非常惬意，尤其是乔，她自打娘胎生下来就被 大家当作"桑丘"，因此更加得意。虽然她们没有吃上一口早餐，心里却感到无比的舒畅。当 这四个饥肠辘辘的小姑娘把温暖留给别人，走在回家的路上时，我想合城里再没人能比她们 更幸福了。她们在圣诞节早上把最好的早餐送给穷人，自己却宁愿吃面包和牛奶。
“这就是所谓爱别人胜于爱自己，我喜欢这样，”梅格说。
她们趁母亲上楼为贫穷的赫梅尔一家收集衣物时把礼物摆了出来。
这些小礼物并不贵重，但都经过精心的包装，从中可见一片深情。一只高高的花瓶立在 桌子中间，里头插着红色的玫瑰和白色的菊花，衬着几缕垂蔓，平添一份雅致。
“她来了！开始演奏，贝思！开门，艾美！为妈妈欢呼三声！”乔欢跃着大声喊叫，梅 格则上前去把妈妈接到贵宾席位。
贝思弹起欢快的进行曲，艾美拉开门，梅格俨然是一个护花使者。马奇太太既惊讶又感 动，她含笑端详着她的礼物，读着附在上面的小字条，不由眼中噙满泪水地笑了。她当即穿 上便鞋，又把一条散发着古龙水香味的手帕放入衣袋，然后她把那朵玫瑰花别在胸前，又称 赞别致的手套"绝对合适"。
大家笑着、吻着、解释着，这种简单而又充满爱意的方式增添了家里的节日气氛，其温 馨让人永久难忘。然后，大家又投入了工作。
早上的慈善活动和庆典花了不少时间，余下的时间便用来准备晚上的欢庆活动。由于年 龄太小，不宜经常上戏院，又因为经济拮据，支付不起业余表演的大笔费用，姑娘们于是充 分发挥才智--需要是发明之母 -需要什么，她们便做什么。她们的创造品有些还挺见心机- 用纸板做的吉它，用旧式牛油瓶裹上锡纸做成的古灯，用旧棉布做的鲜艳夺目的长袍，面上 亮晶晶地镶着从一家腌菜厂拿来的小锡片，还有镶有同样的钻石形小锡片的盔甲，这些被派 上用场的小锡片是腌菜厂做罐头剩下的边角料。屋子里的家具常常被弄得乱七八糟，大房间 就是舞台，姑娘们在台上天真无邪地尽兴表演。
由于不收男士，乔便尽情地扮演男角。她对一双黄褐色的长统皮靴尤为满意。因为靴子 是她的一个朋友赠送的，这位朋友认识一位女士，女士又认识一位演员。这双靴子、一把旧 钝头剑，还有某个艺术家用来画过几幅画的开衩背心，这些便是乔的主要宝藏，任何场合都 得登台亮相。因为剧团小，两个主要演员必须分别扮演几个角色。她们同时学习三四个不同 角色的表演，飞快地轮番换上各式各样的戏服，同时还要兼顾幕后工作，其努力精神值得称 道。这种有益的娱乐活动可以很好地锻炼她们的记忆力，并可以打发闲暇，排遣寂寞，减少 无聊的社交。
圣诞之夜，十二个女孩子挤在花楼 -一张床— 的上头，坐在黄蓝二色混合的磨光印花 帘幕前面，翘首以盼，焦急地等着看戏。幕后灯光朦胧，不时传来沙沙的响声和悄悄的话语 声，偶尔还传来容易激动的艾美在兴奋之中发出的咯咯笑声。不一会铃声响起，帘幕拉开， 《歌剧式的悲剧》开始了。
几株盆栽灌木、铺在地板上的绿色厚毛呢，以及远处的一个洞穴构成了节目单上的"阴 森森的树林"，洞穴用晒衣架做洞顶，衣柜做墙壁，里头有一个熊熊燃烧着的小炉子，一个 老巫婆正俯身把弄炉上的一个黑锅。舞台阴森黑暗，熊熊的炉火营造了良好的舞台效果。女 巫揭开锅盖，锅里冒出阵阵蒸气，令人叫绝。第一阵过后，歹徒雨果阔步上常他嘴上蓄 着黑胡子，头上歪戴着一顶帽子，脚踏长靴，身披神秘外衣，腰间佩一把当啷作响的宝剑。 他焦躁不安地来回走了几步，猛然一拍额头，放声高歌，唱他对罗德力戈的恨、对萨拉的 爱，以及要杀掉仇人、赢得莎拉的心愿。雨果粗哑的嗓音和感情暴发时偶然发出的一声大喝 给观众留下极其深刻的印象，他刚停下要歇口气，大家便报以热烈的掌声。他习以为常地躬 身谢过，又轻轻走到洞穴，大模大样地命黑格出来：“呔！奴才！出来！”梅格出来，脸上 挂着灰色马鬃，身穿黑红二色长袍，手持拐杖，大衣上画着神秘符号。雨果向他索取两种魔 药，一种可以使莎拉爱他，另一种用来毒死罗德力戈。黑格唱起优美的歌儿，答应把两种魔 药都给他，接着他把送魔药的小精灵叫出来。戏文唱道：来吧、来吧，空中的小精灵。
我令你从家里过来！
你玫瑰生成，雨露裹腹，
可知道怎样调制魔药？
快速速给我送来，
我要的芳馥药儿，
要调得既浓又甜，药力神速，
快回答我吧，小精灵！
音乐轻柔地奏起来，接着洞穴后面现出一个小身影：金色的头发，一身乳白色的衣裳， 两个翅膀闪闪发亮，头上戴着玫瑰花环。它挥舞魔杖唱道：来了，我来了，从我虚无缥渺的 家园，那遥远的银色的月亮。
把魔药拿去，
并用在适当的地方，
不然它的魔力就会很快失去！
小精灵把一个金闪闪的小瓶子扔到女巫脚下，随之消失。黑格再次施用魔法唤来另一个 幽灵。只听呯的一声，一个丑陋的黑色小魔鬼出来。它用阴森森的声音作了回答，然后把一 个黑色瓶子扔向雨果，冷笑一声，消失得无影无踪。雨果用颤抖的嗓音道过谢，把两瓶魔药 放进靴子里，转身离去。黑格告诉观众，因为雨果以前曾杀死过她的几个朋友，她给他下了 魔咒，准备挫败他的计划，向他复仇。接着帘幕落下，观众们一边休息和吃糖，一边评长论 短。
帘幕迟迟没有拉开，里头传来好一阵锤打声。不过当舞台布景终于出现在眼前时，观众 们谁都顾不得抱怨刚才耽误了时间，因为布景实在太美了，简直是巧夺天工！只见一座塔楼 耸入屋顶，塔楼半空露出一扇亮着灯光的窗户，白色的帘幕后面莎拉身穿一套漂亮的银蓝二 色裙子在等待罗德力戈。罗德力戈盛装走进。他一头栗色鬈发，戴一顶插着羽毛的帽子，身 披红色外衣，手拿吉它，脚踏长靴。当然啦，他跪在塔下，柔情万分地唱起一支小夜曲。莎 拉回答他，用歌声对了几句话后，同意私奔。接下来是话剧的大场面。罗德力戈拿出一张有 五个梯级的草绳软梯，把一端抛上去，请莎拉下来。莎拉含羞从花窗格子爬下来，手扶罗德 力戈的肩头，正要优雅地往下跳，突然观众叫起来：“哎呀！哎呀！莎拉！”原来一不留 神，她的长裙被窗户绊住了。塔楼摇晃着向前倾斜，轰的一声倒下，把这对倒霉的恋人埋在 废墟里！
众人尖声大叫，只见黄褐色皮靴伸出废墟使劲乱摇，一个金发脑袋探出来叫道：“我早 就告诉过你会这样！我早就告诉过你会这样！”那位冷酷的父亲唐·佩德罗头脑极为冷静， 他冲进去拖出自己的女儿，一把拉向身边。
“别笑！继续演，就当什么也没发生过！”他命令罗德力戈站起来，盛怒而轻蔑地将他 驱逐出去。虽然被倒下的塔楼砸得不轻，罗德力戈并没有忘掉自己的角色，他不理睬这位老 绅士，就是不动身子。这种大无畏的精神启发了莎拉；她也不理睬父亲。唐·佩得罗于是命 令两人一起下到城堡最低层的地牢里。一位稍胖的小侍从手持锁链走进来，神色慌张地把他 们带走，显然是把讲的台词忘掉了。
第三幕是城堡的大厅，黑格在此出现，准备解救这对恋人并解决雨果。她听到雨果走进 来便藏起来，看他把魔药倒进两个酒杯，又听他吩咐那位腼腆的小侍从：“把酒带给地牢里 的囚徒，告诉他们我一会就来。”小侍从把雨果带到一边说了几句话，黑格随即把两杯药酒 换成两杯没有药性的。”奴才"费迪南多把酒带走了，黑格把原来要给罗德力戈的那杯毒酒 放回去。雨果唱完一支冗长的歌后感到口渴，便喝下那杯毒酒，顿时失去神智，拼命挣扎一 番后，挺直身子倒地而死。这时黑格用热烈而优美的曲调唱了一首歌，说明自己刚才使了什 么手段。
这真是震撼人心的一幕，虽然有些人或许认为突然跌落的一把长发使歹徒之死显得有些 失色。歹徒应观众的要求彬彬有礼地领着黑格走到幕前谢幕。黑格的歌声被认为是全场戏的 问鼎之作。
第四幕大家看到罗德力戈听说莎拉离弃了他，万分绝望，准备自杀。他刚刚把剑对准心 脏，突然听到窗下传来优美的歌声，告诉他莎拉没有变心，但身处险境，如果他愿意可以把 她救出来。接着外面扔进一把钥匙。把门锁打开后，他狂喜地挫断锁链冲出门外，去营救心 爱的姑娘。
第五幕开场时，莎拉和唐·佩得罗正闹得不可开交。唐·佩得罗要她进修道院，她坚决 不从，并伤心欲绝地求他开恩，正要晕倒时，罗德力戈闯入并向她求婚。唐·佩德罗不答 应，因为他没有钱。两人大吵大闹一番，依然互不相让。罗德力戈正要把筋疲力尽的莎拉背 走，羞怯的小侍从拿着黑格交给她的一封信和一个布袋走进来，黑格此时已神秘地消失。
这封信告诉大家她把一大笔财富赠给这对年轻人，如果唐·佩得罗破坏他们的幸福，必 遭厄运。接着布袋打开了，大把大把的锡币洒落下来，堆在台上闪闪发亮，极为壮观。”狠 心的父亲"这才软下心肠，一声不响地表示同意。众人于是齐声欢唱，一双恋人以极为优雅 浪漫的姿态跪下，接受唐·佩德罗的祝福，帘幕随之降下。
接下来响起了热烈的掌声，正当此时，那座用作花楼的帆布床突然折拢，把热情洋溢的 观众压倒。罗德力戈和唐·佩德罗飞身前来抢救，众人虽然毫发无损，但全都笑得说不出话 来。大家刚刚恢复神态，罕娜进来说：“马奇太太致以祝贺，并请女士们下来用餐。”大家 一阵惊喜，连演员亦不例外。看到桌子上摆着的东西，她们高兴得互相对望，同时都感到十 分奇怪。妈妈平时也会弄点吃的款待她们，不过自从告别了宽裕的日子以来，这样的好东西 连听都没听说过。桌子上摆着雪糕- 而且有两碟，一碟粉红色，一碟白色 还有蛋糕、水果 和迷人的法式夹心糖，桌子中间还摆着四束美丽的温室鲜花！
这情景使她们大为惊讶。她们看看饭桌，又看看自己的母亲，母亲也显得非常高兴。
“这是小仙女干的吗？”艾美问。
“是圣诞老人，”贝思说。
“是妈妈干的！”脸上挂着白胡子白眉毛的梅格笑得又甜又美。
“是马奇婶婶心血来潮给我们送来的，”乔灵机一动叫道。
“全都不对，是劳伦斯老先生送来的，”马奇太太答道。
“那男孩的爷爷！他怎么会想到我们的呢？我们和他素不相识呀！”梅格嚷道。
“罕娜把你们早上做的事告诉了他的一个佣人。这位老绅士脾气古怪，但他听后很高 兴。他多年前就认识我父亲，今天下午便给我送了张十分客气的字条，说希望我能允许他向 我的孩子们表示他的善意，送上一点微不足道的圣诞礼物，我不便拒绝，所以你们晚上就开 个小宴会，作为对面包加牛奶早餐的补偿。”“一定是那男孩出的主意，准没错！他是个一 流的小伙子，但愿我们可以交朋友。他看来也想认识我们，只是有点怕羞，而梅格又一本正 经，我们路过也不让我跟他说句话。”这时碟子传过来，雪糕已开始融化，乔一边说一边呵 哈呵哈地吃得津津有味。
“你们说的是住在隔壁那座大房子里的人吗？”一个姑娘问，”我妈妈认识劳伦斯先 生，但说他非常高傲，不喜欢与邻里交往。他把自己的孩子关在家里，只让他跟着家庭教师 骑马散步，逼他用功读书。我们曾经邀请他参加我们的晚会，但他没来。妈妈说他相当不 错，虽然他从不跟我们女孩子说话。”“一次我家的猫儿不见了，是他送回来的。我们隔着 篱笆谈了几句，而且相当投机--谈的都是板球一类的东西 -他看到梅格走过来，就走开了。 我终有一天要认识他的，因为他需要乐趣，我肯定他很需要，”乔自信地说道。
“他举止彬彬有礼，令人喜爱。如果时机适宜，我不反对你们交朋友。他今天亲自把鲜 花送过来，我本应该请他进来的，但因为不知道你们在楼上干什么，就没让他进来。他走的 时候似乎闷闷不乐，若有所思；他听到你们在玩闹，而显然他自己没什么玩的。”“幸亏没 叫他进来，妈妈！”乔望望自己的靴子笑道，”不过以后我们会做一出他可以看的戏。或许 他还可以和我们一起演出呢。那岂不更有趣？”“我从未收到过这样漂亮的花束！真是美极 了！”梅格饶有兴致地审视着自己那束鲜花。
“花儿是漂亮！不过依我说贝思的玫瑰花更香，”马奇太太闻闻插在腰带上那几近凋零 的花朵说道。
贝思依偎到她的身旁，轻身低语道：“我真希望能把我的那束花送给爸爸。我想他圣诞 节恐怕过得没有我们这么快乐呢。”
Jo was the first to wake in the gray dawn of Christmas morning. No stockings hung at the fireplace, and for a moment she felt as much disappointed as she did long ago, when her little sock fell down because it was crammed so full of goodies. Then she remembered her mother's promise and, slipping her hand under her pillow, drew out a little crimson-covered book. She knew it very well, for it was that beautiful old story of the best life ever lived, and Jo felt that it was a true guidebook for any pilgrim going on a long journey. She woke Meg with a "Merry Christmas," and bade her see what was under her pillow. A green- covered book appeared, with the same picture inside, and a few words written by their mother, which made their one present very precious in their eyes. Presently Beth and Amy woke to rummage and find their little books also, one dove-colored, the other blue, and all sat looking at and talking about them, while the east grew rosy with the coming day.
In spite of her small vanities, Margaret had a sweet and pious nature, which unconsciously influenced her sisters, especially Jo, who loved her very tenderly, and obeyed her because her advice was so gently given.
"Girls," said Meg seriously, looking from the tumbled head beside her to the two little night-capped ones in the room beyond, "Mother wants us to read and love and mind these books, and we must begin at once. We used to be faithful about it, but since Father went away and all this war trouble unsettled us, we have neglected many things. You can do as you please, but I shall keep my book on the table here and read a little every morning as soon as I wake, for I know it will do me good and help me through the day."
Then she opened her new book and began to read. Jo put her arm round her and, leaning cheek to cheek, read also, with the quiet expression so seldom seen on her restless face.
"How good Meg is! Come, Amy, let's do as they do. I'll help you with the hard words, and they'll explain things if we don't understand," whispered Beth, very much impressed by the pretty books and her sisters, example.
"I'm glad mine is blue," said Amy. and then the rooms were very still while the pages were softly turned, and the winter sunshine crept in to touch the bright heads and serious faces with a Christmas greeting.
"Where is Mother?" asked Meg, as she and Jo ran down to thank her for their gifts, half an hour later.
"Goodness only knows. Some poor creeter came a-beggin', and your ma went straight off to see what was needed. There never was such a woman for givin' away vittles and drink, clothes and firin'," replied Hannah, who had lived with the family since Meg was born, and was considered by them all more as a friend than a servant.
"She will be back soon, I think, so fry your cakes, and have everything ready," said Meg, looking over the presents which were collected in a basket and kept under the sofa, ready to be produced at the proper time. "Why, where is Amy's bottle of cologne?" she added, as the little flask did not appear.
"She took it out a minute ago, and went off with it to put a ribbon on it, or some such notion," replied Jo, dancing about the room to take the first stiffness off the new army slippers.
"How nice my handkerchiefs look, don't they? Hannah washed and ironed them for me, and I marked them all myself," said Beth, looking proudly at the somewhat uneven letters which had cost her such labor.
"Bless the child! She's gone and put 'Mother' on them instead of 'M. March'. How funny!" cried Jo, taking one up.
"Isn't that right? I thought it was better to do it so, because Meg's initials are M.M., and I don't want anyone to use these but Marmee," said Beth, looking troubled.
"It's all right, dear, and a very pretty idea, quite sensible too, for no one can ever mistake now. It will please her very much, I know," said Meg, with a frown for Jo and a smile for Beth.
"There's Mother. Hide the basket, quick!" cried Jo, as a door slammed and steps sounded in the hall.
Amy came in hastily, and looked rather abashed when she saw her sisters all waiting for her.
"Where have you been, and what are you hiding behind you?" asked Meg, surprised to see, by her hood and cloak, that lazy Amy had been out so early.
"Don't laugh at me, Jo! I didn't mean anyone should know till the time came. I only meant to change the little bottle for a big one, and I gave all my money to get it, and I'm truly trying not to be selfish any more."
As she spoke, Amy showed the handsome flask which replaced the cheap one, and looked so earnest and humble in her little effort to forget herself that Meg hugged her on the spot, and Jo pronounced her 'a trump', while Beth ran to the window, and picked her finest rose to ornament the stately bottle.
"You see I felt ashamed of my present, after reading and talking about being good this morning, so I ran round the corner and changed it the minute I was up, and I'm so glad, for mine is the handsomest now."
Another bang of the street door sent the basket under the sofa, and the girls to the table, eager for breakfast.
"Merry Christmas, Marmee! Many of them! Thank you for our books. We read some, and mean to every day," they all cried in chorus.
"Merry Christmas, little daughters! I'm glad you began at once, and hope you will keep on. But I want to say one word before we sit down. Not far away from here lies a poor woman with a little newborn baby. Six children are huddled into one bed to keep from freezing, for they have no fire. There is nothing to eat over there, and the oldest boy came to tell me they were suffering hunger and cold. My girls, will you give them your breakfast as a Christmas present?"
They were all unusually hungry, having waited nearly an hour, and for a minute no one spoke, only a minute, for Jo exclaimed impetuously, "I'm so glad you came before we began!"
"May I go and help carry the things to the poor little children?" asked Beth eagerly.
"I shall take the cream and the muffings," added Amy, heroically giving up the article she most liked.
Meg was already covering the buckwheats, and piling the bread into one big plate.
"I thought you'd do it," said Mrs. March, smiling as if satisfied. "You shall all go and help me, and when we come back we will have bread and milk for breakfast, and make it up at dinnertime."
They were soon ready, and the procession set out. Fortunately it was early, and they went through back streets, so few people saw them, and no one laughed at the queer party.
A poor, bare, miserable room it was, with broken windows, no fire, ragged bedclothes, a sick mother, wailing baby, and a group of pale, hungry children cuddled under one old quilt, trying to keep warm.
How the big eyes stared and the blue lips smiled as the girls went in.
"Ach, mein Gott! It is good angels come to us!" said the poor woman, crying for joy.
"Funny angels in hoods and mittens," said Jo, and set them to laughing.
In a few minutes it really did seem as if kind spirits had been at work there. Hannah, who had carried wood, made a fire, and stopped up the broken panes with old hats and her own cloak. Mrs. March gave the mother tea and gruel, and comforted her with promises of help, while she dressed the little baby as tenderly as if it had been her own. The girls meantime spread the table, set the children round the fire, and fed them like so many hungry birds, laughing, talking, and trying to understand the funny broken English.
"Das ist gut!" "Die Engel-kinder!" cried the poor things as they ate and warmed their purple hands at the comfortable blaze. The girls had never been called angel children before, and thought it very agreeable, especially Jo, who had been considered a 'Sancho' ever since she was born. That was a very happy breakfast, though they didn't get any of it. And when they went away, leaving comfort behind, I think there were not in all the city four merrier people than the hungry little girls who gave away their breakfasts and contented themselves with bread and milk on Christmas morning.
"That's loving our neighbor better than ourselves, and I like it," said Meg, as they set out their presents while their mother was upstairs collecting clothes for the poor Hummels.
Not a very splendid show, but there was a great deal of love done up in the few little bundles, and the tall vase of red roses, white chrysanthemums, and trailing vines, which stood in the middle, gave quite an elegant air to the table.
"She's coming! Strike up, Beth! Open the door, Amy! Three cheers for Marmee!" cried Jo, prancing about while Meg went to conduct Mother to the seat of honor.
Beth played her gayest march, Amy threw open the door, and Meg enacted escort with great dignity. Mrs. March was both surprised and touched, and smiled with her eyes full as she examined her presents and read the little notes which accompanied them. The slippers went on at once, a new handkerchief was slipped into her pocket, well scented with Amy's cologne, the rose was fastened in her bosom, and the nice gloves were pronounced a perfect fit.
There was a good deal of laughing and kissing and explaining, in the simple, loving fashion which makes these home festivals so pleasant at the time, so sweet to remember long afterward, and then all fell to work.
The morning charities and ceremonies took so much time that the rest of the day was devoted to preparations for the evening festivities. Being still too young to go often to the theater, and not rich enough to afford any great outlay for private performances, the girls put their wits to work, and necessity being the mother of invention, made whatever they needed. Very clever were some of their productions, pasteboard guitars, antique lamps made of old-fashioned butter boats covered with silver paper, gorgeous robes of old cotton, glittering with tin spangles from a pickle factory, and armor covered with the same useful diamond shaped bits left in sheets when the lids of preserve pots were cut out. The big chamber was the scene of many innocent revels.
No gentleman were admitted, so Jo played male parts to her heart's content and took immense satisfaction in a pair of russet leather boots given her by a friend, who knew a lady who knew an actor. These boots, an old foil, and a slashed doublet once used by an artist for some picture, were Jo's chief treasures and appeared on all occasions. The smallness of the company made it necessary for the two principal actors to take several parts apiece, and they certainly deserved some credit for the hard work they did in learning three or four different parts, whisking in and out of various costumes, and managing the stage besides. It was excellent drill for their memories, a harmless amusement, and employed many hours which otherwise would have been idle, lonely, or spent in less profitable society.
On christmas night, a dozen girls piled onto the bed which was the dress circle, and sat before the blue and yellow chintz curtains in a most flattering state of expectancy. There was a good deal of rustling and whispering behind the curtain, a trifle of lamp smoke, and an occasional giggle from Amy, who was apt to get hysterical in the excitement of the moment. Presently a bell sounded, the curtains flew apart, and the _operatic tragedy_ began.
"A gloomy wood," according to the one playbill, was represented by a few shrubs in pots, green baize on the floor, and a cave in the distance. This cave was made with a clothes horse for a roof, bureaus for walls, and in it was a small furnace in full blast, with a black pot on it and an old witch bending over it. The stage was dark and the glow of the furnace had a fine effect, especially as real steam issued from the kettle when the witch took off the cover. A moment was allowed for the first thrill to subside, then Hugo, the villain, stalked in with a clanking sword at his side, a slouching hat, black beard, mysterious cloak, and the boots. After pacing to and fro in much agitation, he struck his forehead, and burst out in a wild strain, singing of his hatred for Roderigo, his love for Zara, and his pleasing resolution to kill the one and win the other. The gruff tones of Hugo's voice, with an occasional shout when his feelings overcame him, were very impressive, and the audience applauded the moment he paused for breath. Bowing with the air of one accustomed to public praise, he stole to the cavern and ordered Hagar to come forth with a commanding, "What ho, minion! I need thee!"
Out came Meg, with gray horsehair hanging about her face, a red and black robe, a staff, and cabalistic signs upon her cloak. Hugo demanded a potion to make Zara adore him, and one to destroy Roderigo. Hagar, in a fine dramatic melody, promised both, and proceeded to call up the spirit who would bring the love philter.
Hither, hither, from thy home, Airy sprite, I bid thee come! Born of roses, fed on dew, Charms and potions canst thou brew? Bring me here, with elfin speed, The fragrant philter which I need. Make it sweet and swift and strong, Spirit, answer now my song!
A soft strain of music sounded, and then at the back of the cave appeared a little figure in cloudy white, with glittering wings, golden hair, and a garland of roses on its head. Waving a wand, it sang . . .
Hither I come, From my airy home, Afar in the silver moon. Take the magic spell, And use it well, Or its power will vanish soon!
And dropping a small, gilded bottle at the witch's feet, the spirit vanished. Another chant from Hagar produced another apparition, not a lovely one, for with a bang an ugly black imp appeared and, having croaked a reply, tossed a dark bottle at Hugo and disappeared with a mocking laugh. Having warbled his thanks and put the potions in his boots, Hugo departed, and Hagar informed the audience that as he had killed a few of her friends in times past, she had cursed him, and intends to thwart his plans, and be revenged on him. Then the curtain fell, and the audience reposed and ate candy while discussing the merits of the play.
A good deal of hammering went on before the curtain rose again, but when it became evident what a masterpiece of stage carpentery had been got up, no one murmured at the delay. It was truly superb. A tower rose to the ceiling, halfway up appeared a window with a lamp burning in it, and behind the white curtain appeared Zara in a lovely blue and silver dress, waiting for Roderigo. He came in gorgeous array, with plumed cap, red cloak, chestnut lovelocks, a guitar, and the boots, of course. Kneeling at the foot of the tower, he sang a serenade in melting tones. Zara replied and, after a musical dialogue, consented to fly. Then came the grand effect of the play. Roderigo produced a rope ladder, with five steps to it, threw up one end, and invited Zara to descend. Timidly she crept from her lattice, put her hand on Roderigo's shoulder, and was about to leap gracefully down when "Alas! Alas for Zara!" she forgot her train. It caught in the window, the tower tottered, leaned forward, fell with a crash, and buried the unhappy lovers in the ruins.
A universal shriek arose as the russet boots waved wildly from the wreck and a golden head emerged, exclaiming, "I told you so! I told you so!" With wonderful presence of mind, Don Pedro, the cruel sire, rushed in, dragged out his daughter, with a hasty aside . . .
"Don't laugh! Act as if it was all right!" and, ordering Roderigo up, banished him from the kingdom with wrath and scorn. Though decidedly shaken by the fall from the tower upon him, Roderigo defied the old gentleman and refused to stir. This dauntless example fired Zara. She also defied her sire, and he ordered them both to the deepest dungeons of the castle. A stout little retainer came in with chains and led them away, looking very much frightened and evidently forgetting the speech he ought to have made.
Act third was the castle hall, and here Hagar appeared, having come to free the lovers and finish Hugo. She hears him coming and hides, sees him put the potions into two cups of wine and bid the timid little servant, "Bear them to the captives in their cells, and tell them I shall come anon." The servant takes Hugo aside to tell him something, and Hagar changes the cups for two others which are harmless. Ferdinando, the 'minion', carries them away, and Hagar puts back the cup which holds the poison meant for Roderigo. Hugo, getting thirsty after a long warble, drinks it, loses his wits, and after a good deal of clutching and stamping, falls flat and dies, while Hagar informs him what she has done in a song of exquisite power and melody.
This was a truly thrilling scene, though some persons might have thought that the sudden tumbling down of a quantity of long red hair rather marred the effect of the villain's death. He was called before the curtain, and with great propriety appeared, leading Hagar, whose singing was considered more wonderful than all the rest of the performance put together.
Act fourth displayed the despairing Roderigo on the point of stabbing himself because he has been told that Zara has deserted him. Just as the dagger is at his heart, a lovely song is sung under his window, informing him that Zara is true but in danger, and he can save her if he will. A key is thrown in, which unlocks the door, and in a spasm of rapture he tears off his chains and rushes away to find and rescue his lady love.
Act fifth opened with a stormy scene between Zara and Don Pedro. He wishes her to go into a convent, but she won't hear of it, and after a touching appeal, is about to faint when Roderigo dashes in and demands her hand. Don Pedro refuses, because he is not rich. They shout and gesticulate tremendously but cannot agree, and Rodrigo is about to bear away the exhausted Zara, when the timid servant enters with a letter and a bag from Hagar, who has mysteriously disappeared. The latter informs the party that she bequeaths untold wealth to the young pair and an awful doom to Don Pedro, if he doesn't make them happy. The bag is opened, and several quarts of tin money shower down upon the stage till it is quite glorified with the glitter. This entirely softens the stern sire. He consents without a murmur, all join in a joyful chorus, and the curtain falls upon the lovers kneeling to receive Don Pedro's blessing in attitudes of the most romantic grace.
Tumultuous applause followed but received an unexpected check, for the cot bed, on which the dress circle was built, suddenly shut up and extinguished the enthusiastic audience. Roderigo and Don Pedro flew to the rescue, and all were taken out unhurt, though many were speechless with laughter. The excitement had hardly subsided when Hannah appeared, with "Mrs. March's compliments, and would the ladies walk down to supper."
This was a surprise even to the actors, and when they saw the table, they looked at one another in rapturous amazement. It was like Marmee to get up a little treat for them, but anything so fine as this was unheard of since the departed days of plenty. There was ice cream, actually two dishes of it, pink and white, and cake and fruit and distracting french bonbons and, in the middle of the table, four great bouquets of hot house flowers.
It quite took their breath away, and they stared first at the table and then at their mother, who looked as if she enjoyed it immensely.
"Is it fairies?" asked Amy.
"Santa Claus," said Beth.
"Mother did it." And Meg smiled her sweetest, in spite of her gray beard and white eyebrows.
"Aunt March had a good fit and sent the supper," cried Jo, with a sudden inspiration.
"All wrong. Old Mr. Laurence sent it," replied Mrs. March.
"The Laurence boy's grandfather! What in the world put such a thing into his head? We don't know him!" exclaimed Meg.
"Hannah told one of his servants about your breakfast party. He is an odd old gentleman, but that pleased him. He knew my father years ago, and he sent me a polite note this afternoon, saying he hoped I would allow him to express his friendly feeling toward my children by sending them a few trifles in honor of the day. I could not refuse, and so you have a little feast at night to make up for the bread-and-milk breakfast."
"That boy put it into his head, I know he did! He's a capital fellow, and I wish we could get acquainted. He looks as if he'd like to know us but he's bashful, and Meg is so prim she won't let me speak to him when we pass," said Jo, as the plates went round, and the ice began to melt out of sight, with ohs and ahs of satisfaction.
"You mean the people who live in the big house next door, don't you?" asked one of the girls. "My mother knows old Mr. Laurence, but says he's very proud and doesn't like to mix with his neighbors. He keeps his grandson shut up, when he isn't riding or walking with his tutor, and makes him study very hard. We invited him to our party, but he didn't come. Mother says he's very nice, though he never speaks to us girls."
"Our cat ran away once, and he brought her back, and we talked over the fence, and were getting on capitally, all about cricket, and so on, when he saw Meg coming, and walked off. I mean to know him some day, for he needs fun, I'm sure he does," said Jo decidedly.
"I like his manners, and he looks like a little gentleman, so I've no objection to your knowing him, if a proper opportunity comes. He brought the flowers himself, and I should have asked him in, if I had been sure what was going on upstairs. He looked so wistful as he went away, hearing the frolic and evidently having none of his own."
"It's a mercy you didn't, Mother!" laughed Jo, looking at her boots. "But we'll have another play sometime that he can see. Perhaps he'll help act. Wouldn't that be jolly?"
"I never had such a fine bouquet before! How pretty it is!" And Meg examined her flowers with great interest.
"They are lovely. But Beth's roses are sweeter to me," said Mrs. March, smelling the half-dead posy in her belt.
Beth nestled up to her, and whispered softly, "I wish I could send my bunch to Father. I'm afraid he isn't having such a merry Christmas as we are."
玛格丽特虽然有点爱慕虚荣，但她天性温柔善良，颇得姐妹们敬重，特别是乔，更是深 深地爱着自己的姐姐，并对她言听计从，因为她无论说什么都总是轻声细语的。
“姑娘们，”梅格严肃地说，看看身边头发蓬乱的一位，又看看房间另一头戴着睡帽的 两个小脑袋，”妈妈希望我们爱惜这些书，读好这些书，我们应该立即行动。虽然我们以前 做得挺认真，但自从爸爸离家后，战乱七繁，我们忽略了许多事。你们爱怎样我不管，但我 要把书放在这张桌上，每天早上一醒来就读一点，因为我知道，这样会有好处，它将伴我度 过每一天。”说完她打开新书读了起来，乔用胳膊拥着她，与她并肩而读，不安分的脸上露 出少见的宁静。
“梅格真好！来，艾美，我们也一起读吧。我帮你解释生词，我们不懂的地方就由她们 来讲解好了，”贝思轻声说。她被漂亮的小书和两位姐姐全神贯注的模样深深感动了。
“真开心，我的封面是蓝色的，”艾美说。接下来除了轻轻的翻书声外，屋里一片宁 静。这时，冬日的阳光悄悄潜入屋内，轻柔地抚摸着她们亮丽的头发和严肃的脸庞，向她们 致以圣诞节的问候。
“妈妈哪儿去了？”半个小时后，梅格和乔跑下楼，要找妈妈道谢。
“老天才知道。一些穷人来讨东西，你妈马上就去看他们需要什么。她是天底下最菩萨 心肠的女人，”罕娜答道。老嬷嬷自打梅格出生以来就一直和她们一家生活在一起，尽管她 是个佣人，大家都拿当朋友。
“我想她很快就会回来，你先煎饼，把东西准备好，”梅格一边说一边把装在篮子里的 礼物又看了一遍。礼物藏在沙发下面，准备在适当的时候拿出来。”咦，艾美的那瓶古龙水 呢？”她接着又问，因为篮子里没有那个小瓶子。
“她刚刚把它拿走了，要系根丝带或者什么小玩意儿，”乔答道。她正在屋子里蹦来蹦 去，要把硬邦邦的军鞋穿软和。
“我的手帕漂亮极了，对吧？罕娜把它们洗得干干净净，还熨过了，上面的字都是我亲 手绣的，”贝思说着，骄傲地看着那些她费了许多工夫绣成但又不太工整的字体。
“哎呀！她把'马奇太太'绣成'妈妈'了，真有趣！”乔拿起一条手帕嚷道。
“这样不行吗？我原以为这样会更好，因为梅格的首写字母也是Ｍ．Ｍ．，而这些手帕 我只想让妈妈用。”贝思的神情显得有点不安。
“这样挺好，亲爱的，而且主意不错--相当有理哩，因为这样就不会弄错了。妈妈一定 会很高兴的，”梅格说着，对乔皱皱眉，又向贝思一笑。
“妈妈回来了，藏好篮子，快！”乔立即叫起来。门呯地一响，大厅传来了脚步声。
艾美急匆匆地走进来，看到姐姐们都在等她，显得有点不好意思。
“你到哪儿去了，藏在后面的是什么？”梅格问。看到艾美穿戴整齐，她不由诧异这小 懒虫竟然这么早就出去了！
“别笑我，乔！我并不是有意要瞒着你们，我只是花掉全部的钱把小瓶的古龙水换成大 瓶的，我真的不想再那么自私了。”艾美一边说一边给大家看她用原先的便宜货换回来的大 瓶古龙水。她努力克服私利，显得诚恳而谦恭，梅格一把抱住了她，乔宣布她是个"大好人"， 贝思则跑到窗边摘下一朵美丽的玫瑰花来装饰这个漂亮的大瓶子。
“你们知道，今天早上大家一起读书，又谈到要做好孩子，我为自己的礼物感到羞愧， 所以起床后马上跑到附近把它换过来，我真高兴，因为我的礼物现在成了最漂亮的啦。”临 街的大门又响了一下，篮子再次藏到沙发下面，姑娘们围坐在桌子边，等着吃早餐。
“圣诞快乐，妈咪！谢谢你送给我们的书。我们读了一点，以后每天都要读，“姐妹们 齐声喊道。
“圣诞快乐，小姑娘们！真高兴你们马上就开始学习，可要坚持下去埃不过坐下之前我 想说几句话。离这儿不远的地方，躺着一个可怜的妇人和一个刚生下来的婴儿。六个孩子为 了不被冻僵挤在一张床上，因为他们没有火取暖。那里没有吃的，最大的孩子来告诉我他们 又冷又饿。姑娘们，你们愿意把早餐送给他们做圣诞礼物吗？”她们刚才等了差不多一个小 时，现在正饿得慌，有一阵子大家都默不作声- 就那么一阵子，只听乔冲口而出道：“我真 高兴，早餐还没开始呢！”“我帮着把东西拿给那些可怜的孩子好吗？”贝思热切地问道。
“我来拿奶油和松饼，”艾美接着说，英雄似地放弃了自己最喜欢吃的东西。
梅格已动手把荞麦盖上，把面包堆放到一个大盘子里。
“我早料到你们会这样做，”马奇太太舒心地微笑道，”你们都去帮我，回来后早餐吃 点牛奶面包，到正餐的时候再补回来。”大家很快准备妥当，队伍出发了。幸亏时候尚早， 她们又打后街穿过，没几个人看到她们，也没人取笑这支奇怪的队伍。
这是一个满目凄凉的贫贱之家，四壁萧然，门窗破败，屋里没有炉火，床上被褥褴褛， 病弱的母亲抱着啼哭的婴儿，一群面黄肌瘦、饥肠辘辘的孩子披着一张破被缩成一团。
看见姑娘们走进来，他们惊喜得瞪大眼睛，咧开冻得发紫的嘴唇笑了起来！
“哎呀，老天爷，善良的天使看我们来了！”那个可怜的女人欢喜得叫起来。
“是戴帽子手套的趣怪天使，”乔说道，逗得他们都笑起来。
这情景真让人以为是好心的神灵在显圣呢。罕娜用带来的木柴生起炉火，又用一些旧帽 子和自己的斗篷挡住破烂的玻璃窗。马奇太太一边为做母亲的端茶递粥，一边安慰她，让她 宽心，又像对待自己的亲生骨肉一样轻柔地为小宝宝穿上衣服。姑娘们摆好桌子，把孩子们 安顿到火炉边，像喂一群饥饿的小鸟一样喂他们，并跟他们说笑，尽力想听明白他们有趣而 又蹩脚的英语。
“真系（是）好！”“这些天使好心人！”这班可怜的孩子边吃边把发紫的小手伸到温 暖的火炉边暖和着。
姑娘们还是第一次被人称作小天使，觉得非常惬意，尤其是乔，她自打娘胎生下来就被 大家当作"桑丘"，因此更加得意。虽然她们没有吃上一口早餐，心里却感到无比的舒畅。当 这四个饥肠辘辘的小姑娘把温暖留给别人，走在回家的路上时，我想合城里再没人能比她们 更幸福了。她们在圣诞节早上把最好的早餐送给穷人，自己却宁愿吃面包和牛奶。
“这就是所谓爱别人胜于爱自己，我喜欢这样，”梅格说。
她们趁母亲上楼为贫穷的赫梅尔一家收集衣物时把礼物摆了出来。
这些小礼物并不贵重，但都经过精心的包装，从中可见一片深情。一只高高的花瓶立在 桌子中间，里头插着红色的玫瑰和白色的菊花，衬着几缕垂蔓，平添一份雅致。
“她来了！开始演奏，贝思！开门，艾美！为妈妈欢呼三声！”乔欢跃着大声喊叫，梅 格则上前去把妈妈接到贵宾席位。
贝思弹起欢快的进行曲，艾美拉开门，梅格俨然是一个护花使者。马奇太太既惊讶又感 动，她含笑端详着她的礼物，读着附在上面的小字条，不由眼中噙满泪水地笑了。她当即穿 上便鞋，又把一条散发着古龙水香味的手帕放入衣袋，然后她把那朵玫瑰花别在胸前，又称 赞别致的手套"绝对合适"。
大家笑着、吻着、解释着，这种简单而又充满爱意的方式增添了家里的节日气氛，其温 馨让人永久难忘。然后，大家又投入了工作。
早上的慈善活动和庆典花了不少时间，余下的时间便用来准备晚上的欢庆活动。由于年 龄太小，不宜经常上戏院，又因为经济拮据，支付不起业余表演的大笔费用，姑娘们于是充 分发挥才智--需要是发明之母 -需要什么，她们便做什么。她们的创造品有些还挺见心机- 用纸板做的吉它，用旧式牛油瓶裹上锡纸做成的古灯，用旧棉布做的鲜艳夺目的长袍，面上 亮晶晶地镶着从一家腌菜厂拿来的小锡片，还有镶有同样的钻石形小锡片的盔甲，这些被派 上用场的小锡片是腌菜厂做罐头剩下的边角料。屋子里的家具常常被弄得乱七八糟，大房间 就是舞台，姑娘们在台上天真无邪地尽兴表演。
由于不收男士，乔便尽情地扮演男角。她对一双黄褐色的长统皮靴尤为满意。因为靴子 是她的一个朋友赠送的，这位朋友认识一位女士，女士又认识一位演员。这双靴子、一把旧 钝头剑，还有某个艺术家用来画过几幅画的开衩背心，这些便是乔的主要宝藏，任何场合都 得登台亮相。因为剧团小，两个主要演员必须分别扮演几个角色。她们同时学习三四个不同 角色的表演，飞快地轮番换上各式各样的戏服，同时还要兼顾幕后工作，其努力精神值得称 道。这种有益的娱乐活动可以很好地锻炼她们的记忆力，并可以打发闲暇，排遣寂寞，减少 无聊的社交。
圣诞之夜，十二个女孩子挤在花楼 -一张床— 的上头，坐在黄蓝二色混合的磨光印花 帘幕前面，翘首以盼，焦急地等着看戏。幕后灯光朦胧，不时传来沙沙的响声和悄悄的话语 声，偶尔还传来容易激动的艾美在兴奋之中发出的咯咯笑声。不一会铃声响起，帘幕拉开， 《歌剧式的悲剧》开始了。
几株盆栽灌木、铺在地板上的绿色厚毛呢，以及远处的一个洞穴构成了节目单上的"阴 森森的树林"，洞穴用晒衣架做洞顶，衣柜做墙壁，里头有一个熊熊燃烧着的小炉子，一个 老巫婆正俯身把弄炉上的一个黑锅。舞台阴森黑暗，熊熊的炉火营造了良好的舞台效果。女 巫揭开锅盖，锅里冒出阵阵蒸气，令人叫绝。第一阵过后，歹徒雨果阔步上常他嘴上蓄 着黑胡子，头上歪戴着一顶帽子，脚踏长靴，身披神秘外衣，腰间佩一把当啷作响的宝剑。 他焦躁不安地来回走了几步，猛然一拍额头，放声高歌，唱他对罗德力戈的恨、对萨拉的 爱，以及要杀掉仇人、赢得莎拉的心愿。雨果粗哑的嗓音和感情暴发时偶然发出的一声大喝 给观众留下极其深刻的印象，他刚停下要歇口气，大家便报以热烈的掌声。他习以为常地躬 身谢过，又轻轻走到洞穴，大模大样地命黑格出来：“呔！奴才！出来！”梅格出来，脸上 挂着灰色马鬃，身穿黑红二色长袍，手持拐杖，大衣上画着神秘符号。雨果向他索取两种魔 药，一种可以使莎拉爱他，另一种用来毒死罗德力戈。黑格唱起优美的歌儿，答应把两种魔 药都给他，接着他把送魔药的小精灵叫出来。戏文唱道：来吧、来吧，空中的小精灵。
我令你从家里过来！
你玫瑰生成，雨露裹腹，
可知道怎样调制魔药？
快速速给我送来，
我要的芳馥药儿，
要调得既浓又甜，药力神速，
快回答我吧，小精灵！
音乐轻柔地奏起来，接着洞穴后面现出一个小身影：金色的头发，一身乳白色的衣裳， 两个翅膀闪闪发亮，头上戴着玫瑰花环。它挥舞魔杖唱道：来了，我来了，从我虚无缥渺的 家园，那遥远的银色的月亮。
把魔药拿去，
并用在适当的地方，
不然它的魔力就会很快失去！
小精灵把一个金闪闪的小瓶子扔到女巫脚下，随之消失。黑格再次施用魔法唤来另一个 幽灵。只听呯的一声，一个丑陋的黑色小魔鬼出来。它用阴森森的声音作了回答，然后把一 个黑色瓶子扔向雨果，冷笑一声，消失得无影无踪。雨果用颤抖的嗓音道过谢，把两瓶魔药 放进靴子里，转身离去。黑格告诉观众，因为雨果以前曾杀死过她的几个朋友，她给他下了 魔咒，准备挫败他的计划，向他复仇。接着帘幕落下，观众们一边休息和吃糖，一边评长论 短。
帘幕迟迟没有拉开，里头传来好一阵锤打声。不过当舞台布景终于出现在眼前时，观众 们谁都顾不得抱怨刚才耽误了时间，因为布景实在太美了，简直是巧夺天工！只见一座塔楼 耸入屋顶，塔楼半空露出一扇亮着灯光的窗户，白色的帘幕后面莎拉身穿一套漂亮的银蓝二 色裙子在等待罗德力戈。罗德力戈盛装走进。他一头栗色鬈发，戴一顶插着羽毛的帽子，身 披红色外衣，手拿吉它，脚踏长靴。当然啦，他跪在塔下，柔情万分地唱起一支小夜曲。莎 拉回答他，用歌声对了几句话后，同意私奔。接下来是话剧的大场面。罗德力戈拿出一张有 五个梯级的草绳软梯，把一端抛上去，请莎拉下来。莎拉含羞从花窗格子爬下来，手扶罗德 力戈的肩头，正要优雅地往下跳，突然观众叫起来：“哎呀！哎呀！莎拉！”原来一不留 神，她的长裙被窗户绊住了。塔楼摇晃着向前倾斜，轰的一声倒下，把这对倒霉的恋人埋在 废墟里！
众人尖声大叫，只见黄褐色皮靴伸出废墟使劲乱摇，一个金发脑袋探出来叫道：“我早 就告诉过你会这样！我早就告诉过你会这样！”那位冷酷的父亲唐·佩德罗头脑极为冷静， 他冲进去拖出自己的女儿，一把拉向身边。
“别笑！继续演，就当什么也没发生过！”他命令罗德力戈站起来，盛怒而轻蔑地将他 驱逐出去。虽然被倒下的塔楼砸得不轻，罗德力戈并没有忘掉自己的角色，他不理睬这位老 绅士，就是不动身子。这种大无畏的精神启发了莎拉；她也不理睬父亲。唐·佩得罗于是命 令两人一起下到城堡最低层的地牢里。一位稍胖的小侍从手持锁链走进来，神色慌张地把他 们带走，显然是把讲的台词忘掉了。
第三幕是城堡的大厅，黑格在此出现，准备解救这对恋人并解决雨果。她听到雨果走进 来便藏起来，看他把魔药倒进两个酒杯，又听他吩咐那位腼腆的小侍从：“把酒带给地牢里 的囚徒，告诉他们我一会就来。”小侍从把雨果带到一边说了几句话，黑格随即把两杯药酒 换成两杯没有药性的。”奴才"费迪南多把酒带走了，黑格把原来要给罗德力戈的那杯毒酒 放回去。雨果唱完一支冗长的歌后感到口渴，便喝下那杯毒酒，顿时失去神智，拼命挣扎一 番后，挺直身子倒地而死。这时黑格用热烈而优美的曲调唱了一首歌，说明自己刚才使了什 么手段。
这真是震撼人心的一幕，虽然有些人或许认为突然跌落的一把长发使歹徒之死显得有些 失色。歹徒应观众的要求彬彬有礼地领着黑格走到幕前谢幕。黑格的歌声被认为是全场戏的 问鼎之作。
第四幕大家看到罗德力戈听说莎拉离弃了他，万分绝望，准备自杀。他刚刚把剑对准心 脏，突然听到窗下传来优美的歌声，告诉他莎拉没有变心，但身处险境，如果他愿意可以把 她救出来。接着外面扔进一把钥匙。把门锁打开后，他狂喜地挫断锁链冲出门外，去营救心 爱的姑娘。
第五幕开场时，莎拉和唐·佩得罗正闹得不可开交。唐·佩得罗要她进修道院，她坚决 不从，并伤心欲绝地求他开恩，正要晕倒时，罗德力戈闯入并向她求婚。唐·佩德罗不答 应，因为他没有钱。两人大吵大闹一番，依然互不相让。罗德力戈正要把筋疲力尽的莎拉背 走，羞怯的小侍从拿着黑格交给她的一封信和一个布袋走进来，黑格此时已神秘地消失。
这封信告诉大家她把一大笔财富赠给这对年轻人，如果唐·佩得罗破坏他们的幸福，必 遭厄运。接着布袋打开了，大把大把的锡币洒落下来，堆在台上闪闪发亮，极为壮观。”狠 心的父亲"这才软下心肠，一声不响地表示同意。众人于是齐声欢唱，一双恋人以极为优雅 浪漫的姿态跪下，接受唐·佩德罗的祝福，帘幕随之降下。
接下来响起了热烈的掌声，正当此时，那座用作花楼的帆布床突然折拢，把热情洋溢的 观众压倒。罗德力戈和唐·佩德罗飞身前来抢救，众人虽然毫发无损，但全都笑得说不出话 来。大家刚刚恢复神态，罕娜进来说：“马奇太太致以祝贺，并请女士们下来用餐。”大家 一阵惊喜，连演员亦不例外。看到桌子上摆着的东西，她们高兴得互相对望，同时都感到十 分奇怪。妈妈平时也会弄点吃的款待她们，不过自从告别了宽裕的日子以来，这样的好东西 连听都没听说过。桌子上摆着雪糕- 而且有两碟，一碟粉红色，一碟白色 还有蛋糕、水果 和迷人的法式夹心糖，桌子中间还摆着四束美丽的温室鲜花！
这情景使她们大为惊讶。她们看看饭桌，又看看自己的母亲，母亲也显得非常高兴。
“这是小仙女干的吗？”艾美问。
“是圣诞老人，”贝思说。
“是妈妈干的！”脸上挂着白胡子白眉毛的梅格笑得又甜又美。
“是马奇婶婶心血来潮给我们送来的，”乔灵机一动叫道。
“全都不对，是劳伦斯老先生送来的，”马奇太太答道。
“那男孩的爷爷！他怎么会想到我们的呢？我们和他素不相识呀！”梅格嚷道。
“罕娜把你们早上做的事告诉了他的一个佣人。这位老绅士脾气古怪，但他听后很高 兴。他多年前就认识我父亲，今天下午便给我送了张十分客气的字条，说希望我能允许他向 我的孩子们表示他的善意，送上一点微不足道的圣诞礼物，我不便拒绝，所以你们晚上就开 个小宴会，作为对面包加牛奶早餐的补偿。”“一定是那男孩出的主意，准没错！他是个一 流的小伙子，但愿我们可以交朋友。他看来也想认识我们，只是有点怕羞，而梅格又一本正 经，我们路过也不让我跟他说句话。”这时碟子传过来，雪糕已开始融化，乔一边说一边呵 哈呵哈地吃得津津有味。
“你们说的是住在隔壁那座大房子里的人吗？”一个姑娘问，”我妈妈认识劳伦斯先 生，但说他非常高傲，不喜欢与邻里交往。他把自己的孩子关在家里，只让他跟着家庭教师 骑马散步，逼他用功读书。我们曾经邀请他参加我们的晚会，但他没来。妈妈说他相当不 错，虽然他从不跟我们女孩子说话。”“一次我家的猫儿不见了，是他送回来的。我们隔着 篱笆谈了几句，而且相当投机--谈的都是板球一类的东西 -他看到梅格走过来，就走开了。 我终有一天要认识他的，因为他需要乐趣，我肯定他很需要，”乔自信地说道。
“他举止彬彬有礼，令人喜爱。如果时机适宜，我不反对你们交朋友。他今天亲自把鲜 花送过来，我本应该请他进来的，但因为不知道你们在楼上干什么，就没让他进来。他走的 时候似乎闷闷不乐，若有所思；他听到你们在玩闹，而显然他自己没什么玩的。”“幸亏没 叫他进来，妈妈！”乔望望自己的靴子笑道，”不过以后我们会做一出他可以看的戏。或许 他还可以和我们一起演出呢。那岂不更有趣？”“我从未收到过这样漂亮的花束！真是美极 了！”梅格饶有兴致地审视着自己那束鲜花。
“花儿是漂亮！不过依我说贝思的玫瑰花更香，”马奇太太闻闻插在腰带上那几近凋零 的花朵说道。
贝思依偎到她的身旁，轻身低语道：“我真希望能把我的那束花送给爸爸。我想他圣诞 节恐怕过得没有我们这么快乐呢。”
Jo was the first to wake in the gray dawn of Christmas morning. No stockings hung at the fireplace, and for a moment she felt as much disappointed as she did long ago, when her little sock fell down because it was crammed so full of goodies. Then she remembered her mother's promise and, slipping her hand under her pillow, drew out a little crimson-covered book. She knew it very well, for it was that beautiful old story of the best life ever lived, and Jo felt that it was a true guidebook for any pilgrim going on a long journey. She woke Meg with a "Merry Christmas," and bade her see what was under her pillow. A green- covered book appeared, with the same picture inside, and a few words written by their mother, which made their one present very precious in their eyes. Presently Beth and Amy woke to rummage and find their little books also, one dove-colored, the other blue, and all sat looking at and talking about them, while the east grew rosy with the coming day.
In spite of her small vanities, Margaret had a sweet and pious nature, which unconsciously influenced her sisters, especially Jo, who loved her very tenderly, and obeyed her because her advice was so gently given.
"Girls," said Meg seriously, looking from the tumbled head beside her to the two little night-capped ones in the room beyond, "Mother wants us to read and love and mind these books, and we must begin at once. We used to be faithful about it, but since Father went away and all this war trouble unsettled us, we have neglected many things. You can do as you please, but I shall keep my book on the table here and read a little every morning as soon as I wake, for I know it will do me good and help me through the day."
Then she opened her new book and began to read. Jo put her arm round her and, leaning cheek to cheek, read also, with the quiet expression so seldom seen on her restless face.
"How good Meg is! Come, Amy, let's do as they do. I'll help you with the hard words, and they'll explain things if we don't understand," whispered Beth, very much impressed by the pretty books and her sisters, example.
"I'm glad mine is blue," said Amy. and then the rooms were very still while the pages were softly turned, and the winter sunshine crept in to touch the bright heads and serious faces with a Christmas greeting.
"Where is Mother?" asked Meg, as she and Jo ran down to thank her for their gifts, half an hour later.
"Goodness only knows. Some poor creeter came a-beggin', and your ma went straight off to see what was needed. There never was such a woman for givin' away vittles and drink, clothes and firin'," replied Hannah, who had lived with the family since Meg was born, and was considered by them all more as a friend than a servant.
"She will be back soon, I think, so fry your cakes, and have everything ready," said Meg, looking over the presents which were collected in a basket and kept under the sofa, ready to be produced at the proper time. "Why, where is Amy's bottle of cologne?" she added, as the little flask did not appear.
"She took it out a minute ago, and went off with it to put a ribbon on it, or some such notion," replied Jo, dancing about the room to take the first stiffness off the new army slippers.
"How nice my handkerchiefs look, don't they? Hannah washed and ironed them for me, and I marked them all myself," said Beth, looking proudly at the somewhat uneven letters which had cost her such labor.
"Bless the child! She's gone and put 'Mother' on them instead of 'M. March'. How funny!" cried Jo, taking one up.
"Isn't that right? I thought it was better to do it so, because Meg's initials are M.M., and I don't want anyone to use these but Marmee," said Beth, looking troubled.
"It's all right, dear, and a very pretty idea, quite sensible too, for no one can ever mistake now. It will please her very much, I know," said Meg, with a frown for Jo and a smile for Beth.
"There's Mother. Hide the basket, quick!" cried Jo, as a door slammed and steps sounded in the hall.
Amy came in hastily, and looked rather abashed when she saw her sisters all waiting for her.
"Where have you been, and what are you hiding behind you?" asked Meg, surprised to see, by her hood and cloak, that lazy Amy had been out so early.
"Don't laugh at me, Jo! I didn't mean anyone should know till the time came. I only meant to change the little bottle for a big one, and I gave all my money to get it, and I'm truly trying not to be selfish any more."
As she spoke, Amy showed the handsome flask which replaced the cheap one, and looked so earnest and humble in her little effort to forget herself that Meg hugged her on the spot, and Jo pronounced her 'a trump', while Beth ran to the window, and picked her finest rose to ornament the stately bottle.
"You see I felt ashamed of my present, after reading and talking about being good this morning, so I ran round the corner and changed it the minute I was up, and I'm so glad, for mine is the handsomest now."
Another bang of the street door sent the basket under the sofa, and the girls to the table, eager for breakfast.
"Merry Christmas, Marmee! Many of them! Thank you for our books. We read some, and mean to every day," they all cried in chorus.
"Merry Christmas, little daughters! I'm glad you began at once, and hope you will keep on. But I want to say one word before we sit down. Not far away from here lies a poor woman with a little newborn baby. Six children are huddled into one bed to keep from freezing, for they have no fire. There is nothing to eat over there, and the oldest boy came to tell me they were suffering hunger and cold. My girls, will you give them your breakfast as a Christmas present?"
They were all unusually hungry, having waited nearly an hour, and for a minute no one spoke, only a minute, for Jo exclaimed impetuously, "I'm so glad you came before we began!"
"May I go and help carry the things to the poor little children?" asked Beth eagerly.
"I shall take the cream and the muffings," added Amy, heroically giving up the article she most liked.
Meg was already covering the buckwheats, and piling the bread into one big plate.
"I thought you'd do it," said Mrs. March, smiling as if satisfied. "You shall all go and help me, and when we come back we will have bread and milk for breakfast, and make it up at dinnertime."
They were soon ready, and the procession set out. Fortunately it was early, and they went through back streets, so few people saw them, and no one laughed at the queer party.
A poor, bare, miserable room it was, with broken windows, no fire, ragged bedclothes, a sick mother, wailing baby, and a group of pale, hungry children cuddled under one old quilt, trying to keep warm.
How the big eyes stared and the blue lips smiled as the girls went in.
"Ach, mein Gott! It is good angels come to us!" said the poor woman, crying for joy.
"Funny angels in hoods and mittens," said Jo, and set them to laughing.
In a few minutes it really did seem as if kind spirits had been at work there. Hannah, who had carried wood, made a fire, and stopped up the broken panes with old hats and her own cloak. Mrs. March gave the mother tea and gruel, and comforted her with promises of help, while she dressed the little baby as tenderly as if it had been her own. The girls meantime spread the table, set the children round the fire, and fed them like so many hungry birds, laughing, talking, and trying to understand the funny broken English.
"Das ist gut!" "Die Engel-kinder!" cried the poor things as they ate and warmed their purple hands at the comfortable blaze. The girls had never been called angel children before, and thought it very agreeable, especially Jo, who had been considered a 'Sancho' ever since she was born. That was a very happy breakfast, though they didn't get any of it. And when they went away, leaving comfort behind, I think there were not in all the city four merrier people than the hungry little girls who gave away their breakfasts and contented themselves with bread and milk on Christmas morning.
"That's loving our neighbor better than ourselves, and I like it," said Meg, as they set out their presents while their mother was upstairs collecting clothes for the poor Hummels.
Not a very splendid show, but there was a great deal of love done up in the few little bundles, and the tall vase of red roses, white chrysanthemums, and trailing vines, which stood in the middle, gave quite an elegant air to the table.
"She's coming! Strike up, Beth! Open the door, Amy! Three cheers for Marmee!" cried Jo, prancing about while Meg went to conduct Mother to the seat of honor.
Beth played her gayest march, Amy threw open the door, and Meg enacted escort with great dignity. Mrs. March was both surprised and touched, and smiled with her eyes full as she examined her presents and read the little notes which accompanied them. The slippers went on at once, a new handkerchief was slipped into her pocket, well scented with Amy's cologne, the rose was fastened in her bosom, and the nice gloves were pronounced a perfect fit.
There was a good deal of laughing and kissing and explaining, in the simple, loving fashion which makes these home festivals so pleasant at the time, so sweet to remember long afterward, and then all fell to work.
The morning charities and ceremonies took so much time that the rest of the day was devoted to preparations for the evening festivities. Being still too young to go often to the theater, and not rich enough to afford any great outlay for private performances, the girls put their wits to work, and necessity being the mother of invention, made whatever they needed. Very clever were some of their productions, pasteboard guitars, antique lamps made of old-fashioned butter boats covered with silver paper, gorgeous robes of old cotton, glittering with tin spangles from a pickle factory, and armor covered with the same useful diamond shaped bits left in sheets when the lids of preserve pots were cut out. The big chamber was the scene of many innocent revels.
No gentleman were admitted, so Jo played male parts to her heart's content and took immense satisfaction in a pair of russet leather boots given her by a friend, who knew a lady who knew an actor. These boots, an old foil, and a slashed doublet once used by an artist for some picture, were Jo's chief treasures and appeared on all occasions. The smallness of the company made it necessary for the two principal actors to take several parts apiece, and they certainly deserved some credit for the hard work they did in learning three or four different parts, whisking in and out of various costumes, and managing the stage besides. It was excellent drill for their memories, a harmless amusement, and employed many hours which otherwise would have been idle, lonely, or spent in less profitable society.
On christmas night, a dozen girls piled onto the bed which was the dress circle, and sat before the blue and yellow chintz curtains in a most flattering state of expectancy. There was a good deal of rustling and whispering behind the curtain, a trifle of lamp smoke, and an occasional giggle from Amy, who was apt to get hysterical in the excitement of the moment. Presently a bell sounded, the curtains flew apart, and the _operatic tragedy_ began.
"A gloomy wood," according to the one playbill, was represented by a few shrubs in pots, green baize on the floor, and a cave in the distance. This cave was made with a clothes horse for a roof, bureaus for walls, and in it was a small furnace in full blast, with a black pot on it and an old witch bending over it. The stage was dark and the glow of the furnace had a fine effect, especially as real steam issued from the kettle when the witch took off the cover. A moment was allowed for the first thrill to subside, then Hugo, the villain, stalked in with a clanking sword at his side, a slouching hat, black beard, mysterious cloak, and the boots. After pacing to and fro in much agitation, he struck his forehead, and burst out in a wild strain, singing of his hatred for Roderigo, his love for Zara, and his pleasing resolution to kill the one and win the other. The gruff tones of Hugo's voice, with an occasional shout when his feelings overcame him, were very impressive, and the audience applauded the moment he paused for breath. Bowing with the air of one accustomed to public praise, he stole to the cavern and ordered Hagar to come forth with a commanding, "What ho, minion! I need thee!"
Out came Meg, with gray horsehair hanging about her face, a red and black robe, a staff, and cabalistic signs upon her cloak. Hugo demanded a potion to make Zara adore him, and one to destroy Roderigo. Hagar, in a fine dramatic melody, promised both, and proceeded to call up the spirit who would bring the love philter.
Hither, hither, from thy home, Airy sprite, I bid thee come! Born of roses, fed on dew, Charms and potions canst thou brew? Bring me here, with elfin speed, The fragrant philter which I need. Make it sweet and swift and strong, Spirit, answer now my song!
A soft strain of music sounded, and then at the back of the cave appeared a little figure in cloudy white, with glittering wings, golden hair, and a garland of roses on its head. Waving a wand, it sang . . .
Hither I come, From my airy home, Afar in the silver moon. Take the magic spell, And use it well, Or its power will vanish soon!
And dropping a small, gilded bottle at the witch's feet, the spirit vanished. Another chant from Hagar produced another apparition, not a lovely one, for with a bang an ugly black imp appeared and, having croaked a reply, tossed a dark bottle at Hugo and disappeared with a mocking laugh. Having warbled his thanks and put the potions in his boots, Hugo departed, and Hagar informed the audience that as he had killed a few of her friends in times past, she had cursed him, and intends to thwart his plans, and be revenged on him. Then the curtain fell, and the audience reposed and ate candy while discussing the merits of the play.
A good deal of hammering went on before the curtain rose again, but when it became evident what a masterpiece of stage carpentery had been got up, no one murmured at the delay. It was truly superb. A tower rose to the ceiling, halfway up appeared a window with a lamp burning in it, and behind the white curtain appeared Zara in a lovely blue and silver dress, waiting for Roderigo. He came in gorgeous array, with plumed cap, red cloak, chestnut lovelocks, a guitar, and the boots, of course. Kneeling at the foot of the tower, he sang a serenade in melting tones. Zara replied and, after a musical dialogue, consented to fly. Then came the grand effect of the play. Roderigo produced a rope ladder, with five steps to it, threw up one end, and invited Zara to descend. Timidly she crept from her lattice, put her hand on Roderigo's shoulder, and was about to leap gracefully down when "Alas! Alas for Zara!" she forgot her train. It caught in the window, the tower tottered, leaned forward, fell with a crash, and buried the unhappy lovers in the ruins.
A universal shriek arose as the russet boots waved wildly from the wreck and a golden head emerged, exclaiming, "I told you so! I told you so!" With wonderful presence of mind, Don Pedro, the cruel sire, rushed in, dragged out his daughter, with a hasty aside . . .
"Don't laugh! Act as if it was all right!" and, ordering Roderigo up, banished him from the kingdom with wrath and scorn. Though decidedly shaken by the fall from the tower upon him, Roderigo defied the old gentleman and refused to stir. This dauntless example fired Zara. She also defied her sire, and he ordered them both to the deepest dungeons of the castle. A stout little retainer came in with chains and led them away, looking very much frightened and evidently forgetting the speech he ought to have made.
Act third was the castle hall, and here Hagar appeared, having come to free the lovers and finish Hugo. She hears him coming and hides, sees him put the potions into two cups of wine and bid the timid little servant, "Bear them to the captives in their cells, and tell them I shall come anon." The servant takes Hugo aside to tell him something, and Hagar changes the cups for two others which are harmless. Ferdinando, the 'minion', carries them away, and Hagar puts back the cup which holds the poison meant for Roderigo. Hugo, getting thirsty after a long warble, drinks it, loses his wits, and after a good deal of clutching and stamping, falls flat and dies, while Hagar informs him what she has done in a song of exquisite power and melody.
This was a truly thrilling scene, though some persons might have thought that the sudden tumbling down of a quantity of long red hair rather marred the effect of the villain's death. He was called before the curtain, and with great propriety appeared, leading Hagar, whose singing was considered more wonderful than all the rest of the performance put together.
Act fourth displayed the despairing Roderigo on the point of stabbing himself because he has been told that Zara has deserted him. Just as the dagger is at his heart, a lovely song is sung under his window, informing him that Zara is true but in danger, and he can save her if he will. A key is thrown in, which unlocks the door, and in a spasm of rapture he tears off his chains and rushes away to find and rescue his lady love.
Act fifth opened with a stormy scene between Zara and Don Pedro. He wishes her to go into a convent, but she won't hear of it, and after a touching appeal, is about to faint when Roderigo dashes in and demands her hand. Don Pedro refuses, because he is not rich. They shout and gesticulate tremendously but cannot agree, and Rodrigo is about to bear away the exhausted Zara, when the timid servant enters with a letter and a bag from Hagar, who has mysteriously disappeared. The latter informs the party that she bequeaths untold wealth to the young pair and an awful doom to Don Pedro, if he doesn't make them happy. The bag is opened, and several quarts of tin money shower down upon the stage till it is quite glorified with the glitter. This entirely softens the stern sire. He consents without a murmur, all join in a joyful chorus, and the curtain falls upon the lovers kneeling to receive Don Pedro's blessing in attitudes of the most romantic grace.
Tumultuous applause followed but received an unexpected check, for the cot bed, on which the dress circle was built, suddenly shut up and extinguished the enthusiastic audience. Roderigo and Don Pedro flew to the rescue, and all were taken out unhurt, though many were speechless with laughter. The excitement had hardly subsided when Hannah appeared, with "Mrs. March's compliments, and would the ladies walk down to supper."
This was a surprise even to the actors, and when they saw the table, they looked at one another in rapturous amazement. It was like Marmee to get up a little treat for them, but anything so fine as this was unheard of since the departed days of plenty. There was ice cream, actually two dishes of it, pink and white, and cake and fruit and distracting french bonbons and, in the middle of the table, four great bouquets of hot house flowers.
It quite took their breath away, and they stared first at the table and then at their mother, who looked as if she enjoyed it immensely.
"Is it fairies?" asked Amy.
"Santa Claus," said Beth.
"Mother did it." And Meg smiled her sweetest, in spite of her gray beard and white eyebrows.
"Aunt March had a good fit and sent the supper," cried Jo, with a sudden inspiration.
"All wrong. Old Mr. Laurence sent it," replied Mrs. March.
"The Laurence boy's grandfather! What in the world put such a thing into his head? We don't know him!" exclaimed Meg.
"Hannah told one of his servants about your breakfast party. He is an odd old gentleman, but that pleased him. He knew my father years ago, and he sent me a polite note this afternoon, saying he hoped I would allow him to express his friendly feeling toward my children by sending them a few trifles in honor of the day. I could not refuse, and so you have a little feast at night to make up for the bread-and-milk breakfast."
"That boy put it into his head, I know he did! He's a capital fellow, and I wish we could get acquainted. He looks as if he'd like to know us but he's bashful, and Meg is so prim she won't let me speak to him when we pass," said Jo, as the plates went round, and the ice began to melt out of sight, with ohs and ahs of satisfaction.
"You mean the people who live in the big house next door, don't you?" asked one of the girls. "My mother knows old Mr. Laurence, but says he's very proud and doesn't like to mix with his neighbors. He keeps his grandson shut up, when he isn't riding or walking with his tutor, and makes him study very hard. We invited him to our party, but he didn't come. Mother says he's very nice, though he never speaks to us girls."
"Our cat ran away once, and he brought her back, and we talked over the fence, and were getting on capitally, all about cricket, and so on, when he saw Meg coming, and walked off. I mean to know him some day, for he needs fun, I'm sure he does," said Jo decidedly.
"I like his manners, and he looks like a little gentleman, so I've no objection to your knowing him, if a proper opportunity comes. He brought the flowers himself, and I should have asked him in, if I had been sure what was going on upstairs. He looked so wistful as he went away, hearing the frolic and evidently having none of his own."
"It's a mercy you didn't, Mother!" laughed Jo, looking at her boots. "But we'll have another play sometime that he can see. Perhaps he'll help act. Wouldn't that be jolly?"
"I never had such a fine bouquet before! How pretty it is!" And Meg examined her flowers with great interest.
"They are lovely. But Beth's roses are sweeter to me," said Mrs. March, smelling the half-dead posy in her belt.
Beth nestled up to her, and whispered softly, "I wish I could send my bunch to Father. I'm afraid he isn't having such a merry Christmas as we are."