Kitobni o'qish: «Питер Пен / Peter Pan»

Адаптация текста, упражнения, комментарии и словарь С. А. Матвеева

© ООО «Издательство АСТ», 2020

Chapter 1
Peter Breaks Through¹

All children, except one, grow up. They soon know that they will grow up. Wendy knew this, too. One day when she was two years old she was playing in a garden, and she plucked a flower and ran with it to her mother. Mrs. Darling cried, “Oh, why can’t you remain like this forever!” But Wendy knew that she must grow up.

There were three children in the family: Wendy, John, and Michael. The Darlings were poor, and the nurse for the children was a dog, called Nana. She was an excellent nurse. Of course her kennel was in the nursery. The nursery was wide and airy, with a large window, and a bright fire with a high fire-guard round it, and a big clock, and nursery-rhyme pictures over the walls. There never was a happier family² until the coming of Peter Pan.

Mrs. Darling first heard of Peter when she was putting her children to bed. She knew of no Peter³, and yet he was here and there in John and Michael and Wendy’s minds. Children often talked about the island of Neverland⁴ and Peter Pan who lived there.

Mrs. Darling remembered Peter Pan who lived with the fairies, they said. There were odd stories about him. She believed in him when she was a girl, but now that she was married she doubted whether there was any such person⁵.

“Besides,” she said to Wendy, “he is adult now.”

“Oh no, he isn’t grown up,” Wendy assured her confidently, “and he is just my size.” She meant that he was her size in both mind and body; she didn’t know how she knew, she just knew it.

Mrs. Darling consulted Mr. Darling, but he just smiled. “It is some nonsense,” he said.

On the night on which our story begins, Nana was dozing peacefully by the fireside, with her head between her paws. All the children were in bed.

Nana got up, and stretched herself, and carefully switched on the electric light. She managed to do that⁶ with her mouth. Then she turned the bed-clothes neatly down and hung the little pyjamas over the fire-guard. She then trotted up to the bathroom and turned on the water.

Nana was an excellent nurse!

Mrs. Darling was sewing by the fireplace. It was something for Michael’s birthday. The fire was warm, her head nodded.

While she slept she had a dream. She dreamt that the Neverland had come too near and that a strange boy came from it.

While Mrs. Darling was dreaming, she heard a wee noise outside the window, as a tiny figure, no bigger than a little boy, tried the window-latch. The window of the nursery blew open, and the boy dropped on the floor. He was accompanied by a strange light. She opened her eyes, and saw the boy, and she knew at once that he was Peter Pan. He was a lovely boy, clad in skeleton leaves⁷. When he saw she was a grown-up, he gnashed his white teeth at her.

Chapter 2
The Shadow

Mrs. Darling screamed, and, as if⁸ in answer to a bell, the door opened, and Nana entered. She growled and sprang at the boy, who leapt through the window. Again Mrs. Darling screamed, and she ran down into the street to look for his little body, but it was not there; and she looked up, and in the black night she could see a shooting star⁹.

She returned to the nursery, and found Nana with something in her mouth. It was the boy’s shadow. As he leapt at the window Nana closed it quickly, too late to catch him, but his shadow had no time to get out.

Mrs. Darling examined the shadow carefully. She folded it and put it away. Mrs. Darling decided to show it to Mr. Darling.

Something strange happened a week later, on Friday.

“I won’t go to bed,” shouted Michael, “I won’t, I won’t. Nana, it isn’t six o’clock yet. Oh dear, oh dear, I shan’t love you any more, Nana. I tell you, I won’t, I won’t!”

Then Mrs. Darling came in, wearing her white evening-gown. She was wearing Wendy’s bracelet on her arm; Wendy loved to lend her bracelet to her mother.

John and Wendy were playing at their favourite game of being Father and Mother¹⁰. Then Mr. Darling appeared. Mr. Darling was very much excited because he could not fasten his evening tie (evening ties are difficult things to fasten, you know). Mrs. Darling easily managed that for him. She decided to tell him about the boy. At first he smiled, but he became thoughtful when she showed him the shadow.

“It is nobody I know,” he said, examining it carefully, “but it does look a scoundrel.”

“We were still discussing it, you remember,” says Mr. Darling, “when Nana came in with Michael’s medicine. You will never carry the bottle in your mouth again, Nana, and it is all my fault.”

Unfortunately, in going to the bathroom, Nana accidentally brushed against Mr. Darling’s beautifully pressed black trousers, and left some of her grey clinging hairs upon them. Now no grown-up person likes hairy trousers, so Mr. Darling was very rude with Nana.

Mrs. Darling told her husband how glad she was to have such a treasure as Nana for a nurse. “You see how very useful Nana is,” concluded Mrs. Darling, as the faithful dog came in with Michael’s bottle of cough mixture. But Michael refused to take his medicine. “Won’t; won’t!” Michael cried naughtily. Mrs. Darling left the room to get a chocolate for him.

“Michael, when I was your age,” said Mr. Darling, “I took medicine without a murmur. I said, ‘Thank you, kind parents, for giving me bottles to make me well¹¹.’”

He really thought this was true, and Wendy believed it also, and she said, to encourage Michael, “That medicine you sometimes take, father, is much nastier, isn’t it?”

“Ever so much nastier¹²,” Mr. Darling said bravely, “and I am ready to take it now as an example to you, Michael, but I lost the bottle.”

He did not exactly lose it; he climbed in the night to the top of the wardrobe and hid it there. What he did not know was that the faithful Liza found it, and put it back on his table.

“I know where it is, father,” Wendy cried. “I’ll bring it!”

“Very well,” said Mr. Darling, “we shall see who is the braver.”

Wendy returned with the medicine in a glass.

“You were wonderfully quick,” her father said. “Michael first,” he added doggedly.

“Father first,” said Michael, who was very suspicious.

“Come on, father,” said John.

“Hold your tongue¹³, John.”

Wendy was quite puzzled. “I thought you took it quite easily, father.”

“That is not the point¹⁴,” he retorted. “The point is, that there is more in my glass than in Michael’s spoon. And it isn’t fair.”

“Father, I am waiting,” said Michael coldly.

“It’s all very well to say you are waiting; so am I waiting.”

“Father’s a cowardly custard¹⁵.”

“So are you a cowardly custard.”

“I’m not frightened.”

“Neither am I frightened.”

“Well, then, take it.”

“Well, then, you take it.”

Wendy had a splendid idea. “Why not both take it at the same time?”

“Certainly,” said Mr. Darling. “Are you ready, Michael?”

“One, two, three,” cried Wendy; Michael took his medicine like a man, but Mr. Darling only pretended to, and quietly hid the glass behind his back.

John cried, “Father didn’t take his!”

“O father!” Wendy exclaimed.

“What do you mean by ‘O father’?” Mr. Darling demanded. “I wanted to take my medicine, but I – I did not have enough time.”

“Look here, all of you,” he said, as soon as¹⁶ Nana went into the bathroom. “I have a splendid joke. I shall pour my medicine into Nana’s bowl, and she will drink it, thinking it is milk!”

It was the colour of milk; but the children did not have their father’s sense of humour, and they looked at him reproachfully as he poured the medicine into Nana’s bowl. Mrs. Darling and Nana returned.

“Nana, good dog,” he said, “I put some milk into your bowl, Nana.”

Nana wagged her tail, ran to the medicine, and began to lap it. Then she gave Mrs. Darling such a look, not an angry look: she showed him the great red tear, and crept into her kennel.

The children, who loved their old nurse very dearly, were terribly distressed. Mr. Darling smelt the bowl. “O George,” she said, “it’s your medicine!”

“It was only a joke,” he answered, and Wendy hugged Nana.

“Oh, that dog…” cried Mr. Darling. “I refuse to allow that dog to rule in my nursery! The proper place for this dog is the yard…”

Mr. Darling, angry that they did not enjoy his joke, coaxed Nana out of her kennel, seized her by the collar and dragged her off in disgrace. The children wept, but he felt he was a strong man again.

“George, George,” Mrs. Darling whispered, “remember what I told you about that boy.”

But he wanted to show who was the master in that house. He was ashamed of himself, but he took Nana and brought the dog outdoor.

Mrs. Darling put the children to bed in silence and lit their night-lights. Nana was barking, and John whimpered, “It is because he is chaining her up in the yard,” but Wendy was wiser.

“No,” she said, “that is her bark when she smells danger.”

Danger!

“Are you sure, Wendy?”

“Oh, yes.”

Mrs. Darling went to the window. It was securely fastened. She looked out, the stars were crowding round the house.

Michael asked, “Can anything harm us, mother, after the night-lights are lit?”

“Nothing, precious,” she said; “they are the eyes a mother leaves behind her to guard her children.”

Michael flung his arms round her. “Mother,” he cried, “I’m glad of you¹⁷.”

They were the last words she heard from him.

She comforted the children, kissed them very tenderly as mothers always do, sang them to sleep and crept softly out of the room to go to the dinner-party with Mr. Darling. When they were going to the party, all the stars were watching them. When the door of the house closed, the smallest of all the stars in the Milky Way¹⁸ screamed out:

“Now, Peter!¹⁹”

Chapter 3
Come Away, Come Away!²⁰

The night-lights by the beds of the three children continued to burn clearly. But there was another light in the room now, a thousand times brighter than the night-lights. It was not really a light; it was a fairy, no longer than your hand. It was a girl called Tinker Bell²¹. The window was blown open²², and Peter dropped in. “Tinker Bell,” he called softly, “Tink, where are you?” She was in a jug.

“Oh, come out of that jug, and tell me, do you know where they put my shadow?”

Tink said that the shadow was in the big box. In a moment Peter recovered his shadow, and in his delight he forgot that he shut Tinker Bell up in the drawer.

Peter found his shadow certainly, but the next trouble was to put it on again.

A happy thought came to him; it is necessary to use the soap from the bathroom! He soaped his shadow, but the shadow and his body did not stick together. He was trying and trying to stick the shadow, but no luck. Poor little boy sat on the floor, and began to cry.

His sobs woke Wendy, and she sat up in bed. She saw a stranger crying on the nursery floor; she was interested.

“Boy,” she said courteously, “why are you crying?”

Peter could be polite also, and he rose and bowed to her beautifully. She was much pleased, and bowed beautifully to him from the bed.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Wendy Moira Angela Darling²³,” she replied. “What is your name?”

“Peter Pan.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes,” he said rather sharply. He felt for the first time that it was a very short name.

“I’m so sorry,” said Wendy Moira Angela.

“It doesn’t matter,” Peter gulped.

“Where do you live?”

“Second turning to the right, and straight on till morning²⁴.”

This seemed to Wendy a very funny address, but she was all sympathy when she heard that Peter had no mother. No wonder he was crying!

“Why were you crying?”

“I was crying because I can’t get my shadow to stick on²⁵. Besides, I wasn’t crying.”

Then Wendy saw the shadow on the floor. She smiled, and she emphatically declared that soap was no good.

“I shall sew it on for you” she said, and she got out her sewing bag, and sewed the shadow on to Peter’s foot.

It was the right thing to do, for the shadow held on beautifully, and Peter was so delighted that he began to dance.

“How clever I am!” cried Peter.

The conceit of Peter was one of his most fascinating qualities. Wendy was shocked. “You conceit!²⁶,” she exclaimed, with frightful sarcasm; “of course I did nothing!” “You did a little,” Peter said carelessly, and continued to dance.

“A little!” she replied; “if I am no use I can at least withdraw,” and she sprang into bed and covered her face with the blankets.

“Oh! Wendy, please don’t withdraw,” Peter exclaimed in great distress “I am very sorry.

Wendy, one girl is more use than twenty boys.” This was rather clever of Peter, and at these sensible words Wendy got up again. Wendy peeped out of the bed-clothes.

“Do you really think so, Peter?” “Yes, I do.” Wendy smiled. She even offered to give Peter a kiss if he liked. But the poor boy did not even know what a kiss was. Wendy decided to give him a thimble.

Peter admired the thimble very much. “Shall I give you a kiss?” he asked and, jerking a button off his coat, solemnly presented it to her.

Wendy at once fastened it on a chain which she wore round her neck. Afterwards it saved her life.

“Peter, how old are you?” asked Wendy.

“I don’t know, but quite young. I ran away the day I was born.”

Wendy was quite surprised, but interested.

“Ran away – why?”

“Because I heard my father and mother talking about what I was to be when I became a man. I don’t want to be a man. I want always to be a little boy and have fun. So I ran away and lived among the fairies.”

After a minute Wendy said, “Peter, do you really know fairies?”

“Yes, but they’re nearly all dead now. You see, Wendy, when the first baby laughed for the first time, its laugh broke into a thousand pieces, and that was the beginning of fairies. And now, whenever a new baby is born, its first laugh becomes a fairy. Children soon won’t believe in fairies, and whenever a child says, ‘I don’t believe in fairies,’ there’s a fairy somewhere that falls down dead²⁷.”

Really, he thought they now talked enough about fairies. He looked about the room and it struck him that Tinker Bell disappeared! He called Tink by name.

“Peter,” cried Wendy, “is there a fairy in this room?”

“She was here just now,” he said a little impatiently. “You don’t hear her, do you?” and they both listened.

“The only sound I hear,” said Wendy, “is like a tinkle of bells.”

Peter, who knew the fairy language, of course understood it.

“Well, that’s Tink, that’s the fairy language. I think I hear her too.”

The sound came from the chest of drawers²⁸, and Peter made a merry face.

“Wendy,” he whispered, “I shut her up in the drawer!”

He pulled open the drawer, and out sprang Tinker Bell, very angry with him.

“Of course I’m very sorry, but how could I know you were in the drawer?”

Wendy saw the romantic figure on the cuckoo clock. “O the lovely!” she cried, though Tink’s face was still distorted with passion.

“Tink,” said Peter amiably, “this lady says she wishes you were her fairy.”

Tinker Bell answered insolently.

“What does she say, Peter?”

“She is not very polite. She says you are a great ugly girl, and that she is my fairy.”

He tried to argue with Tink. “You know you can’t be my fairy, Tink, because I am an gentleman and you are a lady.”

Tink disappeared into the bathroom. “She is quite a common fairy,” Peter explained.

They were together in the armchair by this time, and Wendy plied him with more questions.

“Peter, if you don’t live with the fairies, where do you live?”

“I live with the Lost Boys.”

“Who are they?”

“They are the children who fall out of their perambulators when the nurse is looking the other way²⁹. If they are not claimed³⁰ in seven days they are sent far away to the Neverland to defray expenses. I’m their Captain.”

“Oh! What fun!”

“Yes,” said Peter, “but we are rather lonely. You see we have no girls there.”

“Are none of the others girls?”

“Oh, no; girls, you know, are much too clever to fall out of their prams.”

“You are very kind,” said Wendy, “so you may give me a kiss. It’s like this.” She kissed him.

“Funny!” said Peter gravely. “Now shall I give you a kiss?”

“If you wish to,” said Wendy.

But suddenly Wendy cried, “Somebody was pulling my hair.”

“That must be Tink. I never knew her so naughty before.”

“Oh! But, Peter, why did you come to our nursery window?”

“You see, I don’t know any stories. None of the Lost Boys knows any stories.”

“How perfectly awful,” Wendy said.

Peter came to listen to the lovely stories Wendy’s mother related to her children, for the Lost Boys had no mothers, and no one to tell them any stories. He also told her how he led them against their enemies, the pirates and the wolves, and how they liked to bath in the Lagoon, where beautiful mermaids sang and swam all day long.

“O Wendy, your mother was telling you such a lovely story!”

“Which story was it?”

“About the prince who couldn’t find the lady who wore the glass slipper.”

“Peter,” said Wendy excitedly, “that was Cinderella³¹, and he found her, and they lived happily ever after.”

Peter was so glad that he rose from the floor, where they were sitting, and hurried to the window.

“Where are you going?” she cried.

“I must go back now, the boys will be anxious to hear the end of the story about the Prince and the Glass Slipper. I told them as much as I knew, and they want to hear the rest³².”

“Don’t go Peter,” she entreated, “I know such lots of stories. I’ll tell you lots more, ever so many stories.”

Wendy begged him to stay. He came back, and there was a greedy look in his eyes. Peter gripped her and began to draw her toward the window.

“Let me go!³³” she ordered him.

“Come, Wendy! Come with me and tell the other boys. You can tell us all the stories there, and darn our clothes, and tuck us in at night.”

“Oh dear, I can’t. Think of Mummy! Besides, I can’t fly.”

“I’ll teach you. I’ll teach you how to jump on the wind’s back, and then away we go.”

This was too much for her. “Oo!” she exclaimed.

“Wendy, Wendy, when you are sleeping in your silly bed you could fly with me and talk to the stars.”

“Oo!”

“And, Wendy, there are mermaids.”

“Mermaids! With tails?”

“Such long tails.”

“Oh,” cried Wendy, “to see a mermaid!”

“Wendy,” said Peter, “we shall all respect you.”

“Peter, will you teach John and Michael to fly as well?”

“Yes, if you like,” he said indifferently, and she ran to John and Michael and shook them. “Wake up,” she cried, “Peter Pan is here, and he will teach us to fly.”

John rubbed his eyes. “Then I shall get up,” he said. Of course he was on the floor already. “Hallo,” he said. Michael woke up, too.

“Peter,” asked John. “Can you really fly?”

Peter flew around the room.

“How sweet!³⁴” cried Wendy.

“Yes, I’m sweet, oh, I am sweet!” said Peter.

Children tried to fly from the floor and then from the beds, but they always went down instead of up.

“How do you do it?” asked John. He was quite a practical boy.

“I must blow the fairy dust on you,” and Peter blew some on each of them.

“Now just wiggle your shoulders,” he said, “and let go.”

So they tried, and found that they could fly; just a little at first, from the bed to the floor and back again; then over the bed and across the room. “Oh, lovely! We can fly! Look at me!”

“Look at me!”

“Look at me!”

“Let’s fly out!” cried John.

Michael was ready, but Wendy hesitated.

“Mermaids!” said Peter again.

“Oo!”

“And there are pirates.”

“Pirates,” cried John “let us go at once³⁵.”

“Tink, lead the way!” called Peter. None of the children had time to put on their day clothes, but John snatched his top hat as he flew out of the window, followed by Michael. Peter Pan held Wendy’s hand, and away they floated into the dark blue depths of the starry night.

A minute afterwards Mrs. Darling, who returned from the party, rushed into the nursery with Nana. But it was too late. The children were already on their way to the Neverland.