Читать книгу Little Vampire Women - Луиза Мэй Олкотт, Луиза Мэй Олкотт, Lynn Messina - Страница 7

“Jo! Jo! Where are you?” cried Meg at the foot of the garret stairs.

“Here!” answered a husky voice from above, and, running up, Meg found her sister deeply engrossed in a well-worn copy of The Seven Signs of a Vampire Slayer and How to Spot One,⁶ curled up in an old three-legged sofa by the window. This was Jo’s favourite refuge, and here she loved to retire with a nice book, to enjoy the quiet and the society of a pet rat who lived nearby and didn’t mind her a particle. As Meg appeared, Scrabble whisked into his hole. This Scrabble was in fact the eighteenth such one, for Jo could never long resist the easy lure of a close-by snack when feeling peckish. The kitchens were several floors below, and despite her superior vampire strength she could rarely bestir herself to make the long journey downstairs.

“Such fun! Only see! A regular note of invitation from Mrs Gardiner for tomorrow night!” cried Meg, waving the precious paper and then proceeding to read it with girlish delight.

“‘Mrs Gardiner would be happy to see Miss March and Miss Josephine at a little dance on New Year’s Eve.’ Marmee is willing we should go, now what shall we wear?”

“What’s the use of asking that, when you know we shall wear our poplins, because we haven’t got anything else?” answered Jo.

“If I only had a silk!” sighed Meg.

“I’m sure our pops look like silk, and they are nice enough for us. Yours is as good as new, but I forgot the burn in mine. Whatever shall I do? The burn shows badly.”

“You must sit still all you can and keep your back out of sight. The front is all right. I shall have a new ribbon for my hair, and Marmee will lend me her little pearl pin, and my new slippers are lovely, and my gloves will do, though they aren’t as nice as I’d like.”

“Mine are spoiled with blood, and I can’t get any new ones, so I shall have to go without,” said Jo, who never troubled herself much about dress.

“You must have gloves, or I won’t go,” cried Meg decidedly. “Gloves are more important than anything else. You can’t dance without them, and if you don’t I should be so mortified.”

“Then I’ll stay still. I don’t care much for company dancing. It’s no fun to go sailing round. I like to fly about and cut capers.”

“You can’t ask Mother for new ones, they are so expensive, and you are so careless. She said when you spoiled the others that she shouldn’t get you any more this winter. Can’t you make them do?”

“I can hold them crumpled up in my hand, so no one will know how stained they are. That’s all I can do. No! I’ll tell you how we can manage, each wear one good one and carry a bad one. Don’t you see?”

“Your hands are bigger than mine, and you will stretch my glove dreadfully,” began Meg, whose gloves were a tender point with her.

“Then I’ll go without. I don’t care what people say!” cried Jo, taking up her book.

“You may have it, you may! Only don’t stain it, and do behave nicely.”

On New Year’s Eve the parlour was deserted, for the two younger girls played dressing maids and the two elder were absorbed in the all-important business of “getting ready for the party”. Simple as the toilets were, there was a great deal of running up and down, laughing and talking.

After various mishaps, Meg was finished at last, and by the united exertions of the entire family Jo’s hair was got up and her dress on. They looked very well in their simple suits, Meg’s in silvery drab, with a blue velvet snood, lace frills and the pearl pin. Jo in maroon, with a stiff, gentlemanly linen collar and a white chrysanthemum or two for her only ornament. Each put on one nice light glove, and carried one soiled one, and all pronounced the effect “quite easy and fine”. Meg’s high-heeled slippers were very tight and awkward to walk in, though she would not own it, and Jo’s nineteen hairpins all seemed stuck straight into her head. This was not at all comfortable but necessary should vampire slayers attack the party, for the hairpins were dipped in poison and doubled as paralysing darts.

“Have a good time, dearies!” said Mrs March, as the sisters went daintily down the walk. “Don’t eat much supper, and come away at five when I send Hannah for you.”

Down they went, feeling a trifle timid, for they seldom went to parties, and informal as this little gathering was, it was an event to them. Mrs Gardiner, a stately old vampire lady, greeted them kindly as they passed through the area set apart for the screening of weapons. The March girls were from an old and established family, but even they had to submit to an examination by Pinkerton agents.⁷ Everyone did, as the company was mixed and no hostess wanted to inadvertently admit a slayer to her party, for not only was it personally mortifying for a vampire to be slain at your soiree, it was very damaging socially.

Like all society matrons, Mrs Gardiner welcomed nonvampires into her drawing rooms, for some of the oldest families in the neighbourhood were human, making interaction unavoidable. The two groups rubbed together tolerably well, united by a common purpose to keep newcomers out of their circle, and disagreements over a missing servant or an unfair accusation of colluding with slayers broke out only rarely. Although Mrs Gardiner considered humans to be inferior to her in every way, those of exceptional social standing at the party had nothing to fear from her and her kind. It was the height of rudeness to dine on your guests, particularly if they were your social equal. Likewise, it was unforgivably vulgar to stake your host.

The poor were not afforded the same courtesy and frequently fended off attacks from vampires and nonvampires alike, both of whom fed on them, the former literally, the other metaphorically. For centuries, vampire philosophers had argued that their treatment of humans was kinder; they took only the blood in their veins. Nonvampires took the sweat of their brow, the fire in their belly and the joy in their heart.

Slayers swore nobly to protect the desperate and the destitute from predators, but in targeting vampires only, they revealed their bigotry. Some vampires were indeed the cruel and thoughtless killing machines that many in the sensationalistic press⁸ portrayed them to be, but what of the factory owner or the slave holder? Were they not also cruel and thoughtless? Yet they were exempt from retribution.

Jo, like her mother, knew vampire slayers were mere vigilantes. They dispensed justice as they saw fit, which naturally made it the opposite of just. Marmee’s way of helping the poor, providing them with food and shelter and solace, was the only method to save them from their despair. If the system itself was broken, it needed to be changed from the inside; randomly selecting vampires to assassinate wasn’t the answer.

When the March girls were cleared by the security agents, Mrs Gardiner handed them over to the eldest of her six daughters. Meg knew Sallie and was at her ease very soon, but Jo, who didn’t care much for girls or girlish gossip, stood about, with her back carefully against the wall, and felt as much out of place as a colt in a flower garden. A big redheaded youth approached her corner, and fearing he meant to engage her, she slipped into a curtained recess, intending to peep and enjoy herself in peace. Unfortunately, another bashful person had chosen the same refuge, for, as the curtain fell behind her, she found herself face to face with the “Laurence boy”.

“Dear me, I didn’t know anyone was here!” stammered Jo, preparing to back out as speedily as she had bounced in.

But the boy laughed and said pleasantly, though he looked a little startled, “Don’t mind me, stay if you like.” “Shan’t I disturb you?”

“Not a bit. I only came here because I don’t know many people and felt rather strange at first, you know.”

“So did I. Don’t go away, please, unless you’d rather.”

The boy sat down again and looked at his pumps, ⁹ till Jo said, trying to be polite and easy, “I think I’ve had the pleasure of seeing you before. You live near us, don’t you?”

“Next door, Miss March.”

“Oh, I am not Miss March, I’m only Jo,” returned the young lady.

“I’m not Mr Laurence, I’m only Laurie.”

“Laurie Laurence, what an odd name.”

“My first name is Theodore, but I don’t like it, for the fellows called me Dora, so I made them say Laurie instead.”

“I hate my name too, so sentimental! I wish everyone would say Jo instead of Josephine. How did you make the boys stop calling you Dora?”

“I thrashed ’em.”

“I can’t thrash Aunt March,” Jo said, although of course technically she could, for she led her sisters in the study of boxing and karate every morning in the attic room. “So I suppose I shall have to bear it.”

“Don’t you like to dance, Miss Jo?” asked Laurie, looking as if he thought the name suited her.

“I like it well enough if there is plenty of room, and everyone is lively. In a place like this I’m sure to upset something, tread on people’s toes, or do something dreadful. I’d much rather stay apart and watch for slayers.”

“Do slayers typically disrupt house parties? I’ve been abroad a good many years, and haven’t been into company enough yet to know how you do things here.”

“Not too often,” she said. “Thorough screening usually ensures peaceful evenings. But it does happen upon occasion. Just last month, the Phillipses‘ party was brought to a premature close when the host, Mr Phillips, was staked in his own ballroom. It was during the dancing, so everyone was very upset, especially his daughter Leticia, as she was about to have her first waltz.”

“Did they catch the culprit?”

“He escaped through the window while everyone was watching poor Mr Phillips’s guts explode all over the carpet. I don’t know if you’ve seen many stakings, but it’s a dreadful business. The maids always complain about how difficult it is to get melted flesh out of the curtains.”

At the words melted flesh, the boy’s eyes glowed. “I’ve never seen a staking. What’s it like?”

“Very unpleasant all around,” she said. “Staking is a terrible way to go. I’d much rather be decapitated. It still makes an awful mess but it’s a lot more dignified than your limbs twittering all over the place.” She shook her arms in approximation and Laurie laughed, appreciating her humour. Jo liked him tremendously, for most of the human boys she knew were particular about vampires and would rather be slayers than friends, which is why she counted so few of them among her acquaintance.

“I’ve never thought about it before, but I suppose I’d like to be decapitated too,” Laurie said. “One nice clean chop!”

“Oh, but the chops are rarely clean. Usually it takes several whacks before the connection is cut. You have to have a really sharp battle-axe.”

“I’ll remember that,” he said, then paled and stuttered, “N-not… th-that I plan on decapitating any vampires. I like them immensely. I’d love to be one myself.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I won’t bite you. I’m a strict humanitarian, so it’s against my religion to eat humans. We stick to pig’s blood and have small animals only on very special occasions. My sister Beth loves kittens.”

“I’ve never met a humanitarian before. There aren’t any in Europe.”

“There aren’t a lot around here either. Just me and my sisters and my parents. It’s no big deal. I don’t even crave human flesh. Maybe if I’d gone without food for days on end, standing this close to you would give me ideas, but I had a snack an hour ago,” Jo said, with a smile to put him at ease. “Tell me about Europe. I love dearly to hear people describe their travels.”

Laurie didn’t seem to know where to begin, but Jo’s eager questions soon set him going, and he told her how he had been at school in Vevay, where the boys never wore hats and had a fleet of boats on the lake, and for holiday fun went on walking trips about Switzerland with their teachers.

“Don’t I wish I’d been there!” cried Jo. “Did you go to Paris?”

“We spent last winter there.”

“Can you talk French?”

“We were not allowed to speak anything else at Vevay.” “Do say some! I can read it, but can’t pronounce.”

“Quel nom a cette jeune demoiselle en les pantoufles jolis?”

“How nicely you do it! Let me see… you said, ‘Who is the young lady in the pretty slippers?’, didn’t you?”

“Oui, mademoiselle.”

“It’s my sister Margaret, and you knew it was! Do you think she is pretty?”

“Yes, she makes me think of the German vampire girls, she looks so pale and quiet, and dances like a lady.”

Jo quite glowed with pleasure at this boyish praise of her sister, and stored it up to repeat to Meg. Both peeped and criticised and chatted till they felt like old acquaintances and didn’t even seem to notice the differences between them, which is precisely how Marmee said it should be for humans and vampires. Jo liked the “Laurence boy” better than ever and took several good looks at him, so that she might describe him to the girls, for human boys were almost unknown creatures to them.

“Curly black hair, brown skin, big black eyes, handsome nose, fine teeth, small hands and feet, taller than I am, very polite, for a boy, and altogether jolly. Wonder how old he is?”

By and by, the band struck up a splendid polka and Laurie insisted that they dance.

“I can’t, for I told Meg I wouldn’t, because…” There Jo stopped, and looked undecided whether to tell or to laugh.

“Because, what?”

“You won’t tell?”

“Never!”

“Well, I have a bad trick of standing near the window at sunrise, and so I burn my frocks, and I scorched this one. Though it’s nicely mended, it shows, and Meg told me to keep still so no one would see it. You may laugh, if you want to. It is funny, I know.”

But Laurie didn’t laugh. He only looked down a minute, and the expression of his face puzzled Jo when he said very gently, “So it’s true that sunlight does you great harm?”

“Only those thoughtless enough to expose themselves. I know I should pull the curtains and go to sleep but I love seeing the first rays peek over the horizon,” she said softly.

“Never mind that,” Laurie said. “I’ll tell you how we can manage. There’s a long hall out there, and we can dance grandly, and no one will see us. Please come.”

Jo thanked him and gladly went, wishing she had two neat gloves when she saw the nice, pearl-coloured ones her partner wore. The hall was empty, and they had a grand polka, for Laurie danced well, and taught her the German step, which delighted Jo, being full of swing and spring. When the music stopped, they sat down on the stairs, and Laurie was in the midst of an account of a vampires‘ festival at Heidelberg when Meg appeared in search of her sister. She beckoned, and Jo reluctantly followed her into a side room, where Meg sat on a sofa and held her foot.

“I’ve twisted my ankle. That stupid high heel turned and gave my foot a sad wrench,” she said, glancing down at the unfortunate appendage, which now pointed inwards at a most severe angle. “It doesn’t ache and I can stand fine but the cracking sound the bones make every time I step is disturbing the other dancers. I think we should leave.”

“I knew you’d hurt your feet with those silly shoes. I’m sorry. But I don’t see what you can do, except get a carriage, or stay here all night,” answered Jo, tugging on the bent limb, which would not straighten despite her considerable efforts. The vampire ability to regenerate would heal the appendage soon, but not so quickly that Meg could rejoin the dancing.

“Can I help you?” said a friendly voice. And there was Laurie, with a full cup in one hand and a plate of ice in the other.

“It’s nothing,” Meg assured. “I turned my foot a little, that’s all.”

But Laurie could see for himself that she’d turned her foot a lot and immediately offered to take her home in his grandfather’s carriage.

“It’s so early! You can’t mean to go yet?” began Jo, looking relieved but hesitating to accept the offer.

“I always go early, I do, truly! Please let me take you home. It’s all on my way, you know, and it rains, they say.”

That settled it. Jo gratefully accepted and they rolled away in the luxurious closed carriage, feeling very festive and elegant.

“I had a capital time. Did you?” asked Jo, rumpling up her hair, and making herself comfortable.

Meg agreed that she did up until the moment she twisted her ankle and had to leave. Laurie went on the box so Meg could keep her foot up, and the girls talked over their party in freedom.

“Sallie’s friend, Annie Moffat, took a fancy to me, and asked me to come and spend a week with her when Sallie does. She is going in the spring when the opera comes, and it will be perfectly splendid, if Mother only lets me go,” Meg said, cheering up at the thought.

Jo told her adventures, and by the time she had finished they were at home. With many thanks, they said goodnight and entered the house. The instant the door creaked, two little heads bobbed up and eager voices cried out…

“Tell about the party! Tell about the party!”

“I declare, it really seems like being a fine young lady, to come home from the party in a carriage and sit in my dressing gown with a maid to wait on me,” said Meg.

“I don’t believe fine young ladies enjoy themselves a bit more than we do, in spite of our burned gowns, one glove apiece, and tight slippers that sprain our ankles when we are silly enough to wear them.” And I think Jo was quite right.

⁶ International bestseller by Dimitri Strinsky (b. 1294), translated into thirty-seven languages, including Swahili. Its sequel, Seven More Signs of a Vampire Slayer and How I Missed Them the First Time, is also a classic.

⁷ The Pinkerton National Detective Agency, established in 1850 by Allan Pinkerton, who became famous after foiling an attempt to assassinate President-elect Abraham Lincoln. Pinkerton was the first personal-security agency to hire vampires to screen for slayers.

⁸ For an example, see “Vampires Are Thoughtless Killing Machines,” New York Times, January 23, 1856.

⁹ Type of shoe said to be worn by men in olden times; however, this detail has been pointed to by several radical feminist scholars as proof that Laurie’s desire to be a vampire is really a repressed desire to be a woman. See Karen Thomapolis’s Unmasking Gender in Little Vampire Women.