安妮日记- 第10部分

mother　had　no　choice　but　to　laugh　at　this　ridiculous　self…defense；　which　irritated　mrs。

van　daan。　not　exactly　a　born　debater；　she　continued　her　magnificent　account　in　a　mixture　of　german　and　dutch；　until　she　got　so　tangled　up　in　her　own　words　that　she　finally　rose　from　her　chair　and　was　just　about　to　leave　the　room　when　her　eye　fell　on　me。　you　should　have　seen　her！　as　luck　would　have　it；　the　moment　mrs。　van　d。　turned　around　i　was　shaking　my　head　in　a　bination　of　passion　and　irony。　i　wasnt　doing　it　on　purpose；　but　id　followed　her　tirade　so　intently　that　my　reaction　was　pletely　involuntary。　mrs。　van　d。　wheeled　around　and　gave　me　a　tongue…lashing：

hard；　germanic；　mean　and　vulgar；　exactly　like　some　fat；　red…faced　fishwife。　it　was　a　joy　to　behold。　if　i　could　draw；　id　like　to　have　sketched　her　as　she　was　then。　she　struck　me　as　so　ical；　that　silly　little　scatterbrain！　ive　learned　one　thing：　you　only　really　get　to　know　a　person　after　a　fight。　only　then　can　you　judge　their　true　character！

yours；　anne　tuesday；　september　29；　1942

dearest　kitty；

the　strangest　things　happen　to　you　when　youre　in　hiding！　try　to　picture　this。

because　we　dont　have　a　bathtub；　we　wash　ourselves　in　a　washtub；　and　because　theres　only　hot　water　in　the　office　（by　which　i　mean　the　entire　lower　floor）；　the　seven　of　us　take　turns　making　the　most　of　this　great　opportunity。　but　since　none　of　us　are　alike　and　are　all　plagued　by　varying　degrees　of　modesty；　each　member　of　the

family　has　selected　a　different　place　to　wash。　peter　takes　a　bath　in　the　office　kitchen；　even　though　it　has　a　glass　door。　when　its　time　for　his　bath；　he　goes　around　to　each　of　us　in　turn　and　announces　that　we　shouldnt　walk　past　the　kitchen　for　the　next　half　hour。　he　considers　this　measure　to　be　sufficient。　mr。　van　d。　takes　his　bath　upstairs；　figuring　that　the　safety　of　his　own　room　outweighs　the　difficulty　of　having　to　carry　the　hot　water　up　all　those　stairs。　mrs。　van　d。　has　yet　to　take　a　bath；　shes　waiting　to　see　which　is　the　best　place。　father　bathes　in　the　private　office　and　mother　in　the　kitchen　behind　a　fire　screen；　while　margot　and　i　have　declared　the　front　office　to　be　our　bathing　grounds。　since　the　curtains　are　drawn　on　saturday　afternoon；　we　scrub　ourselves　in　the　dark；　while　the　one　who　isnt　in　the　bath　looks　out　the　window　through　a　chink　in　the　curtains　and　gazes　in　wonder　at　the　endlessly　amusing　people。

a　week　ago　i　decided　i　didnt　like　this　spot　and　have　been　on　the　lookout　for　more　fortable　bathing　quarters。　it　was　peter　who　gave　me　the　idea　of　setting　my　washtub　in　the　spacious　office　bathroom。　i　can　sit　down；　turn　on　the　light；　lock　the　door；　pour　out　the　water　without　anyones　help；　and　all　without　the　fear　of　being　seen。

i　used　my　lovely　bathroom　for　the　first　time　on　sunday　and；　strange　as　it　may　seem；　i　like　it　better　than　any　other　place。

the　plumber　was　at　work　downstairs　on　wednesday；　moving　the　water　pipes　and　drains　from　the　office　bathroom　to　the　hallway　so　the　pipes　wont　freeze　during　a　cold　winter。　the　plumbers　visit　was　far　from　pleasant。　not　only　were　we　not　allowed　to　run　water　during　the　day；　but　the　bathroom　was　also　off…limits。　ill　tell　you　how　we　handled　this　problem；　you　may　find　it　unseemly　of　me　to　bring　it　up；　but　im　not　so　prudish　about　matters　of　this　kind。　on　the　day　of　our　arrival；　father　and　i　improvised　a　chamber　pot；　sacrificing　a　canning　jar　for　this　purpose。　for　the　duration　of　the　plumbers　visit；　canning　jars　were　put　into　service　during　the　daytime　to　hold　our　calls　of　nature。　as　far　as　i　was　concerned；　this　wasnt　half　as　difficult　as　having　to　sit　still　all　day　and　not　say　a　word。　you　can　imagine　how　hard　that　was　for　miss　quack；　quack；　quack。　on　ordinary　days　we　have　to　speak　in　a　whisper；　not　being　able　to　talk　or　move　at　all　is　ten　times　worse。

after　three　days　of　constant　sitting；　my　backside　was　stiff　and　sore。　nightly　calisthenics　helped。

yours；　anne

　。。



OCTOBER；　1942

（小//说；网/
wednesday；　september　2；　1942

dearest　kitty；

mr。　and　mrs。　van　daan　have　had　a　terrible　fight。　ive　never　seen　anything　like　it；　since　mother　and　father　wouldnt　dream　of　shouting　at　each　other　like　that。　the　argument　was　based　on　something　so　trivial　it　didnt　seem　worth　wasting　a　single　word　on　it。

oh　well；　to　each　his　own。

of　course；　its　very　difficult　for　peter；　who　gets　caught　in　the　middle；　but　no　one　takes　peter　seriously　anymore；　since　hes　hypersensitive　and　lazy。　yesterday　he　was　beside　himself　with　worry　because　his　tongue　was　blue　instead　of　pink。　this　rare　phenomenon　disappeared　as　quickly　as　it　came。　today　hes　walking　around　with　a　heavy　scarf　on　because　hes　got　a　stiff　neck。　his　highness　has　been　plaining　of　lumbago　too。　aches　and　pains　in　his　heart；　kidneys　and　lungs　are　also　par　for　the　course。　hes　an　absolute　hypochondriac！　（thats　the　right　word；　isnt　it？）

mother　and　mrs。　van　daan　arent　getting　along　very　well。　there　are　enough　reasons　for　the　friction。　to　give　you　one　small　example；　mrs。　van　d。　has　removed　all　but　three　of　her　sheets　from　our　munal　linen　closet。　shes　assuming　that　mothers　can　be　used　for　both　families。　shell　be　in　for　a　nasty　surprise　when　she　discovers　that　mother　has　followed　her　lead。

furthermore；　mrs。　van　d。　is　ticked　off　because　were　using　her　china　instead　of　ours。

shes　still　trying　to　find　out　what　weve　done　with　our　plates；　theyre　a　lot　closer　than　she　thinks；　since　theyre　packed　in　cardboard　boxes　in　the　attic；　behind　a　load　of　opekta　advertising　material。　as　long　as　were　in　hiding；　the　plates　will　remain　out　of　her　reach。　since　im　always　having　accidents；　its　just　as　well！　yesterday　i　broke　one　of　mrs。　van　d。s　soup　bowls。

〃oh！〃　she　angrily　exclaimed。　〃cant　you　be　more　careful？　that　was　my　last　one。”

please　bear　in　mind；　kitty；　that　the　two　ladies　speak　abominable　dutch　（i　dont　dare　ment　on　the　gentlemen：　theyd　be　highly　insulted）。　if　you　were　to　hear　their　bungled　attempts；　youd　laugh　your　head　off。　weve　given　up　pointing　out　their　errors；　since　correcting　them　doesnt　help　anyway。　whenever　i　quote　mother　or　mrs。　van　daan；　ill　write　proper　dutch　instead　of　trying　to　duplicate　their　speech。

last　week　there　was　a　brief　interruption　in　our　monotonous　routine。　this　was　provided　by　peter　……　and　a　book　about　women。　i　should　explain　that　margot　and　peter　are　allowed　to　read　nearly　all　the　books　mr。　kleiman　lends　us。　but　the　adults　preferred　to　keep　this　special　book　to　themselves。　this　immediately　piqued　peters　curiosity。　what　forbidden　fruit　did　it　contain？　he　snuck　off　with　it　when　his　mother　was　downstairs　talking；　and　took　himself　and　his　booty　to　the　loft。　for　two　days　all　was　well。　mrs。

van　daan　knew　what　he　was　up　to；　but　kept　mum　until　mr。　van　daan　found　out　about　it。　he　threw　a　fit；　took　the　book　away　and　assumed　that　would　be　the　end　of　the　business。　however；　hed　neglected　to　take　his　sons　curiosity　into　account。　peter；　not　in　the　least　fazed　by　his　fathers　swift　action；　began　thinking　up　ways　to　read　the　rest　of　this　vastly　interesting　book。

in　the　meantime；　mrs。　van　d。　asked　mother　for　her　opinion。　mother　didnt　think　this　particular　book　was　suitable　for　margot；　but　she　saw　no　harm　in　letting　her　read　most　other　books。

you　see；　mrs。　van　daan；　mother　said；　theres　a　big　difference　between　margot　and　peter。　to　begin　with；　margots　a　girl；　and　girls　are　always　more　mature　than　boys。

second；　shes　already　read　many　serious　books　and　doesnt　go　looking　for　those　which　are　no　longer　forbidden。　third；　margots　much　more　sensible　and　intellectually　advanced；　as　a　result　of　her　four　years　at　an　excellent　school。”

mrs。　van　daan　agreed　with　her；　but　felt　it　was　wrong　as　a　matter　of　principle　to　let　youngsters　read　books　written　for　adults。

meanwhile；　peter　had　thought　of　a　suitable　time　when　no　one　would　be　interested　in　either　him　or　the　book。　at　seven…thirty　in　the　evening；　when　the　entire　family　was　listening　to　the　radio　in　the　private　office；　he　took　his　treasure　and　stole　off　to　the　loft　again。　he　should　have　been　back　by　eight…thirty；　but　he　was　so　engrossed　in　the　book　that　he　forgot　the　time　and　was　just　ing　down　the　stairs　when　his　father　entered　the　room。　the　scene　that　followed　was　not　surprising：　after　a　slap；　a　whack　and　a　tug…of…war；　the　book　lay　on　the　table　and　peter　was　in　the　loft。

this　is　how　matters　stood　when　it　was　time　for　the　family　to　eat。　peter　stayed　upstairs。　no　one　gave　him　a　moments　thought；　hed　have　to　go　to　bed　without　his　dinner。　we　continued　eating；　chatting　merrily　away；　when　suddenly　we　heard　a　piercing　whistle。　we　lay　down　our　forks　and　stared　at　each　other；　the　shock　clearly　visible　on　our　pale　faces。

then　we　heard　peters　voice　through　the　chimney：　〃i　won　t　e　down！〃

mr。　van　daan　leapt　up；　his　napkin　falling　to　the　floor；　and　shouted；　with　the　blood　rushing　to　his　face；　〃ive　had　enough！”

father；　afraid　of　what　might　happen；　grabbed　him　by　the　arm　and　the　two　men　went　to　the　attic。　after　much　struggling　and　kicking；　peter　wound　up　in　his　room　with　the　door　shut；　and　we　went　on　eating。

mrs。　van　daan　wanted　to　save　a　piece　of　bread　for　her　darling　son；　but　mr。　van　d。

was　adamant。　〃if　he　doesnt　apologize　this　minute；　hell　have　to　sleep　in　the　loft。”

we　protested　that　going　without　dinner　was　enough