安妮日记- 第36部分

indignation；　rage；　indecision；　agitation　and　much　more　crossed　his　face　in　rapid　succession。

that　evening　mr。　van　daan　and　peter　really　told　dussel　off。　but　it　couldnt　have　been　all　that　bad；　since　peter　had　another　dental　appointment　today。

actually；　they　never　wanted　to　speak　to　each　other　again。

wednesday；　february　16；　1944

peter　and　i　hadnt　talked　to　each　other　all　day；　except　for　a　few　meaningless　words。　it　was　too　cold　to　go　up　to　the　attic；　and　anyway；　it　was　margots　birthday。　at　twelve…thirty　he　came　to　look　at　the　presents　and　hung　around　chatting　longer　than　was　strictly　necessary；　something　hed　never　have　done　otherwise。　but　i　got　my　chance　in　the　afternoon。　since　i　felt　like　spoiling　margot　on　her　birthday；　i　went　to　get　the　coffee；　and　after　that　the　potatoes。　when　i　came　to　peters　room；　he　immediately　took　his　papers　off　the　stairs；　and　i　asked　if　i　should　close　the　trapdoor

to　the　attic。

〃sure；〃　he　said；　〃go　ahead。　when　youre　ready　to　e　back　down；　just　knock　and　ill　open　it　for　you。”

i　thanked　him；　went　upstairs　and　spent　at　least　ten　minutes　searching　around　in　the　barrel　for　the　smallest　potatoes。　my　back　started　aching；　and　the　attic　was　cold。

naturally；　i　didnt　bother　to　knock　but　opened　the　trap…door　myself。　but　he　obligingly　got　up　and　took　the　pan　out　of　my　hands。

〃i　did　my　best；　but　i　couldnt　find　any　smaller　ones。”

〃did　you　look　in　the　big　barrel？”

〃yes；　ive　been　through　them　all。”

by　this　time　i　was　at　the　bottom　of　the　stairs；　and　he　examined　the　pan　of　potatoes　he　was　still　holding。　〃oh；　but　these　are　fine；〃　he　said；　and　added；　as　i　took　the　pan　from　him；　〃my　pliments！”

as　he　said　this；　he　gave　me　such　a　warm；　tender　look　that　i　started　glowing　inside。　i　could　tell　he　wanted　to　please　me；　but　since　he　couldnt　make　a　long　plimentary　speech；　he　said　everything　with　his　eyes。　i　understood　him　so　well　and　was　very　grateful。　it　still　makes　me　happy　to　think　back　to　those　words　and　that　look！

when　i　went　downstairs；　mother　said　she　needed　more　potatoes；　this　time　for　dinner；　so　i　volunteered　to　go　back　up。　when　i　entered　peters　room；　i　apologized　for　disturbing　him　again。　as　i　was　going　up　the　stairs；　he　stood　up；　went　over　to　stand　between　the　stairs　and　the　wall；　grabbed　my　arm　and　tried　to　stop　me。

〃ill　go；〃　he　said。　〃i　have　to　go　upstairs　anyway。”

i　replied　that　it　wasnt　really　necessary；　that　i　didnt　have　to　get　only　the　small　ones　this　time。　convinced；　he　let　go　of　my　arm。　on　my　way　back；　he　opened　the　trapdoor　and　once　again　took　the　pan　from　me。　standing　by　the　door；　i　asked；　〃what　are　you　working　on？”

〃french；〃　he　replied。

i　asked　if　i　could　take　a　look　at　his　lessons。　then　i　went　to　wash　my　hands　and　sat　down　across　from　him　on　the　divan。

after　id　explained　some　french　to　him；　we　began　to　talk。　he　told　me　that　after　the　war　he　wanted　to　go　to　the　dutch　east　indies　and　live　on　a　rubber　plantation。　he　talked　about　his　life　at　home；　the　black　market　and　how　he　felt　like　a　worthless　bum。

i　told　him　he　had　a　big　inferiority　plex。　he　talked　about　the　war；　saying　that　russia　and　england　were　bound　to　go　to　war　against　each　other；　and　about　the　jews。

he　said　life　would　have　been　much　easier　if　hed　been　a　christian　or　could　bee　one　after　the　war。　i　asked　if　he　wanted　to　be　baptized；　but　that　wasnt　what　he　meant　either。　he　said　hed　never　be　able　to　feel　like　a　christian；　but　that　after　the　war　hed　make　sure　nobody　would　know　he　was　jewish。　i　felt　a　momentary　pang。　its　such　a　shame　he　still　has　a　touch　of　dishonesty　in　him。

peter　added；　〃the　jews　have　been　and　always　will　be　the　chosen　people！”

i　answered；　〃just　this　once；　i　hope　theyll　be　chosen　for　something　good！”

but　we　went　on　chatting　very　pleasantly；　about　father；　about　judging　human　character　and　all　sorts　of　things；　so　many　that　i　cant　even　remember　them　all。

i　left　at　a　quarter　past　five；　because　bep　had　arrived。

that　evening　he　said　something　else　i　thought　was　nice。　we　were　talking　about　the　picture　of　a　movie　star　id　once　given　him；　which　has　been　hanging　in　his　room　for　at　least　a　year　and　a　half。　he　liked　it　so　much　that　i　offered　to　give　him　a　few　more。

〃no；〃　he　replied；　〃id　rather　keep　the　one　ive　got。　i　look　at　it　every　day；　and　the　people　in　it　have　bee　my　friends。”

i　now　have　a　better　understanding　of　why　he　always　hugs　mouschi　so　tightly。　he　obviously　needs　affection　too。　i　forgot　to　mention　something　else　he　was　talking　about。

he　said；　〃no；　im　not　afraid；　except　when　it　es　to　things　about　myself；　but　im　working　on　that。”

peter　has　a　huge　inferiority　plex。　for　example；　he　always　thinks　hes　so　stupid　and　were　so　smart。　when　i　help　him　with　french；　he　thanks　me　a　thousand　times。　one　of　these　days　im　going　to　say；　〃oh；　cut　it　out！　youre　much　better　at　english　and　geography！”

anne　frank

thursday；　february　17；　1944

dear　kitty；

i　was　upstairs　this　morning；　since　i　promised　mrs。　van　d。　id　read　her　some　of　my　stories。　i　began　with　〃evas　dream；〃　which　she　liked　a　lot；　and　then　i　read　a　few　passages　from　〃the　secret　annex；〃　which　had　her　in　stitches。　peter　also　listened　for　a　while　（just　the　last　part）　and　asked　if　id　e　to　his　room　sometime　to　read　more。

i　decided　i　had　to　take　a　chance　right　then　and　there；　so　i　got　my　notebook　and　let　him　read　that　bit　where　cady　and　hans　talk　about　god。　i　cant　really　tell　what　kind　of　impression　it　made　on　him。　he　said　something　i　dont　quite　remember；　not　about　whether　it　was　good；　but　about　the　idea　behind　it。　i　told　him　i　just　wanted　him　to　see　that　i　didnt　write　only　amusing　things。　he　nodded；　and　i　left　the　room。　well　see　if　i　hear　anything　more！

yours；　anne　

frank

friday；　february　18；　1944

my　dearest　kitty；

whenever　i　go　upstairs；　its　always　so　i　can　see　〃him。〃　now　that　i　have　something　to　look　forward　to；　my　life　here　has　improved　greatly。

at　least　the　object　of　my　friendship　is　always　here；　and　i　dont　have　to　be　afraid　of　rivals　（except　for　margot）。　dont　think　im　in　love；　because　im　not；　but　i　do　have　the　feeling　that　something　beautiful　is　going　to　develop　between　peter　and　me；　a　kind　of　friendship　and　a　feeling　of　trust。　i　go　see　him　whenever　i　get　the　chance；　and　its　not　the　way　it　used　to　be；　when　he　didnt　know　what　to　make　of　me。　on　the　contrary；　hes　still　talking　away　as　im　heading　out　the　door。　mother　doesnt　like　me　going　upstairs。　she　always　says　im　bothering　peter　and　that　i　should　leave　him　alone。

honestly；　cant　she　credit　me　with　some　intuition？　she　always　looks　at　me　so　oddly　when　i　go　to　peters　room。　when　i　e　down　again；　she　asks　me　where　ive　been。

its　terrible；　but　im　beginning　to　hate　her！

yours；　anne　

m。　frank

saturday；　february　19；　1944

dearest　kitty；

its　saturday　again；　and　that　should　tell　you　enough。　this　morning　all　was　quiet。　i　spent　nearly　an　hour　upstairs　making　meatballs；　but　i　only　spoke　to　〃him〃　in　passing。

when　everyone　went　upstairs　at　two…thirty　to　either　read　or　take　a　nap；　i　went　downstairs；　with　blanket　and　all；　to　sit　at　the　desk　and　read　or　write。　before　long　i　couldnt　take　it　anymore。　i　put　my　head　in　my　arms　and　sobbed　my　heart　out。　the　tears　streamed　down　my　cheeks；　and　i　felt　desperately　unhappy。　oh；　if　only　he〃　had　e　to　fort　me。

it　was　past　four　by　the　time　i　went　upstairs　again。　at　five　oclock　i　set　off　to　get　some　potatoes；　hoping　once　again　that　wed　meet；　but　while　i　was　still　in　the　bathroom　fixing　my　hair；　he　went　to　see　boche。

i　wanted　to　help　mrs。　van　d。　and　went　upstairs　with　my　book　and　everything；　but　suddenly　i　felt　the　tears　ing　again。　i　raced　downstairs　to　the　bathroom；　grabbing　the　hand　mirror　on　the　way。　i　sat　there　on　the　toilet；　fully　dressed；　long　after　i　was　through；　my　tears　leaving　dark　spots　on　the　red　of　my　apron；　and　i　felt　utterly　dejected。

heres　what　was　going　through　my　mind：　〃oh；　ill　never　reach　peter　this　way。　who　knows；　maybe　he　doesnt　even　like　me　and　he　doesnt　need　anyone　to　confide　in。

maybe　he　only　thinks　of　me　in　a　casual　sort　of　way。　ill　have　to　go　back　to　being　alone；　without　anyone　to　confide　in　and　without　peter；　without　hope；　fort　or　anything　to　look　forward　to。　oh；　if　only　i　could　rest　my　head　on　his　shoulder　and　not　feel　so　hopelessly　alone　and　deserted！　who　knows；　maybe　he　doesnt　care　for　me　at　all　and　looks　at　the　others　in　the　same　tender　way。　maybe　i　only　imagined　it　was　especially　for　me。　oh；　peter；　if　only　you　could　hear　me　or　see　me。　if　the　truth　is　disappointing；　i　wont　be　able　to　bear　it。”

a　little　later　i　felt　hopeful　and　full　of　expectation　again；　though　my　tears　were　still　flowing　……　on　the　inside。

yours；　anne　

m。　frank

sunday；　february　20；　1944

what　happens　in　other　peoples　houses　during　the　rest　of　the　week　happens　here　in　the　annex　on　sundays。　while　other　people　put　on　their　best　clothes　and　go　strolling　in　the　sun；　we　scrub；　sweep　and　do　the　laundry。

eight　oclock。　though　the　rest　of　us　prefer　to　sleep　in；

dussel　gets　up　at　eight。　he　goes　to　the　bathroom；　then　downstairs；　then　up　again　and　then　to　the　bathroom；　where　he　devotes　a　whole　hour　to　washing　himself。

nine…thirty。　the　stoves　are　lit；　the　blackout　screen　is　taken　down；　and　mr。　van　daan　heads　for　the　bathroom。　one　of　my　sunday　morning　ordeals　is　having　to　lie　in　bed　an