安妮日记英文版_安妮·弗兰克-第32章

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e。　in　the　meantime；　weve　been　cut　off　by　the　dark　mass　of　clouds；　so　that　we　can　go　neither　up　nor　down。　it　looms　before　us　like　an　impenetrable　wall；　trying　to　crush　us；　but　not　yet　able　to。　i　can　only　cry　out　and　implore；　〃oh；　ring；　ring；　open　wide　and　let　us　out！鈥�

yours；　anne　

thursday；　november　11；　1943

dearest　kitty；

i　have　a　good　title　for　this　chapter：

ode　to　my　fountain　pen　in　memoriam　my　fountain　pen　was　always　one　of　my　most　prized　possessions；　i　valued　it　highly；　especially　because　it　had　a　thick　nib；　and　i　can　only　write　neatly　with　thick　nibs。　it　has　led　a　long　and　interesting　fountain…pen　life；　which　i　will　summarize　below。

when　i　was　nine；　my　fountain　pen　（packed　in　cotton）　arrived　as　a　〃sample　of　no　mercial　value〃　all　the　way　from　aachen；　where　my　grandmother　（the　kindly　donor）

used　to　live。　i　lay　in　bed　with　the　flu；　while　the　february　winds　howled　around　the　apartment　house。　this　splendid　fountain　pen　came　in　a　red　leather　case；　and　i　showed　it　to　my　girlfriends　the　first　chance　i　got。　me；　anne　frank；　the　proud　owner　of　a　fountain　pen。

when　i　was　ten；　i　was　allowed　to　take　the　pen　to　school；　and　to　my　surprise；　the　teacher　even　let　me　write　with　it。　when　i　was　eleven；　however；　my　treasure　had　to　be　tucked　away　again；　because　my　sixth…grade　teacher　allowed　us　to　use　only　school　pens　and　inkpots。　when　i　was　twelve；　i　started　at　the　jewish　lyceum　and　my　fountain　pen　was　given　a　new　case　in　honor　of　the　occasion。　not　only　did　it　have　room　for　a　pencil；　it　also　had　a　zipper；　which　was　much　more　impressive。　when　i　was　thirteen；　the　fountain　pen　went　with　me　to　the　annex；　and　together　weve　raced　through　countless　diaries　and　positions。　id　turned　fourteen　and　my　fountain　pen　was　enjoying　the　last　year　of　its　life　with　me　when　。　。　。

it　was　just　after　five　on　friday　afternoon。　i　came　out　of　my　room　and　was　about　to　sit　down　at　the　table　to　write　when　i　was　roughly　pushed　to　one　side　to　make　room　for　margot　and　father；　who　wanted　to　practice　their　latin。　the　fountain　pen　remained　unused　on　the　table；　while　its　owner；　sighing；　was　forced　to　make　do　with　a　very　tiny　corner　of　the　table；　where　she　began　rubbing　beans。　thats　how　we　remove　mold　from　the　beans　and　restore　them　to　their　original　state。　at　a　quarter　to　six　i　swept　the　floor；　dumped　the　dirt　into　a　news　paper；　along　with　the　rotten　beans；　and　tossed　it　into　the　stove。　a　giant　flame　shot　up；　and　i　thought　it　was　wonderful　that　the　stove；　which　had　been　gasping　its　last　breath；　had　made　such　a　miraculous　recovery。

all　was　quiet　again。　the　latin　students　had　left；　and　i　sat　down　at　the　table　to　pick

up　where　id　left　off。　but　no　matter　where　i　looked；　my　fountain　pen　was　nowhere　in　sight。　i　took　another　look。　margot　looked；　mother　looked；　father　looked；　dussel　looked。

but　it　had　vanished。

〃maybe　it　fell　in　the　stove；　along　with　the　beans！〃　margot　suggested。

〃no；　it　couldnt　have！〃　i　replied。

but　that　evening；　when　my　fountain　pen　still　hadnt　turned　up；　we　all　assumed　it　had　been　burned；　especially　because　celluloid　is　highly　inflammable。　our　darkest　fears　were　confirmed　the　next　day　when　father　went　to　empty　the　stove　and　discovered　the　clip；　used　to　fasten　it　to　a　pocket；　among　the　ashes。　not　a　trace　of　the　gold　nib　was　left。

〃it　must　have　melted　into　stone；〃　father　conjectured。

im　left　with　one　consolation；　small　though　it　may　be：　my　fountain　pen　was　cremated；　just　as　i　would　like　to　be　someday！

yours；　anne　

wednesday；　november　17；　1943

dearest　kitty；

recent　events　have　the　house　rocking　on　its　foundations。　owing　to　an　outbreak　of　diphtheria　at　beps；　she　wont　be　allowed　to　e　in　contact　with　us　for　six　weeks。

without　her；　the　cooking　and　shopping　will　be　very　difficult；　not　to　mention　how　much　well　miss　her　pany。　mr。　kleiman　is　still　in　bed　and　has　eaten　nothing　but　gruel　for　three　weeks。　mr。　kugler　is　up　to　his　neck　in　work。

margot　sends　her　latin　lessons　to　a　teacher；　who　corrects　and　then　returns　them。

shes　registered　under　beps　name。　the　teachers　very　nice；　and　witty　too。　i　bet　hes　glad　to　have　such　a　smart　student。

dussel　is　in　a　turmoil　and　we　dont　know　why。　it　all　began　with　dussels　saying　nothing　when　he　was　upstairs；　he　didnt　exchange　so　much　as　a　word　with　either　mr。

or　mrs。　van　daan。　we　all　noticed　it。　this　went　on　for　a　few　days；　and　then　mother　took　the　opportunity　to　warn　him　about　mrs。　van　d。；　who　could　make　life　miserable　for　him。　dussel　said　mr。　van　daan　had　started　the　silent　treatment　and　he　had　no　intention　of　breaking　it。　i　should　explain　that　yesterday　was　november　16；　the　first　anniversary　of　his　living　in　the　annex。　mother　received　a　plant　in　honor　of　the　occasion；　but　mrs。　van　daan；　who　had　alluded　to　the　date　for　weeks　and　made　no

bones　about　the　fact　that　she　thought　dussel　should　treat　us　to　dinner；　received　nothing。　instead　of　making　use　of　the　opportunity　to　thank　us　　for　the　first　time　　for　unselfishly　taking　him　in；　he　didnt　utter　a　word。　and　on　the　morning　of　the　sixteenth；　when　i　asked　him　whether　i　should　offer　him　my　congratulations　or　my　condolences；　he　replied　that　either　one　would　do。　mother；　having　cast　herself　in　the　role　of　peacemaker；　made　no　headway　whatsoever；　and　the　situation　finally　ended　in　a　draw。

i　can　say　without　exaggeration　that　dussel　has　definitely　got　a　screw　loose。　we　often　laugh　to　ourselves　because　he　has　no　memory；　no　fixed　opinions　and　no　mon　sense。　hes　amused　us　more　than　once　by　trying　to　pass　on　the　news　hes　just　heard；　since　the　message　invariably　gets　garbled　in　transmission。　furthermore；　he　answers　every　reproach　or　accusation　with　a　load　of　fine　1　promises；　which　he　never　manages　to　keep。

〃der　mann　hat　einen　grossen　geist　una　ist　so　klein　van　taten！〃*　＇*a　well…known　expression：

〃the　spirit　of　the　man　is　great；　how　puny　are　his　deeds。鈥�

yours；　anne　

saturday；　november　27；　1943

dearest　kitty；

last　night；　just　as　i　was　falling　asleep；　hanneli　suddenly　appeared　before　me。

i　saw　her　there；　dressed　in　rags；　her　face　thin　and　worn。　she　looked　at　me　with　such　sadness　and　reproach　in　her　enormous　eyes　that　i　could　read　the　message　in　them：

〃oh；　anne；　why　have　you　deserted　me？　help　me；　help　me；　rescue　me　from　this　hell！鈥�

and　i　cant　help　her。　i　can　only　stand　by　and　watch　while　other　people　suffer　and　die。

all　i　can　do　is　pray　to　god　to　bring　her　back　to　us。　i　saw　hanneli；　and　no　one　else；　and　i　understood　why。　i　misjudged　her；　wasnt　mature　enough　to　understand　how　difficult　it　was　for　her。　she　was　devoted　to　her　girlfriend；　and　it　must　have　seemed　as　though　i　were　trying　to　take　her　away。　the　poor　thing；　she　must　have　felt　awful！　i　know；　because　i　recognize　the　feeling　in　myself！　i　had　an　occasional　flash　of　understanding；　but　then　got　selfishly　wrapped　up　again　in　my　own　problems　and　pleasures。

it　was　mean　of　me　to　treat　her　that　way；　and　now　she　was　looking　at　me；　oh　so　helplessly；　with　her　pale　face　and　beseeching　eyes。　if　only　i　could　help　her！　dear　god；　i　have　everything　i　could　wish　for；　while　fate　has　her　in　its　deadly　clutches。　she　was　as　devout　as　i　am；　maybe　even　more　so；　and　she　too　wanted　to　do　what　was　right。

but　then　why　have　i　been　chosen　to　live；　while　shes　probably　going　to　die？　whats　the　difference　between　us？　why　are　we　now　so　far　apart？

to　be　honest；　i　hadnt　thought　of　her　for　months　　no；　for　at　least　a　year。　i　hadnt　forgotten　her　entirely；　and　yet　it　wasnt　until　i　saw　her　before　me　that　i　thought　of　all　her　suffering。

oh；　hanneli；　i　hope　that　if　you　live　to　the　end　of　the　war　and　return　to　us；　ill　be　able　to　take　you　in　and　make　up　for　the　wrong　ive　done　you。

but　even　if　i　were　ever　in　a　position　to　help；　she　wouldnt　need　it　more　than　she　does　now。　i　wonder　if　she　ever　thinks　of　me；　and　what　shes　feeling？

merciful　god；　fort　her；　so　that　at　least　she　wont　be　alone。　oh；　if　only　you　could　tell　her　im　thinking　of　her　with　passion　and　love；　it　might　help　her　go　on。

ive　got　to　stop　dwelling　on　this。　it　wont　get　me　anywhere。　i　keep　seeing　her　enormous　eyes；　and　they　haunt　me。　does　hanneli　really　and　truly　believe　in　god；　or　has　religion　merely　been　foisted　upon　her？　i　dont　even　know　that。　i　never　took　the　trouble　to　ask。

hanneli；　hanneli；　if　only　i　could　take　y