Never had such joy reigned in the nursery of the Large Family. Never had they dreamed of such delights as resulted from an intimate acquaintance with the little-girl-who-was-not-a-beggar. The mere fact of her sufferings and adventures made her a priceless possession. Everybody wanted to be told over and over again the things which had happened to her. When one was sitting by a warm fire in a big, glowing room, it was quite delightful to hear how cold it could be in an attic. It must be admitted that the attic was rather delighted in, and that its coldness and bareness quite sank into insignificance when Melchisedec was remembered, and one heard about the sparrows and things one could see if one climbed on the table and stuck one’s head and shoulders out of the skylight.
Of course the thing loved best was the story of the banquet and the dream which was true. Sara told it for the first time the day after she had been found. Several members of the Large Family came to take tea with her, and as they sat or curled up on the hearth-rug she told the story in her own way, and the Indian gentleman listened and watched her. When she had finished she looked up at him and put her hand on his knee.
“That is my part,” she said. “Now won’t you tell your part of it, Uncle Tom?” He had asked her to call him always “Uncle Tom.” “I don’t know your part yet, and it must be beautiful.”
So he told them how, when he sat alone, ill and dull and irritable, Ram Dass had tried to distract him by describing the passers by, and there was one child who passed oftener than any one else; he had begun to be interested in her—partly perhaps because he was thinking a great deal of a little girl, and partly because Ram Dass had been able to relate the incident of his visit to the attic in chase of the monkey. He had described its cheerless look, and the bearing of the child, who seemed as if she was not of the class of those who were treated as drudges and servants. Bit by bit, Ram Dass had made discoveries concerning the wretchedness of her life. He had found out how easy a matter it was to climb across the few yards of roof to the skylight, and this fact had been the beginning of all that followed.
“Sahib,” he had said one day, “I could cross the slates and make the child a fire when she is out on some errand. When she returned, wet and cold, to find it blazing, she would think a magician had done it.”
The idea had been so fanciful that Mr. Carrisford’s sad face had lighted with a smile, and Ram Dass had been so filled with rapture that he had enlarged upon it and explained to his master how simple it would be to accomplish numbers of other things. He had shown a childlike pleasure and invention, and the preparations for the carrying out of the plan had filled many a day with interest which would otherwise have dragged wearily. On the night of the frustrated banquet Ram Dass had kept watch, all his packages being in readiness in the attic which was his own; and the person who was to help him had waited with him, as interested as himself in the odd adventure. Ram Dass had been lying flat upon the slates, looking in at the skylight, when the banquet had come to its disastrous conclusion; he had been sure of the profoundness of Sara’s wearied sleep; and then, with a dark lantern, he had crept into the room, while his companion remained outside and handed the things to him. When Sara had stirred ever so faintly, Ram Dass had closed the lantern-slide and lain flat upon the floor. These and many other exciting things the children found out by asking a thousand questions.
“I am so glad,” Sara said. “I am so glad it was you who were my friend!”
There never were such friends as these two became. Somehow, they seemed to suit each other in a wonderful way. The Indian gentleman had never had a companion he liked quite as much as he liked Sara. In a month’s time he was, as Mr. Carmichael had prophesied he would be, a new man. He was always amused and interested, and he began to find an actual pleasure in the possession of the wealth he had imagined that he loathed the burden of. There were so many charming things to plan for Sara. There was a little joke between them that he was a magician, and it was one of his pleasures to invent things to surprise her. She found beautiful new flowers growing in her room, whimsical little gifts tucked under pillows, and once, as they sat together in the evening, they heard the scratch of a heavy paw on the door, and when Sara went to find out what it was, there stood a great dog—a splendid Russian boarhound—with a grand silver and gold collar bearing an inscription. “I am Boris,” it read; “I serve the Princess Sara.”
There was nothing the Indian gentleman loved more than the recollection of the little princess in rags and tatters. The afternoons in which the Large Family, or Ermengarde and Lottie, gathered to rejoice together were very delightful. But the hours when Sara and the Indian gentleman sat alone and read or talked had a special charm of their own. During their passing many interesting things occurred.
One evening, Mr. Carrisford, looking up from his book, noticed that his companion had not stirred for some time, but sat gazing into the fire.
“What are you `supposing,’ Sara?” he asked.
Sara looked up, with a bright color on her cheek.
“I was supposing,” she said; “I was remembering that hungry day, and a child I saw.”
“But there were a great many hungry days,” said the Indian gentleman, with rather a sad tone in his voice. “Which hungry day was it?”
“I forgot you didn’t know,” said Sara. “It was the day the dream came true.”
Then she told him the story of the bun shop, and the fourpence she picked up out of the sloppy mud, and the child who was hungrier than herself. She told it quite simply, and in as few words as possible; but somehow the Indian gentleman found it necessary to shade his eyes with his hand and look down at the carpet.
“And I was supposing a kind of plan,” she said, when she had finished. “I was thinking I should like to do something.”
“What was it?” said Mr. Carrisford, in a low tone. “You may do anything you like to do, princess.”
“I was wondering,” rather hesitated Sara—”you know, you say I have so much money—I was wondering if I could go to see the bun- woman, and tell her that if, when hungry children—particularly on those dreadful days—come and sit on the steps, or look in at the window, she would just call them in and give them something to eat, she might send the bills to me. Could I do that?”
“You shall do it tomorrow morning,” said the Indian gentleman.
“Thank you,” said Sara. “You see, I know what it is to be hungry, and it is very hard when one cannot even pretend it away.”
“Yes, yes, my dear,” said the Indian gentleman. “Yes, yes, it must be. Try to forget it. Come and sit on this footstool near my knee, and only remember you are a princess.”
“Yes,” said Sara, smiling; “and I can give buns and bread to the populace.” And she went and sat on the stool, and the Indian gentleman (he used to like her to call him that, too, sometimes) drew her small dark head down on his knee and stroked her hair.
The next morning, Miss Minchin, in looking out of her window, saw the things she perhaps least enjoyed seeing. The Indian gentleman’s carriage, with its tall horses, drew up before the door of the next house, and its owner and a little figure, warm with soft, rich furs, descended the steps to get into it. The little figure was a familiar one, and reminded Miss Minchin of days in the past. It was followed by another as familiar—the sight of which she found very irritating. It was Becky, who, in the character of delighted attendant, always accompanied her young mistress to her carriage, carrying wraps and belongings. Already Becky had a pink, round face.
A little later the carriage drew up before the door of the baker’s shop, and its occupants got out, oddly enough, just as the bun-woman was putting a tray of smoking-hot buns into the window.
When Sara entered the shop the woman turned and looked at her, and, leaving the buns, came and stood behind the counter. For a moment she looked at Sara very hard indeed, and then her good- natured face lighted up.
“I’m sure that I remember you, miss,” she said. “And yet—”
“Yes,” said Sara; “once you gave me six buns for fourpence, and—”
“And you gave five of ‘em to a beggar child,” the woman broke in on her. “I’ve always remembered it. I couldn’t make it out at first.” She turned round to the Indian gentleman and spoke her next words to him. “I beg your pardon, sir, but there’s not many young people that notices a hungry face in that way; and I’ve thought of it many a time. Excuse the liberty, miss,”—to Sara— “but you look rosier and—well, better than you did that—that—”
“I am better, thank you,” said Sara. “And—I am much happier— and I have come to ask you to do something for me.”
“Me, miss!” exclaimed the bun-woman, smiling cheerfully. “Why, bless you! Yes, miss. What can I do?”
And then Sara, leaning on the counter, made her little proposal concerning the dreadful days and the hungry waifs and the buns.
The woman watched her, and listened with an astonished face.
“Why, bless me!” she said again when she had heard it all; “it’ll be a pleasure to me to do it. I am a working-woman myself and cannot afford to do much on my own account, and there’s sights of trouble on every side; but, if you’ll excuse me, I’m bound to say I’ve given away many a bit of bread since that wet afternoon, just along o’ thinking of you—an’ how wet an’ cold you was, an’ how hungry you looked; an’ yet you gave away your hot buns as if you was a princess.”
The Indian gentleman smiled involuntarily at this, and Sara smiled a little, too, remembering what she had said to herself when she put the buns down on the ravenous child’s ragged lap.
“She looked so hungry,” she said. “She was even hungrier than I was.”
“She was starving,” said the woman. “Many’s the time she’s told me of it since—how she sat there in the wet, and felt as if a wolf was a-tearing at her poor young insides.”
“Oh, have you seen her since then?” exclaimed Sara. “Do you know where she is?”
“Yes, I do,” answered the woman, smiling more good-naturedly than ever. “Why, she’s in that there back room, miss, an’ has been for a month; an’ a decent, well-meanin’ girl she’s goin’ to turn out, an’ such a help to me in the shop an’ in the kitchen as you’d scarce believe, knowin’ how she’s lived.”
She stepped to the door of the little back parlor and spoke; and the next minute a girl came out and followed her behind the counter. And actually it was the beggar-child, clean and neatly clothed, and looking as if she had not been hungry for a long time. She looked shy, but she had a nice face, now that she was no longer a savage, and the wild look had gone from her eyes. She knew Sara in an instant, and stood and looked at her as if she could never look enough.
“You see,” said the woman, “I told her to come when she was hungry, and when she’d come I’d give her odd jobs to do; an’ I found she was willing, and somehow I got to like her; and the end of it was, I’ve given her a place an’ a home, and she helps me, an’ behaves well, an’ is as thankful as a girl can be. Her name’s Anne. She has no other.”
The children stood and looked at each other for a few minutes; and then Sara took her hand out of her muff and held it out across the counter, and Anne took it, and they looked straight into each other’s eyes.
“I am so glad,” Sara said. “And I have just thought of something. Perhaps Mrs. Brown will let you be the one to give the buns and bread to the children. Perhaps you would like to do it because you know what it is to be hungry, too.”
“Yes, miss,” said the girl.
And, somehow, Sara felt as if she understood her, though she said so little, and only stood still and looked and looked after her as she went out of the shop with the Indian gentleman, and they got into the carriage and drove away.
背景介绍和作者介绍
这段文字选自弗朗西丝·霍奇森·伯内特于1905年创作的深受喜爱的儿童小说《小公主》。伯内特是一位英裔美国作家，以其永恒的儿童文学作品而闻名，包括《秘密花园》和《小法兰克罗伊》。《小公主》讲述了萨拉·克鲁的故事，一个年轻女孩在逆境和失去中挣扎，但始终保持着她的善良、想象力和尊严。这部小说探讨了韧性、慷慨和想象力的力量等主题。
详细解读和意义
这段摘录捕捉了萨拉的关键时刻，曾经贫穷和受到虐待的孩子，被一个充满关怀的家庭和一个富有同情心的绅士卡里斯福德先生所拥抱。这个故事突出了萨拉的生活从困境到舒适的转变，但更重要的是，它展示了她如何对遭受痛苦的其他人保持慷慨和同情心，比如面包店里饥饿的孩子们。萨拉帮助饥饿孩子的愿望反映了她对贫困和善良的深刻理解，这种理解超越了她自己改变了的环境。
叙述还强调了友谊和支持的重要性。这位印度绅士最初是一个孤独和不快乐的人，通过与萨拉的友谊找到了快乐和目标。这种相互的治愈和成长说明了善良如何改变双方的生活。
给学生的教训和见解
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同情心和怜悯心： 萨拉的故事教导学生要关注他人的挣扎，并以善良回应。即使一个人的处境有所改善，记住那些不幸的人并帮助他们是人性中一个强大的教训。
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韧性和乐观： 尽管萨拉经历了许多磨难，但她从未失去希望或高贵的精神。学生们可以学会勇敢地面对困难，并保持积极的态度。
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想象力的力量： 萨拉即使在寒冷的阁楼里也能想象魔法和美丽，这表明创造力如何在艰难时期带来安慰和快乐。这鼓励学生培养他们的想象力作为力量的源泉。
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友谊和支持： 萨拉和印度绅士之间的纽带教会了真正的友谊的价值，以及它如何激发个人成长和幸福。
在日常生活中应用这些教训
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在学校： 学生可以通过善待可能正在挣扎或感到被排斥的同学来练习同情心。他们也可以在面对学业挑战时保持乐观，就像萨拉保持希望一样。
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在社交场合： 像萨拉一样，学生们可以超越外表和社会地位去理解和帮助他人。小的善行，例如分享或倾听，可以产生很大的不同。
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在个人成长中： 鼓励创造力和想象力可以帮助学生培养解决问题的能力和情感韧性。阅读和讲故事可以成为这种成长的工具。
从故事中培养积极的价值观
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慷慨： 萨拉愿意与一个更饥饿的孩子分享她的面包，这教导了慷慨的重要性。学生们可以学会与有需要的人分享他们的时间、资源或才能。
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感恩： 像萨拉成为公主时那样欣赏自己所拥有的，有助于培养满足感和谦逊。
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勇气： 像萨拉那样有尊严地面对逆境，激励学生在自己的生活中勇敢。
结论
《小公主》不仅仅是一个女孩摆脱贫困的故事；它是一个关于善良、韧性以及爱和友谊的变革力量的永恒教训。参与这个故事的学生可以培养同情心、乐观精神和慷慨精神——这些品质将在学校、友谊和更广阔的世界中对他们有所帮助。通过萨拉的榜样，年轻的读者们了解到，真正的贵族精神来自内心，而不是财富或地位，并且每个人都有能力让世界变得更美好。
