Текст книги "Принц и нищий / The Prince and the Pauper"

Марк Твен / Mark Twain
Принц и нищий / The Prince and the Pauper

Адаптация текста и словарь Е. В. Глушенковой

© Глушенкова Е.В., адаптация текста, словарь

© ООО «Издательство АСТ», 2019

1

In the old city of London, on an autumn day in the sixteenth century, a boy was born to a poor family of the name of Canty, who did not want him. On the same day another English child was born to a rich family of the name of Tudor, who wanted him. All England wanted him too. England had so wanted him, and hoped for him, that now the people were mad with joy. Everybody kissed each other and cried. Everybody took a holiday, and rich and poor ate and danced and sang for days and nights. There was no talk in all England but of the new baby, Edward Tudor, Prince of Wales[1]1
  Prince of Wales – принц Уэльский, традиционный титул наследника английского престола


[Закрыть]. But there was no talk about the other baby, Tom Canty, except among the family of paupers whom he had only brought more trouble.

London was an old and great town. It had a hundred thousand inhabitants—some think double as many. The streets were very narrow and dirty, especially in the part where Tom Canty lived, which was not far from London Bridge. The houses were of wood, with the second storey projecting over the first, and the third projecting over the second. The higher the houses grew, the broader they were. The windows were small, and they opened outward, like doors.

The house in which Tom’s father lived was in a dirty little place called Offal Court[2]2
  Offal Court – переулок Потрохов


[Закрыть], near Pudding Lane. It was packed full of poor families. Canty’s family had a room on the third floor. The mother and father had a bed in the corner; but Tom, his grandmother, and his two sisters, Bet and Nan, slept on the floor on bags of dirty straw.

Bet and Nan were fifteen-year-old twins. They were kind girls, dirty, dressed in rags, and ignorant. Their mother was like them. But the father and the grandmother got drunk whenever they could; then they fought each other or anybody who came their way; they cursed and swore always. John Canty was a thief, and his mother a beggar. They made beggars of the children, but could not make thieves of them. Among those who lived in the house, was a good old priest, and he taught the children secretly. Father Andrew also taught Tom a little Latin, and how to read and write; and would have done the same with the girls, but they were afraid of their friends laughing at them.

All Offal Court was just like the Canties. Drinking and fighting were there every night. Broken heads were as common as hunger in that place. Yet little Tom was not unhappy. All the Offal Court boys lived like that and thought it was correct. When he came home empty-handed at night, he knew his father and grandmother would curse and beat him. In the night his mother would slip to him and give him something to eat.

So Tom’s life went along quite well. By day he begged, and by night he listened to Father Andrew’s tales and legends about giants and fairies, and kings and princes. His head was full of these wonderful things, and he dreamed of seeing a real prince, with his own eyes.

He often read the priest’s old books, and his dreams and reading worked some changes in him by-and-by. His dream-people were so fine that he wished to be clean and better dressed. He began to wash himself sometimes in the Thames.

By-and-by Tom’s reading and dreaming about princes’ life had such a strong effect on him that he began to ACT the prince, unconsciously. His speech and manners became ceremonious and courtly to everybody’s admiration and amusement. Tom’s influence among young people began to grow. He seemed to know so much! and he could do and say such marvellous things! and he was so wise! Now grown people brought their problems to Tom, and were often astonished at the wisdom of his decisions. In fact he was a hero to all who knew him except his own family who saw nothing in him.

Privately, after a while, Tom organised a royal court! He was the prince; his friends were his guards, lords and ladies, and the royal family. Daily the mock prince was greeted with elaborate ceremonies, which Tom read about in his books. After that, he would go beg for money, eat whatever he could find, and then go home and lay on foul straw, dreaming.

Presently his wish to see a real prince became the only passion of his life. One January day, he was walking around Mincing Lane and Little East Cheap, hour after hour, bare-footed and cold, looking in at shop windows. It was raining. At night Tom reached home so wet and tired and hungry that even his father and grandmother didn’t bother him.

For a long time his hunger kept him awake; but at last he fell asleep, and dreamt of romantic lands, of jewelled princes who live in palaces, and had servants flying to execute their orders.

All night long he dreamt that he moved among great lords and ladies, in a blaze of light, breathing perfumes, listening to music, and talking to the rich and the famous.

And when he awoke in the morning and looked upon what was around him, bitterness came, and with it, tears.

2

One day Tom got up hungry, and left home hungry. He walked here and there in the city, hardly noticing where he was going, or what was happening around him. Some time later he found himself near a majestic palace—Westminster—the farthest from home he had ever walked. He stared in wonder at the vast pile of masonry, the wide-spreading wings, the frowning bastions and turrets, the huge stone gateway, with its gilded bars and colossal granite lions, and other the signs and symbols of English royalty. Here was a king’s palace. And Tom hoped he would see a prince now.

At each side of the gate stood a soldier. There was a crowd of people waiting for a chance to see a royalty. Poor little Tom, in his rags, approached, and saw a boy, shining with jewels. He was tanned and brown with outdoor sports and exercises, his clothing was all of lovely silks and satins; at his hip there was a little jewelled sword and dagger; on his feet there were dainty buskins, with red heels; and on his head a crimson cap, with feathers fastened with a big sparkling gem. Several fine gentlemen stood near—his servants, no doubt. Oh! he was a prince—a living prince, a real prince!

Tom’s eyes grew big with wonder and delight. Before he knew what he was doing, he went up to the gate. The next moment one of the soldiers snatched him rudely, and threw him into the crowd. They laughed; but the young prince ran to the gate, and cried out, “How dare you treat a poor boy like that? Open the gates, and let him in!”

The crowd shouted, “Long live the Prince of Wales!”

The soldiers opened the gates, and Tom came in.

Edward Tudor said—

“You look tired and hungry. Come with me.”

Half a dozen attendants sprang forward to interfere, but they were waved aside with a right royal gesture, and they stopped where they were, like statues. Edward took Tom to the palace, to the room which he called his cabinet. Food was brought in. The prince sent away the servants, sat nearby, and asked questions while Tom ate.

“What is your name, boy?”

“Tom Canty, sir.”

“Where do you live?”

“In the city, sir. Offal Court, near Pudding Lane.”

“Offal Court! An odd name. Do you have parents?”

“I have parents, sir, and a grandmother, also twin sisters, Nan and Bet.”

“How old are they?”

“Fifteen, sir.”

“Lady Elizabeth, my sister, is fourteen, and Lady Jane Grey, my cousin, is of my own age; but my sister Lady Mary—Are your sisters kind to their servants?”

“Do you think, sir, that they have servants?”

“And who helps them undress at night? Who dresses them when they get up?”

“Nobody, sir. Why should they take off their dress[3]3
  Why should they take off their dress…? – Зачем им снимать платье…?


[Закрыть], and sleep like the animals?”

“Their dress! Do they have only one?”

“Ah, what would they do with more? They do not have two bodies each.”

“It is a marvellous thought! You speak well. Are you learned?”

“I do not know, sir. The good priest that is called Father Andrew taught me from his books.”

“Do you know Latin?”

“A little, sir.”

“Tell me of your Offal Court. Do you have a pleasant life there?”

“Yes, sir, except when one is hungry. There are Punch-and-Judy shows[4]4
  Punch-and-Judy shows – традиционное английское кукольное представление, главными героями которого являются Панч и его жена Джуди


[Закрыть], and monkeys, and plays, and it is so fine to see them.”

“Tell me more.”

“We boys of Offal Court fight with each other sometimes. In summer, sir, we swim in the canals and in the river. We dance and sing around the Maypole; we play in the sand, and we make mud pastry—”

“Oh, it is marvellous! If I could put on your clothes and walk in the sand once, I could refuse the crown!”

“And if I could be dressed once like you, sir,—just once-”

“Oho, would you like it? Then so shall it be[5]5
  Then so shall it be. – Да будет так. (Здесь глагол ‘shall’ имеет модальное значение, придавая действию в будущем времени оттенок приказания. Кроме того, глагол ‘shall’ в модальном значении может обозначать обещание, угрозу, предостережение, что многократно продемонстрировано ниже в данном произведении)


[Закрыть]. Take off your rags, and put on my clothes! We will have our happiness.”

A few minutes later the Prince of Wales was dressed in Tom’s rags, and Tom put on the clothes of royalty. The two went and stood side by side before a great mirror, and they saw they looked very much alike! At last the puzzled prince said:“You have the same hair, the same eyes, the same voice and manner, the same face that I have. Without clothes, nobody could say which is you, and which the Prince of Wales. And, now that I am dressed as you were dressed, I shall be able to feel as you do. Stay here till I come again! It is a command!”

3

In a moment the prince was out of the door and running through the palace in his rags. As soon as he reached the gate, he tried to shake it, shouting—

“Open the gate!”

The soldier that had thrown Tom away gave him a box on the ear[6]6
  gave him a box on the ear – влепил ему оплеуху


[Закрыть] that sent him to the road.

The crowd laughed. The prince rose out of the mud and shouted—

“I am the Prince of Wales, my person is sacred!” The soldier said mockingly—

“I salute your Highness.” Then angrily—“Be off, you crazy rubbish!”

Here the laughing crowd pushed him down the road, shouting—

“Way for his Royal Highness! Way for the Prince of Wales!”

The prince looked about him. He was in London—that was all he knew. He walked around, and in a little while there were less houses and people around him. He bathed his bleeding feet in the brook, rested a few moments, then continued walking, and presently came upon a great space with only a few scattered houses in it, and a church. He recognised this church. There was scaffolding everywhere, and a lot of workmen; the church was undergoing repairs. The prince felt that this was the end of his troubles. He said to himself, “It is the ancient Grey Friars’ Church, which my father, the king, turned into a home for poor and forsaken children. Gladly will they serve the son of the one that has was so generous to them.”

He was soon found himself in the midst of a crowd of boys who were running, jumping, playing with ball, and right noisily, too. They were all dressed alike.

The boys stopped their play and surrounded about the prince, who said with dignity—

“Good lads, say to your master that Edward Prince of Wales wants to speak with him.”

They all talked at once, and then one of them said—

“Are you his messenger, beggar?”

The prince’s face flushed with anger, and his hand flew to his hip, but there was nothing there. There was a storm of laughter, and one boy said—

“Did you see that? He thought he had a sword—like he is the prince himself.”

This brought more laughter. Poor Edward proudly said—

“I am the prince.”

More laughter again. The boy who had first spoken, shouted to his friends—

“Well, where are your manners? Down on your knees, everyone!”

Laughing, they dropped upon their knees and did mock homage to him. The prince kicked the nearest boy with his foot, and said—

“Take that! Unless you want to hang tomorrow!”

And now this was going beyond fun. The laughter stopped, and fury took its place. A dozen shouted—

“Grab him! To the horse-pond, to the horse-pond!”

And what happened than was a thing England had never seen before—the heir to the throne beaten by commoner hands, and torn by dogs.

As night fell, the prince found himself far down in the poor part of the city. His body was bruised, his hands were bleeding, and his rags were dirty with mud.

He walked on and on, and grew more and more bewildered, and so tired that he could hardly put one foot after the other. He kept muttering to himself, “Offal Court—that is the name; if I can find, then I am saved—his people will take me to the palace and prove that I am the true prince.”

It started raining, the wind rose. The homeless heir to the throne of England still walked on deeper and deeper into the maze of small dirty streets.

Suddenly a big drunken ruffian took him by the collar and said—

“Out so late at night again, and if you have not brought anything home, and I do not break all the bones in your body, then am I not John Canty!”

The prince twisted himself out of the big hand, and said—

“Oh, are you his father? Then you will take him home and bring me back!”

“His father? I do not know what you mean; I am your father—”

“Oh, hurry up!—I am tired, I can bear no more. Take me to the king my father, and he will make you rich as you have never dreamed. Believe me, man! I am indeed the Prince of Wales!”

The man looked down at the boy, then shook his head and muttered—

“He has gone mad!”—then said with a coarse laugh, “I and Mother will soon find where the soft places in your bones are!”

With this he dragged the struggling prince to a dark dirty house.

4

Tom Canty, left alone in the prince’s cabinet, made good use of his opportunity. He walked up to the great mirror, admiring his fine clothes; then walked around, imitating the prince, observing results in the glass. Tom played with a jewelled dagger; he tried each of the great chairs, and thought how proud he would be if the Offal Court boys could see him in this palace. He wondered if they would believe the marvellous tale he would tell them when he got home.

At the end of half an hour it suddenly occurred to him that the prince was gone a long time; then he began to feel lonely; stopped playing with the pretty things about him; he grew uneasy. What if someone should come, and catch him in the prince’s clothes, and the prince will not be there to explain? His fear rose higher and higher; and he decided to look for the prince, and opened the door. Six gentlemen-servants and two young pages, dressed like butterflies, sprang to their feet and bowed low before him. He quickly closed the door, and said—

“Oh, they mock at me! They will go and tell. Oh! why did I come here?”

He walked up and down the room, filled with fear. Presently the door opened, and a page said—

“Lady Jane Grey.”

A sweet young girl, richly dressed, came toward him. But she stopped suddenly, and said—

“Oh, what is wrong with you, my lord?”

Tom was hardly able to speak—

“I am no lord, but only poor Tom Canty of Offal Court. Please let me see the prince, and he will give me back my rags, and let me go home. Oh, save me!”

By this time the boy was on his knees. The young girl seemed horror-stricken. She cried out—

“O my lord, on your knees?—and to me!” Then she left the room; and Tom murmured in despair—

“There is no help, there is no hope.”

While he waited there horror-stricken, dreadful news flew through the palace. The whisper flew from servant to servant, from lord to lady, down all the long corridors, “The prince has gone mad, the prince has gone mad!” Soon every hall had groups of lords and ladies and other groups of servants talking in whispers. Presently a splendid official marched by these groups, and made a proclamation—

“IN THE NAME OF THE KING!

Let nobody listen to this false and foolish matter, upon pain of death, nor discuss the same, nor carry it abroad. In the name of the King![7]7
  “IN THE NAME OF THE KING! Let nobody listen to this false and foolish matter, upon pain of death, nor discuss the same, nor carry it abroad. In the name of the King!” – Именем короля! Пусть никто не слушает эти лживые и глупые слухи под страхом смерти, и не обсуждает их и не выносит за пределы дворца. Именем короля!


[Закрыть]”

And whispering stopped suddenly.

Soon Tom was slowly walking past the low-bowing groups, looking at his strange surroundings with bewildered eyes. Great nobles walked on each side of him. Behind him followed the court-physicians and some servants.

Presently Tom found himself in a splendid apartment. Around him stood those who had come with him. Before him, sat a very large and very fat man, with a wide stern face. His large head was very grey. His clothes were rich, but old and a little worn. One of his swollen legs lay on a pillow, and was bandaged. There was silence now. This stern-faced invalid was the dreadful Henry VIII. He said—and his face grew gentle as he began to speak—

“How are you, my lord Edward? Have you decided to play a trick on me, the King your father, who loves you?”

Poor Tom was listening to this speech; but when he heard the words ‘me, the King’, his face paled, and he dropped on his knees. He exclaimed—

“Are you the King?”

The King looked bewildered at the boy before him. Then he said—

“Alas, I did not believe the rumour; but I fear it is true.” He said in a gentle voice, “Come to your father, child, you are not well.” Tom approached the King of England, humble and trembling. The King took the frightened face between his hands, then pressed the boy’s head to his breast. Presently he said—

“Do you not know your father, child? Do not break my old heart; say you know me.”

“Yes, you are the King!”

“True, true, do not tremble so. Everyone loves you here. You will not say again that you are not the prince?”

“Please believe me, I told the truth, my lord; for I am a pauper, and it is by accident that I am here! I may go now?”

“Go? Yes, if you wish to. Where do you wish to go?”

Tom answered humbly—

“To the place where my mother and my sisters are, and is home to me; I am not used to this splendid palace—oh, please, sir, let me go!”

The King was silent and thoughtful a while, and his face showed uneasiness. Presently he said, with hope in his voice—

“Perhaps he is mad on this one thing. We will make a test.”

Then he asked Tom a question in Latin, and Tom answered him slowly in the same language. The lords and doctors showed their satisfaction. The King said—

“It shows that his mind is diseased, but not gone. What would you say, sir?”

The court physician bowed low and said—“I believe, sir, that you are right.”

The King looked pleased and continued—“Now we will try him further.”

He put a question to Tom in French. Tom stood silent a moment, then said—

“I do not know this language, your Majesty.” The King looked unhappy and said—

“Come here, child; rest your poor head on your father’s breast. You’ll soon be well. Don’t fear. You’ll soon be well.” Then he turned to the lords: his gentle manner changed. He said furiously—

“Listen you all! My son is mad; but it is not for long. Over-study has done this. Away with his books and teachers! Let him play sports, so that his health comes again.” He went on with energy, “He is mad; but he is my son, and England’s heir; and he will be King! And whoever speaks of his illness will be hanged! … Give me to drink: this sorrow takes my strength… Support me. Mad, is he? Yet he is he Prince of Wales!”

One of the nobles knelt to the king, and said—

“Your majesty, the Hereditary Great Marshal of England is imprisoned in the Tower. He cannot—”

“Quiet! Do not speak his name. Is this man to live forever? Is the prince to not become king, because, at the moment, the realm lacks an Earl Marshal to honour him? No!”

Lord Hertford said—

“The King’s will is law;” and, rising, returned to his former place.

The fury had left the old King’s face, and he said—

“Kiss me, my prince. There … what are you afraid of? Am I not your loving father?”

“You are, my lord: that in truth I know. But—but—it pains me to think that he has to die, and—”

“Ah, it’s like you! I know your heart is still the same, even though your mind is not, for you always had a gentle spirit. But this duke stands between you and your right: I will have another in his stead. Do not trouble your poor head with this matter. Kiss me once again, and go; I need rest. Go with your uncle Hertford and your people, and come again when I feel better.”

Tom left heavy-hearted, for the last sentence was a death-blow to his hopes of being set free.

5

Tom felt like a prisoner.

In the prince’s apartment, Tom sat down and looked at the lords standing around him. He asked them to sit down, but they thanked him, and remained standing. He insisted, but his ‘uncle’ the Earl of Hertford whispered in his ear—“Please, do not insist, my lord; they must not sit in your presence.”

Lord St. John came, and bowing to Tom said he had come from the King on a mission that could only be discussed in private. Only the Earl of Hertford could remain.

When the lords left the apartment, Lord St. John said—

“His majesty commands that the prince shall hide his illness[8]8
  His majesty commands that the prince shall hide his illness. – Его величество приказывает принцу скрывать свою болезнь.


[Закрыть]. That he shall not deny that he is the true prince, and heir to England’s throne; that he shall behave as is proper; that he shall stop speaking to anyone of his low birth; that he shall try hard to remember everything; that he shall not show that he has forgotten; that whatever bewilders him, he shall take advice of Lord Hertford or myself. His majesty asks to give him back the Great Seal, that he gave you to keep for a while three days ago. He must put it on some important papers.”

Tom replied—

“I shall do what the King has said. But he did not give the Seal to ME. I do not know where it is.”

Lord Hertford said—

“As to the books and other serious matters, it may perhaps be better to have a rest today not to be too tired at the banquet.”

Tom’s face showed surprise; and he blushed when he saw pity in Lord St. John’s eyes, as he said—

“Your memory is not very good, and you have shown surprise. Lord Hertford speaks of the city’s banquet which the King promised two months ago you would attend. Do you remember it now?”

“I am sorry, I don’t,” said Tom, and blushed again.

At this moment Lady Elizabeth and Lady Jane Grey entered. Hertford went quickly to the door. He said to the girls in a low voice—

“Please, ladies, do not show surprise when his memory is not good.”

At the same time Lord St. John said in Tom’s ear—

“Please, sir, keep in mind his majesty’s order. SEEM to remember all. Do not show that you have changed.”

Tom nodded, for he was already learning, and was resolved to try to fit in as best as he could, according to the King’s command.

In spite of every precaution, the conversation among the young people became a little embarrassing at times; but the tact of Princess Elizabeth saved him, or a word from the lords helped him. One time the little Lady Jane turned to Tom and asked him—

“Have you paid thy duty to the Queen’s majesty today, my lord?”

Tom hesitated and was about to stammer out something quick, when Lord St. John answered for him—

“He has indeed, madam, and she did hearten him, considering his majesty’s condition; is it not so, your highness?”

Tom mumbled something that sounded like approval, but felt that it was getting more and more difficult to talk. Some time later it was said that Tom was to study no more at present, and Princess Elizabeth exclaimed—

“It is a pity! You made great progress. But you will learn and know as many languages as his majesty, your father.”

“My father!” cried Tom.“He cannot speak his own, not better than a swine!”

He stopped, blushed, then continued sadly:“Ah, my illness—I do not know what I am saying. I meant to offence to the King’s grace.”

“We know it, sir,” said Princess Elizabeth;“do not trouble yourself as to that.”

“Thank you, my lady,” said Tom, gratefully. When he learned that the little ladies were to accompany him to the banquet in the evening, he was glad, for he felt that he would have friends at his side among strangers.

Once the giddy little Lady Jane asked Tom a simple question in Greek. Princess Elizabeth saw that he didn’t ‘remember’ Greek; so she answered it herself on on Tom’s behalf, and then straightway changed the talk to other matters.

The more they talked, the more Tom grew at ease, seeing that everyone wanted to help him. When he learned that the little ladies were to accompany him to the Lord Mayor’s banquet in the evening, he felt relief and delight, since now he would have friends among that multitude of strangers.

Tom’s guardian angels, the two lords, had had less comfort during this talk. They felt much as if they were piloting a great ship through a dangerous channel; they were on the alert constantly. So, at last, when the ladies’ visit was coming to an end, they not only felt that the prince was tired, but also that they themselves were not in the best condition to take their ship back and make their voyage all over again. So they advised Tom to excuse himself, which he was very glad to do.

When the young ladies were gone, Tom turned to the lords and said—

“May I please rest?”

Lord Hertford said—

“It is for you to command, it is for us to obey[9]9
  It is for you to command, it is for us to obey – Вы повелеваете, а мы подчиняемся


[Закрыть]. You should rest indeed, since you must go to the city presently.”

In his apartment Tom wanted to take a cup of water; but a servant seized it, dropped on one knee, and offered it to him. Then the tired prisoner sat down and was going to take off his shoes, but another servant went down on his knees and took them off.

After Tom left, the two noble guardians were alone. They were silent a while, then Lord St. John said—

“What do you think?”

“The King is near his end; my nephew is mad. God protect England!”

“Do you have any suspicions as to… as to…” Lord St. John stopped. He evidently was afraid to speak. Lord Hertford looked into his face, and said—

“Speak on—there is nobody to hear but me. Suspicions as to what?”

“I hate what is in my mind, and you are so near to him in blood, my lord. Does it not seem strange that madness could so change him? His speech is the same, but he is DIFFERENT, in one thing or another. Does it not seem strange that he forgot his father’s face, his manners, his French, but he remembers Latin? My lord, I cannot forget his saying he was not the prince, and so—”

“My lord, it is treason! Have you forgotten the King’s command? Remember I am also a criminal if I listen.”

St. John paled, and said—

“Do not tell anyone, and I will neither think nor speak of this thing any more.”

“You needn’t have suspicions. He is my sister’s son; I have known his voice, his face all his life. This is the prince—I know him well—and soon he will be King.”

After Lord St. John left, Lord Hertford sat down. He was soon deep in thought, and evidently the longer he thought, the more he was bothered.

“He MUST be the prince! Can any one be so much like him? No, no! If he were an impostor he would call himself prince. What impostor would call himself a pauper? NO! This is the true prince, gone mad!”