Марк Твен: Приключения Тома Сойера / The Adventures of Tom Sawyer

‘Well, what?’

‘Why, old Mr. Jones is going to try to spring something on the people here to-night, but I overheard him tell auntie to-day about it, as a secret, but I reckon it’s not much of a secret now. Everybody knows – the widow, too, for all she tries to let on she don’t. Mr. Jones was bound Huck should be here – couldn’t get along with his grand secret without Huck, you know!’

‘Secret about what, Sid?’

‘About Huck tracking the robbers to the widow’s. I reckon Mr. Jones was going to make a grand time over his surprise, but I bet you it will drop pretty flat.’

Sid chuckled in a very contented and satisfied way.

‘Sid, was it you that told?’

‘Oh, never mind who it was. SOMEBODY told – that’s enough.’

‘Sid, there’s only one person in this town mean enough to do that, and that’s you. If you had been in Huck’s place you’d ’a’ sneaked down the hill and never told anybody on the robbers. You can’t do any but mean things, and you can’t bear to see anybody praised for doing good ones. There – no thanks, as the widow says’ – and Tom cuffed Sid’s ears and helped him to the door with several kicks. ‘Now go and tell auntie if you dare – and to-morrow you’ll catch it!’

Some minutes later the widow’s guests were at the supper-table, and a dozen children were propped up at little side-tables in the same room, after the fashion of that country and that day. At the proper time Mr. Jones made his little speech, in which he thanked the widow for the honor she was doing himself and his sons, but said that there was another person whose modesty —

And so forth and so on. He sprung his secret about Huck’s share in the adventure in the finest dramatic manner he was master of, but the surprise it occasioned was largely counterfeit and not as clamorous and effusive as it might have been under happier circumstances. However, the widow made a pretty fair show of astonishment, and heaped so many compliments and so much gratitude upon Huck that he almost forgot the nearly intolerable discomfort of his new clothes in the entirely intolerable discomfort of being set up as a target for everybody’s gaze and everybody’s laudations.

The widow said she meant to give Huck a home under her roof and have him educated; and that when she could spare the money she would start him in business in a modest way. Tom’s chance was come. He said: ‘Huck don’t need it. Huck’s rich.’

Nothing but a heavy strain upon the good manners of the company kept back the due and proper complimentary laugh at this pleasant joke. But the silence was a little awkward. Tom broke it:

‘Huck’s got money. Maybe you don’t believe it, but he’s got lots of it. Oh, you needn’t smile – I reckon I can show you. You just wait a minute.’

Tom ran out of doors. The company looked at each other with a perplexed interest – and inquiringly at Huck, who was tongue-tied.

‘Sid, what ails Tom?’ said Aunt Polly. ‘He – well, there ain’t ever any making of that boy out. I never – ’

Tom entered, struggling with the weight of his sacks, and Aunt Polly did not finish her sentence. Tom poured the mass of yellow coin upon the table and said:

‘There – what did I tell you? Half of it’s Huck’s and half of it’s mine!’

The spectacle took the general breath away. All gazed, nobody spoke for a moment. Then there was a unanimous call for an explanation. Tom said he could furnish it, and he did. The tale was long, but brimful of interest. There was scarcely an interruption from any one to break the charm of its flow. When he had finished, Mr. Jones said:

‘I thought I had fixed up a little surprise for this occasion, but it don’t amount to anything now. This one makes it sing mighty small, I’m willing to allow.’

The money was counted. The sum amounted to a little over twelve thousand dollars. It was more than any one present had ever seen at one time before, though several persons were there who were worth considerably more than that in property.

The reader may rest satisfied that Tom’s and Huck’s windfall made a mighty stir in the poor little village of St. Petersburg. So vast a sum, all in actual cash, seemed next to incredible. It was talked about, gloated over, glorified, until the reason of many of the citizens tottered under the strain of the unhealthy excitement. Every ‘haunted’ house in St. Petersburg and the neighboring villages was dissected, plank by plank, and its foundations dug up and ransacked for hidden treasure – and not by boys, but men – pretty grave, unromantic men, too, some of them. Wherever Tom and Huck appeared they were courted, admired, stared at. The boys were not able to remember that their remarks had possessed weight before; but now their sayings were treasured and repeated; everything they did seemed somehow to be regarded as remarkable; they had evidently lost the power of doing and saying commonplace things; moreover, their past history was raked up and discovered to bear marks of conspicuous originality. The village paper published biographical sketches of the boys.

The Widow Douglas put Huck’s money out at six per cent., and Judge Thatcher did the same with Tom’s at Aunt Polly’s request. Each lad had an income, now, that was simply prodigious – a dollar for every week-day in the year and half of the Sundays. It was just what the minister got – no, it was what he was promised – he generally couldn’t collect it. A dollar and a quarter a week would board, lodge, and school a boy in those old simple days – and clothe him and wash him, too, for that matter.

Judge Thatcher had conceived a great opinion of Tom. He said that no commonplace boy would ever have got his daughter out of the cave. When Becky told her father, in strict confidence, how Tom had taken her whipping at school, the Judge was visibly moved; and when she pleaded grace for the mighty lie which Tom had told in order to shift that whipping from her shoulders to his own, the Judge said with a fine outburst that it was a noble, a generous, a magnanimous lie – a lie that was worthy to hold up its head and march down through history breast to breast with George Washington’s [97] George Washington (1732–1799) – главнокомандующий в американской Войне за независимость в 1775–1783 гг. и первый президент Соединенных Штатов в 1789–1797 гг. lauded Truth about the hatchet! [98] Hatchet – ручной топор; томагавк – боевой топорик (hatchet), использовавшийся североамериканскими индейцами.[99] Имеется в виду легендарная история о шестилетнем Джордже Вашингтоне. Получив в подарок топорик, он испробовал его на любимой вишне отца, и когда тот в гневе потребовал объяснений, честно признался, что это сделал он. Отец тут же перестал сердиться, восхитившись правдивостью сына. (Прим. ред.) Becky thought her father had never looked so tall and so superb as when he walked the floor and stamped his foot and said that. She went straight off and told Tom about it.

Judge Thatcher hoped to see Tom a great lawyer or a great soldier some day. He said he meant to look to it that Tom should be admitted to the National Military Academy and afterward trained in the best law school in the country, in order that he might be ready for either career or both.

Huck Finn’s wealth and the fact that he was now under the Widow Douglas’ protection introduced him into society – no, dragged him into it, hurled him into it – and his sufferings were almost more than he could bear. The widow’s servants kept him clean and neat, combed and brushed, and they bedded him nightly in unsympathetic sheets that had not one little spot or stain which he could press to his heart and know for a friend. He had to eat with a knife and fork; he had to use napkin, cup, and plate; he had to learn his book, he had to go to church; he had to talk so properly that speech was become insipid in his mouth; whithersoever he turned, the bars and shackles of civilization shut him in and bound him hand and foot.