安妮日记英文版_安妮·弗兰克-第25章

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rgue　with　the　speaker。

one…fifteen。　food　distribution。　everyone　from　downstairs　gets　a　cup　of　soup；　plus　dessert；　if　there　happens　to　be　any。　a　contented　mr。　gies　sits　on　the　divan　or　leans　against　the　desk　with　his　newspaper；　cup　and　usually　the　cat　at　his　side。　if　one　of　the　three　is　missing；　he　doesnt　hesitate　to　let　his　protest　be　heard。　mr。　kleiman　relates　the　latest　news　from　town；　and　hes　an　excellent　source。　mr。　kugler　hurries　up　the　stairs；　gives　a　short　but　solid　knock　on　the　door　and　es　in　either　wringing　his　hands　or　rubbing　them　in　glee；　depending　on　whether　hes　quiet　and　in　a　bad　mood　or　talkative　and　in　a　good　mood。

one　forty…five。　everyone　rises　from　the　table　and　goes　about　their　business。　margot　and　mother　do　the　dishes；　mr。　and　mrs。　van　d。　head　for　the　divan；　peter　for　the　attic；　father　for　his　divan；　dussel　too；　and　anne　does　her　homework。

what　es　next　is　the　quietest　hour　of　the　day；　when　theyre　all　asleep；　there　are　no　disturbances。　to　judge　by　his　face；　dussel　is　dreaming　of　food。　but　i　dont　look　at　him　long；　because　the　time　whizzes　by　and　before　you　know　it；　itll　be　4　p。m。　and　the　pedantic　dr。　dussel　will　be　standing　with　the　clock　in　his　hand　because　im　one　minute　；late　clearing　off　the　table。

yours；　anne　

saturday；　august　7；　1943

dearest　kitty；

a　few　weeks　ago　i　started　writing　a　story；　something　i　made　up　from　beginning　to　end；　and　ive　enjoyed　it　so　much　that　the　products　of　my　pen　are　piling　up。

yours；　anne　

monday；　august　9；　1943

dearest　kitty；

we　now　continue　with　a　typical　day　in　the　annex。　since　weve　already　had　lunch；　its　time　to　describe　dinner。

mr。　van　daan。　is　served　first；　and　takes　a　generous　portion　of　whatever　he　likes。

usually　joins　in　the　conversation；　never　fails　to　give　his　opinion。　once　hes　spoken；　his　word　is　final。　if　anyone　dares　to　suggest　otherwise；　mr。　van　d。　can　put　up　a　good　fight。　oh；　he　can　hiss　like　a　cat。　。　。　but　id　rather　he　didnt。　once　youve　seen　it；　you　never　want　to　see　it　again。　his　opinion　is　the　best；　he　knows　the　most　about　everything。　granted；　the　man　has　a　good　head　on　his　shoulders；　but　its　swelled　to　no　small　degree。

madame。　actually；　the　best　thing　would　be　to　say　nothing。　some　days；　especially　when　a　foul　mood　is　on　the　way；　her　face　is　hard　to　read。　if　you　analyze　the　discussions；　you　realize　shes　not　the　subject；　but　the　guilty　party！　a　fact　everyone　prefers　to　ignore。　even　so；　you　could　call　her　the　instigator。　stirring　up　trouble；　now　thats　what　mrs。　van　daan　calls　fun。　stirring　up　trouble　between　mrs。　frank　and　anne。　margot　and　mr。　frank　aren　t　qwte　as　easy。

but　lets　return　to　the　table。　mrs。　van　d。　may　think　she　doesnt　always　get　enough；　but　thats　not　the　case。　the　choicest　potatoes；　the　tastiest　morsel；　the　tenderest　bit　of　whatever　there　is；　thats　madames　motto。　the　others　can　all　have　their　turn；　as　long　as　i　get　the　best。　（exactly　what　she　accuses　anne　frank　of　doing。）　her　second　watchword　is：　keep　talking。　as　long　as　somebodys　listening；　it　doesnt　seem　to　occur　to　her　to　wonder　whether　theyre　interested。　she　must　think　that　whatever　mrs。　van　daan　says　will　interest　everyone。

smile　coquettishly；　pretend　you　know　everything；　offer　everyone　a　piece　of　advice　and　mother　them　　thats　sure　to　make　a　good　impression。　but　if　you　take　a　better　look；　the　good　impression　fades。　one；　shes　hardworking；　two；　cheerful；　three；　coquettish　　and　sometimes　a　cute　face。　thats　petronella　van　daan。

the　third　diner。　says　very　little。　young　mr。　van　daan　is　usually　quiet　and　hardly　makes　his　presence　known。　as　far　as　his　appetite　is　concerned；　hes　a　danaldean　vessel　that　never　gets　full。　even　after　the　most　substantial　meal；　he　can　look　you　calmly　in　the　eye　and　claim　he　could　have　eaten　twice　as　much。

number　four　　margot。　eats　like　a　bird　and　doesnt　talk　at　all。　she　eats　only　vegetables　and　fruit。　〃spoiled；〃　in　the　opinion　of　the　van　daans。　〃too　little　exercise　and　fresh　air；〃　in　ours。

beside　her　　mama。　has　a　hearty　appetite；　does　her　share　of　the　talking。　no　one　has　the　impression；　as　they　do　with　mrs。　van　daan；　that　this　is　a　housewife。　whats　the　difference　between　the　two？　well；　mrs。　van　d。　does　the　cooking　and　mother　does　the　dishes　and　polishes　the　furniture。

numbers　six　and　seven。　i　wont　say　much　about　father　and　me。　the　former　is　the　most　modest　person　at　the　table。　he　always　looks　to　see　whether　the　others　have　been　served　first。　he　needs　nothing　for　himself；　the　best　things　are　for　the　children。

hes　goodness　personified。　seated　next　to　him　is　the　annexs　little　bundle　of　nerves。

dussel。　help　yourself；　keep　your　eyes　on　the　food；　eat　and　dont　talk。　and　if　you　have　to　say　something；　then　for　goodness　sake　talk　about　food。　that　doesnt　lead　to　quarrels；　just　to　bragging。　he　consumes　enormous　portions；　and　〃no〃　is　not　part　of　his　vocabulary；　whether　the　food　is　good　or　bad。

pants　that　e　up　to　his　chest；　a　red　jacket；　black　patent…leather　slippers　and　horn…rimmed　glasses　　thats　how　he　looks　when　hes　at　work　at　the　little　table；　always　studying　and　never　progressing。　this　is　interrupted　only　by　his　afternoon　nap；　food　and　　his　favorite　spot　　the　bathroom。　three；　four　or　five　times　a　day　theres　bound　to　be　someone　waiting　outside　the　bathroom　door；　hopping　impatiently　from　one　foot　to　another；　trying　to　hold　it　in　and　barely　managing。　does　dussel　care？

not　a　whit。　from　seven…fifteen　to　seven…thirty；　from　twelve…thirty　to　one；　from　two　to　two…fifteen；　from　four　to　four…fifteen；　from　six　to　six…fifteen；　from　eleven…thirty　to　twelve。　you　can　set　your　watch　by　them；　these　are　the　times　for　his　〃regular　sessions。〃　he　never　deviates　or　lets　himself　be　swayed　by　the　voices　outside　the　door；　begging　him　to　open　up　before　a　disaster　occurs。

number　nine　is　not　part　of　our　annex　family；　although　she　does　share　our　house　and　table。　hep　has　a　healthy　appetite。　she　cleans　her　plate　and　isnt　choosy。　heps　easy　to　please　and　that　pleases　us。　she　can　be　characterized　as　follows：　cheerful；　good…humored；　kind　and　willing。

tuesday；　august　10；　1943

dearest　kitty；　。

a　new　idea：　during　meals　i　talk　more　to　myself　than　to　the　others；　which　has　two　advantages。　first；　theyre　glad　they　dont　have　to　listen　to　my　continuous　chatter；　and　second；　i　dont　have　to　get　annoyed　by　their　opinions。　i　dont　think　my　opinions　are　stupid　but　other　people　do；　so　its　better　to　keep　them　to　myself。　i　apply　the　same　tactic　when　i　have　to　eat　something　i　loathe。　i　put　the　dish　in　front　of　me；　pretend　its　delicious；　avoid　looking　at　it　as　much　as　possible；　and　its　gone　before　ive　had　time　to　realize　what　it　is。　when　i　get　up　in　the　morning；　another　very　disagreeable　moment；　i　leap　out　of　bed；　think　to　myself；　〃youll　be　slipping　back　under　the　covers　soon；〃　walk　to　the　window；　take　down　the　blackout　screen；　sniff　at　the　crack　until　i

feel　a　bit　of　fresh　air；　and　im　awake。　i　strip　the　bed　as　fast　as　i　can　so　i　wont　be　tempted　to　get　back　in。　do　you　know　what　mother　calls　this　sort　of　thing？　the　art　of　living。　isnt　that　a　funny　expression？

weve　all　been　a　little　confused　this　past　week　because　our　dearly　beloved　westertoren　bells　have　been　carted　off　to　be　melted　down　for　the　war；　so　we　have　no　idea　of　the　exact　time；　either　night　or　day。　i　still　have　hopes　that　theyll　e　up　with　a　substitute；　made　of　tin　or　copper　or　some　such　thing；　to　remind　the　neighborhood　of　the　clock。

everywhere　i　go；　upstairs　or　down；　they　all　cast　admiring　glances　at　my　feet；　which　are　adorned　by　a　pair　of　exceptionally　beautiful　（for　times　like　these！）　shoes。　miep　managed　to　snap　them　up　for　27。50　guilders。　burgundy…colored　suede　and　leather　with　medium…sized　high　heels。　i　feel　as　if　i　were　on　stilts；　and　look　even　taller　than　i　already　am。

yesterday　was　my　unlucky　day。　i　pricked　my　right　thumb　with　the　blunt　end　of　a　big　needle。　as　a　result；　margot　had　to　peel　potatoes　for　me　（take　the　good　with　the　bad）；　and　writing　was　awkward。　then　i　bumped　into　the　cupboard　door　so　hard　it　nearly　knocked　me　over；　and　was　scolded　for　making　such　a　racket。　they　wouldnt　let　me　run　water　to　bathe　my　forehead；　so　now　im　walking　around　with　a　giant　lump　over　my　right　eye。　to　make　matters　worse；　the　little　toe　on　my　right　foot　got　stuck　in　the　vacuum　cleaner。　it　bled　and　hurt；　but　my　other　ailments　were　already　causing　me　so　much　trouble　that　i　let　this　one　slide；　which　was　stupid　of　me；　because　now　im　walking　around　with　an　infected　toe。　what　with　the　salve；　the　gauze　and　the　tape；　i　cant　get　my　heavenly　new　shoe　on　my　foot。

dussel　has　put　us　in　danger　for　the　umpteenth　time。　he　actually　had　miep　bring　him　a　book；　an　anti…mussolini　tirade；　which　has　been　banned。　on　the　way　here　she　was　knocked　down　by　an　ss　motorcycle。　she　lost　her　head　and　shouted　〃you　brutes！〃　and　went　on　her　way。　i　dont　dare　think　what　would　have　happened　if　shed　been　taken　down　to　headquarters。

yours；　anne　

a　daily　chore　in　our　little　munity：　peeling　potatoes！

one　person　goes　to　get　some　newspapers；　another；　the　knives　（keeping　the　best　for　himself；　of　course）；　the　third；　the　potatoes；　and　the　fourth；　the　water。

mr。　dussel　begins。　he　may　not　always　peel　them　very　well；　but　he　does　peel　nonstop；

glancing　left　and　right　to　see　if　everyone　is　doing　it　the　way　he　does。　no；　theyre　not！

〃look；　an