安妮日记英文版_安妮·弗兰克-第14部分

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mber　what　youve　told　him。

maybe　hes　just　confused　by　the　sudden　change　and　hell　get　over　it。　otherwise；　everything　is　going　fine。

mr。　dussel　has　told　us　much　about　the　outside　world　weve　missed　for　so　long。　he　had　sad　news。　countless　friends　and　acquaintances　have　been　taken　off　to　a　dreadful　fate。　night　after　night；　green　and　gray　military　vehicles　cruise　the　streets。　they　knock　on　every　door；　asking　whether　any　jews　live　there。　if　so；　the　whole　family　is　immediately　taken　away。　if　not；　they　proceed　to　the　next　house。　its　impossible　to　escape　their　clutches　unless　you　go　into　hiding。　they　often　go　around　with　lists；　knocking　only　on　those　doors　where　they　know　theres　a　big　haul　to　be　made。　they　frequently　offer　a　bounty；　so　much　per　head。　its　like　the　slave　hunts　of　the　olden　days。　i　dont　mean　to　make　light　ofthisj　its　much　too　tragic　for　that。　in　the　evenings　when　its　dark；　i　often　see　long　lines　of　good；　innocent　people；　acpanied　by　crying　children；　walking　on　and　on；　ordered　about　by　a　handful　of　men　who　bully　and　beat　them　until　they　nearly　drop。　no　one　is　spared。　the　sick；　the　elderly；　children；　babies　and　pregnant　women　　all　are　marched　to　their　death。

were　so　fortunate　here；　away　from　the　turmoil。　we　wouldnt　have　to　give　a　moments　thought　to　all　this　suffering　if　it　werent　for　the　fact　that　were　so　worried　about　those　we　hold　dear；　whom　we　can　no　longer　help。　i　feel　wicked　sleeping　in　a　warm　bed；　while　somewhere　out　there　my　dearest　friends　are　dropping　from　exhaustion　or　being　knocked　to　the　ground。

i　get　frightened　myself　when　i　think　of　close　friends　who　are　now　at　the　mercy　of　the　cruelest　monsters　ever　to　stalk　the　earth。

and　all　because　theyre　jews。

yours；　anne　

friday；　november　20；　1942

dearest　kitty；

we　dont　really　know　how　to　react。　up　to　now　very　little　news　about　the　jews　had　reached　us　here；　and　we　thought　it　best　to　stay　as　cheerful　as　possible。　every　now　and　then　miep　used　to　mention　what　had　happened　to　a　friend；　and　mother　or　mrs。

van　daan　would　start　to　cry；　so　she　decided　it　was　better　not　to　say　any　more。　but　we　bombarded　mr。　dussel　with　questions；　and　the　stories　he　had　to　tell　were　so　gruesome　and　dreadful　that　we　cant　get　them　out　of　our　heads。　once　weve　had　time　to　digest　the　news；　well　probably　go　back　to　our　usual　joking　and　teasing。　it　wont　do　us　or　those　outside　any　good　if　we　continue　to　be　as　gloomy　as　we　are　now。　and　what　would　be　the　point　of　turning　the　secret　annex　into　a　melancholy　annex？

no　matter　what　im　doing；　i　cant　help　thinking　about　those　who　are　gone。　i　catch　myself　laughing　and　remember　that　its　a　disgrace　to　be　so　cheerful。　but　am　i　supposed　to　spend　the　whole　day　crying？　no；　i　cant　do　that。　this　gloom　will　pass。

added　to　this　misery　theres　another；　but　of　a　more　personal　nature；　and　it　pales　in　parison　to　the　suffering　ive　just　told　you　about。　still；　i　cant　help　telling　you　that　lately　ive　begun　to　feel　deserted。　im　surrounded　by　too　great　a　void。　i　never　used　to　give　it　much　thought；　since　my　mind　was　filled　with　my　friends　and　having　a　good　time。　now　i　think　either　about　unhappy　things　or　about　myself。　its　taken　a　while；　but　ive　finally　realized　that　father；　no　matter　how　kind　he　may　be；　cant　take　the　place　of　my　former　world。　when　it　es　to　my　feelings；　mother　and　margot　ceased　to　count　long　ago。

but　why　do　i　bother　you　with　this　foolishness？　im　terribly　ungrateful；　kitty；　i　know；　but　when　ive　been　scolded　for　the　umpteenth　time　and　have　all　these　other　woes　to　think　about　as　well；　my　head　begins　to　reel！

yours；　anne　

saturday；　november　2g；　1942

dearest　kitty；

weve　been　using　too　much　electricity　and　have　now　exceeded　our　ration。　the　result：

excessive　economy　and　the　prospect　of　having　the　electricity　cut　off。　no　light　for　fourteen　days；　thats　a　pleasant　thought；　isnt　it？　but　who　knows；　maybe　it　wont　be　so　long！　its　too　dark　to　read　after　four　or　four…thirty；　so　we　while　away　the　time　with　all　kinds　of　crazy　activities：　telling　riddles；　doing　calisthenics　in　the　dark；　speaking　english　or　french；　reviewing　books　　after　a　while　everything　gets　boring。　yesterday　i　discovered　a　new　pastime：　using　a　good　pair　of　binoculars　to　peek　into　the　lighted　rooms　of　the　neighbors。　during　the　day　our　curtains　cant　be　opened；　not　even　an　inch；　but　theres　no　harm　when　its　so　dark。

i　never　knew　that　neighbors　could　be　so　interesting。　ours　are；　at　any　rate。　ive　e　across　a　few　at　dinner；　one　family　making　home　movies　and　the　dentist　across　the　way　working　on　a　frightened　old　lady。

mr。　dussel；　the　man　who　was　said　to　get　along　so　well　with　children　and　to　absolutely　adore　them；　has　turned　out　to　be　an　old…fashioned　disciplinarian　and　preacher　of　unbearably　long　sermons　on　manners。　since　i　have　the　singular　pleasure　（！）　of　sharing　my　far　too　narrow　room　with　his　excellency；　and　since　im　generally　considered　to　be　the　worst　behaved　of　the　three　young　people；　its　all　i　can　do　to　avoid　having　the　same　old　scoldings　and　admonitions　repeatedly　flung　at　my　head　and　to　pretend　not　to　hear。　this　wouldnt　be　so　bad　if　mr。　dussel　werent　such　a　tattletale　and　hadnt　singled　out　mother　to　be　the　recipient　of　his　reports。　if　mr。　dussels　just　read　me　the　riot　act；　mother　lectures　me　all　over　again；　this　time　throwing　the　whole　book　at　me。

and　if　im　really　lucky；　mrs。　van　d。　calls　me　to　account　five　minutes　later　and　lays　down　the　law　as　well！

really；　its　not　easy　being　the　badly　brought…up　center　of　attention　of　a　family　of　nitpickers。

in　bed　at　night；　as　i　ponder　my　many　sins　and　exaggerated　shortings；　i　get　so　confused　by　the　sheer　amount　of　things　i　have　to　consider　that　i　either　laugh　or　cry；　depending　on　my　mood。　then　i　fall　asleep　with　the　strange　feeling　of　wanting　to　be　different　than　i　am　or　being　different　than　i　want　to　be；　or　perhaps　of　behaving　differently　than　i　am　or　want　to　be。

oh　dear；　now　im　confusing　you　too。　forgive　me；　but　i　dont　like　crossing　things　out；　and　in　these　times　of　scarcity；　tossing　away　a　piece　of　paper　is　clearly　taboo。　so　i　can　only　advise　you　not　to　reread　the　above　passage　and　to　make　no　attempt　to　get　to　the　bottom　of　it；　because　youll　never　find　your　way　out　again！

yours；　anne　

w　w　w。x　iaoshu　otx　t。c　o　m



DECEMBER；　1942

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monday；　december　7；　1942

dearest　kitty；

hanukkah　and　st。　nicholas　day　nearly　coincided　this　year；　they　were　only　one　day　apart。　we　didnt　make　much　of　a　fuss　with　hanukkah；　merely　exchanging　a　few　small　gifts　and　lighting　the　candles。　since　candles　are　in　short　supply；　we　lit　them　for　only　ten　minutes；　but　as　long　as　we　sing　the　song；　that　doesnt　matter。　mr。　van　daan　made　a　menorah　out　of　wood；　so　that　was　taken　care　of　too。

st。　nicholas　day　on　saturday　was　much　more　fun。　during　dinner　bep　and　miep　were　so　busy　whispering　to　father　that　our　curiosity　was　aroused　and　we　suspected　they　were　up　to　something。　sure　enough；　at　eight　oclock　we　all　trooped　downstairs　through　the　hall　in　pitch　darkness　（it　gave　me　the　shivers；　and　i　wished　i　was　safely　back　upstairs！）　to　the　alcove。　we　could　switch　on　the　light；　since　this　room　doesnt　have　any　windows。　when　that　was　done；　father　opened　the　big　cabinet。

〃oh；　how　wonderful！〃　we　all　cried。

in　the　corner　was　a　large　basket　decorated　with　colorful　paper　and　a　mask　of　black　peter。

we　quickly　took　the　basket　upstairs　with　us。　inside　was　a　little　gift　for　everyone；　including　an　appropriate　verse。　since　youre　famthar　with　the　kinds　of　poems　peo　ple　write　each　other　on　st。　nicholas　day；　i　wont　copy　them　down　for　you。

i　received　a　kewpie　doll；　father　got　bookends；　and　so　on。　well　anyway；　it　was　a　nice　idea；　and　since　the　eight　of　us　had　never　celebrated　st。　nicholas　day　before；　this　was　a　good　time　to　begin。

yours；　anne　

ps。　we　also　had　presents　for　everyone　downstairs；　a　few　things　。left　over　from　the　good　old　days；　plus　miep　and　bep　are　always　grateful　for　money。

today　we　heard　that　mr。　van　daan　s　ashtray；　mr。　dussels　picture　frame　and　fathers　bookends　were　made　by　none　other　than　mr。　voskuijl。　how　anyone　can　be　so　clever　with　his　hands　is　a　mystery　to　me！

thursday；　december　10；　1942

dearest　kitty；

mr。　van　daan　used　to　be　in　the　meat；　sausage　and　spice　business。　he　was　hired　for　his　knowledge　of　spices；　and　yet；　to　our　great　delight；　its　his　sausage　talents　that　have　e　in　handy　now。

we　ordered　a　large　amount　of　meat　（under　the　counter；　of　course）　that　we　were　planning　to　preserve　in　case　there　were　hard　times　ahead。　mr。　van　daan　decided　to　make　bratwurst；　sausages　and　mettwurst。　i　had　fun　watching　him　put　the　meat　through　the　grinder：　once；　twice；　three　times。　then　he　added　the　remaining　ingredi　ents　to　the　ground　meat　and　used　a　long　pipe　to　force　the　mixture　into　the　casings。

we　ate　the　bratwurst　with　sauerkraut　for　lunch；　but　the　sausages；　which　were　going　to　be　canned；　had　to　dry　first；　so　we　hung　them　over　a　pole　suspended　from　the　cethng。　everyone　who　came　into　the　room　burst　into　laughter　when　they　saw　the　dangling　sausages。it　was　such　a　ical　sight。

the　kitchen　was　a　shambles。　mr。　van　daan；　clad　in　his　wifes　apron　and　looking　fatter　than　ever；　was　working　away　at　the　meat。　what　with　his　bloody　hands；　red　face　and　spotted　apron；　he　looked　like　a　real　butcher。　mrs。　d。　was　trying　to　do　everything　at　once：　learning　dutch　out　of　a　book；　stirring　the　soup；　watching　the　meat；　sighing　and　moaning　about　her　broken　rib。　thats　what　happens　when　old　（！）　ladies　do　such　stupid　exercises　to　get　rid　of　their　fat　behinds！　dussel　had　an　eye　infection　and　was　sitting　next　to　the　stove　dabbing　his　eye　with　camomile　tea。　pim；　seated　in　the　one　ray　of　sunshine　ing　through　the　window；　kept　having　to　move　his　chair　this　way　and　that　to　stay　out　of　the　way。　his　rheumatism　must　have　been　bothering　him　because　he　was　slightly　hunched　over　and　was　keeping　an　eye　on　mr。　van　daan　with　an　agonized　expression　on　his　face。　he　reminded　me　of　those　aged　invalids　you　see　in　the　poor…house。　peter　was　romping　around　the　room　with　mouschi；　the　cat；　while　mother；　margot　and　i　were　peeling　boiled　potatoes。　when　you　get　right　down　to　it；　none　of　us　were　doing　our　work　properly；　because　we　were　all　so　busy　watching　mr。　van　daan。

dussel　has　opened　his　dental　practice。　just　for　fun；　ill　describe　the　session　with　his　very　fi