安妮日记英文版_安妮·弗兰克-第23部分

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aan；　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；　anne；　i　am　taking　peeler　in　my　hand　like　so　and　going　from　the　top　to　bottom！

nein；　not　so　。　。　。　but　so！鈥�

〃i　think　my　way　is　easier；　mr。　dussel；〃　i　say　tentatively。

〃but　this　is　best　way；　anne。　this　you　can　take　from　me。　of　course；　it　is　no　matter；　you　do　the　way　you　want。鈥�

we　go　on　peeling。　i　glance　at　dussel　out　of　the　corner　of　my　eye。　lost　in　thought；　he　shakes　his　head　（over　me；　no　doubt）；　but　says　no　more。

i　keep　on　peeling。　then　i　look　at　father；　on　the　other　side　of　me。　to　father；　peeling　potatoes　is　not　a　chore；　but　precision　work。　when　he　reads；　he　has　a　deep　wrinkle　in　the　back　of　his　head。　but　when　hes　preparing　potatoes；　beans　or　vegetables；　he　seems　to　be　totally　absorbed　in　his　task。　he　puts　on　his　potato…peeling　face；　and　when　its　set　in　that　particular　way；　it　would　be　impossible　for　him　to　turn　out　anything　less　than　a　perfectly　peeled　potato。

i　keep　on　working。　i　glance　up　for　a　second；　but　thats　all　the　time　i　need。　mrs。　van　d。　is　trying　to　attract　dussels　attention。　she　starts　by　looking　in　his　direction；　but　dussel　pretends　not　to　notice。　she　winks；　but　dussel　goes　on　peeling。　she　laughs；　but　dussel　still　doesnt　look　up。　then　mother　laughs　too；　but　dussel　pays　them　no　mind。

having　failed　to　achieve　her　goal；　mrs。　van　d。　is　obliged　to　change　tactics。　theres　a　brief　silence。　then　she　says；　〃putti；　why　dont　you　put　on　an　apron？　otherwise；　ill　have　to　spend　all　day　tomorrow　trying　to　get　the　spots　out　of　your　suit！鈥�

〃im　not　getting　it　dirty。鈥�

another　brief　silence。　〃putti；　why　dont　you　sit　down？　〃im　fine　this　way。　i　like　standing　up！鈥�

silence。

〃putti；　look　out；　du　spritzt　schon！〃。*　＇*now　youre　splashing！＇　〃i　know；　mommy；　but　im　being　careful。鈥�

mrs。　van　d。　casts　about　for　another　topic。　〃tell　me；　putti；　why　arent　the　british

carrying　out　any　bombing　raids　today？鈥�

〃because　the　weathers　bad；　kerli！鈥�

〃but　yesterday　it　was　such　nice　weather　and　they　werent　flying　then　either。鈥�

〃lets　drop　the　subject。鈥�

〃why？　cant　a　person　talk　about　that　or　offer　an　opinion？　〃well；　why　in　the　world　not？鈥�

〃oh；　be　quiet；　mammichen！〃*　＇*mommy＇　〃mr。　frank　always　answers　his　wife。鈥�

mr。　van　d。　is　trying　to　control　himself。　this　remark　always　rubs　him　the　wrong　way；　but　mrs。　van　d。s　not　one　to　quit：　〃oh；　theres　never　going　to　be　an　invasion！鈥�

mr。　van　d。　turns　white；　and　when　she　notices　it；　mrs。　van　d。　turns　red；　but　shes　not　about　to　be　deterred：　〃the　british　arent　doing　a　thing！鈥�

the　bomb　bursts。　〃and　now　shut　up；　donnerwetter　noch　mal！*　＇*for　crying　out　loud！〃＇　mother　can　barely　stifle　a　laugh；　and　i　stare　straight　ahead。

scenes　like　these　are　repeated　almost　daily；　unless　theyve　just　had　a　terrible　fight。　in　that　case；　neither　mr。　nor　mrs。　van　d。　says　a　word。

its　time　for　me　to　get　some　more　potatoes。　i　go　up　to　the　attic；　where　peter　is　busy　picking　fleas　from　the　cat。

he　looks　up；　the　cat　notices　it；　and　whoosh。　。　。　hes　gone。　out　the　window　and　into　the　rain　gutter。

peter　swears；　i　laugh　and　slip　out　of　the　room。

freedom　in　the　annex　five…thirty。　beps　arrival　signals　the　beginning　of　our　nightly　freedom。　things　get

going　right　away。　i　go　upstairs　with　bep；　who　usually　has　her　dessert　before　the　rest　of　us。　the　moment　she　sits　down；　mrs。　van　d。　begins　stating　her　wishes。　her　list　usually　starts　with　〃oh；　by　the　way；　bep；　something　else　id　like。　。　。〃　bep　winks　at　me。　mrs。　van　d。　doesnt　miss　a　chance　to　make　her　wishes　known　to　whoever　es　upstairs。　it　must　be　one　of　the　reasons　none　of　them　like　to　go　up　there。

five　forty…five。　bep　leaves。　i　go　down　two　floors　to　have　a　look　around：　first　to　the　kitchen；　then　to　the　private　office　and　then　to　the　coal　bin　to　open　the　cat　door　for　mouschi。

after　a　long　tour　of　inspection；　i　wind　up　in　mr。　kuglers　office。　mr。　van　daan　is　bing　all　the　drawers　and　files　for　todays　mail。　peter　picks　up　boche　and　the　warehouse　key；　pim　lugs　the　typewriters　upstairs；　margot　looks　around　for　a　quiet　place　to　do　her　office　work；　mrs。　van　d。　puts　a　kettle　of　water　on　the　stove；　mother　es　down　the　stairs　with　a　pan　of　potatoes；　we　all　know　our　jobs。

soon　peter　es　back　from　the　warehouse。　the　first　question　they　ask　him　is　whether　hes　remembered　the　bread。　no；　he　hasnt。　he　crouches　before　the　door　to　the　front　office　to　make　himself　as　small　as　possible　and　crawls　on　his　hands　and　knees　to　the　steel　cabinet；　takes　out　the　bread　and　starts　to　leave。　at　any　rate；　thats　what　he　intends　to　do；　but　before　he　knows　whats　happened；　mouschi　has　jumped　over　him　and　gone　to　sit　under　the　desk。

peter　looks　all　around　him。　aha；　theres　the　cat！　he　crawls　back　into　the　office　and　grabs　the　cat　by　the　tail。　mouschi　hisses；　peter　sighs。　what　has　he　acplished？

mouschis　now　sitting　by　the　window　licking　herself；　very　pleased　at　having　escaped　peters　clutches。　peter　has　no　choice　but　to　lure　her　with　a　piece　of　bread。　mouschi　takes　the　bait；　follows　him　out；　and　the　door　closes。

i　watch　the　entire　scene　through　a　crack　in　the　door。

mr。　van　daan　is　angry　and　slams　the　door。　margot　and　i　exchange　looks　and