Chapter 3 Chapter 3 Ermengarde

It was on that first morning that Sarah sat next to Ms. Minchin and felt that the whole room was watching her intently.She soon noticed a little girl about her own age, staring at her with a pair of dark, light blue eyes.It was a fat boy, and he didn't look bright at all, but his sucking mouth seemed to be good-natured.Her flaxen hair was tightly braided and tied with a ribbon. She tied the braid around her neck, bit the end of the ribbon in her mouth, rested her elbows on the desk, and stared in wonder at the new student.When Mr. Dufarge began to address Sarah, she seemed a little frightened, and the little fat girl was taken aback when Sarah stepped forward, looked at him with innocent pleading eyes, and answered him automatically in French. Jumping, gradually turning red in awe and amazement.The girl, who spoke fluent English, had been weeping desperate tears for weeks, trying to remember that "le mere" meant mother and "le pere" meant father.The sudden discovery that she was listening to a child of her own age speaking French was almost unbearable to her.Not only were those words very familiar to the child, but apparently an infinite number of others were known, and he could connect them with verbs, as if without any difficulty.

She stared like this, biting the ribbon in her braid, and caught Miss Minchin's attention.Miss Minchin, who was feeling extremely irritated at the moment, threw herself upon her. "Miss St. John!" she cried sternly, "what is your conduct? Get your elbows off! Don't bite the ribbon! Sit up straight!" Miss St. John was taken aback by this drinking, and seeing Lavinia and Jessie sniggering, she blushed even more--too much, indeed, as if tears were welling up on her poor face. In the dark childish eyes.Sarah saw it, felt sorry for her, and felt that she was beginning to like her a little, and wanted to make friends with her.When someone was upset or unlucky, Sara always had a bit of a grudge.

"If Sara had been a boy and lived centuries ago," her father used to say, "she would have drawn her sword and traveled everywhere to rescue and protect everyone who died. Seeing people in distress, She's always going to fight." Then she fell a little in love with this plump, slow little girl, Miss St. John, and couldn't stop looking at her all morning.Sarah knew that the lessons were not easy for her, and that she was in no danger of being spoiled as a show-off student.Her French lessons were a headache.Her pronunciation even made Mr. Dufarge laugh involuntarily, and Lavinia and Jessie, and the more fortunate children, either sneered at her or looked at her with wonder and contempt.But Sarah didn't laugh.When Miss St. John pronounced the word "fresh bread" not "le bon pain" but "lee bong pang," she tried not to hear.She had her own innocent, fiery little temper, and felt resentful when she heard the sniggering and saw the face of the poor, stupid, tortured child.

"There's nothing funny about it," she murmured between her teeth while leaning over her desk, "they shouldn't laugh." After class, the students gathered in small groups to talk. Sarah looked for Miss St. John, found her sitting sadly on the window sill, curled up in a ball, and went to talk to her.She said only the things that little girls used to say to each other when they first came to know each other, but there was always a kindness and friendliness about her that was always felt. "What's your name?" Sarah said.In order to explain Miss St. John's astonishment, you must understand that a new student is in the short term an unsettling factor; the whole school has been talking about Sarah as a new student since the previous evening.Talk about exciting and contradictory rumors until you fall asleep exhausted.It was not an ordinary thing to meet a new student who had a carriage, a pony, and a maid, and had sailed all the way from India.

"My name is Ermengarde St. John," she answered. "My name is Sarah Crewe," Sarah said. "Your name is beautiful. It sounds like the name of a storybook." "Did you like it?" said Ermengarde in a trembling voice. "I—I like your name, too." Miss St. John's chief trouble in life was having a clever father.Sometimes it seemed like a terrible disaster to her.If you have an all-knowing father who speaks seven or eight foreign languages ​​and memorizes the contents of thousands of books, he will ask you to at least familiarize yourself with the contents of the textbooks, and may think that you should memorize some historical events. Practice French.Ermengarde was a very troublesome problem for Mr. St. John.He couldn't figure out how his kid could be an unmistakable jerk, not good at anything.

"My God!" he said, staring at her more than once, "sometimes I think she's as stupid as her Aunt Eliza!" Ermengarde was very much like her.It cannot be denied that she was a notorious imbecile in school. "She must be forced to study," her father had said to Ms. Minchin.As a result, Ermengarde spent much of his life in humiliation and tears.She learns and forgets; in other words, even if she remembers it, she doesn't know what it means.So naturally, after making the acquaintance with Sara, he would sit there and gaze at her with deep admiration. "You can speak French, don't you?" she said respectfully.

Sarah sat down on the wide sill too, with her feet curled up and her hands wrapped around her knees. "I can tell because I was born with French," Sarah replied. "If you used to listen to French, you can speak it too." "Oh, no, that's impossible," said Ermengarde, "I'll never speak French!" "Why?" Sarah asked in surprise. Ermengarde shook his head, his braids bouncing. You heard me say it just now," she said, "I've always been like that.Can't pronounce those words.They are so weird. " She paused, then added, with a touch of awe in her voice: "You're smart, aren't you?"

Sarah looked out the window at the dimly lit yard, where sparrows hopped and twittered on the damp iron railings and blackened branches.She pondered for a while.She often heard people say that she was "smart," and she wondered if she was—and if so, what the hell. "I don't know," she said, "I can't tell." Seeing the sad expression on Ermengarde's round, round face, she smiled, and changed the subject. "Would you like to see Emily?" she inquired. "Who's Emily?" asked Ermengarde, as Miss Minchin had done. "Come and see in my room," said Sarah, holding out her hand.

They jumped off the sill together and went upstairs. "It's true," Ermengarde whispered across the hall - "do you really have a game room all your own?" "Yes," replied Sara, "Papa asked Miss Minchin to let me have one because—oh, that's because when I was playing I used to make up stories to myself and I didn't like it being heard. If I knew If others are listening, then you can’t speak.” Now that they were walking up the passage leading to Sara's room, Ermengarde stopped suddenly, stared wide-eyed, and held his breath. "You make up stories!" she gasped. "Can you make up stories—can you speak French as well? Can you?"

Sara looked at her almost astonished. "Yeah, anyone can make it up," Sarah said. "Have you never tried?" Alertly she put her hand on Ermengarde's. "Let's go quietly to the door," she whispered, "and I flung open the door; perhaps we can catch her." She smiled, but there was a mysterious gleam of hope in her eyes, which fascinated Ermengarde, though she had no idea what it meant, whom Sarah was "catching" and why.Whatever Sara meant, Ermengarde was sure it must be something exciting and excited, and tiptoeing cautiously along the aisle with Sara full of expectations.They came quietly to the door.Then Sarah turned the doorknob suddenly and slammed the door open.The door was thrown open, revealing a neat and quiet interior, with a fire burning slowly in the fireplace, and in a nearby chair sat a splendid doll, apparently reading a book.

"Ah! She's back in her seat before we see her!" exclaimed Sara. "Of course, they always do. Move like lightning." Ermengarde looked from Sara to the doll, then to Sara. "Can she--walk?" she asked breathlessly. "Yes," Sarah replied, "at least I believe she can, at least I pretend to believe she can. That makes it seem real. You never pretend to believe something?" "No," said Ermengarde, "never, I—tell me how it is." Confused by this strange new companion, she was actually staring at Sarah instead of Emily - even though Emily was the cutest doll she had ever seen. "Let's sit down," said Sarah, "and I'll tell you. It's easy, once you start, you can't stop. You just pretend and pretend and keep pretending. This kind of It's a wonderful thing. Listen, Emily. This is Ermengarde St. John, Emily. Ermengarde, this is Emily. Would you like to hug her? " "Oh, can I?" said Ermengarde, "can I really? How beautiful she is!" And Emily was placed in her arms. The hour of this encounter with this strange new student, the hour before they heard the lunch bell and were obliged to go downstairs, was undreamed of in the short and dismal life of Miss St. John. Sarah sat on the fireside rug and told her strange things.She was curled up, her green eyes sparkling, her cheeks flushed.She told stories of that voyage and of her time in India, but what fascinated Ermengarde most were her childhood fantasies about dolls: when people leave the room, they walk, talk, and do what they want. Do anything, but they have to keep this ability a secret, so when people go back to the room, they return to their old positions like lightning. "We can't do that," Sarah said solemnly. "You see, it's a kind of magic." Once, when she told how she had found Emily, Ermengarde saw a sudden change in her face.It seemed that a dark cloud passed over her face, extinguishing the light in her bright eyes.She took a sharp breath, made a strange sad sound, and then closed her lips tightly, keeping them tight, as if she was making up her mind to do or not to do something.It occurred to Ermengarde that if Sarah had been like any other little girl, she might have burst into whimpers and sobs, but Sarah did not. "Do you have something—any pain?" Ermengarde asked presumptuously. "Yes," Sarah replied after a moment of silence. "But, that's not in me." Then she whispered something, trying to keep her voice calm, and she said, "Do you love your father more than anything in the world?" ?" Ermengarde's mouth parted involuntarily.She knew that in this senior girls' institution, if you said that it never occurred to you to love your father, and that you would do anything desperate to avoid spending ten minutes with him, you would be far from being a person. Well-educated kids too.Indeed, she was embarrassed. "I—I hardly ever see him," she stammered. "He's always in the study—reading something." "I love my dad ten times more than the whole world," Sarah said. "That's where my pain lies. He's gone." She silently sat with her head on her curled up knees for a few minutes. "She was about to burst into tears," thought Ermengarde worriedly.But Sarah didn't cry.Locks of black curls fell about her ears, and she sat still, speaking for a moment, without looking up. "I promised him to be patient," she said. "I will. People have to put up with some things. Think of what soldiers put up with! Dad was a soldier. If there was a war, he'd have to march long distances, suffer hunger and thirst, and probably be seriously wounded. And he'd never would say anything—not a word." Ermengarde could only look at her, but felt himself beginning to adore her.She is so amazing, so different. Presently Sarah lifted her face, tossed her black curls back, and smiled wryly. "If I go on and on and on," she said, "telling you about pretending, I can bear it better. I can't forget it, but I can bear it better." Ermengarde seemed to have something stuck in her throat somehow, and she felt tears in her eyes. "Lavinia and Jessie are best friends," she said, her voice husky. "I wish we could be best friends too. Do you want me to be your best friend? You're smart and I'm the dumbest kid in school, but I—oh, how I like you!" " "It makes me happy," Sarah said. "You appreciate it when you're liked. Yeah. We're going to be good friends. And I'm going to tell you," -- suddenly her cheeks light up -- "I can help you with your French ."