《灰姑娘》第7章

The day of the ball arrived quickly. As the afternoon sun began to sink, Ella found herself running back and forth¹ between her stepsisters' and stepmother's rooms, helping² the ladies prepare for the evening.

 

Standing³ in their bright and shiny new gowns, Anastasia and Drisella pretended to admire each other. The sisters had gotten dresses that matched in every way besides color. Anastasia's was a bright pink, Drisella's a loud yellow. Both had elaborate corsets that Ella had been forced to tie as tightly as possible.

 

"A vision, Sister," Anastasia said, her breathing labored⁴. "Truly."

 

Drisella nodded. "Likewise."

 

"We must compete for the prince's hand," Anastasia went on, picking up a fan that matched her dress. "Let it not mean we harbor dark thoughts against each other."

 

"Of course, dear sister," Drisella replied. "I would not dream of poisoning you before we leave for the ball."

 

"Or I of pushing you from the moving carriage on the way there," Anastasia countered.

 

As they continued slinging⁵ thinly veiled barbs⁶ at each other, Ella moved about the room, picking up discarded accessories and putting them away. She was eager to be done so that she, too, could get ready. Yet all the talk of the prince had made Ella curious.

 

"What will he be like, I wonder?" Ella asked.

 

"Like?" Anastasia laughed. "What does it matter what he's like? He's rich beyond reason!"

 

"Would you not like to know a bit about him before you marry him?" Ella asked, thinking of Kit⁷ and the way his dark brown hair had waved gently about his face. The way he had smiled and the way he had stuttered when she flustered⁸ him. She wanted to know more. She wanted to know everything about him.

 

Her sisters, it seemed, were not of the same opinion. "Certainly not!" Drisella cried. "It might change my mind."

 

"I bet you've never even spoken to a man," Anastasia sneered⁹.

 

"I have," Ella said, Kit's face flashing in front of her again. "Once. To a gentleman."

 

"Some menial, no doubt," Anastasia countered. "Some prentice."

 

Ella was unashamed. "He was an apprentice¹⁰, yes."

 

"All men are fools," Drisella said, parroting something her mother had said once. "The sooner you learn that, the better."

 

Ella did not bother to reply. Instead, she simply went back to cleaning. Not for the first time, Ella felt pity for her stepsisters. No matter how shiny or bright their dresses, it would be difficult for them to ever know happiness with such ugly outlooks on life.

 

(A remarkable¹¹ child, truly wise beyond her years. But I suppose I'm interrupting again. Go on, gentle reader, go on.)

 

A short while later, Lady Tremaine made her appearance at the top of the stairs. Unlike her daughters, whose bright dresses seemed garish¹² and tacky, Lady Tremaine was the picture of refined elegance¹³. Her emerald-green gown complemented¹⁴ her red hair, which was stylishly¹⁵ coiffed.

 

She gracefully¹⁶ descended¹⁷ the staircase and came to a stop in front of her daughters. Looking them up and down, she appraised¹⁸ them with a critical eye. "My dear girls," she said, "to see you like this… it makes me believe that one of you may just snare¹⁹ the prince. And to think I have two horses in the race…" She kissed each of them on the cheek, then added, "I dare say no one in the kingdom will outshine my daughters."

 

Then, from the landing at the top of the stairs, there came a rustle²⁰. As Lady Tremaine turned, her eyes grew narrow and her face flushed. Standing there, in a gown that was old-fashioned but infinitely²¹ more elegant than her daughters' new gowns, was Ella. Her face glowed with excitement, her eyes sparkling and her hair falling about her shoulders in perfect waves. She was, in a word, stunning²².

 

Smiling nervously²³, Ella walked down the stairs. "It cost you nothing," she explained. "It's my mother's old dress, you see. And I took it up myself." She lifted the skirt of the dress to prove her point. She had spent every evening after her chores were done laboring²⁴ over the dress. It had been painstaking²⁵ work, but when she had finally seen herself in the small looking glass in her room, she had known it was worth it. She had only wished at that moment that her mother could have been there.

 

Lady Tremaine took a deep breath and collected herself. The girl was far too beautiful. She needed to make sure Ella did not attend the ball under any circumstances, or Ella would undoubtedly²⁶ outshine her daughters. After living with Ella for some time, she was not so foolish as to think anger would get through to the girl. No, she needed to manipulate Ella. Bringing a hand to her heart, Lady Tremaine said, "After all I've done—feeding you, clothing you, resisting every impulse to turn you out of doors, you try to… to embarrass me in front of the court?"

 

Ella was taken aback. "I… I… I don't want to embarrass you," she stammered²⁷. "I'm not going in order to meet the prince—"

 

Lady Tremaine cut her off. "There's no question of you going… at all."

 

"But all of the maidens²⁸ in the land are invited," Ella protested feebly. "By order of the king."

 

"It is the king I am thinking of," Lady Tremaine shot back. "It would be an insult to the royal personage to take you to the palace in those old rags."

 

"Rags," Ella repeated, the word sticking in her throat. She looked down at her mother's dress. It was one of the few reminders²⁹ left of the woman who had filled this house with so much love. Bitter tears welled up in Ella's eyes and she rubbed them away. She didn't want them to see her cry. She needed to stay strong, in honor of the promises she'd made and the dress she wore.

 

Lady Tremaine seemed unbothered by the emotions racing³⁰ across Ella's face. "This… thing…" she sneered, "is so out of style that it's practically falling to pieces. Look, the shoulder is frayed³¹." Reaching out, Lady Tremaine pulled on the sleeve, hard. There was a loud rip and Ella gasped³². But her stepmother wasn't done. She grabbed the shawl Ella had wrapped around her shoulders. Then she ripped that, too. Taking the cue from their mother, Anastasia and Drisella began to pull and tug³³ at Ella as well. When they were done, the dress was destroyed.

 

Ella wrapped her arms around herself, shame and anger coursing through her body. "How could you?" she asked, her voice trembling.

 

"How could I otherwise?" Lady Tremaine retorted. "I will not have anyone associate my daughters with you. It would ruin their prospects³⁴ to be seen arriving next to a ragged³⁵ servant girl." She paused, leaning in close to Ella. "Mark my words. You shall not go to the ball."

 

Later, as her stepfamily's carriage faded from view, tears filled Ella's eyes and she sank to the ground. She would never see Kit again. And she knew that after that day, her stepmother's hold on her would only tighten³⁶. Ella shuddered³⁷. Her fate seemed locked. And for once, she couldn't find the courage to smile through her pain.

 

Hearing footsteps behind her, Ella quickly wiped away her tears and turned. An old beggar woman stood there, leaning heavily on a gnarled wooden cane³⁸. The woman's clothes were rags and she looked ravenous³⁹. Ella felt a pang⁴⁰ of guilt⁴¹. This woman knew true hardship.

 

(The beggar woman! Did I not tell you she would be important? Keep going, my little reader. It's about to get very interesting.)

 

"Can you help me, miss?" the beggar woman asked, her voice weak. "Just a little crust of bread. Or better, a cup of milk?"

 

"Yes, I think I can find something for you," Ella said, pushing herself to her feet. But the action made her mother's dress, already in shreds⁴², rip further, and the tears she had been fighting to stop started again. Focusing on the task at hand, she rushed into the house and poured a large serving of milk into a bowl. Then she carried it out to the beggar woman.

 

"You've been crying, my dear," the old woman said when Ella returned.

 

"It's nothing," Ella replied, trying to sound stronger than she felt.

 

The old woman shook her head. "Nothing? What is a bowl of milk? Nothing. And everything. Kindness is so rare these days," she said, taking the bowl. She sipped⁴³ the milk and smiled in satisfaction. "Thank you. Now, I don't mean to hurry you, but we haven't got long, Ella." The beggar woman began to walk around to the back of the house.

 

Behind her, Ella cocked her head. How had the beggar woman known her name? She ran to catch up, following the woman into a large garden. "Who are you?" she asked breathlessly.

 

"Who am I?" the beggar woman repeated. "Well, I should think you'd have worked that out." When Ella said nothing, the woman shrugged⁴⁴ good-naturedly. "I'm your fairy godmother, of course." (Surprise!)

 

舞会那天很快到来了。下午太阳开始落山的时候，瑞拉在姐姐们和继母的房间来回穿梭，帮助她们为舞会做准备。

 

安泰西亚和崔西里亚穿着鲜艳漂亮的新礼服，惺惺作态地互相赞美着。姐妹两人的衣服除了颜色以外都很相配。安泰西亚的礼服是亮粉色，崔西里亚的是刺眼的黄色。两人都穿上了紧身胸衣，让瑞拉系得不能再紧了。

 

“真漂亮，妹妹。”安泰西亚说，她连呼吸都非常费劲。“真的。”

 

崔西里亚点点头：“你也一样。”

 

“要赢得王子的爱，我们得一决高低。”安泰西亚一边接着说，一边拿起一把和自己衣服相配的扇子。“但这不意味着我们会心怀敌意。”

 

“当然了，亲爱的姐姐，”崔西里亚回答，“我绝对不会想着出门去舞会前就把你毒死。”

 

“我也不会想着在半路上把你推下马车。”安泰西亚回敬道。

 

就在她们毫不掩饰地互相攻击的时候，瑞拉在房间里来回忙碌着，捡起随手乱丢的饰品把它们收好。她想快点做完，这样她也可以做好准备。然而大家对王子的讨论让瑞拉充满了好奇。

 

“王子长什么样子呢？”瑞拉问道。

 

“样子？”安泰西亚笑道，“他的长相有什么关系？关键是他特别有钱。”

 

“你嫁给他之前都不想了解他一点儿吗？”瑞拉问道，她想着基特，想着他深褐色的头发轻拂着脸庞，想着他的微笑，想着他在自己面前紧张时结结巴巴的样子。她想多了解基特一些，她想了解他的一切。

 

她的姐姐们看起来可不这么想。“当然不想！”崔西里亚叫道，“那有可能会让我改变主意。”

 

“我打赌你从来没跟男人说过话，”安泰西亚挖苦说。

 

“有过，”瑞拉说，基特的脸又浮现在她的面前。“有过一次。跟一位绅士。”

 

“那肯定是个仆人，”安泰西亚讽刺道，“一个学徒。”

 

瑞拉一点儿都没觉得难堪：“他是个学徒，没错。”

 

“男人都是傻瓜，”崔西里亚模仿着母亲曾经的口气说，“你越早明白这一点越好。”

 

瑞拉没再理会她们，她只是回去继续洗涮。这已经不是第一次瑞拉感到姐姐们很可怜了。不管她们穿戴得多么光鲜亮丽，她们粗鄙的想法根本不可能了解什么是幸福。

 

(真是一个了不起的孩子，瑞拉有着超越她年龄的智慧。但我想我又打断故事了。请继续看，亲爱的读者，请继续。)

 

不一会儿，特曼妮夫人出现在了楼梯顶端。和穿得花里胡哨、俗气十足的女儿们不同，特曼妮夫人显得高贵优雅。她翠绿色的礼服和红色的头发非常相配，她头上戴着时髦的帽子。

 

她仪态万方地走下楼梯，在女儿们面前停住了。她用评判的眼光上下打量着她们。“亲爱的女儿们，”她说，“看到你们这样的打扮……我相信你们其中一位肯定能俘获王子的心。想到这场比赛中我有两匹赛马……” 她亲了亲女儿们的脸颊说：“我敢说这个王国里谁也不会比我的女儿们更光彩照人。”

 

这时，楼梯顶端的转台上传来一阵窸窸窣窣的衣裙声。特曼妮夫人转过身，眯起眼睛，她的脸变得通红。上面站着的是瑞拉，她穿着一件礼服，虽然款式陈旧，但比她女儿们的新礼服优雅得多。瑞拉兴奋得满面红光，眼睛闪闪发亮，波浪形的长发垂落在肩头。总之，她美得惊人。

 

瑞拉紧张地笑着走下了楼梯。“没花你们一分钱，”她解释道，“你看，这是我母亲的旧衣服。我自己改了改。”她提起裙子证明自己说的不是假话。为了这件衣服，她每天晚上做完家里的杂活后都会缝缝补补。她确实费了不少功夫，但当她在房间里的小镜子里看到自己穿着它的样子，她觉得自己的心血没有白费。她只希望母亲此刻能在这里。

 

特曼妮夫人深吸了一口气，恢复了平静。这个女孩太漂亮了，她必须确保瑞拉无论如何都参加不了舞会，要不然她一定会抢了她女儿们的风头。和瑞拉一起生活了这么久，她知道发火是不会奏效的。不，她要巧妙地操纵她。特曼妮夫人一只手放到胸前说：“我为你做了这么多——给你饭吃，给你衣服穿，忍耐着没把你赶出家门，你就……就这么让我到王宫里出洋相吗？”

 

瑞拉吃了一惊。“我……我……我没想让你出洋相，”她支支吾吾地说，“我不是要去见王子——”

 

特曼妮夫人打断了她。“你根本就不能去。”

 

“可是王国所有的少女都被邀请了，”瑞拉无力地抗议道，“这是国王的命令。”

 

“我就是想到国王才这么说的，”特曼妮夫人回道，“你穿得这样破破烂烂到王宫里去只会让王室蒙羞。”

 

“破破烂烂，”瑞拉重复着，这个词让她说不出话来。她低头看着母亲的衣服。母亲活着的时候让整个家充满了爱。她留下的东西不多，这衣服就是其中一件。瑞拉眼里满是痛苦的泪水，但她很快就把眼泪擦干了。她不想让她们看到自己流泪。她要坚强，为了自己许下的诺言，也为了身上的这件衣服。

 

特曼妮夫人可没有被瑞拉难过的表情打动。“这个……东西……”她冷笑道，“太过时了，都快成碎片了。看，肩膀都磨破了。”她伸手抓住瑞拉的袖子，用力撕扯着。只听刺啦一声，瑞拉倒吸了一口气。但是继母还没有住手。她抓住瑞拉肩上披着的披肩，把它也撕碎了。安泰西亚和崔西里亚明白了母亲的提示，也冲上来开始又撕又扯。等他们停下的时候，瑞拉的衣服早已被撕得粉碎。

 

瑞拉用胳膊护住自己的身体，心里又羞又恼。“你们怎么能这么做？”她用颤抖的声音问。

 

“我还能怎么做？”特曼妮夫人不依不饶地说。“我不允许任何人把你和我的女儿们扯在一起。和一个穿得破破烂烂的女仆一起参加舞会只会毁掉她们的前程。”她停下来，凑到瑞拉面前。“记住我的话：你不能去参加舞会。”

 

过一会儿，继母她们坐马车离开了，而瑞拉眼里则充满了泪水，伤心地一下坐到了地上。她永远也见不到基特了。她知道，从今往后继母对她会控制得越来越紧。瑞拉忍不住打了个寒战。她的命运之门仿佛被锁上了。这一次，瑞拉再也没有了微笑面对痛苦的勇气。

 

瑞拉听到身后有脚步声，赶紧擦干眼泪转过头。一个乞丐婆婆站在那儿，她弯腰拄着一根粗糙的拐杖。老婆婆的衣服破烂不堪，看起来饥肠辘辘。瑞拉感到一阵愧疚，这位老婆婆的生活才是真正的苦难。

 

(乞丐婆婆！我是不是说过她是个重要的人物？亲爱的读者，请继续看。故事马上会变得非常有趣。)

 

“小姐，能帮帮我吗？”乞丐婆婆用微弱的声音问。“给我一点面包皮，或者一杯牛奶就更好了。”

 

“好的，我应该能给你找点吃的。”瑞拉说着站了起来。但是母亲的衣服本来就被撕成了布条，这一起身又扯碎了一些，刚才强忍着的泪水又夺眶而出。但是想到要做的事情，她冲进门去倒了一大碗牛奶，然后端出来给了乞丐婆婆。

 

“你哭了，亲爱的。”瑞拉回来时老婆婆问。

 

“没什么，”瑞拉回答道，极力使自己听起来很坚强。

 

老婆婆摇摇头。“没什么？区区一碗牛奶算什么？也没什么，但又是一切。现在善良的人可不多。”说着她接过了碗，喝了一小口牛奶，满意地笑了。“谢谢你。好了，我不想催你，不过我们剩下的时间不多了，瑞拉。”乞丐婆婆开始朝屋后走去。

 

瑞拉在她后面扬起头想：这个乞丐婆婆怎么会知道她的名字？她赶紧跑上前去，跟老婆婆走进了一个大花园。“你是谁？”她气喘吁吁地问。

 

“我是谁？”乞丐婆婆重复道，“哎，我还以为你早猜到了。”瑞拉不知道说什么，老婆婆和蔼地耸耸肩，“我当然是你的仙女教母了。”(真是个惊喜！)

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