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Secret Garden, The Secret Garden (18)

The Secret Garden (18)

Rooms are locked up and gardens are locked up—and you! Have you been locked up?”

“No. I stay in this room because I don't want to be moved out of it. It tires me too much.”

“Does your father come and see you?” Mary ventured.

“Sometimes. Generally when I am asleep. He doesn't want to see me.”

“Why?” Mary could not help asking again.

A sort of angry shadow passed over the boy's face.

“My mother died when I was born and it makes him wretched to look at me. He thinks I don't know, but I've heard people talking. He almost hates me.”

“He hates the garden, because she died,” said Mary half speaking to herself.

“What garden?” the boy asked.

“Oh! just—just a garden she used to like,” Mary stammered. “Have you been here always?”

“Nearly always. Sometimes I have been taken to places at the seaside, but I won't stay because people stare at me. I used to wear an iron thing to keep my back straight, but a grand doctor came from London to see me and said it was stupid. He told them to take it off and keep me out in the fresh air. I hate fresh air and I don't want to go out.”

“I didn't when first I came here,” said Mary. “Why do you keep looking at me like that?”

“Because of the dreams that are so real,” he answered rather fretfully. “Sometimes when I open my eyes I don't believe I'm awake.”

“We're both awake,” said Mary. She glanced round the room with its high ceiling and shadowy corners and dim fire-light. “It looks quite like a dream, and it's the middle of the night, and everybody in the house is asleep—everybody but us. We are wide awake.”

“I don't want it to be a dream,” the boy said restlessly.

Mary thought of something all at once.

“If you don't like people to see you,” she began, “do you want me to go away?”

He still held the fold of her wrapper and he gave it a little pull.

“No,” he said. “I should be sure you were a dream if you went. If you are real, sit down on that big footstool and talk. I want to hear about you.”

Mary put down her candle on the table near the bed and sat down on the cushioned stool. She did not want to go away at all. She wanted to stay in the mysterious hidden-away room and talk to the mysterious boy.

“What do you want me to tell you?” she said.

He wanted to know how long she had been at Misselthwaite; he wanted to know which corridor her room was on; he wanted to know what she had been doing; if she disliked the moor as he disliked it; where she had lived before she came to Yorkshire. She answered all these questions and many more and he lay back on his pillow and listened. He made her tell him a great deal about India and about her voyage across the ocean. She found out that because he had been an invalid he had not learned things as other children had. One of his nurses had taught him to read when he was quite little and he was always reading and looking at pictures in splendid books.

Though his father rarely saw him when he was awake, he was given all sorts of wonderful things to amuse himself with. He never seemed to have been amused, however. He could have anything he asked for and was never made to do anything he did not like to do.

“Everyone is obliged to do what pleases me,” he said indifferently. “It makes me ill to be angry. No one believes I shall live to grow up.”

He said it as if he was so accustomed to the idea that it had ceased to matter to him at all. He seemed to like the sound of Mary's voice. As she went on talking he listened in a drowsy, interested way. Once or twice she wondered if he were not gradually falling into a doze. But at last he asked a question which opened up a new subject.

“How old are you?” he asked.

“I am ten,” answered Mary, forgetting herself for the moment, “and so are you.”

“How do you know that?” he demanded in a surprised voice.

“Because when you were born the garden door was locked and the key was buried. And it has been locked for ten years.”

Colin half sat up, turning toward her, leaning on his elbows.

“What garden door was locked? Who did it? Where was the key buried?” he exclaimed as if he were suddenly very much interested.

“It—it was the garden Mr. Craven hates,” said Mary nervously. “He locked the door. No one—no one knew where he buried the key.”

“What sort of a garden is it?” Colin persisted eagerly.

“No one has been allowed to go into it for ten years,” was Mary's careful answer.

But it was too late to be careful. He was too much like herself. He too had had nothing to think about and the idea of a hidden garden attracted him as it had attracted her. He asked question after question. Where was it? Had she never looked for the door? Had she never asked the gardeners?

“They won't talk about it,” said Mary. “I think they have been told not to answer questions.”

“I would make them,” said Colin.

“Could you?” Mary faltered, beginning to feel frightened. If he could make people answer questions, who knew what might happen!

“Everyone is obliged to please me. I told you that,” he said. “If I were to live, this place would sometime belong to me. They all know that. I would make them tell me.”

Mary had not known that she herself had been spoiled, but she could see quite plainly that this mysterious boy had been. He thought that the whole world belonged to him. How peculiar he was and how coolly he spoke of not living.

“Do you think you won't live?” she asked, partly because she was curious and partly in hope of making him forget the garden.

“I don't suppose I shall,” he answered as indifferently as he had spoken before. “Ever since I remember anything I have heard people say I shan't. At first they thought I was too little to understand and now they think I don't hear. But I do. My doctor is my father's cousin. He is quite poor and if I die he will have all Misselthwaite when my father is dead. I should think he wouldn't want me to live.”

“Do you want to live?” inquired Mary.

“No,” he answered, in a cross, tired fashion. “But I don't want to die. When I feel ill I lie here and think about it until I cry and cry.”

“I have heard you crying three times,” Mary said, “but I did not know who it was. Were you crying about that?” She did so want him to forget the garden.

“I dare say,” he answered. “Let us talk about something else. Talk about that garden. Don't you want to see it?”

“Yes,” answered Mary, in quite a low voice.

“I do,” he went on persistently. “I don't think I ever really wanted to see anything before, but I want to see that garden. I want the key dug up. I want the door unlocked. I would let them take me there in my chair. That would be getting fresh air. I am going to make them open the door.”

He had become quite excited and his strange eyes began to shine like stars and looked more immense than ever.

“They have to please me,” he said. “I will make them take me there and I will let you go, too.”

Mary's hands clutched each other. Everything would be spoiled—everything! Dickon would never come back. She would never again feel like a missel thrush with a safe-hidden nest.

“Oh, don't—don't—don't—don't do that!” she cried out.

He stared as if he thought she had gone crazy!

“Why?” he exclaimed. “You said you wanted to see it.”

“I do,” she answered almost with a sob in her throat, “but if you make them open the door and take you in like that it will never be a secret again.”

He leaned still farther forward.

“A secret,” he said. “What do you mean? Tell me.”

Mary's words almost tumbled over one another.

“You see—you see,” she panted, “if no one knows but ourselves—if there was a door, hidden somewhere under the ivy—if there was—and we could find it; and if we could slip through it together and shut it behind us, and no one knew anyone was inside and we called it our garden and pretended that—that we were missel thrushes and it was our nest, and if we played there almost every day and dug and planted seeds and made it all come alive—”

“Is it dead?” he interrupted her.

“It soon will be if no one cares for it,” she went on. “The bulbs will live but the roses—”

He stopped her again as excited as she was herself.

“What are bulbs?” he put in quickly.

“They are daffodils and lilies and snowdrops. They are working in the earth now—pushing up pale green points because the spring is coming.”

“Is the spring coming?” he said. “What is it like? You don't see it in rooms if you are ill.”

“It is the sun shining on the rain and the rain falling on the sunshine, and things pushing up and working under the earth,” said Mary. “If the garden was a secret and we could get into it we could watch the things grow bigger every day, and see how many roses are alive. Don't you see? Oh, don't you see how much nicer it would be if it was a secret?”

He dropped back on his pillow and lay there with an odd expression on his face.

“I never had a secret,” he said, “except that one about not living to grow up. They don't know I know that, so it is a sort of secret. But I like this kind better.”

“If you won't make them take you to the garden,” pleaded Mary, “perhaps—I feel almost sure I can find out how to get in sometime. And then—if the doctor wants you to go out in your chair, and if you can always do what you want to do, perhaps—perhaps we might find some boy who would push you, and we could go alone and it would always be a secret garden.”

“I should—like—that,” he said very slowly, his eyes looking dreamy. “I should like that. I should not mind fresh air in a secret garden.”

Mary began to recover her breath and feel safer because the idea of keeping the secret seemed to please him. She felt almost sure that if she kept on talking and could make him see the garden in his mind as she had seen it he would like it so much that he could not bear to think that everybody might tramp in to it when they chose.

“I'll tell you what I think it would be like, if we could go into it,” she said. “It has been shut up so long things have grown into a tangle perhaps.”

The Secret Garden (18) Der geheime Garten (18) El jardín secreto (18) 秘密の花園 (18) Paslaptingasis sodas (18) O Jardim Secreto (18) Секретный сад (18) Gizli Bahçe (18) 秘密花园 (18) 秘密花園 (18)

Rooms are locked up and gardens are locked up—and you! Pokoje jsou zamčené a zahrady jsou zamčené – a vy! Have you been locked up?” Byl jsi zavřený?"

“No. "Ne. I stay in this room because I don't want to be moved out of it. Zůstávám v této místnosti, protože nechci, aby mě z ní vystěhovali. It tires me too much.” Příliš mě to unavuje."

“Does your father come and see you?” Mary ventured. "Přijde se na tebe podívat tvůj otec?" Mary se odvážila.

“Sometimes. "Někdy. Generally when I am asleep. Obecně, když spím. He doesn't want to see me.” Nechce mě vidět."

“Why?” Mary could not help asking again. "Proč?" Mary se nemohla nezeptat znovu.

A sort of angry shadow passed over the boy's face. |||colère|||||| Přes chlapcovu tvář přelétl jakýsi rozzlobený stín.

“My mother died when I was born and it makes him wretched to look at me. „Moje matka zemřela, když jsem se narodil, a je pro něj ubohý, když se na mě dívá. He thinks I don't know, but I've heard people talking. Myslí si, že nevím, ale slyšel jsem lidi mluvit. He almost hates me.”

“He hates the garden, because she died,” said Mary half speaking to herself. "Nenávidí zahradu, protože zemřela," řekla Mary napůl sama pro sebe.

“What garden?” the boy asked. "Jaká zahrada?" zeptal se chlapec.

“Oh! "Ach! just—just a garden she used to like,” Mary stammered. prostě – prostě zahrada, kterou měla ráda,“ koktala Mary. “Have you been here always?” "Byl jsi tu vždycky?"

“Nearly always. "Téměř vždy. Sometimes I have been taken to places at the seaside, but I won't stay because people stare at me. Někdy mě vzali na místa u moře, ale nezůstanu, protože na mě lidé zírají. I used to wear an iron thing to keep my back straight, but a grand doctor came from London to see me and said it was stupid. Kdysi jsem nosil železnou věc, abych měl rovná záda, ale přijel za mnou velký doktor z Londýna a řekl, že je to hloupost. He told them to take it off and keep me out in the fresh air. Řekl jim, aby to sundali a nechali mě na čerstvém vzduchu. I hate fresh air and I don't want to go out.” Nesnáším čerstvý vzduch a nechce se mi ven.“

“I didn't when first I came here,” said Mary. "Neudělala jsem to, když jsem sem přišla poprvé," řekla Mary. “Why do you keep looking at me like that?” "Proč se na mě pořád tak díváš?"

“Because of the dreams that are so real,” he answered rather fretfully. "Kvůli snům, které jsou tak skutečné," odpověděl poněkud podrážděně. “Sometimes when I open my eyes I don't believe I'm awake.” "Někdy, když otevřu oči, nevěřím, že jsem vzhůru."

“We're both awake,” said Mary. "Oba jsme vzhůru," řekla Mary. She glanced round the room with its high ceiling and shadowy corners and dim fire-light. Rozhlédla se po místnosti s vysokým stropem, stinnými rohy a tlumeným světlem ohně. “It looks quite like a dream, and it's the middle of the night, and everybody in the house is asleep—everybody but us. "Vypadá to docela jako sen a je uprostřed noci a všichni v domě spí - všichni kromě nás." We are wide awake.” Jsme úplně vzhůru."

“I don't want it to be a dream,” the boy said restlessly. "Nechci, aby to byl sen," řekl chlapec neklidně.

Mary thought of something all at once. Mary najednou něco napadlo.

“If you don't like people to see you,” she began, “do you want me to go away?” "Pokud se vám nelíbí, že vás lidé vidí," začala, "chcete, abych odešla?"

He still held the fold of her wrapper and he gave it a little pull. |||||||dressing gown||||||| Stále držel záhyb jejího obalu a trochu za něj zatáhl.

“No,” he said. “I should be sure you were a dream if you went. "Měl bych si být jistý, že jsi byl sen, kdybys šel." If you are real, sit down on that big footstool and talk. Pokud jsi skutečný, sedni si na tu velkou podnožku a mluv. I want to hear about you.” Chci o tobě slyšet."

Mary put down her candle on the table near the bed and sat down on the cushioned stool. Mary odložila svíčku na stůl blízko postele a posadila se na polstrovanou stoličku. She did not want to go away at all. Vůbec se jí nechtělo pryč. She wanted to stay in the mysterious hidden-away room and talk to the mysterious boy. Chtěla zůstat v tajemné skryté místnosti a promluvit si s tajemným chlapcem.

“What do you want me to tell you?” she said. "Co chceš, abych ti řekl?" ona řekla.

He wanted to know how long she had been at Misselthwaite; he wanted to know which corridor her room was on; he wanted to know what she had been doing; if she disliked the moor as he disliked it; where she had lived before she came to Yorkshire. Chtěl vědět, jak dlouho byla v Misselthwaite; chtěl vědět, na které chodbě je její pokoj; chtěl vědět, co dělala; kdyby se jí nelíbilo vřesoviště, jako se nelíbilo jemu; kde žila, než přišla do Yorkshiru. She answered all these questions and many more and he lay back on his pillow and listened. Odpověděla na všechny tyto otázky a mnoho dalších a on si lehl na polštář a poslouchal. He made her tell him a great deal about India and about her voyage across the ocean. Donutil ji, aby mu řekla hodně o Indii ao své cestě přes oceán. She found out that because he had been an invalid he had not learned things as other children had. Zjistila, že protože byl invalida, nenaučil se věci jako ostatní děti. One of his nurses had taught him to read when he was quite little and he was always reading and looking at pictures in splendid books. Jedna z jeho ošetřovatelek ho naučila číst, když byl docela malý, a on pořád četl a prohlížel si obrázky v nádherných knihách.

Though his father rarely saw him when he was awake, he was given all sorts of wonderful things to amuse himself with. Ačkoli ho jeho otec vídal jen zřídka, když byl vzhůru, dostával spoustu úžasných věcí, kterými se mohl pobavit. He never seemed to have been amused, however. Zdálo se však, že ho to nikdy nepobavilo. He could have anything he asked for and was never made to do anything he did not like to do. Mohl mít cokoli, oč požádal, a nikdy nebyl nucen dělat něco, co by nerad dělal.

“Everyone is obliged to do what pleases me,” he said indifferently. "Každý je povinen dělat to, co se mi líbí," řekl lhostejně. “It makes me ill to be angry. "Je mi špatně, když se zlobím." No one believes I shall live to grow up.” Nikdo nevěří, že se dožiju dospělosti."

He said it as if he was so accustomed to the idea that it had ceased to matter to him at all. Řekl to, jako by byl na tu myšlenku tak zvyklý, že mu na tom přestalo záležet. He seemed to like the sound of Mary's voice. Zdálo se, že se mu zvuk Maryina hlasu líbí. As she went on talking he listened in a drowsy, interested way. Jak pokračovala v hovoru, poslouchal ospalým a zaujatým způsobem. Once or twice she wondered if he were not gradually falling into a doze. Jednou nebo dvakrát ji napadlo, jestli postupně neupadá do dřímoty. But at last he asked a question which opened up a new subject. Ale nakonec položil otázku, která otevřela nové téma.

“How old are you?” he asked. "Kolik je Vám let?" zeptal se.

“I am ten,” answered Mary, forgetting herself for the moment, “and so are you.” "Je mi deset," odpověděla Mary a na chvíli na sebe zapomněla, "a tobě taky."

“How do you know that?” he demanded in a surprised voice. "Jak víte, že?" zeptal se překvapeným hlasem.

“Because when you were born the garden door was locked and the key was buried. "Protože když jsi se narodil, dveře zahrady byly zamčené a klíč zakopaný." And it has been locked for ten years.” A je zamčený už deset let.“

Colin half sat up, turning toward her, leaning on his elbows. Colin se napůl posadil, otočil se k ní a opřel se o lokty.

“What garden door was locked? „Jaké zahradní dveře byly zamčené? Who did it? Kdo to udělal? Where was the key buried?” he exclaimed as if he were suddenly very much interested. Kde byl zakopaný klíč?" zvolal, jako by ho to najednou velmi zajímalo.

“It—it was the garden Mr. Craven hates,” said Mary nervously. "To - byla to zahrada, kterou pan Craven nenávidí," řekla Mary nervózně. “He locked the door. “ Zamkl dveře. No one—no one knew where he buried the key.” Nikdo - nikdo nevěděl, kde zakopal klíč."

“What sort of a garden is it?” Colin persisted eagerly. "Co je to za zahradu?" naléhal Colin dychtivě.

“No one has been allowed to go into it for ten years,” was Mary's careful answer. „Už deset let do toho nikdo nesmí jít,“ zněla Maryina opatrná odpověď.

But it was too late to be careful. Ale na opatrnost už bylo pozdě. He was too much like herself. Byl jí příliš podobný. He too had had nothing to think about and the idea of a hidden garden attracted him as it had attracted her. ||avait||||||||||||||||||| Ani on neměl o čem přemýšlet a představa skryté zahrady ho přitahovala stejně jako ji. He asked question after question. Ptal se otázku za otázkou. Where was it? Kde to bylo? Had she never looked for the door? Nikdy nehledala dveře? Had she never asked the gardeners? Nikdy se nezeptala zahradníků?

“They won't talk about it,” said Mary. "Nebudou o tom mluvit," řekla Mary. “I think they have been told not to answer questions.” "Myslím, že jim bylo řečeno, aby neodpovídali na otázky."

“I would make them,” said Colin. "Udělal bych je," řekl Colin.

“Could you?” Mary faltered, beginning to feel frightened. "Mohl bys?" Mary se zapotácela a začala pociťovat strach. If he could make people answer questions, who knew what might happen! Kdyby dokázal přimět lidi, aby odpovídali na otázky, kdo ví, co se může stát!

“Everyone is obliged to please me. „Každý je povinen mě potěšit. I told you that,” he said. Řekl jsem ti to,“ řekl. “If I were to live, this place would sometime belong to me. „Kdybych měl žít, tohle místo by jednou patřilo mně. They all know that. Všichni to vědí. I would make them tell me.” Přiměl bych je, aby mi to řekli."

Mary had not known that she herself had been spoiled, but she could see quite plainly that this mysterious boy had been. Mary nevěděla, že ona sama byla rozmazlená, ale zcela jasně viděla, že tento záhadný chlapec byl. Mary ne savait pas qu'elle avait elle-même été gâtée, mais elle pouvait voir très clairement que ce garçon mystérieux l'avait été. He thought that the whole world belonged to him. Myslel si, že mu patří celý svět. Il pensait que le monde entier lui appartenait. How peculiar he was and how coolly he spoke of not living. Jak byl zvláštní a jak chladně mluvil o tom, že nežije. Comme il était étrange et comme il parlait avec désinvolte du fait de ne pas vivre.

“Do you think you won't live?” she asked, partly because she was curious and partly in hope of making him forget the garden. "Myslíš, že nebudeš žít?" zeptala se, částečně proto, že byla zvědavá, a částečně v naději, že zapomene na zahradu.

“I don't suppose I shall,” he answered as indifferently as he had spoken before. "Předpokládám, že ne," odpověděl stejně lhostejně, jako mluvil předtím. “Ever since I remember anything I have heard people say I shan't. "Od té doby, co si na cokoli pamatuji, jsem slyšel lidi říkat, že nebudu." « Depuis que je me souviens de quoi que ce soit, j'ai entendu des gens dire que je ne devrais pas. » At first they thought I was too little to understand and now they think I don't hear. Nejdřív si mysleli, že jsem příliš malý na to, abych to pochopil, a teď si myslí, že neslyším. Au début, ils pensaient que j'étais trop petit pour comprendre et maintenant ils pensent que je n'entends pas. But I do. Ale já ano. Mais je le fais. My doctor is my father's cousin. Můj doktor je bratranec mého otce. He is quite poor and if I die he will have all Misselthwaite when my father is dead. Je docela chudý a pokud zemřu, bude mít celý Misselthwaite, až bude můj otec mrtvý. I should think he wouldn't want me to live.” Měl bych si myslet, že by nechtěl, abych žil." Je devrais penser qu'il ne voudrait pas que je vive.

“Do you want to live?” inquired Mary. "Chceš žít?" zeptala se Mary. « Veux-tu vivre ? » demanda Mary.

“No,” he answered, in a cross, tired fashion. "Ne," odpověděl křivě, unaveně. « Non, » répondit-il, d'un ton irrité et fatigué. “But I don't want to die. "Ale já nechci zemřít." When I feel ill I lie here and think about it until I cry and cry.” Když je mi špatně, ležím tady a přemýšlím o tom, dokud nebudu plakat a plakat."

“I have heard you crying three times,” Mary said, “but I did not know who it was. „Třikrát jsem tě slyšela plakat,“ řekla Mary, „ale nevěděla jsem, kdo to byl. « Je t'ai entendu pleurer trois fois, » dit Mary, « mais je ne savais pas qui c'était. Were you crying about that?” She did so want him to forget the garden. Brečel jsi kvůli tomu?" Chtěla, aby zapomněl na zahradu. Tu pleurais à ce sujet ? » Elle souhaitait tellement qu'il oublie le jardin.

“I dare say,” he answered. "Troufám si říct," odpověděl. « Je suppose, » répondit-il. “Let us talk about something else. "Promluvme si o něčem jiném. Talk about that garden. Mluvte o té zahradě. Don't you want to see it?” Nechceš to vidět?"

“Yes,” answered Mary, in quite a low voice. "Ano," odpověděla Mary docela tichým hlasem.

“I do,” he went on persistently. "Mám," pokračoval vytrvale. “I don't think I ever really wanted to see anything before, but I want to see that garden. „Nemyslím si, že jsem nikdy předtím něco opravdu chtěl vidět, ale chci vidět tu zahradu. I want the key dug up. Chci vykopat klíč. I want the door unlocked. Chci dveře odemčené. I would let them take me there in my chair. Nechal bych je, aby mě tam vzali na židli. That would be getting fresh air. To by byl čerstvý vzduch. I am going to make them open the door.” Přinutím je otevřít dveře."

He had become quite excited and his strange eyes began to shine like stars and looked more immense than ever. Byl docela vzrušený a jeho podivné oči začaly zářit jako hvězdy a vypadaly mnohem víc než kdy jindy.

“They have to please me,” he said. "Musí mě potěšit," řekl. “I will make them take me there and I will let you go, too.” "Donutím je, aby mě tam vzali, a nechám tě jít taky."

Mary's hands clutched each other. Mary se navzájem sevřely ruce. Everything would be spoiled—everything! Všechno by bylo zkažené – všechno! Dickon would never come back. Dickon by se nikdy nevrátil. She would never again feel like a missel thrush with a safe-hidden nest. ||||||||bird||||| Už se nikdy nebude cítit jako drozd s bezpečným skrytým hnízdem.

“Oh, don't—don't—don't—don't do that!” she cried out. "Ach, nedělej - nedělej - nedělej to!" vykřikla.

He stared as if he thought she had gone crazy! Zíral, jako by si myslel, že se zbláznila!

“Why?” he exclaimed. "Proč?" zvolal. “You said you wanted to see it.” "Říkal jsi, že to chceš vidět."

“I do,” she answered almost with a sob in her throat, “but if you make them open the door and take you in like that it will never be a secret again.” "Ano," odpověděla téměř se vzlykem v hrdle, "ale když je přinutíš otevřít dveře a vezmeš tě dovnitř, už to nikdy nebude tajemství."

He leaned still farther forward. Naklonil se ještě více dopředu.

“A secret,” he said. "Tajemství," řekl. “What do you mean? "Co myslíš? Tell me.” Řekni mi."

Mary's words almost tumbled over one another. Maryina slova téměř přepadla jedno přes druhé.

“Is it dead?” he interrupted her. "Je to mrtvé?" přerušil ji.

“It soon will be if no one cares for it,” she went on. "Brzy to bude, pokud se o to nikdo nebude starat," pokračovala. “The bulbs will live but the roses—” „Cibulky přežijí, ale růže –“

He stopped her again as excited as she was herself. Znovu ji zastavil, stejně vzrušený jako ona sama.

“What are bulbs?” he put in quickly. "Co jsou žárovky?" rychle zařadil.

“They are daffodils and lilies and snowdrops. „Jsou to narcisy, lilie a sněženky. They are working in the earth now—pushing up pale green points because the spring is coming.” Nyní pracují v zemi – tlačí nahoru světle zelené body, protože přichází jaro.

“Is the spring coming?” he said. "Přichází jaro?" řekl. “What is it like? "Jaké to je? You don't see it in rooms if you are ill.” Když jsi nemocný, na pokojích to nevidíš."

“It is the sun shining on the rain and the rain falling on the sunshine, and things pushing up and working under the earth,” said Mary. „Je to slunce svítící na déšť a déšť dopadající na sluneční svit a věci, které se tlačí nahoru a pracují pod zemí,“ řekla Mary. « C'est le soleil qui brille sur la pluie et la pluie qui tombe sur le soleil, et les choses qui poussent et travaillent sous la terre », a dit Mary. “If the garden was a secret and we could get into it we could watch the things grow bigger every day, and see how many roses are alive. „Kdyby byla zahrada tajemstvím a my bychom se do ní mohli dostat, mohli bychom každý den sledovat, jak se věci zvětšují, a vidět, kolik růží žije. « Si le jardin était un secret et que nous pouvions y entrer, nous pourrions regarder les choses grandir chaque jour et voir combien de roses sont en vie. Don't you see? Copak nevidíš? Ne vois-tu pas ? Oh, don't you see how much nicer it would be if it was a secret?” Ach, copak nevidíš, oč hezčí by to bylo, kdyby to bylo tajemství?"

He dropped back on his pillow and lay there with an odd expression on his face. Padl zpátky na polštář a ležel tam s podivným výrazem ve tváři.

“I never had a secret,” he said, “except that one about not living to grow up. "Nikdy jsem neměl tajemství," řekl, "kromě toho, že se nedožiju dospělosti. They don't know I know that, so it is a sort of secret. Nevědí, že to vím, takže je to jakési tajemství. But I like this kind better.” Ale tenhle druh se mi líbí víc."

“If you won't make them take you to the garden,” pleaded Mary, “perhaps—I feel almost sure I can find out how to get in sometime. "Jestli je nepřinutíš, aby tě vzali do zahrady," prosila Mary, "možná - jsem si téměř jistá, že někdy zjistím, jak se tam dostat." And then—if the doctor wants you to go out in your chair, and if you can always do what you want to do, perhaps—perhaps we might find some boy who would push you, and we could go alone and it would always be a secret garden.” A pak – pokud doktor chce, abyste šel na své křeslo, a pokud můžete vždy dělat, co chcete, možná – možná bychom našli nějakého kluka, který by na vás tlačil, a mohli bychom jít sami a vždycky by to bylo tajná zahrada."

“I should—like—that,” he said very slowly, his eyes looking dreamy. "Měl bych - jako - to," řekl velmi pomalu a jeho oči vypadaly zasněně. “I should like that. "To by se mi líbilo." I should not mind fresh air in a secret garden.” Čerstvý vzduch v tajné zahradě by mi neměl vadit."

Mary began to recover her breath and feel safer because the idea of keeping the secret seemed to please him. Mary začala znovu nabírat dech a cítila se bezpečněji, protože se mu zdálo, že myšlenka udržet tajemství ho potěšila. She felt almost sure that if she kept on talking and could make him see the garden in his mind as she had seen it he would like it so much that he could not bear to think that everybody might tramp in to it when they chose. Byla si téměř jistá, že když bude dál mluvit a dokáže ho přimět, aby viděl zahradu v jeho mysli tak, jak ji viděla ona, tak se mu bude líbit, že by nesnesl pomyšlení, že by do ní každý mohl zašlápnout, když by chtěl. Elle était presque sûre que si elle continuait à parler et pouvait lui faire voir le jardin dans son esprit comme elle l'avait vu, il l'apprécierait tellement qu'il ne pourrait pas supporter de penser que tout le monde pourrait y entrer quand il le souhaiterait.

“I'll tell you what I think it would be like, if we could go into it,” she said. "Řeknu ti, jaké by to podle mě bylo, kdybychom do toho mohli jít," řekla. « Je vais te dire ce que je pense que ce serait, si nous pouvions y entrer », dit-elle. “It has been shut up so long things have grown into a tangle perhaps.” "Bylo to zavřené tak dlouho, že se věci možná rozrostly do spleti." « Il a été fermé si longtemps que les choses ont peut-être poussé en un enchevêtrement. »

He lay quite still and listened while she went on talking about the roses which might have clambered from tree to tree and hung down—about the many birds which might have built their nests there because it was so safe. Ležel zcela klidně a naslouchal, zatímco ona pokračovala v povídání o růžích, které mohly šplhat ze stromu na strom a visely dolů – o mnoha ptácích, kteří si tam možná postavili hnízda, protože to bylo tak bezpečné.