THE ENCHANTED DOLL

Ngày tham gia : 13/08/2011


	THE ENCHANTED DOLL By PAUL GALLICO Simplified by CHRISTINE ROSE The story I am going to tell you began three years ago - and it all happened because of a doll. I am a doctor and my name is Stephen Amony. The house where I live and work is in London, by the River Thames. I can clearly remember that October day three years ago. From my window I could see the early morning sun shining on the river. I left my house to go and buy a copy of the Times, which I did every morning. There was a flower shop on the corner of the road where I lived. As I reached the corner I could see the brightly-coloured flowers. I turned into Abbey Lane. A few minutes later I arrived at the shop to buy my Times. Before I went inside I stopped to look in the window. I had suddenly remembered that it was my niece's birthday next week. As usual it was full of toys, games, sweets, paper and pens. Some of them looked as if they had been there for years. I had almost decided that there was nothing my niece would like when I saw a doll. She was almost hidden in the corner of the window. She was made of cloth, but it was her face that I noticed. Although the face was painted, it had a lovely, gentle look. But the eyes seemed rather sad and I felt sorry for her sitting in that crowded window. I decided to have closer look at her. The shop was owned by a man named Jim Carter. As I walked in, he said brightly, "Good morning, Doctor Amony ! Do you want a copy of the Times as usual ?" "Yes, please, Jum," I replied. "I also need a present for my nieve. I'd like to see that doll in your window - the one in the corner, made of cloth." Jim looked surprised and said, "That doll ? Well, she's rather unusual but she's also very expensive, Doctor." He took her from the window and gave her to me, When I took the doll from him I nearly dropped her in surprise. She was made so beautifully that she seemed almost life like. Her clothes had been made by hand, and the face, which I could not see clearly, was hand-painted by an artist. It was lovely. Whoever had made her had done so with much love and care. It was this love that I thought I could sense in her face. I put her down gently. "How much do you want for her, Jum ?" I asked. I must have looked surprised because Jim said, "I said she was exprnsive, didn't I ? But I'll sell her to you for eleven pounds. In the centre of London they cost as much as twenty pounds." "Who made them ?" I asked. I was curious to know about the person who made such lovely dolls. "The woman who lives in Hardley Street. She's lived there for several years now, "Jim told me. " She sometimes comes into my shop - that's how I get the dolls to sell." The shop was owned by a man named Jim Carter. As I walked in, he said brightly, "Good morning, Doctor Amony ! Do you want a copy of the Times as usual ?" "Yes, please, Jum," I replied. "I also need a present for my nieve. I'd like to see that doll in your window - the one in the corner, made of cloth." Jim looked surprised and said, "That doll ? Well, she's rather unusual but she's also very expensive, Doctor." He took her from the window and gave her to me, When I took the doll from him I nearly dropped her in surprise. She was made so beautifully that she seemed almost life like. Her clothes had been made by hand, and the face, which I could not see clearly, was hand-painted by an artist. It was lovely. Whoever had made her had done so with much love and care. It was this love that I thought I could sense in her face. I put her down gently. "How much do you want for her, Jum ?" I asked. I must have looked surprised because Jim said, "I said she was exprnsive, didn't I ? But I'll sell her to you for eleven pounds. In the centre of London they cost as much as twenty pounds." "Who made them ?" I asked. I was curious to know about the person who made such lovely dolls. "The woman who lives in Hardley Street. She's lived there for several years now, "Jim told me. " She sometimes comes into my shop - that's how I get the dolls to sell." "What's her name ? What's she like ?" I asked. "I'm not sure of her name," Jim replied. "It's something like "Callamy". She's a tall, red-haired woman. She owns many expensive coats. But she's got a hard-looking face and she doesn't say much when she comes in here." He stopped for a minute and then added, "I've never seen her smile." I couldn't understand this. How could a woman like that make such a beautiful doll ? As I counted out the pound notes, I felt rather silly. Although the doll was a present for my niece, I knew the real reason why I had bought her - I couldn't leave her in that dusty window. I took the doll home and there, in my small bedroom, she seemed to fill it with her love liness. I carefully put her into a box which I then covered with brown paper. In the afternoon I went to the post office and posted it my niece. I thought that now I would forget about that doll - but I didn't. I couldn't stop thinking about it. How could that beautiful doll have been made by the woman Jim told me about ? Once I thought of trying to find out who she was, but many children were suddenly ill in the cold, wet weather and I was busy for several weeks. I forgot all about the woman - and the doll. (To be continued) THE ENCHANTED DOLL One day, a few weeks later, my telephone rang. A woman’s voice said, “Is that Doctor Amony ?” “Yes,” I said. “Do you visit people who want to pay for treatment?” the woman asked. “Yes, sometimes,” I replied. “How much does it cost ?” she asked. The voice sounded rather unpleasant. The woman seemed to care more about the money than the person who was ill. I replied, “A visit will cost five pounds – but if you really can’t pay then I don’t ask for the money.” “That’s all right,” she said.” I can pay five pounds. My name is Rose Callamit. The house where I live is next to the cake shop in Hardley Street. My rooms are on the second floor.” “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” I told her. I arrived at the house ten minutes later. I went up the stairs. They were narrow, dusty and badly lit. As I reached the top, the door opened and the unpleasant voice said, “Doctor Amony ? please come in. I’m Rose Callamit.” In front of me stood a woman with unnatural looking red hair. She had dark eyes and her lips were a bright, shiny red. She was between forty-five and fifty years old. I was disapponited when I saw her, and my disappointment grew when I entered the front room. The furniture was cheaply made. On the cupboard in the corner were lots of small, glass bottles. There was no warmth here: It was a cold, ugly room. And then behind the door I noticed the dolls. They were hanging from the walls and were thrown carelessly on the bed. They were all different but each of them had the same grace and loveliness that I had seen in the doll I had bought for my niece. It seemed impossible that this woman was the maker of these dolls. “Aren’t you too young to be a doctor ?” Rose Callamit asked. I answered her sharply because I was disapponinted to find the dolls in this woman’s home. “I’m older than I look,” I said, “but if you think I’m too young, I’ll go.” I finished, angrily. She laughed at me. “There’s no need to be angry, Doc ! You’re very good-looking for a doctor.” “It’s because I’m a doctor that I don’t have time to waste. Are you the one who’s ill ?” I asked. “No. It’s my niece,” she replied. “ She’s in the back room. I’ll take you to her.” Before we went in, I had to know about the dolls. I asked, “Do you make these dolls ?” “Yes. Why ?” she asked. For some reason I felt very sad. “I bought one once for my niece,” I said quietly. She laughed. “I epect you paid a lot of money for it.” She led me through a hall to a smaller room at the back. As she started to open the door the door she shouted, “Mary, it’s she doctor.” Then as she pushed it wider to let me through, she said loudly, so that the girl could hear : “Don’t be surprised when you see her, Doctor. Her left leg is twisted !” The girl, Mary, was sitting in a chair by the window. As she heard these words, alook of deep misery came into her face. A gain I was angry at this nasty woman. Her words were making Mary think about her leg. Mary did not look more than twenty-five years old. But her face was very pale and her dark eyes seemed huge. It was as if her soul was dying. She was very ill. From my first visit I was sturck by the sweetness in her sad face. I rmemberd, too, her poor, thin body and her hair, which was dry and unhealthy. But I did see something that filled me with joy. She was surrounded by small tables. One of them was coverd with paints and brushes. On the others were needles, thread and pieces of cloth of many different colours and sizes – all the things needed to make the dolls. I could see that her illness was not caused by her twisted leg. But it was her leg that caught my attention. It was the way she sat. If it was what I thought it was – it could be straightened with treatment. “Can you walk, Mary ?” I asked. “Yes,” she answered quietly. “Please walk to me,” I asked, gently. “Oh, don’t,” she said, “Don’t make me.” I didn’t want to make her suffer but I had to be sure. “I’m sorry, Mary,” I said. “Please try.” She was very carefully got up from her chair and limped toward me. I looked very closely at her left lag. Yes, I was sure I was right. “That’s good,” I said, and I smiled to show that I was pleased. I help out my hands to help her. As she looked up, I saw again the misery and hopelessness that she was feeling. She seemed to be crying out silently to me for help. Her hands lifted towards mine – and then they fell back to her sides. The hope was gone. “How long have you been like this, Mary ?” I asked. Rose Callamit said, “Oh, Mary’s had that twisted leg for almost ten years now. But I did’t ask you to come for that. She’s ill. I want to know what’s the matter with her.” Oh yes, she was ill. She might even be dying. I knew that as soon as I saw her. I expected Rose to leave the room, but she didn’t. She laughed and said, “I’m staying here, Doctor Amony. You find out what’s the matter with Mary and then you can tell me.” When I finished looking at Mary I went with Rose into the front room. “Well ?” she said. “Did you know that her leg could be straightened ?” I asked. “With treatment she could be walking in.” “That’s enough !” She shouted these words and it made me jump. “Don’t you dare say anything about that to her,” she continued. “She’s been looked at by people who know. I won’t have some young fool raising her hopes. If you ever do, you won’t come here again. I want to know what’s the matter with her. She won’t eat or sleep and she isn’t working properly. What did you find out ?” “I don’t know what’s the matter with her yet,” I replied, “but she is slowly being destroyed by something. I shall want to see her again, soom. I’m going to give her something to take. It should make her feel stronger. I’ll call again in a few days.” “Don’t you say anything about fixing her leg, you understand ? If you do, I’ll get another doctor,” she added. “All right,” I said. I had to be able to visit Mary again. Perhaps when Mary was feeling better I might be able to talk about her leg. I would see... As I picked up my bag to leave I said, “I thought you said you made these dolls.” “I do,” she said in an unpleasant way. “I draw them and I let Mary make them. It helps her to keep her mind off her leg; and the fact that she will never marry and have children.” As I walked out into the bright October sunshine I knew that Rose Callamit had lied. I had found out who was the sweet person who made those dilightful dolls. But happy though I was about this, I was very troubled about Mary. Unless I was able to find out what was wrong with her, I knew she would soon die. (To be continued) THE ENCHANTED DOLL (Continued) During my next few visits I learned more about Mary. Her name was Mary Nolan and when she was fifteen years old she had been in a car crash. Her mother and father had been killed and Mary was badly hurt. This crash was the cause of her twisted leg. The court put Mary in the charghe of Rose Callamit as there was no one else to look after her. Rose was willing to look after the young girl. She thought that Mary’s father had been quite rich. When she found out that there was only a small amount of money she was unkind to Mary. She made her as unhappy as she could. She never let Mary forget her leg. She seemed to be saying : “No man will love you. You will never get married and have children. No man would want a wife with a twisted leg.” As the years passed, Mary began to believe her aunt. So she stayed with her and did what her aunt wanted her to do. She had no reason to fight against her aunt and leave, so she lived a hopeless and unhappy life. Then she started to make the dolls. Rose Callamit saw how lovely the dolls were and she knew they could be sold for lots of money. After she had sold a few, she made Mary work on them from morning until night. This had continued for several years. But now Mary was ill. Although Rose did not have any love for Mary, she was clever enough to know that without Mary the money would end. But I was still no nearer to finding out what was killing Mary. I could see that she was afraid of her aunt – but it wasn’t that. And I couldn’t find out from Mary herself, because her aunt was always with us. I felt that Mary found it difficult to say anything with Rose in the room. I did not tell Mary that I thought I could mend her leg. It was more important to discover why she didn’t want to live any more. For ten days Mary seemed to get better. I stopped her working on the dolls. I brought her some books to read and some chocolates to eat. When I called the next time, she smiled at me for the first time since I had seen her. “That’s better !” I said, delighted. “You’re to leave the dolls alone for another ten days. I want you to rest, sleep and read. Then we’ll see.” But I could see that Rose was unhappy at these words. When I called the next time she was waiting for me in her room. She said, “You don’t need to come any more, Doctor Amony.” “But Mary ...?” I started to say. “Mary is better now,” she replied. “Goodbye, Doctor.” My eyes went to the box in the corner of the room. There were three new dolls lying on the top of it. Their faces were as lovely as ever, but they seemed to me to have the look of death on them. Suddenly I was frightened for Mary. I knew that Rose Callamit was lying. I wanted to push this woman aside and crash through the door and see Mary. But I was a doctor and when doctors are told to leave, it is their duty to go. I had not found out what was the matter with Mary and I supposed that Rose was asking another doctor to call. So, sadly, I left. But in the days that followed I couldn’t forget Mary. I was continually troubled about her. (To be continued) THE ENCHANTED DOLL (Continued) Not long after this I became ill myself. It wasn’t much at first, but as the days passed it could clearly be seen. I saw a doctor friend of mine, who said that be could find nothing wrong with my body. He said that I had, perhaps, been working too hard. But I knew that this wasn’t the reason. I continued to get worse. I didn’t want to eat and I lost weight. I felt tired and restless. At night I didn’t sleep properly. I sometimes dreamed that I saw Mary calling to me for help, while Rose Callamit was holding Mary in her ugly arms. I began to look thin and pale. I couldn’t forget that I had not been able to help her. She had wanted me to help her and I had done nothing. One night I was so restless I couldn’t sleep at all. I walked up and down my room thinking about myself and my illness. It seemed that I was suffering from the same illness as Mary. Suddenly I knew what the matter was : I was in love with Mary Nolan ! It was because I couldn’t see her and take care of her that I felt so ill and unhappy. Now I knew why Mary was dying. She was dying because no one loved her and she had no one in the world to give her hope for the years to come. Her mother and father were dead. Her aunt fust kept her for the money she got from selling the dolls. Mary had no friends and worst of all, because of her leg, she felt she was ugly. Her life was empty – except for the dolls. I knew that I had to see her. I had to speak to her for a few minutes, alone – or she would be lost to me for ever. That morning I telephoned Jim Carter at his shop. “This is Doctor Amony, Jim. Will you do me favour ?” “Anything, Doc,” Jim said. “After you saved my son’s life last year, I’ll do anything you ask.” “Thanks, Jim,” I said. “Do you remember Mrs Rose Callamit, the doll woman ? Well, the next time she comes into your shop, I want you to try and telephone me – then keep her talking. I need twenty minutes. All right ? Good. I’ll bless you for the rest of my life.” I was frightened that be would telephone while I was out. So, each evening I put my head round the door of his shop. But he just shook his head to show me that there was no news. Then one day at five o’clock in the afternoon the telephone rang. It was Jim. He just said, “You could go now.” It only took me two or three minutes to run to the house where Mary lived. When I got there I ran up the stairs. I hoped I would be able to get in. Luckily, the door was not locked. Rose had only expented to be gone for a few minutes. She looked so thin now and very ill. She still had the paints and pieces of clothes around her. It was as if she wanted to make one more doll before she died. She looked up when I came in. Her eyes opened wide in surprise when she saw me. She thought it would be Rose. She said my name; not “Doctor Amony” but “Stephen”. “Mary !” I cried. “Thank God I’m in time. I’ve come to help you. I know what’s been making you ill.” “Does it matter now ?” she whispered. “There’s still time, Mary,” I said. “I know your secret. I know how to make you well. But you must listen while I tell you.” She just closed her eyes and said, quietly, “No. Don’t, please. Let me go. I don’t want to know. It will be over soon.” I sat down and held her hand. “Mary, please listen,” I asked, gently. “Each person has a certain store of love to give out through their life. This store is built up when they are children. They receive the love from their family as they grow up. “As they grow older, the love is given out and the store has to be refilled by kindness, happiness, joy and hope. That way there is always something left. But your store of love has been emptied, Mary, until there is nothing left.” I was not sure that she could still hear me, but I wanted her to live so much. I had to go on. “It was your aunt,” I said. “She took away all your hopes for love and appiness. And later on,” I continued, “she did a far worse thing – she took away your children.” I almost whispered these last words – but I felt I had to say them. I looked at Mary. Had I killed her ? I, who loved her so much ? Then I felt her small hand move in mine and her eye slowly opened. She seemed almost glad that I had said these words. This gave me hope so I continued to try and make her understand. THE ENCHANTED DOLL (Continued) “Oh,yes. Those dolls were your children, Mary. When you thought you had lost your chance to love and mother, you made those enchanted dolls. Into each one you put some of your love. You made them with gen tleness and care, and you love them as if they were your own children.” “Then each one was taken away and you were given nothing in return. Your continued to use up your store of love until even your soul was drawn from you. People can die when they have to love left inside them.” As I finished speaking she moved. She seemed to understand what I was saying. “But you won’t die, Mary,” I cried, “because I love you ! Do you hear me, Mary ? I love you and I cannot live without you.” “Love me ?” She whispered. “But I have a twisted leg. How can you love me ?” “That doesn’t matter to me, Mary. I still love you,” I said, gently. “But Rose lied to you, Your leg can be straightened. In a year you’ll be walking like any other girl.” Then, as I continued to look at her. I saw tears of joy in her eyes. She smiled at me in complete trust and put her arms out to me. I gathered her up in my arms. She weighed so little – she was like a bird. She held on to me as I put my coat round her to keep her warm. Then I carried her across the room. Suddenly we heard the front dorr shut and the sound of running footsteps. Then Mary’s door crashed open as Rose Callamit came into the room, angrily. I felt Mary start to shake with fear. She hid her face in my neck. But Rose was too late. There was nothing she could do now, and she knew it. Not a word was spoken as I walked past her, holding Mary close to me. I went out of her front door, down the stairs and into the street. Outside, the sun shone on the dusty street and the children were playing noisily as I carried Mary home. That was three years ago. As I write this, Mary is playing with our son. Our second child will be born in a few weeks. She does not make the dolls now. She doesn’t need to. But I silently bless the day when I first saw, and fell in love with, the enchanted doll in Jim Carter’s shop window.

Tài Sản của Angel
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Ngày tham gia : 13/08/2011


	k0 bik ai ráng dịch rùi đọc hết k0 ta

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Ngày tham gia : 30/08/2011


	thoy nha tớ ngán bài này lắm rồi sau một hồi dịch bài sang Tiếng Việt, em mới biết Tiếng Việt trong sáng và đáng iêu ntn`

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