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- Луиза Мэй Олкотт
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"
Jo
,
dear
,
don
’
t
hope
any
more
.
It
won
’
t
do
any
good
.
I
’
m
sure
of
that
.
We
won
’
t
be
miserable
,
but
enjoy
being
together
while
we
wait
.
We
’
ll
have
happy
times
,
for
I
don
’
t
suffer
much
,
and
I
think
the
tide
will
go
out
easily
,
if
you
help
me
.
"
Jo
leaned
down
to
kiss
the
tranquil
face
,
and
with
that
silent
kiss
,
she
dedicated
herself
soul
and
body
to
Beth
.
She
was
right
.
There
was
no
need
of
any
words
when
they
got
home
,
for
Father
and
Mother
saw
plainly
now
what
they
had
prayed
to
be
saved
from
seeing
.
Tired
with
her
short
journey
,
Beth
went
at
once
to
bed
,
saying
how
glad
she
was
to
be
home
,
and
when
Jo
went
down
,
she
found
that
she
would
be
spared
the
hard
task
of
telling
Beth
’
s
secret
.
Her
father
stood
leaning
his
head
on
the
mantelpiece
and
did
not
turn
as
she
came
in
,
but
her
mother
stretched
out
her
arms
as
if
for
help
,
and
Jo
went
to
comfort
her
without
a
word
.
At
three
o
’
clock
in
the
afternoon
,
all
the
fashionable
world
at
Nice
may
be
seen
on
the
Promenade
des
Anglais
—
a
charming
place
,
for
the
wide
walk
,
bordered
with
palms
,
flowers
,
and
tropical
shrubs
,
is
bounded
on
one
side
by
the
sea
,
on
the
other
by
the
grand
drive
,
lined
with
hotels
and
villas
,
while
beyond
lie
orange
orchards
and
the
hills
.
Many
nations
are
represented
,
many
languages
spoken
,
many
costumes
worn
,
and
on
a
sunny
day
the
spectacle
is
as
gay
and
brilliant
as
a
carnival
.
Haughty
English
,
lively
French
,
sober
Germans
,
handsome
Spaniards
,
ugly
Russians
,
meek
Jews
,
free
-
and
-
easy
Americans
,
all
drive
,
sit
,
or
saunter
here
,
chatting
over
the
news
,
and
criticizing
the
latest
celebrity
who
has
arrived
—
Ristori
or
Dickens
,
Victor
Emmanuel
or
the
Queen
of
the
Sandwich
Islands
.
The
equipages
are
as
varied
as
the
company
and
attract
as
much
attention
,
especially
the
low
basket
barouches
in
which
ladies
drive
themselves
,
with
a
pair
of
dashing
ponies
,
gay
nets
to
keep
their
voluminous
flounces
from
overflowing
the
diminutive
vehicles
,
and
little
grooms
on
the
perch
behind
.
Along
this
walk
,
on
Christmas
Day
,
a
tall
young
man
walked
slowly
,
with
his
hands
behind
him
,
and
a
somewhat
absent
expression
of
countenance
.
He
looked
like
an
Italian
,
was
dressed
like
an
Englishman
,
and
had
the
independent
air
of
an
American
—
a
combination
which
caused
sundry
pairs
of
feminine
eyes
to
look
approvingly
after
him
,
and
sundry
dandies
in
black
velvet
suits
,
with
rose
-
colored
neckties
,
buff
gloves
,
and
orange
flowers
in
their
buttonholes
,
to
shrug
their
shoulders
,
and
then
envy
him
his
inches
.
There
were
plenty
of
pretty
faces
to
admire
,
but
the
young
man
took
little
notice
of
them
,
except
to
glance
now
and
then
at
some
blonde
girl
in
blue
.
Presently
he
strolled
out
of
the
promenade
and
stood
a
moment
at
the
crossing
,
as
if
undecided
whether
to
go
and
listen
to
the
band
in
the
Jardin
Publique
,
or
to
wander
along
the
beach
toward
Castle
Hill
.
The
quick
trot
of
ponies
’
feet
made
him
look
up
,
as
one
of
the
little
carriages
,
containing
a
single
young
lady
,
came
rapidly
down
the
street
.
The
lady
was
young
,
blonde
,
and
dressed
in
blue
.
He
stared
a
minute
,
then
his
whole
face
woke
up
,
and
,
waving
his
hat
like
a
boy
,
he
hurried
forward
to
meet
her
.
"
Oh
,
Laurie
,
is
it
really
you
?
I
thought
you
’
d
never
come
!
"
cried
Amy
,
dropping
the
reins
and
holding
out
both
hands
,
to
the
great
scandalization
of
a
French
mamma
,
who
hastened
her
daughter
’
s
steps
,
lest
she
should
be
demoralized
by
beholding
the
free
manners
of
these
‘
mad
English
’
.
"
I
was
detained
by
the
way
,
but
I
promised
to
spend
Christmas
with
you
,
and
here
I
am
.
"
"
How
is
your
grandfather
?
When
did
you
come
?
Where
are
you
staying
?
"
