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- Луиза Мэй Олкотт
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- Стр. 411/451
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But
Amy
whispered
,
with
full
eyes
,
as
she
twirled
the
faded
stool
,
"
Not
tonight
,
dear
.
I
can
’
t
show
off
tonight
.
"
But
she
did
show
something
better
than
brilliancy
or
skill
,
for
she
sang
Beth
’
s
songs
with
a
tender
music
in
her
voice
which
the
best
master
could
not
have
taught
,
and
touched
the
listener
’
s
hearts
with
a
sweeter
power
than
any
other
inspiration
could
have
given
her
.
The
room
was
very
still
,
when
the
clear
voice
failed
suddenly
at
the
last
line
of
Beth
’
s
favorite
hymn
.
It
was
hard
to
say
.
.
.
Earth
hath
no
sorrow
that
heaven
cannot
heal
;
and
Amy
leaned
against
her
husband
,
who
stood
behind
her
,
feeling
that
her
welcome
home
was
not
quite
perfect
without
Beth
’
s
kiss
.
"
Now
,
we
must
finish
with
Mignon
’
s
song
,
for
Mr
.
Bhaer
sings
that
,
"
said
Jo
,
before
the
pause
grew
painful
.
And
Mr
.
Bhaer
cleared
his
throat
with
a
gratified
"
Hem
!
"
as
he
stepped
into
the
corner
where
Jo
stood
,
saying
.
.
.
"
You
will
sing
with
me
?
We
go
excellently
well
together
.
"
A
pleasing
fiction
,
by
the
way
,
for
Jo
had
no
more
idea
of
music
than
a
grasshopper
.
But
she
would
have
consented
if
he
had
proposed
to
sing
a
whole
opera
,
and
warbled
away
,
blissfully
regardless
of
time
and
tune
.
It
didn
’
t
much
matter
,
for
Mr
.
Bhaer
sang
like
a
true
German
,
heartily
and
well
,
and
Jo
soon
subsided
into
a
subdued
hum
,
that
she
might
listen
to
the
mellow
voice
that
seemed
to
sing
for
her
alone
.
Know
’
st
thou
the
land
where
the
citron
blooms
,
used
to
be
the
Professor
’
s
favorite
line
,
for
‘
das
land
’
meant
Germany
to
him
,
but
now
he
seemed
to
dwell
,
with
peculiar
warmth
and
melody
,
upon
the
words
.
.
.
There
,
oh
there
,
might
I
with
thee
,
