Маленька принцеса
Ermengarde
ToexplainMissSt.John’samazementonemustrecallthatanewpupilis,forashorttime,asomewhatuncertainthing;andofthisnewpupiltheentireschoolhadtalkedthenightbeforeuntilitfellasleepquiteexhaustedbyexcitementandcontradictorystories.Anewpupilwithacarriageandaponyandamaid,andavoyagefromIndiatodiscuss,wasnotanordinaryacquaintance.
"Myname’sErmengardeSt.John,"sheanswered.
"MineisSaraCrewe,"saidSara."Yoursisverypretty.Itsoundslikeastorybook."
"Doyoulikeit?"flutteredErmengarde."I—Ilikeyours."
MissSt.John’schieftroubleinlifewasthatshehadacleverfather.Sometimesthisseemedtoheradreadfulcalamity.Ifyouhaveafatherwhoknowseverything,whospeakssevenoreightlanguages,andhasthousandsofvolumeswhichhehasapparentlylearnedbyheart,hefrequentlyexpectsyoutobefamiliarwiththecontentsofyourlessonbooksatleast;anditisnotimprobablethathewillfeelyououghttobeabletorememberafewincidentsofhistoryandtowriteaFrenchexercise.ErmengardewasaseveretrialtoMr.St.John.Hecouldnotunderstandhowachildofhiscouldbeanotablyandunmistakablydullcreaturewhonevershoneinanything.
"Goodheavens!"hehadsaidmorethanonce,ashestaredather,"therearetimeswhenIthinksheisasstupidasherAuntEliza!"
IfherAuntElizahadbeenslowtolearnandquicktoforgetathingentirelywhenshehadlearnedit,Ermengardewasstrikinglylikeher.Shewasthemonumentaldunceoftheschool,anditcouldnotbedenied.
"ShemustbeMADEtolearn,"herfathersaidtoMissMinchin.
