Серебряные коньки

УДК 
372.8
ББК 
81.2 Англ-93
 
Д 60

ISBN 978-5-9925-0882-6

Додж Мэри Мейпс
Д 60 Серебряные коньки: Книга для чтения на английском языке. — СПб.: КАРО, 2013. — 384 с. (“Classical 
Literature”)

ISBN 978-5-9925-0882-6.

Предлагаем вниманию читателей наиболее известное 
произведение американской писательницы Мэри Мейпс Додж 
«Серебряные коньки».
Неадаптированный текст романа снабжен комментариями и словарем. Книга предназначена для студентов языковых 
вузов и учащихся специализированных школ и гимназий.

УДК 372.8
ББК 81.2 Англ-93

© КАРО, 2013

ОБ АВТОРЕ

Американская писательница Мэри Мэйпс Додж 
(1838–1905) родилась в семье известного изобретателя и ученого-химика Джеймса Дж. Мэйпса, который 
привил своим шестерым детям любовь к чтению. 
В 20 лет она вышла замуж за известного адвоката 
Уильяма Доджа, родила двоих сыновей и вскоре овдовела. Потеряв мужа, она начала писать книги, вначале 
для своих детей, а потом стала издавать их. Ее перу 
принадлежат несколько томов стихов и детской прозы, 
оказавших большое влияние на американскую детскую 
литературу. Додж была очень любима маленькими 
чита телями в Америке. Ее имя стало одним из самых 
известных среди детских писателей.
У писательницы было одно подлинное увлечение — 
Голландия. Она собирала самые разнообразные сведения — о флоре и фауне, об архитектуре и живописи, 
истории и литературе этой страны, об обычаях и нравах голландцев. Постепенно этот материал превратился в увлекательную историю, которую она пересказывала перед сном своим сыновьям. Так появилась знаме

ОБ АВТОРЕ

нитая книга «Ханс Бринкер, или Серебряные коньки». 
Книга впервые вышла в свет в 1865 году и за короткий срок стала бестселлером, ее перевели на множество языков, в том числе на русский (русский перевод называется «Серебряные коньки»).
С 1873 года Додж издавала популярный детский 
журнал «Святой Николай» (St. Nicolas), в котором частенько печатались такие классики детской литературы, как Марк Твен, Брет Гарт, Роберт Льюис Стивенсон 
и Редьярд Киплинг. После смерти Мэри Додж издательское дело продолжили ее сыновья.

To my father James J. Mapes  
this book is dedicated in gratitude and love

Hans and Gretel

On a bright December morning long ago, two thinly 
clad1 children were kneeling upon the bank of a frozen 
canal in Holland.
The sun had not yet appeared, but the gray sky was 
parted near the horizon, and its edges shone crimson 
with the coming day. Most of the good Hollanders were 
enjoying a placid morning nap. Even Mynheer2 von 
Stoppelnoze, that worthy old Dutchman, was still slumbering “in beautiful repose”.
Now and then some peasant woman, poising a wellfilled basket upon her head, came skimming over the 
glassy surface of the canal; or a lusty boy, skating to his 
day’s work in the town, cast a good-natured grimace 
toward the shivering pair as he flew along.
Meanwhile, with many a vigorous puff and pull, the 
brother and sister, for such they were, seemed to be 
fastening something to their feet — not skates, certainly, 
but clumsy pieces of wood narrowed and smoothed at 
their lower edge, and pierced with holes, through which 
were threaded strings of rawhide.

1 thinly clad — (разг.) бедно одетые
2 Mynheer — (голл.) господин

HANS BRINKER, OR THE SILVER SKATES

6

These queer-looking affairs had been made by the 
boy Hans. His mother was a poor peasant woman, too 
poor even to think of such a thing as buying skates for 
her little ones. Rough as these were, they had afforded 
the children many a happy hour upon the ice. And now, 
as with cold, red fingers our young Hollanders tugged 
at the strings — their solemn faces bending closely over 
their knees — no vision of impossible iron runners came 
to dull the satisfac tion glowing within.
In a moment the boy arose and, with a pompous swing 
of the arms and a careless “Come on, Gretel,” glided easily 
across the canal.
“Ah, Hans,” called his sister plaintively, “this foot is not 
well yet. The strings hurt me on last market day, and now 
I cannot bear them tied in the same place.”
“Tie them higher up, then,” answered Hans, as without 
looking at her he performed a wonderful cat’s cradle step 
on the ice1.
“How can I? The string is too short.”
Giving vent to a good-natured Dutch whistle, the 
English of which was2 that girls were troublesome 
creatures, he steered toward her.
“You are foolish to wear such shoes, Gretel, when you 
have a stout leather pair. Your klompen3 would be better 
than these.”

1 cat’s cradle step on the ice — (разг.) «восьмерки» на льду
2 the English of which was — (разг.) что в переводе 
означало
3 klompen — (голл.) деревянные башмаки (примеч. авт.) 

Hans and Gretel

7

“Why, Hans! Do you forget? The father threw my 
beautiful new shoes in the fire. Before I knew what he 
had done, they were all curled up in the midst o the 
burning peat. I can skate with these, but not with my 
wooden ones. Be careful now — ”
Hans had taken a string from his pocket. Humming 
a tune as he knelt beside her, he proceeded to fasten 
Gretel’s skate with all the force of his strong young arm.
“Oh! oh!” she cried in real pain.
With an impatient jerk Hans unwound the string. He 
would have cast it on the ground in true big-brother style, 
had he not just then spied a tear1 trickling down his sister’s 
cheek.
“I’ll fix it — never fear,” he said with sudden tenderness, 
“but we must be quick. The mother will need us soon.”
Then he glanced inquiringly about him, first at the 
ground, next at some bare willow branches above his 
head, and finally at the sky, now gorgeous with streaks of 
blue, crimson, and gold.
Finding nothing in any of these localities to meet his 
need, his eye suddenly brightened as, with the air of a 
fellow who knew what he was about, he took off his cap 
and, removing the tattered lining, adjusted it in a smooth 
pad over the top of Gretel’s worn-out shoe.
“Now,” he cried triumphantly, at the same time arranging the strings as briskly as his benumbed fingers would 
allow, “can you bear some pulling?”

1 had he not just then spied a tear — (разг.) если бы в 
тот момент не увидел слезу

HANS BRINKER, OR THE SILVER SKATES

8

Gretel drew up her lips as if to say, “Hurt away,” but 
made no further response.
In another moment they were all laughing together, 
as hand in hand they flew along the canal, never thinking 
whether the ice would bear them or not, for in Holland 
ice is generally an all-winter affair1. It settles itself upon 
the water in a determined kind of way, and so far from 
growing thin and uncertain every time the sun is a little 
severe upon it, it gathers its forces day by day and flashes 
defiance to every beam.
Presently, squeak! squeak! sounded something 
beneath Hans’ feet. Next his strokes grew shorter, ending 
oftimes with a jerk, and finally, he lay sprawling upon 
the ice, kicking against the air with many a fantastic 
flourish.
“Ha! ha!” laughed Gretel. “That was a fine tumble!” 
But a tender heart was beating under her coarse blue 
jacket, and even as she laughed, she came, with a graceful 
sweep, close to her prostrate brother.
“Are you hurt, Hans? Oh, you are laughing! Catch me 
now!” And she darted away, shivering no longer, but with 
cheeks all aglow and eyes sparkling with fun.
Hans sprang to his feet and started in brisk pursuit, 
but it was no easy thing to catch Gretel. Before she had 
traveled very far, her skates, too, began to squeak.
Believing that discretion was the better part of valor, 
she turned suddenly and skated into her pursuer’s arms.

1 is generally an all-winter affair — (разг.) обычно стоит (держится) всю зиму

Hans and Gretel

9

“Ha! ha! I’ve caught you!” cried Hans.
“Ha! ha! I caught YOU,” she retorted, struggling to 
free herself.
Just then a clear, quick voice was heard calling, “Hans! 
Gretel!”
“It’s the mother,” said Hans, looking solemn in an 
instant.
By this time the canal was gilded with sunlight. The 
pure morning air was very delightful, and skaters were 
gradually increasing in numbers. It was hard to obey the 
summons. But Gretel and Hans were good children; 
without a thought of yielding to the temptation to linger, 
they pulled off their skates, leaving half the knots still tied. 
Hans, with his great square shoulders and bushy yellow 
hair, towered high above his blue-eyed little sister as they 
trudged homeward. He was fifteen years old and Gretel 
was only twelve. He was a solid, hearty-looking boy, with 
honest eyes and a brow that seemed to bear a sign 
GOODNESS WITHIN just as the little Dutch zomerhuis1 
wears a motto over its portal. Gretel was lithe and quick; 
her eyes had a dancing light in them, and while you looked 
at her cheek the color paled and deepened just as it does 
upon a bed of pink and white blossoms when the wind 
is blowing.
As soon as the children turned from the canal, they 
could see their parents’ cottage. Their mother’s tall form, 

1 zomerhuis — (голл.) летний домик; павильон, в котором летом отдыхают, но не живут (примеч. авт.) 

HANS BRINKER, OR THE SILVER SKATES

10

arrayed in jacket and petticoat and close-fitting cap, stood, 
like a picture, in the crooked frame of the doorway. Had 
the cottage been a mile away, it would still have seemed 
near. In that flat country every object stands out plainly 
in the distance; the chickens show as distinctly as the 
windmills. Indeed, were it not for the dikes and the high 
banks of the canals, one could stand almost anywhere in 
middle Holland without seeing a mound or a ridge 
between the eye and the “jumping-off place.”
None had better cause to know the nature of these 
same dikes than Dame1 Brinker and the panting youngsters now running at her call. But before stating WHY, 
let me ask you to take a rocking-chair trip2 with me to 
that far country where you may see, perhaps for the first 
time, some curious things that Hans and Gretel saw 
every day.

Holland

Holland is one of the queerest countries under the 
sun. It should be called Odd-land or Contrary-land, for 
in nearly everything it is different from the other parts of 
the world. In the first place, a large portion of the country 
is lower than the level of the sea. Great dikes, or bulwarks, 

1 Dame — (голл.) тетушка
2 to take a rocking-chair trip — (разг.) мысленно перенестись