The Secret Garden / Таинственный сад

She stood at the window for about ten minutes thinking over the new idea which had come to her when she heard of the library. But to hear of it brought back to her mind the hundred rooms with closed doors. She wondered if they were all really locked and what she would find if she could get into any of them.

She opened the door of the room and went into the corridor, and then she began her wanderings. It was a long corridor and it branched into other corridors and it led her up short flights of steps which mounted to others again.

There were doors and doors, and there were pictures on the walls. Sometimes they were pictures of dark, curious landscapes, but oftenest they were portraits of men and women in queer, grand costumes made of satin and velvet. She found herself in one long gallery whose walls were covered with these portraits. She had never thought there could be so many in any house. She walked slowly down this place and stared at the faces which also seemed to stare at her. She felt as if they were wondering what a little girl from India was doing in their house. Some were pictures of children-little girls in thick satin frocks [67 - frock – детское платье] which reached to their feet and stood out about them, and boys with puffed sleeves and lace collars and long hair, or with big ruffs [68 - ruff – брыжи, рюш] around their necks. She always stopped to look at the children, and wonder what their names were, and where they had gone, and why they wore such odd clothes. There was a stiff, plain little girl rather like herself. She wore a green brocade dress [69 - brocade dress – платье из парчи] and held a green parrot on her finger. Her eyes had a sharp, curious look.

It seemed as if there was no one in all the huge house but herself, wandering about upstairs and down. Since so many rooms had been built, people must have lived in them, but it all seemed so empty that she could not quite believe it true. It was not until she climbed to the second floor.

All the doors were shut, but at last she put her hand on the handle of one of them and turned it. It was a massive door and opened into a big bedroom. There were embroidered hangings on the wall and inlaid furniture. A broad window with leaded panes looked out upon the moor; and over the mantel was another portrait of the stiff, plain little girl who seemed to stare at her more curiously than ever. After that she opened more doors and more.