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https://w.atwiki.jp/gtavi_gta6/pages/922.html
Noodle Exchange 概要 解説 店舗、外見など 概要 日本語:ヌードル・エクスチェンジ 業種: 所在地:各地 解説 GTASAから登場しているヌードルの会社。替え玉という意味だが、「Needle Exchange(注射針交換プログラム)(*1)」を掛けたもの。 GTASAでは屋台として登場。サンフィエロに3ヵ所、ラスベンチュラスに1ヵ所。特にチャイナタウンの裏路地では無駄に5つも並んでいた。 GTAIVではスタージャンクションにカップ麺の巨大広告(モデルはこちら )が登場。モデルはカップヌードルで有名な日本のメーカー「日清食品」。 そして今作では店舗を営業している。 ちなみにこの会社とは関係ないかもしれないが「Noodles Chicken」や「Noodles Seafood」というカップ麺が24/7などで販売されている。 そのカップ麺には日本語で「ラーメン」と書かれている。 店舗、外見など Mission Row / Legion Square ベスプッチ運河店 ベスプッチ - ベスプッチ運河 - ベイシティーアベニュー沿い。 ロックフォードヒルズ店 ロックフォードヒルズ - デルペロ大通り沿い。
https://w.atwiki.jp/iryuu/pages/34.html
ごくせんには 及ばない 初回の視聴率ではこう 報じられました。 しかし、 2回 3回と重ねるにつれ わずかながら ごくせんの視聴率を上回ってきています。 (朝日新聞 関西調べ) これは 当初CHANGEの宣伝効果が少なかったことが原因でしょう。 あれ?もう始まってたの? 私の周りにこういう人は結構いますw とはいうものの 最近では TVのコメンテーターや次期総理とうわさされる麻生さん(も言ったみたい?) 政治家の話題に絡めて CHANGE チェンジ のキーワードを出す人も少なくなく 製作者側の狙い通り 政界の混乱とともに 今後も注目されるドラマとなりそうで 今後の視聴率にも期待できます。 参考 因みに第一話の瞬間視聴率最高場面は、小学校教師・朝倉啓太が、衆院補欠選挙に 当選して大歓声を上げたシーンで26.6%だそうです。デーリースポーツ記事。 b 参考 /b キムタク ドラマ CHANGE(チェンジ) 第一話 視聴率 23.8 CHANGE(チェンジ) 第二話 視聴率 23.0 最終回は27パーセントと 最高の記録をマークした。 となっている。
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Tracking Control Panel トラッキングコントロールパネル トラッカー・パネルは、トラッカー・ビュー・エリアが異なるサイズとわずかに異なるボタン位置の2つのバリエーションがあります。 広いバージョンは、特に高解像度ディスプレイでパネルの内部のより良いビューを与えます。 小さなバージョンは、マウス・モーションを減らすよりコンパクトなレイアウトで、減少したサイズのため、ラップトップで使用によりよいです。 Tracker Interior View. Shows its interior---the inner box of the tracker.Left Mouse Drag the tracker location.Middle Scroll Advance the current frame, tracking as you go.Right Mouse Add or remove a position key at the current frame. Or, cancel a drag in progress. Create. 作成 ONになっている間、がカメラビュー画面でクリックすると新規のトラッカーを作成します。 Delete. トラッカーの削除 Finish. Button. Brings up the finalize dialog box, allowing final filtering and gap filtering as a tracker is locked down. トラッカーがロックされるようにファイナル・フィルタリングとギャップ・フィルタリングを与える、確定ダイアログ・ボックス finalize dialog boxを起動します。 Lock. トラッカーをロックします。トラッカーが完全になったらONしてください Tracker Type.,,,. Button. Toggles the tracker type among normal match-mode, dark spot, bright spot, or symmetric spot. Direction. トラッキング方向。再度押下して矢印を逆にすると逆再生でのトラッキングになります。再生方向も連動して逆になります。 Enable. トラッカーのアニメーションコントロールのONOFFです。何かでブロックされた場合はOFFにしてください。再度トラッキングポイントが見えたらONにしてください。 Contrast. トラッカービューウインドウのコントラスト調整です。トラッカービューウインドウの右にある番号のないスピナーです。Bright. トラッカービューウインドウのブライトネス調整です。トラッカービューウインドウの右にある番号のないスピナーです。 Color. デフォルトが緑の四角は、トラッカーの色を設定します。 Now. 今のフレームにキーを加えます。加えられたキーはタイムバー上に黒い線で現れます。右クリックでキーを削除します。Shift+右クリックでNOWボタンを押すと、そのフレームから後ろの全キーが削除されます。 (訳者注)トラッカー1つだけトラッキングデータを削除したいような場合に、NOWボタン上での右クリックで削除になります。 重要なのにものすごくわかりにくいインタフェースです。。。。 Key. SynthEyesに何フレーム毎に自動的にキーを加えさせるか設定できます。通常8程度です。 Key Smooth. トラッカーのパスがスムーズになるようにキーの前でこのフレーム分だけプリロールさせます。 (訳者注)トラックメニューでStop on auto-key(キー値で停止)と Preroll by Key Smooth(Keyスムーズによるプリロール) の2つにチェックが入っていないと、スペースキーで自動再生し、この値のフレーム毎に自動停止してKeyを加える操作はできません。 また、すでにそのトラッカーがキーを持っていたら自動停止しません。 Name. トラッカーに名前を付けます。 Pos. H and V spinners. Tracker s horizontal and vertical position, from –1 to +1. You can delete a key (border is red) by right-clicking. Shift-right-clicking will truncate the tracker after this frame. Size.サイズと面スピナー。トラッカーの内部の部分のサイズと縦横比(水平垂直サイズによって分けられる)。Search.HとVスピナー。SynthEyesが前のフレームでその位置のまわりでトラッカーを求めて捜す領域(実際の内部を除外する)の水平・垂直サイズ。先読みするとは、前のトラッキングのためにlower-numberedされて、後ろのトラッキングのためにhigher-numberedすることを意味します。 (訳者注)トラッカーの内側の四角がトラッカーそのもので、外側の四角が次フレームのサーチ範囲です。 Weight. Spinner. Defaults to 1.0. Multiplier that helps determine the weight given to the 2-D data for each frame from this tracker. Higher values cause a closer match, lower values allow a sloppier match.WARNING This control is for experts and should be used judiciously and infrequently. It is easy to use it to mathematically destabilize the solving process, so that you will not get a valid solution at all. Keep near 1. Also see ZWTs below. Exact. For use after a scene has already been solved set the tracker s 2-D position to the exact re-projected location of the tracker s 3-D position. A quick fix for spurious or missing data points, do not overuse. See the section onfiltering and filling gaps. Note applied to a zero-weighted-tracker, error will not become zero because the ZWT will re-calculate using the new 2-D position, yielding a different 3-D and then 2-D position. すでに解析済みのシーンのために後で使用します: トラッカーの2次元の位置をトラッカーの3Dの位置の正確な(exact)再計画された位置にセットしてください。 いい加減であるか失ったデータのための応急処置です、濫用をしないでください。 フィルタリングされて、隙間を埋めることに、部分を見てください。 注:ゼロ加重のトラッカーに適用されて、ZWTが新しい2次元の位置を使うことを再計算するので、エラーはゼロになりません。そして、異なる3Dでそれから2次元の位置を与えます。 F n.nnnhpix.(display field, right of Exact button) Shows the distance, in horizontal pixels, between the 2-D tracker location and the re-projected 3-D tracker location. Valid only if the tracker has been solved. ZWT. When on, the tracker s weight is internally set to zero—it is a zero-weighted-tracker (ZWT), which does not affect the camera or object s path at all. As a consequence, its 3-D position can be continually calculated as you update the 2-D track or change the camera or object path, or field of view. The Weight spinner of a ZWT will be disabled, because the weight is internally forced to zero and special processing engaged. The grayed-out displayed value will be the original weight, which will be restored if ZWT mode is turned off. T n.nnnhpix.(display field, right of ZWT button) Shows the total error, in horizontal pixels, for the solved tracker. This is the same error as from the Coordinate System panel. It updates dynamically during tracking of a zero-weighted tracker.
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darcs version 2.0.0 (2.0.0 (+ 19 patches)) Usage darcs changes [OPTION]... [FILE or DIRECTORY]... Gives a changelog-style summary of the repository history. Options --to-match=PATTERN select changes up to a patch matching PATTERN --to-patch=REGEXP select changes up to a patch matching REGEXP --to-tag=REGEXP select changes up to a tag matching REGEXP --from-match=PATTERN select changes starting with a patch matching PATTERN --from-patch=REGEXP select changes starting with a patch matching REGEXP --from-tag=REGEXP select changes starting with a tag matching REGEXP --last=NUMBER select the last NUMBER patches --matches=PATTERN select patches matching PATTERN -p REGEXP --patches=REGEXP select patches matching REGEXP -t REGEXP --tags=REGEXP select tags matching REGEXP --only-to-files show only changes to specified files --context give output suitable for get --context --xml-output generate XML formatted output --human-readable give human-readable output --count output count of changes -s --summary summarize changes --no-summary don t summarize changes --reverse show changes in reverse order --repo=URL specify the repository URL --repodir=DIRECTORY specify the repository directory in which to run -a --all answer yes to all patches -i --interactive prompt user interactively --disable disable this command -h --help shows brief description of command and its arguments Advanced options --debug give only debug output --debug-verbose give debug and verbose output -v --verbose give verbose output -q --quiet suppress informational output --standard-verbosity neither verbose nor quiet output --timings provide debugging timings information --no-ssh-cm don t use SSH ControlMaster feature [DEFAULT] --ssh-cm use SSH ControlMaster feature --posthook=COMMAND specify command to run after this darcs command --no-posthook don t run posthook command --prompt-posthook prompt before running posthook [DEFAULT] --run-posthook run posthook command without prompting --prehook=COMMAND specify command to run before this darcs command --no-prehook don t run prehook command --prompt-prehook prompt before running prehook [DEFAULT] --run-prehook run prehook command without prompting Changes gives a changelog-style summary of the repository history, including options for altering how the patches are selected and displayed.
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CHAPTER XXVII UP CHAPTER XXIX CHAPTER XXVIII An Unfortunate Lily Maid "OF course you must be Elaine, Anne," said Diana. "I could never have the courage to float down there." "Nor I," said Ruby Gillis, with a shiver. "I don t mind floating down when there s two or three of us in the flat and we can sit up. It s fun then. But to lie down and pretend I was dead--I just couldn t. I d die really of fright." "Of course it would be romantic," conceded Jane Andrews, "but I know I couldn t keep still. I d be popping up every minute or so to see where I was and if I wasn t drifting too far out. And you know, Anne, that would spoil the effect." "But it s so ridiculous to have a redheaded Elaine," mourned Anne. "I m not afraid to float down and I d love to be Elaine. But it s ridiculous just the same. Ruby ought to be Elaine because she is so fair and has such lovely long golden hair-- Elaine had `all her bright hair streaming down, you know. And Elaine was the lily maid. Now, a red-haired person cannot be a lily maid." "Your complexion is just as fair as Ruby s," said Diana earnestly, "and your hair is ever so much darker than it used to be before you cut it." "Oh, do you really think so?" exclaimed Anne, flushing sensitively with delight. "I ve sometimes thought it was myself--but I never dared to ask anyone for fear she would tell me it wasn t. Do you think it could be called auburn now, Diana?" "Yes, and I think it is real pretty," said Diana, looking admiringly at the short, silky curls that clustered over Anne s head and were held in place by a very jaunty black velvet ribbon and bow. They were standing on the bank of the pond, below Orchard Slope, where a little headland fringed with birches ran out from the bank; at its tip was a small wooden platform built out into the water for the convenience of fishermen and duck hunters. Ruby and Jane were spending the midsummer afternoon with Diana, and Anne had come over to play with them. Anne and Diana had spent most of their playtime that summer on and about the pond. Idlewild was a thing of the past, Mr. Bell having ruthlessly cut down the little circle of trees in his back pasture in the spring. Anne had sat among the stumps and wept, not without an eye to the romance of it; but she was speedily consoled, for, after all, as she and Diana said, big girls of thirteen, going on fourteen, were too old for such childish amusements as playhouses, and there were more fascinating sports to be found about the pond. It was splendid to fish for trout over the bridge and the two girls learned to row themselves about in the little flat-bottomed dory Mr. Barry kept for duck shooting. It was Anne s idea that they dramatize Elaine. They had studied Tennyson s poem in school the preceding winter, the Superintendent of Education having prescribed it in the English course for the Prince Edward Island schools. They had analyzed and parsed it and torn it to pieces in general until it was a wonder there was any meaning at all left in it for them, but at least the fair lily maid and Lancelot and Guinevere and King Arthur had become very real people to them, and Anne was devoured by secret regret that she had not been born in Camelot. Those days, she said, were so much more romantic than the present. Anne s plan was hailed with enthusiasm. The girls had discovered that if the flat were pushed off from the landing place it would drift down with the current under the bridge and finally strand itself on another headland lower down which ran out at a curve in the pond. They had often gone down like this and nothing could be more convenient for playing Elaine. "Well, I ll be Elaine," said Anne, yielding reluctantly, for, although she would have been delighted to play the principal character, yet her artistic sense demanded fitness for it and this, she felt, her limitations made impossible. "Ruby, you must be King Arthur and Jane will be Guinevere and Diana must be Lancelot. But first you must be the brothers and the father. We can t have the old dumb servitor because there isn t room for two in the flat when one is lying down. We must pall the barge all its length in blackest samite. That old black shawl of your mother s will be just the thing, Diana." The black shawl having been procured, Anne spread it over the flat and then lay down on the bottom, with closed eyes and hands folded over her breast. "Oh, she does look really dead," whispered Ruby Gillis nervously, watching the still, white little face under the flickering shadows of the birches. "It makes me feel frightened, girls. Do you suppose it s really right to act like this? Mrs. Lynde says that all play-acting is abominably wicked." "Ruby, you shouldn t talk about Mrs. Lynde," said Anne severely. "It spoils the effect because this is hundreds of years before Mrs. Lynde was born. Jane, you arrange this. It s silly for Elaine to be talking when she s dead." Jane rose to the occasion. Cloth of gold for coverlet there was none, but an old piano scarf of yellow Japanese crepe was an excellent substitute. A white lily was not obtainable just then, but the effect of a tall blue iris placed in one of Anne s folded hands was all that could be desired. "Now, she s all ready," said Jane. "We must kiss her quiet brows and, Diana, you say, `Sister, farewell forever, and Ruby, you say, `Farewell, sweet sister, both of you as sorrowfully as you possibly can. Anne, for goodness sake smile a little. You know Elaine `lay as though she smiled. That s better. Now push the flat off." The flat was accordingly pushed off, scraping roughly over an old embedded stake in the process. Diana and Jane and Ruby only waited long enough to see it caught in the current and headed for the bridge before scampering up through the woods, across the road, and down to the lower headland where, as Lancelot and Guinevere and the King, they were to be in readiness to receive the lily maid. For a few minutes Anne, drifting slowly down, enjoyed the romance of her situation to the full. Then something happened not at all romantic. The flat began to leak. In a very few moments it was necessary for Elaine to scramble to her feet, pick up her cloth of gold coverlet and pall of blackest samite and gaze blankly at a big crack in the bottom of her barge through which the water was literally pouring. That sharp stake at the landing had torn off the strip of batting nailed on the flat. Anne did not know this, but it did not take her long to realize that she was in a dangerous plight. At this rate the flat would fill and sink long before it could drift to the lower headland. Where were the oars? Left behind at the landing! Anne gave one gasping little scream which nobody ever heard; she was white to the lips, but she did not lose her self-possession. There was one chance--just one. "I was horribly frightened," she told Mrs. Allan the next day, "and it seemed like years while the flat was drifting down to the bridge and the water rising in it every moment. I prayed, Mrs. Allan, most earnestly, but I didn t shut my eyes to pray, for I knew the only way God could save me was to let the flat float close enough to one of the bridge piles for me to climb up on it. You know the piles are just old tree trunks and there are lots of knots and old branch stubs on them. It was proper to pray, but I had to do my part by watching out and right well I knew it. I just said, `Dear God, please take the flat close to a pile and I ll do the rest, over and over again. Under such circumstances you don t think much about making a flowery prayer. But mine was answered, for the flat bumped right into a pile for a minute and I flung the scarf and the shawl over my shoulder and scrambled up on a big providential stub. And there I was, Mrs. Allan, clinging to that slippery old pile with no way of getting up or down. It was a very unromantic position, but I didn t think about that at the time. You don t think much about romance when you have just escaped from a watery grave. I said a grateful prayer at once and then I gave all my attention to holding on tight, for I knew I should probably have to depend on human aid to get back to dry land." The flat drifted under the bridge and then promptly sank in midstream. Ruby, Jane, and Diana, already awaiting it on the lower headland, saw it disappear before their very eyes and had not a doubt but that Anne had gone down with it. For a moment they stood still, white as sheets, frozen with horror at the tragedy; then, shrieking at the tops of their voices, they started on a frantic run up through the woods, never pausing as they crossed the main road to glance the way of the bridge. Anne, clinging desperately to her precarious foothold, saw their flying forms and heard their shrieks. Help would soon come, but meanwhile her position was a very uncomfortable one. The minutes passed by, each seeming an hour to the unfortunate lily maid. Why didn t somebody come? Where had the girls gone? Suppose they had fainted, one and all! Suppose nobody ever came! Suppose she grew so tired and cramped that she could hold on no longer! Anne looked at the wicked green depths below her, wavering with long, oily shadows, and shivered. Her imagination began to suggest all manner of gruesome possibilities to her. Then, just as she thought she really could not endure the ache in her arms and wrists another moment, Gilbert Blythe came rowing under the bridge in Harmon Andrews s dory! Gilbert glanced up and, much to his amazement, beheld a little white scornful face looking down upon him with big, frightened but also scornful gray eyes. "Anne Shirley! How on earth did you get there?" he exclaimed. Without waiting for an answer he pulled close to the pile and extended his hand. There was no help for it; Anne, clinging to Gilbert Blythe s hand, scrambled down into the dory, where she sat, drabbled and furious, in the stern with her arms full of dripping shawl and wet crepe. It was certainly extremely difficult to be dignified under the circumstances! "What has happened, Anne?" asked Gilbert, taking up his oars. "We were playing Elaine" explained Anne frigidly, without even looking at her rescuer, "and I had to drift down to Camelot in the barge--I mean the flat. The flat began to leak and I climbed out on the pile. The girls went for help. Will you be kind enough to row me to the landing?" Gilbert obligingly rowed to the landing and Anne, disdaining assistance, sprang nimbly on shore. "I m very much obliged to you," she said haughtily as she turned away. But Gilbert had also sprung from the boat and now laid a detaining hand on her arm. "Anne," he said hurriedly, "look here. Can t we be good friends? I m awfully sorry I made fun of your hair that time. I didn t mean to vex you and I only meant it for a joke. Besides, it s so long ago. I think your hair is awfully pretty now--honest I do. Let s be friends." For a moment Anne hesitated. She had an odd, newly awakened consciousness under all her outraged dignity that the half-shy, half-eager expression in Gilbert s hazel eyes was something that was very good to see. Her heart gave a quick, queer little beat. But the bitterness of her old grievance promptly stiffened up her wavering determination. That scene of two years before flashed back into her recollection as vividly as if it had taken place yesterday. Gilbert had called her "carrots" and had brought about her disgrace before the whole school. Her resentment, which to other and older people might be as laughable as its cause, was in no whit allayed and softened by time seemingly. She hated Gilbert Blythe! She would never forgive him! "No," she said coldly, "I shall never be friends with you, Gilbert Blythe; and I don t want to be!" "All right!" Gilbert sprang into his skiff with an angry color in his cheeks. "I ll never ask you to be friends again, Anne Shirley. And I don t care either!" He pulled away with swift defiant strokes, and Anne went up the steep, ferny little path under the maples. She held her head very high, but she was conscious of an odd feeling of regret. She almost wished she had answered Gilbert differently. Of course, he had insulted her terribly, but still--! Altogether, Anne rather thought it would be a relief to sit down and have a good cry. She was really quite unstrung, for the reaction from her fright and cramped clinging was making itself felt. Halfway up the path she met Jane and Diana rushing back to the pond in a state narrowly removed from positive frenzy. They had found nobody at Orchard Slope, both Mr. and Mrs. Barry being away. Here Ruby Gillis had succumbed to hysterics, and was left to recover from them as best she might, while Jane and Diana flew through the Haunted Wood and across the brook to Green Gables. There they had found nobody either, for Marilla had gone to Carmody and Matthew was making hay in the back field. "Oh, Anne," gasped Diana, fairly falling on the former s neck and weeping with relief and delight, "oh, Anne--we thought--you were--drowned--and we felt like murderers--because we had made--you be--Elaine. And Ruby is in hysterics--oh, Anne, how did you escape?" "I climbed up on one of the piles," explained Anne wearily, "and Gilbert Blythe came along in Mr. Andrews s dory and brought me to land." "Oh, Anne, how splendid of him! Why, it s so romantic!" said Jane, finding breath enough for utterance at last. "Of course you ll speak to him after this." "Of course I won t," flashed Anne, with a momentary return of her old spirit. "And I don t want ever to hear the word `romantic again, Jane Andrews. I m awfully sorry you were so frightened, girls. It is all my fault. I feel sure I was born under an unlucky star. Everything I do gets me or my dearest friends into a scrape. We ve gone and lost your father s flat, Diana, and I have a presentiment that we ll not be allowed to row on the pond any more." Anne s presentiment proved more trustworthy than presentiments are apt to do. Great was the consternation in the Barry and Cuthbert households when the events of the afternoon became known. "Will you ever have any sense, Anne?" groaned Marilla. "Oh, yes, I think I will, Marilla," returned Anne optimistically. A good cry, indulged in the grateful solitude of the east gable, had soothed her nerves and restored her to her wonted cheerfulness. "I think my prospects of becoming sensible are brighter now than ever." "I don t see how," said Marilla. "Well," explained Anne, "I ve learned a new and valuable lesson today. Ever since I came to Green Gables I ve been making mistakes, and each mistake has helped to cure me of some great shortcoming. The affair of the amethyst brooch cured me of meddling with things that didn t belong to me. The Haunted Wood mistake cured me of letting my imagination run away with me. The liniment cake mistake cured me of carelessness in cooking. Dyeing my hair cured me of vanity. I never think about my hair and nose now--at least, very seldom. And today s mistake is going to cure me of being too romantic. I have come to the conclusion that it is no use trying to be romantic in Avonlea. It was probably easy enough in towered Camelot hundreds of years ago, but romance is not appreciated now. I feel quite sure that you will soon see a great improvement in me in this respect, Marilla." "I m sure I hope so," said Marilla skeptically. But Matthew, who had been sitting mutely in his corner, laid a hand on Anne s shoulder when Marilla had gone out. "Don t give up all your romance, Anne," he whispered shyly, "a little of it is a good thing--not too much, of course--but keep a little of it, Anne, keep a little of it." CHAPTER XXVII UP CHAPTER XXIX 今日 - | 昨日 - | Total - since 05 June 2007 last update 2007-06-05 01 19 22 (Tue)
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元ページリンク 必要条件 Base Level 無し Job Level 40 Class Acolyte アイテム Varies (下記テーブル参照) 報酬 アイテム Waghnak [3] または Knuckle Duster [3] クエスト報酬 Monk への転職 1. Prontera× から東→北→東→東にある Monk Abbey (prt_monk) を訪れる Monk Abbey へ行くには他に以下の方法がある(*1) Prontera 北西にある教会 (prontera 234, 314) へ行って右側の部屋に入り、Priest Praupin と話して 最初の選択肢で "What should I do?" を選び、次で "Go to the convent." を選ぶ 2. Guarding Monk (58,247) と話すと Sensei Moohae (245,104) の所へ行けと言われる 転職条件を満たしているなら Sensei Moohae から最初の試験としてアイテム収集を命じられる 3. 上記で Sensei Moohae に集めるよう言われるアイテム群は以下の内から1セット Set Items Set 1 Cyfar 5個, Yellow Herb 10個, White Herb 10個 Set 2 Solid Shell 5個, Shell 20個, Zargon 5個 Set 3 Porcupine Quill 5個, Bug Leg 10個, Cobweb 20個 Set 4 Sticky Mucus 5個, Earthworm Peeling 10個, Green Herb 20個 Set 5 Tooth of Bat 10個, Bear Footskin 5個, Poison Spore 20個 Set 6 Stem 30個, Jellopy 5個, Worm Peeling (*2)10個 Set 7 Yoyo Tail 20個, Iron Ore 5個, Blue Herb 3個 4. アイテムを集め終えて Sensei Moohae の所へ戻ると、マップ右上エリア (prt_monk 251, 255) にいる 記憶力試験担当の Elder Touha の所へ行けと言われる 5. Elder Touha は以下の文章の内から1つを覚えるように言う(*3) And sheperds we shall be, |for thee my lord for thee.|Power path(*4)decended forth |from the hand |so our feet may swiftly carry |out thy command and we shall |flow a river forth thee and |teeming with souls shall it ever be.|In nomine Patris, et Filii |et Spiritus Sancti. I seek the path |of enlightenment.|We monks |shall hold true |to what we believe |and will help protect others |through the teachings |we learn through our lives.|In nomine Patris, et Filii |et Spiritus Sancti. I commit myself to |veritas and aequitas.|I will follow my path |to enlightenment and purity.|I will protect my |brothers with(*5)life.|Evil shall never be |victorious while I breathe.|In nomine Patris, et Filii |et Spiritus Sancti. 彼女はプレイヤーに暗唱を始めさせる前に、課題文を通して読み上げる 暗唱はトチっても特にペナルティは無く、すぐに何度でもやり直せる 合格するとマップ左下の方 (prt_monk 57, 179) にいる Boohae の所へ行くように言われる 6. Boohae はMarathon と Mushroom collecting の2種類の試験からどちらかを選べと言う (AGI ステータスが低かったり Concentration Potion の手持ちが無かったりといった場合でもなければMarathon を選ぶ理由は特に無い) 不合格になって Boohae の前に戻された場合、必要なら課題を変更する事も出来る Boohaeとの問答 Touha sent me → We recited~ → he modified~ → 科目選択 iRO wiki の画像表示 図の左側 ステップ7aの落とし穴付きマラソンコース 図の右側 ステップ8の迷路。1~3の内どれか1つがランダムで割り当てられる 7a. "Marathon" を選ぶ場合 寺院の門番 (prt_monk 192,170) と話して(*6)から中に入って Bashu の所へ行き、選択肢で "Marathon" を選ぶと別のマップへ転送される 上図左にあるようなマップを、落とし穴を避けながら試験完了まで何度も (=10周) 周回する(*7) コースは輪のように一続きになっており、所々プレイヤーキャラが落ちるように穴が開いている この試験では(Ctrl と Shift を同時に押しながらマウスホイールを上に回して)カメラアングルを低い視点にすると 遠くの穴まで見付け易くなってクリアの助けになる 試験中にサーバーとの接続が切れた場合、セーブ地点に戻されてしまうので注意 必要周回数を走り終えて合格すると自動的にコースマップ外へ転送される 尚、この試験は Increase Agility× を常用しても完走までに約30分かかる NOTE この試験は無闇に長ったらしく退屈なだけなので、前述の通り AGI が低かったりConcentration Potion を買う Zeny が無かったりするワケもでない限り受けない方がいい 合格したらステップ8へ進む 7b. (*8)"Collect Mushrooms" を選ぶ場合 別のマップへ転送され、そこで2種類のキノコ (Orange Gooey Mushroom と Orange Net Mushroom) を採る事になる NPC はどちらか一方のキノコが30個集まるまで合格とは言わない(*9) また、試験場には Thief Bug が何匹もいるが、コイツ等はドロップされたキノコを奪い取ってしまう上に それを取り戻そうと思って攻撃すると、周りにいる他の Thief Bug 達までが襲い掛かって来る 自キャラが弱くてキツいかも知れないが (運営の言い分では?) レベル的にバランス調整はこれで充分という事らしい (仕様変更以前に) Thief 転職試験×で集めたキノコを使い回す事も可能(*10) 受験する Acolyte の AGI が高く補助スキルも掛かっていればクリアはより楽になる筈だ ASPD が最速になるので試験中は武器を装備せず素手の状態にしておくといいだろう (武器でも素手でもキノコには1しかダメージを与えられない為) 8. 寺院 (prt_monk 192, 170) の奥にある部屋の、十字架型の窪みの所にいる Tomoon を見付けて話すと 見えない壁で出来た迷路へ転送される(*11)(*12)(*13) この試験中は Zombie や Mummy といったモンスターが何体も涌くので注意(*14) 目前で涌いたそれら多数のモンスターは一度に相手するべきではない(*15)が、迷路に阻まれて逃げようが無い事も 念頭に置いておく事 マップ中のどの部分が通行可能かはカーソルを当てればチェック出来る 歩く事の出来る所はカーソルを当てると緑色の枠が表示され、そうでなければ枠は出ない 出口の所から順に壁に突き当たるまで直線にカーソルを滑らせて道を辿っていき 分岐があったらセンターラインまで続く方を選ぶ かなり面倒で忍耐が必要だ(*16) この試験中もサーバーとの接続が切れるとセーブ地点に戻される 9. 迷路を脱け出したら(*17)Tomoon と話し、そこでもらう Green Potion を飲む(*18) その後 Moohae の所へ戻ると長い説法を聞かされた後で Monk に転職出来、お祝いとして Acolyte の Job レベルが50なら Knuckle Duster [3] を、それ未満なら Waghnak [3] をもらえる Moohaeとの問答 yes → no → yes → yes → no → no → yes → I vow to~ -Monk ・ Champion ・ Sura Monk ・ Champion ・ Sura 2nd ClassSkills Excruciating Palm× ・ Flee (Skill)× ・ Fury× ・ Guillotine Fist× ・ Iron Fists× ・ Mental Strength× ・ Occult Impaction× ・ Raging Quadruple Blow× ・ Raging Thrust× ・ Raging Trifecta Blow× ・ Root× ・ Snap× ・ Spiritual Bestowment× ・ Spiritual Cadence× ・ Spiritual Sphere Absorption× ・ Summon Spirit Sphere× (Spirit Sphere×) ・ Throw Spirit Sphere× TranscendentSkills Chain Crush Combo× ・ Glacier Fist× ・ Raging Palm Strike× ・ Zen× 3rd ClassSkills Crescent Elbow× ・ Cursed Circle× ・ Dragon Combo× ・ Earth Shaker× ・ Fallen Empire× ・ Gentle Touch-Convert× ・ Gentle Touch-Cure× ・ Gentle Touch-Energy Gain× ・ Gentle Touch-Revitalize× ・ Gentle Touch-Silence× ・ Hell Gate× ・ Lightning Walk× ・ Lightning Ride× ・ Lion Howling× ・ Knuckle Arrow× ・ Power Absorb× ・ Power Implantation× ・ Rampage Blaster× ・ Rising Dragon× ・ Sky Blow× ・ Tiger Cannon× ・ Windmill× Quests Monk Job Change Guide ・ Monk Skill Quest ・ Rebirth Walkthrough ・ Sura Job Change Guide Weapons× Mace× ・ Knuckle× Categories Quest Window Quests | Acolyte | Monk | Job Change Guide
https://w.atwiki.jp/kochan/pages/8.html
(2006年08月19日) はじめて
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CHAPTER XVIII UP CHAPTER XX CHAPTER XIX A Concert a Catastrophe and a Confession "MARILLA, can I go over to see Diana just for a minute?" asked Anne, running breathlessly down from the east gable one February evening. "I don t see what you want to be traipsing about after dark for," said Marilla shortly. "You and Diana walked home from school together and then stood down there in the snow for half an hour more, your tongues going the whole blessed time, clickety-clack. So I don t think you re very badly off to see her again." "But she wants to see me," pleaded Anne. "She has something very important to tell me." "How do you know she has?" "Because she just signaled to me from her window. We have arranged a way to signal with our candles and cardboard. We set the candle on the window sill and make flashes by passing the cardboard back and forth. So many flashes mean a certain thing. It was my idea, Marilla." "I ll warrant you it was," said Marilla emphatically. "And the next thing you ll be setting fire to the curtains with your signaling nonsense." "Oh, we re very careful, Marilla. And it s so interesting. Two flashes mean, `Are you there? Three mean `yes and four `no. Five mean, `Come over as soon as possible, because I have something important to reveal. Diana has just signaled five flashes, and I m really suffering to know what it is." "Well, you needn t suffer any longer," said Marilla sarcastically. "You can go, but you re to be back here in just ten minutes, remember that." Anne did remember it and was back in the stipulated time, although probably no mortal will ever know just what it cost her to confine the discussion of Diana s important communication within the limits of ten minutes. But at least she had made good use of them. "Oh, Marilla, what do you think? You know tomorrow is Diana s birthday. Well, her mother told her she could ask me to go home with her from school and stay all night with her. And her cousins are coming over from Newbridge in a big pung sleigh to go to the Debating Club concert at the hall tomorrow night. And they are going to take Diana and me to the concert--if you ll let me go, that is. You will, won t you, Marilla? Oh, I feel so excited." "You can calm down then, because you re not going. You re better at home in your own bed, and as for that club concert, it s all nonsense, and little girls should not be allowed to go out to such places at all." "I m sure the Debating Club is a most respectable affair," pleaded Anne. "I m not saying it isn t. But you re not going to begin gadding about to concerts and staying out all hours of the night. Pretty doings for children. I m surprised at Mrs. Barry s letting Diana go." "But it s such a very special occasion," mourned Anne, on the verge of tears. "Diana has only one birthday in a year. It isn t as if birthdays were common things, Marilla. Prissy Andrews is going to recite `Curfew Must Not Ring Tonight. That is such a good moral piece, Marilla, I m sure it would do me lots of good to hear it. And the choir are going to sing four lovely pathetic songs that are pretty near as good as hymns. And oh, Marilla, the minister is going to take part; yes, indeed, he is; he s going to give an address. That will be just about the same thing as a sermon. Please, mayn t I go, Marilla?" "You heard what I said, Anne, didn t you? Take off your boots now and go to bed. It s past eight." "There s just one more thing, Marilla," said Anne, with the air of producing the last shot in her locker. "Mrs. Barry told Diana that we might sleep in the spare-room bed. Think of the honor of your little Anne being put in the spare-room bed." "It s an honor you ll have to get along without. Go to bed, Anne, and don t let me hear another word out of you." When Anne, with tears rolling over her cheeks, had gone sorrowfully upstairs, Matthew, who had been apparently sound asleep on the lounge during the whole dialogue, opened his eyes and said decidedly "Well now, Marilla, I think you ought to let Anne go." "I don t then," retorted Marilla. "Who s bringing this child up, Matthew, you or me?" "Well now, you," admitted Matthew. "Don t interfere then." "Well now, I ain t interfering. It ain t interfering to have your own opinion. And my opinion is that you ought to let Anne go." "You d think I ought to let Anne go to the moon if she took the notion, I ve no doubt" was Marilla s amiable rejoinder. "I might have let her spend the night with Diana, if that was all. But I don t approve of this concert plan. She d go there and catch cold like as not, and have her head filled up with nonsense and excitement. It would unsettle her for a week. I understand that child s disposition and what s good for it better than you, Matthew." "I think you ought to let Anne go," repeated Matthew firmly. Argument was not his strong point, but holding fast to his opinion certainly was. Marilla gave a gasp of helplessness and took refuge in silence. The next morning, when Anne was washing the breakfast dishes in the pantry, Matthew paused on his way out to the barn to say to Marilla again "I think you ought to let Anne go, Marilla." For a moment Marilla looked things not lawful to be uttered. Then she yielded to the inevitable and said tartly "Very well, she can go, since nothing else ll please you." Anne flew out of the pantry, dripping dishcloth in hand. "Oh, Marilla, Marilla, say those blessed words again." "I guess once is enough to say them. This is Matthew s doings and I wash my hands of it. If you catch pneumonia sleeping in a strange bed or coming out of that hot hall in the middle of the night, don t blame me, blame Matthew. Anne Shirley, you re dripping greasy water all over the floor. I never saw such a careless child." "Oh, I know I m a great trial to you, Marilla," said Anne repentantly. "I make so many mistakes. But then just think of all the mistakes I don t make, although I might. I ll get some sand and scrub up the spots before I go to school. Oh, Marilla, my heart was just set on going to that concert. I never was to a concert in my life, and when the other girls talk about them in school I feel so out of it. You didn t know just how I felt about it, but you see Matthew did. Matthew understands me, and it s so nice to be understood, Marilla." Anne was too excited to do herself justice as to lessons that morning in school. Gilbert Blythe spelled her down in class and left her clear out of sight in mental arithmetic. Anne s consequent humiliation was less than it might have been, however, in view of the concert and the spare-room bed. She and Diana talked so constantly about it all day that with a stricter teacher than Mr. Phillips dire disgrace must inevitably have been their portion. Anne felt that she could not have borne it if she had not been going to the concert, for nothing else was discussed that day in school. The Avonlea Debating Club, which met fortnightly all winter, had had several smaller free entertainments; but this was to be a big affair, admission ten cents, in aid of the library. The Avonlea young people had been practicing for weeks, and all the scholars were especially interested in it by reason of older brothers and sisters who were going to take part. Everybody in school over nine years of age expected to go, except Carrie Sloane, whose father shared Marilla s opinions about small girls going out to night concerts. Carrie Sloane cried into her grammar all the afternoon and felt that life was not worth living. For Anne the real excitement began with the dismissal of school and increased therefrom in crescendo until it reached to a crash of positive ecstasy in the concert itself. They had a "perfectly elegant tea;" and then came the delicious occupation of dressing in Diana s little room upstairs. Diana did Anne s front hair in the new pompadour style and Anne tied Diana s bows with the especial knack she possessed; and they experimented with at least half a dozen different ways of arranging their back hair. At last they were ready, cheeks scarlet and eyes glowing with excitement. True, Anne could not help a little pang when she contrasted her plain black tam and shapeless, tight-sleeved, homemade gray-cloth coat with Diana s jaunty fur cap and smart little jacket. But she remembered in time that she had an imagination and could use it. Then Diana s cousins, the Murrays from Newbridge, came; they all crowded into the big pung sleigh, among straw and furry robes. Anne reveled in the drive to the hall, slipping along over the satin-smooth roads with the snow crisping under the runners. There was a magnificent sunset, and the snowy hills and deep-blue water of the St. Lawrence Gulf seemed to rim in the splendor like a huge bowl of pearl and sapphire brimmed with wine and fire. Tinkles of sleigh bells and distant laughter, that seemed like the mirth of wood elves, came from every quarter. "Oh, Diana," breathed Anne, squeezing Diana s mittened hand under the fur robe, "isn t it all like a beautiful dream? Do I really look the same as usual? I feel so different that it seems to me it must show in my looks." "You look awfully nice," said Diana, who having just received a compliment from one of her cousins, felt that she ought to pass it on. "You ve got the loveliest color." The program that night was a series of "thrills" for at least one listener in the audience, and, as Anne assured Diana, every succeeding thrill was thrillier than the last. When Prissy Andrews, attired in a new pink-silk waist with a string of pearls about her smooth white throat and real carnations in her hair--rumor whispered that the master had sent all the way to town for them for her--"climbed the slimy ladder, dark without one ray of light," Anne shivered in luxurious sympathy; when the choir sang "Far Above the Gentle Daisies" Anne gazed at the ceiling as if it were frescoed with angels; when Sam Sloane proceeded to explain and illustrate "How Sockery Set a Hen" Anne laughed until people sitting near her laughed too, more out of sympathy with her than with amusement at a selection that was rather threadbare even in Avonlea; and when Mr. Phillips gave Mark Antony s oration over the dead body of Caesar in the most heartstirring tones--looking at Prissy Andrews at the end of every sentence--Anne felt that she could rise and mutiny on the spot if but one Roman citizen led the way. Only one number on the program failed to interest her. When Gilbert Blythe recited "Bingen on the Rhine" Anne picked up Rhoda Murray s library book and read it until he had finished, when she sat rigidly stiff and motionless while Diana clapped her hands until they tingled. It was eleven when they got home, sated with dissipation, but with the exceeding sweet pleasure of talking it all over still to come. Everybody seemed asleep and the house was dark and silent. Anne and Diana tiptoed into the parlor, a long narrow room out of which the spare room opened. It was pleasantly warm and dimly lighted by the embers of a fire in the grate. "Let s undress here," said Diana. "It s so nice and warm." "Hasn t it been a delightful time?" sighed Anne rapturously. "It must be splendid to get up and recite there. Do you suppose we will ever be asked to do it, Diana?" "Yes, of course, someday. They re always wanting the big scholars to recite. Gilbert Blythe does often and he s only two years older than us. Oh, Anne, how could you pretend not to listen to him? When he came to the line, "THERE S ANOTHER, not A SISTER, he looked right down at you." "Diana," said Anne with dignity, "you are my bosom friend, but I cannot allow even you to speak to me of that person. Are you ready for bed? Let s run a race and see who ll get to the bed first." The suggestion appealed to Diana. The two little white-clad figures flew down the long room, through the spare-room door, and bounded on the bed at the same moment. And then--something--moved beneath them, there was a gasp and a cry--and somebody said in muffled accents "Merciful goodness!" Anne and Diana were never able to tell just how they got off that bed and out of the room. They only knew that after one frantic rush they found themselves tiptoeing shiveringly upstairs. "Oh, who was it--WHAT was it?" whispered Anne, her teeth chattering with cold and fright. "It was Aunt Josephine," said Diana, gasping with laughter. "Oh, Anne, it was Aunt Josephine, however she came to be there. Oh, and I know she will be furious. It s dreadful--it s really dreadful--but did you ever know anything so funny, Anne?" "Who is your Aunt Josephine?" "She s father s aunt and she lives in Charlottetown. She s awfully old--seventy anyhow--and I don t believe she was EVER a little girl. We were expecting her out for a visit, but not so soon. She s awfully prim and proper and she ll scold dreadfully about this, I know. Well, we ll have to sleep with Minnie May--and you can t think how she kicks." Miss Josephine Barry did not appear at the early breakfast the next morning. Mrs. Barry smiled kindly at the two little girls. "Did you have a good time last night? I tried to stay awake until you came home, for I wanted to tell you Aunt Josephine had come and that you would have to go upstairs after all, but I was so tired I fell asleep. I hope you didn t disturb your aunt, Diana." Diana preserved a discreet silence, but she and Anne exchanged furtive smiles of guilty amusement across the table. Anne hurried home after breakfast and so remained in blissful ignorance of the disturbance which presently resulted in the Barry household until the late afternoon, when she went down to Mrs. Lynde s on an errand for Marilla. "So you and Diana nearly frightened poor old Miss Barry to death last night?" said Mrs. Lynde severely, but with a twinkle in her eye. "Mrs. Barry was here a few minutes ago on her way to Carmody. She s feeling real worried over it. Old Miss Barry was in a terrible temper when she got up this morning--and Josephine Barry s temper is no joke, I can tell you that. She wouldn t speak to Diana at all." "It wasn t Diana s fault," said Anne contritely. "It was mine. I suggested racing to see who would get into bed first." "I knew it!" said Mrs. Lynde, with the exultation of a correct guesser. "I knew that idea came out of your head. Well, it s made a nice lot of trouble, that s what. Old Miss Barry came out to stay for a month, but she declares she won t stay another day and is going right back to town tomorrow, Sunday and all as it is. She d have gone today if they could have taken her. She had promised to pay for a quarter s music lessons for Diana, but now she is determined to do nothing at all for such a tomboy. Oh, I guess they had a lively time of it there this morning. The Barrys must feel cut up. Old Miss Barry is rich and they d like to keep on the good side of her. Of course, Mrs. Barry didn t say just that to me, but I m a pretty good judge of human nature, that s what." "I m such an unlucky girl," mourned Anne. "I m always getting into scrapes myself and getting my best friends--people I d shed my heart s blood for--into them too. Can you tell me why it is so, Mrs. Lynde?" "It s because you re too heedless and impulsive, child, that s what. You never stop to think--whatever comes into your head to say or do you say or do it without a moment s reflection." "Oh, but that s the best of it," protested Anne. "Something just flashes into your mind, so exciting, and you must out with it. If you stop to think it over you spoil it all. Haven t you never felt that yourself, Mrs. Lynde?" No, Mrs. Lynde had not. She shook her head sagely. "You must learn to think a little, Anne, that s what. The proverb you need to go by is `Look before you leap --especially into spare-room beds." Mrs. Lynde laughed comfortably over her mild joke, but Anne remained pensive. She saw nothing to laugh at in the situation, which to her eyes appeared very serious. When she left Mrs. Lynde s she took her way across the crusted fields to Orchard Slope. Diana met her at the kitchen door. "Your Aunt Josephine was very cross about it, wasn t she?" whispered Anne. "Yes," answered Diana, stifling a giggle with an apprehensive glance over her shoulder at the closed sitting-room door. "She was fairly dancing with rage, Anne. Oh, how she scolded. She said I was the worst-behaved girl she ever saw and that my parents ought to be ashamed of the way they had brought me up. She says she won t stay and I m sure I don t care. But Father and Mother do." "Why didn t you tell them it was my fault?" demanded Anne. "It s likely I d do such a thing, isn t it?" said Diana with just scorn. "I m no telltale, Anne Shirley, and anyhow I was just as much to blame as you." "Well, I m going in to tell her myself," said Anne resolutely. Diana stared. "Anne Shirley, you d never! why--she ll eat you alive!" "Don t frighten me any more than I am frightened," implored Anne. "I d rather walk up to a cannon s mouth. But I ve got to do it, Diana. It was my fault and I ve got to confess. I ve had practice in confessing, fortunately." "Well, she s in the room," said Diana. "You can go in if you want to. I wouldn t dare. And I don t believe you ll do a bit of good." With this encouragement Anne bearded the lion in its den--that is to say, walked resolutely up to the sitting-room door and knocked faintly. A sharp "Come in" followed. Miss Josephine Barry, thin, prim, and rigid, was knitting fiercely by the fire, her wrath quite unappeased and her eyes snapping through her gold-rimmed glasses. She wheeled around in her chair, expecting to see Diana, and beheld a white-faced girl whose great eyes were brimmed up with a mixture of desperate courage and shrinking terror. "Who are you?" demanded Miss Josephine Barry, without ceremony. "I m Anne of Green Gables," said the small visitor tremulously, clasping her hands with her characteristic gesture, "and I ve come to confess, if you please." "Confess what?" "That it was all my fault about jumping into bed on you last night. I suggested it. Diana would never have thought of such a thing, I am sure. Diana is a very ladylike girl, Miss Barry. So you must see how unjust it is to blame her." "Oh, I must, hey? I rather think Diana did her share of the jumping at least. Such carryings on in a respectable house!" "But we were only in fun," persisted Anne. "I think you ought to forgive us, Miss Barry, now that we ve apologized. And anyhow, please forgive Diana and let her have her music lessons. Diana s heart is set on her music lessons, Miss Barry, and I know too well what it is to set your heart on a thing and not get it. If you must be cross with anyone, be cross with me. I ve been so used in my early days to having people cross at me that I can endure it much better than Diana can." Much of the snap had gone out of the old lady s eyes by this time and was replaced by a twinkle of amused interest. But she still said severely "I don t think it is any excuse for you that you were only in fun. Little girls never indulged in that kind of fun when I was young. You don t know what it is to be awakened out of a sound sleep, after a long and arduous journey, by two great girls coming bounce down on you." "I don t KNOW, but I can IMAGINE," said Anne eagerly. "I m sure it must have been very disturbing. But then, there is our side of it too. Have you any imagination, Miss Barry? If you have, just put yourself in our place. We didn t know there was anybody in that bed and you nearly scared us to death. It was simply awful the way we felt. And then we couldn t sleep in the spare room after being promised. I suppose you are used to sleeping in spare rooms. But just imagine what you would feel like if you were a little orphan girl who had never had such an honor." All the snap had gone by this time. Miss Barry actually laughed--a sound which caused Diana, waiting in speechless anxiety in the kitchen outside, to give a great gasp of relief. "I m afraid my imagination is a little rusty--it s so long since I used it," she said. "I dare say your claim to sympathy is just as strong as mine. It all depends on the way we look at it. Sit down here and tell me about yourself." "I am very sorry I can t," said Anne firmly. "I would like to, because you seem like an interesting lady, and you might even be a kindred spirit although you don t look very much like it. But it is my duty to go home to Miss Marilla Cuthbert. Miss Marilla Cuthbert is a very kind lady who has taken me to bring up properly. She is doing her best, but it is very discouraging work. You must not blame her because I jumped on the bed. But before I go I do wish you would tell me if you will forgive Diana and stay just as long as you meant to in Avonlea." "I think perhaps I will if you will come over and talk to me occasionally," said Miss Barry. That evening Miss Barry gave Diana a silver bangle bracelet and told the senior members of the household that she had unpacked her valise. "I ve made up my mind to stay simply for the sake of getting better acquainted with that Anne-girl," she said frankly. "She amuses me, and at my time of life an amusing person is a rarity." Marilla s only comment when she heard the story was, "I told you so." This was for Matthew s benefit. Miss Barry stayed her month out and over. She was a more agreeable guest than usual, for Anne kept her in good humor. They became firm friends. When Miss Barry went away she said "Remember, you Anne-girl, when you come to town you re to visit me and I ll put you in my very sparest spare-room bed to sleep." "Miss Barry was a kindred spirit, after all," Anne confided to Marilla. "You wouldn t think so to look at her, but she is. You don t find it right out at first, as in Matthew s case, but after a while you come to see it. Kindred spirits are not so scarce as I used to think. It s splendid to find out there are so many of them in the world." CHAPTER XVIII UP CHAPTER XX 今日 - | 昨日 - | Total - since 05 June 2007 last update 2007-06-05 01 22 55 (Tue)
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CHAPTER XXXII UP CHAPTER XXXIV CHAPTER XXXIII The Hotel Concert "Put on your white organdy, by all means, Anne," advised Diana decidedly. They were together in the east gable chamber; outside it was only twilight--a lovely yellowish-green twilight with a clear-blue cloudless sky. A big round moon, slowly deepening from her pallid luster into burnished silver, hung over the Haunted Wood; the air was full of sweet summer sounds--sleepy birds twittering, freakish breezes, faraway voices and laughter. But in Anne s room the blind was drawn and the lamp lighted, for an important toilet was being made. The east gable was a very different place from what it had been on that night four years before, when Anne had felt its bareness penetrate to the marrow of her spirit with its inhospitable chill. Changes had crept in, Marilla conniving at them resignedly, until it was as sweet and dainty a nest as a young girl could desire. The velvet carpet with the pink roses and the pink silk curtains of Anne s early visions had certainly never materialized; but her dreams had kept pace with her growth, and it is not probable she lamented them. The floor was covered with a pretty matting, and the curtains that softened the high window and fluttered in the vagrant breezes were of pale-green art muslin. The walls, hung not with gold and silver brocade tapestry, but with a dainty apple-blossom paper, were adorned with a few good pictures given Anne by Mrs. Allan. Miss Stacy s photograph occupied the place of honor, and Anne made a sentimental point of keeping fresh flowers on the bracket under it. Tonight a spike of white lilies faintly perfumed the room like the dream of a fragrance. There was no "mahogany furniture," but there was a white-painted bookcase filled with books, a cushioned wicker rocker, a toilet table befrilled with white muslin, a quaint, gilt-framed mirror with chubby pink Cupids and purple grapes painted over its arched top, that used to hang in the spare room, and a low white bed. Anne was dressing for a concert at the White Sands Hotel. The guests had got it up in aid of the Charlottetown hospital, and had hunted out all the available amateur talent in the surrounding districts to help it along. Bertha Sampson and Pearl Clay of the White Sands Baptist choir had been asked to sing a duet; Milton Clark of Newbridge was to give a violin solo; Winnie Adella Blair of Carmody was to sing a Scotch ballad; and Laura Spencer of Spencervale and Anne Shirley of Avonlea were to recite. As Anne would have said at one time, it was "an epoch in her life," and she was deliciously athrill with the excitement of it. Matthew was in the seventh heaven of gratified pride over the honor conferred on his Anne and Marilla was not far behind, although she would have died rather than admit it, and said she didn t think it was very proper for a lot of young folks to be gadding over to the hotel without any responsible person with them. Anne and Diana were to drive over with Jane Andrews and her brother Billy in their double-seated buggy; and several other Avonlea girls and boys were going too. There was a party of visitors expected out from town, and after the concert a supper was to be given to the performers. "Do you really think the organdy will be best?" queried Anne anxiously. "I don t think it s as pretty as my blue-flowered muslin--and it certainly isn t so fashionable." "But it suits you ever so much better," said Diana. "It s so soft and frilly and clinging. The muslin is stiff, and makes you look too dressed up. But the organdy seems as if it grew on you." Anne sighed and yielded. Diana was beginning to have a reputation for notable taste in dressing, and her advice on such subjects was much sought after. She was looking very pretty herself on this particular night in a dress of the lovely wild-rose pink, from which Anne was forever debarred; but she was not to take any part in the concert, so her appearance was of minor importance. All her pains were bestowed upon Anne, who, she vowed, must, for the credit of Avonlea, be dressed and combed and adorned to the Queen s taste. "Pull out that frill a little more--so; here, let me tie your sash; now for your slippers. I m going to braid your hair in two thick braids, and tie them halfway up with big white bows--no, don t pull out a single curl over your forehead--just have the soft part. There is no way you do your hair suits you so well, Anne, and Mrs. Allan says you look like a Madonna when you part it so. I shall fasten this little white house rose just behind your ear. There was just one on my bush, and I saved it for you." "Shall I put my pearl beads on?" asked Anne. "Matthew brought me a string from town last week, and I know he d like to see them on me." Diana pursed up her lips, put her black head on one side critically, and finally pronounced in favor of the beads, which were thereupon tied around Anne s slim milk-white throat. "There s something so stylish about you, Anne," said Diana, with unenvious admiration. "You hold your head with such an air. I suppose it s your figure. I am just a dumpling. I ve always been afraid of it, and now I know it is so. Well, I suppose I shall just have to resign myself to it." "But you have such dimples," said Anne, smiling affectionately into the pretty, vivacious face so near her own. "Lovely dimples, like little dents in cream. I have given up all hope of dimples. My dimple-dream will never come true; but so many of my dreams have that I mustn t complain. Am I all ready now?" "All ready," assured Diana, as Marilla appeared in the doorway, a gaunt figure with grayer hair than of yore and no fewer angles, but with a much softer face. "Come right in and look at our elocutionist, Marilla. Doesn t she look lovely?" Marilla emitted a sound between a sniff and a grunt. "She looks neat and proper. I like that way of fixing her hair. But I expect she ll ruin that dress driving over there in the dust and dew with it, and it looks most too thin for these damp nights. Organdy s the most unserviceable stuff in the world anyhow, and I told Matthew so when he got it. But there is no use in saying anything to Matthew nowadays. Time was when he would take my advice, but now he just buys things for Anne regardless, and the clerks at Carmody know they can palm anything off on him. Just let them tell him a thing is pretty and fashionable, and Matthew plunks his money down for it. Mind you keep your skirt clear of the wheel, Anne, and put your warm jacket on." Then Marilla stalked downstairs, thinking proudly how sweet Anne looked, with that "One moonbeam from the forehead to the crown" and regretting that she could not go to the concert herself to hear her girl recite. "I wonder if it IS too damp for my dress," said Anne anxiously. "Not a bit of it," said Diana, pulling up the window blind. "It s a perfect night, and there won t be any dew. Look at the moonlight." "I m so glad my window looks east into the sunrising," said Anne, going over to Diana. "It s so splendid to see the morning coming up over those long hills and glowing through those sharp fir tops. It s new every morning, and I feel as if I washed my very soul in that bath of earliest sunshine. Oh, Diana, I love this little room so dearly. I don t know how I ll get along without it when I go to town next month." "Don t speak of your going away tonight," begged Diana. "I don t want to think of it, it makes me so miserable, and I do want to have a good time this evening. What are you going to recite, Anne? And are you nervous?" "Not a bit. I ve recited so often in public I don t mind at all now. I ve decided to give `The Maiden s Vow. It s so pathetic. Laura Spencer is going to give a comic recitation, but I d rather make people cry than laugh." "What will you recite if they encore you?" "They won t dream of encoring me," scoffed Anne, who was not without her own secret hopes that they would, and already visioned herself telling Matthew all about it at the next morning s breakfast table. "There are Billy and Jane now-- I hear the wheels. Come on." Billy Andrews insisted that Anne should ride on the front seat with him, so she unwillingly climbed up. She would have much preferred to sit back with the girls, where she could have laughed and chattered to her heart s content. There was not much of either laughter or chatter in Billy. He was a big, fat, stolid youth of twenty, with a round, expressionless face, and a painful lack of conversational gifts. But he admired Anne immensely, and was puffed up with pride over the prospect of driving to White Sands with that slim, upright figure beside him. Anne, by dint of talking over her shoulder to the girls and occasionally passing a sop of civility to Billy--who grinned and chuckled and never could think of any reply until it was too late--contrived to enjoy the drive in spite of all. It was a night for enjoyment. The road was full of buggies, all bound for the hotel, and laughter, silver clear, echoed and reechoed along it. When they reached the hotel it was a blaze of light from top to bottom. They were met by the ladies of the concert committee, one of whom took Anne off to the performers dressing room which was filled with the members of a Charlottetown Symphony Club, among whom Anne felt suddenly shy and frightened and countrified. Her dress, which, in the east gable, had seemed so dainty and pretty, now seemed simple and plain--too simple and plain, she thought, among all the silks and laces that glistened and rustled around her. What were her pearl beads compared to the diamonds of the big, handsome lady near her? And how poor her one wee white rose must look beside all the hothouse flowers the others wore! Anne laid her hat and jacket away, and shrank miserably into a corner. She wished herself back in the white room at Green Gables. It was still worse on the platform of the big concert hall of the hotel, where she presently found herself. The electric lights dazzled her eyes, the perfume and hum bewildered her. She wished she were sitting down in the audience with Diana and Jane, who seemed to be having a splendid time away at the back. She was wedged in between a stout lady in pink silk and a tall, scornful-looking girl in a white-lace dress. The stout lady occasionally turned her head squarely around and surveyed Anne through her eyeglasses until Anne, acutely sensitive of being so scrutinized, felt that she must scream aloud; and the white-lace girl kept talking audibly to her next neighbor about the "country bumpkins" and "rustic belles" in the audience, languidly anticipating "such fun" from the displays of local talent on the program. Anne believed that she would hate that white-lace girl to the end of life. Unfortunately for Anne, a professional elocutionist was staying at the hotel and had consented to recite. She was a lithe, dark-eyed woman in a wonderful gown of shimmering gray stuff like woven moonbeams, with gems on her neck and in her dark hair. She had a marvelously flexible voice and wonderful power of expression; the audience went wild over her selection. Anne, forgetting all about herself and her troubles for the time, listened with rapt and shining eyes; but when the recitation ended she suddenly put her hands over her face. She could never get up and recite after that--never. Had she ever thought she could recite? Oh, if she were only back at Green Gables! At this unpropitious moment her name was called. Somehow Anne--who did not notice the rather guilty little start of surprise the white-lace girl gave, and would not have understood the subtle compliment implied therein if she had--got on her feet, and moved dizzily out to the front. She was so pale that Diana and Jane, down in the audience, clasped each other s hands in nervous sympathy. Anne was the victim of an overwhelming attack of stage fright. Often as she had recited in public, she had never before faced such an audience as this, and the sight of it paralyzed her energies completely. Everything was so strange, so brilliant, so bewildering--the rows of ladies in evening dress, the critical faces, the whole atmosphere of wealth and culture about her. Very different this from the plain benches at the Debating Club, filled with the homely, sympathetic faces of friends and neighbors. These people, she thought, would be merciless critics. Perhaps, like the white-lace girl, they anticipated amusement from her "rustic" efforts. She felt hopelessly, helplessly ashamed and miserable. Her knees trembled, her heart fluttered, a horrible faintness came over her; not a word could she utter, and the next moment she would have fled from the platform despite the humiliation which, she felt, must ever after be her portion if she did so. But suddenly, as her dilated, frightened eyes gazed out over the audience, she saw Gilbert Blythe away at the back of the room, bending forward with a smile on his face--a smile which seemed to Anne at once triumphant and taunting. In reality it was nothing of the kind. Gilbert was merely smiling with appreciation of the whole affair in general and of the effect produced by Anne s slender white form and spiritual face against a background of palms in particular. Josie Pye, whom he had driven over, sat beside him, and her face certainly was both triumphant and taunting. But Anne did not see Josie, and would not have cared if she had. She drew a long breath and flung her head up proudly, courage and determination tingling over her like an electric shock. She WOULD NOT fail before Gilbert Blythe--he should never be able to laugh at her, never, never! Her fright and nervousness vanished; and she began her recitation, her clear, sweet voice reaching to the farthest corner of the room without a tremor or a break. Self-possession was fully restored to her, and in the reaction from that horrible moment of powerlessness she recited as she had never done before. When she finished there were bursts of honest applause. Anne, stepping back to her seat, blushing with shyness and delight, found her hand vigorously clasped and shaken by the stout lady in pink silk. "My dear, you did splendidly," she puffed. "I ve been crying like a baby, actually I have. There, they re encoring you-- they re bound to have you back!" "Oh, I can t go," said Anne confusedly. "But yet--I must, or Matthew will be disappointed. He said they would encore me." "Then don t disappoint Matthew," said the pink lady, laughing. Smiling, blushing, limpid eyed, Anne tripped back and gave a quaint, funny little selection that captivated her audience still further. The rest of the evening was quite a little triumph for her. When the concert was over, the stout, pink lady--who was the wife of an American millionaire--took her under her wing, and introduced her to everybody; and everybody was very nice to her. The professional elocutionist, Mrs. Evans, came and chatted with her, telling her that she had a charming voice and "interpreted" her selections beautifully. Even the white-lace girl paid her a languid little compliment. They had supper in the big, beautifully decorated dining room; Diana and Jane were invited to partake of this, also, since they had come with Anne, but Billy was nowhere to be found, having decamped in mortal fear of some such invitation. He was in waiting for them, with the team, however, when it was all over, and the three girls came merrily out into the calm, white moonshine radiance. Anne breathed deeply, and looked into the clear sky beyond the dark boughs of the firs. Oh, it was good to be out again in the purity and silence of the night! How great and still and wonderful everything was, with the murmur of the sea sounding through it and the darkling cliffs beyond like grim giants guarding enchanted coasts. "Hasn t it been a perfectly splendid time?" sighed Jane, as they drove away. "I just wish I was a rich American and could spend my summer at a hotel and wear jewels and low-necked dresses and have ice cream and chicken salad every blessed day. I m sure it would be ever so much more fun than teaching school. Anne, your recitation was simply great, although I thought at first you were never going to begin. I think it was better than Mrs. Evans s." "Oh, no, don t say things like that, Jane," said Anne quickly, "because it sounds silly. It couldn t be better than Mrs. Evans s, you know, for she is a professional, and I m only a schoolgirl, with a little knack of reciting. I m quite satisfied if the people just liked mine pretty well." "I ve a compliment for you, Anne," said Diana. "At least I think it must be a compliment because of the tone he said it in. Part of it was anyhow. There was an American sitting behind Jane and me--such a romantic-looking man, with coal-black hair and eyes. Josie Pye says he is a distinguished artist, and that her mother s cousin in Boston is married to a man that used to go to school with him. Well, we heard him say--didn t we, Jane?--`Who is that girl on the platform with the splendid Titian hair? She has a face I should like to paint. There now, Anne. But what does Titian hair mean?" "Being interpreted it means plain red, I guess," laughed Anne. "Titian was a very famous artist who liked to paint red-haired women." "DID you see all the diamonds those ladies wore?" sighed Jane. "They were simply dazzling. Wouldn t you just love to be rich, girls?" "We ARE rich," said Anne staunchly. "Why, we have sixteen years to our credit, and we re happy as queens, and we ve all got imaginations, more or less. Look at that sea, girls--all silver and shadow and vision of things not seen. We couldn t enjoy its loveliness any more if we had millions of dollars and ropes of diamonds. You wouldn t change into any of those women if you could. Would you want to be that white-lace girl and wear a sour look all your life, as if you d been born turning up your nose at the world? Or the pink lady, kind and nice as she is, so stout and short that you d really no figure at all? Or even Mrs. Evans, with that sad, sad look in her eyes? She must have been dreadfully unhappy sometime to have such a look. You KNOW you wouldn t, Jane Andrews!" "I DON T know--exactly," said Jane unconvinced. "I think diamonds would comfort a person for a good deal." "Well, I don t want to be anyone but myself, even if I go uncomforted by diamonds all my life," declared Anne. "I m quite content to be Anne of Green Gables, with my string of pearl beads. I know Matthew gave me as much love with them as ever went with Madame the Pink Lady s jewels." CHAPTER XXXII UP CHAPTER XXXIV 今日 - | 昨日 - | Total - since 05 June 2007 last update 2007-06-05 01 17 20 (Tue)
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CHAPTER XXI UP CHAPTER XXIII CHAPTER XXII Anne is Invited Out to Tea "And what are your eyes popping out of your head about. Now?" asked Marilla, when Anne had just come in from a run to the post office. "Have you discovered another kindred spirit?" Excitement hung around Anne like a garment, shone in her eyes, kindled in every feature. She had come dancing up the lane, like a wind-blown sprite, through the mellow sunshine and lazy shadows of the August evening. "No, Marilla, but oh, what do you think? I am invited to tea at the manse tomorrow afternoon! Mrs. Allan left the letter for me at the post office. Just look at it, Marilla. `Miss Anne Shirley, Green Gables. That is the first time I was ever called `Miss. Such a thrill as it gave me! I shall cherish it forever among my choicest treasures." "Mrs. Allan told me she meant to have all the members of her Sunday-school class to tea in turn," said Marilla, regarding the wonderful event very coolly. "You needn t get in such a fever over it. Do learn to take things calmly, child." For Anne to take things calmly would have been to change her nature. All "spirit and fire and dew," as she was, the pleasures and pains of life came to her with trebled intensity. Marilla felt this and was vaguely troubled over it, realizing that the ups and downs of existence would probably bear hardly on this impulsive soul and not sufficiently understanding that the equally great capacity for delight might more than compensate. Therefore Marilla conceived it to be her duty to drill Anne into a tranquil uniformity of disposition as impossible and alien to her as to a dancing sunbeam in one of the brook shallows. She did not make much headway, as she sorrowfully admitted to herself. The downfall of some dear hope or plan plunged Anne into "deeps of affliction." The fulfillment thereof exalted her to dizzy realms of delight. Marilla had almost begun to despair of ever fashioning this waif of the world into her model little girl of demure manners and prim deportment. Neither would she have believed that she really liked Anne much better as she was. Anne went to bed that night speechless with misery because Matthew had said the wind was round northeast and he feared it would be a rainy day tomorrow. The rustle of the poplar leaves about the house worried her, it sounded so like pattering raindrops, and the full, faraway roar of the gulf, to which she listened delightedly at other times, loving its strange, sonorous, haunting rhythm, now seemed like a prophecy of storm and disaster to a small maiden who particularly wanted a fine day. Anne thought that the morning would never come. But all things have an end, even nights before the day on which you are invited to take tea at the manse. The morning, in spite of Matthew s predictions, was fine and Anne s spirits soared to their highest. "Oh, Marilla, there is something in me today that makes me just love everybody I see," she exclaimed as she washed the breakfast dishes. "You don t know how good I feel! Wouldn t it be nice if it could last? I believe I could be a model child if I were just invited out to tea every day. But oh, Marilla, it s a solemn occasion too. I feel so anxious. What if I shouldn t behave properly? You know I never had tea at a manse before, and I m not sure that I know all the rules of etiquette, although I ve been studying the rules given in the Etiquette Department of the Family Herald ever since I came here. I m so afraid I ll do something silly or forget to do something I should do. Would it be good manners to take a second helping of anything if you wanted to VERY much?" "The trouble with you, Anne, is that you re thinking too much about yourself. You should just think of Mrs. Allan and what would be nicest and most agreeable to her," said Marilla, hitting for once in her life on a very sound and pithy piece of advice. Anne instantly realized this. "You are right, Marilla. I ll try not to think about myself at all." Anne evidently got through her visit without any serious breach of "etiquette," for she came home through the twilight, under a great, high-sprung sky gloried over with trails of saffron and rosy cloud, in a beatified state of mind and told Marilla all about it happily, sitting on the big red-sandstone slab at the kitchen door with her tired curly head in Marilla s gingham lap. A cool wind was blowing down over the long harvest fields from the rims of firry western hills and whistling through the poplars. One clear star hung over the orchard and the fireflies were flitting over in Lover s Lane, in and out among the ferns and rustling boughs. Anne watched them as she talked and somehow felt that wind and stars and fireflies were all tangled up together into something unutterably sweet and enchanting. "Oh, Marilla, I ve had a most FASCINATING time. I feel that I have not lived in vain and I shall always feel like that even if I should never be invited to tea at a manse again. When I got there Mrs. Allan met me at the door. She was dressed in the sweetest dress of pale-pink organdy, with dozens of frills and elbow sleeves, and she looked just like a seraph. I really think I d like to be a minister s wife when I grow up, Marilla. A minister mightn t mind my red hair because he wouldn t be thinking of such worldly things. But then of course one would have to be naturally good and I ll never be that, so I suppose there s no use in thinking about it. Some people are naturally good, you know, and others are not. I m one of the others. Mrs. Lynde says I m full of original sin. No matter how hard I try to be good I can never make such a success of it as those who are naturally good. It s a good deal like geometry, I expect. But don t you think the trying so hard ought to count for something? Mrs. Allan is one of the naturally good people. I love her passionately. You know there are some people, like Matthew and Mrs. Allan that you can love right off without any trouble. And there are others, like Mrs. Lynde, that you have to try very hard to love. You know you OUGHT to love them because they know so much and are such active workers in the church, but you have to keep reminding yourself of it all the time or else you forget. There was another little girl at the manse to tea, from the White Sands Sunday school. Her name was Laurette Bradley, and she was a very nice little girl. Not exactly a kindred spirit, you know, but still very nice. We had an elegant tea, and I think I kept all the rules of etiquette pretty well. After tea Mrs. Allan played and sang and she got Lauretta and me to sing too. Mrs. Allan says I have a good voice and she says I must sing in the Sunday-school choir after this. You can t think how I was thrilled at the mere thought. I ve longed so to sing in the Sunday-school choir, as Diana does, but I feared it was an honor I could never aspire to. Lauretta had to go home early because there is a big concert in the White Sands Hotel tonight and her sister is to recite at it. Lauretta says that the Americans at the hotel give a concert every fortnight in aid of the Charlottetown hospital, and they ask lots of the White Sands people to recite. Lauretta said she expected to be asked herself someday. I just gazed at her in awe. After she had gone Mrs. Allan and I had a heart-to-heart talk. I told her everything--about Mrs. Thomas and the twins and Katie Maurice and Violetta and coming to Green Gables and my troubles over geometry. And would you believe it, Marilla? Mrs. Allan told me she was a dunce at geometry too. You don t know how that encouraged me. Mrs. Lynde came to the manse just before I left, and what do you think, Marilla? The trustees have hired a new teacher and it s a lady. Her name is Miss Muriel Stacy. Isn t that a romantic name? Mrs. Lynde says they ve never had a female teacher in Avonlea before and she thinks it is a dangerous innovation. But I think it will be splendid to have a lady teacher, and I really don t see how I m going to live through the two weeks before school begins. I m so impatient to see her." CHAPTER XXI UP CHAPTER XXIII 今日 - | 昨日 - | Total - since 05 June 2007 last update 2007-06-05 01 21 35 (Tue)