Beth had her troubles as well as the others, and not being an angel but a very human little girl, she often 'wept a little weep' as Jo said, because she couldn't take music lessons and have a fine piano. She loved music so dearly, tried so hard to learn, and practiced away so patiently at the jingling old instrument, that it did seem as if someone (not to hint Aunt March) ought to help her. Nobody did, however, and nobody saw Beth wipe the tears off the yellow keys, that wouldn't keep in tune, when she was all alone. She sang like a little lark about her work, never was too tired for Marmee and the girls, and day after day said hopefully to herself, "I know I'll get my music some time, if I'm good."

贝思像她的姐妹一样也有自己的烦恼，她并非什么天使，也是个食人间烟火的小姑娘。用乔的话来说，她常常"哭鼻子"，因为不能去上音乐课，因为家里没有一架好钢琴。她酷爱音乐，学得异常用功，并极有耐心地用那架丁当作响的钢琴练习弹奏，似乎真该有人（并非暗指马奇婶婶）来帮她一把。然而没有人帮她，也没有人看到她悄悄把落在五音不全的黄色琴键上的眼泪抹掉。她像只小云雀般为自己的工作歌唱，为妈咪和姐妹们伴奏，永不言累，每天都满怀希望地对自己说：“我知道有一天我一定会学好音乐，只要我乖。”

There are many Beths in the world, shy and quiet, sitting in corners till needed, and living for others so cheerfully that no one sees the sacrifices till the little cricket on the hearth stops chirping, and the sweet, sunshiny presence vanishes, leaving silence and shadow behind.

世界上有许许多多个贝思，腼腆平静，默默居于一角，需要时才挺身而出，乐于为别人而牺牲自己。人们只看到她们脸上的笑容，却没有意识到她们所作出的牺牲，直到炉边的小蟋蟀停止了吟唱，和美的阳光消逝而去，空剩下一片寂静和黑暗。

If anybody had asked Amy what the greatest trial of her life was, she would have answered at once, "My nose." When she was a baby, Jo had accidently dropped her into the coal hod, and Amy insisted that the fall had ruined her nose forever. It was not big nor red, like poor 'Petrea's', it was only rather flat, and all the pinching in the world could not give it an aristocratic point. No one minded it but herself, and it was doing its best to grow, but Amy felt deeply the want of a Grecian nose, and drew whole sheets of handsome ones to console herself.

如果有人问艾美生活中最大的痛苦是什么，她会立即回答：“我的鼻子。”当她还是婴孩时，乔一次不小心把她摔落在煤斗里头。艾美认定那次意外永远毁掉了她的鼻子。她的鼻子既不大也不红，只是有点扁。无论怎样捏怎样夹也弄不出个贵族式的鼻尖儿，除了她自己外，并没有人在意，而且鼻子的长势也极好，但艾美总认为自己的鼻梁不够直，便画了一大堆美鼻画儿聊以自慰。

"Little Raphael," as her sisters called her, had a decided talent for drawing, and was never so happy as when copying flowers, designing fairies, or illustrating stories with queer specimens of art. Her teachers complained that instead of doing her sums she covered her slate with animals, the blank pages of her atlas were used to copy maps on, and caricatures of the most ludicrous description came fluttering out of all her books at unlucky moments.

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