Jane

Austen

Emma

Übersetzt von Horst Höckendorf, Lizenz der Aufbau Verlagsgruppe
Synchronisation und Ergänzungen © Doppeltext 2012

TITELBLATT

VOLUME I

CHAPTER I

CHAPTER II

CHAPTER III

CHAPTER IV

CHAPTER V

CHAPTER VI

CHAPTER VII

CHAPTER VIII

CHAPTER IX

CHAPTER X

CHAPTER XI

CHAPTER XII

CHAPTER XIII

CHAPTER XIV

CHAPTER XV

CHAPTER XVI

CHAPTER XVII

CHAPTER XVIII

VOLUME II

CHAPTER I

CHAPTER II

CHAPTER III

CHAPTER IV

CHAPTER V

CHAPTER VI

CHAPTER VII

CHAPTER VIII

CHAPTER IX

CHAPTER X

CHAPTER XI

CHAPTER XII

CHAPTER XIII

CHAPTER XIV

CHAPTER XV

CHAPTER XVI

CHAPTER XVII

CHAPTER XVIII

VOLUME III

CHAPTER I

CHAPTER II

CHAPTER III

CHAPTER IV

CHAPTER V

CHAPTER VI

CHAPTER VII

CHAPTER VIII

CHAPTER IX

CHAPTER X

CHAPTER XI

CHAPTER XII

CHAPTER XIII

CHAPTER XIV

CHAPTER XV

CHAPTER XVI

CHAPTER XVII

CHAPTER XVIII

CHAPTER XIX

IMPRESSUM

VOLUME I

CHAPTER I

Emma Wood­house, hand­some, clev­er, and rich, with a com­fort­able home and happy dis­pos­i­tion,
seemed to unite some of the best bless­ings of ex­ist­ence; and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very little to dis­tress or vex her.
She was the young­est of the two daugh­ters of a most af­fec­tion­ate, in­dul­gent fath­er;
and had, in con­sequence of her sis­ter’s mar­riage, been mis­tress of his house from a very early peri­od.
Her moth­er had died too long ago for her to have more than an in­dis­tinct re­mem­brance of her caresses;
and her place had been sup­plied by an ex­cel­lent wo­man as gov­erness, who had fallen little short of a moth­er in af­fec­tion.
Six­teen years had Miss Taylor been in Mr. Wood­house’s fam­ily, less as a gov­erness than a friend, very fond of both daugh­ters, but par­tic­u­larly of Emma.
Between them it was more the in­tim­acy of sis­ters.
Even be­fore Miss Taylor had ceased to hold the nom­in­al of­fice of gov­erness,
the mild­ness of her tem­per had hardly al­lowed her to im­pose any re­straint;
and the shad­ow of au­thor­ity be­ing now long passed away,
they had been liv­ing to­geth­er as friend and friend very mu­tu­ally at­tached, and Emma do­ing just what she liked;
highly es­teem­ing Miss Taylor’s judg­ment, but dir­ec­ted chiefly by her own.
The real evils, in­deed, of Emma’s situ­ation were the power of hav­ing rather too much her own way, and a dis­pos­i­tion to think a little too well of her­self;
these were the dis­ad­vant­ages which threatened al­loy to her many en­joy­ments.
The danger, however, was at present so un­per­ceived, that they did not by any means rank as mis­for­tunes with her.
Sor­row came — a gentle sor­row — but not at all in the shape of any dis­agree­able con­scious­ness.
— Miss Taylor mar­ried. It was Miss Taylor’s loss which first brought grief.
It was on the wed­ding-day of this be­loved friend that Emma first sat in mourn­ful thought of any con­tinu­ance.
The wed­ding over, and the bride-people gone, her fath­er and her­self were left to dine to­geth­er,
with no pro­spect of a third to cheer a long even­ing.
Her fath­er com­posed him­self to sleep after din­ner, as usu­al, and she had then only to sit and think of what she had lost.
The event had every prom­ise of hap­pi­ness for her friend.
Mr. We­st­on was a man of un­ex­cep­tion­able char­ac­ter, easy for­tune, suit­able age, and pleas­ant man­ners;
and there was some sat­is­fac­tion in con­sid­er­ing with what self-deny­ing, gen­er­ous friend­ship she had al­ways wished and pro­moted the match;
but it was a black morn­ing’s work for her. The want of Miss Taylor would be felt every hour of every day.
She re­called her past kind­ness — the kind­ness, the af­fec­tion of six­teen years
— how she had taught and how she had played with her from five years old — how she had de­voted all her powers to at­tach and amuse her in health
— and how nursed her through the vari­ous ill­nesses of child­hood.
A large debt of grat­it­ude was ow­ing here; but the in­ter­course of the last sev­en years, the equal foot­ing and per­fect un­re­serve
which had soon fol­lowed Isa­bella’s mar­riage, on their be­ing left to each oth­er, was yet a dear­er, ten­der­er re­col­lec­tion.
She had been a friend and com­pan­ion such as few pos­sessed:
in­tel­li­gent, well-in­formed, use­ful, gentle, know­ing all the ways of the fam­ily,
in­ter­ested in all its con­cerns, and pe­cu­li­arly in­ter­ested in her­self, in every pleas­ure, every scheme of hers
— one to whom she could speak every thought as it arose, and who had such an af­fec­tion for her as could nev­er find fault.
How was she to bear the change? — It was true that her friend was go­ing only half a mile from them;
but Emma was aware that great must be the dif­fer­ence between a Mrs. We­st­on, only half a mile from them, and a Miss Taylor in the house;
and with all her ad­vant­ages, nat­ur­al and do­mest­ic, she was now in great danger of suf­fer­ing from in­tel­lec­tu­al solitude.
She dearly loved her fath­er, but he was no com­pan­ion for her. He could not meet her in con­ver­sa­tion, ra­tion­al or play­ful.
The evil of the ac­tu­al dis­par­ity in their ages (and Mr. Wood­house had not mar­ried early)
was much in­creased by his con­sti­tu­tion and habits;
for hav­ing been a va­le­tu­din­ari­an all his life, without activ­ity of mind or body, he was a much older man in ways than in years;
and though every­where be­loved for the friend­li­ness of his heart and his ami­able tem­per, his tal­ents could not have re­com­men­ded him at any time.
Her sis­ter, though com­par­at­ively but little re­moved by mat­ri­mony,
be­ing settled in Lon­don, only six­teen miles off, was much bey­ond her daily reach;
and many a long Oc­to­ber and Novem­ber even­ing must be struggled through at Hart­field,
be­fore Christ­mas brought the next vis­it from Isa­bella and her hus­band, and their little chil­dren, to fill the house, and give her pleas­ant so­ci­ety again.
High­bury, the large and pop­u­lous vil­lage, al­most amount­ing to a town,
to which Hart­field, in spite of its sep­ar­ate lawn, and shrub­ber­ies, and name, did really be­long, af­forded her no equals.
The Wood­houses were first in con­sequence there. All looked up to them.
She had many ac­quaint­ance in the place, for her fath­er was uni­ver­sally civil,
but not one among them who could be ac­cep­ted in lieu of Miss Taylor for even half a day.
It was a mel­an­choly change; and Emma could not but sigh over it, and wish for im­possible things, till her fath­er awoke, and made it ne­ces­sary to be cheer­ful.
His spir­its re­quired sup­port. He was a nervous man, eas­ily de­pressed;
fond of every body that he was used to, and hat­ing to part with them; hat­ing change of every kind.
Mat­ri­mony, as the ori­gin of change, was al­ways dis­agree­able;
and he was by no means yet re­con­ciled to his own daugh­ter’s mar­ry­ing, nor could ever speak of her but with com­pas­sion,
though it had been en­tirely a match of af­fec­tion, when he was now ob­liged to part with Miss Taylor too;
and from his habits of gentle selfish­ness, and of be­ing nev­er able to sup­pose that oth­er people could feel dif­fer­ently from him­self,
he was very much dis­posed to think Miss Taylor had done as sad a thing for her­self as for them,
and would have been a great deal hap­pi­er if she had spent all the rest of her life at Hart­field.
Emma smiled and chat­ted as cheer­fully as she could, to keep him from such thoughts;
but when tea came, it was im­possible for him not to say ex­actly as he had said at din­ner,
“Poor Miss Taylor! — I wish she were here again. What a pity it is that Mr. We­st­on ever thought of her!”
“I can­not agree with you, papa; you know I can­not.
Mr. We­st­on is such a good-hu­moured, pleas­ant, ex­cel­lent man, that he thor­oughly de­serves a good wife;
— and you would not have had Miss Taylor live with us for ever,
and bear all my odd hu­mours, when she might have a house of her own?”
“A house of her own! — But where is the ad­vant­age of a house of her own? This is three times as large.
— And you have nev­er any odd hu­mours, my dear.”
“How of­ten we shall be go­ing to see them, and they com­ing to see us! — We shall be al­ways meet­ing!
We must be­gin; we must go and pay wed­ding vis­it very soon.”
“My dear, how am I to get so far? Ran­dalls is such a dis­tance. I could not walk half so far.”
“No, papa, nobody thought of your walk­ing. We must go in the car­riage, to be sure.”
“The car­riage! But James will not like to put the horses to for such a little way;
— and where are the poor horses to be while we are pay­ing our vis­it?”
“They are to be put into Mr. We­st­on’s stable, papa.
You know we have settled all that already. We talked it all over with Mr. We­st­on last night.
And as for James, you may be very sure he will al­ways like go­ing to Ran­dalls, be­cause of his daugh­ter’s be­ing house­maid there.
I only doubt wheth­er he will ever take us any­where else. That was your do­ing, papa.
You got Han­nah that good place. Nobody thought of Han­nah till you men­tioned her — James is so ob­liged to you!”
“I am very glad I did think of her. It was very lucky, for I would not have had poor James think him­self slighted upon any ac­count;
and I am sure she will make a very good ser­vant: she is a civil, pretty-spoken girl; I have a great opin­ion of her.
Whenev­er I see her, she al­ways curt­seys and asks me how I do, in a very pretty man­ner;
and when you have had her here to do nee­dle­work, I ob­serve she al­ways turns the lock of the door the right way and nev­er bangs it.
I am sure she will be an ex­cel­lent ser­vant; and it will be a great com­fort to poor Miss Taylor to have some­body about her that she is used to see.
Whenev­er James goes over to see his daugh­ter, you know, she will be hear­ing of us. He will be able to tell her how we all are.”

Jane Austen
Emma
Zweisprachige Ausgabe
Übersetzt von Horst Höckendorf

Dies ist ein interaktives E-Book. Klicken Sie auf den Text, um die Übersetzung einzublenden.

Der Originaltext ist gemeinfrei. Die Rechte für die synchronisierte zweisprachige Ausgabe und für die von uns in der Übersetzung ergänzten Textpassagen liegen bei Doppeltext.

Die Übersetzung erschien erstmals 1965 im Aufbau Verlag Berlin und Weimar.
Übersetzung © Aufbau Verlag GmbH & Co. KG, Berlin 1965, 2008

Unser Programm umfasst viele weitere zweisprachige Titel. Besuchen Sie www.doppeltext.com, um mehr zu erfahren.

Wir freuen uns auf Ihre Meinung und Kritik.

Doppeltext
Igor Kogan & Tatiana Zelenska
Karwendelstr. 25
D-81369 München
Tel. +49-89-76 75 55 34
www.doppeltext.com
info@doppeltext.com