章节正文
It would be but to know the sign of Me - not to know me myself. it
would be no better than if I were to take this emerald out of my
crown and give it to you to take home with you, and you were to
call it me, and talk to it as if it heard and saw and loved you.
Much good that would do you, Curdie! No; you must do what you can
to know me, and if you do, you will. You shall see me again in
very different circumstances from these, and, I will tell you so
much, it may be in a very different shape. But come now, I will
lead you out of this cavern; my good Joan will be getting too
anxious about you. One word more: you will allow that the men knew
little what they were talking about this morning, when they told
all those tales of Old Mother Wotherwop; but did it occur to you to
think how it was they fell to talking about me at all? It was
because I came to them; I was beside them all the time they were
talking about me, though they were far enough from knowing it, and
had very little besides foolishness to say.'
As she spoke she turned and led the way from the cavern, which, as
if a door had been closed, sank into absoluteblackness behind
them. And now they saw nothing more of the lady except the green
star, which again seemed a good distance in front of them, and to
which they came no nearer, although following it at a quick pace
through the mountain. Such was their confidence in her guidance,
however, and so fearless were they in consequence, that they felt
their way neither with hand nor foot, but walked straight on
through the pitch-dark galleries. When at length the night of the
upper world looked in at the mouth of the mine, the green light
seemed to lose its way among the stars, and they saw it no more.
Out they came into the cool, blessed night. It was very late, and
only starlight. To their surprise, three paces away they saw,
seated upon a stone, an old country-woman, in a cloak which they
took for black. When they came close up to it, they saw it was
red.
'Good evening!' said Peter.
'Good evening!' returned the old woman, in a voice as old as
herself.
But Curdie took off his cap and said:
'I am your servant, Princess.'
The old woman replied:
'Come to me in the dove tower tomorrow night, Curdie - alone.'
'I will, ma'am,' said Curdie.
So they parted, and father and son went home to wife and mother -
two persons in one rich, happy woman.
CHAPTER 8
Curdie's Mission
The next night Curdie went home from the mine a little earlier than
usual, to make himself tidy before going to the dove tower. The
princess had not appointed an exact time for him to be there; he
would go as near the time he had gone first as he could. On his
way to the bottom of the hill, he met his father coming up. The
sun was then down, and the warm first of the twilight filled the
evening. He came rather wearily up the hill: the road, he thought,
must have grown steeper in parts since he was Curdie's age. His
back was to the light of the sunset, which closed him all round in
a beautiful setting, and Curdie thought what a grand-looking man
his father was, even when he was tired. It is greed and laziness
and selfishness, not hunger or weariness or cold, that take the
dignity out of a man, and make him look mean.
'Ah, Curdie! There you are!' he said, seeing his son come bounding
along as if it were morning with him and not evening.
'You look tired, Father,' said Curdie.
'Yes, my boy. I'm not so young as you.'
'Nor so old as the princess,' said Curdie.
'Tell me this,' said Peter, 'why do people talk about going
downhill when they begin to get old? It seems to me that then
first they begin to go uphill.'
'You looked to me, Father, when I caught sight of you, as if you
had been climbing the hill all your life, and were soon to get to
the top.'
'Nobody can tell when that will be,' returned Peter. 'We're so
ready to think we're just at the top when it lies miles away. But
I must not keep you, my boy, for you are wanted; and we shall be
anxious to know what the princess says to you- that is, if she will
allow you to tell us.'
'I think she will, for she knows there is nobody more to be trusted
than my father and mother,' said Curdie, with
pride.
And away he shot, and ran, and jumped, and seemed almost to fly
down the long, winding, steep path, until he came to the gate of
the king's house.
There he met an unexpectedobstruction: in the open door stood the
housekeeper, and she seemed to broaden herself out until she almost
filled the doorway.
'So!' she said, 'it's you, is it, young man? You are the person
that comes in and goes out when he pleases, and keeps running up
and down my stairs without ever saying by your leave, or even
wiping his shoes, and always leaves the door open! Don't you know
this is my house?'
'No, I do not,' returned Curdie respectfully. 'You forget, ma'am,
that it is the king's house.'
'That is all the same. The king left it to me to take care of -
and that you shall know!'
'Is the king dead, ma'am, that he has left it to you?' asked
Curdie, half in doubt from the self-assertion of the woman.
'Insolent fellow!' exclaimed the housekeeper. 'Don't you see by my
dress that I am in the king's service?'
'And am I not one of his miners?'
'Ah! that goes for nothing. I am one of his household. You are an
out-of-doors labourer. You are a nobody. You carry a pickaxe. I
carry the keys at my girdle. See!'
'But you must not call one a nobody to whom the king has spoken,'
said Curdie.
'Go along with you!' cried the housekeeper, and would have shut the
door in his face, had she not been afraid that when she stepped
back he would step in ere she could get it in motion, for it was
very heavy and always seemed unwilling to shut. Curdie came a pace
nearer. She lifted the great house key from her side, and
threatened to strike him down with it, calling aloud on Mar and
Whelk and Plout, the menservants under her, to come and help her.
Ere one of them could answer, however, she gave a great shriek and
turned and fled, leaving the door wide open.
Curdie looked behind him, and saw an animal whose gruesome oddity
even he, who knew so many of the strange creatures, two of which
were never the same, that used to live inside the mountain with
their masters the goblins, had never seen equalled. Its eyes were
flaming with anger, but it seemed to be at the housekeeper, for it
came cowering and creeping up and laid its head on the ground at
Curdie's feet. Curdie hardly waited to look at it, however, but
ran into the house, eager to get up the stairs before any of the
men should come to annoy - he had no fear of their preventing him.
Without halt or hindrance, though the passages were nearly dark, he
reached the door of the princess's workroom, and knocked.
'Come in,' said the voice of the princess.
Curdie opened the door - but, to his astonishment, saw no room
there. Could he have opened a wrong door? There was the great
sky, and the stars, and beneath he could see nothing only darkness!
But what was that in the sky, straight in front of him? A great
wheel of fire, turning and turning, and flashing out blue lights!
'Come in, Curdie,' said the voice again.
'I would at once, ma'am,' said Curdie, 'if I were sure I was
standing at your door.'
'Why should you doubt it, Curdie?'
'Because I see neither walls nor floor, only darkness and the great
sky.'
'That is all right, Curdie. Come in.'
Curdie stepped forward at once. He was indeed, for the very crumb
of a moment, tempted to feel before him with his foot; but he saw
that would be to distrust the princess, and a greater rudeness he
could not offer her. So he stepped straight in - I will not say
without a little tremble at the thought of finding no floor beneath
his foot. But that which had need of the floor found it, and his
foot was satisfied.
No sooner was he in than he saw that the great revolving wheel in
the sky was the princess's spinning wheel, near the other end of
the room, turning very fast. He could see no sky or stars any
more, but the wheel was flashing out blue - oh, such lovely
sky-blue light! - and behind it of course sat the princess, but
whether an old woman as thin as a skeleton leaf, or a glorious lady
as young as perfection, he could not tell for the turning and
flashing of the wheel.
'Listen to the wheel,' said the voice which had already grown dear
to Curdie: its very tone was precious like a jewel, not as a jewel,
for no jewel could compare with it in preciousness.
And Curdie listened and listened.
'What is it saying?' asked the voice.
'It is singing,' answered Curdie.
'What is it singing?'
Curdie tried to make out, but thought he could not; for no sooner
had he got hold of something than it vanished again.
Yet he listened, and listened, entranced with delight.
'Thank you, Curdie, said the voice.
'Ma'am,' said Curdie, 'I did try hard for a while, but I could not
make anything of it.'
'Oh yes, you did, and you have been telling it to me! Shall I tell
you again what I told my wheel, and my wheel told you, and you have
just told me without knowing it?'
'Please, ma'am.'
Then the lady began to sing, and her wheel spun an accompaniment to
her song, and the music of the wheel was like the music of an
Aeolian harp blown upon by the wind that bloweth where it listeth.
Oh, the sweet sounds of that spinning wheel! Now they were gold,
now silver, now grass, now palm trees, now ancient cities, now
rubies, now mountain brooks, now peacock's feathers, now clouds,
now snowdrops, and now mid-sea islands. But for the voice that
sang through it all, about that I have no words to tell. It would
make you weep if I were able to tell you what that was like, it was
so beautiful and true and lovely. But this is something like the
words of its song:
The stars are spinning their threads, And the clouds are the dust
that flies, And the suns are weaving them up For the time when the
sleepers shall rise.
The ocean in music rolls, And gems are turning to eyes, And the
trees are gathering souls For the day when the sleepers shall rise.
The weepers are learning to smile, And laughter to glean the sighs;
Burn and bury the care and guile, For the day when the sleepers
shall rise.
oh, the dews and the moths and the daisy red, The larks and the
glimmers and flows! The lilies and sparrows and daily bread, And
the something that nobody knows!
The princess stopped, her wheel stopped, and she laughed. And her
laugh was sweeter than song and wheel; sweeter than running brook
and silver bell; sweeter than joy itself, for the heart of the
laugh was love.
'Come now, Curdie, to this side of my wheel, and you will find me,'
she said; and her laugh seemed sounding on still in the words, as
if they were made of breath that had laughed.
Curdie obeyed, and passed the wheel, and there she stood to receive
him! - fairer than when he saw her last, a little younger still,
and dressed not in green and emeralds, but in pale blue, with a
coronet of silver set with pearls, and slippers covered with opals
that gleamed every colour of the rainbow. It was some time before
Curdie could take his eyes from the marvel of her loveliness.
would be no better than if I were to take this emerald out of my
crown and give it to you to take home with you, and you were to
call it me, and talk to it as if it heard and saw and loved you.
Much good that would do you, Curdie! No; you must do what you can
to know me, and if you do, you will. You shall see me again in
very different circumstances from these, and, I will tell you so
much, it may be in a very different shape. But come now, I will
lead you out of this cavern; my good Joan will be getting too
anxious about you. One word more: you will allow that the men knew
little what they were talking about this morning, when they told
all those tales of Old Mother Wotherwop; but did it occur to you to
think how it was they fell to talking about me at all? It was
because I came to them; I was beside them all the time they were
talking about me, though they were far enough from knowing it, and
had very little besides foolishness to say.'
As she spoke she turned and led the way from the cavern, which, as
if a door had been closed, sank into absoluteblackness behind
them. And now they saw nothing more of the lady except the green
star, which again seemed a good distance in front of them, and to
which they came no nearer, although following it at a quick pace
through the mountain. Such was their confidence in her guidance,
however, and so fearless were they in consequence, that they felt
their way neither with hand nor foot, but walked straight on
through the pitch-dark galleries. When at length the night of the
upper world looked in at the mouth of the mine, the green light
seemed to lose its way among the stars, and they saw it no more.
Out they came into the cool, blessed night. It was very late, and
only starlight. To their surprise, three paces away they saw,
seated upon a stone, an old country-woman, in a cloak which they
took for black. When they came close up to it, they saw it was
red.
'Good evening!' said Peter.
'Good evening!' returned the old woman, in a voice as old as
herself.
But Curdie took off his cap and said:
'I am your servant, Princess.'
The old woman replied:
'Come to me in the dove tower tomorrow night, Curdie - alone.'
'I will, ma'am,' said Curdie.
So they parted, and father and son went home to wife and mother -
two persons in one rich, happy woman.
CHAPTER 8
Curdie's Mission
The next night Curdie went home from the mine a little earlier than
usual, to make himself tidy before going to the dove tower. The
princess had not appointed an exact time for him to be there; he
would go as near the time he had gone first as he could. On his
way to the bottom of the hill, he met his father coming up. The
sun was then down, and the warm first of the twilight filled the
evening. He came rather wearily up the hill: the road, he thought,
must have grown steeper in parts since he was Curdie's age. His
back was to the light of the sunset, which closed him all round in
a beautiful setting, and Curdie thought what a grand-looking man
his father was, even when he was tired. It is greed and laziness
and selfishness, not hunger or weariness or cold, that take the
dignity out of a man, and make him look mean.
'Ah, Curdie! There you are!' he said, seeing his son come bounding
along as if it were morning with him and not evening.
'You look tired, Father,' said Curdie.
'Yes, my boy. I'm not so young as you.'
'Nor so old as the princess,' said Curdie.
'Tell me this,' said Peter, 'why do people talk about going
downhill when they begin to get old? It seems to me that then
first they begin to go uphill.'
'You looked to me, Father, when I caught sight of you, as if you
had been climbing the hill all your life, and were soon to get to
the top.'
'Nobody can tell when that will be,' returned Peter. 'We're so
ready to think we're just at the top when it lies miles away. But
I must not keep you, my boy, for you are wanted; and we shall be
anxious to know what the princess says to you- that is, if she will
allow you to tell us.'
'I think she will, for she knows there is nobody more to be trusted
than my father and mother,' said Curdie, with
pride.
And away he shot, and ran, and jumped, and seemed almost to fly
down the long, winding, steep path, until he came to the gate of
the king's house.
There he met an unexpectedobstruction: in the open door stood the
housekeeper, and she seemed to broaden herself out until she almost
filled the doorway.
'So!' she said, 'it's you, is it, young man? You are the person
that comes in and goes out when he pleases, and keeps running up
and down my stairs without ever saying by your leave, or even
wiping his shoes, and always leaves the door open! Don't you know
this is my house?'
'No, I do not,' returned Curdie respectfully. 'You forget, ma'am,
that it is the king's house.'
'That is all the same. The king left it to me to take care of -
and that you shall know!'
'Is the king dead, ma'am, that he has left it to you?' asked
Curdie, half in doubt from the self-assertion of the woman.
'Insolent fellow!' exclaimed the housekeeper. 'Don't you see by my
dress that I am in the king's service?'
'And am I not one of his miners?'
'Ah! that goes for nothing. I am one of his household. You are an
out-of-doors labourer. You are a nobody. You carry a pickaxe. I
carry the keys at my girdle. See!'
'But you must not call one a nobody to whom the king has spoken,'
said Curdie.
'Go along with you!' cried the housekeeper, and would have shut the
door in his face, had she not been afraid that when she stepped
back he would step in ere she could get it in motion, for it was
very heavy and always seemed unwilling to shut. Curdie came a pace
nearer. She lifted the great house key from her side, and
threatened to strike him down with it, calling aloud on Mar and
Whelk and Plout, the menservants under her, to come and help her.
Ere one of them could answer, however, she gave a great shriek and
turned and fled, leaving the door wide open.
Curdie looked behind him, and saw an animal whose gruesome oddity
even he, who knew so many of the strange creatures, two of which
were never the same, that used to live inside the mountain with
their masters the goblins, had never seen equalled. Its eyes were
flaming with anger, but it seemed to be at the housekeeper, for it
came cowering and creeping up and laid its head on the ground at
Curdie's feet. Curdie hardly waited to look at it, however, but
ran into the house, eager to get up the stairs before any of the
men should come to annoy - he had no fear of their preventing him.
Without halt or hindrance, though the passages were nearly dark, he
reached the door of the princess's workroom, and knocked.
'Come in,' said the voice of the princess.
Curdie opened the door - but, to his astonishment, saw no room
there. Could he have opened a wrong door? There was the great
sky, and the stars, and beneath he could see nothing only darkness!
But what was that in the sky, straight in front of him? A great
wheel of fire, turning and turning, and flashing out blue lights!
'Come in, Curdie,' said the voice again.
'I would at once, ma'am,' said Curdie, 'if I were sure I was
standing at your door.'
'Why should you doubt it, Curdie?'
'Because I see neither walls nor floor, only darkness and the great
sky.'
'That is all right, Curdie. Come in.'
Curdie stepped forward at once. He was indeed, for the very crumb
of a moment, tempted to feel before him with his foot; but he saw
that would be to distrust the princess, and a greater rudeness he
could not offer her. So he stepped straight in - I will not say
without a little tremble at the thought of finding no floor beneath
his foot. But that which had need of the floor found it, and his
foot was satisfied.
No sooner was he in than he saw that the great revolving wheel in
the sky was the princess's spinning wheel, near the other end of
the room, turning very fast. He could see no sky or stars any
more, but the wheel was flashing out blue - oh, such lovely
sky-blue light! - and behind it of course sat the princess, but
whether an old woman as thin as a skeleton leaf, or a glorious lady
as young as perfection, he could not tell for the turning and
flashing of the wheel.
'Listen to the wheel,' said the voice which had already grown dear
to Curdie: its very tone was precious like a jewel, not as a jewel,
for no jewel could compare with it in preciousness.
And Curdie listened and listened.
'What is it saying?' asked the voice.
'It is singing,' answered Curdie.
'What is it singing?'
Curdie tried to make out, but thought he could not; for no sooner
had he got hold of something than it vanished again.
Yet he listened, and listened, entranced with delight.
'Thank you, Curdie, said the voice.
'Ma'am,' said Curdie, 'I did try hard for a while, but I could not
make anything of it.'
'Oh yes, you did, and you have been telling it to me! Shall I tell
you again what I told my wheel, and my wheel told you, and you have
just told me without knowing it?'
'Please, ma'am.'
Then the lady began to sing, and her wheel spun an accompaniment to
her song, and the music of the wheel was like the music of an
Aeolian harp blown upon by the wind that bloweth where it listeth.
Oh, the sweet sounds of that spinning wheel! Now they were gold,
now silver, now grass, now palm trees, now ancient cities, now
rubies, now mountain brooks, now peacock's feathers, now clouds,
now snowdrops, and now mid-sea islands. But for the voice that
sang through it all, about that I have no words to tell. It would
make you weep if I were able to tell you what that was like, it was
so beautiful and true and lovely. But this is something like the
words of its song:
The stars are spinning their threads, And the clouds are the dust
that flies, And the suns are weaving them up For the time when the
sleepers shall rise.
The ocean in music rolls, And gems are turning to eyes, And the
trees are gathering souls For the day when the sleepers shall rise.
The weepers are learning to smile, And laughter to glean the sighs;
Burn and bury the care and guile, For the day when the sleepers
shall rise.
oh, the dews and the moths and the daisy red, The larks and the
glimmers and flows! The lilies and sparrows and daily bread, And
the something that nobody knows!
The princess stopped, her wheel stopped, and she laughed. And her
laugh was sweeter than song and wheel; sweeter than running brook
and silver bell; sweeter than joy itself, for the heart of the
laugh was love.
'Come now, Curdie, to this side of my wheel, and you will find me,'
she said; and her laugh seemed sounding on still in the words, as
if they were made of breath that had laughed.
Curdie obeyed, and passed the wheel, and there she stood to receive
him! - fairer than when he saw her last, a little younger still,
and dressed not in green and emeralds, but in pale blue, with a
coronet of silver set with pearls, and slippers covered with opals
that gleamed every colour of the rainbow. It was some time before
Curdie could take his eyes from the marvel of her loveliness.
- knowing [´nəuiŋ]
a.会意的，心照不宣的 (初中英语单词) - absolute [´æbsəlu:t] a.绝对的 n.绝对 (初中英语单词)
- consequence [´kɔnsikwəns] n.结果；后果；推断 (初中英语单词)
- twilight [´twailait] n.黎明；黄昏 (初中英语单词)
- sunset [´sʌnset] n.日落；晚霞 (初中英语单词)
- hunger [´hʌŋgə] n.饥饿；渴望 (初中英语单词)
- princess [,prin´ses] n.公主；王妃；亲王夫人 (初中英语单词)
- running [´rʌniŋ] a.奔跑的；流动的 (初中英语单词)
- shriek [ʃri:k] v.&n.尖叫(声) (初中英语单词)
- astonishment [ə´stɔniʃmənt] n.吃惊；惊异 (初中英语单词)
- glorious [´glɔ:riəs] a.光荣的；辉煌的 (初中英语单词)
- learning [´lə:niŋ] n.学习；学问；知识 (初中英语单词)
- laughter [´lɑ:ftə] n.笑，笑声 (初中英语单词)
- breath [breθ] n.呼吸；气息 (初中英语单词)
- marvel [´mɑ:vəl] n.令人惊异的事；奇迹 (初中英语单词)
- cavern [´kævən] n.大山洞；大岩洞 (高中英语单词)
- fearless [´fiələs] a.不怕的，无畏的 (高中英语单词)
- seeing [si:iŋ] see的现在分词 n.视觉 (高中英语单词)
- unexpected [ʌniks´pektid] a.突然的；意外的 (高中英语单词)
- saying [´seiŋ, ´sei-iŋ] n.言语；言论；格言 (高中英语单词)
- housekeeper [´haus,ki:pə] n.主妇，女管家 (高中英语单词)
- girdle [´gə:dl] n.腰带 vt.用带束(缠) (高中英语单词)
- motion [´məuʃən] n.手势 vt.打手势 (高中英语单词)
- distrust [dis´trʌst] n.&vt.不信任，怀疑 (高中英语单词)
- finding [´faindiŋ] n.发现物；判断；结果 (高中英语单词)
- spinning [´spiniŋ] n.纺织 a.纺织品的 (高中英语单词)
- skeleton [´skelitən] n.骨骼；骷髅 (高中英语单词)
- perfection [pə´fekʃən] n.完美；极致；熟练 (高中英语单词)
- rainbow [´reinbəu] n.彩虹 (高中英语单词)
- emerald [´emərəld] n.纯绿宝石；翠绿色 (英语四级单词)
- blackness [´blæknis] n.黑色；阴险 (英语四级单词)
- blessed [´blesid] a.享福的；神圣的 (英语四级单词)
- wearily [´wiərili] ad.疲倦地；厌烦地 (英语四级单词)
- setting [´setiŋ] n.安装；排字；布景 (英语四级单词)
- weariness [wiərinis] n.疲倦；厌烦 (英语四级单词)
- respectfully [ris´pektfuli] ad.恭敬地 (英语四级单词)
- unwilling [ʌn´wiliŋ] a.不愿意的；不情愿的 (英语四级单词)
- accompaniment [ə´kʌmpənimənt] n.伴随物；伴奏(唱) (英语四级单词)
- gathering [´gæðəriŋ] n.集会，聚集 (英语四级单词)
- loveliness [´lʌvlinis] n.美丽，可爱 (英语四级单词)
- foolishness [´fu:liʃnis] n.愚蠢 (英语六级单词)
- starlight [´stɑ:lait] n.星光 (英语六级单词)
- selfishness [´selfiʃnis] n.自私；不顾别人 (英语六级单词)
- obstruction [əb´strʌkʃən] n.阻塞；妨碍；障碍物 (英语六级单词)
- broaden [´brɔ:dn] v.(使)变宽；(使)扩大 (英语六级单词)
- calling [´kɔ:liŋ] n.点名；职业；欲望 (英语六级单词)
- hindrance [´hindrəns] n.障碍，妨碍 (英语六级单词)
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章节正文
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