章节正文
They seemed, from their shape and colour, to have eaten and drunk
so much that they might be burned alive without wakening. He
grasped the hand of each in succession,and found two ox hoofs,
three pig hoofs, one concerning which he could not be sure whether
it was the hoof of a donkey or a pony, and one dog's paw. 'A nice
set of people to be about a king!' thought Curdie to himself, and
turned again to his candle hunt. He did at last find two or three
little pieces, and stowed them away in his pockets. They now left
the hall by another door, and entered a short passage, which led
them to the huge kitchen, vaulted and black with smoke. There,
too, the fire was still burning, so that he was able to see a
little of the state of things in this quarter also.
The place was dirty and disorderly. In a recess, on a heap of
brushwood, lay a kitchen-maid, with a table cover around her, and
a skillet in her hand: evidently she too had been drinking. In
another corner lay a page, and Curdie noted how like his dress was
to his own. in the cinders before the hearth were huddled three
dogs and five cats, all fast asleep, while the rats were running
about the floor. Curdie's heart ached to think of the lovely
child-princess living over such a sty. The mine was a paradise to
a palace with such servants in it.
Leaving the kitchen, he got into the region of the sculleries.
There horrible smells were wandering about, like evil spirits that
come forth with the darkness. He lighted a candle - but only to
see ugly sights. Everywhere was filth and disorder. Mangy
turnspit dogs were lying about, and grey rats were gnawing at
refuse in the sinks. It was like a hideous dream. He felt as if
he should never get out of it, and longed for one glimpse of his
mother's poor little kitchen, so clean and bright and airy.
Turning from it at last in miserabledisgust, he almost ran back
through the kitchen, re-entered the hall, and crossed it to another
door.
It opened upon a wider passage leading to an arch in a stately
corridor, all its length lighted by lamps in niches. At the end of
it was a large and beautiful hall, with great pillars. There sat
three men in the royal livery, fast asleep, each in a great
armchair, with his feet on a huge footstool. They looked like
fools dreaming themselves kings; and Lina looked as if she longed
to throttle them. At one side of the hall was the grand staircase,
and they went up.
Everything that now met Curdie's eyes was rich - not glorious like
the splendours of the mountain cavern, but rich and soft - except
where, now and then, some rough old rib of the ancient fortress
came through, hard and discoloured. Now some dark bare arch of
stone, now some rugged and blackened pillar, now some huge beam,
brown with the smoke and dust of centuries, looked like a thistle
in the midst of daisies, or a rock in a smooth lawn.
They wandered about a good while, again and again finding
themselves where they had been before. Gradually, however, Curdie
was gaining some idea of the place. By and by Lina began to look
frightened, and as they went on Curdie saw that she looked more and
more frightened. Now, by this time he had come to understand that
what made her look frightened was always the fear of frightening,
and he therefore concluded they must be drawing nigh to somebody.
At last, in a gorgeously painted gallery, he saw a curtain of
crimson, and on the curtain a royal crown wrought in silks and
stones. He felt sure this must be the king's chamber, and it was
here he was wanted; or, if it was not the place he was bound for,
something would meet him and turn him aside; for he had come to
think that so long as a man wants to do right he may go where he
can: when he can go no farther, then it is not the way. 'Only,'
said his father, in assenting to the theory, 'he must really want
to do right, and not merely fancy he does. He must want it with
his heart and will, and not with his rag of a tongue.'
So he gently lifted the corner of the curtain, and there behind it
was a half-open door. He entered, and the moment he was in, Lina
stretched herself along the threshold between the curtain and the
door.
CHAPTER 19
The King's Chamber
He found himself in a large room, dimly lighted by a silver lamp
that hung from the ceiling. Far at the other end was a great bed,
surrounded with dark heavy curtains. He went softly toward it, his
heart beating fast. It was a dreadful thing to be alone in the
king's chamber at the dead of night. To gain courage he had to
remind himself of the beautiful princess who had sent him.
But when he was about halfway to the bed, a figure appeared from
the farther side of it, and came towards him, with a hand raised
warningly. He stood still. The light was dim, and he could
distinguish little more than the outline of a young girl. But
though the form he saw was much taller than the princess he
remembered, he never doubted it was she. For one thing, he knew
that most girls would have been frightened to see him there in the
dead of the night, but like a true princess, and the princess he
used to know, she walked straight on to meet him. As she came she
lowered the hand she had lifted, and laid the forefinger of it upon
her lips. Nearer and nearer, quite near, close up to him she came,
then stopped, and stood a moment looking at him.
'You are Curdie,' she said.
'And you are the Princess Irene,' he returned.
'Then we know each other still,' she said, with a sad smile of
pleasure. 'You will help me.'
'That I will,' answered Curdie. He did not say, 'If I can';
for he knew that what he was sent to do, that he could do. 'May I
kiss your hand, little Princess?'
She was only between nine and ten, though indeed she looked several
years older, and her eyes almost those of a grown woman, for she
had had terrible trouble of late.
She held out her hand.
'I am not the little princess any more. I have grown up since I
saw you last, Mr Miner.'
The smile which accompanied the words had in it a strange mixture
of playfulness and sadness.
'So I see, Miss Princess,' returned Curdie; 'and therefore, being
more of a princess, you are the more my princess. Here I am, sent
by your great-great-grandmother, to be your servant. May I ask why
you are up so late, Princess?'
'Because my father wakes so frightened, and I don't know what he
would do if he didn't find me by his bedside. There! he's waking
now.'
She darted off to the side of the bed she had come from.
Curdie stood where he was.
A voice altogetherunlike what he remembered of the mighty, noble
king on his white horse came from the bed, thin, feeble, hollow,
and husky, and in tone like that of a petulant child:
'I will not, I will not. I am a king, and I will be a king. I
hate you and despise you, and you shall not torture me!'
'Never mind them, Father dear,' said the princess. 'I am here, and
they shan't touch you. They dare not, you know, so long as you
defy them.'
'They want my crown, darling; and I can't give them my crown, can
I? For what is a king without his crown?'
'They shall never have your crown, my king,' said Irene. 'Here it
is - all safe. I am watching it for you.'
Curdie drew near the bed on the other side. There lay the grand
old king - he looked grand still, and twenty years older. His body
was pillowed high; his beard descended long and white over the
crimson coverlid; and his crown, its diamonds and emeralds gleaming
in the twilight of the curtains, lay in front of him, his long thin
old hands folded round it, and the ends of his beard straying among
the lovely stones. His face was like that of a man who had died
fighting nobly; but one thing made it dreadful: his eyes, while
they moved about as if searching in this direction and in that,
looked more dead than his face. He saw neither his daughter nor
his crown: it was the voice of the one and the touch of the other
that comforted him. He kept murmuring what seemed words, but was
unintelligible to Curdie, although, to judge from the look of
Irene's face, she learned and concluded from it.
By degrees his voice sank away and the murmuring ceased, although
still his lips moved. Thus lay the old king on his bed, slumbering
with his crown between his hands; on one side of him stood a lovely
little maiden, with blue eyes, and brown hair going a little back
from her temples, as if blown by a wind that no one felt but
herself; and on the other a stalwart young miner, with his mattock
over his shoulder. Stranger sight still was Lina lying along the
threshold - only nobody saw her just then.
A moment more and the king's lips ceased to move. His breathing
had grown regular and quiet. The princess gave a sigh of relief,
and came round to Curdie.
'We can talk a little now,' she said, leading him toward the middle
of the room. 'My father will sleep now till the doctor wakes him
to give him his medicine. It is not really medicine, though, but
wine. Nothing but that, the doctor says, could have kept him so
long alive. He always comes in the middle of the night to give it
him with his own hands. But it makes me cry to see him wake up
when so nicely asleep.'
'What sort of man is your doctor?' asked Curdie.
'Oh, such a dear, good, kind gentleman!' replied the princess. 'He
speaks so softly, and is so sorry for his dear king! He will be
here presently, and you shall see for yourself. You will like him
very much.'
'Has your king-father been long ill?' asked Curdie.
'A whole year now,' she replied. 'Did you not know? That's how
your mother never got the red petticoat my father promised her.
The lord chancellor told me that not only Gwyntystorm but the whole
land was mourning over the illness of the good man.'
Now Curdie himself had not heard a word of His Majesty's illness,
and had no ground for believing that a single soul in any place he
had visited on his journey had heard of it. Moreover, although
mention had been made of His Majesty again and again in his hearing
since he came to Gwyntystorm, never once had he heard an allusion
to the state of his health. And now it dawned upon him also that
he had never heard the least expression of love to him. But just
for the time he thought it better to say nothing on either point.
'Does the king wander like this every night?' he asked.
'Every night,' answered Irene, shaking her head mournfully. 'That
is why I never go to bed at night. He is better during the day -
a little, and then I sleep - in the dressing room there, to be with
him in a moment if he should call me. It is so sad he should have
only me and not my mamma! A princess is nothing to a queen!'
'I wish he would like me,' said Curdie, 'for then I might watch by
him at night, and let you go to bed, Princess.'
'Don't you know then?' returned Irene, in wonder. 'How was it you
came? Ah! You said my grandmother sent you. But I thought you
knew that he wanted you.'
And again she opened wide her blue stars.
'Not I,' said Curdie, also bewildered, but very glad.
'He used to be constantlysaying - he was not so ill then as he is
now - that he wished he had you about him.'
'And I never to know it!' said Curdie, with displeasure.
'The master of the horse told papa's own secretary that he had
written to the miner-general to find you and send you up; but the
miner-general wrote back to the master of the horse, and he told
the secretary, and the secretary told my father, that they had
searched every mine in the kingdom and could hear nothing of you.
My father gave a great sigh, and said he feared the goblins had got
you, after all, and your father and mother were dead of grief. And
he has never mentioned you since, except when wandering. I cried
very much. But one of my grandmother's pigeons with its white wing
flashed a message to me through the window one day, and then I knew
that my Curdie wasn't eaten by the goblins, for my grandmother
so much that they might be burned alive without wakening. He
grasped the hand of each in succession,and found two ox hoofs,
three pig hoofs, one concerning which he could not be sure whether
it was the hoof of a donkey or a pony, and one dog's paw. 'A nice
set of people to be about a king!' thought Curdie to himself, and
turned again to his candle hunt. He did at last find two or three
little pieces, and stowed them away in his pockets. They now left
the hall by another door, and entered a short passage, which led
them to the huge kitchen, vaulted and black with smoke. There,
too, the fire was still burning, so that he was able to see a
little of the state of things in this quarter also.
The place was dirty and disorderly. In a recess, on a heap of
brushwood, lay a kitchen-maid, with a table cover around her, and
a skillet in her hand: evidently she too had been drinking. In
another corner lay a page, and Curdie noted how like his dress was
to his own. in the cinders before the hearth were huddled three
dogs and five cats, all fast asleep, while the rats were running
about the floor. Curdie's heart ached to think of the lovely
child-princess living over such a sty. The mine was a paradise to
a palace with such servants in it.
Leaving the kitchen, he got into the region of the sculleries.
There horrible smells were wandering about, like evil spirits that
come forth with the darkness. He lighted a candle - but only to
see ugly sights. Everywhere was filth and disorder. Mangy
turnspit dogs were lying about, and grey rats were gnawing at
refuse in the sinks. It was like a hideous dream. He felt as if
he should never get out of it, and longed for one glimpse of his
mother's poor little kitchen, so clean and bright and airy.
Turning from it at last in miserabledisgust, he almost ran back
through the kitchen, re-entered the hall, and crossed it to another
door.
It opened upon a wider passage leading to an arch in a stately
corridor, all its length lighted by lamps in niches. At the end of
it was a large and beautiful hall, with great pillars. There sat
three men in the royal livery, fast asleep, each in a great
armchair, with his feet on a huge footstool. They looked like
fools dreaming themselves kings; and Lina looked as if she longed
to throttle them. At one side of the hall was the grand staircase,
and they went up.
Everything that now met Curdie's eyes was rich - not glorious like
the splendours of the mountain cavern, but rich and soft - except
where, now and then, some rough old rib of the ancient fortress
came through, hard and discoloured. Now some dark bare arch of
stone, now some rugged and blackened pillar, now some huge beam,
brown with the smoke and dust of centuries, looked like a thistle
in the midst of daisies, or a rock in a smooth lawn.
They wandered about a good while, again and again finding
themselves where they had been before. Gradually, however, Curdie
was gaining some idea of the place. By and by Lina began to look
frightened, and as they went on Curdie saw that she looked more and
more frightened. Now, by this time he had come to understand that
what made her look frightened was always the fear of frightening,
and he therefore concluded they must be drawing nigh to somebody.
At last, in a gorgeously painted gallery, he saw a curtain of
crimson, and on the curtain a royal crown wrought in silks and
stones. He felt sure this must be the king's chamber, and it was
here he was wanted; or, if it was not the place he was bound for,
something would meet him and turn him aside; for he had come to
think that so long as a man wants to do right he may go where he
can: when he can go no farther, then it is not the way. 'Only,'
said his father, in assenting to the theory, 'he must really want
to do right, and not merely fancy he does. He must want it with
his heart and will, and not with his rag of a tongue.'
So he gently lifted the corner of the curtain, and there behind it
was a half-open door. He entered, and the moment he was in, Lina
stretched herself along the threshold between the curtain and the
door.
CHAPTER 19
The King's Chamber
He found himself in a large room, dimly lighted by a silver lamp
that hung from the ceiling. Far at the other end was a great bed,
surrounded with dark heavy curtains. He went softly toward it, his
heart beating fast. It was a dreadful thing to be alone in the
king's chamber at the dead of night. To gain courage he had to
remind himself of the beautiful princess who had sent him.
But when he was about halfway to the bed, a figure appeared from
the farther side of it, and came towards him, with a hand raised
warningly. He stood still. The light was dim, and he could
distinguish little more than the outline of a young girl. But
though the form he saw was much taller than the princess he
remembered, he never doubted it was she. For one thing, he knew
that most girls would have been frightened to see him there in the
dead of the night, but like a true princess, and the princess he
used to know, she walked straight on to meet him. As she came she
lowered the hand she had lifted, and laid the forefinger of it upon
her lips. Nearer and nearer, quite near, close up to him she came,
then stopped, and stood a moment looking at him.
'You are Curdie,' she said.
'And you are the Princess Irene,' he returned.
'Then we know each other still,' she said, with a sad smile of
pleasure. 'You will help me.'
'That I will,' answered Curdie. He did not say, 'If I can';
for he knew that what he was sent to do, that he could do. 'May I
kiss your hand, little Princess?'
She was only between nine and ten, though indeed she looked several
years older, and her eyes almost those of a grown woman, for she
had had terrible trouble of late.
She held out her hand.
'I am not the little princess any more. I have grown up since I
saw you last, Mr Miner.'
The smile which accompanied the words had in it a strange mixture
of playfulness and sadness.
'So I see, Miss Princess,' returned Curdie; 'and therefore, being
more of a princess, you are the more my princess. Here I am, sent
by your great-great-grandmother, to be your servant. May I ask why
you are up so late, Princess?'
'Because my father wakes so frightened, and I don't know what he
would do if he didn't find me by his bedside. There! he's waking
now.'
She darted off to the side of the bed she had come from.
Curdie stood where he was.
A voice altogetherunlike what he remembered of the mighty, noble
king on his white horse came from the bed, thin, feeble, hollow,
and husky, and in tone like that of a petulant child:
'I will not, I will not. I am a king, and I will be a king. I
hate you and despise you, and you shall not torture me!'
'Never mind them, Father dear,' said the princess. 'I am here, and
they shan't touch you. They dare not, you know, so long as you
defy them.'
'They want my crown, darling; and I can't give them my crown, can
I? For what is a king without his crown?'
'They shall never have your crown, my king,' said Irene. 'Here it
is - all safe. I am watching it for you.'
Curdie drew near the bed on the other side. There lay the grand
old king - he looked grand still, and twenty years older. His body
was pillowed high; his beard descended long and white over the
crimson coverlid; and his crown, its diamonds and emeralds gleaming
in the twilight of the curtains, lay in front of him, his long thin
old hands folded round it, and the ends of his beard straying among
the lovely stones. His face was like that of a man who had died
fighting nobly; but one thing made it dreadful: his eyes, while
they moved about as if searching in this direction and in that,
looked more dead than his face. He saw neither his daughter nor
his crown: it was the voice of the one and the touch of the other
that comforted him. He kept murmuring what seemed words, but was
unintelligible to Curdie, although, to judge from the look of
Irene's face, she learned and concluded from it.
By degrees his voice sank away and the murmuring ceased, although
still his lips moved. Thus lay the old king on his bed, slumbering
with his crown between his hands; on one side of him stood a lovely
little maiden, with blue eyes, and brown hair going a little back
from her temples, as if blown by a wind that no one felt but
herself; and on the other a stalwart young miner, with his mattock
over his shoulder. Stranger sight still was Lina lying along the
threshold - only nobody saw her just then.
A moment more and the king's lips ceased to move. His breathing
had grown regular and quiet. The princess gave a sigh of relief,
and came round to Curdie.
'We can talk a little now,' she said, leading him toward the middle
of the room. 'My father will sleep now till the doctor wakes him
to give him his medicine. It is not really medicine, though, but
wine. Nothing but that, the doctor says, could have kept him so
long alive. He always comes in the middle of the night to give it
him with his own hands. But it makes me cry to see him wake up
when so nicely asleep.'
'What sort of man is your doctor?' asked Curdie.
'Oh, such a dear, good, kind gentleman!' replied the princess. 'He
speaks so softly, and is so sorry for his dear king! He will be
here presently, and you shall see for yourself. You will like him
very much.'
'Has your king-father been long ill?' asked Curdie.
'A whole year now,' she replied. 'Did you not know? That's how
your mother never got the red petticoat my father promised her.
The lord chancellor told me that not only Gwyntystorm but the whole
land was mourning over the illness of the good man.'
Now Curdie himself had not heard a word of His Majesty's illness,
and had no ground for believing that a single soul in any place he
had visited on his journey had heard of it. Moreover, although
mention had been made of His Majesty again and again in his hearing
since he came to Gwyntystorm, never once had he heard an allusion
to the state of his health. And now it dawned upon him also that
he had never heard the least expression of love to him. But just
for the time he thought it better to say nothing on either point.
'Does the king wander like this every night?' he asked.
'Every night,' answered Irene, shaking her head mournfully. 'That
is why I never go to bed at night. He is better during the day -
a little, and then I sleep - in the dressing room there, to be with
him in a moment if he should call me. It is so sad he should have
only me and not my mamma! A princess is nothing to a queen!'
'I wish he would like me,' said Curdie, 'for then I might watch by
him at night, and let you go to bed, Princess.'
'Don't you know then?' returned Irene, in wonder. 'How was it you
came? Ah! You said my grandmother sent you. But I thought you
knew that he wanted you.'
And again she opened wide her blue stars.
'Not I,' said Curdie, also bewildered, but very glad.
'He used to be constantlysaying - he was not so ill then as he is
now - that he wished he had you about him.'
'And I never to know it!' said Curdie, with displeasure.
'The master of the horse told papa's own secretary that he had
written to the miner-general to find you and send you up; but the
miner-general wrote back to the master of the horse, and he told
the secretary, and the secretary told my father, that they had
searched every mine in the kingdom and could hear nothing of you.
My father gave a great sigh, and said he feared the goblins had got
you, after all, and your father and mother were dead of grief. And
he has never mentioned you since, except when wandering. I cried
very much. But one of my grandmother's pigeons with its white wing
flashed a message to me through the window one day, and then I knew
that my Curdie wasn't eaten by the goblins, for my grandmother
- evidently [´evidəntli]
ad.明显地 (初中英语单词) - paradise [´pærədais] n.天堂；乐园 (初中英语单词)
- horrible [´hɔrəbəl] a.可怕的；恐怖的 (初中英语单词)
- glimpse [glimps] n.&v.瞥见 (初中英语单词)
- miserable [´mizərəbəl] a.悲惨的；可怜的 (初中英语单词)
- disgust [dis´gʌst] n.厌恶 vt.令(人)作呕 (初中英语单词)
- glorious [´glɔ:riəs] a.光荣的；辉煌的 (初中英语单词)
- therefore [´ðeəfɔ:] ad.&conj.因此；所以 (初中英语单词)
- gallery [´gæləri] n.画廊；美术馆；长廊 (初中英语单词)
- wrought [rɔ:t] work 的过去式(分词) (初中英语单词)
- gently [´dʒentli] ad.温和地；静静地 (初中英语单词)
- softly [´sɔftli] ad.软化地；柔和地 (初中英语单词)
- dreadful [´dredful] a.可怕的；讨厌的 (初中英语单词)
- princess [,prin´ses] n.公主；王妃；亲王夫人 (初中英语单词)
- outline [´autlain] n.外形 vt.画出...轮廓 (初中英语单词)
- altogether [,ɔ:ltə´geðə] ad.完全；总而言之 (初中英语单词)
- unlike [,ʌn´laik] a.不同的 prep.不象... (初中英语单词)
- feeble [´fi:bəl] a.虚弱的，无力的 (初中英语单词)
- despise [di´spaiz] vt.轻视，藐视 (初中英语单词)
- torture [´tɔ:tʃə] n.&vt.折磨；痛苦；拷问 (初中英语单词)
- darling [´dɑ:liŋ] n.爱人 a.亲爱的 (初中英语单词)
- twilight [´twailait] n.黎明；黄昏 (初中英语单词)
- maiden [´meidn] n.少女 a.未婚的 (初中英语单词)
- nicely [naisli] ad.恰好地；谨慎地 (初中英语单词)
- presently [´prezəntli] ad.不久；目前 (初中英语单词)
- mourning [´mɔ:niŋ] n.悲伤；治丧；戴孝 (初中英语单词)
- illness [´ilnis] n.生病，不健康，疾病 (初中英语单词)
- moreover [mɔ:´rəuvə] ad.再者，此外，而且 (初中英语单词)
- majesty [´mædʒisti] n.壮丽；崇高；尊严 (初中英语单词)
- wander [´wɔndə, ´wɑ:n:dər] v.徘徊；流浪 (初中英语单词)
- grandmother [´græn,mʌðə] n.(外)祖母 (初中英语单词)
- constantly [´kɔnstəntli] ad.经常地；不断地 (初中英语单词)
- concerning [kən´sə:niŋ] prep.关于 (高中英语单词)
- donkey [´dɔŋki] n.驴子；蠢人；顽固的人 (高中英语单词)
- recess [ri´ses] n.休息；休会 (高中英语单词)
- hearth [hɑ:θ] n.炉边；家庭(生活) (高中英语单词)
- disorder [dis´ɔ:də] n.杂乱 vt.扰乱 (高中英语单词)
- hideous [´hidiəs] a.丑陋的，可怕的 (高中英语单词)
- cavern [´kævən] n.大山洞；大岩洞 (高中英语单词)
- rugged [´rʌgid] a.不平的；粗犷的 (高中英语单词)
- pillar [´pilə] n.支柱 vt.用柱支持 (高中英语单词)
- chamber [´tʃeimbə] n.房间；议院；会议室 (高中英语单词)
- threshold [´θreʃhəuld] n.门槛；入门；开端 (高中英语单词)
- mighty [´maiti] a.强有力的 ad.很 (高中英语单词)
- learned [´lə:nid] a.有学问的，博学的 (高中英语单词)
- chancellor [´tʃɑ:nsələ] n.首相；大臣 (高中英语单词)
- saying [´seiŋ, ´sei-iŋ] n.言语；言论；格言 (高中英语单词)
- livery [´livəri] a.有肝病征象的 (英语四级单词)
- drawing [´drɔ:iŋ] n.画图；制图；图样 (英语四级单词)
- bedside [´bedsaid] n.床边 a.护理的 (英语四级单词)
- petticoat [´petikəut] n.裙子 a.女性的 (英语四级单词)
- beating [´bi:tiŋ] n.敲；搅打；失败 (英语六级单词)
- forefinger [´fɔ:,fiŋgə] n.食指 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
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