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Dream Days-Part15_Kenneth Grahame(1859-1932)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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"St. George," said the dragon, "Just tell him, please,--what will

happen after I'm vanquished in the deadlycombat?"



"Well, according to the rules I suppose I shall lead you in

triumph down to the market-place or whatever answers to it," said



St. George.

"Precisely," said the dragon. "And then--"



"And then there'll be shoutings and speeches and things,"

continued St. George. "And I shall explain that you're



converted, and see the error of your ways, and so on."

"Quite so," said the dragon. "And then--?"



"Oh, and then--" said St. George, "why, and then there will be

the usual banquet, I suppose."



"Exactly," said the dragon; "and that's where _I_ come in. Look

here," he continued, addressing the Boy, "I'm bored to death



up here, and no one really appreciates me. I'm going into

Society, I am, through the kindly aid of our friend here, who's



taking such a lot of trouble on my account; and you'll find I've

got all the qualities to endear me to people who entertain! So



now that's all settled, and if you don't mind--I'm an old-

fashioned fellow--don't want to turn you out, but--"



"Remember, you'll have to do your proper share of the fighting,

dragon!" said St. George, as he took the hint and rose to go; "I



mean ramping, and breathing fire, and so on!"

"I can RAMP all right," replied the dragon, confidently; "as



to breathing fire, it's surprising how easily one gets out of

practice, but I'll do the best I can. Goodnight!"



They had descended the hill and were almost back in the village

again, when St. George stopped short, "KNEW I had



forgotten something," he said. "There ought to be a Princess.

Terror-stricken and chained to a rock, and all that sort of



thing. Boy, can't you arrange a Princess?"

The Boy was in the middle of a tremendous yawn. "I'm tired to



death," he wailed, "and I CAN'T arrange a Princess, or

anything more, at this time of night. And my mother's sitting



up, and DO stop asking me to arrange more things till

tomorrow!"



Next morning the people began streaming up to the Downs at quite

an early hour, in their Sunday clothes and carrying baskets with



bottle-necks sticking out of them, every one intent on securing

good places for the combat. This was not exactly a simple



matter, for of course it was quite possible that the dragon might

win, and in that case even those who had put their money on



him felt they could hardly expect him to deal with his backers on

a different footing to the rest. Places were chosen, therefore,



with circumspection and with a view to a speedyretreat in case

of emergency; and the front rank was mostlycomposed of boys who



had escaped from parental control and now sprawled and rolled

about on the grass, regardless of the shrill threats and warnings



discharged at them by their anxious mothers behind.

The Boy had secured a good front place, well up towards the cave,



and was feeling as anxious as a stage-manager on a first night.

Could the dragon be depended upon? He might change his mind and



vote the whole performance rot; or else, seeing that the affair

had been so hastily planned, without even a rehearsal, he might



be too nervous to show up. The Boy looked narrowly at the cave,

but it showed no sign of life or occupation. Could the



dragon have made a moon-light flitting?

The higher portions of the ground were now black with sightseers,



and presently a sound of cheering and a waving of handkerchiefs

told that something was visible to them which the Boy, far up



towards the dragon-end of the line as he was, could not yet see.

A minute more and St. George's red plumes topped the hill, as the



Saint rode slowly forth on the great level space which stretched

up to the grim mouth of the cave. Very gallant and beautiful he



looked, on his tall war-horse, his golden armour glancing in the

sun, his great spear held erect, the little white pennon,



crimson-crossed, fluttering at its point. He drew rein and

remained motionless. The lines of spectators began to give back



a little, nervously; and even the boys in front stopped pulling

hair and cuffing each other, and leaned forward expectant.



"Now then, dragon!" muttered the Boy impatiently, fidgeting where

he sat. He need not have distressed himself, had he only known.



The dramatic possibilities of the thing had tickled the dragon

immensely, and he had been up from an early hour, preparing for



his first public appearance with as much heartiness as if the

years had run backwards, and he had been again a little



dragonlet, playing with his sisters on the floor of their

mother's cave, at the game of saints-and-dragons, in which the






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