版权信息

书名：经典名著英汉对照（安徒生童话+茶花女+老人与海+莎士比亚）

作者：（丹麦）安徒生，（法）小仲马（Dumas，A.），（美）海明威（Hemingway，E.），（英）兰姆（Lamb，C.），（英）兰姆（Lamb，M.）

出版社：中国国际广播出版社

出版时间：2012年1月第1版第1次印刷

ISBN：978-7-5078-3418-5，978-7-5078-3407-9，978-7-5078-3419-2，978-7-5078-3406-2

- 安徒生童话选集：英汉对照

- 冷杉树

- 小美人鱼

- 野天鹅

- 丑小鸭

- 卖火柴的小女孩

- 小克劳斯和大克劳斯

- 勇敢的锡兵

- 拇指姑娘

- 夜莺

- 冰雪女王（七个故事）

- 第一个故事 镜子和碎片

- 第二个故事 一个小男孩和一个小女孩

- 第三个故事 女魔法师的花园

- 第四个故事 王子和公主

- 第五个故事 小女匪

- 第六个故事 拉普兰女人和芬兰女人

- 第七个故事 冰雪女王的宫殿和最后的结局

- 老头子做的事总是对的

- 打火匣

- 会飞的箱子

- The Fir Tree

- The Little Mermaid

- The Wild Swans

- The Ugly Duckling

- The Little Match Girl

- Little Claus and Big Claus

- The Brave Tin Soldier

- Little Tiny or Thumbelina

- The Nightingale

- The Snow Queen In Seven Stories

- Story the First Which Describes a Looking-Glass and the Broken Fragments

- Second Story A Little Boy and a Little Girl

- Third Story The Flower Garden of the Woman Who Could Conjure

- Fourth Story The Prince and Princess

- Fifth Story Little Robber-Girl

- Sixth Story The Lapland Woman and the Finland Woman

- Seventh Story Of the Palace of the Snow Queen and What Happened There At Last

- What the Old Man Does Is Always Right

- The Tinder-Box

- The Flying Trunk

- 茶花女：汉英对照

- 第一章

- 第二章

- 第三章

- 第四章

- 第五章

- 第六章

- 第七章

- 第八章

- 第九章

- 第十章

- 第十一章

- 第十二章

- 第十三章

- 第十四章

- 第十五章

- 第十六章

- 第十七章

- 第十八章

- 第十九章

- 第二十章

- 第二十一章

- 第二十二章

- 第二十三章

- 第二十四章

- 第二十五章

- 第二十六章

- 第二十七章

- Chapter 1

- Chapter 2

- Chapter 3

- Chapter 4

- Chapter 5

- Chapter 6

- Chapter 7

- Chapter 8

- Chapter 9

- Chapter 10

- Chapter 11

- Chapter 12

- Chapter 13

- Chapter 14

- Chapter 15

- Chapter 16

- Chapter 17

- Chapter 18

- Chapter 19

- Chapter 20

- Chapter 21

- Chapter 22

- Chapter 23

- Chapter 24

- Chapter 25

- Chapter 26

- Chapter 27

- 老人与海——汉英对照

- 老人与海

- The Old Man and the Sea

- 莎士比亚故事集：英汉对照

- 序言

- 暴风雨

- 仲夏夜之梦

- 冬天的故事

- 无事生非

- 皆大欢喜

- 威尼斯商人

- 辛白林

- 李尔王

- 麦克白

- 第十二夜

- 罗密欧与朱丽叶

- 哈姆雷特

- 奥赛罗

- Tales from Shakespeare Preface

- The Tempest

- A Midsummer Night's Dream

- The Winter's Tale

- Much A do About Nothing

- As You Like It

- The Merchant of Venice

- Cymbeline

- King Lear

- Macbeth

- Twelfth Night

- Romeo and Juliet

- Hamlet

- Othello

安徒生童话选集：英汉对照

冷杉树

在密林深处，有一棵非常漂亮的小冷杉树。它生长在一个很好的地方，有阳光，有大量的新鲜空气，周围有许多比它高的同伴，有冷杉树，也有松树。可是，小冷杉树迫不及待地想要长大。它不去注意温暖的阳光、新鲜的空气，对叽叽喳喳跑来摘草莓和覆盆子的农家孩子也视而不见。那些孩子经常坐在小冷杉树下，抱着满满的一罐罐覆盆子，或举着串在长长稻草上的草莓，大声喊叫着，“从没见过比这棵小树更可爱的东西，是不是！”可是小冷杉树根本不爱听这样的话。

第二年，它又往上长了一截，第三年，它长得更高了。你可以从冷杉树新长出的部分看出它的年龄。

“哦，我多么希望长得和别的树一样高！”小树叹息道。“那样我就可以把枝叶伸展得很开，从树梢上看到世界是什么模样。鸟儿会在我的枝子上搭窝，刮风的时候，我可以像别的树一样非常气派地点头。”

阳光、小鸟，清晨和傍晚在天空浮动的玫瑰色云霞，都不能给它带来任何快乐。

冬天，地面覆盖着晶莹闪亮的白雪，经常会有一只野兔蹦蹦跳跳地跑来，从小树上一跃而过。多讨厌啊！两个冬天过去，到了第三年冬天，小树已经长得很高，野兔只能绕着它跑过去了。

“哦，我多么希望一直长，一直长，长得又高又大！那才是活着的价值啊，”冷杉树想。

秋天，伐木工人来了，砍倒了几棵最高的树。这样的事情每年都会发生，年轻的冷杉树如今完全长大了，当它看到那些气派非凡的大树“哗啦啦”地倒在地上时，总是害怕得全身发抖。那些大树的树枝被削掉了，看上去瘦瘦的、赤裸裸的，简直都让人认不出来了。它们被放在运木材的大车上，由几匹马拉着出了森林。

它们去了哪里呢？它们会遭遇到什么呢？

春天，燕子和鹳来了，冷杉树问它们，“你们知道那些树被带到哪里去了吗？”

燕子完全不知道，鹳显得若有所思，它点点脑袋，说，“没错，我确实见过它们。我从埃及过来的时候，看见许多新船，有着漂亮的新桅杆。我敢说它们就是你说的那些树，有一股冷杉的气味。它们还让我给你带好呢。它们看上去可气派了，非常气派。”

“真希望我已经长得很大，能够漂洋过海！快告诉我，那到底是什么海，看上去是什么模样？”

“那说起来话可就太长了，”鹳说完就走开了。

“享受你的青春！享受你健康的成长，享受你体内年轻的生命吧！”阳光说。

风亲吻着冷杉树，露水把泪珠儿洒在它身上，可是冷杉树一点儿也不明白。

圣诞节快要到了，一大批还很年轻的冷杉树被砍倒，它们有些并没有我们的这棵冷杉树大，个头也没有它高。这些年轻的冷杉树都是最漂亮的，它们的树枝没有被削掉——就被放在运木材的大车上，由马儿拉着，离开了森林。而我们这棵冷杉树还是躁动不安，迫不及待地想要远走高飞。

“它们上哪儿去了？”冷杉树问。“它们并不比我高，说实在的，有一棵还比我矮不少呢——为什么让它们把树枝都留着呢？它们上哪儿去了？”

“我们知道！我们知道！”麻雀叽叽喳喳地说。“在城里，我们透过窗户往里瞧过。我们知道它们去了哪里。在那里等待着它们的是说不尽的荣华富贵！我们透过窗户往里瞧过，看见它们被种在一个温暖舒适的房间中央，上面装饰着各种最最漂亮的东西——金苹果，姜饼，玩具，还有好几百支明亮的蜡烛！”

“然后呢？”冷杉树问，它全身的枝叶都在颤抖。“然后呢？然后怎么样了？”

“后来的事情我们就没看到了，不过那真是太奇妙了，简直无法形容！”

“莫非，我生来就为了这个辉煌的使命？”冷杉树惊叫道，高兴地颤抖不停。“这比漂洋过海还好呢。我真是等不及了。如果现在就是圣诞节多好啊！我已经和去年被拉走的那些树一样高大、强壮了。哦，如果我被放在大车上多好啊！哦，我就呆在那个温暖的房间里，周围都是富丽堂皇的东西！接下来呢——？接下来的事情就更美妙、更漂亮啦，不然他们为什么花那么大工夫来装饰我呢？肯定会发生更加了不起、更加奇妙的事情——是什么呢？哦，我急死了，我等不及了！我真不知道自己是怎么回事。”

“享受我，”空气和阳光都说。“享受你在这露天里的全新的青春吧！”

可是它一点儿也不感到欣喜。它长啊长啊，冬天过去了，夏天过去了，它始终是那么绿，绿得深邃。看到它的人都说，“多漂亮的一棵树！”第二年圣诞节时，它是第一棵被砍倒的树。斧头深深地砍进了它的骨髓，随着一声沉重的叹息，冷杉树倒在地上。它很疼，感到虚弱，根本没有什么快乐可言，因为要离开家乡、离开它生长的地方是很悲伤的。它知道它见不到亲爱的老朋友，见不到周围的小灌木和鲜花——甚至连鸟儿也见不到了。离别真是一件很不愉快的事情啊。

直到它和别的冷杉树一起被卸在一个院子里，它才缓过劲儿来，这时只听一个人说，“这棵树美极了，正是我们想要的。”

接着，两个穿着体面制服的仆人来了，把冷杉树搬到了一间漂亮、宽敞的大会客室里。四面墙壁上挂着肖像，铺着花砖的壁炉旁边是几只巨大的中国坛子，盖子上雕着雄狮。房间里有摇椅，绸面沙发，几张大桌子上散放着图画书，还有特别特别值钱的玩具——至少孩子们是这么说的。

冷杉树被栽进一个盛满沙子的大盆里，不过谁也看不出那是个大盆，因为它用绿布盖得严严实实，放在一张巨大的、五颜六色的地毯上。冷杉树颤抖得多么厉害！接下来会发生什么事呢？男仆人和女仆人开始装饰它了。他们往树枝上挂了许多彩纸剪成的小网兜，每个网兜里都装满了糖果。金苹果和核桃沉甸甸地挂下来，好像本来就长在树上似的，无数支红色、蓝色和白色的蜡烛被固定在了树枝上。还有洋娃娃，看上去就和真的孩子一模一样——冷杉树从来没见过这样的东西——它们在碧绿的树之间晃来晃去，树梢顶上是一颗金光闪闪的大星星：这样的华丽，简直无法用语言形容！

“今天晚上，”他们都说，“今天晚上就把它点亮。”

“噢！”冷杉树想。“真希望现在就是晚上！真希望蜡烛已经点亮！然后呢——然后会发生什么事？森林里的树会过来看我吗？那些麻雀会透过窗户往里看吗？我会在这里扎下根来，一年四季都留着这些装饰品吗？”

它真是什么都不知道啊！所有这些渴望和憧憬使它患上了很厉害的树皮痛——对于一棵树来说，树皮痛就像我们的头痛一样糟糕。

最后，蜡烛都点亮了。那光芒多么耀眼啊！冷杉树太激动了，所有的枝叶都在颤抖，结果一支蜡烛把一根小树枝点燃了——唉，火辣辣的，疼得多么钻心！

“哦，天哪！”女人们说着，迅速把火给扑灭了。现在，冷杉树连微微地战栗也不敢了——太可怕了！它特别担心失去身上的装饰品，觉得自己完全淹没在那些灿烂的光辉中……终于，折叠门一下子打开，几十个吵吵闹闹的小孩子挤了进来，他们推推搡搡，跌跌撞撞，眼看就要把整棵树连根拔起。大人们跟在后面，显得平静多了。小家伙们沉默地站在那里，却只沉默了片刻——随即又爆发出兴奋的尖叫，欣喜若狂地围着树跳舞，把礼物一个个地摘了下来。

“他们在做什么呀？”冷杉树想。“然后会发生什么呢？”蜡烛烧到了树枝，很快就被吹灭了，就像刚才点亮时一样迅速。然后大人们允许小孩子去抢树上的东西。小家伙们争先恐后地扑了上来，所有的树枝都发出嘎吱嘎吱的断裂声。要不是被绳子和那颗金星固定在天花板上，冷杉树肯定被撞翻了。孩子们拿着美丽的玩具，在树的周围一圈圈地跳舞。谁也没有再看一眼冷杉树，只有老保姆在树枝之间仔细查找，看是不是有一个无花果或苹果被孩子们漏掉了。

“讲个故事吧！讲个故事吧！”孩子们央求道，一边把一个又矮又胖的男人往树下拉，男人在树底下坐了下来。“现在我们是在绿绿的树林里了，”他说，“让这棵树听听很有好处。可是我只能讲一个故事。你们是想听‘骗子小猫’呢，还是听‘汉普顿邓普顿’呢？就是那个从楼梯上摔下来，却登上王位，并娶到公主的那个人。”

“‘骗子小猫’，”有些孩子嚷，“‘汉普顿邓普顿’，”另一些孩子嚷。接着是一片震耳欲聋的尖叫和大喊。只有冷杉树默默地站在那里，想道，“难道这一切都跟我无关吗？难道我什么也没有参与吗？”其实它参与了那天晚上的快乐，并且扮演了自己的角色。

于是，又矮又胖的男人开始讲汉普顿邓普顿的故事，他从楼梯上摔下来，却登上了王位，并且娶了公主。孩子们拍着小手，喊道，“再讲一个！再讲一个！”他们还想听“骗子小猫”的故事，但是除了“汉普顿邓普顿”，男人不再讲别的故事了。

冷杉树默默地站在那里，陷入了沉思——森林的鸟儿从来没讲过这样的故事。“汉普顿邓普顿从楼梯上摔下来，却还能娶到公主。是啊！是啊！世界上的事情就是这样的啊，”冷杉树想，它相信这个故事一定是真的，因为讲故事的是一个那么善良的先生。“唉，谁知道呢？我说不定也会从楼梯上摔下去，赢得我的公主呢！”它盼望着第二天再被装饰一新，满身都是蜡烛、玩具、金星和水果。

“明天我就不会发抖了，”它想。“我要尽情享受我身上的灿烂光芒。明天我还能听到‘汉普顿邓普顿’的故事，说不定还能听到‘骗子小猫’的故事呢。”它在那里安安静静地想了一夜。

早上，那个男人带着一个仆人进来了。

“又要开始庆祝节日了，”冷杉树想。可是那两个人把它拖出房间，拖到了楼上的阁楼间，放在一个黑暗的、没有一点光线的角落里。“这是什么意思？”冷杉树想。“我在这个地方做什么？我会听到什么？”它靠在墙上，苦思冥想……它有的是时间，许多个白天、许多个夜晚过去，没有一个人到阁楼上来。后来终于有人上来了，却只是把几只大箱子挪到墙角。这样，冷杉树就被挡得严严实实，好像彻底被人遗忘了一样。

“现在外面是冬天，”冷杉树想。“地面很硬，覆盖着冰雪，不能给我栽种，所以才把我藏在这里，等待春天来临吧。想得多么周到！人们多么善良！唉，只希望这里不是这样黑，不是这样孤单得可怕——连一只小野兔也没有！现在想起来，冰天雪地的时候呆在树林里是很美妙的，野兔活泼泼地奔窜——是啊，即使从我头顶上跳过去也是有趣的，可我当时却并不这样想。这种孤独实在让人无法忍受啊！”

“吱吱！吱吱！”就在这时，一只小老鼠尖叫着从地板上跑出来，后面还跟着一只。它们嗅了嗅冷杉树，在树枝间钻进钻出。

“冷得要命，”两只小老鼠说，“不然这里倒是挺舒服的。你说呢，老冷杉树？”

“我根本就不老，”冷杉树回答。“许多树都比我老得多呢。”

“你是从哪里来的？”老鼠问，“你都知道些什么？”

它们是不是太鲁莽、太好奇了？

“告诉我们世界上最有趣的地方。你去过那里吗？你去过食品储藏室吗？那里的柜子里有奶酪，天花板上挂着火腿，你可以从牛脂蜡烛上跳过去，瘦瘦的钻进去，吃胖了再钻出来。”

“那个地方我不知道，”冷杉树回答，“但我知道森林，那里阳光灿烂，鸟儿歌唱！”于是它详详细细地讲述了它年轻时候的事，这是两只小老鼠从来没听过的。它们听得可专心了，说，“天哪，你该看到了多少东西啊！你当时该有多么幸福啊！”

“我？”冷杉树说，回想着刚才说的那些。“是啊，现在想来，那些日子是非常愉快的啊。”然后它又跟它们讲了圣诞节前夜的事，讲它全身怎样装饰着糖果和蜡烛。

“哦！”两只小老鼠说。“你这棵冷杉树，曾经是多么幸福啊！”

“我根本不老，”冷杉树说。“我是今年冬天才从森林里出来的。我还正当年呢，只是暂时停止生长罢了。”

“你讲得真好听！”两只小老鼠说。第二天夜里，它们又带了四只老鼠来听冷杉树讲它的经历，它讲得越多，那些往事就越清晰地浮现在它眼前，它想，“那些日子确实是非常幸福的呀。不过它们还会回来的——还会再一次回来的。汉普顿邓普顿从楼梯上摔下来还能赢得公主呢！说不定我也能娶到一位公主！”冷杉树想到了森林里一棵特别可爱的小白桦树——在冷杉树看来，那棵小白桦就是一位真正的美丽公主。

“汉普顿邓普顿是谁？”小老鼠们问。冷杉树就把整个故事讲给它们听，它每个字都记得清清楚楚，小老鼠们高兴极了，几乎跳到了树梢顶上。第三天夜里，来了更多的老鼠，到了星期天，甚至来了两只田鼠——可是它们说那个故事一点儿也不好玩，这使小老鼠们非常伤心，它们现在也觉得那个故事不怎么样了。

“你只知道这一个故事吗？”两只田鼠问。

“只知道这一个，”冷杉树回答。“我是在我这辈子最幸福的那个晚上听到它的，但我当时并不知道我有多么幸福！”

“这是个很没意思的故事。你知道猪肉和牛脂蜡烛的故事吗？还有食品储藏室的故事吗？”

“不知道，”冷杉树说。

“多谢了，那我们就不打扰你了，”两只田鼠说完，就回到它们家人的身边去了。

最后，小老鼠们也不来了，冷杉树暗自叹息：“现在想起来，那些灵活的小老鼠围坐在这里听我讲话，那场面多么温馨啊。如今连这也结束了。等我从这里搬走之后，我一定要记得及时享受快乐！”

可是那一天什么时候到来呢？

后来有一天早晨，人们上来打扫阁楼间，挪走了那些大箱子，把冷杉树从墙角拖出来，非常粗暴地扔在地上，随即一个男人拖着它往楼梯口走去，冷杉树再一次看见了明亮的日光。“生活终于重新开始了，”冷杉树心想。它感受到了新鲜空气，感受到了第一缕阳光——这时候已经来到外面的院子里。事情发生得太快了，冷杉树忘记了打量一下自己，因为周围有那么多可看的东西。院子旁边是一座花园，里面百花盛开，一簇簇芳香扑鼻的玫瑰花从小栅栏上垂挂下来，菩提树上也开满了花，燕子忽高忽低地飞着，叽叽喳喳地说，“吱吱——吱吱——我的爱人来了！”但它们指的并不是冷杉树。

“现在我要开始真正的生活了！”冷杉树高兴地喊了起来，同时把所有的枝叶都舒展开来。唉！它们都变得干枯、焦黄了——冷杉树发现自己被扔在墙角，与杂草和荨麻为伍。那颗金星星还留在树梢上，在灿烂的阳光下闪闪发亮。

那些愉快的孩子们，曾经在圣诞节时围着冷杉树跳舞，曾经对冷杉树那样喜爱，其中有几个此刻正在院子里玩耍。那最小的一个冲到它跟前，摘走了那颗金色的星星。

“你们瞧，那棵难看的破圣诞树上还挂着什么！”孩子一边说，一边在树枝上踩来踩去，树枝在他脚下咔叭咔叭地断裂。

冷杉树看看花园里千娇百媚、姹紫嫣红的鲜花，再看看自己，真希望它还是呆在阁楼间那个黑暗的角落里。它想起了它在森林里度过的新鲜翠绿的青春年华，想起那个快乐的圣诞前夜，想起那些津津有味地听汉普顿邓普顿故事的小老鼠们。

“一切都结束了，”可怜的冷杉树说。“为什么我当时没有好好享受它们呢？结束了！结束了！”

这时，那个男人走来，把冷杉树劈成碎片，堆成了一大堆。大铜锅下面生起了熊熊的旺火，冷杉树发出无比沉重的叹息，每一声叹息都像是遥远的枪声。孩子们被这声音吸引，围过来站成一圈，望着火苗大声喊道，“乒！乓！”然而，随着每一声爆裂——其实是一声沉重的叹息——冷杉树都会想起森林里一个美丽的夏天，或想起森林里一个星光灿烂的冬夜；它想起了圣诞前夜，想起了汉普顿邓普顿，这是它听过、它会讲的唯一一个故事……这时候，冷杉树已经被烧成了灰烬。

男孩子们在院子里玩耍，最小的那个把金星星别在胸前，这颗星星曾经装饰过冷杉树，那是在它最幸福的那个晚上。

现在一切都结束了，冷杉树结束了，故事也结束了！结束了！结束了！这就是所有故事的结局。

小美人鱼

在大海遥远的地方，海水像最蓝的矢车菊一样蓝，像水晶一样清澈，而且是那么深、那么深，没有一根电缆能够到达。许多尖顶教堂一个接一个地摞在一起，也不能从海底够到海面。那里，生活着海王和他的臣民。我们千万不要以为海底只是一片黄黄的沙地。不是的，那里生长着最奇异的花草植物。它们的叶子和梗茎那么柔软，海水的一点点最细微的波动，也会使它们像活了一样动弹起来。大大小小的鱼儿在枝枝蔓蔓间游动，就像鸟儿在陆地的树林里飞翔一样。在海底最深的地方，矗立着海王的城堡。城堡的墙壁是珊瑚砌成，那一扇扇中世纪风格的长窗是用最明净的琥珀做的。房顶是贝壳构成，这些贝壳会随着海水的流动一开一合。它们看上去非常美丽，因为每个贝壳里都躺着一颗闪闪发亮的珍珠，可以镶在女王的王冠上。

海王的妻子去世很多年了，他年迈的母亲替他管家。老太太是个很有智慧的女人，对自己高贵的出身感到非常骄傲。为了这个缘故，她的尾巴上戴着十二个牡蛎。别人虽然地位也很高，却只允许戴六个。不过，老太太确实值得大加称颂，特别是她把那些小公主——她的孙女儿们照顾得那么好。她们是六个美丽的孩子，最小的一个最漂亮。她的肌肤像玫瑰花瓣一样清爽娇嫩，她的眼睛像最深的海水一样湛蓝，可是，像别人一样，她没有脚，身体的下端是一条鱼尾巴。小公主们整天在城堡的大厅里玩耍，或在墙壁上长出的那些活着的花朵间嬉戏。大大的琥珀窗户敞开着，鱼儿游进来，就像我们把窗户打开，燕子会飞进我们家里一样，只是鱼儿会游到公主们身边，吃她们手里拿的东西，让她们抚摸自己。城堡外有一座美丽的花园，种着鲜红色和深蓝色的花，那些花朵像火焰一样。果子金灿灿的，叶子和梗茎不住地来回摇摆。地面是最细密的沙子，蓝盈盈的，像硫磺燃烧的火焰一样。每样东西上都笼罩着一种独特的蓝光，似乎被上面蔚蓝天空映照的空气包围着，而不是在下面幽深的海底。风平浪静的时候，能看见太阳，像一朵紫色的花，放射着矢车菊里流淌出来的光。花园里，每位小公主都有一片属于自己的地，可以随心所欲地栽种花草。一位公主把她的花圃布置成鲸鱼的样子，另一位公主却愿意自己花圃的形状像一个小人鱼。最小的那位公主的花圃圆圆的，像太阳一样，里面种着像晚霞那样红艳艳的花朵。她是一个奇怪的孩子，性情安静，喜欢想心事，姐姐们都高兴地从沉船里捡来那些新奇美妙的东西，她却无动于衷，只关心她那些像太阳一样的漂亮的红花，以及一尊漂亮的大理石雕像。雕像是一位英俊的男孩，用纯白的石头雕刻而成，是从一艘沉船上落进海底的。小公主在雕像旁种了一棵玫瑰红色的垂杨柳。它长得很快，没过多久，新鲜的枝条就垂落到雕像上，几乎碰到了下面蓝色的沙地。树影泛着淡淡的紫色，像树枝一样来回摇曳。似乎树梢和树根在做游戏，想去亲吻对方。小公主最快乐的事情莫过于了解大海上面的那个世界。她央求老祖母把她知道的关于船和城镇、人和动物的事都讲给她听。她听说陆地上的花儿会散发香味儿，而海底的却不能，陆地森林里的树竟然是绿色的，林子里的鱼儿会唱出甜美的歌儿，让人听了非常愉快，……小公主听着，觉得特别奇妙和美丽。奶奶把小鸟说成是鱼，不然小公主就听不明白，因为她从来没见过小鸟。

“等你长到十五岁，”老祖母说，“你就可以升到海面去，坐在月光下的岩石上，看大船在海面驶过，那时候你就能看见森林和城镇了。”

第二年，一个姐姐就要满十五岁了。可是她们一个比一个小一岁，最小的公主要等五年才能从海底浮到海面，像我们这样看到陆地。不过，每个姐姐都答应告诉姐妹们她第一次到海面是怎样的，她认为什么最美丽。因为老祖母跟她们讲的远远不够。有那么多东西她们都想了解。姐妹们谁也没有像最小的公主那样盼着轮到自己，因为她要等的时间最长，而她又是这么安静，这么爱想心事。许多个夜晚，她站在敞开的窗户前，抬头眺望深蓝色的海水，注视着那些摇摆着尾巴和鳍的鱼儿。她隐隐约约看见月亮和星星闪着亮光，可是隔着海水，它们看上去要比我们看见的大一些。有时候一团类似乌云的东西在她和它们之间飘过，她知道那要么是一只鲸鱼游过她的头顶，要么是一艘载满人类的船，船上的人怎么也想象不到，下面站着一个美丽的小人鱼，朝他们的船底伸出自己白皙的双手。

最大的姐姐一满十五岁，就获准浮到大海的表面。她回来时，有几百件事情要告诉大家，可是她说，最美的是躺在月光下的沙丘上，在靠近岸边的寂静的海水里，凝望着附近的一座大城市，那里的灯光像几百颗星星一样闪闪烁烁，她听见音乐声，马车声和人们的说话声，还听见教堂的塔尖上传来愉快的钟声。她不可能去接近所有这些奇妙的事物，便越发地渴望它们。哦，最小的妹妹多么热切地听着这些描述！后来，当她站在敞开的窗口，透过深蓝色的海水朝上面眺望时，她便想着那个大城市，想着那些喧嚣和忙碌，甚至想象着她在这海底深处，也能听见教堂的钟声。

第二年，第二个姐姐获准浮到海面，在那里尽情地游来游去。她是太阳落山的时候浮上去的，她说，那时的景色是最美丽的。整个天空看上去像金子一样，她头顶上飘浮着紫色和玫瑰色的云团，美得令她无法形容。比云团飘得更快的，是一大群野天鹅朝落日飞去，像一条长长的白色面纱在海面掠过。她也朝着太阳游去，可是太阳沉入了大海，玫瑰色的霞光也从云彩和海面退去了。

轮到第三个姐姐了，她是她们中间胆子最大的，她游到了一个流入大海的大河里。她看见岸边青青的山坡上覆盖着美丽的葡萄藤，在森林里高大挺拔的树丛间，宫殿和城堡若隐若现。她听见鸟儿在歌唱，阳光太强烈了，她不得不经常沉入水下，让晒得火辣辣的面庞冷却一下。在一处窄窄的小溪里，她发现一群人类的小孩子，几乎光着身子，在水里嬉戏。她很想跟他们一起玩，可是他们惊慌失措地逃走了。然后，一只黑乎乎的小动物来到水边，是一只狗，但她不知道，因为以前从没见过。这只动物恶狠狠地冲她汪汪直叫，她害怕了，赶紧游回了辽阔的大海。但是她说，她永远不会忘记美丽的树林，青青的山坡，还有那些虽然没有鱼尾巴，却能在水里游泳的漂亮的小孩子们。

第四个姐姐比较胆小，她一直留在大海中央，但她说那里跟靠近陆地的地方一样美丽。四周是一望无际的海面，头顶的天空看上去像一只玻璃铃铛。她看见过船，但是隔着这么远的距离，它们看着就像海鸥一样。海豚在水里玩耍，巨大的鲸鱼从鼻孔里喷水，看上去似乎有一百个喷泉在四面八方喷水呢。

第五个姐姐的生日是在冬天。轮到她的时候，她看到了其他姐姐第一次出水时没看见的东西。大海看上去绿莹莹的，到处漂浮着大大的冰山，她说，每座冰山都像一粒珍珠，却比人类建造的教堂还要大、还要高。它们的形状千奇百怪，像钻石一样熠熠闪光。她坐在那块最大的冰山上，让风吹拂着她长长的头发，她发现所有的船只都快速行驶，尽量远离冰川，似乎很害怕它们。快到晚上的时候，太阳落山，乌云笼罩了天空，雷声滚滚，闪电阵阵，冰山在波涛汹涌的海面颠簸起伏，闪着红光。所有的船只都在瑟瑟发抖，帆缩成一团，而她平静地坐在漂浮的冰山上，注视着蓝色的闪电把叉形的电光投入大海。

姐姐们第一次获准浮到海面时，都为她们看到的新奇美丽的景象而感到惊喜。可是现在，她们已经是大姑娘了，想什么时候去就什么时候去，也就觉得无所谓了。她们希望回到水底下来，过了一个月，她们说还是下面漂亮得多，还是在家更加愉快。不过，傍晚的时候，五个姐姐还是经常互相挽着臂膀，排成一排浮出海面。她们的声音比任何人类的都要悦耳动听。在暴风雨到来之前，她们预感到一艘船快要沉没时，便游到船前，用甜蜜的声音歌唱海底下能找到的快乐，请求那些水手，如果沉入海底不要害怕。可是水手听不懂她们的歌，以为是风暴的吼叫。而且，对他们来说海底这些东西不可能美丽，因为如果船沉了，那些人就会被淹死，最后沉入海王宫殿的只有他们的尸体。

每当姐姐们这样挽着胳膊浮出海面时，她们最小的妹妹便独自站在那里，望着她们的背影，难过得想哭，可是人鱼是没有眼泪的，这使得她们更加痛苦。“哦，如果我十五岁就好了，”她说，“我知道我会喜欢上面的那个世界，喜欢住在里面的所有的人。”

终于，她满十五岁了。“好了，你现在长大了，”尊贵的老祖母说道，“我必须像打扮你的姐姐们那样打扮你。”她把一个白色的百合花做成的花环戴在小公主的头上，每一片花瓣上都镶着半颗珍珠。然后，老太太吩咐八只大牡蛎吸在小公主的尾巴上，以显示她高贵的身份。

“可是它们咬得我好疼，”小人鱼说。

“要风度就必须忍受痛苦。”老夫人回答。哦，她真巴不得抖掉这些华丽的装饰，摘下这沉重的花环啊！她自己花园里的红花对她来说要合适得多，但她没有办法，于是说了一句“再见”，便轻盈得像个水泡一样，浮到了水面。她从海里抬起头时，太阳刚刚落山，但云端还泛着红色和金色，透过朦胧的暮色，星星洒下了它们最美丽的柔光。海面很平静，空气温和而清新。一艘三根桅杆的大船，静静地泊在水面上，上面只撑着一张帆。因为四下里没有一点风，水手们懒洋洋地坐在甲板上或缆绳间。船上有音乐和歌声，随着夜幕的降临，一百盏彩灯点亮了，好像各个国家的旗子在空中飘舞。小人鱼游到船舱的窗户边，海浪不时地把她托举起来，使她能透过明净的玻璃看到里面许多衣冠楚楚的人们。其中有一位年轻的王子，是所有人中最美丽的，一双乌黑的大眼睛，他刚满十六岁，人们正在热烈地庆祝他的生日。水手们在甲板上跳舞，当王子走出船舱的时候，一百多枚火箭射向空中，把天空照得像白天一样明亮。小人鱼惊讶极了，潜到了水下。当她重新探出脑袋时，似乎天上所有的星星都掉落在她周围，她从没见过这样璀璨的烟花。大太阳喷射出火光，灿烂的萤火虫飞入靛蓝的夜空，所有的一切都倒映在下面平静清澈的海水中。船本身被照得通体透亮，每一个人都能被看得清清楚楚，就连最细的缆绳也不例外。音乐在清朗的夜空中回荡，年轻的王子跟在场的每一个人握手微笑，他看上去是那么英俊。

时间很晚了，但小人鱼还舍不得让目光离开这艘船，离开美丽的王子。彩色的灯笼已经熄灭，不再有火箭射向空中，大炮也停止了发射。可是海面变得不再平静，波涛下可以听见一种呜咽和悲鸣。小人鱼仍然徘徊在船舱的窗口，海浪推着她一起一伏，使她能看到窗户里的情景。过了一会儿，船帆很快扬起，这艘高贵的大船继续向前航行。然而，海浪越涌越高，沉甸甸的乌云染黑了天空，远处出现了闪电。一场可怕的风暴即将来临。船帆又一次收了起来，大船在波涛汹涌的大海上飞速前进。海浪像山一样高，眼看就要压过桅杆，大船像天鹅一样潜入浪谷，接着又升到泛着泡沫的高高的浪尖。在小人鱼看来，这是个很有趣的游戏，水手们可不这样认为。后来大船发出呻吟和断裂声，大浪拍在甲板上，砸碎了厚厚的船板。主桅杆像芦苇一样折断，船侧了过来，海水哗哗地往里灌。小人鱼这才看出船上的人有危险。就连她自己也不得不小心避开海面散落的那些横梁和船板。一时间，周围一片漆黑，她什么也看不见，然后一道闪电照亮了一切。她看见了原来在船上的每一个人，只有王子不见踪影。大船解体时，她看见王子沉入了深深的波涛，她感到很高兴，以为这下王子就能跟她在一起了。接着，她想起人类是不能在水里生活的，当王子沉到她父亲的宫殿时，已经不会再有生命。可是王子决不能死。于是，她在海面上散落的横梁和船板间游来游去，忘记了它们会把她撞得粉碎。然后，她深深地沉入黝黑的海水，随着汹涌的波浪起伏，终于来到了年轻的王子身边。王子在风暴肆虐的海里，正在迅速丧失游泳的力量。他的四肢不听使唤，他美丽的眼睛闭上了，如果不是小人鱼赶来相救，他肯定就死了。小人鱼把他的脑袋托出水面，让海浪推送着他们。

早晨，风暴停息了，可是大船已经消失得无影无踪。红彤彤的太阳从水里升起，它的光芒使王子的面颊恢复了健康的红晕，但他的眼睛还是闭着。小人鱼亲吻他高高的、光洁的额头，把他潮湿的头发捋向脑后。小人鱼觉得他很像她小花园里的那座大理石雕像，于是她又亲吻他，希望他能活过来。不一会儿，陆地出现了。她看见巍峨的蓝色山脉，上面覆盖着白色的积雪，就像一群天鹅停歇在上面。靠近海岸的地方是一片片绿色的树林，近旁矗立着一座高大的建筑，不知是教堂还是修道院。花园里种着橘子树和香橼树，门前是高大的棕榈树。大海在这里形成一个小湾，海水很平静，但是很深。小人鱼带着英俊的王子朝岸边游去，那里是一片洁白细密的沙滩。她把王子放在沙滩上温暖的阳光下，并小心地让他的脑袋比身体稍高一些。这时，白色大房子里的钟声敲响了，一群年轻姑娘来到了花园里。小人鱼游到离岸边很远的地方，藏在几块突出水面的高高的岩石之间，并用海水的泡沫盖住脑袋和脖子，这样别人就不会看见她的小脸了。她留神注视着可怜的王子会有什么样的遭遇。没等多久，她就看见一个年轻姑娘向王子躺的地方走去。起初姑娘似乎被吓着了，随即，她叫来了许多人，小人鱼看到王子又活了过来，朝站在他周围的人露出微笑。可是他没有朝小人鱼微笑，他不知道是她救了他。这使小人鱼感到很不开心，王子被领进那个大房子后，小人鱼就闷闷不乐地潜入水底，回到了她父亲的城堡。她一向是沉默多思的，现在更是如此。姐姐们问她第一次浮到海面看见了什么，她什么也不肯说。许多个夜晚和早晨，她浮到当时离开王子的地方。她看见花园里的果子成熟了，被采摘了，山顶上的积雪融化了，可是她再也没有看见王子。她回到家，心情比以前更忧伤了。她唯一的安慰就是坐在自己的小花园里，用胳膊搂住那座很像王子的美丽的大理石雕像。她不再照料她的花，它们长得杂乱无章，封住了小径，并用长长的叶子和梗茎把树枝缠住，整个花园变得黑黢黢、阴森森的。最后，她再也忍不住了，就把一切告诉了她的一个姐姐。然后，别的姐姐也知道了这个秘密，事情很快传到另外两个人鱼的耳朵里，她们的亲密朋友碰巧知道那个王子是谁。那位朋友也看见了船上的庆祝活动，于是她告诉她们那个王子是从哪里来的，他的宫殿在哪里。

“来吧，小妹妹。”别的公主们说。她们互相挽着胳膊，排成一排浮到海面，来到离她们知道的王子的宫殿不远的地方。宫殿是用黄灿灿的石头砌成的，有长长的大理石台阶，一道台阶直接通到海边。宫殿顶上有许多灿烂辉煌的圆顶，宫殿周围的柱子之间，竖立着许多栩栩如生的大理石雕像。透过清澈高大的水晶窗户，能看见里面高雅的房间，昂贵的丝绸窗帘和挂毯，墙上挂着许多美丽的图画，看了令人赏心悦目。最大的那个大厅中央有一个喷泉，把亮晶晶的水柱喷射到高高的天花板的玻璃圆顶上，阳光透过圆顶照着水花，照着喷泉周围那些美丽的植物。现在小人鱼知道王子住在哪里了，于是许多个傍晚和黑夜都来到宫殿附近的水中。她总是游到最靠近岸边的地方，别人可不敢游到那里去。事实上，有一次她还游到了大理石阳台下面的狭窄水道里，阳台在水面上投下一道宽阔的影子。她经常坐在这里，注视着年轻的王子，王子还以为皎洁的月光下只有他一个人呢。夜晚，小人鱼许多次看见王子坐一只可爱的小船航行，船上奏着音乐，飘着旗子。她从绿色的灌木丛中往外窥视，如果风掀动了她银白色的长长面纱，看见她的人会以为那是一只天鹅张开了翅膀。许多个夜晚，渔民们举着火把出海，她听见他们讲述年轻的王子做的那么多桩好事，她便为自己救了王子的命而感到高兴，当时王子被波浪抛掷，生命垂危。她想起王子的脑袋曾经靠在她的胸口，她曾经那么深情地亲吻过他。可是王子对这些一无所知，甚至做梦也不会梦见她。小人鱼越来越喜欢人类了，越来越渴望能跟人类一起遨游，他们的世界似乎比她的要大得多。他们可以乘船在海面飞过，可以登上高耸入云的大山，他们拥有的土地，他们的树林和田野，一直延伸到她视野的尽头。她渴望知道的东西太多了，姐姐们回答不了她所有的问题。于是，她去求助于老祖母。老祖母非常了解上面的世界——她这样恰当地称呼海面上的陆地。

“如果人类不被淹死，”小人鱼问，“他们能永远活着吗？他们是不是永远不会像我们在海里这样死去？”

“不，”老妇人回答，“他们也必须死去，而且他们的寿命甚至比我们还短。我们有时能活三百岁，可是一旦生命停止，我们只会变成水面的泡沫，海底甚至没有我们所爱的人的坟墓。我们没有不死的灵魂，永远不会有来生。我们就像绿色的海草一样，一旦被砍断，就再也不会变得茂盛。人类与此相反，他们有一个永远活着的灵魂，即使肉体化为灰土后仍然活着。它穿过闪烁的星星升入清澈纯净的空中。就像我们浮出水面、看到陆地上的一切一样，他们升到了未知的灿烂的天国，那是我们永远也看不到的。”

“为什么我们没有一个不死的灵魂？”小人鱼悲哀地问，“我情愿放弃我要活的这几百年，去过一天人类的生活，有希望知道星空之上那个灿烂世界的快乐。”

“你可千万别那么想，”老妇人说，“我们觉得自己比人类要快乐得多，幸福得多。”

“那么我就只能死去，”小人鱼说，“变成海上的泡沫，漂来漂去，再也听不见海浪的音乐，看不见美丽的鲜花和火红的太阳。我有什么办法去赢得一个不死的灵魂吗？”

“没有，”老妇人说，“除非有个男人非常非常爱你，把你看得比他的父母还重要。他所有的心思和爱意都集中在你身上，神父把他的右手放在你的手里，他答应永生永世对你忠诚，然后他的灵魂就会融进你的身体，你就能和他一起分享人类未来的快乐。他会给你一个灵魂，同时留住自己的。可是这样的事情永远不可能发生。你的鱼尾巴，在我们中间都认为十分美丽，在陆地上却被认为奇丑无比。他们根本就不知好歹，以为必须有两根粗壮的柱子才算漂亮，他们管那两根柱子叫腿。”

小人鱼听了叹息一声，忧伤地望着自己的鱼尾巴。“高兴一些吧，”老妇人说，“在我们活着的三百年里尽情地畅游跳跃，这个时间够长的了。然后，我们巴不得能够休息。今天晚上我们要举行一个宫廷舞会。”

这是我们在陆地上永远也见不到的美景之一。宏大舞厅的墙壁和天花板都是厚厚的、透明的水晶。几百只硕大的贝壳列队站在两边，它们有的深红，有的草绿，壳内闪着蓝色的火焰，照亮了整个舞厅，而且透过水晶墙壁，把海水也照亮了。数不清的大大小小的鱼儿，在水晶墙外游过，有些鱼儿的鳞片闪着紫色的光芒，有些则闪着银光和金光。一股水流在舞厅里流过，男男女女的人鱼儿就在这水流中翩翩起舞，用自己甜美的歌声奏乐。陆地上谁也没有他们这样美妙的歌喉。我们的小人鱼唱得比他们所有的人更动听。整个宫廷的人鱼儿都用手和尾巴为她喝彩。那一刻，她心里感到非常快乐，她知道自己拥有陆地和海洋最甜美的声音。可是，她很快就又想起了上面那个世界，她无法忘记那个迷人的王子，无法忘记她不能像王子那样拥有一个不死的灵魂的悲哀。于是，她悄悄地溜出了父王的宫殿。宫殿里充满了歌声和快乐，而她一个人坐在自己的小花园里，黯然神伤。她听见水中传来号角的声音，她想——“他肯定在上面乘船航行，我所有的愿望都在他身上，我愿意把我一生的幸福交到他的手里。我要不顾一切去找他，去赢得一个不死的灵魂。乘现在姐姐们都在父王的宫殿里跳舞，我要去找海巫婆，虽然我一直那么害怕她，但她可以给我建议和帮助。”

于是，小人鱼走出她的花园，朝泛着泡沫的漩涡走去，海巫婆就住在漩涡后面。小人鱼从没走过这条路，这里没有花草，只有空荡荡的灰色沙地通向漩涡。漩涡的水像泛着泡沫的水车一样，把抓住的东西一圈圈旋转，让它们沉入无底的深渊。小人鱼必须在这些毁灭一切的漩涡间穿过，才能到达海巫婆的领地，而且很长一段路是在一大片热乎乎的、冒着气泡的泥沼里穿行，海巫婆把这里称为她的泥沼地。再往前就是海巫婆的房子，位于一片奇异的树林中间，所有的树木和花草都是息肉，半是动物半是植物。它们的样子像蛇，从地里钻出一百个脑袋。树枝都是长长的、黏乎乎的手臂，手指像会伸缩的蠕虫，从树根到树梢的根根枝条都在蠕动。凡是海里能捞到的东西，它们都抓过来，死死地钳住不放，使它永远不能逃脱。小人鱼看到这一切害怕极了，她站住了，恐惧得心怦怦直跳，差点儿就转身回去了。可是她想起了王子，想起了她所渴望的人类灵魂，她的勇气又回来了。她把飘逸的长发盘在脑袋上，这样那些息肉就抓不住了。她用双手抱住自己的胸口，像一条鱼那样在水中飞快地穿行，两边都是丑陋的息肉，伸出它们柔软的胳膊和手指。她看到，每个息肉都用它无数的铁箍般的小手臂抓住了某件东西。遭遇海难、沉入海底的人类的白骨，陆地动物的骨骸以及失事船只的桨、舵和箱子，都被它们的手臂紧紧抓住。甚至还有一个小人鱼，也被它们抓住，窒息而死。这一幕在小公主看来是最恐怖的。

此刻，她来到树林里一处沼泽般的空地，泥沼里有肥胖硕大的水蛇在翻滚，露出它们丑陋的土褐色身体。空地中央有一座房子，是用船只失事的人们的白骨建成的。海巫婆就坐在那里，让一只癞蛤蟆从她嘴里吃东西，就像人们有时候喂金丝雀吃一块糖那样。她管那些丑陋的水蛇叫她的小鸡仔，并允许它们在她胸脯上爬来爬去。

“我知道你想要什么，”海巫婆说，“你真是很傻，但是你的愿望可以满足，而那只会给你带来痛苦，我美丽的公主。你想摆脱你的鱼尾巴，像陆地上的人类一样拥有两根柱子，这样年轻的王子就会爱上你，你就能得到一个不死的灵魂。”说到这里，巫婆放声大笑，笑声那么令人恶心，那些癞蛤蟆和水蛇都落到地上，躺在那里蠕动。“你来得正是时候，”巫婆说，“明天太阳升起来之后，我就只能等到明年年底才能帮你了。我会给你准备一剂药，你必须在明天早晨太阳升起之前，带着药游到陆地，坐在岸边把药喝掉。然后，你的尾巴就会消失，缩成人类所说的腿，你会感到剧烈的疼痛，就像一把剑刺穿你的身体。看见你的人都会说，你是他们见过的最漂亮的小人儿。你举手投足仍然有那种轻盈游动的身姿，没有一个舞蹈家的舞姿能像你这么飘逸。可是你每跳一步，都会感觉像踩在锋利的刀子上，肯定会有血流出来。如果你能忍受所有这些，我就帮助你。”

“能，我能忍受。”小公主用颤抖的声音说，心里想的是王子和不死的灵魂。

“你再考虑一下吧，”巫婆说，“一旦你的身体变成了人类，就再也不能做人鱼了。你永远也不能穿过海水，重新回到姐姐们身边，回到你父亲的宫殿。如果你没有赢得那位王子的爱，让他愿意为了你而忘记自己的父母，用他的全部灵魂爱你，并允许神父把你们的手放在一起，让你们结为夫妻，那么，你就永远不可能有一个不死的灵魂。在王子跟另一位姑娘结婚的第二天早晨，你的心会破碎，你会变成浪尖上的泡沫。”

“我愿意。”小人鱼说，她的脸色变得惨白惨白。

“我必须得到报偿，”巫婆说，“我想要的可不是小玩意儿。你拥有这海底最美妙动听的声音，我相信你也能用这声音迷住王子，可是你必须把你的声音给我。我要得到你身上最好的东西，作为我制药的代价。我必须把我自己的血融在药里面，让它变得像一把双刃剑一样锋利。”

“可是，如果你拿走了我的声音，”小人鱼说，“我还剩下什么呢？”

“你美丽的身姿，优雅的步态，还有你那会说话的眼睛，有了这些，你肯定能迷住一个男人的心。怎么，你失去勇气了吗？快把你的小舌头伸出来，我把它割下作为我的报偿。然后你就会得到那威力无比的药剂。”

“好吧。”小人鱼说。

巫婆把她的坩埚放在火上，熬制魔药。

“干净很重要，”她说，抓住一把水蛇绾成一个大结，用它擦拭器皿。然后她刺破自己的胸脯，让黑血滴进去。袅袅上升的蒸汽形成非常恐怖的形状，谁看了都会感到害怕。巫婆不断地往器皿里扔进新的东西，锅开的时候，声音像一只鳄鱼在哭泣。最后，魔药终于做好了，看上去像最干净的清水。“给你。”巫婆说。她割去人鱼的舌头，使她变成了哑巴，再也不能说话和唱歌。“你从树林里回去的时候，如果那些息肉来抓你，”巫婆说，“就朝它们洒几滴魔药，它们的手指就会碎成一千片。”然而小人鱼没有机会这么做了，那些息肉一看见她手里像星星一样闪闪发亮的魔药，就吓得赶紧退了回去。

就这样，她迅速地穿过树林和沼泽地，穿过那些汹涌的漩涡。她看见在父王宫殿里，舞厅的火把已经熄灭，里面的人都睡觉了。她不敢进去回到他们身边，因为她现在成了哑巴，而且要永远离开他们，她觉得自己的心都要碎了。她偷偷溜进花园，从每个姐姐的花圃里摘了一朵花，又朝宫殿抛去一千个飞吻，然后浮出深蓝色的海面。她来到能看见王子的宫殿的地方，走近美丽的大理石台阶，这时候太阳还没有升起，但是月光那么清澈明亮。小人鱼喝下了魔药，似乎有一把双刃剑刺穿了她纤弱的身体，她晕了过去，躺在地上像死去了一般。太阳升起来，照耀着海面，她醒来了，感觉到钻心的疼痛，可是就在她面前，站着那位年轻英俊的王子。他那双乌黑的眼睛那么真诚地望着她，使她不由地垂下目光，这才发现她的鱼尾巴已经不见了，她有了任何少女所能拥有的漂亮白皙的双腿和一双小脚。她没有衣服，便用浓密的长发把自己裹住。王子问她是谁，从哪里来，她用深邃的蓝眼睛温柔而忧伤地望着王子，却不能够说话。她每走一步，感觉都像巫婆说的那样，如同踩在针尖和锋利的刀子上。但是她心甘情愿地忍受着，在王子身边像肥皂泡一样轻盈地走着，王子和每一个看见她的人都为她优雅飘逸的身姿而惊叹。很快，她就穿上了丝绸和薄纱做的华贵的长裙，成了宫殿里最美丽的人。然而她是个哑巴，不会说话，也不会唱歌。

漂亮的女奴们穿着丝绸和金子做的衣服，走上前来，在王子和他尊贵的父母面前唱歌。其中一个唱得比别人都好听，王子鼓着掌，微笑地看着她。这让小人鱼感到莫大的悲哀。她知道自己曾经拥有的歌喉比这更加甜美得多，她想，“哦，如果他能知道该多好！就为了跟他在一起，我永远舍弃了自己的声音。”

接着，女奴们随着优美的音乐，表演一些漂亮的仙女般的舞蹈。这时小人鱼抬起自己美丽洁白的手臂，踮起脚尖，轻盈地在地板上滑过，没有任何人的舞姿能够比得上她。她每一分钟都展示出更多的美，那双会说话的眼睛比女奴的歌声更加打动人心。每个人都被她迷住了，特别是王子，称她为他的小孤女。她为了让王子高兴，又欣然跳起了舞，虽然每次脚一沾地，都像是踩在锋利的刀子上一样。

王子说她应该永远留在他的身边，她获准睡在他门口的一个天鹅绒垫子上。王子让人给她做了一身骑士的衣服，这样她就可以陪他骑马。他们一起骑着马在气味芳香的树林里穿行，绿色的枝条碰着他们的肩膀，小鸟儿在嫩绿的新叶间歌唱。她和王子一起攀上高高的山顶。她纤嫩的双脚流了那么多血，把脚印都染红了，但她只是欢笑着，一路跟着王子，最后，他们看见云彩在下面飘浮，像一群鸟儿向遥远的国度飞去。在王子的宫殿里，当所有的人都睡下后，她会走去坐在宽阔的大理石台阶上，把火辣辣的双脚浸在冰冷的海水里，缓解一下疼痛，这时她便会想起海底深处所有的一切。

有一天夜里，她的姐姐们互相挽着胳膊在海面漂浮，唱着忧伤的歌儿。她召唤她们，她们才认出了她，对她说，她让她们感到多么难过。在那之后，她们每天晚上都来到这里。一次，她还远远地看见她的老祖母，她已经许多年没有浮到海面了，还有年迈的海王，她的父亲，头上戴着王冠。他们朝她伸出双手，但他们不敢像她的姐姐们那样靠近陆地。

日子一天天过去，她对王子的爱更加深沉，王子像爱一个小孩子那样爱着她，却从没想过要娶她为妻。而如果王子不娶她，她就不可能得到一个不死的灵魂，在王子跟别人结婚的第二天早晨，她就会化为海上的泡沫。

“你难道不是爱我超过任何人吗？”王子把小人鱼抱在怀里，亲吻她光洁的额头时，小人鱼的眼睛似乎在说。

“是的，你是我的宝贝，”王子说，“因为你有一颗最美的心，你对我最忠诚。你就像我曾经见过的一位年轻姑娘，可惜我再也见不到她了。当时我坐的船沉了，海浪把我冲到一个神庙附近的岸边，有几个年轻姑娘在庙里做事。其中最年轻的那个姑娘发现了岸边的我，把我救活了。我只看见她两次，在这个世界上我只能爱她一个人。不过你很像她，你已经几乎把她的形象从我脑海里赶走了。她是属于神庙的，所以上天就把你送到我身边来代替她，我们永远也不会分开。”

“啊，他不知道救他性命的是我，”小人鱼想，“我把他从海上送到神庙所在的那片树林，我躲在泡沫下面注视着他，直到人们过来帮助他。我看见了那个他爱她胜过爱我的漂亮姑娘。”人鱼深深地叹息着，但她不会流泪。“他说那姑娘属于神庙，永远不会返回世间。他们不会再见面了，而我守在他的身边，每天都能看见他。我要好好地照顾他，爱他，为了他而放弃我的生命。”

不久，听说王子必须要结婚了，邻国的公主将成为他的妻子，一艘漂亮的船正在准备远航。虽然王子透露他只打算去拜访一下那位国王，但大家都猜测他是想去看他的女儿——那位公主。一大批人陪王子同去。小人鱼笑了笑，摇了摇头。她比任何人都了解王子内心的想法。

“我必须动身远航，”王子曾对她说，“我必须去见见那位美丽的公主，这是我父母的愿望，但是他们不能强迫我把她当作新娘娶回家来。我不能爱她。她不像神庙里的那位美丽姑娘，而你跟那姑娘长得很像。如果我必须选择一位新娘，我情愿选择你，我的哑巴小孤女，你有这么一双会说话的眼睛。”于是，他亲吻她玫瑰色的嘴唇，抚弄她波浪形的长发，把脑袋贴在她的心口，而她梦想着人类的快乐和一个不死的灵魂。“你不要怕海，我的哑巴孩子。”他说。他们站在那艘高贵的大船的甲板上，大船将要载他们到邻国去。他跟她讲风暴中的大海，风平浪静的大海，还有海里那些奇异的鱼，以及潜水者在海底看见的景象。她听着他的描述，淡淡地笑了，因为她比任何人都知道海底深处有着怎样奇异的景观。

月光下，船上的人都睡了，只有舵手还在掌舵，小人鱼坐在甲板上，透过清澈的海水朝下面凝望。她仿佛看见了父王的城堡，城堡上面是她年迈的祖母，头上戴着银色的王冠，透过涌动的潮水看着船底。然后姐姐们浮到了海面，神色忧伤地凝望着她，扭着她们洁白的双手。她向她们打招呼，微笑，她想告诉她们，她是多么平安、多么幸福。可是船舱的伙计走过来了，姐姐们潜入水下，伙计还以为自己看见的只是海面的泡沫。

第二天早晨，船驶入一座美丽城市的港湾，这座城市属于王子将要拜访的那位国王。教堂的钟声正在敲响，从高高的塔楼上传来嘹亮的喇叭声。士兵们全副武装，刺刀闪闪，在他们经过的岩石间列队欢迎。每天都像过节一样，舞会和狂欢一场接一场。

可是公主还没有露面。人们说她是在一座修道院里成长和接受教育，她在那里学习每一种高贵的美德。最后她终于来了。小人鱼一直迫不及待地想看看她是否真的美丽，见了她的面，她不得不承认从没见过比这位公主更完美的形象。她的皮肤白皙娇嫩，长长的黑色睫毛下面，一双爱笑的蓝眼睛里闪烁着真诚和纯洁。

“就是你，”王子说，“当我奄奄一息地躺在沙滩上时，是你救了我的命。”他把娇羞的新娘拥入怀中。“哦，我太幸福了。”他对小人鱼说。“我最甜蜜的梦想全都实现了。你会为我的幸福而感到高兴的，因为你对我的忠心是那样强烈而真诚。”

小人鱼亲吻王子的手，觉得自己的心已经碎了。王子婚礼的第二天早晨，就会带来她的死亡，她将会化为大海里的泡沫。所有教堂的钟声都在敲响，传令官骑马跑过城里的大街小巷，宣布公主结婚的消息。在每一个祭坛上，贵重的银灯里燃着香油。神父挥动着香炉，新娘和新郎手拉着手，接受主教的祝福。小人鱼穿着丝绸和金子做的衣服，托举着新娘的裙裾，可是她的耳朵听不见喜庆的音乐，她的眼睛也看不见神圣的庆典。她想到了即将到来的死亡之夜以及她在这个世界失去的一切。当晚，新娘和新郎就登上了船。礼炮轰鸣，彩旗飘舞，船的中央竖起了一顶紫色和金色的华贵帐篷。帐篷里有典雅的睡床，让新婚的一对夜里安歇。风势正好，把船帆吹得鼓鼓的，船在平静的海面上轻盈而平稳地行驶。天黑了，点起了许多彩灯，水手们在甲板上快乐地跳舞。小人鱼忍不住想起她第一次浮出海面的情景，当时她也看见了类似的喜庆和狂欢。她加入了跳舞的人群，像捕食的燕子一样悬在空中，在场的人都惊奇地为她喝彩。她以前从没跳得这样优雅美丽。一双柔嫩的双脚感觉像被锋利的刀子切割着，但她毫不在乎。一种更加剧烈的痛苦已经刺穿了她的心。她知道这是她最后一个夜晚看见王子，而她曾为王子放弃了她的亲人和她的家，放弃了她优美的声音，她每天为他忍受着前所未有的痛苦，而他一无所知。这是她最后一个夜晚与他呼吸着同样的空气，凝望璀璨的星空和幽深的海水。等待她的是一个永恒的黑夜，没有思想，也没有梦。她没有灵魂，而且永远也不可能得到了。大船上所有的人一直狂欢到午夜之后。她和别人一起欢笑、起舞，死亡的念头却一直占据心间。王子亲吻他美丽的新娘，新娘抚弄着他乌黑的头发，最后他们互相挽着胳膊，到华丽的帐篷里去休息。船上安静了下来，只有舵手独自醒着，站在舵前。小人鱼把洁白的手臂靠在船舷上，目光眺望着东方，等待着黎明的第一抹红霞，那第一道晨光将会带来她的死亡。她看见姐姐们从波涛中浮现：她们的脸色像她一样苍白，但她们美丽的长发已经被剪掉了，不再随风飘舞。

“我们把头发给了巫婆，”她们说，“为了给你寻求帮助，使你今晚不会死去。巫婆给了我们一把刀子，就是这把，你看，它非常锋利。在太阳升起之前，你必须把它刺入王子的心脏。当温热的血流到你脚上时，你的双脚就会重新合拢，变成一条鱼尾巴，你将再次变回一条人鱼，回到我们身边，活够你三百年的寿命，最后死去，变成大海上的泡沫。快点，太阳升起之前，不是他死，就是你亡。我们的老祖母为你伤心哭泣，她的白发因为悲伤而脱落，正如我们的头发在巫婆的剪刀下飘落一样。快杀死王子，回来吧。快。你难道没有看见天边那第一道红霞吗？再过几分钟，太阳就会升起，你就肯定要死了。”说完，她们悲哀地深深叹息，沉到了海浪下面。

小人鱼撩开帐篷的红色帷帘，看见美丽的新娘把脑袋贴在王子的胸膛上。她弯下身，亲吻王子光洁的额头，然后望着天空，玫瑰色的朝霞越来越明亮了。她看了一眼锋利的刀子，又把目光凝聚在王子身上，只听王子在睡梦中低声唤着新娘的名字。新娘占据了王子的心，刀子在小人鱼的手中颤抖。然后，她把刀远远地扔进了波涛中。刀落下去的时候，水变成了红色，溅起的水花看上去像血一样。她恍恍惚惚、恋恋不舍地看了王子最后一眼，便从船上投入了大海。她感觉自己的身体正在化为泡沫。太阳从海面上升起来了，温暖的阳光照在小人鱼冰冷的泡沫上，小人鱼并没有感觉她在死去。她看见了明亮的太阳，看见她周围漂浮着几百个透明而美丽的精灵。她可以透过她们看见大船白色的船帆和天空中红色的云团。她们说的话优美悦耳，却又是那么虚幻缥缈，凡人的耳朵听不见她们的声音，凡人的眼睛也看不见她们的模样。小人鱼发现她也拥有了跟她们一样的身体，而且不断地从泡沫里越升越高。“我在哪儿？”她问，声音听上去虚幻缥缈，跟她身边的那些精灵一样，所有凡间的音乐都不能与之比拟。

“在天空的女儿们中间。”其中一个精灵回答，“人鱼没有不死的灵魂，除非得到一个人类的爱，才能获得这样的灵魂。她永恒的命运依赖于另一个人的力量。但是天空的女儿们，她们虽然也没有不死的灵魂，却可以通过行善，为自己获取一个。我们飞到炎热的国度，给空气降温，消除给人类带来瘟疫的闷热。我们携带鲜花的芳香，播撒着健康和生机。我们经过三百年的努力，广做善事，就能得到一个不死的灵魂，进入人类的快乐天国。而你，可怜的小人鱼，曾经用你的整颗心去做我们正在做的事情。你受苦、忍耐，通过你的善行让自己升华到了精灵的世界。现在，你以同样的方式再努力三百年，就能得到一个不死的灵魂。”

小人鱼抬起被照亮的眼睛，朝太阳望去，感觉她的双眼第一次充盈着泪水。在她离开王子的那艘船上，充满了生命和喧嚣。她看见王子和美丽的新娘在寻找她。他们悲哀地凝视着海面珍珠色的泡沫，似乎知道她已经投入了大海。他们看不见她，她亲吻了新娘的额头，又轻轻抚摸了一下王子，便跟那些天空的孩子们一起，朝飘过太空的那片红云飞去了。

“三百年之后，我们就会飘入天国。”她说。“甚至还用不了那么久。”她的一个同伴轻声道。“我们可以悄悄地潜入有小孩子的人家，如果哪天我们发现了一个好孩子，给父母带来快乐，无愧于父母的爱，那么我们等待的时间就会缩短。那个孩子不会知道，我们飞过他的房间，为他的懂事听话而露出喜悦的微笑，我们的三百年就可以减去一年。可是，当我们看见一个不听话的、心眼不好的孩子，我们就会流下伤心的泪水，而每一滴眼泪都会使我们考验的时间增加一天！”

野天鹅

在燕子飞去过冬的地方，住着一位国王，他有十一个儿子和一个名叫艾丽莎的女儿。十一个哥哥是王子，每人胸前佩戴着一颗星星、身边别着宝剑去上学，用钻石的铅笔在金子做的写字板上写字，他们功课学得很快，读书一点儿也不费劲，旁人一眼就能看出他们是王子。妹妹坐在一张平板玻璃做的小板凳上，她有一本满是图画的书，价值半个王国。哦，这些孩子真的很幸福，可是好景不长。他们的父亲，也就是这个国家的国王，娶了一位非常邪恶的王后，她一点儿也不爱这些可怜的孩子。婚礼之后的第二天孩子们就知道了这一点。在举行盛大庆祝活动的宫殿里，孩子们玩招待客人的游戏。然而，他们不像平常那样能得到剩下来的所有蛋糕和苹果，王后只用茶杯装了一些沙子给他们，叫他们假装这就是蛋糕。一星期后，她把小艾丽莎送到农村一位农民夫妇那里，又对国王捏造了许多小王子们的坏话，国王也就不再看重他们了。

“自己到世界上去闯荡吧，”王后说，“像没有声音的大鸟一样飞走。”但是她不能把他们变得像她希望的那样丑，他们变成了十一只美丽的野天鹅。随着一声奇怪的叫声，他们飞出王宫的窗户，飞过庭院，飞向远处的森林。他们飞过农民的小木屋时天色还早，小妹妹艾丽莎还在屋里睡得正香。他们在屋顶上空盘旋，扭动着长长的脖子，拍打着翅膀，可是没有人听见他们的声音，看见他们的模样，于是他们只好飞走了，飞入高高的云端。他们在广阔的世界里飞翔，最后看到一片黑黢黢的茂密的森林，一直延伸到遥远的海边。可怜的小艾丽莎独自在房间里玩着一片绿叶，因为她没有其他东西可玩。她透过叶子朝太阳看，似乎看见了哥哥们清澈的眼睛，温暖的阳光照在她的面颊上，她想起了哥哥们给她的那些亲吻。日子就这样一天又一天过去了，有时风吹动着玫瑰花丛的叶子，对着玫瑰花低声细语，“谁能比你更美丽？”玫瑰花们摇摇头，说，“艾丽莎更美丽。”星期天，老妇人坐在小木屋门前读赞美书，风吹动着树叶，对书说，“谁能比你更虔诚？”赞美书回答，“艾丽莎。”玫瑰花和赞美书说的都是实话。艾丽莎十五岁的时候回家了，王后看到她出落得这么漂亮，心里又气又恨。她真想把艾丽莎变成一只天鹅，像她那些哥哥一样，可是她还不敢，因为国王希望见到自己的女儿。一天清晨，王后走进浴室。浴室是大理石建的，有柔软的靠垫，挂着最最精美的壁毯。她带了三只癞蛤蟆，挨个儿亲吻它们，然后对一只癞蛤蟆说，“艾丽莎洗澡的时候，你坐到她脑袋上，她就会变得像你一样愚蠢。”她又对第二只癞蛤蟆说，“你贴在她的额头上，她就会变得像你一样丑陋，连她父亲都认不出她来。”“趴在她的胸口，”她小声对第三只癞蛤蟆说，“她就会满心邪恶，并为此承担后果。”她把癞蛤蟆放进清水里，水立刻就变绿了。接着她叫来艾丽莎，让她脱去衣服，进入浴盆。艾丽莎把脑袋埋到水下，一只癞蛤蟆蹲在她的头发上，第二只贴在她的额头，第三只趴在她的胸口，但她似乎没有注意到它们，当她从水里出来时，水面上漂浮着三朵红色的罂粟。如果癞蛤蟆没有毒或没有被巫婆亲吻过，本来是可以变成红色的玫瑰的。总之，它们变成了花朵，因为它们在艾丽莎的头上和胸口停留过。艾丽莎太善良、太纯洁了，巫术对她不起作用。邪恶的王后看到这点，就用胡桃汁抹在艾丽莎脸上，抹得黑黢黢的，又把艾丽莎美丽的头发弄乱，涂上令人恶心的油膏，最后，漂亮的艾丽莎变得完全认不出来了。

父亲看见她，非常惊愕，大声说她不是他的女儿。只有看门狗和燕子还认识她，但它们只是可怜的动物，什么也不会说。可怜的艾丽莎哀哀哭泣，想念着她那远方的十一个哥哥。她悲哀地偷偷离开王宫，在田野和沼泽里走了整整一天，来到了大森林。她不知道该往哪个方向走，心情很不好，她特别希望见到跟她一样被赶出王宫的哥哥们，就决定去寻找他们。走进森林没多久天就黑了，她迷路了，于是她躺在柔软的青苔上，念了晚祷词，把脑袋枕在一个树桩上。四下里一片静谧，温柔的微风轻轻吹拂着她的额头。几百只萤火虫在草丛和青苔间闪烁，像绿色的火星。如果她轻轻地用手碰一下树枝，那些亮晶晶的昆虫就会像流星一样落下来，撒在她的身边。

她整夜都梦见她的哥哥们。她和他们又回到童年，在一起玩耍。她看见他们用钻石的铅笔在金子的写字板上写字，而她在看那本价值半个王国的精美的图画书。哥哥们不像过去那样写字母和句子，而是描绘他们做过的高贵的壮举以及他们发现和目睹的一切。图画书上，所有的东西都变成了活的。鸟儿在唱歌，人们从书里出来，跟艾丽莎和她的哥哥们说话。书页翻过去时，他们又迅速回到原来的地方，让一切井然有序。

她醒来时，太阳高高地挂在空中，但她却看不见，因为高大的树木将茂密的树枝铺在她的头顶，阳光星星点点地从树叶间洒下来，像一道金色的迷雾。空气里弥漫着葱绿的草木的芳香，小鸟们几乎栖息在她的肩头。她听见无数小溪涧的潺潺流水声，它们都流进一个金沙的湖里。湖的周围是茂密的灌木丛，小鹿在那里打开了一个缺口，艾丽莎就从这个缺口走到水边。湖水非常清澈，树枝和灌木如果不是被风吹动，就会像画在湖底上的一样，每片叶子，不管是阴影里的还是阳光下的，都清清楚楚地映在水中。艾丽莎一看见自己的脸那么黑、那么丑，简直吓坏了，可是当她浸湿小手，擦拭眼睛和前额时，白皙的皮肤又重新显露出来。当她脱掉衣服，让自己浸在清澈的湖水里之后，世界上再也找不到一个比她更美丽的公主了。她穿好衣服，编好长长的头发，来到潺潺的小溪边，用手掬着喝了一点水。她想起了哥哥们，她相信上帝不会抛弃她的。是上帝让树林里长出了野苹果，缓解了她的饥饿，此刻上帝正把她领到一棵野苹果树下，沉甸甸的果实把树枝都压弯了。她在这里吃了午饭，把东西放在树枝下，然后走进最幽暗的密林深处。四下里一片寂静，她能听见自己的脚步声，和枯叶被她踩碎时发出的咔咔声。看不见一只小鸟，也没有一丝阳光穿透浓荫密布的树枝。高高的树干一棵紧挨着一棵，她看着前面，感觉似乎被包围在篱笆丛里。她从没有体验过这样的孤独。夜晚一片漆黑，没有一只萤火虫在青苔上闪烁。

她悲哀地躺下来睡觉。过了一会儿，似乎头顶上的树枝分开了，天使用温柔的眼睛在天上俯视着她。第二天早晨醒来，她不知道这一幕是她的梦境，还是真的发生过。她继续漫无目的地往前走，没走多远，就看见一个老太太拎着一篮子浆果。老太太给她吃了几颗浆果，艾丽莎便问她有没有看见十一位王子骑马穿过树林。

“没有，”老太太回答，“但我昨天看见十一只天鹅，头上戴着金色的王冠，在附近的河里游来游去。”说完，她领着艾丽莎往前走了一段，来到一个斜坡，下面是一条蜿蜒的小河。两岸的树隔着河水把长满绿叶的长长枝条伸向对方，够不着的时候，便把根从泥土里拔起，让枝头的树叶在水面上互相交织。艾丽莎告别了老太太，顺着流淌的小河往前走，最后来到辽阔大海的岸边。艾尔莎的眼前出现了壮丽的海洋，水面没有一艘帆船，连一只小船也看不见。她怎么再往前走呢？她注意到岸边无数的鹅卵石被水的力量冲刷，磨得光滑、圆润。夹杂其间的玻璃、铁片、石头等所有的东西，都被同一种力量改变了形状，摸上去那么光滑，甚至比她纤细的小手还要光滑。“海水不知疲倦地流动，”她说，“把所有坚硬的东西磨得光滑。我也要不知疲倦地完成我的使命。谢谢你的忠告，明亮翻滚的浪花。我的心告诉我，你会把我带到我亲爱的哥哥们身边。”在泡沫覆盖的水草丛中，飘着十一根白色的天鹅羽毛，艾丽莎把它们拾起来，放在一起。羽毛上有点点水珠，是露水还是泪水，谁也不知道。海岸上只有她一个人，但她并没有感到孤独，大海涌动不息，几小时的变化就超过了大多数河流整整一年的变化。如果天空升起一片沉甸甸的乌云，大海仿佛在说，“我也能显出生气、发火的样子。”风刮起来的时候，海浪剧烈翻滚，泛起白沫。当风睡去，云彩被阳光映成红色时，大海看上去就像一片玫瑰花的叶子。但是，不管玻璃般的白色海面多么平静，海岸上仍有活动，海浪一起一伏，像熟睡的孩子的胸脯。太阳快要落山的时候，艾丽莎看见十一只头戴金冠的白色天鹅，一只跟着一只朝陆地飞来，像一根长长的白色丝带。艾丽莎走下岸边的斜坡，藏在灌木丛中。天鹅们落在离她很近的地方，闪动着巨大的白色翅膀。太阳刚在水面消失，天鹅的羽毛就脱落了，站在她面前的是十一位漂亮的王子，艾丽莎的哥哥们。艾丽莎发出一声喊叫，他们虽然变化很大，她还是一眼就认了出来。她扑进他们怀里，呼喊他们每个人的名字。王子们又看见自己的小妹妹了，多么高兴啊，虽然她已经出落得高挑、美丽，但他们还是认出了她。他们大笑，他们哭泣，并且很快就明白了后母对他们下了怎样的毒手。“我们这些兄弟，”最大的哥哥说，“当太阳还在天空时，像野天鹅一样飞来飞去。只有太阳落到山后，我们才恢复人形。因此，在太阳快要落山前，我们必须靠近一个可以落脚的地方。如果我们恢复原形时还在云端飞行，就会掉进大海。我们不住在这里，而是住在大海那边一个同样美丽的地方，要飞过很长的距离，其间没有岛屿可以让我们过夜，只有海上突出的一小块岩石，我们要紧紧挤在一起才能勉强站在上面，不掉进海里。有时海浪汹涌，泡沫溅在我们身上，但即使这块岩石也要感谢上帝的恩赐。我们在上面度过漫长的夜晚，不然就永远无法到达我们亲爱的祖国。飞越大海需要用去一年里最长的两个白天。我们每年只获准回家一次，呆十一天，在这期间我们在树林上空飞翔，再一次看看父王居住和我们出生的宫殿，看看母亲死后安眠的教堂。这里的一草一木都似乎跟我们有着关联。野马在原野上奔驰，跟我们小时候看见的一样。烧炭人唱着古老的歌谣，我们小时候曾随着歌声跳舞。这是我们的祖国，爱的纽带把我们牵连。我们在这里找到了你，亲爱的小妹妹。我们在这里只能再呆两天，然后就必须飞向那个美丽的、但不是我们家乡的国度。怎么带你一起走呢？我们没有船，连小划子都没有。”

“怎样才能破除这个咒语？”他们的妹妹说。她几乎整夜都在考虑这件事，只睡了短短几个小时。艾丽莎被天鹅们扑扇翅膀起飞的声音吵醒。哥哥们又变成了天鹅，他们绕着圈子飞，圈子越绕越大，逐渐远去了。最小的那只天鹅留了下来，把脑袋放在妹妹腿上，艾丽莎抚摸着他的翅膀。他们在一起呆了一整天。傍晚的时候，其他的天鹅回来了，太阳落山后，他们又恢复了原形。“明天，”一只天鹅说，“我们就要飞走，整整一年之后才能回来。我们不能把你留在这里。你有勇气跟我们一起走吗？我的翅膀很强壮，能带你飞过树林。我们的翅膀加在一起，还不能够带你飞过大海吗？”

“好的，带我走吧。”艾丽莎说。他们忙了一整夜，用柔软的柳枝和灯芯草编织了一张网。网又大又结实。艾丽莎躺在网上，太阳升起来的时候，哥哥们又变成了野天鹅。他们用嘴衔起网，带着仍在熟睡的亲爱的小妹妹飞向天空。阳光洒在艾丽莎的脸上时，有一只天鹅在她头顶上盘旋，用宽大的翅膀为她遮挡阳光。艾丽莎醒来时，他们已经离开陆地很远。她以为自己肯定还在做梦，被哥哥们带着、在高高的海面上空飞行，这感觉多奇怪啊。她身边放着一根树枝，上面结满了熟透的果子，还有一包甜甜的草根。这些都是那个最小的哥哥给她采来，放在她身旁的。她满怀感激地朝他微笑。她知道，刚才用翅膀给她遮挡太阳的也是这个哥哥。现在飞得真高啊，下面的大船看上去像白色的海鸥在水面掠过。他们身后的大云团看上去像一座大山，艾丽莎看见她自己和十一只天鹅的影子落在上面，显得那么巨大。它们共同构成了一幅图画，比她见过的任何图画都更美丽。太阳越升越高，云团被甩在后面，影子图画也消失了。整个白天，他们像一枚带翅膀的箭一样飞行，但速度比平常慢，因为要带着妹妹。暴风雨好像快要来了，艾丽莎看着逐渐西沉的太阳，心里十分焦虑，大海里的那块小岩石还没有看见。她觉得天鹅们正在拼命地扇动翅膀。唉！都是因为她，哥哥们不能飞得更快一些。太阳一落山，他们就会变成人形，落到大海里淹死。艾尔莎在内心深处暗暗祈祷，但岩石仍然不见踪影。乌云越来越近，一阵阵狂风预示着风暴即将来临，一道接一道闪电从厚厚的云层后面射出来。太阳已经落到大海边缘，天鹅们迅速向下俯冲，艾丽莎的脑袋在发抖。她以为他们在坠落，但紧接着又飞了起来。不一会儿，她看见那块岩石就在他们下面，这时候太阳已经被海浪遮去了一半。岩石看上去比露出海面的海豹脑袋大不了多少。他们下降的速度很快，脚刚踏上岩石，太阳就只像一颗星星了，最后像燃烧的纸片的最后一点火光，一闪而灭。艾丽莎看见哥哥们挽着手臂站在她周围。岩石只够他们勉强站在上面，一点多余的地方都没有。海水冲刷着岩石，把水花溅在他们身上。一道道闪电把天空照得透亮，一阵阵雷声滚滚而来。哥哥们和小妹妹拉着手坐在一起，唱着赞美诗，从歌里获得希望和勇气。清晨，海面又变得风平浪静，太阳升起时，天鹅们带着艾丽莎起飞，离开了岩石。大海仍然很不平静，他们在高高的天空，看见碧绿的海面浮着白沫，像几百万只天鹅在水里游泳。太阳越升越高，艾丽莎看见面前一片群山悬在空中，山顶有亮晶晶的积雪。积雪中间耸立着一座城堡，看上去有一英里长，那些石柱一排比一排高，城堡周围，棕榈树迎风摇摆，鲜花开得像风车那么大。她问哥哥这是否就是他们赶赴的陆地。天鹅们摇摇头，她看到的只是“海市蜃楼”那美丽的、变幻无常的云中宫殿，没有一个凡人能够进入。艾丽莎仍然注视着这幅景象，只见群山、森林和城堡逐渐消失，取而代之的是二十座威严耸立的教堂，高高的塔，哥特式的尖窗。艾丽莎甚至仿佛听见了风琴的乐音，其实那只是大海在喃喃低语。当他们靠近那些教堂时，教堂又变成了一支船队，似乎在她下面航行。可是她凝神细看时，却发现那只是蒸汽雾在大海上飘浮。她眼前的景物不断变幻，最后，她终于看见了他们真正的目的地，这里有蔚蓝色的群山，有雪松树林，还有城市和宫殿。早在太阳落山之前，艾丽莎就坐在一个大山洞前的岩石上，地上那些茂密而精致的绿色藤蔓植物，看上去像绣花的地毯。“现在我们可以听到你今晚会梦见什么了。”最小的哥哥把妹妹领到她的卧室，说道。

“上帝保佑，让我梦见怎么救你们吧。”她回答。这种想法牢牢地抓住了她的心，她恳切地请求上帝的帮助，即使在睡梦中也没有停止祈祷。她仿佛觉得自己在高空中，朝“海市蜃楼”的云中宫殿飞去，一位仙女出来迎接她，那么美丽，光彩照人，却又很像在树林里的那个老太太。老太太曾给她浆果，告诉她戴金色王冠的天鹅的消息。“只要你有勇气和毅力，”仙女说，“你的哥哥们就能得救。是的，水比你娇嫩的手还要柔软，但它能把石头磨得光滑。水没有灵魂，不会像你的手指那样感到疼痛，也不会忍受你必须忍受的那些痛苦和折磨。你看见我手里拿的带刺的荨麻了吗？你睡觉的山洞周围长着大量这种荨麻，但是它们对你没有用，你需要的是长在墓地坟头的荨麻。你把它们采集起来，你的手会被灼出水疱。用你的手和脚把它们撕成碎片，它们就会变成亚麻，你必须用亚麻纺线，织出十一件长袖衣服。把这些衣服抛在十一只天鹅身上，魔咒就会解除。千万记住，从你开始这项任务直到最后完成，即使要用去你一生的时间，你都不能说话。你一旦开口，你的话就会像致命的短剑一样刺穿你哥哥们的心脏。他们的生命全在你的舌头上。记住我对你说的话吧。”仙女说完，用荨麻轻轻碰了碰她的手，顿时一阵火辣辣的疼痛，惊醒了艾丽莎。

天已经大亮，在她睡觉的床边，有一根她在梦里看见的那种荨麻。她双膝跪下，向上帝表示她的感谢。然后她离开山洞，用她娇嫩的双手开始工作。她在丑陋的荨麻间摸索，双手和胳膊被灼出大大的水疱，但她决定愉快地忍受，只要能救出亲爱的哥哥们。她用一双光脚把荨麻踩碎，纺出亚麻线。太阳落山的时候，哥哥们回来了，他们发现艾丽莎变成哑巴都非常惊慌，以为又是那个邪恶的继母施的妖术。可是当他们看见她的双手，便明白她这么做是为了他们，最小的哥哥哭了，泪水滴落的地方，疼痛便减轻了，那些火辣辣的水疱也消失了。艾丽莎整夜没有停歇，她要救出亲爱的哥哥才能安心。第二天，哥哥们出去后，她独自坐在那里一整天，觉得时间从没有过得这么快。一件衣服已经织好，她开始织第二件，这时她听见了猎人们的号角，感到一阵恐惧。声音越来越近，她还听见狗的叫声，便惊恐地躲进了山洞。她把采集到的荨麻匆匆打成一捆，坐在上面。转眼间，一只大狗从山沟里蹿出，朝她扑来，接着又是一只，又是一只。它们汪汪大叫，跑回去，又跑回来。几分钟后，所有的猎人都站在山洞前，其中最英俊的那位就是这个国家的国王。他朝艾丽莎走来，因为他从没见过比她更美丽的姑娘。

“你是怎么到这里来的，可爱的孩子？”他问。艾丽莎摇摇头。她不敢说话，那会要了哥哥们的性命。她把双手藏在围裙下面，不让国王看见她在忍受怎样的痛苦。

“跟我走吧，”国王说，“你不能留在这里。如果你不仅美丽，而且善良，我会让你穿上丝绸和天鹅绒的衣裙，在你的头上戴上金色的王冠，你会住在我最富裕的城堡里，辖管一切，把那里当成自己的家。”他把艾丽莎抱到他的马背上。艾丽莎哭着拧着双手，国王说，“我只希望你能够幸福。你总有一天会为此感谢我的。”他坐在她身后骑在马上，在群山峻岭间奔驰，猎人们跟在后面。太阳落山时，他们来到一个美丽的皇城，有教堂和圆顶的高塔。到了城堡，国王领她走进大理石的门厅，那里有巨大的喷泉，墙壁和天花板上都绘着富丽堂皇的图画。可是艾丽莎没有心思欣赏这些辉煌的美景，只能悲哀、哭泣。她耐下心来让女人们给她穿上华贵的衣袍，把珍珠穿在她的发间，把柔软的手套戴上她布满水疱的手指。当她衣着华丽地站在人们面前时，看上去那样美丽，光彩照人，整个朝廷的人都在她面前深深鞠躬。国王宣布打算娶她为新娘，但是主教摇摇头，低声说那个漂亮的姑娘其实是个女巫，她迷住了国王的眼睛，蛊惑了他的心。国王根本不听，他命令奏乐，摆出美味佳肴，并让最可爱的宫女出来跳舞。然后他领着艾丽莎穿过芳香四溢的花园和高大的门厅，但艾丽莎脸上没有一丝微笑，眼里没有一点光芒。她完全就是悲哀的化身。然后，国王打开一个小房间，那是艾丽莎睡觉的地方。房间里装饰着华丽的绿色挂毯，很像国王发现她的那个山洞。地上放着那捆她用荨麻纺的亚麻线，天花板上挂着那件她织好的衣服。一个猎人把这些当成稀罕玩意儿，从山洞里拿了过来。

“在这里，你可以梦想自己又回到了山洞里的那个老家，”国王说。“这是你以前干的活儿。现在，在这金碧辉煌中间，它能让你快乐地回想起那个时候。”

艾丽莎看见这些心爱的东西，嘴角露出了笑容，面颊上泛起了红晕。她想起了哥哥们，想到他们将被解救，她高兴极了，亲吻了国王的手。国王把她搂在自己胸口。很快，教堂敲响了愉快的钟声，宣布婚宴开始，那个树林里来的美丽哑女将成为这个国家的王后。主教对着国王的耳朵说了一些恶毒的话，但国王并没有往心里去。婚礼仍要举行，到时候将由主教本人把王冠戴在新娘的头上。主教怀着刻骨的仇恨，把细细的金箍紧紧压在艾丽莎的额头，使她疼痛。而艾丽莎心头压着更加沉重的负担——她为哥哥们感到难过。她感觉不到肉体的痛楚。她闭着嘴巴，只要说出一个字，哥哥们就会付出生命的代价。但是她爱这位英俊的国王。国王想方设法让她一天比一天幸福。她用自己的整颗心爱着他，眼睛里闪烁着她不敢说出的爱意。哦！如果她能跟他倾吐心声，告诉他自己的悲哀，该多好啊。但是她必须装成哑巴，直到完成自己的使命。于是，她夜里偷偷溜进自己那个被布置得像那个山洞一样的小房间，飞快地编织一件又一件衣服。可是当她开始编织第七件衣服时，发现亚麻没有了。她知道她要用的荨麻生长在墓地里，她必须亲自去采。怎样才能去呢？“哦，跟我心中忍受的痛苦相比，手指的疼痛算得了什么？”她心想。“我必须冒险，绝不能辜负上天的帮助。”她的心在颤抖，就好像她要去干坏事一样，她在皎洁的月光下偷偷溜进花园，走过狭窄的小径和空无一人的街道，来到了墓地。她看见一块大大的墓碑上栖着一群食尸鬼。这些可怕的怪物脱掉身上的破衣烂衫，好像要洗澡似的，然后用长长的、瘦骨嶙峋的手指撬开新坟，拖出死尸吃肉！艾丽莎必须从他们身边经过，他们用邪恶的目光盯着她，但她默默地祈祷，采集那些灼人的荨麻，把它们带回城堡。只有一个人看见了她，就是那个主教——别人都睡着了，他还醒着。现在他认为事实证明他的想法是对的。这个女人确实不对劲儿。她是个女巫，用巫术迷住了国王和所有的国民。主教把自己的所见和担心偷偷告诉了国王，当恶毒的话语从他舌尖吐出时，圣徒们的雕像纷纷摇头，似乎想说，“不是这样。艾丽莎是无辜的。”

可是主教对此却有另外的解释。他相信圣徒们也认为她有罪，为她的邪恶而连连摇头。两颗大大的泪珠顺着国王的面颊滚落，他满心疑虑地回到家中，夜里他假装睡着，但眼睛里没有一点睡意，因为他看见艾丽莎每天夜里起床，钻进她自己的房间。时间一天天过去，国王的眉头越皱越紧，艾丽莎看见了，却不明白原因，但她感到惊慌，她的心为哥哥们颤抖。她滚烫的泪水像珍珠一样，在华贵的天鹅绒和钻石上闪闪发亮，所有看见她的人都希望自己也能成为王后。这个时候，她的任务快要完成了，只差一件外衣没有织好，可是亚麻没有了，荨麻也一根不剩。她只能再次冒险进入墓地，采集几把荨麻，这是最后一次了。想到要独自走进墓地，想到那些可怕的食尸鬼，她就感到恐惧，但她意志很坚决，而且相信天意。艾丽莎去了，国王和主教跟在后面。他们看见她穿过小门，进了墓地，再走近一点，他们像艾丽莎一样看见食尸鬼坐在墓碑上，国王转过脸去，以为艾丽莎跟他们是一伙的——而就在那天晚上，她还把脑袋贴在他的胸口。“必须让人民审判她，”他说。很快，大家就判她被火烧死。她离开富丽豪华的大厅，被领进一间阴暗可怕的牢房，风呼呼地透过铁栏杆刮进来。不再有天鹅绒和丝绸的服饰，他们把她织的荨麻衣服给她当被子，把那捆荨麻给她当枕头。没有什么比这些东西更让她高兴的了。她欣喜地继续她的使命，祈祷上天的帮助，街上的孩子在唱歌嘲笑她，没有一个人给她温柔的安慰。傍晚的时候，她听见格栅外有天鹅在扑扇翅膀，那是她最小的哥哥——他找到了妹妹，艾丽莎喜极而泣，虽然她知道这可能是她活在世上的最后一个夜晚。她仍然存有希望，因为使命即将完成，而且哥哥们都会赶来。这时，主教来了，他答应过国王，要在她临终的时候陪伴她。但是艾丽莎摇摇头，用神情和手势请求主教离开。她知道她必须在这个夜晚完成使命，不然她所有的痛苦、泪水和无眠的夜晚都将化为泡影。主教退去了，嘴里用恶毒的话咒骂她。可怜的艾丽莎知道自己是无辜的，她勤奋地继续工作。

小老鼠在地板上跑来跑去，把荨麻拖到她的脚边，竭尽所能地帮助她。画眉鸟蹲在窗户的格栅外，用最婉转的歌喉，整夜地为她唱歌，让她抖擞精神。

天还蒙蒙亮，离日出至少还有一小时，十一个兄弟站在城堡的大门外，要求去见国王。守门人说不行，天还没亮，国王还在睡觉，不能去打扰他。他们又是威胁，又是恳求。终于警卫出现了，国王自己也来了，询问这里闹哄哄的是怎么回事。就在这时，太阳升起来了。十一个兄弟不见了踪影，只有十一只野天鹅在城堡上空渐飞渐远。

人们纷纷地从城门口涌进来，看女巫被烧死。一匹老马拉着艾丽莎坐的马车。他们给她穿的是粗糙的麻布衣服。她的秀发松松地垂在肩膀上，她的面颊死一般苍白，嘴唇默默地翕动，手指仍然在编织绿色的亚麻。即使在赴死的路上，她也不肯放弃她的使命。她脚边放着十件外衣，手里正在拼命地织着第十一件，民众们在讥笑她，说，“看那个女巫嘴里念念有词！她手里没有赞美诗。她在那里玩弄邪恶的巫术。快把那些东西撕成碎片吧。”

他们朝她涌去，要毁掉那些外衣，就在这个时候，十一只野天鹅从空中飞来，落在马车上。他们扇动着大大的翅膀，人群惊慌地躲到一边。

“这是天意，证明她是无辜的。”许多人低语，但他们都不敢大声说出来。

刽子手抓住她的手，把她从马车里拽出来，她赶紧把十一件外衣朝天鹅抛去，他们立刻变成了十一位英俊的王子。但最小的王子的一条胳膊还是天鹅翅膀，因为艾丽莎没有织完衣服的最后一只袖子。

“现在我可以说话了，”她说，“我是无辜的。”

看见这一幕的人们纷纷朝她鞠躬，就像面对一位圣人一样。但她软软地倒在哥哥们的怀里，紧张、痛苦和煎熬把她彻底压垮了。

“是的，她是无辜的。”最大的哥哥说。他把事情从头到尾讲了一遍。在他讲的时候，一股香味在空气中弥漫，似乎有几百万朵玫瑰在绽放。火刑堆的每一根柴禾都生根发芽，冒出枝叶，形成一大片厚厚的、高高的树篱，上面布满了玫瑰花。在最顶上，绽放着一朵亮晶晶的白花，像星星一样闪闪发亮。国王摘下这朵花，放在艾丽莎的胸前，这时她苏醒过来了，心里满是平静和幸福。然后，所有教堂的钟都自动敲响，鸟儿成群成群地飞来。婚礼的仪仗队返回城堡，那庞大的阵势，没有一个国王曾经见过。

丑小鸭

正是夏天，乡村的风光真是美丽极了。麦穗金黄，而燕麦还是碧绿碧绿的。干草堆在茂密的牧场上，鹳移动着两只红色的长腿走来走去，嘴里不停地说着埃及话，那是他妈妈教给他的语言。

绕过田野和牧场，有一片很大的树林，树林中央有很深的湖泊。是啊，乡村的景色确实非常可爱。在阳光最充足的地方有一座古宅，周围是一道很深的护城河，一蓬蓬硕大的羊蹄草从古宅墙上长出来，一直延伸到水面。有些羊蹄草长得真高啊，小孩子挺直身子都能被它没住。躲在羊蹄草丛中，就像在密林深处一样幽静、隐蔽，有一只母鸭子正蹲在窝里。她的小鸭子们快要孵出来了，她老蹲在窝里也蹲腻了，孵蛋可花了很长时间呢。而且，没有多少人来看望她，别的鸭子更喜欢在护城河里游泳，不愿意啪哒啪哒地走上来，坐在羊蹄草丛里，陪她聊天。

终于，鸭蛋一只接一只地裂开了。“吱吱，吱吱！”他们叫着。所有的小鸭子都活跃起来，探出了他们的小脑袋。

“嘎，嘎！”母鸭子叫，于是小鸭子们都放开嗓门叫了起来，一边在碧绿的草丛里东张张、西望望。鸭妈妈让他们尽情地看个够，因为绿色对眼睛是有好处的。

“哎呀，世界真大啊！”所有的小鸭子都说。比起鸭蛋壳里来，他们现在的活动空间可是大得多了。

“你们以为这就是整个世界么？”鸭妈妈说。“它一直延伸到花园的另一边，延伸到牧师的田野里呢，不过我从来没去过那么远的地方。怎么样，你们都出来了吧？”她站起身，左右看了看。“哟，我还没有把你们全都孵出来！那只最大的蛋还在那儿呢。它还需要多长时间呢？”鸭妈妈说着，在窝里重新蹲了下来。

“你好啊，最近怎么样啊？”一只老母鸭过来看她，问道。

“这一只蛋花的时间太长了！”孵蛋的母鸭回答。“壳儿就是不裂。可是你一定要看看别的。我从来没见过这么可爱的小鸭子。跟他们的爸爸长得一模一样，那个该死的——他一次也不来看我。”

“让我看看那个不裂的蛋，”老母鸭说。“不用说，这肯定是一个火鸡蛋！有一次我就上了这种当，那些家伙给我带来了没完没了的麻烦，把我的心都操碎了，告诉你吧，他们居然怕水！我根本没办法让他们下水。我朝他们又是叫，又是咬，全不管用。让我看看那个蛋！没错，就是火鸡蛋。你快别管它了，去教别的孩子游泳吧。”

“我再孵一小会儿吧。我已经孵了这么长时间，不妨就孵到仲夏集市开始的时候吧。”

“那就随你吧，”老母鸭说完就走了。

最后，那只大蛋终于裂开了。“吱，吱！”小家伙一边叫，一边跌跌撞撞地爬了出来。哎呀，他长得多大、多丑啊！母鸭子看着他。

“这只小鸭子真是大得吓人，”她说。“别的小鸭子都跟他不一样。难道他真是小火鸡？不要紧，我们很快就能弄清楚的。他一定要下水，哪怕我亲自把他踢下去。”

第二天，天气非常晴朗，阳光照在碧绿的羊蹄草上。母鸭子带着所有的小鸭子来到了护城河边。

扑啦啦！她一下跳进水里。“呷，呷，”她叫，小鸭子一只接一只也跳了进去。水淹没了他们的脑袋，但是他们很快抬起头来，优雅地漂浮着。他们的腿自己就会划水，一个都不赖。就连那只大块头的、灰不溜秋的丑鸭子也和他们一起游来游去。

“嗯，不是火鸡，”鸭妈妈说。“看他的腿划得多漂亮，身子挺得多直。他是我嫡嫡亲亲的小鸭子，其实，如果仔细看看，他还不算难看。呷，呷！好了，大家跟我来，我要带你们去见见世面，把你们介绍给鸭场。不过一定要一直紧跟着我，免得被踩着。千万留神那只猫！”

他们走进鸭场。里面闹哄哄的，十分吓人，两只小鸭子正在抢夺一个黄鳝头，打得难解难分，最后却被猫得了手。

“世界上的事情就是这样的，”母鸭子说着，咂了咂嘴，因为她自己也很想吃那个黄鳝头。

“把你们的小腿动起来，”她说。“注意你们的叫声，要朝那边的老鸭子低头鞠躬。她是我们中间最有身份的，有西班牙血统，所以块头那么大。你们看见吗，她腿上系着一块红布，那可是个了不起的好东西啊，一只鸭子能得到这样的荣誉，实在是不同寻常。这显然说明了有人舍不得她，她应该得到人和动物的承认！呷，好了！不要把脚往里拐！一个有教养的小鸭子应该像爸爸妈妈一样，把两条腿分得开开的。对了。好，现在低下脑袋，说‘呷’！”

小鸭子们按鸭妈妈的吩咐做了，可是别的母鸭子扭过头来看着他们，声音很大地说，“你看看，你看看！又来了这么一大帮，就好像我们还不够多似的。哦，天哪，那只小鸭子真丑啊！我们可受不了他。”一只母鸭子立刻扑过来，咬了一口他的脖子。

“随他去，”鸭妈妈说。“他并不惹是生非。”

“那倒是，”咬他的那只母鸭说。“可是他太难看、太古怪了，必须挨一顿打。”

“这些小鸭子真不错，”腿上系红布的老母鸭说。“他们长得都很漂亮，只有这一只除外。他可不是个好品种。真可惜你不能把他纠正过来。”

“那是不可能的啊，陛下，”鸭妈妈说。“他虽说模样不好，却是只无可挑剔的好鸭子呢，游起泳来和别的鸭子一样漂亮。我还想斗胆补充一句，他长长就会变好看的，说不定还会变小呢。他在蛋里呆的时间太长了，出来时的模样就不太中看。”说着，她拍了拍丑小鸭的脖子，轻轻地抚摸他。“而且，他是一只公鸭，”她说。“模样俊不俊也没啥关系。我相信他会长得很结实，肯定会在世界上立住脚的。”

“别的小鸭子都很漂亮，”老母鸭说。“好了，你们在这里随意玩耍吧，如果发现了黄鳝头，就拿来给我。”

在这之后，他们就感到很自在了。可是，那只最后出壳的可怜的小鸭子，因为模样太丑了，别人总是咬他、推他、挤他，不仅母鸭取笑他，连母鸡也捉弄他。“真是个傻大个儿，”她们都说。那只公火鸡，生下来的时候浑身带刺，就以为自己是个皇帝，他竖起全身的羽毛，像一艘鼓满了帆的船，直朝丑小鸭扑来，一边不停地咯咯大叫，最后满脸涨得通红。可怜的丑小鸭毫无办法，被逼得走投无路。他心里真难过啊，自己模样太丑，成了整个鸭场嘲笑的对象。

第一天就这样过去了，后来事情越来越糟糕。大家都追赶、欺负丑小鸭，就连他的哥哥姐姐也对他不好。他们总是说，“让猫把你叼去才好呢，你这个丑八怪！”甚至鸭妈妈也说，“上帝保佑，你远远地离开这里就好了。”母鸭子们咬他，母鸡们啄他，那个喂食的姑娘也用脚把他踢到一边。

于是他跑了，从篱笆上面飞过去，惊得小鸟儿纷纷飞上了天空。

“这都是因为我太丑了，”可怜的丑小鸭想，闭上了眼睛，但还是一个劲儿往前跑。后来他到了野鸭子居住的大沼泽地。他实在太累、太难受了，就留在那里过了一夜。早上，野鸭子们飞过来打量这个新来的同伴。

“你是个什么样的家伙呀？”他们问道，丑小鸭把脑袋转来转去，尽量跟他们打招呼。“你真是丑得吓人，”野鸭子们说，“不过只要你不跟我们家族结婚，那倒没什么关系。”可怜的家伙！他压根儿就没想过结婚的事。他只巴望他们能允许他躺在灯心草丛中，喝几口沼泽地里的水。

他在那里呆了整整两天。后来，两只野鹅，准确地说，是两只野公鹅，过来了。他们刚出壳不久，还不太懂规矩。

“喂，伙计，”他们说，“你长得太丑了，倒很让我们喜欢呢！你愿不愿意跟我们在一起，做一只候鸟呢？附近还有一片沼泽地，那里有许多可爱的野鹅。都是些温柔的、会呷呷叫的年轻女士！你长得这么丑，在她们那里准能交上好运。”就在这时，上空传来“砰，砰”两声，两只野鹅一头栽进芦苇丛中，死了，鲜血染红了水面。“砰，砰，”枪声不断，整个野鹅群都从灯心草丛中惊飞起来，子弹像雨点一样朝他们射去。

那是一支庞大的打猎队，猎手们就埋伏在沼泽地周围。有的甚至坐在腾于水面的树枝上。蓝色的硝烟像乌云一样，从黑黢黢的树林里升起，弥漫在沼泽地上。

猎狗回来寻找猎物，在湿地里走来走去——扑啦啦，扑啦啦！灯心草和芦苇被他们踩得东倒西歪。可怜的丑小鸭看了，心里害怕极了。他拼命把脑袋转过去藏在翅膀底下，就在这时，一只吓人的大猎狗出现在他身边。狗的舌头从嘴里吐出来，眼睛里闪着凶光。他凑近丑小鸭，张开可怕的血盆大口，露出锋利的尖牙，然后——扑啦啦！走了，碰也没碰丑小鸭一下。

“哦，谢天谢地！”丑小鸭叹了口气。“我太丑了，连狗都不愿意咬我！”

他一动不动地躺着，听着子弹在灌木丛中呼啸而过，“砰，砰”的巨响划破天空。后来，声音总算平息了，但即使这个时候，可怜的丑小鸭也不敢出来。他又等了几个小时，才探出头来到处看看，然后飞快地逃离了那片沼泽地。他跑过一片片田野，跑过一个个牧场，风刮得真大啊，他跑得很费劲。

夜幕降临了，他来到一座贫穷的小屋前。这小茅屋实在太破旧了，之所以还没有倒，是因为它还没有拿定主意朝哪边倒。狂风嗖嗖地刮着，为了不被刮跑，丑小鸭只好坐在地上，可是风还在越刮越大。这时，他看见小屋门上的合页掉了一个，门歪斜着，他可以从这缝隙钻进屋去，就这样，他进了小屋。

小屋里住着一个老太婆，还有她的猫和母鸡。这只她唤作“乖儿”的猫，会弓起后背，呜噜呜噜地叫，而且身上还能迸出火星，不过你需要反着抚摸她的毛才行。母鸡的腿又细又短，所以被唤作“短腿鸡儿”。她下蛋不错，老太婆非常喜欢她，就像喜欢自己的亲生孩子一样。

早晨，这只陌生的小鸭子立刻就被发现了，猫开始“呜噜呜噜”，母鸡也“咯咯”地叫起来。

“这是怎么回事呀？”老太婆转过头来问道，可是她的眼神儿不好，还以为丑小鸭是从什么地方跑出来的一只大肥鸭呢。“这可真是个意外的收获呀！”她说。“这下我就有鸭蛋吃了——但愿别是只公鸭。我们等等看吧。”

于是，她考验了丑小鸭三个星期，可是一个鸭蛋也没有出现。猫是这个家里的老板，母鸡是老板娘。他们总是说，“我们和整个世界，”以为她们代表着世界的一半，而且还是比较好的那一半。

丑小鸭认为在这个问题上有两种意见，可是猫根本就听不进去。

“你会下蛋吗？”她问。

“不会。”

“那你就行行好，把嘴闭上！”

然后猫说，“你能弓起后背，‘呜噜呜噜’地叫，或者迸出火星吗？”

“不会。”

“那在聪明人说话的时候，你最好留着你的想法！”

丑小鸭闷闷不乐地坐在屋角。他开始想念新鲜空气和阳光，他内心产生了一种无法控制的渴望，想在水上漂浮。最后，他忍不住把这想法告诉了母鸡。

“你这是撞了什么鬼呀？”母鸡问。“你整天什么事也不做，才会有这些怪念头钻进你的脑子里。你下几个蛋，或者学着‘呜噜呜噜’叫，就不会有这样的念头了。”

“可是在水面上漂浮多么美妙啊，”丑小鸭说。“扎进水底，让水冲上脑袋的感觉多么美妙啊。”

“那倒是个不错的乐趣！”母鸡说。“我想你准是疯了。去问问猫吧。我认识的人里就数他最聪明了。问问他是不是喜欢在水上漂浮或一头扎进水里。我姑且不说我自己。问问我们的女主人，问问老太婆本人吧。世界上没有人比她更机灵的了。你认为她愿意在水上漂浮或者一头扎进水里吗？”

“你们不理解我，”丑小鸭说。

“噢，我们不理解你，那谁能理解你呢？姑且不提我自己，你总不会以为自己比猫、比老太婆还聪明吧！别犯傻了，孩子，感谢命运吧，我们给了你这么多恩惠。你不是住在这间温暖的屋子里，可以从交往的人这里学到一些东西的吗？没想到你是个白痴，跟你交往一点儿乐趣也没有。你相信我好了：我对你没有恶意。我是跟你实话实说，要弄清谁是自己的朋友，没有比这更可靠的方法了。你就赶紧下几个蛋，或者学会呜噜呜噜叫，让身上迸出火星来。”

“我想到野外的世界里去，”丑小鸭说。

“噢，那就随你的便吧，”母鸡说。

于是丑小鸭就走了。他在水上漂浮，一头扎进水里，可是他长得太丑了，别的动物都瞧不起他、不理睬他。秋天来了。树林里的叶子渐渐枯黄。风把它们吹得四处飘舞。天空看上去阴森寒冷，云里裹着雪和冰雹，沉甸甸地挂在天空。一只大乌鸦栖在栅栏上，冻得哑着嗓子“呱呱”直叫。想一想就叫人忍不住发抖。不用说，可怜的丑小鸭日子很难过！

一天傍晚，冬天的太阳刚刚落山，天空泛着白光，一群美丽的大鸟从灌木丛中飞了出来。丑小鸭从没见过这么美丽的事物。他们白得耀眼，长长的脖子弯成弧形。是天鹅！他们发出奇特的叫声，展开气派的宽大翅膀，从寒冷地区飞到温暖的地方和开阔的水面。他们飞得那么高、那么高，丑小鸭心里感到一种奇怪的不安。他像轮子一样在水里转了一圈又一圈，使劲把脖子伸向空中，追望他们的背影。哦，他永远忘不掉这些美丽的鸟、快乐的鸟。他们从视野中消失了，丑小鸭一头扎进水里，等他重新浮出水面，他心里兴奋极了。他不知道这是些什么鸟，也不知道他们飞往哪里，但是他不由自主地被他们吸引，这是以前从没有过的。他一点儿也不嫉妒他们。他怎么可能希望自己拥有这样惊人的美呢？只要鸭子们能够容忍他、接纳他，他就感激不尽了——可怜的丑小鸭。

这个冬天冷极了，丑小鸭必须不停地游来游去，不让水面结冰，可是每过一个夜晚，他游动的那片水域就又变小了一些。后来冻得太厉害了，冰面有了裂纹，丑小鸭必须不停地摆动他的脚，不让他周围的冰冻结起来。最后，他实在累坏了，没有力气再游动，就被结结实实地冻在了冰里。

清晨，一个农民过来看见了他。农民走到冰面上，用厚重的木鞋在冰上砸出一个洞，把丑小鸭抱回去给他的妻子。丑小鸭很快就苏醒了。孩子们想跟他玩儿，但丑小鸭以为他们要来伤害他，吓得乱跑，撞在牛奶盆上，牛奶洒得屋里到处都是。妇人尖叫着举起双手。接着丑小鸭撞倒了黄油桶，又钻到膳食桶里再钻出来。想象一下他现在成了什么模样吧！妇人大声叫着，举着烧火钳来打他。孩子们都来抓他，互相绊着，跌成一团，又笑又嚷。幸好，房门开着，丑小鸭跑进灌木丛和新落的雪中。他躺在那里，浑身一点力气也没有了。

要说起丑小鸭在严冬里遭受的所有贫困和苦难，实在太令人悲伤了。当太阳重又暖洋洋地照着大地，丑小鸭躺在沼泽地里的杂草丛中。百灵鸟在歌唱，美丽的春天来了。

突然，他耸起翅膀，觉得翅膀扇动起来比以前有力得多，充满活力地带着他向前飞去。他还没有反应过来，就发现自己来到了一个大花园里，苹果树上开满了花，空气里弥漫着丁香花的香味，长长的丁香花枝条垂落在湖岸上。哦，清新的春色多么令人陶醉！

就在他的前面，他看见三只美丽的白天鹅从灌木丛中向他游来。他们在水面轻盈地游着，羽毛微微撩动。丑小鸭认出了这些高贵的鸟，一种莫名的忧伤袭上他的心头。

“我要飞向他们，飞向这些高贵的鸟，他们肯定会把我撕成碎片，因为我长得这么丑，居然敢去靠近他们！可是没关系！我情愿被他们杀死，也不愿被鸭子咬、被公鸡啄、被母鸡踩，或者在冬天遭受那么多痛苦。”

于是他飞进水中，朝那些气宇轩昂的天鹅游去。他们看见了他，抖动着羽毛朝他冲了过来。

“杀死我吧！”可怜的丑小鸭说着，垂下脑袋，迎接自己的死亡。可是，他在明净如镜的水里看见了什么？

他看见了自己的倒影，却不再是一只难看、笨拙、丑陋的灰溜溜的小鸭子。他也成了一只天鹅！只要是从天鹅蛋里孵出来的，即使出生在养鸭场也丝毫没有关系！

他为自己所遭受的所有痛苦和磨难感到欣慰，这使他更深切地感受到如今的幸福和面前所有的美。那几只大天鹅在他身边游了一圈又一圈，用嘴轻轻地抚摸他。

几个小孩到花园里来了，带着玉米粒和面包片，他们把食物扔进水里，最小的那个孩子大声喊道，“有一只新的！”别的孩子也高兴地喊道，“是啊，新来了一只。”他们拍着手跳来跳去，跑去叫他们的爸爸妈妈。他们把面包扔进水里，都说，“这里面就数这只新的最漂亮。他这么年轻、这么好看。”几只老天鹅低下脑袋，向他表示敬意。

他觉得很不好意思，把脑袋藏在翅膀底下。他不知道该怎么想。他非常快乐，但一点儿也不骄傲，因为一颗善良的心永远不会骄傲。他想起他曾经怎样被追逐、被歧视，现在他听见他们都说他是所有最美丽的鸟儿中最美丽的一只。丁香花在他面前把枝条垂落在水里，灿烂的阳光温暖宜人。他抖动羽毛，高高抬起修长的脖子，怀着满心的喜悦说道，“当我还是个丑小鸭时，我做梦也没想到这样的幸福啊！”

卖火柴的小女孩

一个寒冷刺骨的除夕之夜，天色已经很晚了。雪在下着。一个可怜的小女孩在漆黑冰冷的街道上漫无目的地走着；她没戴帽子，光着两只脚。当然啦，她从家里出来的时候是穿着鞋子的，可是也不管什么用，因为鞋子太大了，本来是她母亲穿的。可怜的小女孩跑过马路，躲避飞快驶来的两辆马车时，两只鞋子从脚上掉了下来。一只再也找不到了，另一只被一个男孩捡去，他拿着鞋子跑开，说将来有了自己的孩子要用它做摇篮。

就这样，可怜的小女孩只好光着脚走路，两个小脚丫冻得又青又紫。她的旧围裙里装着许多火柴，手里也拿着一包火柴。

整个一天都没有人来买她的火柴，没有人给过她一个铜板。可怜的小家伙又冷又饿，凄惨极了。

雪花落在她黄色的长头发上，头发打着美丽的卷儿，衬托着她的脸蛋，可是她没有心思注意这个。每一扇窗户都透出明亮的灯光，街道上弥漫着十分诱人的烤鹅的味道，要知道这是除夕之夜啊。她不可能忘记这一点！她找到一个墙角——一座房子比旁边的房子稍微突出来一些，她在这里蜷缩着蹲下来，把两只脚垫在身子底下，可是觉得比刚才更冷了。她不敢回家，因为没有卖出一根火柴，没有挣到一分钱。爸爸肯定会打她的，而且家里也跟这里差不多冷。只有一片屋顶，虽然他们用破布和稻草堵住了最大的裂缝，但风还是嗖嗖地刮进来。

她的小手几乎冻僵了。哦，一根小小的火柴肯定会使她舒服一些！只要她有胆量，就可以从包里抽出一根，在墙上擦着了，暖一暖手指。她真的抽出一根。嚓——！火苗腾地冒了出来！她用小手拢着，火柴像小蜡烛一样燃烧出明亮的火焰。

在她眼里，这火光看上去多么奇异！小姑娘幻想自己坐在一个脚炉前面，脚炉的铜脚和铜把手都擦得亮亮的。炉子里燃着熊熊的旺火，烤得她暖洋洋的，可是——怎么回事？她正要把两只脚伸过去暖和暖和，火灭了，炉子消失了——她还是坐在墙角，手里拿着一根燃过的火柴梗。

她又擦着一根火柴。明亮的火苗蹿了起来，火光落在墙上，墙变得像薄纱一样透明，她能直接看到房子里的情景。

桌上铺着雪白的桌布，放着精美的瓷器。还有一只热腾腾的烤鹅，肚子里塞着苹果和李子。更奇妙的是，那只鹅竟然从盘子里跳下来，摇摇摆摆地在地板上走，背上还插着刀子呢。它径直朝可怜的小女孩走来——火柴灭了，眼前只有厚厚的、黑黢黢的墙壁。

她又擦着一根火柴。这次她坐在一棵美丽的圣诞树下。这棵树比她去年圣诞节透过富商家的玻璃门看到的那棵还要大，装饰得还要漂亮。树枝下面闪烁着几千支点亮的蜡烛。树上还挂着她在橱窗里看到过的彩色图片。小女孩朝它们伸出双手——接着火柴熄灭了。所有的圣诞蜡烛越升越高，最后她看见它们都变成了闪亮的星星。其中一颗星星落下来，在天空划过一道明亮的轨迹。

“有一个人要死了，”小女孩想，因为她年迈的奶奶，这个世界上唯一疼爱她的人，曾经说过，“一颗星星坠落，就有一个灵魂到上帝那里去了。”

她又在墙上擦着一根火柴，这次她的奶奶在光环中出现了。小女孩清清楚楚地看见了奶奶，她显得那么温柔、那么快乐。

“奶奶！”小家伙喊道。“哦，带我一起走吧。我知道火柴一灭你就会消失。就会像温暖的火炉、美味的烤鹅，和那棵美丽的圣诞树一样消失！”

她赶紧擦亮了整把的火柴，因为她多么渴望把奶奶留在身边。火柴的光照得周围像白天一样。奶奶从来没有显得像现在这么高大、这么美丽。她把小女孩抱在怀里，在明亮和快乐的光圈中，两人一起朝地球上空飞去、飞去，那里没有寒冷、没有饥饿、没有痛苦——因为她们将与上帝在一起。

在寒冷的晨光中，可怜的小女孩坐在那里，坐在两座房子之间的墙角里，面颊红扑扑的，脸上带着微笑——死了。在旧年的最后一个夜晚冻死了。新年的曙光照在这具小小的尸体上，那一把燃尽了的火柴梗还抓在她手里。

“她一定是想让自己暖和暖和，”他们说。谁也不知道她曾经看见过多么美丽的画面，谁也不知道在新年的光芒中，她和奶奶一起进入了一个怎样的幻境。

小克劳斯和大克劳斯

从前，在一个村子里，住着两个同样名字的人。他们都叫克劳斯。一个有四匹马，另一个只有一匹，为了区分，人们就管有四匹马的那个叫“大克劳斯”，有一匹马的那个叫“小克劳斯”。下面让我们听听发生在他们身上的事情，这可是一个真实的故事。

整整一星期，小克劳斯都必须替大克劳斯耕地，并且把自己的那匹马借给他，每星期只有一次，大克劳斯把自己的四匹马借给他，那是在星期天。小克劳斯使劲用鞭子抽打着五匹马，那一天它们就像他自己的马一样。太阳明晃晃地照着，教堂的钟声愉快地敲响了，人们穿着最好的衣服，胳膊底下夹着祈祷书，从他身旁走过。他们要去听牧师布道。他们看着小克劳斯赶着五匹马耕地，把鞭子摔得啪啪响，嘴里说道：“加把劲儿，我的五匹马。”

“不许你这么说，”大克劳斯说，“只有一匹马是你的。”可是小克劳斯很快就忘记了应该怎么说，看到有人走过，他大声喊道：“加把劲儿，我的五匹马！”

“我不许你再这么说了，”大克劳斯说，“如果你再这么说，我就打你马的脑袋，它就会当场倒在地上，一命呜呼。”

“我向你保证我再也不这么说了。”小克劳斯说。可是刚一有人经过，朝他点点头，问候一声“你好”，他便高兴起来，想到有五匹马在他田里干活显得多么气派，他就又大声喊道：“加把劲儿，我所有的马儿们！”

“我来给你的马加把劲儿。”大克劳斯说。他抓起一个锤子，敲打小克劳斯那匹马的脑袋，马立刻就倒地死去了。

“哦，现在我一匹马也没有了。”小克劳斯哭着说。过了一阵，他剥下死马的皮，挂在风中晾干。然后他把干马皮装在一个口袋里，背在肩上，到另外一个镇上去卖马皮。路很远，要经过一座黑黢黢、阴森森的树林。不一会儿，暴风雨袭来，他迷了路，没等摸清方向，天就黑了，到镇上还有很长的路，而离家已经很远，不可能在天黑前赶回去了。路旁有一座很大的农舍。窗户外面的窗板都关着，但是窗户顶上的缝隙里透出了灯光。“也许我可以在这里住一夜。”小克劳斯想。他走到门口，敲了敲门。农夫的妻子把门打开，可是听了他的请求，却叫他走开，因为她丈夫不会允许她让陌生人进屋。“那我只好躺在外面了。”小克劳斯自言自语地说，农夫的妻子当着他的面把门关上了。农舍旁边有一个大大的干草垛，在干草垛和房子之间有一个小棚子，屋顶上铺着茅草。“我可以躺在那上面，”小克劳斯看见屋顶，这样说道，“这倒是一张蛮不错的床，但我希望鹳鸟不要飞下来咬我的腿。”因为一只活生生的鹳鸟站在那里，它的窝就在屋顶上。于是，小克劳斯爬到棚子顶上，翻翻身子让自己舒服一些，却发现农舍窗户的百叶窗虽然关着，但没有关到顶，他能看见屋子里的情况：一张大桌子上摆着红酒、烤肉，还有一条漂亮的鱼。农夫的妻子和教堂司事一起坐在桌旁，女人给男人的杯里斟酒，还把大块的鱼肉分给他，看来这是他最喜欢吃的东西。“如果我也能吃一些该多好啊。”小克劳斯想。他把脖子使劲伸向窗口，又看见了一块漂亮的大馅饼——哎呀，真是一顿丰盛的美味佳肴。

这时，他听见路上有人骑马朝农舍奔来。是农夫回家了。他是个好人，但有一种非常奇怪的偏见——一看见教堂司事就无法忍受。如果一个教堂司事出现在他面前，他会立刻大发雷霆。由于他的这个偏见，教堂司事就趁农夫不在家的时候来拜访他的妻子，那个好心的女人把家里最好的东西端出来给他吃。妻子听见丈夫回来，非常害怕，请求教堂司事躲到屋里一个空的大柜子里去。教堂司事照办了，因为他知道农夫看见教堂司事就无法忍受。女人赶紧把红酒收了起来，还有所有好吃的东西都藏到了炉子里。如果被丈夫看见，他肯定会问把这些东西端出来做什么。

“哦，天哪。”小克劳斯看见所有的好东西都不见了，在屋顶上叹了口气。

“上面有人吗？”农夫问，他一抬头，看见了小克劳斯。“你躺在那上面做什么？快下来，跟我一起进屋去吧。”于是小克劳斯就爬下来，告诉农夫他迷了路，请求在这里借宿一晚。

“没问题，”农夫说，“但我们必须先吃点东西。”

女人非常亲切地欢迎了他们俩，在大桌子上铺了桌布，把一大盘粥放在他们面前。农夫饿急了，津津有味地吃粥，但是小克劳斯忍不住想起那美味的烤肉、鱼和馅饼，他知道它们都藏在炉子里呢。那个装着马皮的口袋就放在桌子底下他的脚边，他准备到下一个镇上把它卖掉。小克劳斯一点也不喜欢吃粥，就用脚在桌子下面使劲踩那个口袋，干马皮发出了刺耳的响声。“闭嘴！”小克劳斯对他的口袋说，同时又踩了几下，那刺耳的声音更响了。

“喂！你的袋子里装的什么呀？”农夫问。

“哦，是个魔术师，”小克劳斯说，“它说我们用不着吃粥，它已经变出了满满一炉子烤肉、鱼和馅饼。”

“太好了！”农夫喊道，他站起身，打开炉门。里面都是农夫的妻子藏起来的好东西，但他以为是桌子底下的魔术师变的。女人什么话也不敢说，把东西端到他们面前。他们俩都吃了鱼、肉和馅饼。

然后，小克劳斯又用脚去踩口袋，又发出了那种刺耳的声音。“这次它说什么？”农夫问。

“它说，”小克劳斯回答，“还有三瓶红酒给我们喝，就在炉子旁边的墙角里。”

女人只好把她藏的红酒也拿了出来，农夫喝了酒，情绪变得很快乐。他很想有一个小克劳斯装在袋子里的那种魔术师。“它能变出坏人来吗？”农夫问。“现在我心情很好，倒愿意看一看呢。”

“哦，没问题！”小克劳斯回答，“我的魔术师，我叫它做什么它就做什么——喂，你能变吗？”他问，一边使劲用脚踩口袋，让它发出刺耳的声音。“听见了吗？它回答‘能’，但它担心我们不喜欢那人的模样。”

“哦，我不怕。他是什么模样呢？”

“嗯，很像一个教堂司事。”

“哈！”农夫说，“那他肯定很丑。你知道吗，我一看见教堂司事就受不了。不过，没关系，我知道他是谁就不会害怕了。好了，我已经鼓足了勇气，可是别让他靠我太近了。”

“等等，我必须问问魔术师。”小克劳斯说。他使劲踩口袋，还把耳朵凑下去听。

“它说什么？”

“它说你必须过去打开墙角的那个大柜子，然后就会看见那个坏人躲在里面，但你必须把盖子抓牢了，别让他溜出来。”

“你能过来帮我扶住盖子吗？”农夫说着，就朝妻子藏教堂司事的柜子走去。他非常害怕，把盖子稍微打开一点点，朝里面窥望。

“哦，”他往后跳了一步，喊道，“我看见他了，跟我们的教堂司事长得一模一样。太可怕了！”他只好继续喝酒，他们就坐在那里一直喝到深夜。

“你必须把你的魔术师卖给我，”农夫说，“尽管开价吧，我给你钱。实际上，我可以马上给你一大斗金子。”

“说实在的，这可不能，”小克劳斯说，“想想我能靠这个魔术师得到多大的好处啊。”

“可是我多想得到它啊。”农夫不肯罢休，继续哀求。

“好吧，”最后小克劳斯说，“看你心肠这么好，收留我住了一晚，我也不忍心驳你的面子。你给我一斗金子，魔术师归你了，你可要把斗盛得满满的哦。”

“没问题，”农夫说，“你必须把那个柜子也一并拿走。我可不能让它再呆在我的家里了，谁知道那家伙是不是还在里面。”

于是，小克劳斯把装着干马皮的口袋交给农夫，换回了一大斗金子——满满一斗。农夫还给了他一辆手推车，把柜子和那斗金子放在上面推走。

“再见。”小克劳斯说，推着他的金子和大柜子走了，柜子里还藏着那个教堂司事呢。森林的一边是一条很宽很深的河，河水非常湍急，很少有人能在激流里游泳。河面上刚建了一座新桥，小克劳斯走到桥中央站住了，开始大声说话，故意让那个教堂司事听见，“我该拿这个蠢笨的柜子怎么办呢？它重得要命，好像里面装满了石头。再往前推会把我累坏的，我还是把它扔到河里去吧，如果它能跟着我顺流漂到我家，那再好不过，如果不能，也没什么关系。”

说完，他用手抓住柜子，抬起一点，假装要把它扔进河里。

“别扔，别扔，”教堂司事在柜子里喊道，“先放我出来。”

“哦，”小克劳斯惊叫道，假装被吓坏了，“他难道还在里面？我必须把他扔进河里，让他淹死。”

“哦，别，别，别，”教堂司事喊道，“如果你放我走，我给你满满一斗金子。”

“噢，那就是另外一回事了。”小克劳斯说着，打开柜子。教堂司事爬出来，把空柜子推进河里，走回家，量出满满一斗金子给小克劳斯。小克劳斯已经从农夫那里得到了一斗金子，现在手推车都装满了。

“我的马卖的价钱还不错。”到家时，他一边对自己说，一边走进房间，把所有的金子都倒在地上，堆成一堆。“大克劳斯如果知道我靠一匹马变得这样有钱，该是多么恼火啊。我可不能把事情原原本本地告诉他。”然后，他打发一个小男孩到大克劳斯家去借一个斗。

“他要斗做什么呢？”大克劳斯想，于是他在斗底抹了一些焦油，这样，斗里装过的东西便会粘在上面。果然不出所料，斗还回来的时候，斗底粘着三枚崭新的金币。

“这是怎么回事？”大克劳斯说。他直接跑到小克劳斯那里，问道，“你从哪儿弄到这么多钱？”

“噢，是用我的马皮换来的，我昨天把它给卖了。”

“卖的价钱可真不错。”大克劳斯说。他跑回家，抓起一把斧子，砍掉他的四匹马的脑袋，剥掉它们的皮，拿到镇上去卖。“马皮，马皮，谁买马皮？”他在街上边走边喊。所有的鞋匠和皮匠都跑了过来，问他想卖多少钱。

“每张皮子一斗钱。”大克劳斯回答。

“你疯了吗？”他们全都嚷道，“你以为我们有成斗成斗的钱可花？”

“马皮，马皮，”他又喊道，“谁买马皮？”可是不管谁问价，他都回答，“一斗钱。”

“他在拿我们开玩笑呢。”他们都说。于是，鞋匠操起皮带，皮匠抡起皮围裙，开始打大克劳斯。

“马皮，马皮！”他们学着他的声音喊道，“好啊，我们来给你的皮子做记号，把它弄得又青又紫。”

“滚出小镇去。”他们说。大克劳斯只好没命地逃跑，他以前从没挨过这么厉害的打。

“啊，”他回到家里，说，“小克劳斯必须为此付出代价。我要把他打死。”

就在这个时候，小克劳斯的老奶奶死了。她活着的时候脾气很坏，心眼歹毒，对小克劳斯很不好。但小克劳斯还是很难过，把死去的老太太放在自己温暖的床上，看能不能让她再活过来。他决定让老太太在床上躺一整夜，自己坐在墙角的一张椅子里，他以前也经常这么做。夜里，他坐在那里的时候，门开了，大克劳斯提着斧子走了进来。他很清楚小克劳斯的床在哪里，就直接走过去，用斧子砍了老奶奶的头，以为那肯定是小克劳斯。

“好，”他大声说，“这下你再也不能捉弄我了。”然后他就回家去了。

“这可真是一个坏人，”小克劳斯想，“他是想来杀我的。幸亏我的老奶奶已经死了，不然他肯定要了她的命。”然后，他给老奶奶穿上最好的衣服，问邻居借了一匹马，套上一辆马车。他把老妇人放在后座上，这样车走的时候她就不会掉出来，然后他就赶着车在树林里穿行。太阳升起的时候，来到一个大客栈，小克劳斯停住马车，进去弄点吃的。老板很有钱，同时也是个善良的人，可是脾气暴躁，似乎他是用辣椒和灯花做的。

“早上好，”他对小克劳斯说，“你今天来得很准时。”

“是啊，”小克劳斯说，“我带我的老奶奶到镇上去，她坐在马车后面，我没法儿把她弄进来。你能给她端一杯蜂蜜酒去吗？你可得扯足了嗓子说话，她耳朵有点背。”

“好的，没问题。”老板回答。他倒了一杯蜂蜜酒，端出去给死去的老奶奶，她直挺挺地坐在马车里。“这是你孙子孝敬你的一杯蜂蜜酒。”老板说。死去的老太太没有回答，只是一动不动地坐在那里。“你听不见吗？”老板扯大嗓门喊道，“这是你孙子孝敬你的一杯蜂蜜酒。”

他吼了一遍又一遍，老妇人纹丝不动，最后老板发火了，把那杯蜂蜜酒扔在她脸上。酒杯砸中了她的鼻子，她往后一仰，从车上摔了出来，因为她只是坐在那里，并没有被绑住。

“喂！”小克劳斯大叫着从屋里冲出来，一把揪住老板的脖子，“你把我的奶奶砸死了，看，她额头上有一个大洞。”

“哦，真倒霉啊，”老板扭着双手说，“都怪我的火爆脾气。亲爱的小克劳斯，我给你一斗钱，还把你的奶奶当成我的亲奶奶一样厚葬。只求你不要声张，不然他们会砍掉我的脑袋，那样就闹得不愉快了。”

于是，小克劳斯又得到了一斗钱，老板把他的老奶奶当成自己的亲奶奶一样埋葬了。小克劳斯回到家里，立刻就派一个小男孩去找大克劳斯，问他借一个斗。“这是怎么回事？”大克劳斯想，“难道我没有把他杀死？我必须去亲眼看看。”他拿着斗去找小克劳斯。“你是怎么弄到这么多钱的？”大克劳斯问，眼睛睁得大大的，盯着邻居的财富。

“你杀死的不是我，是我的奶奶，”小克劳斯说，“我把她卖了一斗钱。”

“这绝对是个好价钱。”大克劳斯说。于是，他回到家，拿起一把斧头，一下就把他的老奶奶砍死了。他把老奶奶装在马车上，赶车到镇上去找药剂师，问他愿不愿意买一具尸体。

“谁的尸体？你从哪儿弄来的？”药剂师问。

“是我的奶奶，”大克劳斯回答，“我用斧头把她砍死了，这样我可以拿她卖一斗钱。”

“上帝保佑！”药剂师喊道，“你疯了吧？你千万别说这样的话，不然会掉脑袋的。”他严肃地跟大克劳斯谈话，说他做的事情多么邪恶，并说这样的坏人肯定会受到惩罚。大克劳斯听了害怕极了，冲出药店，跳上马车，用鞭子抽马，飞快地逃回了家。药剂师和其他人都认为他是疯了，也就让他赶车走了。

“你要为此付出代价，”大克劳斯一拐上大路就说，“等着瞧吧，小克劳斯。”他一到家就找到一条最大的麻袋，拿着去找小克劳斯。“你又给我耍了个花招，”他说，“第一次，我杀死了我所有的马，后来，又杀死了我的老奶奶，这全是你搞的鬼。你以后再也别想捉弄我了。”他一把抱住小克劳斯的身体，把他塞进了麻袋，然后把麻袋扛在肩上，说，“我要把你扔到河里淹死。”

到河边去的路很远，小克劳斯的分量可不算轻。路上经过教堂，可以听见风琴在演奏，人们在用悦耳的声音唱歌。大克劳斯把麻袋放在教堂门口，想进去听一首赞美诗再出来继续赶路。小克劳斯不可能从麻袋里钻出来，而别人都在教堂里面。于是他就进去了。

“哦，天哪，哦，天哪。”小克劳斯在麻袋里叹气，他翻转身体，扭来扭去，却发现不可能挣开扎住麻袋的绳子。不一会儿，一位满头白发的老牛倌过来了，手里拿着一根大棍子，赶着面前的一大群母牛和公牛。牛踢到了装小克劳斯的麻袋，把它踢得翻了过来。“哦，天哪，”小克劳斯叹着气说，“我还很年轻，却马上就要去天国了。”

“而我呢，可怜的伙计，”牛倌说，“我已经这么老了，却还去不成呢。”

“打开麻袋，”小克劳斯大声说，“代替我钻进来，你很快就能去天国了。”

“我太愿意了，”牛倌说着，打开麻袋，小克劳斯一下子就从里面跳了出来，“你能帮我照顾我的牛吗？”老人一边说，一边钻进了麻袋。

“没问题。”小克劳斯说，他扎紧麻袋，然后赶着所有的母牛和公牛离开了。

大克劳斯从教堂里出来后，拎起麻袋扛在肩上。他感觉麻袋变轻了，因为老牛倌的重量还不及小克劳斯的一半。

“他现在扛起来多轻啊，”他说，“啊，这都是因为我去了教堂的缘故。”他一直走到河边，河面很宽，河水很深，他把装着老牛倌的麻袋扔进水里，以为那是小克劳斯。“你就在这里安息吧！”他大声喊道，“再也别想来捉弄我了。”然后他转身回家，刚走到岔路口，看见小克劳斯赶着那群牛过来了。“怎么回事？”大克劳斯说，“我刚才不是把你淹死了吗？”

“是啊，”小克劳斯说，“大约半个小时前，你把我扔进了河里。”

“可是你从哪儿弄到了这些上好的牲口？”大克劳斯问。

“这些牲口是海牛，”小克劳斯回答，“说来话长啊，我要谢谢你把我扔进河里。现在我超过你了，成了大富翁。不瞒你说，你当时把我从桥上扔进河里，可把我吓得不轻，我被困在麻袋里，风在我的耳边呼呼刮过，我一下子就沉到了河底。但我并没有受伤，我稳稳当当地落到了下面柔软的草地上。麻袋立刻就打开了，一个最可爱的小姑娘朝我走来。她穿着雪白的长袍，湿漉漉的头发上戴着绿叶做的花环。她拉住我的手，说，‘小克劳斯，你终于来了，我先给你这几头牛。路上再走一英里，还有另一群牲口等着你。’接着我看见河里有一条宽阔的大马路，是给住在海里的人走的。他们步行或者坐车，在大海和河尽头的那块陆地之间来来往往。河床上覆盖着最美丽的鲜花和芳香的绿草。鱼儿游过我的身边，像这里空中的鸟儿一样敏捷。那里的人都是那么漂亮，山坡上，山谷里，是上好的牛群在吃草！”

“既然下面这么美，”大克劳斯说，“你为什么还要上来呢？我可不会这么做。”

“唉，”小克劳斯说，“我自有我的道理。你听见我刚才说，那个海底姑娘告诉我，在路上再走一英里，我就会发现另一大群牛。她说的路就是河，因为她不可能走别的路。而我知道河道怎样蜿蜒曲折，在哪里拐弯，有时往右，有时往左，听起来路挺远的，所以我就抄了一条近路。我上到陆地上来，赶着牛走过田野，然后再回到河里，这样可以少走半英里的路，早一点得到我的牛。”

“你真是个幸运鬼！”大克劳斯惊叹道。“你说，如果我沉到河底，也能得到海牛吗？”

“我认为能，”小克劳斯说，“可是我不能用麻袋把你背到那里去，你太重了。如果你先走过去，钻进麻袋，我倒是很愿意把你扔进河里。”

“谢谢你，”大克劳斯说，“可是你记住，如果我在下面得不到海牛，我会上来把你狠狠地揍一顿。”

“哎哟，别这么凶啊！”小克劳斯说，于是他们朝河边走去。到了河边，口渴的牛看到河水，都跑下去喝水。

“看它们多着急，”小克劳斯说，“它们迫不及待要回下面去呢。”

“来，帮帮我，快点，”大克劳斯说，“不然你会挨揍的。”于是，他钻进了驮在一头公牛背上的大麻袋。

“放一块石头进来，”大克劳斯说，“不然我可能沉不下去。”

“哦，这倒不用担心，”小克劳斯回答，但还是把一块大石头放进了麻袋，然后把口扎紧，用力一推。

“扑通！”大克劳斯掉了下去，立刻就沉入了河底。

“恐怕他不会找到牛了。”小克劳斯说，赶着自己的牲口回家去了。

勇敢的锡兵

从前，有二十五个锡兵，他们都是兄弟，是用同一把旧锡勺子做的。他们扛着武器，眼睛注视着前方，穿着漂亮的红色和蓝色的军装。他们在世界上听到的第一句话就是“锡兵！”是一个小男孩说的。当装锡兵的匣子被打开时，小男孩高兴地拍着巴掌。这些锡兵是他得到的生日礼物，他站在桌旁，把他们摆了出来。锡兵全都一模一样，只有一个例外。他只有一条腿。他是最后做的，熔化的锡已经不够把他做完整了，他们就让他靠一条腿稳稳地站着，这使得他非常引人注目。

摆锡兵的桌上，放满了别的玩具，最吸引人目光的是一个漂亮的小纸城堡。透过小小的窗户，能看见一个个房间。城堡前面，有许多小树围着一面镜子，这面镜子代表的是一个清澈的湖。蜡做的天鹅在湖上游来游去，在湖面上映出倒影。所有这些都很漂亮，而最漂亮的是一位小小的女士，她站在城堡敞开的门口。她也是纸做的，穿着一件清爽的薄纱做的长裙，肩膀上披着一条窄窄的蓝色丝带，就像围巾一样。她的胸前别着一朵亮晶晶的金属玫瑰，有她的整个脸庞那么大。这位小女士是舞蹈家，她伸展双臂，把一条腿抬得很高很高，锡兵根本看不见它，因此他以为这位女士跟他一样，只有一条腿。“她给我当妻子倒很合适，”他想，“可是她太高贵了，住在一个城堡里，而我只能住在一个盒子里，二十五个人挤在一起，这可配不上她。不过我一定要试着跟她认识认识。”于是，他躺在桌上的一个鼻烟盒后面，尽量把身体伸长，这样便可以看到那位娇小优雅的女士，她一直单腿站立，站得稳稳当当的。到了晚上，别的锡兵都被放进了盒子，家里的人上床睡觉了。那些玩具就开始在一起玩自己的游戏，串门，假装打架，举办舞会。锡兵们在盒子里碰得哗哗响，他们也想出来一起玩乐，可是打不开盖子。胡桃夹子在玩跳背游戏，铅笔在桌上蹦来蹦去。声音太大了，金丝雀醒了过来，开始说话，说的都是诗句。只有那个锡兵和舞蹈家呆在原地。舞蹈家踮脚站着，双腿尽力伸展，站得像一条腿的锡兵一样稳当。锡兵一刻也没有把目光从她身上移开。钟敲响了十二点，腾地一下，鼻烟盒的盖子弹开了。但里面跳出的不是鼻烟，而是一个黑黑的小妖精。原来鼻烟盒是个玩具。

“锡兵，”妖精说，“不要渴望不属于你的东西。”

锡兵假装没有听见。

“好吧，那就等到明天吧。”妖精说。

第二天，孩子们进来了，他们把那个锡兵放在窗户上。也不知是妖精搞的鬼，还是突然吹来一阵风，窗户突然打开，锡兵从三层楼上掉了下去，头朝下摔在下面的街道上。摔得真狠啊！他是头先落地，所以头盔和刺刀扎在了石板之间，一条腿竖在空中。女仆和小男孩立刻下楼来找他，却怎么也找不到，其实有一次他们几乎踩在了他身上。如果他大喊一声“我在这里”，问题就解决了。可是他穿着军装，自尊心使他不愿意大声求救。

不一会儿，天开始下雨，雨点越落越快，最后成了一场很大的阵雨。雨停了，两个男孩碰巧路过这里，其中一个说，“看，有一个锡兵。他应该在一艘船里。”

于是，他们用报纸叠了一艘船，把锡兵放在里面，让他顺着排水沟向前航行，两个男孩在旁边跟着跑，一边拍着巴掌。天哪，排水沟里真是惊涛骇浪！水流多么湍急啊！因为刚才那阵雨着实不小。纸船上下颠簸，滴溜溜地转了好几个弯，锡兵颤抖了，但他仍然稳稳地站着，表情没有丝毫变化。他扛着滑膛枪，目视前方。突然，纸船冲到一个桥下面，这里是排水管的一部分，四下里一片漆黑，就跟那个装锡兵的盒子一样。

“我现在往哪里去呢？”他想。“我敢肯定，这都是黑妖精搞的鬼。唉，如果那位小女士此刻能跟我一起在船里，我就不在乎什么黑暗了。”

突然出现了一只很大的水老鼠，他就住在排水管里。

“你有通行证吗？”老鼠问，“快把它给我。”锡兵保持沉默，把滑膛枪攥得比以前更紧。船继续前进，老鼠在后面跟着。他咬牙切齿，对那些木片和草屑喊道，“拦住他，拦住他。他没付过路费，没出示通行证。”可是水流越来越湍急了。锡兵已经能看见排水管尽头闪亮的天光。接着他听见一声可怕的轰响，足以令最勇敢的人心惊胆寒。排水管最后通到下面一个很大的运河，坡度很陡，使锡兵面临巨大的危险，就像我们面对瀑布一样。运河近在眼前，他已经来不及停住，于是纸船直冲出去，可怜的锡兵尽量让自己保持挺立，连眼皮也不眨一下，表示他并不害怕。纸船转了三四个圈，然后船舱里灌满了水，注定要沉下去了。锡兵此刻站在齐脖子深的水里，纸船越沉越低，浸湿的纸变得软塌塌的，松散开来。最后，水没过了锡兵的脑袋。他想起了那位娇小优雅的小舞蹈演员，自己大概再也见不到她了，他耳边响起了那首歌的歌词——

再见，勇士！永远坚定，

一路漂向你的坟茔。

接着，纸船变成了碎片，锡兵沉到水底，很快就被一条大鱼吞了下去。哦，鱼肚子里真黑啊！比排水管里黑得多，而且更加狭窄，但是锡兵还是那么坚定，扛着滑膛枪，身体挺得笔直。大鱼游来游去，作出许多最奇妙的动作，最后终于安静下来。过了一阵，似乎一道闪电穿透了大鱼，接着亮光越来越近，一个声音喊道，“嘿，这是那个锡兵。”原来大鱼被人抓住，拿到集市上，卖给了厨娘，厨娘把它拎到厨房，用刀剖开了它的肚子。厨娘捡起锡兵，用食指和拇指捏住锡兵的腰，把他拿进了屋。他们都迫不及待地想看看这位在鱼肚子里旅行过的神奇士兵，但他并不感到骄傲。他们把他放在桌上，啊——世界上的许多事情真是奇妙！——他又来到了他从窗口掉出去的那个房间，眼前还是那些孩子，桌上放的还是那些玩具，还有那座漂亮的城堡，以及门口那个优雅的小舞蹈家。她仍然靠一条腿站着，另一条腿高高举起，这么说，她跟他一样坚定。锡兵看见她非常激动，几乎流下眼泪，但他拼命忍住了。他只是看着她，两人都保持沉默。过了一会儿，一个小男孩拿起锡兵，扔进了炉子。他这么做毫无道理，肯定是住在鼻烟盒里的黑妖精在捣鬼。锡兵站在炉子里，火焰烧着了他的身体，热得可怕，但他不知道这热量来自真正的火焰，还是来自爱情的火焰。接着，他看见鲜艳的军装已经褪色，谁也说不清这是因为旅途中被水冲刷呢，还是他心情悲哀的结果。他看着那位娇小的女士，她也看着他。他觉得自己正在熔化，但他仍然坚定地扛着他的枪。房间的门突然打开，一阵风吹起了娇小的舞蹈家，她像空气精灵一样，直接飞进炉子，飞到锡兵的身旁，立刻就被火焰吞噬了。锡兵熔化成一块锡。第二天，当女仆清出炉子里的炉灰时，发现他成了一颗小锡心的形状。至于那位小舞蹈家，剩下的只有那朵金属玫瑰，已被烧得像煤渣一样漆黑。

拇指姑娘

从前，有一个女人，心心念念想要个小孩，却不能够如愿。最后，她去找到一个仙女，说，“我实在太想要一个小孩了，你能告诉我什么地方能找到吗？”

“哦，这很容易办到，”仙女说，“这是一粒大麦种子，跟农民田里种的、喂鸡吃的不是一个种类。你把它种在一个花盆里，看看会发生什么事。”

“谢谢。”女人说，给了仙女十二个先令，这是大麦种子的价钱。女人回到家，把它种下了，很快它就长成了一朵漂亮的大花，外表有点像郁金香，但花瓣包得紧紧的，似乎它仍然是个花苞。“真是一朵美丽的花。”女人说着，便去亲吻红色和金色的花瓣，就在这时，花苞绽开了，女人看出这真的是一朵郁金香。

在花朵里，在绿色的丝绒般的花蕊上，坐着一个非常精致而优雅的小姑娘。她的身高还不及一个大拇指的一半，他们就给她取名“拇指姑娘”，也称她为“小不点儿”，因为她实在太小了。一个精心打磨过的核桃壳做了她的摇篮。她的床是蓝色的紫罗兰叶子做的，上面铺的被子是一片玫瑰花瓣。

她晚上就睡在这床上，白天在桌子上玩耍。女人给她在桌上放了一盘清水。盘子周围是一圈花环，花梗都垂在水里，水面漂着一张大大的郁金香叶子，这就是小不点儿的船。小姑娘坐在这个小船里，从盘子一头划到另一头，两根船桨是白色的马鬃做的。

这真是一幅非常美丽的画面。小不点儿还能用那么温柔甜美的声音唱歌，这歌声是人们从来没有听过的。一天晚上，她躺在自己漂亮的床上时，一只丑陋的、湿漉漉的大癞蛤蟆，从玻璃窗一个破损的地方偷偷钻了进来，一下子跳到桌上，小不点儿正盖着玫瑰花瓣的被子睡在那里。“多俊哪，给我儿子做小媳妇可不错。”癞蛤蟆说，她拿起小不点儿安睡的核桃壳儿，从窗户跳进了花园。

癞蛤蟆和她的儿子一起，住在花园里一条大河边缘的沼泽地里。儿子比他妈妈还要丑陋，他看到睡在精致小床上的漂亮的小姑娘，只会嚷嚷，“呱呱，呱呱，呱呱。”

“别这么大声说话，会把她吵醒的，”癞蛤蟆说，“然后她就会逃走，因为她像天鹅的羽毛一样轻盈。我们把她放在河里的一片荷叶上，那对她来说就像一座岛，她这么轻、这么小，肯定没法逃跑。趁她不在的时候，我们赶紧把沼泽地下面的那个客房收拾出来，你们结婚后就住在里面。”

河水中央长着许多荷花，绿色的荷叶宽宽大大，似乎在水面漂浮。其中最大的一片荷叶看上去比别的叶子还要远离河岸，老癞蛤蟆就带着核桃壳儿游了过去，小不点儿还在里面熟睡着。

第二天一大早，小不点儿醒来了，发现自己是在这样一个地方，便伤心地哭了起来。宽宽大大的绿叶周围，除了水看不到别的，根本没有办法上岸。这个时候，老癞蛤蟆正在沼泽地下面忙碌，用灯心草和黄色的野花装饰房间，把它布置得漂漂亮亮的，给未来的儿媳妇住。然后，她带着丑儿子游到她安置可怜的小不点儿的地方。她是来拿那个漂亮小床的，想把它放在新房里，让小不点儿睡。老癞蛤蟆在水里朝小不点儿深深鞠了一躬，然后说，“这是我的儿子，他就是你未来的丈夫，你们会在河边的沼泽地里生活得很幸福的。”

“呱呱，呱呱，呱呱。”她儿子只会这样聒噪。于是，癞蛤蟆拿起精致的小床，带着它游走了，只剩下小不点儿独自坐在绿色的荷叶上，哀哀哭泣。她一想到要跟那只老癞蛤蟆生活在一起，让她丑陋的儿子做自己的丈夫，心里就觉得难受。

在水下游来游去的那些小鱼儿，看见了癞蛤蟆，也听见了她说的话，他们把脑袋探出水面，想看看那个小姑娘。他们看见了她，发现她非常漂亮，想到她不得不去跟丑陋的癞蛤蟆一起生活，都感到非常难过。“不行，绝对不行！”他们聚集在水里，围住小姑娘坐的那片荷叶的绿色梗子，用他们的牙齿咬断了它的根。荷叶顺着水流漂走了，带着小不点儿漂向离岸边很远的地方。

小不点儿经过许多城镇，灌木丛中的小鸟儿看见她，唱道，“多么美丽的小生命。”荷叶载着她越漂越远，一直把她带到了另一个国度。一只轻灵的白色小蝴蝶一直绕着她飞舞，最后落在了荷叶上。小不点儿逗蝴蝶玩耍，她很高兴，现在癞蛤蟆再也不能接近她了，而且沿途经过的景色非常美丽，太阳照得水面波光粼粼，像熔化的金子一样。她解下丝绸腰带，一头系在蝴蝶身上，另一头系在叶子上，小不点儿站在上面，叶子漂得比先前快了许多。不一会儿，一只金龟子飞过，他一看见小不点儿，就用爪子抓住她纤细的腰，带着她飞到了一棵树上。绿色的荷叶顺着水流漂走了，蝴蝶也跟它一起飞走，他被拴在上面，没法儿逃脱。

哦，当金龟子带着她朝那棵树飞去时，小不点儿心里多么害怕呀！而最让她感到难过的，是那只美丽的白蝴蝶，她把他拴在了荷叶上，如果他不能挣脱，就会饿死的。可是金龟子压根儿不管这些事。

在一片大大的绿叶上，金龟子坐在小不点儿身边，从花里取了一些蜂蜜给她吃，并对她说她非常漂亮，虽然一点儿也不像一只金龟子。过了一阵，所有的金龟子都翘起他们的触须，说，“她只有两条腿！那样子多丑啊。”“她连触须也没有。”另一只金龟子说。“她的腰细得要命。呸！她活像人类。”

“哦！她可真丑！”所有的金龟子女士都说，尽管小不点儿非常漂亮。那个把她抢来的金龟子也开始相信其他金龟子的话，认为她是丑的，不想再对她说什么话了，叫她愿意去哪儿就去哪儿。说完，他带着小不点儿从树上飞走，把她放在一朵雏菊上，小不点儿想到自己这样丑陋，连金龟子都不愿意跟她说话，便伤心地哭了起来。其实她一直是人们所能想象的最可爱的生命，像一片美丽的玫瑰花瓣一样娇嫩、柔美和漂亮。整个夏天，可怜的小不点儿独自生活在广阔的大森林里。她用草叶给自己编织了一张床，挂在一片宽阔的叶子下面，给自己遮挡风雨。她吸食花朵里的蜂蜜，每天清晨饮取叶子上的露水。就这样，她度过了夏天和秋天，然后冬天来了——漫长而寒冷的冬天。

曾经那么甜美地对她唱歌的鸟儿们，都已经飞走，树木和花草都枯萎凋零。她栖身的那片大大的车轴草叶子，现在已经枯萎皱缩，只剩下一根枯黄的梗子。她感到冷得要命，衣服都破了，而她又是那么脆弱和娇嫩，可怜的小不点儿很快就要冻死了。天开始下雪了。雪花落在她身上，就像满满一铲雪砸在我们身上，因为我们这么高，而她只有一英寸。她用一片干树叶把自己裹起来，可是树叶中间碎了，不能给她保暖，她冻得瑟瑟发抖。

在她住的那片树林旁边，有一片玉米田，玉米早就被收割了，冻得硬邦邦的田里只剩下一根根干枯的玉米茬儿。对小不点儿来说，就像在一片大树林里艰难穿行一样。哦！她真是冻得浑身发抖。最后，她来到一只田鼠的家门口，这只田鼠在玉米茬儿下面造了一个小窝。田鼠温暖而舒服地住在里面，有满满一屋子玉米，一间厨房和一个漂亮的餐厅。可怜的小不点儿站在门口，像一个要饭的小姑娘，请求给她一小片麦粒，她已经整整两天没有吃一口东西了。

“你这可怜的小家伙。”田鼠说，她是一位心肠很好的老田鼠，“快到我温暖的房间里来，跟我一起吃饭吧。”她很喜欢小不点儿，便说，“如果你愿意的话，欢迎你在我这里度过整个冬天。但你必须让我的房间保持干净整洁，还要讲故事给我听，我很喜欢听故事。”于是，小不点儿就按田鼠的要求去做，发现自己过得很舒适。

“不久我们会有一位客人，”有一天田鼠说，“我的邻居每星期来拜访我一次。他日子过得比我富裕。屋子大，还穿着一件漂亮的黑丝绒大衣。如果你能让他做你的丈夫，就算是有个好归宿了。但他眼睛看不见，你必须把你最好听的几个故事讲给他听。”

小不点儿对这位邻居没有丝毫兴趣，因为他是一只鼹鼠。不过，他还是来拜访了，穿着那件黑丝绒的大衣。

“他很富裕，很有学问，他的房子比我的大二十倍。”田鼠说。

毫无疑问，鼹鼠是富裕和博学的，可他总是用轻蔑的口气谈论太阳和美丽的鲜花，因为他从没见过它们。小不点儿不得不唱歌给他听，“鸟姑娘，鸟姑娘，快快飞回家”，还有另外许多首美丽的歌。鼹鼠爱上了她，因为她的声音这样甜美，但他暂时什么都没说，他非常谨慎。不久以前，鼹鼠挖了一条长长的地道，从田鼠的住处一直通到他家，他准许田鼠和小不点儿随时在这里散步。他提醒她们，看见躺在地道里的那只死鸟可不要害怕。那是一只完美的鸟，有嘴，有羽毛，估计是刚死不久，正好躺在鼹鼠挖地道的地方。鼹鼠嘴里叼着一片发磷光的木头，黑暗中木头发出火焰一样的亮光。他走在她们前面，替她们照亮悠长黑暗的地道。在死鸟躺着的地方，鼹鼠用他宽大的鼻子拱穿了洞顶，露出一个大洞，日光洒进了地道。

隧道中央躺着一只死去的燕子，美丽的翅膀收拢在身体两侧，脚和脑袋都蜷缩在羽毛下。这只可怜的鸟显然是冻死的。小不点儿看了非常心痛，她是那么喜爱小鸟，整个夏天，他们都用那么美妙的歌喉为她唱歌、欢叫。可是鼹鼠却用弯弯的腿把燕子踢到一边，说，“他再也不会唱歌了。生为一只小鸟是多么可悲啊！我很庆幸我的孩子都不会是小鸟，小鸟什么事也不会做，只会嚷嚷着‘啾啾，啾啾’，到了冬天总是饿死。”

“是啊，你是个聪明人，说得对！”田鼠大声赞叹，“啾啾叫有什么用呢，冬天到来的时候，他肯定不是饿死就是冻死。不过，鸟的出身倒是很高贵的。”

小不点儿什么也没说。当另外两个背对燕子的时候，她弯下腰，把挡住燕子脑袋的羽毛拂到一边，亲了亲那双紧闭的眼睛。“也许，这就是夏天对我唱歌的那只燕子，他唱得那么甜美，”她说，“给了我那么多快乐，你这只漂亮的、亲爱的鸟儿。”

鼹鼠把透进日光的那个洞口堵上，陪着田鼠夫人回家了。晚上，小不点儿睡不着觉。她下了床，用甘草织了一条美丽的大毯子。她拿着毯子来到死鸟身边，把毯子盖在他身上。她还加了几根她在田鼠房间里找到的鲜花上的短茸毛，所以毯子像羊毛一样柔软。她把毯子铺在鸟儿的身体两边，这样，他躺在冰冷的泥地上就会感到一些暖意。“别了，你这只漂亮的小鸟，”她说，“别了。感谢你夏天里令人愉快的歌唱，那时候树木翠绿，温暖的阳光照在我们身上。”她把脑袋贴在鸟儿的胸口，却一下子惊跳起来，鸟儿身体里似乎有个东西在“砰砰”地响。这是鸟儿的心脏。他其实并没有死，只是被冻僵了，温暖使他又活了过来。秋天，所有的燕子都飞往暖和的国度，如果一只燕子不小心留了下来，就会遭遇严寒，就会冻僵，然后像死了一样坠落下来。他会留在原地，让寒冷的冰雪把他覆盖。小不点儿浑身抖得那么厉害。她害怕极了，因为燕子很大，比她自己大得多——她的身高只有一英寸。但是她鼓起勇气，把毯子更加严实地盖在可怜的燕子身上，然后拿起她自己当被子的一片叶子，盖在可怜的燕子脑袋上。第二天早晨，她又偷偷溜出去看他。他醒过来了，但非常虚弱，只能稍微睁开眼睛看看小不点儿，小不点儿站在他身旁，手里举着一片腐烂的木头，因为她没有别的灯。“谢谢你，漂亮的小姑娘，”病弱的燕子说，“你让我感到非常暖和，我很快就会恢复体力，重新在温暖的阳光里飞翔了。”

“哦，”小不点儿说，“现在外面很冷，下着雪，天寒地冻。躺在你温暖的床上吧，我会照顾你的。”

她用一片花瓣盛来一点水，燕子喝了，告诉她说，在一处荆棘丛里，他的一个翅膀受了伤，不能像别的燕子那样飞得那么快，他们很快就远远地飞走，到南方温暖的国度去了。最后，他掉到了地上，后来的事就不记得了，也不知道自己是怎么来到这里，被她发现的。整个冬天，燕子都藏在地底下，小不点儿怀着爱心，无微不至地照顾他。鼹鼠和田鼠都对此事一无所知，因为他们不喜欢燕子。很快，春天来了，阳光温暖了大地。燕子向小不点儿告别，小不点儿打开地道顶上鼹鼠拱出的那个洞。明媚的阳光照耀在他们身上，燕子问小不点儿是不是愿意跟他一起走。燕子说，她可以骑在他的背上，他会带着她飞到绿色的树林里去。可是小不点儿知道，如果她这样不辞而别，田鼠肯定会非常伤心的，于是她说，“不，我不能走。”

“那就再见了，你这个善良美丽的小姑娘，再见了。”燕子说完，就飞到外面的阳光里去了。

小不点儿望着燕子的身影，眼睛里涌出了泪水。她非常喜欢这只可怜的燕子。

“啾啾，啾啾。”燕子一边叫，一边朝绿色的树林里飞去，小不点儿感到非常悲哀。她是不允许到外面的阳光里去的。田鼠家上面的田地里种的玉米，已经窜得很高，在小不点儿看来，它们构成了一片茂密的树林，因为她的身高只有一英寸。

“你就要结婚了，小不点儿，”田鼠说，“我的邻居已经提出要娶你。对你这样一个可怜的孩子来说，这是多好的福气啊。现在我们要准备你结婚时穿的衣服。羊毛和亚麻的都不能少。你做了鼹鼠的妻子，可绝不能缺少什么。”

小不点儿不得不去转纺锤，田鼠雇了四只蜘蛛，白天黑夜地织布。每天晚上鼹鼠都来看她，嘴里总念叨着夏天结束的日子。那时候他就要跟小不点儿举行婚礼。现在太阳的热量太强了，把大地烤得硬邦邦的，像石头一样。

很快，夏天结束，婚礼就要举行了。可是小不点儿丝毫也不高兴。她不喜欢令人厌烦的鼹鼠。每天早晨太阳升起，每天晚上太阳落下，她都要悄悄溜到门外，风把玉米棒子吹到一旁，她便能看到蔚蓝的天空，她感到外面那么美、那么明亮，便格外渴望再见到她亲爱的燕子。可是燕子再也没有回来，这个时候他早就飞到了遥远而可爱的绿色树林里。

秋天来了，小不点儿的衣服快要做好了，田鼠对她说，“再有四个星期，婚礼就该举行了。”

听了这话，小不点儿哭了，说她不愿意嫁给令人讨厌的鼹鼠。

“胡说，”田鼠回答，“别这么死心眼儿，不然我就用我的白牙齿咬你。他是一个相貌堂堂的鼹鼠，他的丝绒和皮毛那么漂亮，就连女王穿的也不过如此。他家的厨房和地窖都堆得满满的。你有这么好的福气，应该感到庆幸才是。”

婚礼的日子定下来了，到时候鼹鼠要来把小不点儿接去，跟他一起生活在很深的地底下，永远看不见温暖的太阳，因为他不喜欢太阳。可怜的孩子想到要跟美丽的太阳永别，心里非常难过，田鼠允许她在门口站站，她便去再看一眼太阳。

“别了，明亮的太阳，”她哭道，朝太阳伸出自己的手臂。她朝屋外走了一段，现在玉米已经收割，田里只留下枯干的断茬。“别了，别了，”她一遍遍地说着，用胳膊搂住身边的一朵小红花，“如果你能再看到那只小燕子，就替我向他问好吧。”

“啾啾，啾啾。”头顶上突然传来一个声音。小不点儿抬起头，正是那只燕子在近旁飞过。他看见了小不点儿，高兴极了，小不点儿跟他说了她多么不愿意嫁给丑陋的鼹鼠，一辈子生活在地底下，再也见不到明亮的太阳。说着说着，她就哭了。

“寒冷的冬天快要来了，”燕子说，“我要飞到温暖的国度去。你跟我一起去吗？你可以骑在我的背上，用你的腰带把自己绑牢。然后，我们远走高飞，离开丑陋的鼹鼠和他那阴森森的家——飞过崇山峻岭，飞向远方，飞到温暖的国度，那里的阳光比这里更加明亮。那里一年到头都是夏天，到处盛开着美丽的鲜花。跟我一起飞走吧，亲爱的小不点儿。当我冻僵了，躺在那黑暗的地道里时，是你救了我的命。”

“好的，我跟你一起走。”小不点儿说。她骑在燕子的背上，双脚踏在他张开的翅膀上，并把腰带系在他最结实的一根羽毛上。

燕子升上天空，飞过森林，飞过大海，飞过终年积雪不化的巍峨的高山。空气寒冷，小不点儿几乎要冻僵了，她藏在燕子温暖的羽毛底下，却把小小的脑袋一直露在外面，为了能够欣赏他们经过的那些美丽的景致。

他们来到了温暖的国度，阳光那么明媚，天空看上去高阔得多。在篱笆上，在道路旁，结满了紫色、绿色和白色的葡萄。树林的果树上悬挂着柠檬和橘子，空气里弥漫着常春花和香橙花的芬芳。漂亮的孩子们在乡村小路上玩耍，追逐着五颜六色的大蝴蝶。随着燕子越飞越远，经过的地方一个比一个更美丽。

最后，他们来到了一个蓝色的湖泊，湖边的浓荫下，矗立着一座用耀眼的大理石建成的宫殿，是古代留下的建筑。高高的柱子上盘绕着葡萄藤，宫殿顶上有许多燕子的窝，其中一个就是驮载小不点儿的那只燕子的家。

“这是我家，”燕子说，“可是你住在这里不太合适——你会感到不舒服的。你必须在那些美丽的鲜花中给自己选一个家，我把你放在那里，然后你就会找到能让你幸福的一切。”

“那太让我高兴了。”她说，开心地拍着她的小手。

地上躺着一个很大的大理石柱，它落下来的时候摔成了三段。在这三段之间生长着最美丽的大白花。于是，燕子带着小不点儿飞下去，把她放在一片宽宽的花瓣上。小不点儿惊讶地发现，在这朵花的中央，竟然有一个小小的人儿，白得透明，似乎是用水晶做的！他头上戴着一顶金的王冠，肩上长着精致的翅膀，个头跟小不点儿差不多。他是花的天使。每一朵花里都住着一个小小的男人和一个小小的女人，而他，是他们的王。

“哦，他多漂亮啊！”小不点儿轻声对燕子说。

小王子起初被燕子吓坏了，跟他这么一个精致玲珑的小人儿相比，燕子就像个巨人了。可是王子一看见小不点儿，顿时高兴起来，认为她是自己见过的最漂亮的小姑娘。他摘下头上的金王冠，把它戴在小不点儿的头上，问她叫什么名字，愿不愿意做他的妻子，做所有鲜花的王后。

这样一个丈夫，显然跟癞蛤蟆的儿子，和那只有着黑丝绒皮毛的鼹鼠完全不一样。于是她对英俊的王子说，“愿意。”顿时，所有的花朵都张开了，每个里面都出来一个小小的女士和一个小小的先生，而且都这么漂亮，看上去让人赏心悦目。

他们每人都给小不点儿带来了一件礼物。最好的礼物是一对漂亮的翅膀，本来是一只大白苍蝇的。他们把翅膀固定在小不点儿的肩膀上，这样她就可以从一朵花飞到另一朵花。接下来大家狂欢庆贺，坐在高处自己窝里的那只小燕子，被邀请来唱一首婚礼歌，他尽自己的能力唱得很好。但是他心里感到悲哀，因为他非常喜欢小不点儿，实在不愿意再跟她分离。

“你不能再叫小不点儿了，”花的精灵对她说，“这是一个丑陋的名字，而你是这么漂亮。我们要叫你玛雅。”

“再见，再见。”燕子说，他怀着一颗沉重的心离开了温暖的国度，飞回丹麦。他在那里有一个窝，就在一个写童话的作家的窗户上面。燕子唱道，“啾啾，啾啾。”从他的歌声中便诞生了这个故事。

夜莺

你们知道，在中国，皇帝是一个中国人，他周围的人也都是中国人。我要讲的故事发生在很多年以前，你们最好在它还没被遗忘时听到。国王的宫殿是世界上最美丽的。全部用瓷建成，造价十分昂贵，可是非常脆弱易碎，碰一下都得格外小心。花园里开着各种奇异的花，上面拴着漂亮的银铃铛，发出玎玲玲的响声，每个经过的人都忍不住注意到那些鲜花。是的，皇宫花园里的每样东西都不同寻常，而且花园面积很广，连园丁本人也不知道什么地方是尽头。那些到过花园外面的人知道，那里有一片壮观的树林，树木参天，一直延伸到下面深蓝色的大海，巨大的帆船在树枝的阴影下航行。在一棵树上生活着一只夜莺，她的歌喉那么婉转动听，穷苦的渔民虽然有那么多事情要做，都忍不住停下来倾听。有时，他们夜里去海里撒网，听见夜莺的歌声，就会说，“哦，真美啊！”但他们继续打渔，忘掉了夜莺。到了第二天晚上，他们又会听见夜莺在唱歌，感叹道，“哦，夜莺的歌声多么美妙！”

世界各地的旅行者都来到这座皇城，非常欣赏城市、宫殿和花园，可是当他们听见夜莺的歌声时，都说这才是最好的东西。旅行者回到家里，讲述他们的所见所闻。有学问的人就写书描绘这座城市、宫殿和花园。但他们没有忘记夜莺，因为夜莺才是最伟大的奇迹。那些会写诗的人写出了优美的诗句，讲的就是生活在深海附近一片树林里的这只夜莺。这些书传遍了世界各地，有几本落到了皇帝手中。皇帝坐在金色的宝座上看书，不时赞许地点点头，他很高兴看到别人用这样美丽的文字描绘他的城市、宫殿和花园。当他读到“夜莺是最美丽的东西”时，他惊叹道，“这是什么？我对夜莺一无所知。我的帝国里有这样一只鸟吗？还在我的花园里？我从没听说过。看来，从书本里确实能学到东西。”

他叫来一个侍臣。这位侍臣出身非常高贵，每当地位比他低的人跟他说话，或问他一个问题，他总是回答“啐”，等于什么也没说。

“这里提到一只很出色的鸟，叫夜莺，”皇帝说，“他们说她是我这么大王国里最好的东西。我怎么从来没有听说？”

“我没听过这个名字，”侍臣回答。“她没有在朝廷出现过。”

“我希望她今晚能够出现，”皇帝说。“全世界都比我自己更知道我有什么。”

“我没有听说过她，”侍臣说，“但我会努力把她找到。”

可是上哪儿去找这只夜莺呢？侍臣楼上楼下地跑，穿过走廊，穿过大厅，可是他遇到的人都没有听说过这只鸟。于是他回到皇帝面前，说这肯定是个虚构的故事，是那些写书的人编出来的。“尊贵的皇帝陛下，”他说，“书里的东西不能全信。有时候它们是虚构的，或是所谓的妖术。”

“可是，我读到这段描写的这本书，”皇帝说，“是尊贵的日本皇帝寄给我的，里面不可能有假话。我要听夜莺唱歌，她今晚必须在这里。让她得到我最高的宠幸。如果她没来，吃过晚饭整个朝廷都要受到严厉的惩罚。”

“遵命！”侍臣喊了一声，又楼上楼下地跑，穿过走廊和大厅，朝廷里一半的人都跟着他跑，因为他们不愿意受到严厉惩罚。大家纷纷打听这只奇妙的夜莺，似乎全世界都知道她，只有朝廷的人被蒙在鼓里。

最后，他们遇见一个在厨房里干活的穷苦的小姑娘，她说，“哦，是的，我很熟悉这只夜莺。没错，她会唱歌。每天晚上，我获准把残羹剩饭拿回家，给我可怜的患病的母亲。母亲住在海边，我回来时感到很累，就坐在树林里休息，听夜莺唱歌。泪水就会涌入我的眼眶，就像我的母亲在亲我一样。”

“小姑娘，”侍臣说，“如果你领我们去找这只夜莺，我会让你在厨房里长期干下去，还允许你看皇帝用餐。因为夜莺今晚应邀进宫。”于是，小姑娘走进夜莺唱歌的树林，朝廷里一半的人都跟着她。走着走着，一只母牛哞哞地叫了起来。

“哦，”一位年轻的朝臣说，“终于找到她了。这么小的生灵竟然有这样神奇的力量。我以前肯定听到过的。”

“不，那是只母牛在叫。”小姑娘说。“我们离那地方还远着呢。”

接着，几只青蛙在沼泽地里呱呱地叫。

“真美啊，”年轻的朝臣又说，“这下我可听见了。玎玲玲，像教堂的小铃铛一样。”

“不，那些是青蛙。”小姑娘说。“但我想我们很快就能听见了。”不一会儿，夜莺开始唱起歌来。

“听啊，听啊！就是她！”小姑娘说。“她就在那儿。”她指着栖在一根树枝上的一只小灰鸟。

“这可能吗？”侍臣说。“我压根儿想象不到会是这样一个不起眼的小东西。她肯定是看到周围有这么多华丽的人，吓得变了颜色。”

“小夜莺，”小姑娘提高声音喊道，“我们最仁慈的皇帝希望你能在他面前唱歌。”

“非常乐意。”夜莺说完，以最优美悦耳的声音唱了起来。

“就像小小的玻璃铃铛，”侍臣说，“看她的小喉咙动得多么巧妙。真奇怪，我们以前竟然从没听见过。她在宫里肯定会大红大紫。”

“我可以在皇帝面前再唱一曲吗？”夜莺问，她以为皇帝在场。

“我出色的小夜莺啊，”朝臣说，“我无比荣幸地邀请你今天参加宫里的晚宴，你会用迷人的歌喉赢得皇上的宠爱。”

“我在绿色的树林里唱歌最好听。”夜莺说。但她听说这是皇帝的愿望，还是愿意过来。

宫殿专门布置得富丽堂皇。一千盏灯照得瓷做的墙壁和地板闪闪发亮。走廊上摆着许多美丽的鲜花，上面系着小铃铛。有人跑过或气流扰动，这些铃铛就会发出响亮的玎玲声，谁说话都听不见。大厅中央，装了一根金色的栖枝，让夜莺栖在上面。朝廷的人都来了，厨房里的那个小姑娘获准站在门口。她还没有被任命为正式的皇家御厨。所有的人都衣冠楚楚，每一双眼睛都转向那只灰色的小鸟，皇帝朝她点点头，示意她开始。夜莺唱得太动听了，泪水从皇帝的眼睛里涌出来，顺着面颊滚落，夜莺的歌声越发动人，触动了每个人的心弦。皇帝高兴极了，宣布把他的金鞋挂在夜莺的脖子上。但是夜莺婉言谢绝了皇帝的恩赐：她已经得到了充足的回报。“我看见了一位皇帝眼里的泪水，”她说，“这对我是最丰富的奖赏。皇帝的眼泪具有神奇的力量，对我来说这份荣耀已经足够了。”她说完又唱起歌来，比刚才更加悦耳迷人。

“这歌声是一种可爱的天赋。”朝廷里的女人们议论道。她们把水含在嘴里，互相说话时发出夜莺那样的汩汩的声音，这样就能把自己想象成夜莺。男仆和女仆们也表示很满意，这点很能说明问题，他们一般是很难取悦的。实际上，夜莺的来访非常成功。她现在留在朝廷里，有自己的笼子，白天可以出去两次，晚上出去一次。出去时有十二个仆人伺候她，每人抓住一根系在她脚上的丝线。这样的飞翔，肯定没有多少快乐可言。

城里的人都在谈论这只神奇的鸟，如果两个人碰见，一个就说“夜”，另一个就说“莺”，都明白是什么意思，因为除此之外他们不说别的。十一个小贩的孩子起了夜莺的名字，但谁也不会唱一个音符。

有一天，皇帝收到一个大包裹，上面写着“夜莺”。“肯定又是一本关于我们这只著名小鸟的新书。”皇帝说。但里面不是书，而是一件装在盒子里的工艺品——一只人造的夜莺，做得跟活的一模一样，身上全是钻石、红宝石、蓝宝石。这只假鸟上紧发条后，能像真的夜莺一样唱歌，还能上下摇动尾巴，闪烁出银子和金子的光芒。它的脖子上挂着一根丝带，上面写着，“日本皇帝的夜莺比不上中国皇帝的夜莺。”

“非常漂亮。”看见的人都这样惊叹，把人造夜莺带来的那个人获得了“皇家夜莺主管”的封号。

“必须让她们一起唱歌，”朝廷的人说，“会组成多么美妙的二重唱啊。”可是她们配合得并不好，真夜莺按她自然的方式歌唱，假夜莺只会唱圆舞曲。

“这不是缺点，”音乐大师说，“正符合我的品位。”于是他们让假夜莺单独唱，它唱得跟真夜莺一样成功。而且，它看上去漂亮多了，像手镯和胸针一样光芒闪烁。它把同一支曲子唱了三十三遍也不疲倦。人们倒是乐意再听一遍，但是皇帝说真夜莺也应该唱点什么。可是她在哪儿呢？没有人注意到她已经从敞开的窗户飞走，回到了她绿色的树林里。

“多么奇怪的行为。”皇帝发现她逃跑后说。所有的朝臣都责怪她，说她是个非常忘恩负义的家伙。

“但是我们有了最好的夜莺。”一位朝臣说，于是让夜莺又唱一遍，他们已经是第三十四遍听同一支曲子，但还是没有学会，因为这曲子很难。音乐大师给了假夜莺最高的称赞，甚至说它比一只真夜莺还好，它不仅有华丽的衣服和漂亮的钻石，还有极高的音乐才能。“皇帝陛下，你一定注意到了，如果是一只真夜莺，我们永远不知道她要唱什么，可是这只夜莺呢，一切都是设定好的。可以打开，可以解释，这样人们就能了解圆舞曲是怎样构成的，为什么一个音符接着一个音符。”

“我们正是这样想的。”他们都回答道。音乐大师获准在下个星期天把假夜莺拿去展示，皇帝命令市民都来听它唱歌。他们听了它的歌声，如痴如醉，就像在喝茶一样，喝茶是中国人的习惯。他们都说，“哦！”并举起食指，频频点头，只有一个穷苦的渔夫，他听过真夜莺的歌唱，说，“听起来确实很美，旋律也都是一样的。但总觉得缺了点什么，我也说不清楚。”

从那以后，真夜莺就被逐出了帝国，假夜莺被放在皇帝床边的一个丝绸垫子上。周围放着跟它一起收到的金子和宝石礼物，现在它得到了“御用小歌唱家”的封号，并且升到左手第一的位置。皇帝认为左侧是心脏的位置，是最尊贵的，皇帝心脏的位置跟其他人没有什么两样。

音乐大师写了部二十五卷的作品介绍这只假夜莺，长篇大论，很有学问，密密麻麻全是最难懂的中国字。但是每个人都说自己读过，并且读懂了，他们担心被当成傻瓜，身体受到惩罚。

一年过去了，皇帝、朝臣和所有其他中国人都熟悉了假夜莺歌声里的每一丝变化，因为这个原因，他们更高兴了。他们可以跟假夜莺一起歌唱，这是他们经常做的事。街上的小男孩唱，“啧—啧—啧，咕咕，咕咕，咕咕。”皇帝自己也会唱。真是太有意思了。

一天晚上，假夜莺正唱得起劲，皇帝躺在床上听，突然假夜莺的身体里什么东西“嗖嗖”作响。一根弹簧断了。所有的齿轮都“呼呼”地转动，音乐停止了。皇帝立刻从床上跳起来，叫来御医。可是御医有什么办法呢？他们又叫来钟表匠。经过大量的检查和讨论，假夜莺似乎被修好了。可是钟表匠说，必须格外小心使用，因为发条匣磨损了，如果换新的会损坏音乐。多么令人难过啊，假夜莺一年只能唱一次了，即使这样对它的内部结构也很危险。音乐大师发表了一篇短短的讲话，措词激烈，声称假夜莺跟以前一样好，当然啦，没有人反驳他的话。

五年过去了，真正的悲哀笼罩了帝国。中国人很喜欢他们的皇帝，现在他病得很重，似乎活不下去了。新皇帝已经选好，人们站在街道上，向侍臣询问老皇帝的情况，侍臣只说了一句，“啐！”并摇摇脑袋。

皇帝躺在御榻上，脸色苍白，浑身发冷。朝廷的人以为他要死了，都跑去向他的继任者献殷勤。御前大臣到外面去嘀咕这件事，侍女们邀请朋友来喝茶。大厅和走廊里都铺了布，听不见一点脚步声，四下里一片死寂，没有任何动静。可是皇帝还没有死，他惨白而僵直地躺在豪华的床榻上，床前挂着长长的天鹅绒帘子和沉甸甸的金穗儿。一扇窗户开着，月光照着皇帝和假夜莺。可怜的皇帝觉得胸口似乎压着东西，使他喘不过气来，他睁开眼睛，看见是死神坐在那里。死神戴上了皇帝的金冠，一只手抓着皇帝尊贵的宝剑，另一只手里举着皇帝漂亮的旗幡。床的周围有许多奇怪的脑袋，隔着长长的天鹅绒帘子朝他窥视，有的很丑，有的慈眉善目，看上去很可爱。这些是皇帝做过的坏事和好事，此刻都盯着皇帝，而死神坐在他的心口。

“你记得这个吗？”“你记得那个吗？”它们一个接一个地问，皇帝想起了种种事件，脑门上渗出了汗珠。

“我什么都不知道。”皇帝说。“音乐！音乐！”他喊道。“中国大鼓！别让我听见它们的话。”但它们还是说个不停，死神听着，像中国人那样点头。“音乐！音乐！”皇帝大喊。“你这只稀罕的小金鸟儿，唱歌吧，求求你唱歌吧！我送给你金子和贵重的礼物。我还把我的金鞋挂在你脖子上。唱歌！唱歌！”可是假夜莺一声不吭。没有人给它上发条，所以它一个音符也唱不出来。

死神继续用冰冷、空洞的眼睛盯着皇帝，房间里一片恐怖的寂静。突然，敞开的窗户外传来了悦耳的音乐。在外面的一根树枝上，栖着那只真的夜莺。她听说皇帝病重，就飞来用歌声给他希望和信心。在她歌唱的时候，那些影子越来越淡。皇帝血管里的血液加快了流动，虚弱的四肢又有了活力。就连死神也侧耳倾听，说，“接着唱，小夜莺，接着唱。”

“那你把漂亮的金剑和华丽的旗幡给我好吗？把皇帝的王冠给我好吗？”夜莺说。

死神用一件宝物换一首歌。夜莺继续歌唱。她唱的是静谧的墓地，那里生长着白玫瑰，雪松树在微风中散发着香气，清新的绿草被送葬者的泪水打湿。死神渴望回去看看自己的花园，便化作一缕冰冷的白雾，从窗口飘了出去。

“谢谢，谢谢，你这只天赐的小鸟儿。我很熟悉你。我曾把你逐出我的王国，而你用甜美的歌声，驱散了我病榻旁那些邪恶的面孔，把死神从我心里赶走。我怎么报答你呢？”

“你已经报答了我。”夜莺说。“我永远不会忘记我第一次为你唱歌时，你眼里涌出的泪水。它们像珠宝一样令歌唱者感到欣喜。现在睡觉吧，重新变得健康强壮。我会再次为你歌唱。”

她展开歌喉，皇帝进入了甜蜜的梦乡，他睡得那么酣甜踏实！醒来时，他觉得神清气爽，精力又恢复了，明亮的阳光透过窗户照进来。可是他的仆人一个也没回来——他们都以为他死了。只有夜莺仍然在他身边，为他歌唱。

“你必须永远陪伴我。”皇帝说。“你只在自己愿意的时候才唱歌。我要把那只假夜莺砸得粉碎。”

“不，别那么做。”夜莺回答。“那只夜莺在它的能力范围内已经做得很好了。把它留在这儿吧。我不能住在皇宫，把窝安在这里。请让我在愿意的时候过来。夜晚我会栖在你窗外的一根树枝上，为你歌唱，让你高兴，想到各种愉快的事。我会给你唱那些幸福的人，那些受苦的人，并唱出藏在你周围的好人和坏人。会唱歌的小鸟儿要离开你和你的朝廷，飞到渔夫的家和农人的小屋。比起你的王冠，我更爱你的心。那里仍然留有一些神圣的东西。我会来，我会为你唱歌，但你必须答应我一件事。”

“什么都行。”皇帝说，他已经穿上皇袍，站在那里，握着沉重金剑的手放在胸口。

“我只要求一件事，”夜莺回答，“别让任何人知道你有一只告诉你一切的小鸟。这件事最好保密。”说完，夜莺就飞走了。

这时，仆人们进来看望死去的皇帝。咦！他们发现他站起来了，并说，“早上好。”这让他们惊讶极了。

读累了记得休息一会哦~

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冰雪女王（七个故事）

第一个故事 镜子和碎片

你必须注意这篇故事的开头，等你看到后面，就会比现在更了解一个特别顽劣的小妖精。他是最坏的妖精，是一个真正的魔鬼。一天，他心血来潮，做了一面有魔力的镜子，能把它照到的美丽善良的东西都缩小为零，而让所有卑鄙恶劣的东西都增大许多，变得更加邪恶。很漂亮的风景看上去就像煮菠菜一样，人变得面目狰狞，好像在拿大顶，没有身体。他们的五官扭曲变形，没有人能认得出来，脸上的一颗雀斑看上去蔓延到整个鼻子和嘴巴。魔鬼说这一切非常有趣。如果谁有了一个善良或虔诚的想法，在镜子里就会被歪曲。魔鬼对自己这个巧妙的发明非常得意，哈哈大笑。每一个进入魔鬼学校的人——魔鬼开了一所学校——到处议论他们看到的奇迹，并宣称说，人们第一次能够看到世界和人类的真正面目。他们拿着镜子到处走来走去，最后，世界上所有的地方、所有的人都被这种变形的镜子照过了。他们还想带着镜子飞到天堂去照照天使，可是飞得越高镜子越滑，几乎拿也拿不住，最后从手里滑落，摔到地上，变成无数个碎片。这下，镜子造成了更多的不幸，有些碎片只有沙粒那么大，在世界上到处乱飞，飞到每个国家。一个这样的小颗粒飞进人的眼睛，沾在那里，而本人并不知道，但是从那一刻起，他看见的任何东西都是扭曲的，或只能看到事物最坏的一面，因为即使是最小的碎片，也保留着整面镜子的那种魔力。有几个人甚至被镜子的碎片刺入了心脏，这是非常可怕的，他们的心脏从此变得像冰块一样冷。有几块碎片很大，可以用作窗户玻璃。如果透过它们去看我们的朋友，是一件很悲哀的事。还有些碎片做成了眼镜。那些戴眼镜的人可倒霉了，他们看什么东西都不正确、不公正。所有这一切都让邪恶的魔鬼笑得浑身发颤——他一看到自己搞的恶作剧，就觉得乐不可支。还有许多这样的玻璃碎片在空气里飘浮，下面你将会听到其中一个碎片的故事。

第二个故事 一个小男孩和一个小女孩

在一个很大的城市里，有许多房子，里面住满了人，不可能每个人都有花园，哪怕一个小花园也不行，因此，许多人只好满足于在花盆里种几株花。在这样一个大城市里，住着两个穷苦的孩子，他们有一个花园，比几个花盆稍大一些、好一些。他们不是兄妹，但像兄妹一样深爱着对方。他们的父母住在面对面的两个阁楼里，两座房子紧挨着，房顶延伸出来，中间有水管通过。每座房子都有一扇小窗户，所以能通过排水管从一扇窗户走到另一扇窗户。两个孩子的父母各有一个很大的木箱子，里面种着自己食用的草药，箱子里还种着一小片玫瑰丛，长势茂密。过了一阵，两家的父母决定把这两个箱子放在排水管上，能从一扇窗户够到另一扇窗户，看上去像两个花圃。甜豆从箱子里垂挂下来，玫瑰花丛抽出长长的枝条，环绕在窗户周围，那样茂密，像一道花和叶组成的凯旋门。箱子很高，孩子们知道不经允许绝对不能爬上去，但他们经常可以一起走出去，坐在玫瑰花丛下的小板凳上，或静悄悄地玩耍。到了冬天，这些乐趣就结束了，因为窗户有时候全部冻住。这时他们就会把铜币放在炉子上烤热，然后把热乎乎的铜币贴在被冻住的窗玻璃上。不一会儿，就会出现一个小圆洞，他们就能看着对方，小男孩和小女孩温柔而明亮的眼睛透过圆洞朝对方露出微笑。他们的名字分别叫凯伊和吉尔达。夏天，他们从窗户一跳就能在一起，可是冬天，他们必须走过长长的楼梯，经过外面的雪地才能见面。

“看，那些白蜜蜂纷纷飞来了。”有一天下雪，凯伊的老奶奶这么说。

“它们有蜂后吗？”小男孩问，他知道真正的蜜蜂都有一个蜂后。

“肯定有的。”奶奶说。“它在蜂群最密集的地方飞。它是蜜蜂里个头最大的，从不留在地面上，总是飞向厚厚的乌云。它经常在半夜飞过城市的街道上空，透过窗户往里看，玻璃上结的冰就会变成奇妙的形状，看上去像鲜花和城堡。”

“是的，我看见过。”两个孩子都说，知道这肯定是真的。

“冰雪女王会到这里来吗？”小姑娘问。

“就让她来好了，”小男孩说，“我要把她放在炉子上，让她融化。”

奶奶梳理着小男孩的头发，又给他讲了几个故事。一天傍晚，小凯伊在家里，衣服脱了一半，爬到窗边的椅子上，透过那个小圆洞往外看。几片雪花正在飘下来，其中一片比别的都大，落在了一个花箱的边缘。这枚雪花越变越大，最后变成了一个女人的形状，穿着白纱做的衣服，看上去像几百万朵晶莹剔透的雪花缀在一起。她那样清秀美丽，却是冰做的——亮晶晶、光闪闪的冰。然而她是活的，眼睛像星星一样闪亮，但目光既不平静也不安宁。她朝窗户点点头，挥了挥手。小男孩吓坏了，从椅子上跳开。与此同时，似乎有一只大鸟在窗外飞过。第二天，降了一场白霜，不久春天就到来了。太阳灿烂地照着，绿色的小芽儿开始绽放，燕子在搭窝。窗户打开了，孩子们又一次坐在了房顶的花园里，在所有的房屋之上。这个夏天的玫瑰花开得多么娇艳。小姑娘学会了一首讲到玫瑰的赞美诗，她想起了他们自己的玫瑰，便把赞美诗唱给小男孩听，小男孩也唱：——

玫瑰花儿不再开，

我们会看到小基督。

两个孩子手拉着手，亲吻玫瑰花，看着灿烂的阳光，他们对着阳光说话，就好像小基督也在。这是多么美好的夏日时光。呆在外面的玫瑰花丛中，多么美丽和清新，那些玫瑰花似乎永远也不会开败。一天，凯伊和吉尔达坐在那里看一本书，里面全是动物和鸟类的图画，就在教堂的钟楼敲响十二点时，凯伊说，“哦，什么东西刺到了我的心脏！”很快他又说，“我眼睛里进了东西。”

小姑娘用胳膊搂住他的脖子，仔细看他的眼睛，但没发现什么。

“好像消失了。”他说。其实并没有消失。那是一个碎镜片——就是我们前面说过的魔镜——那种丑陋的镜子，把又大又好的东西照得又小又丑，并让所有邪恶的东西都变得很明显，每一个缺点都看得那么清楚。可怜的小凯伊心里也钻进了一个小碎片，它很快就变成了一个冰块。凯伊不再感到疼痛，但碎片还在那里。“你哭什么？”他最后说，“这让你显得好丑。我现在没事儿了。哦，看！”他突然喊道，“那朵玫瑰被虫蛀了，这朵歪歪扭扭的。其实它们都是很丑的玫瑰花，就像这个种玫瑰的箱子。”说着，他用脚去踢箱子，并拔掉了两株玫瑰。

“凯伊，你在做什么呀？”小姑娘喊道。凯伊看到她被吓成了这样，就又拔掉一株玫瑰，然后跳进自己的窗户，离开了小吉尔达。

后来，吉尔达拿出那本图画书，凯伊说，“它只适合穿长袍的小宝宝看。”奶奶讲故事的时候，他总是用“但是”打断她。或者，如果逮到空子，他就跑到奶奶椅子后面，戴上一副眼镜，惟妙惟肖地模仿奶奶，逗大家发笑。慢慢地，他开始模仿街上的人说话和走路。某个人有点怪异或不雅的地方，他都直接模仿出来，人们说，“那个男孩非常聪明。他很有天分。”其实，他是因为眼睛里的碎片和心脏里的冰块才这样做的。他甚至还取笑全心全意爱着他的小吉尔达。他玩的游戏也变了样儿，不再那么像孩子了。冬天里，有一天下雪了，他拿出一面放大镜，把他蓝色大衣的后摆举起来，让雪花落在上面。“吉尔达，你看放大镜。”他说。吉尔达看见每一朵雪花都被神奇地放大，看上去像一朵美丽的鲜花或闪烁的星星。“是不是很聪明？”凯伊说。“比看真花有趣多了。没有一丝缺点，雪花在开始融化前是多么完美啊。”

不久，凯伊戴着厚厚的大手套出现了，背上扛着他的雪橇。他抬头朝楼上的吉尔达喊道，“我要到大广场去，别的男孩都在那里玩，滑雪橇。”

在大广场上，胆子最大的男孩经常把雪橇绑在乡下人的马车上，跟着滑出好远。这里是个中心城市。他们玩得非常开心，凯伊也在他们中间，就在这时，一架大雪橇驶了过来，上面坐着一个人，裹着白色的毛皮衣，戴着一顶白帽子。雪橇绕了广场两圈，凯伊把自己的小雪橇跟它绑在一起，所以当它离去时，他也跟着滑走。大雪橇滑过另一条街道，速度越来越快，赶雪橇的人转过脸来，愉快地朝凯伊点点头，就好像他们认识似的，每次凯伊想解开他的小雪橇，那人都朝他点头，于是凯伊坐着没动，他们驶出了城门。雪越下越大，小男孩只能看见前面手掌那么大的地方，但他们还在往前驶去。后来，小男孩突然解开绳子，让大雪橇自己滑走，可是没有用，他的小雪橇仍然跟得很紧，速度像风一样快。他开始大声喊叫，可是没有人听见，大雪纷纷落下，雪橇飞速向前。偶尔雪橇会跳动一下，似乎正越过篱笆或沟渠。小男孩吓坏了，想要祷告，可是除了九九表他什么也想不起来。

雪花变得越来越大，最后看上去像巨大的白鸡。突然，他们往旁边一窜，大雪橇停住了，赶雪橇的人站了起来。毛皮衣和帽子都是用雪做的，此刻滑落下去，凯伊看见一个女人，高挑，洁白，是冰雪女王。

“我们滑得很好，”她说，“可是你为什么发抖？来，钻进我温暖的毛皮衣里。”她让凯伊坐在大雪橇她的身边，用毛皮衣裹住了他，凯伊觉得仿佛陷进了一个雪堆。

“你还冷吗？”她问，然后亲吻凯伊的额头。她的吻比冰还冷，一直渗透到他的心脏，那里已经差不多是一块冰了。凯伊觉得自己快要死了，可是片刻之后，他似乎又恢复了正常，没有注意到周围的严寒。

“我的雪橇！别忘了我的雪橇！”这是他首先想到的，他再一看，发现雪橇紧紧地系在一只白鸡身上，白鸡驮着雪橇跟在他后面飞跑。冰雪女王又亲吻了一下小凯伊，这时候凯伊已经忘记了小吉尔达、他的奶奶，忘记了家里所有的人。

“好了，不能再吻你了，”冰雪女王说，“不然我会把你吻死的。”

凯伊看着她，觉得她美丽极了，他想象不出有哪一张脸比她更可爱、更智慧。此刻看上去她似乎不是冰做的，不像他透过窗户看见她，她冲他点头时的那样。在他看来，她是完美的，他一点儿也不感到害怕。他告诉冰雪女王，他会做心算，一直做到分数运算，还知道国家的面积和人口。冰雪女王总是那样微笑着，于是他觉得自己懂得还不够多。冰雪女王打量着辽阔的天空，带着凯伊骑着一朵乌云越飞越高，风暴在呼啸、吼叫，似乎唱着古老的歌谣。他们飞过树林和湖泊，飞过大海和陆地。狂风在他们下面肆虐。野狼咆哮，冰雪爆裂。那群尖叫的黑乌鸦在他们头顶飞翔，而在这一切之上，是一轮皎洁的月亮，那么清澈、明亮——就这样，凯伊度过了冬天的漫漫长夜，直至白天他都睡在冰雪女王的脚边。

第三个故事 女魔法师的花园

凯伊失踪后，小吉尔达经历了哪些事呢？谁都不知道凯伊的下落，也不能提供丝毫的信息，只有那些男孩子说，凯伊把自己的雪橇跟另一个大雪橇拴在一起，驶过街道，驶出了城门。谁也不知道大雪橇去了哪里。人们为凯伊流了许多泪，小吉尔达伤心地哭了很长时间。她说她知道凯伊肯定已经死了。他在学校旁边的那条河里淹死了。哦，那个漫长的冬天确实非常凄凉忧伤。最后，春天来了，带来了温暖的阳光。“凯伊死了。”小吉尔达说。

“我不相信。”阳光说。

“他死了。”她对燕子说。

“我们不相信。”燕子回答。最后小吉尔达自己也开始怀疑了。“我要穿上我那双崭新的红鞋子，”有一天早晨她说，“那是凯伊没有见过的，我要走到河边，打听他的消息。”天色还很早，她吻别了熟睡中的奶奶，穿上红鞋子，一个人出了城门，朝河边走去。“你真的把我的小伙伴带走了吗？”她对河流说。“如果你把他还给我，我就把我的红鞋子给你。”水流似乎在奇怪地对她点头。于是她脱掉红鞋子——她爱它们超过世界上的一切，把它们扔进河里，可是它们落在靠近岸边的地方，小小的波浪又把它们送到了岸上，就好像河流不肯拿走吉尔达最心爱的东西，因为它没法把小凯伊交还给她。吉尔达以为是鞋子扔得不够远。她钻进停在芦苇丛中的一条小船，从船尾再次把鞋子扔进水里，可是船没有拴牢，她这样一动，就使船漂离了岸边。吉尔达发现后，赶紧向船头跑去，还没等她到船头，小船就离开岸边一米多远了，而且越漂越快。小吉尔达吓坏了，哭了起来，除了燕子没有人听见她的哭声，燕子也没有办法把她送回陆地，但它们在岸上跟着她飞，而且，仿佛是为了安慰她，不停地唱着，“我们在这里！我们在这里！”小船顺流而下。小吉尔达一动不动地坐着，脚上只穿着长袜。红鞋子跟在后面漂，她够不着，因为小船一直领先鞋子很远。河岸两边的景色非常美丽。有漂亮的鲜花，参天的树木，还有牛羊们吃草的斜坡，但看不见一个人。也许河流要带我去找小凯伊，吉尔达想，于是她高兴起来，抬起头，看着郁郁葱葱的河岸，小船就这样漂流了几个小时。最后，她来到一大片樱桃园，里面有一座小小的红房子，那些红窗户和蓝窗户看上去多么奇怪。它还有茅草铺的房顶，门前站着两个木头士兵，在她顺水漂过时朝她持枪致敬。吉尔达以为它们是活人，大声朝它们喊话，它们当然没有回答。当小船漂得靠近岸边时，她才看出它们是木头人。吉尔达更加放声大叫，房子里走出一个很老的老太婆，拄着拐杖。她戴一顶大大的草帽遮挡阳光，帽子上绘着各种美丽的鲜花。“你这个可怜的小孩子，”老太婆说，“你怎么在这样湍急的水流中漂了这么远，进入了这个广阔的世界？”说着，老太婆走进水里，用拐杖钩住小船，把它拖到岸上，把吉尔达抱了出来。吉尔达很高兴回到干燥的陆地上，但她非常害怕这个奇怪的老太婆。“来跟我说说你是谁，”老太婆说，“你是怎么到这里来的。”

吉尔达把事情原原本本告诉了她，老太婆摇着头，嘴里说着，“哼，哼。”吉尔达说完后，问老太婆有没有看见小凯伊，老太婆告诉她，小凯伊没有从这里经过，但很可能会来。她叫吉尔达不要悲伤，吃点樱桃，看看鲜花，那些鲜花比任何故事书都好，每一朵花都能讲一个故事。老太婆牵着吉尔达的手，领她走进小房子，然后把门关上。窗户很高，那些玻璃是红色、蓝色和黄色的，阳光透过它们照进来，显出各种奇异的颜色。桌上放着美丽的樱桃，吉尔达可以想吃多少就吃多少。她吃樱桃的时候，老太婆用一把金梳子，帮她梳理长长的亚麻色卷发。富有光泽的发卷儿垂在那张愉快的小圆脸的两边，使她看上去像玫瑰花一样娇艳美丽。“很长时间以来，我一直希望有一个像你这样可爱的小姑娘，”老太婆说，“你必须留在我身边，看我们在一起能过得多么幸福。”她继续梳着小吉尔达的头发，吉尔达慢慢地不再去想她的小哥哥凯伊，因为老太婆会施魔法，不过她不是一个坏心肠的巫婆，她只是弄点小魔法让自己开心，此刻，她是想把吉尔达留下来。于是，她走进花园，朝所有美丽的玫瑰花丛伸出她的拐杖，立刻，它们就隐入了黑黢黢的泥土，谁也看不出它们开放的痕迹。老太婆担心，小吉尔达看见这些玫瑰花，就会想起家里的玫瑰花，然后想起小凯伊，从这里逃走。接着她把吉尔达领进花园。多么芬芳，多么美丽！一年四季所能想到的每一种花都在这里盛开，没有一本故事书的颜色能比它更绚丽。吉尔达高兴得跳了起来，她尽情地玩耍，直到太阳落到高高的樱桃树后。然后她在一张精美的床上睡觉，有红色的丝绸枕头，上面绣着彩色的紫罗兰。她做了一个美梦，梦见自己是女王在举行婚礼。第二天，以及后来的许多天，吉尔达都在温暖的阳光下跟花儿们玩耍。她认识每一种花，虽然它们数量这么多，但她总觉得缺了一种，究竟是哪一种呢，她又想不起来。一天，她坐在那里，看着老太婆绘着鲜花的草帽，发现其中最美丽的是一朵玫瑰花。老太婆让所有的玫瑰花隐入泥土时，忘记把这朵花从帽子上拿掉了。要做到万无一失是很难的，一个小小的失误就会破坏整个大局。

“哎呀，这里没有玫瑰花吗？”吉尔达大声说。她跑到外面的花园里，仔细查看所有的花床，找了一遍又一遍。一朵玫瑰花也没有发现。于是她坐下来哭泣，眼泪正好落在一株玫瑰花隐没的地方。热乎乎的眼泪滋润了泥土，玫瑰花立刻抽枝发芽，像以前一样绽放开来。吉尔达拥抱和亲吻着这些花朵，想起了家里的玫瑰花，接着便想起了凯伊。

“哦，我耽误了多久啊！”小姑娘说。“我是要去寻找小凯伊的。你们知道他在哪儿吗？”她问玫瑰花。“你们认为他已经死了吗？”

玫瑰花回答，“不，他没有死。我们曾深埋地下，那是所有死者安眠的地方，但是凯伊不在那里。”

“谢谢你。”小吉尔达说，然后她走向别的花儿，看着它们小小的花蕊，问，“你们知道小凯伊在哪里吗？”可是，阳光里的每一朵花儿，都只梦想着自己的小小童话故事，谁也不知道凯伊的情况。吉尔达向花儿挨个儿打听凯伊的消息，听到了它们的许多故事。

什么？卷丹花说。“听，你听见鼓声了吗？——‘咚，咚’——只有两个音符，总是‘咚，咚’。听听女人们的晨歌！听听祭司的喊声！印度的寡妇穿着红色长袍，站在火葬堆旁。她让自己躺在丈夫的尸体上，火焰在她周围熊熊升起。这个印度女人想着人群里的那个活人——她的儿子，正是他点燃了这些火焰。那双闪闪发亮的眼睛，比这些很快就要把她燃成灰烬的火苗更让她痛彻心扉。火葬堆的火焰能使内心的火熄灭吗？”

“我一点儿也听不懂。”小吉尔达说。

“那是我的故事。”卷丹花说。

什么？牵牛花说。“在那条窄窄的道路边，耸立着一座古老的骑士城堡。厚厚的爬山虎在颓垣断壁上蔓延，叶子叠着叶子，甚至蔓延到阳台上，那里站着一位美丽的姑娘。她在栏杆上俯身看着道路。玫瑰花在枝头绽放，都比不上她娇艳，苹果花在风中摇曳，也比不上她婀娜多姿。华贵的丝裙沙沙作响，她俯下身喊道，‘他来吗？’”

“你指的是凯伊吗？”吉尔达问。

“我说的只是我梦中的一个故事。”花儿回答。

什么？雪莲花说。“两棵树的中间悬着一根绳子，上面放着一块木板，这是秋千。两个美丽的小姑娘穿着雪白的衣服，帽子上飘着长长的绿丝带，坐在上面荡秋千。她们的哥哥比她们高，站在秋千上，用一只胳膊挽着绳子稳住身体。他一只手拿着一只小碗，另一只手拿着一根管子，他在吹泡泡。秋千荡起来的时候，泡泡往上飞去，映出各种最最美丽的颜色。最后一个泡泡久久地停在碗边，随风摇摆。秋千荡起，一只小黑狗跑了过来。它几乎像泡泡一样轻盈，后腿直立着站起来，也想荡秋千。可是秋千没有停住，黑狗趴下了，它汪汪地叫，很生气。孩子们朝它弯下腰去，泡泡爆裂了。一个荡来荡去的秋千，一幅轻盈的亮晶晶的泡沫画——那是我的故事。”

“你们跟我说的这些故事都很美，”小吉尔达说，“但你们说得这样伤感，却一个字儿也没有提到小凯伊。”

风信子是怎么说的呢？“从前有美丽的三姐妹，优雅妩媚。一个穿红，一个穿蓝，第三个穿的是纯白色。在静静的小湖边，在皎洁的月光下，她们手拉手跳舞。但她们不是精灵，只是凡人。甜蜜的香气吸引了她们，她们钻进了树林。这里香气更加强烈了。三口棺材里躺着三位美丽的姑娘，从密林深处的湖面滑过。萤火虫在她们上空轻盈地飞舞，像一个个游动的小火把。这些跳舞的姑娘是睡着了，还是死了？花香说她们已是尸体，晚钟声声宣告了她们的死亡。”

“你让我感到非常难过，”小吉尔达说，“你的香味儿太浓了，使我想起了那些死去的姑娘。啊！那么小凯伊真的死了吗？玫瑰花曾经埋在土里，它们说他没死。”

“玎玲，玎玲。”风信子的铃铛在响。“我们不是为小凯伊敲丧钟。我们不认识他。我们在唱自己的歌，我们只知道这首歌。”

于是，吉尔达走向在鲜艳的绿叶中闪闪发亮的毛莨花。

“你们这些明亮的小太阳，”吉尔达说，“告诉我，你们知道在哪儿能找到我的伙伴吗？”

毛莨花绽放出艳丽的光芒，又一次看着吉尔达。毛莨花会唱什么歌呢？它也不是关于凯伊的。

“在春天第一个温暖的日子里，明亮的太阳暖洋洋地照着小小的院落。灿烂的阳光停在隔壁人家的白墙上。春天的第一朵黄花在近旁开放，在温暖的阳光中像金子一样闪闪烁烁。一位老妇人坐在门边的扶手椅里，她的孙女儿，一个穷苦而美丽的小女佣，过来看望她。当她亲吻奶奶时，四下里到处都是金子：那神圣的亲吻里蕴含着金子般的情感。那是一个金色的早晨，耀眼的阳光里有金子，朴素小花的花瓣里有金子，姑娘的嘴唇上有金子。这，就是我的故事。”毛莨花说。

“我可怜的老奶奶！”吉尔达叹息道。“她一定在苦苦地思念我，为我感到悲伤，就像为小凯伊感到悲伤一样。但我很快就会回家的，带着小凯伊一起。看来向花儿打听没有用，它们只知道自己的歌，不能给我任何消息。”

于是，她撩起小裙子，让自己跑得更快一些，当她跳过水仙花时，水仙花抓住了她的腿。她停下来，看着这株修长的黄花，说，“也许你知道一点什么。”

她俯下身，凑近水仙花，侧耳细听。水仙花说了什么呢？

“我能亲眼看见，我能亲眼看见。”水仙花说。“哦，我的香味儿多么甜蜜！在上面那个带凸肚窗的小房间里，站着一个跳舞的小姑娘，衣服还没穿好。她有时单脚站立，有时双脚站立，看上去似乎要把整个世界都踩在她的脚下。其实她只是一个幻觉。她把茶壶里的水倒到手里拿的一件东西上，那是她的紧身胸衣。‘清洁是一件好事。’她说。她的白裙子挂在钉子上，也在茶壶里洗过，在屋顶晾干。她穿上裙子，在脖子上系一条橘黄色的手帕，使裙子看上去更白。看她是怎样伸展她的双腿，像鲜花在炫耀美姿。我能亲眼看见，我能亲眼看见。”

“这些跟我有什么关系，”吉尔达说，“你用不着告诉我这些。”说完，她跑到花园的另一头。门关得紧紧的，她使劲一推，生锈的门闩就松动了。门一下子打开，小吉尔达光着脚跑进了广阔的世界。她回头看了三次，似乎没有人在追她。最后，她实在跑不动了，就坐在一块大石头上休息，她环顾四周，发现夏天已经过去，秋色已经很浓。而在美丽的花园里，阳光照耀，鲜花一年四季开放，她对外面的变化一无所知。

“哦，我浪费了多少时间啊！”小吉尔达说。“现在是秋天了。我不能再休息了。”她站起来继续往前走。可是她的小脚丫受了伤，又肿又痛，周围的一切都显得这么凄冷和萧条。长长的柳枝已经泛黄，露珠儿像水一样滚落，树上的枯叶一片片地飘零，只有黑刺李树上还结着果子，但黑刺李是酸的，让人牙根发软。哦，整个世界显得多么黑暗和疲倦啊！

第四个故事 王子和公主

吉尔达只好再休息休息，她坐在那里，看见对面有一只大乌鸦，在雪地上朝她蹦蹦跳跳地过来了。乌鸦打量了吉尔达一会儿，摇摇头，说，“呱，呱，你好，你好。”他尽量把话说得清楚些，因为他想对小姑娘好一点。然后他问吉尔达，在这广阔的世界里，她一个人要去哪儿。

吉尔达听懂了乌鸦的话，也知道乌鸦想要表达的意思。于是，她把自己的经历和冒险故事都告诉了乌鸦，又问他有没有见过凯伊。

乌鸦非常严肃地点点头，说，“也许，我见过——可能见过。”

“不会吧！你真的见过？”小吉尔达喊了起来，她高兴地亲了亲乌鸦，搂得他几乎透不过气来。

“轻点，轻点。”乌鸦说。“我应该是知道的。我想那可能就是小凯伊。但他有了公主，这会儿肯定已经忘记你了。”

“他跟公主住在一起？”吉尔达问。

“是啊，你听我说，”乌鸦回答，“唉，用你们的语言说话真不容易。如果你能听懂乌鸦的语言，我就能解释得更清楚了。你懂吗？”

“不懂，从来没学过，”吉尔达说，“但我奶奶能听懂，以前说给我听过。真后悔我没学会。”

“没关系，”乌鸦说，“我会尽量给你解释，不过肯定解释得很糟糕。”他把自己听到的事情讲给吉尔达听。“在这个王国里，”他说，“住着一位公主，她聪明极了，世界上所有的报纸她都读过，但她虽然这么聪明，也是读完就忘了。不久之前，她坐在她的宝座上，据说那宝座其实并没有人们以为的那样舒服，她开始唱一首歌，开头是这样的：

“‘我为什么不结婚呢？’

“‘为什么呢？’她说，于是她决定结婚，只要能找到一个能够跟她对话的丈夫，而不是一个看上去仪表堂堂，实际上非常乏味的家伙。她吩咐敲响鼓点，把宫廷里的女人都召集到一起。她们听了她的打算，都非常高兴。‘这消息让我们太高兴了，’她们说，‘我们那天还说起这件事来着。’你可以相信我跟你说的每句话都是真的。”乌鸦说，“因为我有一个家养的相好，她能自由出入王宫，这些都是她告诉我的。”

当然啦，他的相好是一只乌鸦，因为“鸟以类聚”，乌鸦总是找乌鸦的。

“报纸立刻分发出去，配着心形的花边，花边里印着公主名字的缩写字母。他们颁发告示，每一位长相英俊的年轻男子都可以到城堡来跟公主说话。那些答话声音洪亮，能被听见的人，可以把王宫当成自己家里一样。而答话最精彩的那位将被选为公主的丈夫。没错，没错，你可以相信我，这些都是真的，就像我现在坐在这里一样确切无疑。”乌鸦说。“人们大批地涌来。你奔我跑，推推搡搡，可是第一天和第二天都没有人胜出。他们在外面的街道上说起话来都没问题，一进王宫大门，看见穿银色制服的卫兵，还有站在楼梯上的穿金色套装的男仆以及被照得灯火通明的大厅，就变得昏头昏脑了。等他们站在公主的宝座跟前，便傻乎乎的只会重复公主说的最后几个词。而公主不太愿意听见别人重复自己的话。那些男人好像在王宫里吃了什么让他们昏昏欲睡的药，只有回到大街上才能恢复正常，说得出话来。他们从城门口到王宫排了很长的队伍。我亲眼看见的。”乌鸦说。“他们又饿又渴，因为在王宫里连一杯水也喝不上。有几个最有脑子的带了几块面包和一些黄油，但他们没有分给周围的人。他们想，如果别人一副饿鬼的样子去见公主，他们自己的机会就更大一些。”

“可是凯伊呢！跟我说说小凯伊的事！”吉尔达说。“他也在人群里吗？”

“慢来，慢来，正要说到他呢。到了第三天，一个小人儿快活地大步走向王宫，没有骑马，也没有乘马车，他的眼睛像你的一样闪闪发亮。他有漂亮的长头发，但身上的衣服非常破旧。”

“那就是凯伊！”吉尔达高兴地说，“哦，这么说我找到他了。”她拍起了巴掌。

“他背上扛着一个小背包。”乌鸦补充道。

“不，那肯定是他的雪橇，”吉尔达说，“他走的时候带着的。”

“那也有可能，”乌鸦说，“我没有凑近了细看。但我从我那位家养的相好那里得知，那个小人儿走进王宫的大门，看见了穿银色制服的卫兵，和楼梯上穿金色套装的男仆，但他一点儿也不感到局促不安。‘站在楼梯上肯定很无聊，’他说，‘我情愿走进去。’那些房间里都是耀眼的灯光。顾问和大臣们光着脚走来走去，手里托着金子做的器皿，换了任何一个人，都会觉得那架势非同小可。他走起路来靴子嘎嘎作响，但他一点儿也没感到不安。”

“肯定是凯伊，”吉尔达说，“我知道他穿了新靴子，我听见它们在奶奶的房间里嘎嘎作响。”

“确实嘎嘎作响，”乌鸦说，“他很大胆地走到公主面前。公主坐在一颗纺车轮那么大的珍珠上，所有的侍女都带着自己的女佣，所有的骑士都带着自己的男仆。每个女佣又有另一个女佣在服侍她，每个骑士的男仆又有自己的仆人和自己的小听差。他们都围着圈儿站在公主身边，站得离门越近的越骄傲。仆人的小听差总是穿着便鞋，你简直没法朝他们看，他们站在门口，骄傲得鼻孔朝天。”

“那肯定很吓人，”小吉尔达说，“凯伊有没有赢得公主呢？”

“如果我不是一只乌鸦，”他说，“我自己就跟公主结婚了，不过我已经订过婚了。我听我那位家养的相好说，那个小人儿说起话来跟我说乌鸦的语言一样流利。他非常放松，潇洒随意，说他不是来向公主求爱，而是来了解公主的智慧。公主对他很满意，他对公主也很满意。”

“哦，那肯定是凯伊，”吉尔达说，“他一直就很聪明，会做心算和分数题。哦，你能带我到王宫去吗？”

“问一句倒是很容易，”乌鸦回答，“可是怎样才能办得到呢？不过，我会把这事儿跟我那家养的相好说说，听听她的意见。我必须告诉你，像你这样一个小姑娘要想获准进入王宫，可是难上加难。”

“哦，没错，但我很容易就能得到批准，”吉尔达说，“凯伊听说我来了，肯定立刻就会出来接我的。”

“你在篱笆这儿等着我。”乌鸦说，摇晃着脑袋飞走了。

一直到傍晚乌鸦才回来。“呱，呱，”他说，“我的相好托我问候你，这是一个小面包卷儿，是她从厨房拿给你的。厨房里有许多面包，她认为你肯定饿了。你要从正门进入王宫是不可能的。穿银色制服的卫兵和穿金色套装的仆人都会把你拦住。可是你别哭，我们会想办法把你弄进去的。我的相好知道一条隐秘的小楼梯，一直通到卧房，她知道哪儿能找到钥匙。”

他们顺着大道进入花园，树叶一片接一片地飘落，他们看见王宫里的灯也一盏接一盏地熄灭。乌鸦领着小吉尔达来到后门，后门开着一道缝。哦！小吉尔达的心因为焦虑和渴望而剧烈地跳动，就好像她要去做一件坏事，其实她只是想知道小凯伊在哪里。“那肯定是他，”她想，“那样清澈的眼睛，那样长长的头发。”她在想象中看见凯伊朝她微笑，就像以前他们坐在家里的玫瑰花丛中一样。凯伊肯定很愿意见到她，听她说说为了他的缘故她走了这么远的路，并知道家里人因为他没有回去感到多么难过。哦，小吉尔达真是又开心又担忧！他们已经上了楼梯，楼梯顶上的一个小壁橱里点着一盏油灯。地板中央站着那只家养的乌鸦，她左右转动着脑袋，打量着吉尔达，吉尔达按奶奶教她的方式行了个屈膝礼。

“尊贵的小姐，我的未婚夫对你评价很高，”家养的乌鸦说，“你的身世，也就是所谓的简历，非常令人感动。你提着这盏灯，我走在你前面。我们顺着这边一直往前走，便不会遇到任何人。”

“我觉得好像后面有人。”吉尔达说，什么东西像墙上的影子一样从她身边冲了过去，接着是一些马，鬃毛飞扬、四腿细瘦，还有骑在马上的女士和先生，都像墙上的影子一样在旁边掠过。

“他们只是梦，”乌鸦说，“他们来拿取那些外出打猎的大人物的思想。”

“这样更好，我们到他们床边去看他们就更安全了。我希望等你日后发达了，能表现得知恩图报。”

“这点你尽管放心。”森林里的乌鸦说。

他们走进了第一道走廊，墙上挂着玫瑰红色的缎子，绣着花儿。在这里，梦又一次嗖嗖地掠过，速度那么快以至于吉尔达无法看清那些王室成员。每道走廊都比前一道更加富丽堂皇，足以把任何人都弄得不知所措。最后他们来到一间卧室。天花板像一棵巨大的棕榈树，地板中央放着两张床，每张床都像一朵百合花，挂在金色的花茎上。一张白色的床上躺着公主，另一张床是红色的，吉尔达要在这里寻找小凯伊。她掀开一片红色的花瓣，看见一截褐色的小脖子。哦，那肯定是凯伊！她大声呼喊凯伊的名字，举起油灯去照他。梦骑着马儿冲回了房间。他醒了，转过头来，却不是小凯伊！王子只是脖子像凯伊，但他也是年轻漂亮的。这时公主从她白色的百合花床上看见了，问是怎么回事。小吉尔达哭了，把事情的经过，以及两只乌鸦对她的帮助，都告诉了公主。

“你这个可怜的孩子。”王子和公主说。他们表扬了两只乌鸦，说他们不会因为乌鸦做的事情而生气，但是下不为例，这次乌鸦应该得到奖赏。

“你是愿意获得自由呢，”公主问，“还是愿意被提升到宫廷乌鸦的位置，厨房里的残羹剩饭都归你？”

两只乌鸦都鞠躬，恳求得到一个稳定的差事，因为他们年纪已经大了，他们说，想到晚年能吃到粮食（他们是这么说的），心里别提有多踏实了。这时，王子从床上起来，把床让给了吉尔达——他只能做到这点了，吉尔达躺了下来。她叠起小小的双手，想，“不管是人还是动物，大家都对我这么好。”她闭上眼睛，进入了甜蜜的梦乡。所有的梦都飞回来找她了，他们看上去像天使一样，其中一个还拖着一只小雪橇，凯伊坐在雪橇上，冲着她点头。然而这一切只是个梦，她一醒来就消失了。

第二天，她从头到脚穿上了丝绸和天鹅绒的衣服，他们邀请她在王宫里呆几天，好好玩玩，但她只求他们给她一双靴子，一辆小马车，还有一匹拉车的马，这样她就能到广阔的世界里去寻找凯伊了。她不仅得到了靴子，还得到一个防寒的手笼，浑身穿戴整齐，准备出发。她来到门口，发现一辆纯金的马车，王子和公主的盾徽像星星一样在车上闪亮，赶车人、脚夫和侍从的头上都戴着金冠。王子和公主亲自扶她上马，祝她成功。森林里的乌鸦已经结婚，陪着她飞了三英里。乌鸦坐在吉尔达身边，因为他受不了往后倒着飞。家养的乌鸦站在门口扑扇着翅膀。她不能陪他们一起去，因为她升职以后就一直头痛，毫无疑问是吃得太多了。马车上装了许多甜蛋糕，座位下面是水果和姜饼干果。“再会，再会。”王子和公主喊道，小吉尔达哭了，乌鸦也哭了。马车驶出几英里后，乌鸦也说，“再会。”这是最令人伤心的分离。他飞到一棵树上，不停地扇动他那黑色的翅膀，直到再也看不见阳光下闪闪发亮的马车为止。

第五个故事 小女匪

马车驶过一片茂密的树林，像火把一样照亮了道路，也刺痛了几个土匪的眼睛，他们可不能让它就这样毫发无损地过去。

“是金子！是金子！”他们大喊着冲上前去，抓住了那些马。然后把小侍从、赶车人和脚夫都打死了，把小吉尔达从马车里拖了出来。

“她胖乎乎的，真好看，是用干果仁儿喂大的吧。”土匪老太婆说，她留着长长的胡子，眉毛从眼睛上耷拉下来。“她像小羊羔一样鲜美，味道肯定不错！”说着，她拔出一把闪着寒光的刀子。“哎哟！”老太婆惨叫一声，因为她的女儿拖住她，在她耳朵上咬了一口。那是一个野性、顽皮的姑娘，她妈妈管她叫丑八怪。这样一来，老太婆就没顾上杀死吉尔达。

“我要她陪我玩，”小女匪说，“我要她把她的手笼和漂亮衣服都给我，跟我一起睡在我的床上。”说着，她又咬了她妈妈一口，老太婆直窜起来，不停地跳脚。土匪们都笑了起来，说，“看，她跟她的小崽子跳舞呢。”

“我要坐坐马车。”小女匪说。她说到就要办到，因为她非常任性和固执。

她和吉尔达在马车里坐定，马车驶开去，碾过树桩和石子，进入密林深处。小女匪的个头跟吉尔达差不多，但是比吉尔达结实，肩膀宽，皮肤黑。她的眼睛乌溜溜的，神情忧郁。她一把搂住小吉尔达的腰，说道——

“只要你不惹我们生气，他们就不会杀你。我猜你是一位公主。”

“不是。”吉尔达说。她原原本本地讲了自己的故事以及她对小凯伊的喜爱。

小女匪真诚地看着她，微微点头，然后说，“即使你让我生气了，他们也不能杀你，我要亲手杀你。”她擦干吉尔达的眼泪，把自己的双手插进柔软而温暖的美丽手笼里。

马车停在了一座土匪城堡的院子里，城堡的墙壁从上到下都裂开了。渡鸦和乌鸦在窟窿和裂缝里飞出飞进，硕大的斗牛狗跳来跳去，它们看上去能把人一口吞下。但是它们不许叫出声来。在宽敞的、烟雾缭绕的大厅里，石头地面上生着一堆明亮的旺火。没有烟囱，烟直冲天花板，自己找缝儿钻出去。一口大坩埚里在煮汤，烤肉叉上在烤兔子肉。

“今晚你跟我和我所有的小动物一起睡觉。”吃喝完毕后，小女匪说。她把吉尔达带到大厅的一个角落，那里铺了一些稻草和毡毯。在她们头顶的木条和栖枝上，有一百多只鸽子，看样子都睡着了，可是当两个小姑娘靠近时，它们微微动一动。“这些都属于我。”小女匪说。她抓起离她最近的那只鸽子，捏住它的脚使劲摇晃，直到它扑扇起了翅膀。“吻它。”她大声说，把鸽子送到吉尔达面前。“那边是木鸽。”她继续说，指着一大片木条，和一个嵌进墙里、靠近一道豁口的笼子。“这两个淘气鬼如果不牢牢地锁起来，一下子就飞走了。这是我的老伙计‘巴尔’。”她拽着一只驯鹿的角把它拉过来。驯鹿被拴着，脖子上戴着一个亮晶晶的铜圈儿。“我们不得不把它紧紧拴住，不然它也会逃跑的。我每天晚上都用我那把锋利的刀子挠它的脖子，把它吓得要命。”说着，小女匪从墙上一道裂缝里抽出一把长长的刀子，让它在驯鹿的脖子上轻轻滑过。可怜的驯鹿开始踢腿，小女匪哈哈大笑，然后拉吉尔达跟她一起倒在床上睡觉。

“你睡觉的时候也带着刀子吗？”吉尔达问，非常害怕地看着那把刀。

“我总是带着刀子睡觉的。”小女匪说。“谁也不知道会发生什么事。好了，你再跟我说说小凯伊的事，还有你为什么要出来闯世界。”

于是吉尔达把故事又讲了一遍，笼子里的木鸽在她头顶上咕咕地叫，其他的鸽子都睡觉了。小女匪用一只胳膊搂住吉尔达的脖子，另一只手里拿着刀子，很快就睡着了，打起呼噜来。可是吉尔达怎么也合不上眼。她不知道自己的命运是生是死。土匪们围坐在火边，喝酒唱歌，老太婆东倒西歪地走来走去。在一个小姑娘眼里，这一幕实在太可怕了。

这时，木鸽说话了，“咕咕，咕咕，我们看见过小凯伊。一只白鸡驮着他的雪橇，凯伊坐在冰雪女王的车子里。车子驶过树林时，我们正躺在窝里。她朝我们吹了口气，小鸽子们都死了，只留下我们俩。咕咕，咕咕。”

“你们在那上面说什么？”吉尔达大声问。“冰雪女王去了哪里？你们知道吗？”

“她很可能去了拉普兰拉普兰：北欧地区，包括挪威、瑞典、芬兰北部及俄罗斯欧洲部分西北端。，那里总是冰天雪地。你问问被绳子拴在那里的驯鹿吧。”

“没错，那里总是冰天雪地，”驯鹿说，“是个辉煌的好地方。你可以在晶光闪闪的雪原上自由自在地奔跑、跳跃。冰雪女王的夏宫就在那里，但她牢固的城堡是在北极，在一个名叫斯匹次卑尔根斯匹次卑尔根：位于巴伦支海与格陵兰海之间的挪威群岛。的岛上。”

“哦，凯伊，小凯伊！”吉尔达叹着气说。

“躺着别动。”小女匪说，“不然我就把刀子刺进你的身体。”

早晨，吉尔达把木鸽的话全都告诉了小女匪。小女匪显得非常严肃，她点了点头说，“都是谣言，都是谣言。你知道拉普兰在哪儿吗？”她问驯鹿。

“谁能比我更清楚呢？”驯鹿说，眼睛里闪出光芒。“我就是在那里出生长大的，曾在那冰雪覆盖的平原上奔跑。”

“你给我听着，”小女匪说，“我们的人都走了——只有我妈妈还在，她要留在这儿。但是她中午总要喝一大瓶酒，然后就会睡一会儿。到那时候，我替你想想办法。”说着，她从床上跳起来，抓住她妈妈的脖子，揪住她妈妈的胡须，喊道，“我的小母羊啊，早上好。”她妈妈用手弹她的鼻子，弹得红红的。但她是因为爱才这么做的。

老太婆喝光了一瓶酒，倒头睡去后，小女匪走到驯鹿跟前，说，“其实我很想用我的刀子再挠几遍你的脖子，因为这时候你的表情好玩极了。可是没关系——我要解开你的绳子，给你自由，让你跑到拉普兰去。但你必须好好利用你的腿，驮着这位小姑娘去冰雪女王的城堡，那里有她的伙伴。你听见了她跟我说的话，她声音很高，你当时也在听。”

驯鹿高兴得跳了起来。小女匪把吉尔达抱到驯鹿背上，还仔细地给她系上绳子，并拿出自己的小垫子让吉尔达坐在上面。

“这是你的毛皮靴子，”她说，“那里会很冷的。但我必须把手笼留下，它太漂亮了。不过，你不会因为没有手笼而受冻的。这是我妈妈的大厚手套，能一直套到你的胳膊肘。我来给你戴上吧。瞧，现在你的手跟我妈妈的一样了。”

吉尔达高兴得哭了起来。

“我不喜欢看到你发愁，”小女匪说，“你现在应该看上去很开心才是。这是两块面包和一块火腿，有了它们你就不会挨饿了。”她把这些都系在了驯鹿身上，然后打开门，把那些大斗牛狗都哄了进来，用她那把锋利的刀子割断拴住驯鹿的绳子，说道，“好了，快跑吧，千万别忘了把小姑娘照顾好。”吉尔达朝小女匪伸出戴着大手套的手，说，“再会。”于是，驯鹿撒腿飞奔，以它最快的速度踏过树桩和石子，穿过密密的大森林，越过沼泽和平原。狼在长啸，渡鸦在尖叫，高高的天空中闪动着火苗般的红光。“这是我亲爱的北极光，”驯鹿说，“看它们一闪一闪。”它白天黑夜地奔跑，速度越来越快，可是，当他们到达拉普兰时，面包和火腿都吃光了。

第六个故事 拉普兰女人和芬兰女人

他们在一间茅草屋前停住脚步。小屋看上去很破旧，倾斜的屋顶几乎耷拉到地面，门很矮，家里的人进进出出都必须在地上爬。屋里只有一个拉普兰老太婆，正就着海豹油的灯光煮鱼呢。驯鹿先讲了他自己的故事，他认为那是最重要的，接着把吉尔达的故事全都告诉了她，吉尔达冻得浑身发僵，没法开口说话。“哦，你们这些可怜的家伙，”拉普兰老太婆说，“还有很远的路要走呢。你们必须再走一百多英里，到芬兰去。眼下冰雪女王住在那里，她每天晚上都燃放信号灯。我没有纸，就在一条鳕鱼干上写几句话，你可以拿去给住在那里的芬兰女人。她能告诉你们更详细的情况。”于是，吉尔达暖和过来，吃了东西喝了水，老太婆在鳕鱼干上写了几句话，叫吉尔达小心地拿着。她把吉尔达又绑在驯鹿身上，驯鹿以最快的速度出发了。在整个漫长的夜晚，美丽的蓝色北极星都在空中一闪、一闪。最后他们来到了芬兰，撞在芬兰女人小屋的烟囱上，因为小屋在地面上没有门。他们爬了进去，里面热得要命，女人几乎没穿什么衣服。她个头很小，看上去脏兮兮的。她解开小吉尔达的衣服，脱掉毛皮靴子和手套，不然吉尔达就热得受不了啦。她又把一块冰放在驯鹿的脑袋上，读了写在鳕鱼干上的话。她读了三遍，把内容记在心里，就把鱼扔进了汤锅，她知道这条鱼很好吃，而且她从来不浪费东西。驯鹿先讲自己的故事，再讲小吉尔达的故事，芬兰女人机敏的眼睛闪闪发光，但她什么也没说。“你聪明极了，”驯鹿说，“我知道你能用一根绳子把世界上所有的风都捆起来。水手解开一个绳结，就会得到一阵微风；解开两个绳结，风势加大；如果解开三个、四个，就会来一场风暴，把所有的森林都连根拔起。你能不能给这个小姑娘一些东西，让她变得像十二个男人一样强大，去征服冰雪女王呢？”

“十二个男人的力量！”芬兰女人说，“那不会有什么用的。”她走到架子前，拿下一张大皮子展开，上面印着一些奇妙的文字，她读着读着，汗水从额头上滚落下来。驯鹿替小吉尔达苦苦央求，吉尔达用恳切的、泪汪汪的眼睛看着芬兰女人，看得芬兰女人的眼睛又开始闪烁光芒。于是她把驯鹿拉到墙角，低声对他耳语，又在他的脑袋上放了一块冰。“小凯伊确实跟冰雪女王在一起，但他发现那里的一切都很合他的兴趣和口味，他相信那是世界上最好的地方。这是因为他的心里有一块碎玻璃片，眼睛里也有一小片碎玻璃。必须把它们取出来，不然他永远不会恢复正常，冰雪女王就能用魔力控制他。”

“那么，你能不能给吉尔达一点东西，帮助她去征服这种魔力呢？”

“她本身的力量已经很大，超过了我能够给她的，”女人说，“你没看出这力量有多大吗？人和动物都不得不为她服务，她虽然光着脚，却在世界上到处闯荡。她从我这里得到的力量，不会超过她已经拥有的，那便是她的洁净和纯真的心灵。如果她自己不能接近冰雪女王，去除小凯伊身上的玻璃碎片，我们也没有办法帮助她。离这儿两英里就是冰雪女王的花园开始的地方。你可以把小姑娘驮到那里，放在雪地里一大片结满红浆果的灌木丛边。别在那儿呆着说闲话，赶紧以最快的速度回这儿来。”说完，芬兰女人把小吉尔达抱到驯鹿背上，驯鹿驮着她飞快地跑走了。

“哦，我忘记了我的靴子和手套。”小吉尔达感到了刺骨的寒冷，大声喊道，可是驯鹿不敢停下，一直跑到了那片结满浆果的灌木丛。他放下吉尔达，亲了亲她，大颗大颗亮晶晶的泪水顺着驯鹿的面颊流下来。他撇下吉尔达，以最快的速度往回跑。

可怜的吉尔达站在寒冷荒凉、冰天雪地的芬兰中部，没穿鞋子，没戴手套。她拼命地往前跑，这时一团雪花把她围住了。它们不是从天上落下来的，天空清清朗朗，闪烁着北极光。雪花跟地面平行奔跑，离她越近，看上去越大。吉尔达想起了透过放大镜看到的雪花那么大、那么美丽。这些雪花比那还要大，但是可怕得多，因为它们是活的，是冰雪女王的卫兵。它们的形状非常奇怪，有的像豪猪，有的像扭在一起的蛇伸着脑袋，还有几个像胖嘟嘟的小熊，鬃毛又粗又硬。它们都白得耀眼，都是活的雪花。小吉尔达不停地念着祈祷，实在太冷了，她祈祷时能看到嘴里哈的气像白雾一样冒出来。她不停地祈祷，白雾似乎越来越大，最后幻化成一些小天使的形状，一碰到地面就变大了。它们都戴着头盔，拿着长矛和盾牌，数量不断增加，当吉尔达祈祷结束时，周围已经有了千军万马。它们把长矛刺向那些可怕的雪花，雪花颤抖着变成了碎片，小吉尔达就可以安全地、勇气十足地继续前进了。天使们抚摸她的手脚使她觉得不那么冷了。她加快速度，赶往冰雪女王的城堡。

现在我们必须看看凯伊在做什么。实际上，他并没有想过小吉尔达，也绝对猜不到她会站在宫殿的门前。

第七个故事 冰雪女王的宫殿和最后的结局

宫殿的墙壁由积雪堆成，窗户和门都是凛冽的寒风。宫殿里有一百多个房间，似乎都是白雪吹积而成。其中最大的房间连绵好几英里。灿烂的曙光把这些房间照得通亮，每一个房间都那么大、那么空旷，寒冷刺骨，晶莹透亮！这里没有任何娱乐，连小熊舞会也没有——在那小熊舞会上，暴风雪就是音乐，熊们直起后腿跳舞，个个表现得彬彬有礼。这里也没有令人愉快的抢葡萄干游戏，没有火把，甚至没有年轻女郎热衷的茶桌上的闲谈。冰雪女王的厅堂寒冷、空旷，一无所有。从城堡的各个部分都能清楚地看到北极光闪烁的火焰，在天空或高或低地升腾。而在无边无际的、空旷的白雪大厅中央，是一方冻结的湖，湖面的冰碎裂成一千块，每一块都很相像，本身就像一件完美的艺术品，冰雪女王在家的时候，就坐在湖的中间。她管这个湖叫“理性的镜子”，并说它是世界上最好的，也是唯一的湖。

小凯伊冻得浑身发青，几乎都发紫了，可是他感觉不到。因为冰雪女王用吻消除了寒冷的颤抖，而且凯伊的心已经变成了一块冰。他把几个扁平、锋利的冰块拖来拖去，摆成不同的形状，似乎想拼出什么意思来，就像我们用被称为“中国积木”的小木块儿拼成各种图案。凯伊的手指很有艺术性。他玩的是冰冷的理性游戏，在他眼中，图形不同寻常，至关重要。他这么看问题是因为他眼睛里仍然扎着玻璃碎片。他拼出了许多完整的图形，构成不同的字眼儿，可是有一个词，虽然他特别想拼，却怎么也拼不出来。这个词就是“永恒”。冰雪女王对他说过，“等你拼出了这个词，就可以做自己的主人，我会给你整个世界和一双新的冰鞋。”可是凯伊无法完成。

“现在我必须赶紧去比较暖和的国度了，”冰雪女王说，“我要去看看他们所说的埃特纳火山意大利西西里岛东北部火山，为欧洲最高活火山。和威苏维火山，看看火山顶上黑色的火山口——我要让它们看上去白皑皑的，这样对它们好，对柠檬和葡萄也好。”说完，冰雪女王就飞走了，留下小凯伊一个人在连绵好几英里的大厅里。他坐在那里看着他的冰块，陷入了沉思，他坐着一动不动，别人会以为他冻僵了呢。

就在这时，小吉尔达走进了城堡的大门。刺骨的寒风在她周围肆虐，但她念起了祷告，寒风就偃旗息鼓，好像要睡觉了一样。小吉尔达一直走到空荡荡的大厅，看见了凯伊。她一眼就认出了他，立刻奔到他身边，用胳膊搂住他的脖子，把他抱得紧紧的，同时大声喊道，“凯伊，小凯伊，我终于找到你了。”

可是凯伊一动不动地坐着，冰冷，僵硬。

小吉尔达眼里涌出了滚烫的泪水，滴落在小凯伊的胸口，渗进他的心里，融化了那块冰，冲走了扎在那里的一小片碎玻璃。小凯伊看着她，小吉尔达唱道——

玫瑰花儿不再开，

我们会看到小基督。

凯伊哭了，哭得那么伤心，泪水把眼睛里的玻璃碎片冲了出来。他认出了吉尔达，高兴地说，“吉尔达，亲爱的小吉尔达，你这些日子都在哪儿呀？我在哪儿呀？”他看了看四周，说，“这里多冷啊，所有的一切都这么大，这么空旷。”他紧紧地抓住吉尔达，吉尔达高兴得又是哭又是笑。他们俩的样子实在令人喜悦，就连那些冰块都跳起舞来。它们跳累了躺下休息，自动组成了那个单词的字母，冰雪女王说过，凯伊拼出了这个词，就能成为自己的主人，还能得到整个世界和一双新的冰鞋。吉尔达亲吻凯伊的面颊，它们立刻变得红扑扑的。她亲吻他的眼睛，它们变得像她的眼睛一样明亮闪烁；她亲吻他的手和脚，凯伊一下子变得那么健康和快乐。冰雪女王想回来就回来吧，凯伊注定会获得自由，冰块用亮闪闪的字母拼出了她要的那个单词。

于是，他们手拉手走出了巨大的冰雪宫殿。他们谈到了奶奶，谈到了屋顶上的玫瑰花，走着走着，风渐渐平息，太阳露出了笑脸。当他们来到挂满红色浆果的灌木丛时，驯鹿正站在那里等他们呢，而且还带来了另一只年轻的驯鹿，她的乳房胀鼓鼓的，孩子们喝了她热乎乎的奶，亲吻她的嘴。然后，他们驮着凯伊和吉尔达先去了芬兰女人那里，在那座热腾腾的小屋里让全身都暖和过来，芬兰女人告诉他们回家的路该怎么走。他们又去了拉普兰女人那里，她已经给他们做了几件新衣服，而且把他们的雪橇也修好了。两只驯鹿并排跟着他们跑，一直跑到国家的边境上，这里已经冒出了嫩绿的新芽儿。他们告别了两只驯鹿和拉普兰女人，大家都说——再会了。这时候小鸟儿开始啾啾鸣唱，森林里也满是绿色的嫩叶。一匹美丽的马从林中跑出来，吉尔达想起来了，它就是曾经拉那辆金色马车的那匹马。骑在马上的是一个年轻姑娘，头上戴着一顶红艳艳的帽子，腰里别着小手枪。原来是那个小女匪，她厌倦了总是呆在家里。她准备先去北方，如果觉得那里不合适，就到世界上的其他地方去闯闯。她一眼就认出了吉尔达，吉尔达也记得她：好友相逢真是太高兴了。

“你是个好样儿的家伙，竟然这样到处闲逛，”她对小凯伊说，“我倒很想知道，你是不是值得某个人天涯海角地来找你。”

吉尔达拍拍小女匪的面颊，向她询问王子和公主的情况。

“他们到外国去了，”小女匪说。

“那只乌鸦呢？”吉尔达问。

“哦，乌鸦死了，”她回答，“他那只家养的相好如今成了寡妇，腿上系了一小截黑毛线。她哭得非常伤心，可是再哭也没有用呀。对了，你跟我说说你是怎么把他找回来的。”

于是吉尔达和凯伊把事情的经过都告诉了她。

“咔嚓，咔嚓，咔嚓！终于一切都顺心了，”小女匪说。

她握住他们俩的手，说如果她经过那座城市，一定会去看望他们。然后她就骑马驶入了广阔的世界。吉尔达和凯伊手拉着手朝家走去。随着他们的脚步，春天变得越发美丽，叶儿翠绿，花儿娇艳。不一会儿，他们就认出了原来生活的那座城市，认出了高高的教堂尖顶，那里甜美的钟声正在敲出愉快的乐音，他们走进城门，找到了去奶奶家的路。他们上楼走进那个小房间，一切都跟以前一模一样。老爷钟“滴答，滴答”地走着，指针显示着当时的时间，可是当他们走进房门时，却发现他们都已经长大了，变成了男人和女人。屋顶上的玫瑰花开得正艳，在窗口探头探脑。还有那两把小椅子，是他们小时候坐过的。凯伊和吉尔达坐在各自的椅子里，握着对方的手，冰雪女王那寒冷、空旷而壮观的宫殿，像一场噩梦一样，从他们的记忆中消失了。奶奶坐在天赐的明亮阳光里，大声读着《圣经》里的话，“除非你们变成孩子，否则不得进入上帝的国度。”凯伊和吉尔达凝望着对方的眼睛，一下子明白了那首老歌的意思——

玫瑰花儿不再开，

我们会看到小基督。

他们俩坐在那里，已经长大成人，但内心还是孩子。这是夏天——温暖、美丽的夏天。

老头子做的事总是对的

我要给你们讲个故事，是我小时候听过的。每次想起这个故事，都觉得越来越有魅力。因为故事就跟许多人一样——越老越好。

我相信你肯定去过农村，见过一座很老的农舍，茅草屋顶，屋上长满青苔和小草。山墙的顶上有一个鹳鸟的窝——故事里没有鹳鸟可不行。房子的墙是歪的，窗户开得很低，而且只有一扇窗户能够打开。烤炉从墙上冒出来，像一个大大的球形把手。篱笆上方有一棵老树，在树枝下、篱笆脚下，有一方池塘，里面有几只鸭子在戏水。院子里还有一条狗，冲着每个墙角汪汪叫。就是这样一座农舍，位于一条乡村小路上，里面住着一对老夫妇——一个农民和他的妻子。他们的财产虽然不多，有一样东西却是不可缺少，那是一匹马，它靠路边的野草勉强过活。老农民骑着他的马进城，邻居们也经常问他借马，反过来为老夫妇干些活儿作为回报。过了一阵，老夫妇觉得不如把马卖掉，或者用它换一件对他们更有用的东西。可到底是什么东西呢？

“只有你最知道，老伴儿，”老婆说，“今天正好有集市，你就骑马进城，把马卖掉，或者换一件好东西。你不管怎么做，对我来说都合适，快骑马去赶集吧。”

她给老伴系上围巾，因为她比他自己系得好，可以打一个漂漂亮亮的双层蝴蝶结。她还用手掌把他的帽子捋了一圈又一圈，最后给了他一个吻。然后农民就出发了，骑着那匹要被卖掉或换东西的马。是的，老汉很清楚自己要做什么。太阳热辣辣地照着，天空看不见一朵云彩。路上尘土飞扬，因为许多人都去赶集，有的骑马，有的赶车，有的走路。烈日炎炎，没有地方可以乘凉。人群中有一个人慢慢走来，赶着一头母牛到集市去。这头母牛和任何一头母牛一样漂亮。

“我相信它肯定能产很好的牛奶，”农民对自己说，“用马换母牛，这笔交易倒很不错。喂！赶牛的，”他说，“听我说。我敢说一匹马比一头母牛要值钱，但我不在乎——对我来说母牛更有用。如果你愿意的话，我们交换吧。”

“我当然愿意。”那人说。

就这样，他们交换了。事情办妥，农民可以回家了，他要办的事情已经完成了。可是，他既然决定要去赶集，就打定主意去一趟，哪怕去看一眼也好。于是，他牵着母牛继续往城里走。他走得精神抖擞，不一会儿，就追上了一个赶着一头绵羊的人。这真是一头肥嘟嘟的好羊，背上长着漂亮的羊毛。

“我倒真想得到那个家伙，”农民对自己说，“我们的篱笆旁有足够的草给它吃，冬天，可以把它养在屋子里跟我们做伴。也许，养一头绵羊比养一头母牛好处更大呢。要不要换呢？”

绵羊的主人求之不得，交易很快就完成了。然后，我们的农民在马路上带着羊继续赶路。不一会儿，他追上了另一个人，是从田里走到路上来的，胳膊底下夹着一只大鹅。

“你怀里的鹅真肥啊！”农民说，“这么多羽毛，这么多脂肪，用一根绳子拴着它，或让它在我们家的池塘里戏水，肯定很不错。它对我的老伴儿会很有用的，老伴儿能从它身上得到各种好处。她不是经常说嘛，‘如果我们有一只鹅就好了！’现在机会来了，如果可能的话，我给她弄一只鹅回去。我们交换好吗？我用我的羊换你的鹅，还要谢谢你。”

那人没有丝毫反对，于是，他们成交了，我们的农民成了这只鹅的主人。这时，他已经快要走到城里了。路上的人越来越多，人和牲口浩浩荡荡。牲口走到了小路上、篱笆旁。到了收费站，它们甚至走进了收费官的土豆田里。那里有一只母鸡大摇大摆地走着，腿上拴着一根绳子，因为担心它看到人群会受到惊吓，逃之夭夭。母鸡尾巴上的羽毛很短，它会同时眨巴两只眼睛，而且“咕咕，咕咕”叫的时候显得特别机灵。母鸡这么叫时在想什么呢？我可没法告诉你。可是我们的农民一看见它，就想，“哎呀，我一辈子没见过这么漂亮的母鸡。要我看，它比我们教区牧师的那只抱窝鸡还好呢。我真想得到这只母鸡。母鸡总能捡起地上撒的谷粒，而且总能管住自己。我想，如果我能用我的鹅换它，倒是一笔不错的交易。我们交换好吗？”他问收费官。

“交换，”那人回答，“好吧，这倒不是一件坏事。”

于是他们就交换了——收费站的收费官留下了鹅，农民抱走了母鸡。他在去赶集的路上真是做了不少事，现在又热又累。他想吃点东西，再喝一杯麦芽酒给自己提提神，就转身朝一家酒店走去。他正要进门，马夫走了出来，他们在门口碰上了。马夫手里拎着一个麻袋。“那麻袋里是什么？”农民问。

“烂苹果，”马夫回答，“满满一大袋烂苹果，可以用来喂猪。”

“哎呀，那多浪费啊，”他回答，“我倒愿意把它们拿回家给我的老伴儿。去年，草地旁的那棵老苹果树只结了一个苹果，我们把它放在碗柜里，一直到它萎缩、腐烂。我的老伴儿说，苹果是个宝贝，这里她能看到一大堆宝贝呢——满满一麻袋。我想把它们拿给她看看。”

“你用什么换我这一麻袋苹果呢？”马夫问。

“用什么？啊，我用我的母鸡跟你换。”

他放弃了母鸡，得到了那些苹果，然后拎着苹果进了酒店。他把麻袋仔细地靠在炉边，走到桌旁。可是炉子太热了，他没有想到这点。酒店里客人很多——马贩子，牛倌，还有两个英国人。英国人非常有钱，口袋里鼓鼓囊囊，好像快要撑破了似的。他们还很喜欢打赌。你听，“嘶嘶，嘶嘶。”炉子旁边那是什么？苹果开始烤焦了。“那是什么？”一个英国人问。

“哎呀，你们知道吗”——我们的农民说。于是，他把事情原原本本地告诉了他们，从最开始的那匹马，后来换成了母牛，再一路换下去，最后换到了那些苹果。

“嘿，等你回家后，看你老伴儿怎么收拾你。”一个英国人说。“肯定闹得天翻地覆。”

“什么？怎么收拾？”农民说。“哎呀，她会给我一个吻，然后说，‘老头子做的事总是对的。’”

“我们打个赌吧，”两个英国人说，“我们跟你赌一堆金币，整整一英担英担是重量单位，1英担等于112磅，也就是50802千克。的一百磅金币。”

“不用，一斗就够了，”农民回答，“我只能拿一斗苹果作赌注，再加上我自己和我老伴儿，那应该差不多了吧？”

“好！一言为定！”打赌的事就这么定了。

这时，老板的马车开到门口，两个英国人和农民上了车。马车走了不久，就到了农民的茅草屋前，停了下来。“晚上好，老婆子。”“晚上好，老头子。”“我换到东西了。”

“啊，好啊，你很清楚自己在做什么。”老妇人说。她拥抱了老头子，没有理会那两个陌生人，也没有留意那个麻袋。

“我用马换了一头母牛。”

“感谢上帝，”老妇人说，“这下我们就有足够的牛奶了，桌上还会有黄油和奶酪。多么划算的一笔交易。”

“是啊，可是我又用牛换了一只羊。”

“哎呀，更好了！”妻子说。“你总是想得这么周到，我们的草地正够养一只羊。羊奶和奶酪，羊毛衫和羊毛袜！母牛可带不来这些，牛毛只会脱落。你真是想得太周到了！”

“可是我又拿羊换了一只鹅。”

“那我们今年就能吃上烤鹅了。我亲爱的老头子，你总会想办法让我高兴。这太好了。我们就用绳子拴着鹅的腿，让它多走动走动，这样在烤它之前它还会长得更胖一些。”

“可是我又拿鹅换了一只母鸡。”

“一只母鸡！哎呀，换得好，换得好！”老婆子说，“母鸡会下蛋，还会孵蛋，我们就会有小鸡仔了。过不了多久，就会有一个养鸡场了。哦，这正是我想要的啊。”

“是啊，可是我又拿母鸡换了一麻袋烂苹果。”

“什么！我真的要为这个亲你一下了！”妻子大声说道。“我亲爱的好丈夫，你听我告诉你吧。你知道吗，今天早晨你刚离开，我就开始琢磨，今天晚饭给你吃点什么好东西呢？我想到了煎鸡蛋和咸肉，再加香草。鸡蛋和咸肉我有，缺的是香草。我就去了小学校长家。我知道他们有很多香草，可是校长太太真小气，虽然笑起来倒蛮可爱。我请求她借我一把香草。‘借！’她大声说，‘我没什么可借的，我的园子里什么都没长，连一只烂苹果都没有。我连一只烂苹果都没法借给你，我亲爱的。’结果现在呢，我可以借给她十个，或者满满一麻袋，这让我太高兴了，想起来就忍不住要笑。”说到这里，她给了老头子一个热吻。

“呵，我喜欢这一幕，”两个英国人都说，“一直在走下坡路，但一直开开心心，这一幕值得一看，钱没白花。”他们付给农民一英担的金币。农民不管做了什么，都没有挨骂，反而得到亲吻。

是的，如果妻子认为并坚信自己的丈夫最有头脑，做的事情总是对的，那么便总会得到最好的报偿。

这是我小时候听到的一个故事，现在你也听到了，你知道了“老头子做的事总是对的”。

打火匣

士兵大步走在马路上：“左，右——左，右。”他扛着背包，挎着宝剑。他参加了战争，现在返回家乡。

走着走着，他在路上遇见一个面目狰狞的老巫婆。老巫婆的下嘴唇一直耷拉到胸口，她停下脚步说道，“晚上好，士兵。你的背包很大，宝剑真漂亮，你是个真正的士兵。你应该想有多少钱就有多少钱。”

“谢谢你，老巫婆，”士兵说。

“你看见那棵大树了吗？”老巫婆说，指着他们身边的一棵树。“它里面很空，你必须爬到顶上，然后看见一个树洞，从树洞一直爬下去，就会到达树里很深的地方。我用绳子绑住你的身体，你一喊我，我就把你再拖上来。”

“爬到了树里面，我做什么呢？”士兵问。

“拿钱，”老巫婆回答。“你必须知道，你从树里降到地面，会发现一个大厅，有三百盏灯照着。然后你会看见三扇门，它们很容易打开，钥匙就插在锁眼里。走进三扇门通向的第一个房间，你会看见地板中央放着一个大箱子，箱子上蹲着一只狗，它的眼睛像茶杯那样大。但是你一点儿也不用害怕。我把我的蓝格子围裙给你，你把它铺在地上，勇敢地把那只狗抓起来放在围裙上。这样你就可以打开箱子，愿意拿多少钱就拿多少钱，但里面只有铜币。如果你想要银币，就必须走进第二个房间。在那里你会发现另一只狗，它的眼睛像风车那样大。但是你用不着害怕。把它放在我的围裙上，想拿多少钱就拿多少钱。不过，如果你最喜欢的是金子，那就进入第三个房间，里面有一个装满金币的箱子。这个箱子上的狗非常可怕，眼睛像宝塔那样大，你不必在意它。也只要把它放在我的围裙上，它就不会伤害你，你就可以打开箱子，想拿多少金子就拿多少。”

“这个故事倒不坏，”士兵说，“那么我给你什么呢，你这个老巫婆？你肯定不会平白无故地告诉我这些。”

“是的，”巫婆说，“但是我一分钱也不要。不过你必须把一个旧的打火匣给我拿上来，那是我奶奶最后一次钻进树洞时落在那里的。”

“很好，我答应你。现在把绳子绑在我身上吧。”

“给你，”老巫婆回答，“这是我的蓝格子围裙。”

绳子刚一绑好，士兵就爬到树梢，顺着树洞钻到下面的地上。正像老巫婆说的那样，他发现这里有一个大厅，点着好几百盏灯。他打开第一个房间的门。“啊！”果然蹲着那只狗，眼睛像茶杯那样大，恶狠狠地瞪着他。

“你是个漂亮的家伙。”士兵说着，把狗抓起来放在巫婆的围裙上，然后从箱子里大把大把地抓出钱币，塞进口袋，一直到塞不下为止。他盖上箱子，把狗重新放在上面，又走进第二个房间。果然，眼睛像风车那样大的狗蹲在那里。

“你最好不要这样看着我，”士兵说，“你的眼睛会流眼泪的。”说着，他把这只狗也抱到围裙上，打开了箱子。当他看见箱子里有那么多银币时，立刻把刚才拿的铜币统统扔掉，往口袋和背包里装满了银币。

然后他走进第三个房间，那只狗确实非常吓人。它的眼睛真的像宝塔那样大，它们像车轮一样，在脑袋上滴溜溜地转动。

“早上好。”士兵说，碰碰帽子敬了个礼，他活到这么大从没见过这样的狗。可是再仔细打量打量，觉得这只狗还是很懂礼貌的，他把狗抱到地上，打开箱子。老天爷啊，里面有这么多金子！足够买下甜品店老板娘所有的棒棒糖，买下世界上所有的小锡兵、鞭子和木马，甚至买下整个小镇。真的，金子确实很多很多。士兵把刚才拿的银币统统扔掉，在口袋和背包里装满了金子。不仅是口袋和背包，就连帽子和靴子也没放过，最后他简直连路也走不动了。

他现在非常有钱了。于是他把狗重新抱到箱子上，关上门，在树洞里大声朝上喊道，“快把我拉出去吧，你这个老巫婆。”

“打火匣你拿了吗？”巫婆问。

“没有。我差点儿把它给忘了。”说着，他返回去取打火匣，然后老巫婆把他拽出了树洞。士兵又站在马路上了，他的口袋里、背包里、帽子和靴子里都装满了金子。

“你要这个打火匣做什么用？”士兵问。

“跟你没关系，”老巫婆回答，“你拿到了钱，快把打火匣给我。”

“你听好了，”士兵说，“如果你不告诉我要打火匣做什么用，我就拔出宝剑砍掉你的脑袋。”

“我不说，”老巫婆说。

士兵立刻砍掉了她的脑袋，老巫婆倒在地上死了。士兵把所有的钱都放在巫婆的围裙里，打成一个包裹，扛在背上，又把打火匣装进口袋，去了最近的城镇。这是一个很漂亮的小镇，他住进最好的旅馆，买来他最喜欢吃的美味佳肴，因为他现在富了，有的是钱。

他还没有来得及买新靴子，给他擦靴子的仆人觉得它们太破旧了，不是这样一个富有的绅士应该穿的。第二天，他就买了几件上好的衣服和体面的靴子，于是，我们的士兵很快就成为出名的高雅绅士，人们纷纷来拜访他，告诉他镇上有哪些奇观可以欣赏，还跟他说了国王那位美丽公主的事情。

“我在哪里能见到她？”士兵问。

“根本不可能见到她，”他们说，“她住在一座很大的青铜城堡里，周围都是高墙和宝塔。只有国王本人可以进进出出，因为有预言说公主会嫁给一个普通的士兵，国王一想到这样的联姻就受不了。”

“我倒是很想见见她。”士兵想，可是他无计可施。不过他过得非常愉快，到戏院看戏，在国王的花园里骑马，把很多的钱分给穷人，他真是个好心肠的人。他还记得当年穷得叮当响的滋味。现在他有钱了，穿着华丽的衣服，结交了很多朋友，他们都宣称他是个体面人，是个真正的绅士，这些都给了他极大的满足。可是，他的钱不可能永远花不完，他每天开销很大，却没有一个子儿的进项，最后，他发现口袋里只剩下两个先令。他只好离开豪华的房间，住在屋顶下的一个小阁楼里，并且只好自己擦靴子，用一根粗针把破靴子缝好。朋友们都不来看他了，因为要爬那么多层楼梯。在一个昏暗的傍晚，他连买蜡烛的钱也没有了。突然，他想起了打火匣里插着一根蜡烛，就是老巫婆帮他钻进老树洞里拿到的那个打火匣。

他找出打火匣，刚用燧石在打火镰上擦出几粒火星，门突然打开，他在树洞里看见的那只眼睛像茶杯那样大的狗站在他面前，说道，“主人，您有何吩咐？”

“嗬。”士兵说，“这可是个讨人喜欢的打火匣，但愿它能满足我的心愿。”

“给我弄些钱来。”士兵对狗说。

狗出去了，一会儿工夫就回来了，嘴里叼着一大袋的铜币。在这之后，士兵很快就发现了打火匣的价值。如果他擦一下火石，就会出现蹲在铜币箱子上的狗；如果擦两下，就会出现银币箱子上的狗；如果擦三下，就会出现那只眼睛像宝塔那样大的、看守金子的狗。士兵现在又有钱了。他回到了豪华的房间，又穿上了昂贵华丽的衣服，朋友们一下子又认识他了，像以前一样争着讨好他。

过了一阵，他想，竟然谁也不能看一眼公主，这件事很奇怪。“每个人都说她非常美丽，”他暗自想道，“如果她被关在青铜城堡里，周围有这么多高塔，她再美丽又有什么用呢？我能不能想办法看看她呢？慢着！我的打火匣呢？”他擦了一下火石，一眨眼间，眼睛像茶杯那样大的狗就站在他面前了。

“现在是半夜三更，”士兵说，“但是我特别想看到公主，哪怕只看一眼。”

狗立刻消失了，没等士兵转过头来，它就驮着公主回来了。公主躺在狗的背上睡得正香，看上去美丽极了，每个人看见她都会知道她是一位真正的公主。我们的士兵是一位响当当的士兵，他忍不住亲吻了公主。然后狗驮着公主跑了回去。第二天早晨，公主跟国王和王后一起吃早饭时，跟他们说她夜里做了一个奇怪的梦，梦见一只狗和一个士兵，她骑在狗的背上，士兵亲吻了她。

“这真是一个美丽的梦，”王后说。第二天夜里，一位年迈的宫女被派去守在公主的床边，弄清这一切真的是梦，还是另有隐情。

士兵非常渴望再次见到公主，于是夜里又打发狗去把公主带来，他叫狗驮着公主以最快的速度奔跑。可是老宫女穿上了防水靴，在后面拼命追赶，发现狗把公主驮到了一座大房子里。宫女想，如果用粉笔在门上画一个大大的十字，就能帮助她记住这个地方。然后她就回去睡觉了，不一会儿，狗把公主驮了回来。狗看到士兵住的房门上画着一个十字，就拿起一根粉笔，在镇子里所有的门上都画了十字，这样老宫女就弄不清到底是哪扇门了。

第二天一早，国王和王后带着这位宫女和所有侍臣，来看看公主到底去了哪里。

“就是这里。”国王说，他们来到第一个画十字的门前。

“不，我亲爱的丈夫，肯定是那个门。”王后说，指着第二个门，那上面也画着十字。

“这里也有，那里也有！”他们都喊了起来。因为四面八方的门上都画着十字。

这样一来，他们认为继续搜寻不会有什么结果。但是王后是个非常聪明的女人。她会做的可不仅仅是乘马车。她拿出她的那把金子做的大剪刀，把一块丝绸剪成小方块，做了一个漂亮的小口袋。她往口袋里装满荞麦粉，挂在公主的脖子上。然后她在口袋上剪了一个小洞，这样，公主不管走到哪里，面粉都会洒在地上。夜里，那只狗又来了，把公主驮在背上，跑回去见士兵。士兵非常爱公主，希望自己是一位王子，那样就能娶公主为妻了。狗没有注意到口袋里的面粉从城堡墙边一路洒到了士兵的住所，当它驮着公主爬上窗户时，面粉还洒到了窗台上。到了早晨，国王和王后就知道他们的女儿去了哪儿，士兵被抓起来关进了牢里。哦，他坐在那里，多么黑暗，多么悲惨，人们对他说，“明天你就要被绞死了。”这可不是一个令人愉快的消息，而且，士兵的打火匣留在房间里了。早晨，他隔着小窗户的铁栏杆，看见人们匆匆往小镇外面赶，准备去看他被处死。他听见鼓点在敲响，看见士兵开步走。每个人都跑出来看热闹。鞋匠的儿子系着皮围裙，穿着拖鞋，他跑得太快了，一只拖鞋飞出去，撞在牢房的墙上，士兵正坐在里面隔着铁栏杆往外望呢。“喂，鞋匠的儿子，你用不着这样慌张，”士兵对他喊道，“我不到场，没有什么可看的。不过，如果你跑到我住的房子里，把我的打火匣拿来，你会得到四个先令，但你必须拿出你最快的速度。”

鞋匠的儿子听说能拿到四个先令，非常高兴，他跑得飞快，把打火匣拿来，交给了士兵。现在让我们看看发生了什么事吧。小镇外面竖起了一个绞刑架，周围站着许多士兵和几千名群众。国王和王后坐在法官和所有顾问大臣的对面。士兵已经站在绞刑架的梯子上了，他们正要把绳子套在他的脖子上时，他说，在处死可怜的犯人之前，经常会满足他一个没有恶意的要求。他非常希望能抽一口烟，这将是他在世界上抽的最后一口烟了。国王不能拒绝这样的请求，于是士兵拿出他的打火匣，擦了一下，两下，三下——眨眼之间，三只狗全出现了——眼睛像茶杯那样大的，眼睛像风车那样大的，还有第三只，眼睛像宝塔那样大的。“快救救我吧，别让我被绞死。”士兵大声说道。

三只狗立刻朝法官和所有的顾问们扑去。叼住一个人的腿，咬住另一个人的鼻子，把他们抛到好几米的高空，掉在地上，摔得七零八落。

“不要碰我，”国王说，但是最大的那只狗叼住了他和王后，把他们跟别人一样抛了出去。那些士兵和百姓都害怕了，喊道，“好心的士兵啊，你做我们的国王吧，你娶了美丽的公主吧。”

于是，他们让士兵坐进国王的马车，三只狗跑在前面，叫着“乌拉！”小男孩们用手指打着响哨，士兵们持枪致敬。公主离开了青铜城堡，成了王后，她感到非常高兴。婚礼的庆典持续了整整一个星期，三只狗坐在桌旁，它们的眼睛都瞪得大大的。

会飞的箱子

从前有一个商人，特别有钱，能用金子铺满整条马路，还能接着再铺满一条小巷。可是他没有这么做，他知道金钱的价值，不会这样胡乱挥霍。他非常精明，花出去的每个先令都能给他赚回一个金币。他就这样不停地赚钱，直到死去。他的儿子继承了他的财富，生活得非常开心。他每天晚上去参加化装舞会，拿五块钱的钞票做风筝，把金块当成石头扔进大海，还用金块作出公鸭和母鸭。这样一来，他很快就把钱都花光了，最后只剩下了一双拖鞋、一件旧睡衣和四个先令。这时候朋友们都抛弃了他，不肯跟他一起走在大街上。只有一位朋友心肠很好，送给他一只旧箱子，还有一封短信：“收拾行装！”“是的，”他说，“说一句‘收拾行装’完全没错。”可是他没有什么可收拾的，就自己钻进了箱子。这是一只非常奇妙的箱子。只要在锁上按一下，箱子就会飞起来。他盖上盖子，在锁上按了一下，箱子就飞上了烟囱，飞入了云霄，而商人的儿子就坐在箱子里。每次箱子底部发出开裂的声音，他都吓得要命，如果箱子散了架，他会翻着筋斗落到树上，那就太可怕了。还好，他在箱子里平平安安飞到了土耳其。他把箱子藏在树林里一些干枯的树叶下，走进了小镇。他这么做一点问题也没有，土耳其人一向穿着睡衣和拖鞋走来走去，就像他一样。他碰到一个带小孩子的保姆，“喂，你这个土耳其保姆，”他大声说，“小镇附近是座什么城堡？窗户都那么高。”

“国王的女儿住在那里，”保姆回答，“有预言说，她会为一个爱人伤心憔悴，所以不允许任何人去看她，除非有国王和王后在场。”

“谢谢你。”商人的儿子说。他返回树林，坐进箱子里，飞到城堡顶上，从窗户钻进了公主的房间。公主躺在沙发上睡着了，她是那么美丽，商人的儿子忍不住亲吻了她。公主醒来了，感到非常害怕。商人的儿子告诉她，自己是一位土耳其天使，从空中下来看望她，公主听了非常高兴。他在公主身边坐下，跟公主交谈。他说公主的眼睛像美丽而幽深的湖水，思想在里面像美人鱼一样游来游去，他说公主的额头是积雪覆盖的山峰，有许多风景如画的辉煌的厅堂。然后，他又跟公主讲那只鹳，从河里带来一些美丽的孩子。这些故事都非常好听。他问公主愿不愿意嫁给他，公主立刻就同意了。

“但是你必须星期六来，”公主说，“那时候国王和王后陪我一起喝茶。他们发现我要嫁给一个土耳其天使，肯定会感到非常骄傲。但是你必须想出几个特别有趣的故事讲给他们听，我爸爸妈妈喜欢听故事超过一切。我妈妈喜欢深刻的、有道德寓意的，我爸爸喜欢滑稽的、能逗他发笑的。”

“很好，”他回答，“那我带给你的聘礼就是一个故事。”于是他们就分别了。公主送给他一把宝剑，上面钉满了金币，他可以拿去用。

商人的儿子飞到小镇，买了一件新的睡衣，之后返回树林，构思一个故事，为星期六做好准备，这可不是一件容易的事。当他星期六要去见公主的时候，故事终于编好了。国王和王后以及所有的王公大臣，都来陪公主喝茶，商人的儿子受到了极大的款待。

“您能给我们讲一个故事吗？”王后说，“讲一个有学问、有教育意义的。”

“对，再有一点可笑的东西。”国王说。

“没问题。”商人的儿子说，叫他们仔细听着，他立刻就开始讲故事了。“从前有一束火柴，对他们高贵的血统感到非常骄傲。是一棵大松树做成了这些火柴，它曾经是树林里的一棵参天老树。现在火柴们躺在火绒箱和一个旧铁锅中间，谈论着他们的青春岁月。‘啊！那时候我们生长在绿色的枝头，像树枝一样翠绿。每个清晨，每个傍晚，我们都啜饮着钻石般的露珠。太阳升起的时候，我们感受到温暖的阳光，小鸟儿唱着歌儿给我们讲故事。我们知道自己很富有，别的树只有夏天才身着绿装，我们家族却一年四季都打扮成绿色。可是，伐木工来了，像一场巨大的革命，我们家族被斧头砍倒在地。树梢在一艘很漂亮的船上谋得了主桅杆的位置，可以随心所欲地环游世界。家族的其他枝桠被送到了不同的地方，我们现在的工作就是为普通人点火。就这样，我们这样高贵的出身，却沦落到了厨房里。’

“‘我的命运完全不同，’站在火柴旁边的铁锅说，‘从我进入世界的第一刻起，我就习惯于烹煮和擦洗。家里需要什么结实或有用的东西，我总是第一个挺身而出。我唯一的快乐就是饭后被擦洗得光亮一新，呆在自己的位置上，跟我的邻居聊点儿有思想的话题。我们大家一起住在这个房间里，只有水桶偶尔被拎到院子里。我们从购物篮那儿听到一些新闻，他有时告诉我们关于百姓和政府的非常令人难过的事情。是的，有一天一只旧锅被吓坏了，掉在地上，摔成了碎片。我可以告诉你，他是个自由主义者。’

“‘你说得太多了，’火绒箱说，钢条一下下地擦打火石，直到迸出火星，他大声喊道，‘我们需要一个愉快的夜晚，不是吗？’

“‘是的，当然是的，’火柴们说，‘我们谈谈那些出身最高贵的人吧。’

“‘不，我不想总是谈论我们的身份，’铁锅说，‘让我们想出点别的消遣吧。我先开始。谈谈发生在我们身上的事情。那很容易，也很有趣。在波罗的海，靠近丹麦海岸的地方——’

“‘多么漂亮的开场白啊！’盘子们说。‘我们肯定都喜欢这个故事。’

“‘好吧。我年轻的时候，生活在一个平静的家庭，家具是抛过光的，地板是擦洗过的，每隔两个星期就换上干净的窗帘。’

“‘你讲故事的方式多么有趣啊，’扫帚说，‘很容易看出来，你经常呆在女人圈里，你讲的故事里透着一种很纯洁的东西。’

“‘确实如此。’水桶说，他开心地跳了一下，把一些水溅在地板上。

“盘子们高兴地发出嗒嗒的碰撞声，扫帚从垃圾箱里拿出几棵绿色的欧芹，戴在铁锅头上，他知道这会惹得别人不高兴。他想，‘我今天给他戴花冠，他明天就会给我戴花冠。’

“‘好了，我们跳舞吧。’火钳说。于是他卖力地跳舞，把一条腿举到空中。墙角的椅垫看见了，爆发出一阵大笑。

“‘我可以得到花冠吗？’火钳说，扫帚就又找了个花环给火钳戴上。

“‘他们毕竟只是普通人。’火柴们想。这时茶缸要求唱歌，但说她感冒了，必须有水蒸气才能唱。大家认为这是虚张声势，其实茶缸并不愿意唱歌，除非在客厅里，在坐着大人物的桌子上。

“一支旧羽毛笔坐在窗台上，女仆一般用他来写字。这支笔没有什么奇妙之处，只是在墨水里蘸得太深了，但他为此感到很得意。

“‘如果茶缸不唱歌，’羽毛笔说，‘就随她的便吧。笼子里有一只夜莺会唱歌。当然啦，她没有受过什么教育，但今天晚上我们不需要谈到这些。’

“‘我觉得，’说话的是茶壶，他是厨房的歌唱家，是茶缸的同母异父兄弟，‘在这里听一只富裕的外国鸟儿唱歌，很不合适。这是爱国吗？让购物篮评判什么是对的。’

“‘我当然很生气，’篮子说，‘由衷地生气，超出你们每个人的想象。我们是在好好度过这个夜晚吗？让家里保持良好的秩序不是更好吗？如果每个人都呆在自己的位置上，我就领着你们做个游戏。那就完全是另一回事了。’

“‘我们演戏吧。’他们都说。就在这时，女仆走了进来。顿时他们都安静下来，全都一动不动。与此同时，没有一个锅子不认为自己很了不起，自己要做什么全不在话下。

“‘是啊，如果我们愿意，’他们个个都这么想，‘可以过一个非常愉快的夜晚。’

“女仆拿起火柴擦着。天哪，他们喷出了多么耀眼的火苗！

“‘这下，’火柴们想，‘大家都能看到我们才是第一。我们的光芒多么耀眼，多么明亮！’话还没说完，亮光就熄灭了。

“多么好的故事，”王后说，“我觉得我好像真的在厨房里，能看见那些火柴。是的，您可以娶我们的女儿。”

“没问题，”国王说，“你可以娶我们的女儿。”国王对商人的儿子说“你”，是准备把他当成家里人了。婚礼的日子定下来了，在举行婚礼的前一天晚上，整个城镇灯火通明。蛋糕和糖果在人群中抛洒。街上的小男孩踮着脚尖，大声喊着“乌拉”，用手指打着响哨。总之，场面非常壮观。

“我要再给他们一个惊喜，”商人的儿子说。于是他去买了礼花和鞭炮，买了他能想到的各种烟花爆竹，装在他的箱子里，一起飞到空中。飞起来的时候它们全都嗖嗖嗖，啪啪啪！土耳其人看到空中这样奇妙的景象，全都高高跳起，拖鞋飞到了耳朵边。从这以后，要相信公主即将嫁给一个土耳其天使就很容易了。

放完烟花爆竹，商人的儿子乘着会飞的箱子降落到树林，他想，“我现在回到镇上，听听他们认为这份款待怎么样。”他想要知道这点也是很自然的。果然，人们说了各种稀奇古怪的话！他问的每一个人都有一套不同的说法，不过都认为那景象非常美丽。

“我亲眼看见了那个土耳其天使，”一个人说，“他的眼睛像闪烁的星星，脑袋像泛着泡沫的水。”

“他披着一件火斗篷在飞，”另一个人喊道，“一些可爱的小天使从褶皱间朝外张望。”

商人的儿子听到了关于自己的许多好话，还听说第二天他就要结婚。然后，他返回树林，准备钻进他的箱子里。箱子不见了！烟花爆竹留下了一点火星，把箱子点着，烧成了灰烬！商人的儿子再也飞不起来，也不能去见他的新娘了。新娘站在城堡顶上等了他一整天，很可能现在还在那里等着。商人的儿子在世界各地流浪，讲童话故事，但它们都没有他讲的那个关于火柴的故事有趣。

The Fir Tree

Deep in the forest there stood such a pretty little fir tree. It grew in a nice spot；the sun could reach it，there was fresh air in abundance，and all around it were many taller comrades，firs as well as pines. But the little fir tree was in a great hurry to grow up. It paid no attention to the warm sunshine or the fresh air，and it took no notice of the farmers'children who went about chattering，and picking strawberries or raspberries. Often they would sit down by the little tree，with whole jugfuls of raspberries，or holding strawberries threaded on long straws，and exclaim，“Isn't that baby tree the sweetest thing you ever saw！”But the fir tree did not like to hear that at all.

The next year it had added a long section to its growth，and the following year one still longer. You can tell a fir tree's age by the number of new sections it has.

“Oh，I wish I were as tall as the others！”sighed the little tree. “Then I could spread my branches far and wide，and from my top see what the world looks like. The birds would build their nests in my branches，and when the wind was blowing，I should be able to nod with as much dignity as the others.”

It found no pleasure in the sunshine，nor in the birds，nor in the rosy clouds that went sailing over it morning and evening.

In winter，when the ground was covered with glistening white snow，a hare would often come hopping along，and jump right over it. How annoying that was！But two winters passed by，and in the third it was so tall that the hare was obliged to run round it.

“Oh，if I could but grow and grow，become tall and old！That's the only thing worth living for，”thought the tree.

In the autumn the woodcutters would come and fell a few of the tallest trees；this happened every year，and the young fir，which was now quite grown up，trembled with fear when it saw the splendid big trees fall to the ground with a crash. Their branches were lopped off so that they looked all naked and thin；one could hardly recognize them. They were loaded on to timber-wagons，and horses dragged them away out of the forest.

Where were they going？What would happen to them？

In the spring，when the swallows and the stork arrived，the tree asked them，“Do you know where the other trees were taken？Did you meet them？”

The swallows knew nothing about it，but the stork looked thoughtful，nodded his head，and said，“Yes，I think I did meet them. Coming away from Egypt，I saw many new ships with splendid new masts. I daresay those were the trees you mean；they had a smell of fir about them. They wanted to be remembered to you；they looked grand，very grand.”

“If only I too were big enough to fly over the sea！Tell me，what is this sea really，and what does it look like？”

“That would take too long to explain，”said the stork，and he walked away.

“Enjoy your youth！Rejoice in your healthy growth，and in the young life that is within you！”said the sunbeams.

And the wind kissed the tree，and the dew wept tears over it，but the fir tree did not understand.

With the coming of Christmas，quite a number of very young firs were chopped down，some of them neither so tall nor so old as our tree，which was still restless and impatient to get away. These young firs，just the most beautiful ones，were not stripped of their branches-they were loaded on to timber-wagons and horses dragged them away out of the forest.

“Where are they going？”asked the fir tree.“They are no taller than I am，in fact one of them was much smaller—why were they allowed to keep all their branches？Where are they going？”

“We know！We know！”chirped the sparrows.“We've peeped in at the windows down in the town. We know where they're going to. The greatest pomp and splendor imaginable awaits them there！We've peeped in at the windows，and we've seen them planted in the middle of a nice warm room，and decorated with the most beautiful things—gilded apples，gingerbread，toys，and many hundreds of bright candles！”

“And then？”asked the fir tree，quivering through all its branches.“And then？What happens then？”

“We haven't seen anything more than that，but it was too wonderful for words！”

“Was I born for such a glorious destiny，I wonder？”exclaimed the tree，trembling with delight.“That is even better than crossing the sea. I'm sick with longing. If it were only Christmas now！I'm as tall and well-grown as those trees which were taken away last year. Oh，if I were only loaded on to the wagon！Oh，that I were in that warm room in the midst of so much pomp and splendor！And then—？Then something still better，still more beautiful will happen，or why should they take such trouble to decorate me？Something still greater，still more splendid is bound to happen—but what？Oh，how I ache，how I yearn！I don't know myself what is wrong with me.”

“Rejoice in me，”said both the air and the sunshine.“Rejoice in your fresh youth out here in the open！”

But it did hot rejoice at all. It grew and grew；winter and summer it stood there，ever green，dark green. The people who looked at it said，“What a beautiful tree！”And the following Christmas it was the first to be felled. The ax struck deep into its marrow，and with a profound sigh the tree fell to the ground. It suffered pain，it felt faint，and could not think of any happiness，for it was sad at parting from its home，from the place where it had grown up；it knew that it would never again see its dear old friends，the little bushes and flowers round about—perhaps not even the birds. It was anything but pleasant to say good-by.

The tree did not recover until it found itself unloaded in a yard with other firs and heard a man say，“This one's a beauty. This is the one we want.”

Then two servants in smart livery arrived，and carried the fir tree into a beautiful great reception room. All round the walls hung portraits，and beside the tiled stove stood big Chinese jars with lions on their covers. There were rocking chairs，silk-covered sofas，large tables littered with picture books，and toys worth loads and loads of money—at least so the children said.

And the fir tree was planted in a big tub filled with sand；but no one could see it was a tub，for it was covered with green cloth，and stood on a great many-colored carpet. How the tree trembled！What was going to happen？Men servants and young ladies began to decorate it. On the branches they hung little nets cut out of colored paper，every net filled with sweets；gilded apples and walnuts hung down as if they grew there，and more than a hundred red，blue，and white candles were fastened to the branches. Dolls that looked exactly like real live children—the tree had never seen anything of the sort before—floated among the green branches，and up at the top was fixed a large star of gold tinsel；it was magnificent beyond words！

“Tonight，”they all said，“tonight it will be lit up. ”

“Oh！”thought the tree. “If only it were already night！If only the candles were already lit！And later—what will happen then？Will trees from the forest come and look at me？Will the sparrows peep in at the windows？Shall I grow roots here and keep my decorations winter and summer？”

How little it knew！All those longings had brought on a very bad barkache—and it is just as bad for a tree to have a barkache as it is for us to have a headache.

At last the candles were lighted. What a blaze of splendor！The tree trembled so much in all its branches that one of the candles set fire to a twig—and what a scorching pain that was！

“Oh，dear！”cried the young ladies，and they quickly put out the fire. Now the tree did not even dare to quiver—it was awful！It was so afraid of losing some of its decorations，and felt quite overwhelmed with all that splendorAnd now at last the folding doors were flung open and dozens of noisy children came tumbling in as if they were going to upset the whole tree. The older people followed more calmly behind. The little ones stood quite speechless，but only for a minute—then they shrieked again with excitement，danced joyfully round it，and took down one present after another.

“What are they doing？”thought the tree. “What is going to happen？”The candles burnt right down to the branches and were put out as fast as they were burnt；then the children were allowed to plunder the tree. They rushed at it with such force that all the branches creaked；if it had not been fastened to the ceiling by the string and the gold star，it would have toppled over. The children danced round and round with their beautiful toys. No one looked at the tree except the old nurse who was peering about among the branches to see if by any chance a fig or an apple had not been forgotten.

“A story！A story！”demanded the children，pulling a little fat man towards the tree，and he sat down just beneath it.“Here we are in the green wood，”he said，“and it will do the tree a lot of good to listen. But I shall only tell one story. Would you like the one about Hey-diddle-diddle，or the one about Humpty-dumpty who fell down the stairs，and yet ascended the throne and married the Princess？”

“Hey-diddle-diddle，”cried some of them；“Humpty-dumpty，”cried others；and there was a great deal of shrieking and shouting. Only the fir tree stood quite silent，and thought，“Am I not to be in this at all？Am I not to take part in anything？”But it had been in the evening's fun. It had played its part.

So the little fat man told about Humpty-dumpty who fell down the stairs and yet ascended the throne and married the Princess. And the children clapped their hands，shouting，“Another！another！”for they wanted the story of Hey-diddle-diddle too，but they had to be content with Humpty-dumpty.

The fir tree stood quite silent and thoughtful—never had the birds in the forest told such a story as that. “Humpty-dumpty fell down the stairs and yet married the Princess. Well！Well！that's the way things happen in the world，”thought the fir tree，believing it must all have been true，because such a nice man had told the story. “Well，who knows？I，too，may fall downstairs and win my Princess！”And it looked forward to being decorated again the next day with candles and toys，tinsel and fruit.

“Tomorrow I shall not tremble，”it thought. “I shall rejoice in all my splendor. Tomorrow I shall hear the story of Humpty-dumpty again，and perhaps the one about Hey-diddle-diddle too. ”And it remained quiet and thoughtful all night.

In the morning the man came in with one of the servants.

“Now the festivities are going to begin again，”thought the tree. But they dragged it out of the room，up the stairs to the attic，and there they put it in a dark corner where no daylight penetrated. “What does this mean？”thought the tree. “What am I to do in this place？What am I to hear？”And it leant against the wall，lost in deep thought It had time enough，for days and nights went by，and nobody came up. When at last someone did come，it was only to move some big boxes into the corner. The tree was so well hidden away that one might think it had been quite forgotten.

“It's winter outside now，”thought the tree. “The ground is hard and covered with snow；I cannot be planted now，and that is probably why I am to be sheltered here until the springtime. How considerate of them！How kind people are！I only wish it weren't so dark here and so terribly lonely—not even a little hare！After all，it was nice in the forest when the snow covered the ground，and the hare sped by—yes，even when it jumped over me it was fun，but I didn't think so then. This loneliness is perfectly unbearable！”

“’Eak！’Eak！”squeaked a little mouse just then，running out on the floor，and followed by another one. They sniffed at the fir tree，slipping in and out among the branches.

“It's frightfully cold，”said the two little mice，“otherwise it's very pleasant here. Don't you think so，you old fir tree？”

“I'm not old at all，”answered the fir tree. “There are many much older than I. ”

“Where do you come from？”asked the mice，“and what do you know？”

Weren't they outrageously inquisitive？

“Tell us about the most attractive place on earth；have you ever been there？Have you ever been in the larder，where there are cheeses on the shelves，and hams hang from the ceiling，where you can dance over tallow candles，and slip in thin and come out fat？”

“I don't know that place，”replied the tree，“but I know the forest where the sun shines and the birds sing！”And it told all about its youth，and the little mice had never heard anything like it. They listened very attentively and said，“My，what a lot you must have seen！How happy you must have been！”

“I？”said the fir tree，thinking about what it had been saying. “Yes，after all，those days were rather pleasant.”Then it told them all about the Christmas Eve when it had been decorated with sweets and candles.

“Oh！”said the little mice.“How happy you've been，you old fir tree！”

“I'm not old at all，”said the fir tree. “It was only this winter that I came out of the forest；I'm in the prime of life，and I've only just stopped growing for the time being.”

“How beautifully you tell things！”said the little mice；and the next night they brought four other mice to hear the tree tell all about its life，and the more the tree told，the more clearly did it remember everything，and thought，“Those really were quite happy days. But they may return—they may return once more. Humpty-dumpty fell down the stairs and still he won the Princess！Perhaps I too may marry a Princess！”And the fir thought of a most adorable little birch that grew out in the forest—for to the fir tree that little birch was a beautiful real Princess.

“Who is Humpty-dumpty？”asked the little mice. The fir tree then told them the whole story，for it remembered every word，and the little mice were so delighted that they almost leaped to the very top of the tree. The next night many more mice came，and on Sunday even two rats appeared—but they said the story was not amusing，which made the little mice rather sad，for now they did not think much of it either.

“Do you know only that one story？”asked the rats.

“Only that one，”answered the tree. “I heard it on the happiest evening of my life，but I never knew then how happy I was！”

“It's a very boring story. Don't you know any about pork and tallow candles？Any larder stories？”

“No，”said the tree.

“Thank you，then we shan't bother you any more，”said the rats，and they returned to the bosom of their families.

Finally the little mice kept away too，and now the tree sighed：“After all，it was rather cozy when those nimble little mice sat round listening to what I told them. All that is over too；but I shall remember to enjoy myself when I'm taken out from here！”

But when would that happen？

Well，it happened one morning when people came to tidy up the attic. The boxes were moved. The tree was pulled out from the corner and thrown rather brutally on the floor，but at once one of the men dragged it towards the stairs where it saw daylight once more. “Now life is beginning again，”thought the tree. It felt the fresh air and the first sunbeams—and now it was out in the courtyard. All happened so quickly that the tree quite forgot to look at itself，there was so much to see all round. The courtyard was next to a garden where all the flowers were in bloom；the roses hung in great fragrant clusters over the little fence，the lime trees were in full blossom，and the swallows flew high and low，twittering，“Kvee-ve-ve，kvee-ve-ve—my love has come！”—but it was not the fir tree they meant.

“Now I am really going to live！”exclaimed the fir tree，bursting with happiness，and it stretched out all its branches. Alas！they were all withered and yellow—it found itself in a corner amongst weeds and nettles. The tinsel star was still fastened to the top，and sparkled in the bright sunshine.

Some of the merry children who had danced round the tree at Christmastime，and had taken such a delight in it then，were playing in the courtyard. One of the smallest rushed at it and pulled off the gold star.

“Look what is still hanging on that ugly old Christmas tree！”he said，trampling on the branches that crackled under his feet.

And the tree looked at the beauty and splendor of the flowers in the garden，and then looked at itself，and wished it had remained in that dark corner of the attic. It thought of its fresh green youth in the forest，of the merry Christmas Eve，and of the little mice which had listened with so much pleasure to the story of Humpty-dumpty.

“All over and done with，”said the poor tree. “Why didn't I enjoy them while I could？Done with！Done with！”

And the man came and chopped the tree up into small pieces；they made quite a heap. A great blaze flared up under the big copper，and the tree moaned so deeply that each moan was like a faint shot. The children were attracted by the sound，made a ring round the fire，gazed into it and shouted，“Bing！bang！”But at each explosion—which was a deep moan—the tree thought of a beautiful summer's day in the forest，or of a starry winter's night out there；it thought of Christmas Eve and of Humpty-dumpty，the only story it had ever heard and been able to telland by now the tree was burnt to ashes.

The boys played in the courtyard，and the youngest one wore on his breast the gold star which had decorated the tree on the happiest evening of its life.

Now that was done with，and the tree was done with，and the story is done with！done with！done with！And that's what happens to all stories.

The Little Mermaid

Far out in the ocean， where the water is as blue as the prettiest cornflower， and as clear as crystal， it is very， very deep; so deep， indeed， that no cable could fathom it: many church steeples， piled one upon another， would not reach from the ground beneath to the surface of the water above. There dwell the Sea King and his subjects. We must not imagine that there is nothing at the bottom of the sea but bare yellow sand. No， indeed; the most singular flowers and plants grow there; the leaves and stems of which are so pliant， that the slightest agitation of the water causes them to stir as if they had life. Fishes， both large and small， glide between the branches， as birds fly among the trees here upon land. In the deepest spot of all， stands the castle of the Sea King. Its walls are built of coral， and the long， gothic windows are of the clearest amber. The roof is formed of shells， that open and close as the water flows over them. Their appearance is very beautiful， for in each lies a glittering pearl， which would be fit for the diadem of a queen.

The Sea King had been a widower for many years， and his aged mother kept house for him. She was a very wise woman， and exceedingly proud of her high birth; on that account she wore twelve oysters on her tail; while others， also of high rank， were only allowed to wear six. She was， however， deserving of very great praise， especially for her care of the little sea-princesses， her grand-daughters. They were six beautiful children; but the youngest was the prettiest of them all; her skin was as clear and delicate as a rose-leaf， and her eyes as blue as the deepest sea; but， like all the others， she had no feet， and her body ended in a fish's tail. All day long they played in the great halls of the castle， or among the living flowers that grew out of the walls. The large amber windows were open， and the fish swam in， just as the swallows fly into our houses when we open the windows， excepting that the fishes swam up to the princesses， ate out of their hands， and allowed themselves to be stroked. Outside the castle there was a beautiful garden， in which grew bright red and dark blue flowers， and blossoms like flames of fire; the fruit glittered like gold， and the leaves and stems waved to and fro continually. The earth itself was the finest sand， but blue as the flame of burning sulphur. Over everything lay a peculiar blue radiance， as if it were surrounded by the air from above， through which the blue sky shone， instead of the dark depths of the sea. In calm weather the sun could be seen， looking like a purple flower， with the light streaming from the calyx. Each of the young princesses had a little plot of ground in the garden， where she might dig and plant as she pleased. One arranged her flower-bed into the form of a whale; another thought it better to make hers like the figure of a little mermaid; but that of the youngest was round like the sun， and contained flowers as red as his rays at sunset. She was a strange child， quiet and thoughtful; and while her sisters would be delighted with the wonderful things which they obtained from the wrecks of vessels， she cared for nothing but her pretty red flowers， like the sun， excepting a beautiful marble statue. It was the representation of a handsome boy， carved out of pure white stone， which had fallen to the bottom of the sea from a wreck. She planted by the statue a rose-colored weeping willow. It grew splendidly， and very soon hung its fresh branches over the statue， almost down to the blue sands. The shadow had a violet tint， and waved to and fro like the branches; it seemed as if the crown of the tree and the root were at play， and trying to kiss each other. Nothing gave her so much pleasure as to hear about the world above the sea. She made her old grandmother tell her all she knew of the ships and of the towns， the people and the animals. To her it seemed most wonderful and beautiful to hear that the flowers of the land should have fragrance， and not those below the sea; that the trees of the forest should be green; and that the fishes among the trees could sing so sweetly， that it was quite a pleasure to hear them. Her grandmother called the little birds fishes， or she would not have understood her; for she had never seen birds.

“When you have reached your fifteenth year，” said the grand-mother， “you will have permission to rise up out of the sea， to sit on the rocks in the moonlight， while the great ships are sailing by; and then you will see both forests and towns.”

In the following year， one of the sisters would be fifteen: but as each was a year younger than the other， the youngest would have to wait five years before her turn came to rise up from the bottom of the ocean， and see the earth as we do. However， each promised to tell the others what she saw on her first visit， and what she thought the most beautiful; for their grandmother could not tell them enough; there were so many things on which they wanted information. None of them longed so much for her turn to come as the youngest， she who had the longest time to wait， and who was so quiet and thoughtful. Many nights she stood by the open window， looking up through the dark blue water， and watching the fish as they splashed about with their fins and tails. She could see the moon and stars shining faintly; but through the water they looked larger than they do to our eyes. When something like a black cloud passed between her and them， she knew that it was either a whale swimming over her head， or a ship full of human beings， who never imagined that a pretty little mermaid was standing beneath them， holding out her white hands towards the keel of their ship.

As soon as the eldest was fifteen， she was allowed to rise to the surface of the ocean. When she came back， she had hundreds of things to talk about; but the most beautiful， she said， was to lie in the moonlight， on a sandbank， in the quiet sea， near the coast， and to gaze on a large town nearby， where the lights were twinkling like hundreds of stars; to listen to the sounds of the music， the noise of carriages， and the voices of human beings， and then to hear the merry bells peal out from the church steeples; and because she could not go near to all those wonderful things， she longed for them more than ever. Oh， did not the youngest sister listen eagerly to all these descriptions? and afterwards， when she stood at the open window looking up through the dark blue water， she thought of the great city， with all its bustle and noise， and even fancied she could hear the sound of the church bells， down in the depths of the sea.

In another year the second sister received permission to rise to the surface of the water， and to swim about where she pleased. She rose just as the sun was setting， and this， she said， was the most beautiful sight of all. The whole sky looked like gold， while violet and rose-colored clouds， which she could not describe， floated over her; and， still more rapidly than the clouds， flew a large flock of wild swans towards the setting sun， looking like a long white veil across the sea. She also swam towards the sun; but it sunk into the waves， and the rosy tints faded from the clouds and from the sea.

The third sister's turn followed; she was the boldest of them all， and she swam up a broad river that emptied itself into the sea. On the banks she saw green hills covered with beautiful vines; palaces and castles peeped out from amid the proud trees of the forest; she heard the birds singing， and the rays of the sun were so powerful that she was obliged often to dive down under the water to cool her burning face. In a narrow creek she found a whole troop of little human children， quite naked， and sporting about in the water; she wanted to play with them， but they fled in a great fright; and then a little black animal came to the water; it was a dog， but she did not know that， for she had never before seen one. This animal barked at her so terribly that she became frightened， and rushed back to the open sea. But she said she should never forget the beautiful forest， the green hills， and the pretty little children who could swim in the water， although they had not fish's tails.

The fourth sister was more timid; she remained in the midst of the sea， but she said it was quite as beautiful there as nearer the land. She could see for so many miles around her， and the sky above looked like a bell of glass. She had seen the ships， but at such a great distance that they looked like sea-gulls. The dolphins sported in the waves， and the great whales spouted water from their nostrils till it seemed as if a hundred fountains were playing in every direction.

The fifth sister's birthday occurred in the winter; so when her turn came， she saw what the others had not seen the first time they went up. The sea looked quite green， and large icebergs were floating about， each like a pearl， she said， but larger and loftier than the churches built by men. They were of the most singular shapes， and glittered like diamonds. She had seated herself upon one of the largest， and let the wind play with her long hair， and she remarked that all the ships sailed by rapidly， and steered as far away as they could from the iceberg， as if they were afraid of it. Towards evening， as the sun went down， dark clouds covered the sky， the thunder rolled and the lightning flashed， and the red light glowed on the icebergs as they rocked and tossed on the heaving sea. On all the ships the sails were reefed with fear and trembling， while she sat calmly on the floating iceberg， watching the blue lightning， as it darted its forked flashes into the sea.

When first the sisters had permission to rise to the surface， they were each delighted with the new and beautiful sights they saw; but now， as grown-up girls， they could go when they pleased， and they had become indifferent about it. They wished themselves back again in the water， and after a month had passed they said it was much more beautiful down below， and pleasanter to be at home. Yet often， in the evening hours， the five sisters would twine their arms round each other， and rise to the surface， in a row. They had more beautiful voices than any human being could have; and before the approach of a storm， and when they expected a ship would be lost， they swam before the vessel， and sang sweetly of the delights to be found in the depths of the sea， and begging the sailors not to fear if they sank to the bottom. But the sailors could not understand the song， they took it for the howling of the storm. And these things were never to be beautiful for them; for if the ship sank， the men were drowned， and their dead bodies alone reached the palace of the Sea King.

When the sisters rose， arm-in-arm， through the water in this way， their youngest sister would stand quite alone， looking after them， ready to cry， only that the mermaids have no tears， and therefore they suffer more. “Oh， were I but fifteen years old，” said she: “I know that I shall love the world up there， and all the people who live in it.”

At last she reached her fifteenth year. “Well， now， you are grown up，” said the old dowager， her grandmother; “so you must let me adorn you like your other sisters;” and she placed a wreath of white lilies in her hair， and every flower leaf was half a pearl. Then the old lady ordered eight great oysters to attach themselves to the tail of the princess to show her high rank.

“But they hurt me so，” said the little mermaid.

“Pride must suffer pain，” replied the old lady. Oh， how gladly she would have shaken off all this grandeur， and laid aside the heavy wreath! The red flowers in her own garden would have suited her much better， but she could not help herself: so she said， “Farewell，” and rose as lightly as a bubble to the surface of the water. The sun had just set as she raised her head above the waves; but the clouds were tinted with crimson and gold， and through the glimmering twilight beamed the evening star in all its beauty. The sea was calm， and the air mild and fresh. A large ship， with three masts， lay becalmed on the water， with only one sail set; for not a breeze stiffed， and the sailors sat idle on deck or amongst the rigging. There was music and song on board; and， as darkness came on， a hundred colored lanterns were lighted， as if the flags of all nations waved in the air. The little mermaid swam close to the cabin windows; and now and then， as the waves lifted her up， she could look in through clear glass window-panes， and see a number of well-dressed people within. Among them was a young prince， the most beautiful of all， with large black eyes; he was sixteen years of age， and his birthday was being kept with much rejoicing. The sailors were dancing on deck， but when the prince came out of the cabin， more than a hundred rockets rose in the air， making it as bright as day. The little mermaid was so startled that she dived under water; and when she again stretched out her head， it appeared as if all the stars of heaven were falling around her， she had never seen such fireworks before. Great suns spurted fire about， splendid fireflies flew into the blue air， and everything was reflected in the clear， calm sea beneath. The ship itself was so brightly illuminated that all the people， and even the smallest rope， could be distinctly and plainly seen. And how handsome the young prince looked， as he pressed the hands of all present and smiled at them， while the music resounded through the clear night air.

It was very late; yet the little mermaid could not take her eyes from the ship， or from the beautiful prince. The colored lanterns had been extinguished， no more rockets rose in the air， and the cannon had ceased firing; but the sea became restless， and a moaning， grumbling sound could be heard beneath the waves: still the little mermaid remained by the cabin window， rocking up and down on the water， which enabled her to look in. After a while， the sails were quickly unfurled， and the noble ship continued her passage; but soon the waves rose higher， heavy clouds darkened the sky， and lightning appeared in the distance. A dreadful storm was approaching; once more the sails were reefed， and the great ship pursued her flying course over the raging sea. The waves rose mountains high， as if they would have overtopped the mast; but the ship dived like a swan between them， and then rose again on their lofty， foaming crests. To the little mermaid this appeared pleasant sport; not so to the sailors. At length the ship groaned and creaked; the thick planks gave way under the lashing of the sea as it broke over the deck; the mainmast snapped asunder like a reed; the ship lay over on her side; and the water rushed in. The little mermaid now perceived that the crew were in danger; even she herself was obliged to be careful to avoid the beams and planks of the wreck which lay scattered on the water. At one moment it was so pitch dark that she could not see a single object， but a flash of lightning revealed the whole scene; she could see every one who had been on board excepting the prince; when the ship parted， she had seen him sink into the deep waves， and she was glad， for she thought he would now be with her; and then she remembered that human beings could not live in the water， so that when he got down to her father's palace he would be quite dead. But he must not die. So she swam about among the beams and planks which strewed the surface of the sea， forgetting that they could crush her to pieces. Then she dived deeply under the dark waters， rising and falling with the waves， till at length she managed to reach the young prince， who was fast losing the power of swimming in that stormy sea. His limbs were failing him， his beautiful eyes were closed， and he would have died had not the little mermaid come to his assistance. She held his head above the water， and let the waves drift them where they would.

In the morning the storm had ceased; but of the ship not a single fragment could be seen. The sun rose up red and glowing from the water， and its beams brought back the hue of health to the prince's cheeks; but his eyes remained closed. The mermaid kissed his high， smooth forehead， and stroked back his wet hair; he seemed to her like the marble statue in her little garden， and she kissed him again， and wished that he might live. Presently they came in sight of land; she saw lofty blue mountains， on which the white snow rested as if a flock of swans were lying upon them. Near the coast were beautiful green forests， and close by stood a large building， whether a church or a convent she could not tell. Orange and citron trees grew in the garden， and before the door stood lofty palms. The sea here formed a little bay， in which the water was quite still， but very deep; so she swam with the handsome prince to the beach， which was covered with fine， white sand， and there she laid him in the warm sunshine， taking care to raise his head higher than his body. Then bells sounded in the large white building， and a number of young girls came into the garden. The little mermaid swam out farther from the shore and placed herself between some high rocks that rose out of the water; then she covered her head and neck with the foam of the sea so that her little face might not be seen， and watched to see what would become of the poor prince. She did not wait long before she saw a young girl approach the spot where he lay. She seemed frightened at first， but only for a moment; then she fetched a number of people， and the mermaid saw that the prince came to life again， and smiled upon those who stood round him. But to her he sent no smile; he knew not that she had saved him. This made her very unhappy， and when he was led away into the great building， she dived down sorrowfully into the water， and returned to her father's castle. She had always been silent and thoughtful， and now she was more so than ever. Her sisters asked her what she had seen during her first visit to the surface of the water; but she would tell them nothing. Many an evening and morning did she rise to the place where she had left the prince. She saw the fruits in the garden ripen till they were gathered， the snow on the tops of the mountains melt away; but she never saw the prince， and therefore she returned home， always more sorrowful than before. It was her only comfort to sit in her own little garden， and fling her arm round the beautiful marble statue which was like the prince; but she gave up tending her flowers， and they grew in wild confusion over the paths， twining their long leaves and stems round the branches of the trees， so that the whole place became dark and gloomy. At length she could bear it no longer， and told one of her sisters all about it. Then the others heard the secret， and very soon it became known to two mermaids whose intimate friend happened to know who the prince was. She had also seen the festival on board ship， and she told them where the prince came from， and where his palace stood.

“Come， little sister，” said the other princesses; then they entwined their arms and rose up in a long row to the surface of the water， close by the spot where they knew the prince's palace stood. It was built of bright yellow shining stone， with long flights of marble steps， one of which reached quite down to the sea. Splendid gilded cupolas rose over the roof， and between the pillars that surrounded the whole building stood life-like statues of marble. Through the clear crystal of the lofty windows could be seen noble rooms， with costly silk curtains and hangings of tapestry; while the walls were covered with beautiful paintings which were a pleasure to look at. In the centre of the largest saloon a fountain threw its sparkling jets high up into the glass cupola of the ceiling， through which the sun shone down upon the water and upon the beautiful plants growing round the basin of the fountain. Now that she knew where he lived， she spent many an evening and many a night on the water near the palace. She would swim much nearer the shore than any of the others ventured to do; indeed once she went quite up the narrow channel under the marble balcony， which threw a broad shadow on the water. Here she would sit and watch the young prince， who thought himself quite alone in the bright moonlight. She saw him many times of an evening sailing in a pleasant boat， with music playing and flags waving. She peeped out from among the green rushes， and if the wind caught her long silvery-white veil， those who saw it believed it to be a swan， spreading out its wings. On many a night， too， when the fishermen， with their torches， were out at sea， she heard them relate so many good things about the doings of the young prince， that she was glad she had saved his life when he had been tossed about half-dead on the waves. And she remembered that his head had rested on her bosom， and how heartily she had kissed him; but he knew nothing of all this， and could not even dream of her. She grew more and more fond of human beings， and wished more and more to be able to wander about with those whose world seemed to be so much larger than her own. They could fly over the sea in ships， and mount the high hills which were far above the clouds; and the lands they possessed， their woods and their fields， stretched far away beyond the reach of her sight. There was so much that she wished to know， and her sisters were unable to answer all her questions. Then she applied to her old grandmother， who knew all about the upper world， which she very rightly called the lands above the sea.

“If human beings are not drowned，” asked the little mermaid， “can they live forever? do they never die as we do here in the sea?”

“Yes，” replied the old lady， “they must also die， and their term of life is even shorter than ours. We sometimes live to three hundred years， but when we cease to exist here we only become the foam on the surface of the water， and we have not even a grave down here of those we love. We have not immortal souls， we shall never live again; but， like the green sea-weed， when once it has been cut off， we can never flourish more. Human beings， on the contrary， have a soul which lives forever， lives after the body has been turned to dust. It rises up through the clear， pure air beyond the glittering stars. As we rise out of the water， and behold all the land of the earth， so do they rise to unknown and glorious regions which we shall never see.”

“Why have not we an immortal soul?” asked the little mermaid mournfully; “I would give gladly all the hundreds of years that I have to live， to be a human being only for one day， and to have the hope of knowing the happiness of that glorious world above the stars.”

“You must not think of that，” said the old woman; “we feel ourselves to be much happier and much better off than human beings.”

“So I shall die，” said the little mermaid， “and as the foam of the sea I shall be driven about never again to hear the music of the waves， or to see the pretty flowers nor the red sun. Is there anything I can do to win an immortal soul?”

“No，” said the old woman， “unless a man were to love you so much that you were more to him than his father or mother; and if all his thoughts and all his love were fixed upon you， and the priest placed his right hand in yours， and he promised to be true to you here and hereafter， then his soul would glide into your body and you would obtain a share in the future happiness of mankind. He would give a soul to you and retain his own as well; but this can never happen. Your fish's tail， which amongst us is considered so beautiful， is thought on earth to be quite ugly; they do not know any better， and they think it necessary to have two stout props， which they call legs， in order to be handsome.”

Then the little mermaid sighed， and looked sorrowfully at her fish's tail. “Let us be happy，” said the old lady， “and dart and spring about during the three hundred years that we have to live， which is really quite long enough; after that we can rest ourselves all the better. This evening we are going to have a court ball.”

It is one of those splendid sights which we can never see on earth. The walls and the ceiling of the large ball-room were of thick， but transparent crystal. May hundreds of colossal shells， some of a deep red， others of a grass green， stood on each side in rows， with blue fire in them， which lighted up the whole saloon， and shone through the walls， so that the sea was also illuminated. Innumerable fishes， great and small， swam past the crystal walls; on some of them the scales glowed with a purple brilliancy， and on others they shone like silver and gold. Through the halls flowed a broad stream， and in it danced the mermen and the mermaids to the music of their own sweet singing. No one on earth has such a lovely voice as theirs. The little mermaid sang more sweetly than them all. The whole court applauded her with hands and tails; and for a moment her heart felt quite gay， for she knew she had the loveliest voice of any on earth or in the sea. But she soon thought again of the world above her， for she could not forget the charming prince， nor her sorrow that she had not an immortal soul like his; therefore she crept away silently out of her father's palace， and while everything within was gladness and song， she sat in her own little garden sorrowful and alone. Then she heard the bugle sounding through the water， and thought—“He is certainly sailing above， he on whom my wishes depend， and in whose hands I should like to place the happiness of my life. I will venture all for him， and to win an immortal soul， while my sisters are dancing in my father's palace， I will go to the sea witch， of whom I have always been so much afraid， but she can give me counsel and help.”

And then the little mermaid went out from her garden， and took the road to the foaming whirlpools， behind which the sorceress lived. She had never been that way before: neither flowers nor grass grew there; nothing but bare， gray， sandy ground stretched out to the whirlpool， where the water， like foaming mill-wheels， whirled round everything that it seized， and cast it into the fathomless deep. Through the midst of these crushing whirlpools the little mermaid was obliged to pass， to reach the dominions of the sea witch; and also for a long distance the only road lay right across a quantity of warm， bubbling mire， called by the witch her turfmoor. Beyond this stood her house， in the centre of a strange forest， in which all the trees and flowers were polypi， half animals and half plants; they looked like serpents with a hundred heads growing out of the ground. The branches were long slimy arms， with fingers like flexible worms， moving limb after limb from the root to the top. All that could be reached in the sea they seized upon， and held fast， so that it never escaped from their clutches. The little mermaid was so alarmed at what she saw， that she stood still， and her heart beat with fear， and she was very nearly turning back; but she thought of the prince， and of the human soul for which she longed， and her courage returned. She fastened her long flowing hair round her head， so that the polypi might not seize hold of it. She laid her hands together across her bosom， and then she darted forward as a fish shoots through the water， between the supple arms and fingers of the ugly polypi， which were stretched out on each side of her. She saw that each held in its grasp something it had seized with its numerous little arms， as if they were iron bands. The white skeletons of human beings who had perished at sea， and had sunk down into the deep waters， skeletons of land animals， oars， rudders， and chests of ships were lying tightly grasped by their clinging arms; even a little mermaid， whom they had caught and strangled; and this seemed the most shocking of all to the little princess.

She now came to a space of marshy ground in the wood， where large， fat water-snakes were rolling in the mire， and showing their ugly， drab-colored bodies. In the midst of this spot stood a house， built with the bones of shipwrecked human beings. There sat the sea witch， allowing a toad to eat from her mouth， just as people sometimes feed a canary with a piece of sugar. She called the ugly water-snakes her little chickens， and allowed them to crawl all over her bosom.

“I know what you want，” said the sea witch; “it is very stupid of you， but you shall have your way， and it will bring you to sorrow， my pretty princess. You want to get rid of your fish's tail， and to have two supports instead of it， like human beings on earth， so that the young prince may fall in love with you， and that you may have an immortal soul.” And then the witch laughed so loud and disgustingly， that the toad and the snakes fell to the ground， and lay there wriggling about. “You are but just in time，” said the witch; “for after sunrise to-morrow I should not be able to help you till the end of another year. I will prepare a draught for you， with which you must swim to land tomorrow before sunrise， and sit down on the shore and drink it. Your tail will then disappear， and shrink up into what mankind calls legs， and you will feel great pain， as if a sword were passing through you. But all who see you will say that you are the prettiest little human being they ever saw. You will still have the same floating gracefulness of movement， and no dancer will ever tread so lightly; but at every step you take it will feel as if you were treading upon sharp knives， and that the blood must flow. If you will bear all this， I will help you.”

“Yes， I will，” said the little princess in a trembling voice， as she thought of the prince and the immortal soul.

“But think again，” said the witch; “for when once your shape has become like a human being， you can no more be a mermaid. You will never return through the water to your sisters， or to your father's palace again; and if you do not win the love of the prince， so that he is willing to forget his father and mother for your sake， and to love you with his whole soul， and allow the priest to join your hands that you may be man and wife， then you will never have an immortal soul. The first morning after he marries another your heart will break， and you will become foam on the crest of the waves.”

“I will do it，” said the little mermaid， and she became pale as death.

“But I must be paid also，” said the witch， “and it is not a trifle that I ask. You have the sweetest voice of any who dwell here in the depths of the sea， and you believe that you will be able to charm the prince with it also， but this voice you must give to me; the best thing you possess will I have for the price of my draught. My own blood must be mixed with it， that it may be as sharp as a two-edged sword.”

“But if you take away my voice，” said the little mermaid， “what is left for me?”

“Your beautiful form， your graceful walk， and your expressive eyes; surely with these you can enchain a man's heart. Well， have you lost your courage? Put out your little tongue that I may cut it off as my payment; then you shall have the powerful draught.”

“It shall be，” said the little mermaid.

Then the witch placed her cauldron on the fire， to prepare the magic draught.

“Cleanliness is a good thing，” said she， scouring the vessel with snakes， which she had tied together in a large knot; then she pricked herself in the breast， and let the black blood drop into it. The steam that rose formed itself into such horrible shapes that no one could look at them without fear. Every moment the witch threw something else into the vessel， and when it began to boil， the sound was like the weeping of a crocodile. When at last the magic draught was ready， it looked like the clearest water. “There it is for you，” said the witch. Then she cut off the mermaid's tongue， so that she became dumb， and would never again speak or sing. “If the polypi should seize hold of you as you return through the wood，” said the witch， “throw over them a few drops of the potion， and their fingers will be torn into a thousand pieces.” But the little mermaid had no occasion to do this， for the polypi sprang back in terror when they caught sight of the glittering draught， which shone in her hand like a twinkling star.

So she passed quickly through the wood and the marsh， and between the rushing whirlpools. She saw that in her father's palace the torches in the ballroom were extinguished， and all within asleep; but she did not venture to go in to them， for now she was dumb and going to leave them forever， she felt as if her heart would break. She stole into the garden， took a flower from the flower-beds of each of her sisters， kissed her hand a thousand times towards the palace， and then rose up through the dark blue waters. The sun had not risen when she came in sight of the prince's palace， and approached the beautiful marble steps， but the moon shone clear and bright. Then the little mermaid drank the magic draught， and it seemed as if a two-edged sword went through her delicate body: she fell into a swoon， and lay like one dead. When the sun arose and shone over the sea， she recovered， and felt a sharp pain; but just before her stood the handsome young prince. He fixed his coal-black eyes upon her so earnestly that she cast down her own， and then became aware that her fish's tail was gone， and that she had as pretty a pair of white legs and tiny feet as any little maiden could have; but she had no clothes， so she wrapped herself in her long， thick hair. The prince asked her who she was， and where she came from， and she looked at him mildly and sorrowfully with her deep blue eyes; but she could not speak. Every step she took was as the witch had said it would be， she felt as if treading upon the points of needles or sharp knives; but she bore it willingly， and stepped as lightly by the prince's side as a soap-bubble， so that he and all who saw her wondered at her graceful-swaying movements. She was very soon arrayed in costly robes of silk and muslin， and was the most beautiful creature in the palace; but she was dumb， and could neither speak nor sing.

Beautiful female slaves， dressed in silk and gold， stepped forward and sang before the prince and his royal parents: one sang better than all the others， and the prince clapped his hands and smiled at her. This was great sorrow to the little mermaid; she knew how much more sweetly she herself could sing once， and she thought， “Oh if he could only know that! I have given away my voice forever， to be with him.”

The slaves next performed some pretty fairy-like dances， to the sound of beautiful music. Then the little mermaid raised her lovely white arms， stood on the tips of her toes， and glided over the floor， and danced as no one yet had been able to dance. At each moment her beauty became more revealed， and her expressive eyes appealed more directly to the heart than the songs of the slaves. Every one was enchanted， especially the prince， who called her his little foundling; and she danced again quite readily， to please him， though each time her foot touched the floor it seemed as if she trod on sharp knives.

The prince said she should remain with him always， and she received permission to sleep at his door， on a velvet cushion. He had a page's dress made for her， that she might accompany him on horseback. They rode together through the sweet-scented woods， where the green boughs touched their shoulders， and the little birds sang among the fresh leaves. She climbed with the prince to the tops of high mountains; and although her tender feet bled so that even her steps were marked， she only laughed， and followed him till they could see the clouds beneath them looking like a flock of birds travelling to distant lands. While at the prince's palace， and when all the household were asleep， she would go and sit on the broad marble steps; for it eased her burning feet to bathe them in the cold sea-water; and then she thought of all those below in the deep.

Once during the night her sisters came up arm-in-arm， singing sorrowfully， as they floated on the water. She beckoned to them， and then they recognized her， and told her how she had grieved them. After that， they came to the same place every night; and once she saw in the distance her old grandmother， who had not been to the surface of the sea for many years， and the old Sea King， her father， with his crown on his head. They stretched out their hands towards her， but they did not venture so near the land as her sisters did.

As the days passed， she loved the prince more fondly， and he loved her as he would love a little child， but it never came into his head to make her his wife; yet， unless he married her， she could not receive an immortal soul; and， on the morning after his marriage with another， she would dissolve into the foam of the sea.

“Do you not love me the best of them all?” the eyes of the little mermaid seemed to say， when he took her in his arms， and kissed her fair forehead.

“Yes， you are dear to me，” said the prince; “for you have the best heart， and you are the most devoted to me; you are like a young maiden whom I once saw， but whom I shall never meet again. I was in a ship that was wrecked， and the waves cast me ashore near a holy temple， where several young maidens performed the service. The youngest of them found me on the shore， and saved my life. I saw her but twice， and she is the only one in the world whom I could love; but you are like her， and you have almost driven her image out of my mind. She belongs to the holy temple， and my good fortune has sent you to me instead of her; and we will never part.”

“Ah， he knows not that it was I who saved his life，” thought the little mermaid. “I carried him over the sea to the wood where the temple stands: I sat beneath the foam， and watched till the human beings came to help him. I saw the pretty maiden that he loves better than he loves me;” and the mermaid sighed deeply， but she could not shed tears. “He says the maiden belongs to the holy temple， therefore she will never return to the world. They will meet no more: while I am by his side， and see him every day. I will take care of him， and love him， and give up my life for his sake.”

Very soon it was said that the prince must marry， and that the beautiful daughter of a neighboring king would be his wife， for a fine ship was being fitted out. Although the prince gave out that he merely intended to pay a visit to the king， it was generally supposed that he really went to see his daughter. A great company were to go with him. The little mermaid smiled， and shook her head. She knew the prince's thoughts better than any of the others.

“I must travel，” he had said to her; “I must see this beautiful princess; my parents desire it; but they will not oblige me to bring her home as my bride. I cannot love her; she is not like the beautiful maiden in the temple， whom you resemble. If I were forced to choose a bride， I would rather choose you， my dumb foundling， with those expressive eyes.” And then he kissed her rosy mouth， played with her long waving hair， and laid his head on her heart， while she dreamed of human happiness and an immortal soul. “You are not afraid of the sea， my dumb child，” said he， as they stood on the deck of the noble ship which was to carry them to the country of the neighboring king. And then he told her of storm and of calm， of strange fishes in the deep beneath them， and of what the divers had seen there; and she smiled at his descriptions， for she knew better than any one what wonders were at the bottom of the sea.

In the moonlight， when all on board were asleep， excepting the man at the helm， who was steering， she sat on the deck， gazing down through the clear water. She thought she could distinguish her father's castle， and upon it her aged grandmother， with the silver crown on her head， looking through the rushing tide at the keel of the vessel. Then her sisters came up on the waves， and gazed at her mournfully， wringing their white hands. She beckoned to them， and smiled， and wanted to tell them how happy and well off she was; but the cabin-boy approached， and when her sisters dived down he thought it was only the foam of the sea which he saw.

The next morning the ship sailed into the harbor of a beautiful town belonging to the king whom the prince was going to visit. The church bells were ringing， and from the high towers sounded a flourish of trumpets; and soldiers， with flying colors and glittering bayonets， lined the rocks through which they passed. Every day was a festival; balls and entertainments followed one another.

But the princess had not yet appeared. People said that she was being brought up and educated in a religious house， where she was learning every royal virtue. At last she came. Then the little mermaid， who was very anxious to see whether she was really beautiful， was obliged to acknowledge that she had never seen a more perfect vision of beauty. Her skin was delicately fair， and beneath her long dark eye-lashes her laughing blue eyes shone with truth and purity.

“It was you，” said the prince， “who saved my life when I lay dead on the beach，” and he folded his blushing bride in his arms. “Oh， I am too happy，” said he to the little mermaid; “my fondest hopes are all fulfilled. You will rejoice at my happiness; for your devotion to me is great and sincere.”

The little mermaid kissed his hand， and felt as if her heart were already broken. His wedding morning would bring death to her， and she would change into the foam of the sea. All the church bells rung， and the heralds rode about the town proclaiming the betrothal. Perfumed oil was burning in costly silver lamps on every altar. The priests waved the censers， while the bride and bridegroom joined their hands and received the blessing of the bishop. The little mermaid， dressed in silk and gold， held up the bride's train; but her ears heard nothing of the festive music， and her eyes saw not the holy ceremony; she thought of the night of death which was coming to her， and of all she had lost in the world. On the same evening the bride and bridegroom went on board ship; cannons were roaring， flags waving， and in the centre of the ship a costly tent of purple and gold had been erected. It contained elegant couches， for the reception of the bridal pair during the night. The ship， with swelling sails and a favorable wind， glided away smoothly and lightly over the calm sea. When it grew dark a number of colored lamps were lit， and the sailors danced merrily on the deck. The little mermaid could not help thinking of her first rising out of the sea， when she had seen similar festivities and joys; and she joined in the dance， poised herself in the air as a swallow when he pursues his prey， and all present cheered her with wonder. She had never danced so elegantly before. Her tender feet felt as if cut with sharp knives， but she cared not for it; a sharper pang had pierced through her heart. She knew this was the last evening she should ever see the prince， for whom she had forsaken her kindred and her home; she had given up her beautiful voice， and suffered unheard-of pain daily for him， while he knew nothing of it. This was the last evening that she would breathe the same air with him， or gaze on the starry sky and the deep sea; an eternal night， without a thought or a dream， awaited her: she had no soul and now she could never win one. All was joy and gayety on board ship till long after midnight; she laughed and danced with the rest， while the thoughts of death were in her heart. The prince kissed his beautiful bride， while she played with his raven hair， till they went arm-in-arm to rest in the splendid tent. Then all became still on board the ship; the helmsman， alone awake， stood at the helm. The little mermaid leaned her white arms on the edge of the vessel， and looked towards the east for the first blush of morning， for that first ray of dawn that would bring her death. She saw her sisters rising out of the flood: they were as pale as herself; but their long beautiful hair waved no more in the wind， and had been cut off.

“We have given our hair to the witch，” said they， “to obtain help for you， that you may not die to-night. She has given us a knife: here it is， see it is very sharp. Before the sun rises you must plunge it into the heart of the prince; when the warm blood falls upon your feet they will grow together again， and form into a fish's tail， and you will be once more a mermaid， and return to us to live out your three hundred years before you die and change into the salt sea foam. Haste， then; he or you must die before sunrise. Our old grandmother moans so for you， that her white hair is falling off from sorrow， as ours fell under the witch's scissors. Kill the prince and come back; hasten: do you not see the first red streaks in the sky? In a few minutes the sun will rise， and you must die.” And then they sighed deeply and mournfully， and sank down beneath the waves.

The little mermaid drew back the crimson curtain of the tent， and beheld the fair bride with her head resting on the prince's breast. She bent down and kissed his fair brow， then looked at the sky on which the rosy dawn grew brighter and brighter; then she glanced at the sharp knife， and again fixed her eyes on the prince， who whispered the name of his bride in his dreams. She was in his thoughts， and the knife trembled in the hand of the little mermaid: then she flung it far away from her into the waves; the water turned red where it fell， and the drops that spurted up looked like blood. She cast one more lingering， half-fainting glance at the prince， and then threw herself from the ship into the sea， and thought her body was dissolving into foam. The sun rose above the waves， and his warm rays fell on the cold foam of the little mermaid， who did not feel as if she were dying. She saw the bright sun， and all around her floated hundreds of transparent beautiful beings; she could see through them the white sails of the ship， and the red clouds in the sky; their speech was melodious， but too ethereal to be heard by mortal ears， as they were also unseen by mortal eyes. The little mermaid perceived that she had a body like theirs， and that she continued to rise higher and higher out of the foam. “Where am I?” asked she， and her voice sounded ethereal， as the voice of those who were with her; no earthly music could imitate it.

“Among the daughters of the air，” answered one of them. “A mermaid has not an immortal soul， nor can she obtain one unless she wins the love of a human being. On the power of another hangs her eternal destiny. But the daughters of the air， although they do not possess an immortal soul， can， by their good deeds， procure one for themselves. We fly to warm countries， and cool the sultry air that destroys mankind with the pestilence. We carry the perfume of the flowers to spread health and restoration. After we have striven for three hundred years to all the good in our power， we receive an immortal soul and take part in the happiness of mankind. You， poor little mermaid， have tried with your whole heart to do as we are doing; you have suffered and endured and raised yourself to the spirit-world by your good deeds; and now， by striving for three hundred years in the same way， you may obtain an immortal soul.”

The little mermaid lifted her glorified eyes towards the sun， and felt them， for the first time， filling with tears. On the ship， in which she had left the prince， there were life and noise; she saw him and his beautiful bride searching for her; sorrowfully they gazed at the pearly foam， as if they knew she had thrown herself into the waves. Unseen she kissed the forehead of her bride， and fanned the prince， and then mounted with the other children of the air to a rosy cloud that floated through the aether.

“After three hundred years， thus shall we float into the kingdom of heaven，” said she. “And we may even get there sooner，” whispered one of her companions. “Unseen we can enter the houses of men， where there are children， and for every day on which we find a good child， who is the joy of his parents and deserves their love， our time of probation is shortened. The child does not know， when we fly through the room， that we smile with joy at his good conduct， for we can count one year less of our three hundred years. But when we see a naughty or a wicked child， we shed tears of sorrow， and for every tear a day is added to our time of trial!”

The Wild Swans

Far away in the land to which the swallows fly when it is winter， dwelt a king who had eleven sons， and one daughter， named Eliza. The eleven brothers were princes， and each went to school with a star on his breast， and a sword by his side. They wrote with diamond pencils on gold slates， and learnt their lessons so quickly and read so easily that every one might know they were princes. Their sister Eliza sat on a little stool of plate-glass， and had a book full of pictures， which had cost as much as half a kingdom. Oh， these children were indeed happy， but it was not to remain so always. Their father， who was king of the country， married a very wicked queen， who did not love the poor children at all. They knew this from the very first day after the wedding. In the palace there were great festivities， and the children played at receiving company; but instead of having， as usual， all the cakes and apples that were left， she gave them some sand in a tea-cup， and told them to pretend it was cake. The week after， she sent little Eliza into the country to a peasant and his wife， and then she told the king so many untrue things about the young princes， that he gave himself no more trouble respecting them.

“Go out into the world and get your own living，” said the queen. “Fly like great birds， who have no voice.” But she could not make them ugly as she wished， for they were turned into eleven beautiful wild swans. Then， with a strange cry， they flew through the windows of the palace， over the park， to the forest beyond. It was early morning when they passed the peasant's cottage， where their sister Eliza lay asleep in her room. They hovered over the roof， twisted their long necks and flapped their wings， but no one heard them or saw them， so they were at last obliged to fly away， high up in the clouds; and over the wide world they flew till they came to a thick， dark wood， which stretched far away to the seashore. Poor little Eliza was alone in her room playing with a green leaf， for she had no other playthings， and she pierced a hole through the leaf， and looked through it at the sun， and it was as if she saw her brothers' clear eyes， and when the warm sun shone on her cheeks， she thought of all the kisses they had given her. One day passed just like another; sometimes the winds rustled through the leaves of the rose-bush， and would whisper to the roses， “Who can be more beautiful than you!” But the roses would shake their heads， and say， “Eliza is.” And when the old woman sat at the cottage door on Sunday， and read her hymn-book， the wind would flutter the leaves， and say to the book， “Who can be more pious than you?” and then the hymn-book would answer “Eliza.” And the roses and the hymn-book told the real truth. At fifteen she returned home， but when the queen saw how beautiful she was， she became full of spite and hatred towards her. Willingly would she have turned her into a swan， like her brothers， but she did not dare to do so yet， because the king wished to see his daughter. Early one morning the queen went into the bath-room; it was built of marble， and had soft cushions， trimmed with the most beautiful tapestry. She took three toads with her， and kissed them， and said to one， “When Eliza comes to the bath， seat yourself upon her head， that she may become as stupid as you are.” Then she said to another， “Place yourself on her forehead， that she may become as ugly as you are， and that her father may not know her.” “Rest on her heart，” she whispered to the third， “then she will have evil inclinations， and suffer in consequence.” So she put the toads into the clear water， and they turned green immediately. She next called Eliza， and helped her to undress and get into the bath. As Eliza dipped her head under the water， one of the toads sat on her hair， a second on her forehead， and a third on her breast， but she did not seem to notice them， and when she rose out of the water， there were three red poppies floating upon it. Had not the creatures been venomous or been kissed by the witch， they would have been changed into red roses. At all events they became flowers， because they had rested on Eliza's head， and on her heart. She was too good and too innocent for witchcraft to have any power over her. When the wicked queen saw this， she rubbed her face with walnut-juice， so that she was quite brown; then she tangled her beautiful hair and smeared it with disgusting ointment， till it was quite impossible to recognize the beautiful Eliza.

When her father saw her， he was much shocked， and declared she was not his daughter. No one but the watch-dog and the swallows knew her; and they were only poor animals， and could say nothing. Then poor Eliza wept， and thought of her eleven brothers， who were all away. Sorrowfully， she stole away from the palace， and walked， the whole day， over fields and moors， till she came to the great forest. She knew not in what direction to go; but she was so unhappy， and longed so for her brothers， who had been， like herself， driven out into the world， that she was determined to seek them. She had been but a short time in the wood when night came on， and she quite lost the path; so she laid herself down on the soft moss， offered up her evening prayer， and leaned her head against the stump of a tree. All nature was still， and the soft， mild air fanned her forehead. The light of hundreds of glow-worms shone amidst the grass and the moss， like green fire; and if she touched a twig with her hand， ever so lightly， the brilliant insects fell down around her， like shooting-stars.

All night long she dreamt of her brothers. She and they were children again， playing together. She saw them writing with their diamond pencils on golden slates， while she looked at the beautiful picture-book which had cost half a kingdom. They were not writing lines and letters， as they used to do; but descriptions of the noble deeds they had performed， and of all they had discovered and seen. In the picture-book， too， everything was living. The birds sang， and the people came out of the book， and spoke to Eliza and her brothers; but， as the leaves turned over， they darted back again to their places， that all might be in order.

When she awoke， the sun was high in the heavens; yet she could not see him， for the lofty trees spread their branches thickly over her head; but his beams were glancing through the leaves here and there， like a golden mist. There was a sweet fragrance from the fresh green verdure， and the birds almost perched upon her shoulders. She heard water rippling from a number of springs， all flowing in a lake with golden sands. Bushes grew thickly round the lake， and at one spot an opening had been made by a deer， through which Eliza went down to the water. The lake was so clear that， had not the wind rustled the branches of the trees and the bushes， so that they moved， they would have appeared as if painted in the depths of the lake; for every leaf was reflected in the water， whether it stood in the shade or the sunshine. As soon as Eliza saw her own face， she was quite terrified at finding it so brown and ugly; but when she wetted her little hand， and rubbed her eyes and forehead， the white skin gleamed forth once more; and， after she had undressed， and dipped herself in the fresh water， a more beautiful king's daughter could not be found in the wide world. As soon as she had dressed herself again， and braided her long hair， she went to the bubbling spring， and drank some water out of the hollow of her hand. Then she wandered far into the forest， not knowing whither she went. She thought of her brothers， and felt sure that God would not forsake her. It is God who makes the wild apples grow in the wood， to satisfy the hungry， and He now led her to one of these trees， which was so loaded with fruit， that the boughs bent beneath the weight. Here she held her noonday repast， placed props under the boughs， and then went into the gloomiest depths of the forest. It was so still that she could hear the sound of her own footsteps， as well as the rustling of every withered leaf which she crushed under her feet. Not a bird was to be seen， not a sunbeam could penetrate through the large， dark boughs of the trees. Their lofty trunks stood so close together， that， when she looked before her， it seemed as if she were enclosed within trellis-work. Such solitude she had never known before. The night was very dark. Not a single glow-worm glittered in the moss.

Sorrowfully she laid herself down to sleep; and， after a while， it seemed to her as if the branches of the trees parted over her head， and that the mild eyes of angels looked down upon her from heaven. When she awoke in the morning， she knew not whether she had dreamt this， or if it had really been so. Then she continued her wandering; but she had not gone many steps forward， when she met an old woman with berries in her basket， and she gave her a few to eat. Then Eliza asked her if she had not seen eleven princes riding through the forest.

“No，” replied the old woman， “But I saw yesterday eleven swans， with gold crowns on their heads， swimming on the river close by.” Then she led Eliza a little distance farther to a sloping bank， and at the foot of it wound a little river. The trees on its banks stretched their long leafy branches across the water towards each other， and where the growth prevented them from meeting naturally， the roots had torn themselves away from the ground， so that the branches might mingle their foliage as they hung over the water. Eliza bade the old woman farewell， and walked by the flowing river， till she reached the shore of the open sea. And there， before the young maiden's eyes， lay the glorious ocean， but not a sail appeared on its surface， not even a boat could be seen. How was she to go farther? She noticed how the countless pebbles on the sea-shore had been smoothed and rounded by the action of the water. Glass， iron， stones， everything that lay there mingled together， had taken its shape from the same power， and felt as smooth， or even smoother than her own delicate hand. “The water rolls on without weariness，” she said， “till all that is hard becomes smooth; so will I be unwearied in my task. Thanks for your lessons， bright rolling waves; my heart tells me you will lead me to my dear brothers.” On the foam-covered sea-weeds， lay eleven white swan feathers， which she gathered up and placed together. Drops of water lay upon them; whether they were dew-drops or tears no one could say. Lonely as it was on the sea-shore， she did not observe it， for the ever-moving sea showed more changes in a few hours than the most varying lake could produce during a whole year. If a black heavy cloud arose， it was as if the sea said， “I can look dark and angry too;” and then the wind blew， and the waves turned to white foam as they rolled. When the wind slept， and the clouds glowed with the red sunlight， then the sea looked like a rose leaf. But however quietly its white glassy surface rested， there was still a motion on the shore， as its waves rose and fell like the breast of a sleeping child. When the sun was about to set， Eliza saw eleven white swans with golden crowns on their heads， flying towards the land， one behind the other， like a long white ribbon. Then Eliza went down the slope from the shore， and hid herself behind the bushes. The swans alighted quite close to her and flapped their great white wings. As soon as the sun had disappeared under the water， the feathers of the swans fell off， and eleven beautiful princes， Eliza's brothers， stood near her. She uttered a loud cry， for， although they were very much changed， she knew them immediately. She sprang into their arms， and called them each by name. Then， how happy the princes were at meeting their little sister again， for they recognized her， although she had grown so tall and beautiful. They laughed， and they wept， and very soon understood how wickedly their mother had acted to them all. “We brothers，” said the eldest， “fly about as wild swans， so long as the sun is in the sky; but as soon as it sinks behind the hills， we recover our human shape. Therefore must we always be near a resting place for our feet before sunset; for if we should be flying towards the clouds at the time we recovered our natural shape as men， we should sink deep into the sea. We do not dwell here， but in a land just as fair， that lies beyond the ocean， which we have to cross for a long distance; there is no island in our passage upon which we could pass， the night; nothing but a little rock rising out of the sea， upon which we can scarcely stand with safety， even closely crowded together. If the sea is rough， the foam dashes over us， yet we thank God even for this rock; we have passed whole nights upon it， or we should never have reached our beloved fatherland， for our flight across the sea occupies two of the longest days in the year. We have permission to visit out home once in every year， and to remain eleven days， during which we fly across the forest to look once more at the palace where our father dwells， and where we were born， and at the church， where our mother lies buried. Here it seems as if the very trees and bushes were related to us. The wild horses leap over the plains as we have seen them in our childhood. The charcoal burners sing the old songs， to which we have danced as children. This is our fatherland， to which we are drawn by loving ties; and here we have found you， our dear little sister. Two days longer we can remain here， and then must we fly away to a beautiful land which is not our home; and how can we take you with us? We have neither ship nor boat.”

“How can I break this spell?” said their sister. And then she talked about it nearly the whole night， only slumbering for a few hours. Eliza was awakened by the rustling of the swans' wings as they soared above. Her brothers were again changed to swans， and they flew in circles wider and wider， till they were far away; but one of them， the youngest swan， remained behind， and laid his head in his sister's lap， while she stroked his wings; and they remained together the whole day. Towards evening， the rest came back， and as the sun went down they resumed their natural forms. “To-morrow，” said one， “we shall fly away， not to return again till a whole year has passed. But we cannot leave you here. Have you courage to go with us? My arm is strong enough to carry you through the wood; and will not all our wings be strong enough to fly with you over the sea?”

“Yes， take me with you，” said Eliza. Then they spent the whole night in weaving a net with the pliant willow and rushes. It was very large and strong. Eliza laid herself down on the net， and when the sun rose， and her brothers again became wild swans， they took up the net with their beaks， and flew up to the clouds with their dear sister， who still slept. The sunbeams fell on her face， therefore one of the swans soared over her head， so that his broad wings might shade her. They were far from the land when Eliza woke. She thought she must still be dreaming， it seemed so strange to her to feel herself being carried so high in the air over the sea. By her side lay a branch full of beautiful ripe berries， and a bundle of sweet roots; the youngest of her brothers had gathered them for her， and placed them by her side. She smiled her thanks to him; she knew it was the same who had hovered over her to shade her with his wings. They were now so high， that a large ship beneath them looked like a white sea-gull skimming the waves. A great cloud floating behind them appeared like a vast mountain， and upon it Eliza saw her own shadow and those of the eleven swans， looking gigantic in size. Altogether it formed a more beautiful picture than she had ever seen; but as the sun rose higher， and the clouds were left behind， the shadowy picture vanished away. Onward the whole day they flew through the air like a winged arrow， yet more slowly than usual， for they had their sister to carry. The weather seemed inclined to be stormy， and Eliza watched the sinking sun with great anxiety， for the little rock in the ocean was not yet in sight. It appeared to her as if the swans were making great efforts with their wings. Alas! she was the cause of their not advancing more quickly. When the sun set， they would change to men， fall into the sea and be drowned. Then she offered a prayer from her inmost heart， but still no appearance of the rock. Dark clouds came nearer， the gusts of wind told of a coming storm， while from a thick， heavy mass of clouds the lightning burst forth flash after flash. The sun had reached the edge of the sea， when the swans darted down so swiftly， that Eliza's head trembled; she believed they were falling， but they again soared onward. Presently she caught sight of the rock just below them， and by this time the sun was half hidden by the waves. The rock did not appear larger than a seal's head thrust out of the water. They sunk so rapidly， that at the moment their feet touched the rock， it shone only like a star， and at last disappeared like the last spark in a piece of burnt paper. Then she saw her brothers standing closely round her with their arms linked together. There was but just room enough for them， and not the smallest space to spare. The sea dashed against the rock， and covered them with spray. The heavens were lighted up with continual flashes， and peal after peal of thunder rolled. But the sister and brothers sat holding each other's hands， and singing hymns， from which they gained hope and courage. In the early dawn the air became calm and still， and at sunrise the swans flew away from the rock with Eliza. The sea was still rough， and from their high position in the air， the white foam on the dark green waves looked like millions of swans swimming on the water. As the sun rose higher， Eliza saw before her， floating on the air， a range of mountains， with shining masses of ice on their summits. In the centre， rose a castle apparently a mile long， with rows of columns， rising one above another， while， around it， palm-trees waved and flowers bloomed as large as mill wheels. She asked if this was the land to which they were hastening. The swans shook their heads， for what she beheld were the beautiful ever-changing cloud palaces of the “Fata Morgana，” into which no mortal can enter. Eliza was still gazing at the scene， when mountains， forests， and castles melted away， and twenty stately churches rose in their stead， with high towers and pointed gothic windows. Eliza even fancied she could hear the tones of the organ， but it was the music of the murmuring sea which she heard. As they drew nearer to the churches， they also changed into a fleet of ships， which seemed to be sailing beneath her; but as she looked again， she found it was only a sea mist gliding over the ocean. So there continued to pass before her eyes a constant change of scene， till at last she saw the real land to which they were bound， with its blue mountains， its cedar forests， and its cities and palaces. Long before the sun went down， she sat on a rock， in front of a large cave， on the floor of which the over-grown yet delicate green creeping plants looked like an embroidered carpet. “Now we shall expect to hear what you dream of to-night，” said the youngest brother， as he showed his sister her bedroom.

“Heaven grant that I may dream how to save you，” she replied. And this thought took such hold upon her mind that she prayed earnestly to God for help， and even in her sleep she continued to pray. Then it appeared to her as if she were flying high in the air， towards the cloudy palace of the “Fata Morgana，” and a fairy came out to meet her， radiant and beautiful in appearance， and yet very much like the old woman who had given her berries in the wood， and who had told her of the swans with golden crowns on their heads. “Your brothers can be released，” said she， “if you have only courage and perseverance. True， water is softer than your own delicate hands， and yet it polishes stones into shapes; it feels no pain as your fingers would feel， it has no soul， and cannot suffer such agony and torment as you will have to endure. Do you see the stinging nettle which I hold in my hand? Quantities of the same sort grow round the cave in which you sleep， but none will be of any use to you unless they grow upon the graves in a churchyard. These you must gather even while they burn blisters on your hands. Break them to pieces with your hands and feet， and they will become flax， from which you must spin and weave eleven coats with long sleeves; if these are then thrown over the eleven swans， the spell will be broken. But remember， that from the moment you commence your task until it is finished， even should it occupy years of your life， you must not speak. The first word you utter will pierce through the hearts of your brothers like a deadly dagger. Their lives hang upon your tongue. Remember all I have told you.” And as she finished speaking， she touched her hand lightly with the nettle， and a pain， as of burning fire， awoke Eliza.

It was broad daylight， and close by where she had been sleeping lay a nettle like the one she had seen in her dream. She fell on her knees and offered her thanks to God. Then she went forth from the cave to begin her work with her delicate hands. She groped in amongst the ugly nettles， which burnt great blisters on her hands and arms， but she determined to bear it gladly if she could only release her dear brothers. So she bruised the nettles with her bare feet and spun the flax. At sunset her brothers returned and were very much frightened when they found her dumb. They believed it to be some new sorcery of their wicked step-mother. But when they saw her hands they understood what she was doing on their behalf， and the youngest brother wept， and where his tears fell the pain ceased， and the burning blisters vanished. She kept to her work all night， for she could not rest till she had released her dear brothers. During the whole of the following day， while her brothers were absent， she sat in solitude， but never before had the time flown so quickly. One coat was already finished and she had begun the second， when she heard the huntsman's horn， and was struck with fear. The sound came nearer and nearer， she heard the dogs barking， and fled with terror into the cave. She hastily bound together the nettles she had gathered into a bundle and sat upon them. Immediately a great dog came bounding towards her out of the ravine， and then another and another; they barked loudly， ran back， and then came again. In a very few minutes all the huntsmen stood before the cave， and the handsomest of them was the king of the country. He advanced towards her， for he had never seen a more beautiful maiden.

“How did you come here， my sweet child?” he asked. But Eliza shook her head. She dared not speak， at the cost of her brothers' lives. And she hid her hands under her apron， so that the king might not see how she must be suffering.

“Come with me，” he said; “here you cannot remain. If you are as good as you are beautiful， I will dress you in silk and velvet， I will place a golden crown upon your head， and you shall dwell， and rule， and make your home in my richest castle.” And then he lifted her on his horse. She wept and wrung her hands， but the king said， “I wish only for your happiness. A time will come when you will thank me for this.” And then he galloped away over the mountains， holding her before him on this horse， and the hunters followed behind them. As the sun went down， they approached a fair royal city， with churches， and cupolas. On arriving at the castle the king led her into marble halls， where large fountains played， and where the walls and the ceilings were covered with rich paintings. But she had no eyes for all these glorious sights， she could only mourn and weep. Patiently she allowed the women to array her in royal robes， to weave pearls in her hair， and draw soft gloves over her blistered fingers. As she stood before them in all her rich dress， she looked so dazzingly beautiful that the court bowed low in her presence. Then the king declared his intention of making her his bride， but the archbishop shook his head， and whispered that the fair young maiden was only a witch who had blinded the king's eyes and bewitched his heart. But the king would not listen to this; he ordered the music to sound， the daintiest dishes to be served， and the loveliest maidens to dance. After-wards he led her through fragrant gardens and lofty halls， but not a smile appeared on her lips or sparkled in her eyes. She looked the very picture of grief. Then the king opened the door of a little chamber in which she was to sleep; it was adorned with rich green tapestry， and resembled the cave in which he had found her. On the floor lay the bundle of flax which she had spun from the nettles， and under the ceiling hung the coat she had made. These things had been brought away from the cave as curiosities by one of the huntsmen.

“Here you can dream yourself back again in the old home in the cave，” said the king; “here is the work with which you employed yourself. It will amuse you now in the midst of all this splendor to think of that time.”

When Eliza saw all these things which lay so near her heart， a smile played around her mouth， and the crimson blood rushed to her cheeks. She thought of her brothers， and their release made her so joyful that she kissed the king's hand. Then he pressed her to his heart. Very soon the joyous church bells announced the marriage feast， and that the beautiful dumb girl out of the wood was to be made the queen of the country. Then the archbishop whispered wicked words in the king's ear， but they did not sink into his heart. The marriage was still to take place， and the archbishop himself had to place the crown on the bride's head; in his wicked spite， he pressed the narrow circlet so tightly on her forehead that it caused her pain. But a heavier weight encircled her heart—sorrow for her brothers. She felt not bodily pain. Her mouth was closed; a single word would cost the lives of her brothers. But she loved the kind， handsome king， who did everything to make her happy more and more each day; she loved him with all her heart， and her eyes beamed with the love she dared not speak. Oh! if she had only been able to confide in him and tell him of her grief. But dumb she must remain till her task was finished. Therefore at night she crept away into her little chamber， which had been decked out to look like the cave， and quickly wove one coat after another. But when she began the seventh she found she had no more flax. She knew that the nettles she wanted to use grew in the churchyard， and that she must pluck them herself. How should she get out there? “Oh， what is the pain in my fingers to the torment which my heart endures?” said she. “I must venture， I shall not be denied help from heaven.” Then with a trembling heart， as if she were about to perform a wicked deed， she crept into the garden in the broad moonlight， and passed through the narrow walks and the deserted streets， till she reached the churchyard. Then she saw on one of the broad tombstones a group of ghouls. These hideous creatures took off their rags， as if they intended to bathe， and then clawing open the fresh graves with their long， skinny fingers， pulled out the dead bodies and ate the flesh! Eliza had to pass close by them， and they fixed their wicked glances upon her， but she prayed silently， gathered the burning nettles， and carried them home with her to the castle. One person only had seen her， and that was the archbishop—he was awake while everybody was asleep. Now he thought his opinion was evidently correct. All was not right with the queen. She was a witch， and had bewitched the king and all the people. Secretly he told the king what he had seen and what he feared， and as the hard words came from his tongue， the carved images of the saints shook their heads as if they would say. “It is not so. Eliza is innocent.”

But the archbishop interpreted it in another way; he believed that they witnessed against her， and were shaking their heads at her wickedness. Two large tears rolled down the king's cheeks， and he went home with doubt in his heart， and at night he pretended to sleep， but there came no real sleep to his eyes， for he saw Eliza get up every night and disappear in her own chamber. From day to day his brow became darker， and Eliza saw it and did not understand the reason， but it alarmed her and made her heart tremble for her brothers. Her hot tears glittered like pearls on the regal velvet and diamonds， while all who saw her were wishing they could be queens. In the mean time she had almost finished her task; only one coat of mail was wanting， but she had no flax left， and not a single nettle. Once more only， and for the last time， must she venture to the churchyard and pluck a few handfuls. She thought with terror of the solitary walk， and of the horrible ghouls， but her will was firm， as well as her trust in Providence. Eliza went， and the king and the archbishop followed her. They saw her vanish through the wicket gate into the churchyard， and when they came nearer they saw the ghouls sitting on the tombstone， as Eliza had seen them， and the king turned away his head， for he thought she was with them—she whose head had rested on his breast that very evening. “The people must condemn her，” said he， and she was very quickly condemned by every one to suffer death by fire. Away from the gorgeous regal halls was she led to a dark， dreary cell， where the wind whistled through the iron bars. Instead of the velvet and silk dresses， they gave her the coats of mail which she had woven to cover her， and the bundle of nettles for a pillow; but nothing they could give her would have pleased her more. She continued her task with joy， and prayed for help， while the street-boys sang jeering songs about her， and not a soul comforted her with a kind word. Towards evening， she heard at the grating the flutter of a swan's wing， it was her youngest brother—he had found his sister， and she sobbed for joy， although she knew that very likely this would be the last night she would have to live. But still she could hope， for her task was almost finished， and her brothers were come. Then the archbishop arrived， to be with her during her last hours， as he had promised the king. But she shook her head， and begged him， by looks and gestures， not to stay; for in this night she knew she must finish her task， otherwise all her pain and tears and sleepless nights would have been suffered in vain. The archbishop withdrew， uttering bitter words against her; but poor Eliza knew that she was innocent， and diligently continued her work.

The little mice ran about the floor， they dragged the nettles to her feet， to help as well as they could; and the thrush sat outside the grating of the window， and sang to her the whole night long， as sweetly as possible， to keep up her spirits.

It was still twilight， and at least an hour before sunrise， when the eleven brothers stood at the castle gate， and demanded to be brought before the king. They were told it could not be， it was yet almost night， and as the king slept they dared not disturb him. They threatened， they entreated. Then the guard appeared， and even the king himself， inquiring what all the noise meant. At this moment the sun rose. The eleven brothers were seen no more， but eleven wild swans flew away over the castle.

And now all the people came streaming forth from the gates of the city， to see the witch burnt. An old horse drew the cart on which she sat. They had dressed her in a garment of coarse sackcloth. Her lovely hair hung loose on her shoulders， her cheeks were deadly pale， her lips moved silently， while her fingers still worked at the green flax. Even on the way to death， she would not give up her task. The ten coats of mail lay at her feet， she was working hard at the eleventh， while the mob jeered her and said， “See the witch， how she mutters! She has no hymn-book in her hand. She sits there with her ugly sorcery. Let us tear it in a thousand pieces.”

And then they pressed towards her， and would have destroyed the coats of mail， but at the same moment eleven wild swans flew over her， and alighted on the cart. Then they flapped their large wings， and the crowd drew on one side in alarm.

“It is a sign from heaven that she is innocent，” whispered many of them; but they ventured not to say it aloud.

As the executioner seized her by the hand， to lift her out of the cart， she hastily threw the eleven coats of mail over the swans， and they immediately became eleven handsome princes; but the youngest had a swan's wing， instead of an arm; for she had not been able to finish the last sleeve of the coat.

“Now I may speak，” she exclaimed. “I am innocent.”

Then the people， who saw what happened， bowed to her， as before a saint; but she sank lifeless in her brothers' arms， overcome with suspense， anguish， and pain.

“Yes， she is innocent，” said the eldest brother; and then he related all that had taken place; and while he spoke there rose in the air a fragrance as from millions of roses. Every piece of faggot in the pile had taken root， and threw out branches， and appeared a thick hedge， large and high， covered with roses; while above all bloomed a white and shining flower， that glittered like a star. This flower the king plucked， and placed in Eliza's bosom， when she awoke from her swoon， with peace and happiness in her heart. And all the church bells rang of themselves， and the birds came in great troops. And a marriage procession returned to the castle， such as no king had ever before seen.

The Ugly Duckling

The country was very lovely just then—it was summer. The wheat was golden and the oats still green. The hay was stacked in the rich low meadows，where the stork marched about on his long red legs，chattering in Egyptian，the language his mother had taught him.

Round about field and meadow lay great woods，in the midst of which were deep lakes. Yes，the country certainly was lovely. In the sunniest spot stood an old mansion surrounded by a deep moat，and great dock leaves grew from the walls of the house right down to the water's edge. Some of them were so tall that a small child could stand upright under them. In among the leaves it was as secluded as in the depths of a forest，and there a duck was sitting on her nest. Her little ducklings were just about to be hatched，but she was quite tired of sitting，for it had lasted such a long time. Moreover，she had very few visitors，as the other ducks liked swimming about in the moat better than waddling up to sit under the dock leaves and gossip with her.

At last one egg after another began to crack.“Cheep，cheep！”they said. All the chicks had come to life and were poking their heads out.

“Quack，quack！”said the duck，and then they all quacked their hardest and looked about them on all sides among the green leaves. Their mother allowed them to look as much as they liked，for green is good for the eyes.

“How big the world is，to be sure！”said all the young ones. They certainly now had ever so much more room to move about than when they were inside their eggshells.

“Do you imagine this is the whole world？”said the mother.“It stretches a long way on the other side of the garden，right into the parson's field，though I have never been as far as that. I suppose you are all here now？”She got up and looked about.“No，I declare I have not got you all yet！The biggest egg is still there. How long is this going to take？”she said，and settled herself on the nest again.

“Well，how are you getting on？”said an old duck who had come to pay her a visit.

“This one egg is taking such a long time！”answered the sitting duck. “The shell will not crack. But now you must look at the others. They are the finest ducklings I have ever seen. They are all exactly like their father，the rascal！—yet he never comes to see me.”

“Let me look at the egg which won't crack，”said the old duck.“You may be sure that it is a turkey's egg！I was cheated like that once and I had no end of trouble and worry with the creatures，for I may tell you that they are afraid of the water. I simply could not get them into it. I quacked and snapped at them，but it all did no good. Let me see the egg！Yes，it is a turkey's egg. You just leave it alone，and teach the other children to swim.”

“I will sit on it a little longer. I have sat so long already that I may as well go on till the Midsummer Fair comes round.”

“Please yourself，”said the old duck，and away she went.

At last the big egg cracked.“Cheep，cheep！”said the young one and tumbled out. How big and ugly he was！The duck looked at him.

“That is a monstrous big duckling，”she said.“None of the others looked like that. Can he be a turkey chick？Well，we shall soon find that out. Into the water he shall go，if I have to kick him in myself.”

The next day was gloriously fine，and the sun shone on all the green dock leaves. The mother duck with her whole family went down to the moat.

Splash！into the water she sprang.“Quack，quack，”she said，and one duckling after another plumped in. The water dashed over their heads，but they came up again and floated beautifully. Their legs went of themselves，and they were all there. Even the big ugly gray one swam about with them.

“No，that is no turkey，”she said. “See how beautifully he uses his legs and how erect he holds himself. He is my own chick，after all，and not bad looking when you come to look at him properly. Quack，quack！Now come with me and I will take you out into the world and introduce you to the duckyard. But keep close to me all the time so that no one may tread upon you. And beware of the cat！”

Then they went into the duckyard. There was a fearful uproar going on，for two broods were fighting for the head of an eel，and in the end the cat captured it.

“That's how things go in this world，”said the mother duck. She licked her bill，because she wanted the eel's head herself.

“Now use your legs，”said she. “Mind you quack properly，and bend your necks to the old duck over there. She is the grandest of us all. She has Spanish blood in her veins and that accounts for her size. And do you see？She has a red rag round her leg. That is a wonderfully fine thing，and the most extraordinary mark of distinction any duck can have. It shows clearly that she is not to be parted with，and that she is worthy of recognition both by beasts and men！Quack，now！Don't turn your toes in！A well-brought-up duckling keeps his legs wide apart just like father and mother. That's it. Now bend your necks and say quack！”

They did as they were bid，but the other ducks round about looked at them and said，quite loud，“Just look there！Now we are to have that tribe，just as if there were not enough of us already. And，oh dear，how ugly that duckling is！We won't stand him.”And a duck flew at him at once and bit him in the neck.

“Let him be，”said the mother.“He is doing no harm.”

“Very likely not，”said the biter.“But he is so ungainly and queer that he must be whacked.”

“Those are handsome children mother has，”said the old duck with the rag round her leg.“They are all good looking except this one. He is not a good specimen. It's a pity you can't make him over again.”

“That can't be done，your grace，”said the mother duck.“He is not handsome，but he is a thoroughly good creature，and he swims as beautifully as any of the others. I think I might venture even to add that I think he will improve as he goes on，or perhaps in time he may grow smaller. He was too long in the egg，and so he has not come out with a very good figure.”And then she patted his neck and stroked him down.“Besides，he is a drake，”said she. “So it does not matter so much. I believe he will be very strong，and I don't doubt but he will make his way in the world.”

“The other ducklings are very pretty，”said the old duck.“Now make yourselves quite at home，and if you find the head of an eel you may bring it to me.”

After that they felt quite at home. But the poor duckling which had been the last to come out of the shell，and who was so ugly，was bitten，pushed about，and made fun of by both the ducks and the hens.“He is too big，”they all said. And the turkey cock，who was born with his spurs on and therefore thought himself quite an emperor，puffed himself up like a vessel in full sail，made for him，and gobbled and gobbled till he became quite red in the face. The poor duckling was at his wit's end，and did not know which way to turn. He was in despair because he was so ugly and the butt of the whole duckyard.

So the first day passed，and afterwards matters grew worse and worse. The poor duckling was chased and hustled by all of them. Even his brothers and sisters illused him. They were always saying，“If only the cat would get hold of you，you hideous object！”Even his mother said，“I wish to goodness you were miles away.”The ducks bit him，the hens pecked him，and the girl who fed them kicked him aside.

Then he ran off and flew right over the hedge，where the little birds flew up into the air in a fright.

“That is because I am so ugly，”thought the poor duckling，shutting his eyes，but he ran on all the same. Then he came to a great marsh where the wild ducks lived. He was so tired and miserable that he stayed there the whole night. In the morning the wild ducks flew up to inspect their new comrade.

“What sort of a creature are you？”they inquired，as the duckling turned from side to side and greeted them as well as he could.“You are frightfully ugly，”said the wild ducks，“but that does not matter to us，so long as you do not marry into our family.”Poor fellow！He had not thought of marriage. All he wanted was permission to lie among the rushes and to drink a little of the marsh water.

He stayed there two whole days. Then two wild geese came，or rather two wild ganders. They were not long out of the shell and therefore rather pert.

“I say，comrade，”they said，“you are so ugly that we have taken quite a fancy to you！Will you join us and be a bird of passage？There is another marsh close by，and there are some charming wild geese there. All are sweet young ladies who can say quack！You are ugly enough to make your fortune among them.”Just at that moment，bang！bang！was heard up above，and both the wild geese fell dead among the reeds，and the water turned blood red. Bang！bang！went the guns，and whole flocks of wild geese flew up from the rushes and the shots peppered among them again.

There was a grand shooting party，and the sportsmen lay hidden round the marsh. Some even sat on the branches of the trees which overhung the water. The blue smoke rose like clouds among the dark trees and swept over the pool.

The retrieving dogs wandered about in the swamp—splash！splash！The rushes and reeds bent beneath their tread on all sides. It was terribly alarming to the poor duckling. He twisted his head round to get it under his wing，and just at that moment a frightful big dog appeared close beside him. His tongue hung right out of his mouth and his eyes glared wickedly. He opened his great chasm of a mouth close to the duckling，showed his sharp teeth，and—splash！—went on without touching him.

“Oh，thank Heaven！”sighed the duckling. “I am so ugly that even the dog won't bite me！”

Then he lay quite still while the shots whistled among the bushes，and bang after bang rent the air. Late in the day the noise ceased，but even then the poor duckling did not dare to get up. He waited several hours more before he looked about，and then he hurried away from the marsh as fast as he could. He ran across fields and meadows，and there was such a wind that he had hard work to make his way.

Towards night he reached a poor little cottage. It was such a miserable hovel that it remained standing only because it could not make up its mind which way to fall. The wind whistled so fiercely round the duckling that he had to sit on his tail to resist it，and it blew harder and ever harder. Then he saw that the door had fallen off one hinge and hung so crookedly that he could creep into the house through the crack，and by this means he made his way into the room.

An old woman lived here with her cat and her hen. The cat，whom she called “Sonnie，”could arch his back，purr，and even give off sparks，though for that you had to stroke his fur the wrong way. The hen had quite tiny short legs，and so she was called“Chickie-low-legs. ”She laid good eggs，and the old woman was as fond of her as if she had been her own child.

In the morning the strange duckling was discovered immediately，and the cat began to purr and the hen to cluck.

“What on earth is that？”said the old woman，looking round，but her sight was not good and she thought the duckling was a fat duck which had escaped. “This is a wonderful find！”said she. “Now I shall have duck's eggs—if only it is not a drake. We must wait and see about that.”

So she took the duckling on trial for three weeks，but no eggs made their appearance. The cat was master of this house and the hen its mistress. They always said“We and the world，”for they thought that they represented the half of the world，and that quite the better half.

The duckling thought there might be two opinions on the subject，but the cat would not hear of it.

“Can you lay eggs？”she asked.

“No.”

“Have the goodness to hold your tongue then！”

And the cat said，“Can you arch your back，purr，or give off sparks？”

“No.”

“Then you had better keep your opinions to yourself when people of sense are speaking！”

The duckling sat in the corner nursing his ill humor. Then he began to think of the fresh air and the sunshine，and an uncontrollable longing seized him to float on the water. At last he could not help telling the hen about it.

“What on earth possesses you？”she asked. “You have nothing to do. That is why you get these freaks into your head. Lay some eggs or take to purring，and you will get over it.”

“But it is so delicious to float on the water，”said the duckling. “It is so delicious to feel it rushing over your head when you dive to the bottom.”

“That would be a fine amusement！”said the hen.“I think you have gone mad. Ask the cat about it. He is the wisest creature I know. Ask him if he is fond of floating on the water or diving under it. I say nothing about myself. Ask our mistress herself，the old woman. There is no one in the world cleverer than she is. Do you suppose she has any desire to float on the water or to duck underneath it？”

“You do not understand me，”said the duckling.

“Well，if we don't understand you，who should？I suppose you don't consider yourself cleverer than the cat or the old woman，not to mention me！Don't make a fool of yourself，child，and thank your stars for all the good we have done you. Have you not lived in this warm room，and in such society that you might have learned something？But you are an idiot，and there is no pleasure in associating with you. You may believe me：I mean you well. I tell you home truths，and there is no surer way than that of knowing who are one's friends. You just set about laying some eggs，or learn to purr，or to emit sparks.”

“I think I will go out into the wide world，”said the duckling.

“Oh，do so by all means，”said the hen.

So away went the duckling. He floated on the water and ducked underneath it，but he was looked askance at and slighted by every living creature for his ugliness. Now the autumn came on. The leaves in the woods turned yellow and brown. The wind took hold of them，and they danced about. The sky looked very cold and the clouds hung heavy with snow and hail. A raven stood on the fence and croaked，“Caw，caw！”from sheer cold. It made one shiver only to think of it. The poor duckling certainly was in a bad case！

One evening，the sun was just setting in wintry splendor when a flock of beautiful large birds appeared out of the bushes. The duckling had never seen anything so beautiful. They were dazzlingly white with long waving necks. They were swans，and uttering a peculiar cry they spread out their magnificent broad wings and flew away from the cold regions to warmer lands and open seas. They mounted so high，so very high，and the ugly little duckling became strangely uneasy. He circled round and round in the water like a wheel，craning his neck up into the air after them. Then he uttered a shriek so piercing and so strange that he was quite frightened by it himself. Oh，he could not forget those beautiful birds，those happy birds. And as soon as they were out of sight he ducked right down to the bottom，and when he came up again he was quite beside himself. He did not know what the birds were，or whither they flew，but all the same he was more drawn towards them than he had ever been by any creatures before. He did not envy them in the least. How could it occur to him even to wish to be such a marvel of beauty？He would have been thankful if only the ducks would have tolerated him among them—the poor ugly creature.

The winter was so bitterly cold that the duckling was obliged to swim about in the water to keep it from freezing over，but every night the hole in which he swam got smaller and smaller. Then it froze so hard that the surface ice cracked，and the duckling had to use his legs all the time so that the ice should not freeze around him. At last he was so weary that he could move no more，and he was frozen fast into the ice.

Early in the morning a peasant came along and saw him. He went out onto the ice and hammered a hole in it with his heavy wooden shoe，and carried the duckling home to his wife. There he soon revived. The children wanted to play with him，but the duckling thought they were going to ill-use him，and rushed in his fright into the milk pan，and the milk spurted out all over the room. The woman shrieked andthrew up her hands. Then he flew into the butter cask，and down into the meal tub and out again. Just imagine what he looked like by this time！The woman screamed and tried to hit him with the fire tongs. The children tumbled over one another in trying to catch him，and they screamed with laughter. By good luck the door stood open，and the duckling flew out among the bushes and the newly fallen snow. And he lay there thoroughly exhausted.

But it would be too sad to mention all the privation and misery he had to go through during the hard winter. When the sun began to shine warmly again，the duckling was in the marsh，lying among the rushes. The larks were singing and the beautiful spring had come.

Then all at once he raised his wings and they flapped with much greater strength than before and bore him off vigorously. Before he knew where he was，he found himself in a large garden where the apple trees were in full blossom and the air was scented with lilacs，long branches of which overhung the indented shores of the lake. Oh，the spring freshness was delicious！

Just in front of him he saw three beautiful white swans advancing towards him from a thicket. With rustling feathers they swam lightly over the water. The duckling recognized the majestic birds，and he was overcome by a strange melancholy.

“I will fly to them，the royal birds，and they will hack me to pieces because I，who am so ugly，venture to approach them. But it won't matter！Better be killed by them than be snapped at by the ducks，pecked by the hens，spurned by the henwife，or suffer so much misery in the winter. ”

So he flew into the water and swam towards the stately swans. They saw him and darted towards him with rufflted feathers.

“Kill me！”said the poor creature，and he bowed his head towards the water and awaited his death. But what did he see reflected in the transparent water？

He saw below him his own image，but he was no longer a clumsy dark gray bird，ugly and ungainly. He was himself a swan！It does not matter in the least having been born in a duckyard，if only you come out of a swan's egg！

He felt quite glad of all the misery and tribulation he had gone through，for he was the better able to appreciate his good fortune now and all the beauty which greeted him. The big swans swam round and round him and stroked him with their bills.

Some little children came into the garden with corn and pieces of bread which they threw into the water，and the smallest one cried out，“There is a new one！”The other children shouted with joy，“Yes，a new one has come. ”And they clapped their hands and danced about，running after their father and mother. They threw the bread into the water，and one and all said，“The new one is the prettiest of them all. He is so young and handsome. ”And the old swans bent their heads and did homage before him.

He felt quite shy，and hid his head under his wing. He did not know what to think. He was very happy，but not at all proud，for a good heart never becomes proud. He thought of how he had been pursued and scorned，and now he heard them all say that he was the most beautiful of all beautiful birds. The lilacs bent their boughs right down into the water before him，and the bright sun was warm and cheering. He rustled his feathers and raised his slender neck aloft，saying with exultation in his heart，“I never dreamt of so much happiness when I was the Ugly Duckling！”

The Little Match Girl

It was late on a bitterly cold New Year's Eve. The snow was falling. A poor little girl was wandering in the dark cold streets；she was bareheaded and barefoot. She had of course had slippers on when she left home，but they were not much good，for they were so huge. They had last been worn by her mother，and they fell off the poor little girl's feet when she was running across the street to avoid two carriages that were rolling rapidly by. One of the shoes could not be found at all，and the other was picked up by a boy who ran off with it，saying that it would do for a cradle when he had some children of his own.

So the poor little girl had to walk on with her little bare feet，which were red and blue with the cold. She carried a quantity of matches in her old apron，and held a packet of them in her hand.

Nobody had bought any of her during all the long day，and nobody had even given her a copper. The poor little creature was hungry and perishing with cold，and she looked the picture of misery.

The snowflakes fell on her long yellow hair，which curled so prettily round her face，but she paid no attention to that. Lights were shining from every window，and there was a most delicious odor of roast goose in the streets，for it was New Year's Eve. She could not forget that！She found a corner where one house projected a little beyond the next one，and here she crouched，drawing up her feet under her，but she was colder than ever. She did not dare to go home，for she had not sold any matches and had not earned a single penny. Her father would beat her，and besides it was almost as cold at home as it was here. They had only the roof over them，and the wind whistled through it although they stuffed up the biggest cracks with rags and straw.

Her little hands were almost dead with cold. Oh，one little match would do some good！ If she only dared，she would pull one out of the packet and strike it on the wall to warm her fingers. She pulled out one. R-r-sh-sh！ How it sputtered and blazed！It burnt with a bright clear flame，just like a little candle，when she held her hand round it.

Now the light seemed very strange to her！The little girl fancied that she was sitting in front of a big stove with polished brass feet and handles. There was a splendid fire blazing in it and warming her so beautifully，but—what happened？ Just as she was stretching out her feet to warm them，the flame went out，the stove vanished—and she was left sitting with the end of the burnt match in her hand.

She struck a new one. It burnt，it blazed up，and where the light fell upon the wall，it became transparent like gauze，and she could see right through it into the room.

The table was spread with a snowy cloth and pretty china. A roast goose stuffed with apples and prunes was steaming on it. And what was even better，the goose hopped from the dish with the carving knife sticking in his back and waddled across the floor. It came right up to the poor child，and then—the match went out，and there was nothing to be seen but the thick black wall.

She lit another match. This time she was sitting under a lovely Christmas tree. It was much bigger and more beautifully decorated than the one she had seen when she peeped through the glass doors at the rich merchant's house on the last Christmas. Thousandsoflightedcandles gleamed under its branches. And colored pictures，such as she had seen in the shop windows，looked down at her. The little girl stretched out both her hands towards them—then out went the match. All the Christmas candles rose higher and higher，till she saw that they were only the twinkling stars. One of them fell and made a bright streak of light across the sky.

“Now someone is dying，”thought the little girl，for her old grandmother，the only person who had ever been kind to her，used to say，“When a star falls，a soul is going up to God. ”

Now she struck another match against the wall，and this time it was her grandmother who appeared in the circle of flame. She saw her quite clearly and distinctly，looking so gentle and happy.

“Grandmother！”cried the little creature. “Oh，do take me with you. I know you will vanish when the match goes out. You will vanish like the warm stove，the delicious goose，and the beautiful Christmas tree！”

She hastily struck a whole bundle of matches，because she did so long to keep her grandmother with her. The light of the matches made it as bright as day. Grandmother had never before looked so big or so beautiful. She lifted the little girl up in her arms，and they soared in a halo of light and joy，far，far above the earth，where there was no more cold，no hunger，and no pain—for they were with God.

In the cold morning light the poor little girl sat there，in the corner between the houses，with rosy cheeks and a smile on her face—dead. Frozen to death on the last night of the old year. New Year's Day broke on the little body still sitting with the ends of the burnt-out matches in her hand.

“She must have tried to warm herself，”they said. Nobody knew what beautiful visions she had seen，nor in what a halo she had entered with her grandmother upon the glories of the New Year.

Little Claus and Big Claus

In a village there once lived two men who had the same name. They were both called Claus. One of them had four horses， but the other had only one; so to distinguish them， people called the owner of the four horses， “Great Claus，” and he who had only one， “Little Claus.” Now we shall hear what happened to them， for this is a true story.

Through the whole week， Little Claus was obliged to plough for Great Claus， and lend him his one horse; and once a week， on a Sunday， Great Claus lent him all his four horses. Then how Little Claus would smack his whip over all five horses， they were as good as his own on that one day. The sun shone brightly， and the church bells were ringing merrily as the people passed by， dressed in their best clothes， with their prayer-books under their arms. They were going to hear the clergyman preach. They looked at Little Claus ploughing with his five horses， and he was so proud that he smacked his whip， and said， “Gee-up， my five horses.”

“You must not say that，” said Big Claus; “for only one of them belongs to you.” But Little Claus soon forgot what he ought to say， and when any one passed he would call out， “Gee-up， my five horses!”

“Now I must beg you not to say that again，” said Big Claus; “for if you do， I shall hit your horse on the head， so that he will drop dead on the spot， and there will be an end of him.”

“I promise you I will not say it any more，” said the other; but as soon as people came by， nodding to him， and wishing him “Good day，” he became so pleased， and thought how grand it looked to have five horses ploughing in his field， that he cried out again， “Gee-up， all my horses!”

“I'll gee-up your horses for you，” said Big Claus; and seizing a hammer， he struck the one horse of Little Claus on the head， and he fell dead instantly.

“Oh， now I have no horse at all，” said Little Claus， weeping. But after a while he took off the dead horse's skin， and hung the hide to dry in the wind. Then he put the dry skin into a bag， and， placing it over his shoulder， went out into the next town to sell the horse's skin. He had a very long way to go， and had to pass through a dark， gloomy forest. Presently a storm arose， and he lost his way， and before he discovered the right path， evening came on， and it was still a long way to the town， and too far to return home before night. Near the road stood a large farmhouse. The shutters outside the windows were closed， but lights shone through the crevices at the top. “I might get permission to stay here for the night，” thought Little Claus; so he went up to the door and knocked. The farmer's wife opened the door; but when she heard what he wanted， she told him to go away， as her husband would not allow her to admit strangers. “Then I shall be obliged to lie out here，” said Little Claus to himself， as the farmer's wife shut the door in his face. Near to the farmhouse stood a large haystack， and between it and the house was a small shed， with a thatched roof. “I can lie up there，” said Little Claus， as he saw the roof; “it will make a famous bed， but I hope the stork will not fly down and bite my legs;” for on it stood a living stork， whose nest was in the roof. So Little Claus climbed to the roof of the shed， and while he turned himself to get comfortable， he discovered that the wooden shutters， which were closed， did not reach to the tops of the windows of the farmhouse， so that he could see into a room， in which a large table was laid out with wine， roast meat， and a splendid fish. The farmer's wife and the sexton were sitting at the table together; and she filled his glass， and helped him plenteously to fish， which appeared to be his favorite dish. “If I could only get some， too，” thought Little Claus; and then， as he stretched his neck towards the window he spied a large， beautiful pie，—indeed they had a glorious feast before them.

At this moment he heard some one riding down the road， towards the farmhouse. It was the farmer returning home. He was a good man， but still he had a very strange prejudice，—he could not bear the sight of a sexton. If one appeared before him， he would put himself in a terrible rage. In consequence of this dislike， the sexton had gone to visit the farmer's wife during her husband's absence from home， and the good woman had placed before him the best she had in the house to eat. When she heard the farmer coming she was frightened， and begged the sexton to hide himself in a large empty chest that stood in the room. He did so， for he knew her husband could not endure the sight of a sexton. The woman then quickly put away the wine， and hid all the rest of the nice things in the oven; for if her husband had seen them he would have asked what they were brought out for.

“Oh， dear，” sighed Little Claus from the top of the shed， as he saw all the good things disappear.

“Is any one up there?” asked the farmer， looking up and discovering Little Claus. “Why are you lying up there? Come down， and come into the house with me.” So Little Claus came down and told the farmer how he had lost his way and begged for a night's lodging.

“All right，” said the farmer; “but we must have something to eat first.”

The woman received them both very kindly， laid the cloth on a large table， and placed before them a dish of porridge. The farmer was very hungry， and ate his porridge with a good appetite， but Little Claus could not help thinking of the nice roast meat， fish and pies， which he knew were in the oven. Under the table， at his feet， lay the sack containing the horse's skin， which he intended to sell at the next town. Now Little Claus did not relish the porridge at all， so he trod with his foot on the sack under the table， and the dry skin squeaked quite loud. “Hush!” said Little Claus to his sack， at the same time treading upon it again， till it squeaked louder than before.

“Hallo! what have you got in your sack!” asked the farmer.

“Oh， it is a conjuror，” said Little Claus; “and he says we need not eat porridge， for he has conjured the oven full of roast meat， fish， and pie.”

“Wonderful!” cried the farmer， starting up and opening the oven door; and there lay all the nice things hidden by the farmer's wife， but which he supposed had been conjured there by the wizard under the table. The woman dared not say anything; so she placed the things before them， and they both ate of the fish， the meat， and the pastry.

Then Little Claus trod again upon his sack， and it squeaked as before. “What does he say now?” asked the farmer.

“He says，” replied Little Claus， “that there are three bottles of wine for us， standing in the corner， by the oven.”

So the woman was obliged to bring out the wine also， which she had hidden， and the farmer drank it till he became quite merry. He would have liked such a conjuror as Little Claus carried in his sack. “Could he conjure up the evil one?” asked the farmer. “I should like to see him now， while I am so merry.”

“Oh， yes!” replied Little Claus， “my conjuror can do anything I ask him，—can you not?” he asked， treading at the same time on the sack till it squeaked. “Do you hear? he answers ‘Yes，’ but he fears that we shall not like to look at him.”

“Oh， I am not afraid. What will he be like?”

“Well， he is very much like a sexton.”

“Ha!” said the farmer， “then he must be ugly. Do you know I cannot endure the sight of a sexton. However， that doesn't matter， I shall know who it is; so I shall not mind. Now then， I have got up my courage， but don't let him come too near me.”

“Stop， I must ask the conjuror，” said Little Claus; so he trod on the bag， and stooped his ear down to listen.

“What does he say?”

“He says that you must go and open that large chest which stands in the corner， and you will see the evil one crouching down inside; but you must hold the lid firmly， that he may not slip out.”

“Will you come and help me hold it?” said the farmer， going towards the chest in which his wife had hidden the sexton， who now lay inside， very much frightened. The farmer opened the lid a very little way， and peeped in.

“Oh，” cried he， springing backwards， “I saw him， and he is exactly like our sexton. How dreadful it is!” So after that he was obliged to drink again， and they sat and drank till far into the night.

“You must sell your conjuror to me，” said the farmer; “ask as much as you like， I will pay it; indeed I would give you directly a whole bushel of gold.”

“No， indeed， I cannot，” said Little Claus; “only think how much profit I could make out of this conjuror.”

“But I should like to have him，” said the fanner， still continuing his entreaties.

“Well，” said Little Claus at length， “you have been so good as to give me a night's lodging， I will not refuse you; you shall have the conjuror for a bushel of money， but I will have quite full measure.”

“So you shall，” said the farmer; “but you must take away the chest as well. I would not have it in the house another hour; there is no knowing if he may not be still there.”

So Little Claus gave the farmer the sack containing the dried horse's skin， and received in exchange a bushel of money—full measure. The farmer also gave him a wheelbarrow on which to carry away the chest and the gold.

“Farewell，” said Little Claus， as he went off with his money and the great chest， in which the sexton lay still concealed. On one side of the forest was a broad， deep river， the water flowed so rapidly that very few were able to swim against the stream. A new bridge had lately been built across it， and in the middle of this bridge Little Claus stopped， and said， loud enough to be heard by the sexton， “Now what shall I do with this stupid chest; it is as heavy as if it were full of stones: I shall be tired if I roll it any farther， so I may as well throw it in the river; if it swims after me to my house， well and good， and if not， it will not much matter.”

So he seized the chest in his hand and lifted it up a little， as if he were going to throw it into the water.

“No， leave it alone，” cried the sexton from within the chest; “let me out first.”

“Oh，” exclaimed Little Claus， pretending to be frightened， “he is in there still， is he? I must throw him into the river， that he may be drowned.”

“Oh， no; oh， no，” cried the sexton; “I will give you a whole bushel full of money if you will let me go.”

“Why， that is another matter，” said Little Claus， opening the chest. The sexton crept out， pushed the empty chest into the water， and went to his house， then he measured out a whole bushel full of gold for Little Claus， who had already received one from the farmer， so that now he had a barrow full.

“I have been well paid for my horse，” said he to himself when he reached home， entered his own room， and emptied all his money into a heap on the floor. “How vexed Great Claus will be when he finds out how rich I have become all through my one horse; but I shall not tell him exactly how it all happened.” Then he sent a boy to Great Claus to borrow a bushel measure.

“What can he want it for?” thought Great Claus; so he smeared the bottom of the measure with tar， that some of whatever was put into it might stick there and remain. And so it happened; for when the measure returned， three new silver florins were sticking to it.

“What does this mean?” said Great Claus; so he ran off directly to Little Claus， and asked， “Where did you get so much money?”

“Oh， for my horse's skin， I sold it yesterday.”

“It was certainly well paid for then，” said Great Claus; and he ran home to his house， seized a hatchet， and knocked all his four horses on the head， flayed off their skins， and took them to the town to sell. “Skins， skins， who'll buy skins?” he cried， as he went through the streets. All the shoemakers and tanners came running， and asked how much he wanted for them.

“A bushel of money， for each，” replied Great Claus.

“Are you mad?” they all cried; “do you think we have money to spend by the bushel?”

“Skins， skins，” he cried again， “who'll buy skins?” but to all who inquired the price， his answer was， “a bushel of money.”

“He is making fools of us，” said they all; then the shoemakers took their straps， and the tanners their leather aprons， and began to beat Great Claus.

“Skins， skins!” they cried， mocking him; “yes， we'll mark your skin for you， till it is black and blue.”

“Out of the town with him，” said they. And Great Claus was obliged to run as fast as he could， he had never before been so thoroughly beaten.

“Ah，” said he， as he came to his house; “Little Claus shall pay me for this; I will beat him to death.”

Meanwhile the old grandmother of Little Claus died. She had been cross， unkind， and really spiteful to him; but he was very sorry， and took the dead woman and laid her in his warm bed to see if he could bring her to life again. There he determined that she should lie the whole night， while he seated himself in a chair in a corner of the room as he had often done before. During the night， as he sat there， the door opened， and in came Great Claus with a hatchet. He knew well where Little Claus's bed stood; so he went right up to it， and struck the old grandmother on the head. thinking it must be Little Claus.

“There，” cried he， “now you cannot make a fool of me again;” and then he went home.

“That is a very wicked man，” thought Little Claus; “he meant to kill me. It is a good thing for my old grandmother that she was already dead， or he would have taken her life.” Then he dressed his old grandmother in her best clothes， borrowed a horse of his neighbor， and harnessed it to a cart. Then he placed the old woman on the back seat， so that she might not fall out as he drove， and rode away through the wood. By sunrise they reached a large inn， where Little Claus stopped and went to get something to eat. The landlord was a rich man， and a good man too; but as passionate as if he had been made of pepper and snuff.

“Good morning，” said he to Little Claus; “you are come betimes to-day.”

“Yes，” said Little Claus; “I am going to the town with my old grandmother; she is sitting at the back of the wagon， but I cannot bring her into the room. Will you take her a glass of mead? but you must speak very loud， for she cannot hear well.”

“Yes， certainly I will，” replied the landlord; and， pouring out a glass of mead， he carried it out to the dead grandmother， who sat upright in the cart. “Here is a glass of mead from your grandson，” said the landlord. The dead woman did not answer a word， but sat quite still. “Do you not hear?” cried the landlord as loud as he could; “here is a glass of mead from your grandson.”

Again and again he bawled it out， but as she did not stir he flew into a passion， and threw the glass of mead in her face; it struck her on the nose， and she fell backwards out of the cart， for she was only seated there， not tied in.

“Hallo!” cried Little Claus， rushing out of the door， and seizing hold of the landlord by the throat; “you have killed my grandmother; see， here is a great hole in her forehead.”

“Oh， how unfortunate，” said the landlord， wringing his hands. “This all comes of my fiery temper. Dear Little Claus， I will give you a bushel of money; I will bury your grandmother as if she were my own; only keep silent， or else they will cut off my head， and that would be disagreeable.”

So it happened that Little Claus received another bushel of money， and the landlord buried his old grandmother as if she had been his own. When Little Claus reached home again， he immediately sent a boy to Great Claus， requesting him to lend him a bushel measure. “How is this?” thought Great Claus; “did I not kill him? I must go and see for myself.” So he went to Little Claus， and took the bushel measure with him. “How did you get all this money?” asked Great Claus， staring with wide open eyes at his neighbor's treasures.

“You killed my grandmother instead of me，” said Little Claus; “so I have sold her for a bushel of money.”

“That is a good price at all events，” said Great Claus. So he went home， took a hatchet， and killed his old grandmother with one blow. Then he placed her on a cart， and drove into the town to the apothecary， and asked him if he would buy a dead body.

“Whose is it， and where did you get it?” asked the apothecary.

“It is my grandmother，” he replied; “I killed her with a blow， that I might get a bushel of money for her.”

“Heaven preserve us!” cried the apothecary， “you are out of your mind. Don't say such things， or you will lose your head.” And then he talked to him seriously about the wicked deed he had done， and told him that such a wicked man would surely be punished. Great Claus got so frightened that he rushed out of the surgery， jumped into the cart， whipped up his horses， and drove home quickly. The apothecary and all the people thought him mad， and let him drive where he liked.

“You shall pay for this，” said Great Claus， as soon as he got into the highroad， “that you shall， Little Claus.” So as soon as he reached home he took the largest sack he could find and went over to Little Claus. “You have played me another trick，” said he. “First， I killed all my horses， and then my old grandmother， and it is all your fault; but you shall not make a fool of me any more.” So he laid hold of Little Claus round the body， and pushed him into the sack， which he took on his shoulders， saying， “Now I'm going to drown you in the river.”

He had a long way to go before he reached the river， and Little Claus was not a very light weight to carry. The road led by the church， and as they passed he could hear the organ playing and the people singing beautifully. Great Claus put down the sack close to the church-door， and thought he might as well go in and hear a psalm before he went any farther. Little Claus could not possibly get out of the sack， and all the people were in church; so in he went.

“Oh dear， oh dear，” sighed Little Claus in the sack， as he turned and twisted about; but he found he could not loosen the string with which it was tied. Presently an old cattle driver， with snowy hair， passed by， carrying a large staff in his hand， with which he drove a large herd of cows and oxen before him. They stumbled against the sack in which lay Little Claus， and turned it over. “Oh dear，” sighed Little Claus， “I am very young， yet I am soon going to heaven.”

“And I， poor fellow，” said the drover， “I who am so old already， cannot get there.”

“Open the sack，” cried Little Claus; “creep into it instead of me， and you will soon be there.”

“With all my heart，” replied the drover， opening the sack， from which sprung Little Claus as quickly as possible. “Will you take care of my cattle?” said the old man， as he crept into the bag.

“Yes，” said Little Claus， and he tied up the sack， and then walked off with all the cows and oxen.

When Great Claus came out of church， he took up the sack， and placed it on his shoulders. It appeared to have become lighter， for the old drover was not half so heavy as Little Claus.

“How light he seems now，” said he. “Ah， it is because I have been to a church.” So he walked on to the river， which was deep and broad， and threw the sack containing the old drover into the water， believing it to be Little Claus. “There you may lie!” he exclaimed; “you will play me no more tricks now.” Then he turned to go home， but when he came to a place where two roads crossed， there was Little Claus driving the cattle. “How is this?” said Great Claus. “Did I not drown you just now?”

“Yes，” said Little Claus; “you threw me into the river about half an hour ago.”

“But wherever did you get all these fine beasts?” asked Great Claus.

“These beasts are sea-cattle，” replied Little Claus. “I'll tell you the whole story， and thank you for drowning me; I am above you now， I am really very rich. I was frightened， to be sure， while I lay tied up in the sack， and the wind whistled in my ears when you threw me into the river from the bridge， and I sank to the bottom immediately; but I did not hurt myself， for I fell upon beautifully soft grass which grows down there; and in a moment， the sack opened， and the sweetest little maiden came towards me. She had snow-white robes， and a wreath of green leaves on her wet hair. She took me by the hand， and said， ‘so you are come， Little Claus， and here are some cattle for you to begin with. About a mile farther on the road， there is another herd for you.’ Then I saw that the river formed a great highway for the people who live in the sea. They were walking and driving here and there from the sea to the land at the spot where the river terminates. The bed of the river was covered with the loveliest flowers and sweet fresh grass. The fish swam past me as rapidly as the birds do here in the air. How handsome all the people were， and what fine cattle were grazing on the hills and in the valleys!”

“But why did you come up again，” said Great Claus， “if it was all so beautiful down there? I should not have done so?”

“Well，” said Little Claus， “it was good policy on my part; you heard me say just now that I was told by the sea-maiden to go a mile farther on the road， and I should find a whole herd of cattle. By the road she meant the river， for she could not travel any other way; but I knew the winding of the river， and how it bends， sometimes to the right and sometimes to the left， and it seemed a long way， so I chose a shorter one; and， by coming up to the land， and then driving across the fields back again to the river， I shall save half a mile， and get all my cattle more quickly.”

“What a lucky fellow you are!” exclaimed Great Claus. “Do you think I should get any sea-cattle if I went down to the bottom of the river?”

“Yes， I think so，” said Little Claus; “but I cannot carry you there in a sack， you are too heavy. However if you will go there first， and then creep into a sack， I will throw you in with the greatest pleasure.”

“Thank you，” said Great Claus; “but remember， if I do not get any sea-cattle down there I shall come up again and give you a good thrashing.”

“No， now， don't be too fierce about it!” said Little Claus， as they walked on towards the river. When they approached it， the cattle， who were very thirsty， saw the stream， and ran down to drink.

“See what a hurry they are in，” said Little Claus， “they are longing to get down again.”

“Come， help me， make haste，” said Great Claus; “or you'll get beaten.” So he crept into a large sack， which had been lying across the back of one of the oxen.

“Put in a stone，” said Great Claus， “or I may not sink.”

“Oh， there's not much fear of that，” he replied; still he put a large stone into the bag， and then tied it tightly， and gave it a push.

“Plump!” In went Great Claus， and immediately sank to the bottom of the river.

“I'm afraid he will not find any cattle，” said Little Claus， and then he drove his own beasts homewards.

The Brave Tin Soldier

There were once five-and-twenty tin soldiers， who were all brothers， for they had been made out of the same old tin spoon. They shouldered arms and looked straight before them， and wore a splendid uniform， red and blue. The first thing in the world they ever heard were the words， “Tin soldiers!” uttered by a little boy， who clapped his hands with delight when the lid of the box， in which they lay， was taken off. They were given him for a birthday present， and he stood at the table to set them up. The soldiers were all exactly alike， excepting one， who had only one leg; he had been left to the last， and then there was not enough of the melted tin to finish him， so they made him to stand firmly on one leg， and this caused him to be very remarkable.

The table on which the tin soldiers stood， was covered with other playthings， but the most attractive to the eye was a pretty little paper castle. Through the small windows the rooms could be seen. In front of the castle a number of little trees surrounded a piece of looking-glass， which was intended to represent a transparent lake. Swans， made of wax， swam on the lake， and were reflected in it. All this was very pretty， but the prettiest of all was a tiny little lady， who stood at the open door of the castle; she， also， was made of paper， and she wore a dress of clear muslin， with a narrow blue ribbon over her shoulders just like a scarf. In front of these was fixed a glittering tinsel rose， as large as her whole face. The little lady was a dancer， and she stretched out both her arms， and raised one of her legs so high， that the tin soldier could not see it at all， and he thought that she， like himself， had only one leg. “That is the wife for me，” he thought; “but she is too grand， and lives in a castle， while I have only a box to live in， five-and-twenty of us altogether， that is no place for her. Still I must try and make her acquaintance.” Then he laid himself at full length on the table behind a snuff-box that stood upon it， so that he could peep at the little delicate lady， who continued to stand on one leg without losing her balance. When evening came， the other tin soldiers were all placed in the box， and the people of the house went to bed. Then the playthings began to have their own games together， to pay visits， to have sham fights， and to give balls. The tin soldiers rattled in their box; they wanted to get out and join the amusements， but they could not open the lid. The nut-crackers played at leap-frog， and the pencil jumped about the table. There was such a noise that the canary woke up and began to talk， and in poetry too. Only the tin soldier and the dancer remained in their places. She stood on tiptoe， with her legs stretched out， as firmly as he did on his one leg. He never took his eyes from her for even a moment. The clock struck twelve， and， with a bounce， up sprang the lid of the snuff-box; but， instead of snuff， there jumped up a little black goblin; for the snuff-box was a toy puzzle.

“Tin soldier，” said the goblin， “don't wish for what does not belong to you.”

But the tin soldier pretended not to hear.

“Very well; wait till to-morrow， then，” said the goblin.

When the children came in the next morning， they placed the tin soldier in the window. Now， whether it was the goblin who did it， or the draught， is not known， but the window flew open， and out fell the tin soldier， heels over head， from the third story， into the street beneath. It was a terrible fall; for he came head downwards， his helmet and his bayonet stuck in between the flagstones， and his one leg up in the air. The servant maid and the little boy went down stairs directly to look for him; but he was nowhere to be seen， although once they nearly trod upon him. If he had called out， “Here I am，” it would have been all right， but he was too proud to cry out for help while he wore a uniform.

Presently it began to rain， and the drops fell faster and faster， till there was a heavy shower. When it was over， two boys happened to pass by， and one of them said， “Look， there is a tin soldier. He ought to have a boat to sail in.”

So they made a boat out of a newspaper， and placed the tin soldier in it， and sent him sailing down the gutter， while the two boys ran by the side of it， and clapped their hands. Good gracious， what large waves arose in that gutter! and how fast the stream rolled on! for the rain had been very heavy. The paper boat rocked up and down， and turned itself round sometimes so quickly that the tin soldier trembled; yet he remained firm; his countenance did not change; he looked straight before him， and shouldered his musket. Suddenly the boat shot under a bridge which formed a part of a drain， and then it was as dark as the tin soldier's box.

“Where am I going now?” thought he. “This is the black goblin's fault， I am sure. Ah， well， if the little lady were only here with me in the boat， I should not care for any darkness.”

Suddenly there appeared a great water-rat， who lived in the drain.

“Have you a passport?” asked the rat， “give it to me at once.” But the tin soldier remained silent and held his musket tighter than ever. The boat sailed on and the rat followed it. How he did gnash his teeth and cry out to the bits of wood and straw， “Stop him， stop him; he has not paid toll， and has not shown his pass.”But the stream rushed on stronger and stronger. The tin soldier could already see daylight shining where the arch ended. Then he heard a roaring sound quite terrible enough to frighten the bravest man. At the end of the tunnel the drain fell into a large canal over a steep place， which made it as dangerous for him as a waterfall would be to us. He was too close to it to stop， so the boat rushed on， and the poor tin soldier could only hold himself as stiffly as possible， without moving an eyelid， to show that he was not afraid. The boat whirled round three or four times， and then filled with water to the very edge; nothing could save it from sinking. He now stood up to his neck in water， while deeper and deeper sank the boat， and the paper became soft and loose with the wet， till at last the water closed over the soldier's head. He thought of the elegant little dancer whom he should never see again， and the words of the song sounded in his ears-“Farewell， warrior! ever brave，Drifting onward to thy grave.”

Then the paper boat fell to pieces， and the soldier sank into the water and immediately afterwards was swallowed up by a great fish. Oh how dark it was inside the fish! A great deal darker than in the tunnel， and narrower too， but the tin soldier continued firm， and lay at full length shouldering his musket. The fish swam to and fro， making the most wonderful movements， but at last he became quite still. After a while， a flash of lightning seemed to pass through him， and then the daylight approached， and a voice cried out， “I declare here is the tin soldier.” The fish had been caught， taken to the market and sold to the cook， who took him into the kitchen and cut him open with a large knife. She picked up the soldier and held him by the waist between her finger and thumb， and carried him into the room. They were all anxious to see this wonderful soldier who had travelled about inside a fish; but he was not at all proud. They placed him on the table， and—how many curious things do happen in the world!—there he was in the very same room from the window of which he had fallen， there were the same children， the same playthings， standing on the table， and the pretty castle with the elegant little dancer at the door; she still balanced herself on one leg， and held up the other， so she was as firm as himself. It touched the tin soldier so much to see her that he almost wept tin tears， but he kept them back. He only looked at her and they both remained silent. Presently one of the little boys took up the tin soldier， and threw him into the stove. He had no reason for doing so， therefore it must have been the fault of the black goblin who lived in the snuff-box. The flames lighted up the tin soldier， as he stood， the heat was very terrible， but whether it proceeded from the real fire or from the fire of love he could not tell. Then he could see that the bright colors were faded from his uniform， but whether they had been washed off during his journey or from the effects of his sorrow， no one could say. He looked at the little lady， and she looked at him. He felt himself melting away， but he still remained firm with his gun on his shoulder. Suddenly the door of the room flew open and the draught of air caught up the little dancer， she fluttered like a sylph right into the stove by the side of the tin soldier， and was instantly in flames and was gone. The tin soldier melted down into a lump， and the next morning， when the maid servant took the ashes out of the stove， she found him in the shape of a little tin heart. But of the little dancer nothing remained but the tinsel rose， which was burnt black as a cinder.

Little Tiny or Thumbelina

There was once a woman who wished very much to have a little child， but she could not obtain her wish. At last she went to a fairy， and said， “I should so very much like to have a little child; can you tell me where I can find one?”

“Oh， that can be easily managed，” said the fairy. “Here is a barleycorn of a different kind to those which grow in the farmer's fields， and which the chickens eat; put it into a flower-pot， and see what will happen.”

“Thank you，” said the woman， and she gave the fairy twelve shillings， which was the price of the barleycorn. Then she went home and planted it， and immediately there grew up a large handsome flower， something like a tulip in appearance， but with its leaves tightly closed as if it were still a bud. “It is a beautiful flower，” said the woman， and she kissed the red and golden-colored leaves， and while she did so the flower opened， and she could see that it was a real tulip.

Within the flower， upon the green velvet stamens， sat a very delicate and graceful little maiden. She was scarcely half as long as a thumb， and they gave her the name of “Thumbelina，” or Tiny， because she was so small. A walnut-shell， elegantly polished， served her for a cradle; her bed was formed of blue violet-leaves， with a rose-leaf for a counterpane.

Here she slept at night， but during the day she amused herself on a table， where the woman had placed a plateful of water. Round this plate were wreaths of flowers with their stems in the water， and upon it floated a large tulip-leaf， which served Tiny for a boat. Here the little maiden sat and rowed herself from side to side， with two oars made of white horse-hair.

It really was a very pretty sight. Tiny could， also， sing so softly and sweetly that nothing like her singing had ever before been heard. One night， while she lay in her pretty bed， a large， ugly， wet toad crept through a broken pane of glass in the window， and leaped right upon the table where Tiny lay sleeping under her rose-leaf quilt. “What a pretty little wife this would make for my son，” said the toad， and she took up the walnut-shell in which little Tiny lay asleep， and jumped through the window with it into the garden.

In the swampy margin of a broad stream in the garden lived the toad， with her son. He was uglier even than his mother， and when he saw the pretty little maiden in her elegant bed， he could only cry， “Croak， croak， croak.”

“Don't speak so loud， or she will wake，” said the toad， “and then she might run away， for she is as light as swan's down. We will place her on one of the water-lily leaves out in the stream; it will be like an island to her， she is so light and small， and then she cannot escape; and， while she is away， we will make haste and prepare the state-room under the marsh， in which you are to live when you are married.”

Far out in the stream grew a number of water-lilies， with broad green leaves， which seemed to float on the top of the water. The largest of these leaves appeared farther off than the rest， and the old toad swam out to it with the walnut-shell， in which little Tiny lay still asleep. The tiny little creature woke very early in the morning， and began to cry bitterly when she found where she was， for she could see nothing but water on every side of the large green leaf， and no way of reaching the land. Meanwhile the old toad was very busy under the marsh， decking her room with rushes and wild yellow flowers， to make it look pretty for her new daughter-in-law. Then she swam out with her ugly son to the leaf on which she had placed poor little Tiny. She wanted to fetch the pretty bed， that she might put it in the bridal chamber to be ready for her. The old toad bowed low to her in the water， and said， “Here is my son， he will be your husband， and you will live happily in the marsh by the stream.”

“Croak， croak， croak，” was all her son could say for himself; so the toad took up the elegant little bed， and swam away with it， leaving Tiny all alone on the green leaf， where she sat and wept. She could not bear to think of living with the old toad， and having her ugly son for a husband.

The little fishes， who swam about in the water beneath， had seen the toad， and heard what she said， so they lifted their heads above the water to look at the little maiden. As soon as they caught sight of her， they saw she was very pretty， and it made them very sorry to think that she must go and live with the ugly toads. “No， it must never be!” so they assembled together in the water， round the green stalk which held the leaf on which the little maiden stood， and gnawed it away at the root with their teeth. Then the leaf floated down the stream， carrying Tiny far away out of reach of land.

Tiny sailed past many towns， and the little birds in the bushes saw her， and sang， “What a lovely little creature;” so the leaf swam away with her farther and farther， till it brought her to other lands. A graceful little white butterfly constantly fluttered round her， and at last alighted on the leaf. Tiny pleased him， and she was glad of it， for now the toad could not possibly reach her， and the country through which she sailed was beautiful， and the sun shone upon the water， till it glittered like liquid gold. She took off her girdle and tied one end of it round the butterfly， and the other end of the ribbon she fastened to the leaf， which now glided on much faster than ever， taking little Tiny with it as she stood. Presently a large cockchafer flew by; the moment he caught sight of her， he seized her round her delicate waist with his claws， and flew with her into a tree. The green leaf floated away on the brook， and the butterfly flew with it， for he was fastened to it， and could not get away.

Oh， how frightened little Tiny felt when the cockchafer flew with her to the tree! But especially was she sorry for the beautiful white butterfly which she had fastened to the leaf， for if he could not free himself he would die of hunger. But the cockchafer did not trouble himself at all about the matter.

He seated himself by her side on a large green leaf， gave her some honey from the flowers to eat， and told her she was very pretty， though not in the least like a cockchafer. After a time， all the cockchafers turned up their feelers， and said， “She has only two legs! how ugly that looks.” “She has no feelers，” said another. “Her waist is quite slim. Pooh! she is like a human being.”

“Oh! she is ugly，” said all the lady cockchafers， although Tiny was very pretty. Then the cockchafer who had run away with her， believed all the others when they said she was ugly， and would have nothing more to say to her， and told her she might go where she liked. Then he flew down with her from the tree， and placed her on a daisy， and she wept at the thought that she was so ugly that even the cockchafers would have nothing to say to her. And all the while she was really the loveliest creature that one could imagine， and as tender and delicate as a beautiful rose-leaf. During the whole summer poor little Tiny lived quite alone in the wide forest. She wove herself a bed with blades of grass， and hung it up under a broad leaf， to protect herself from the rain. She sucked the honey from the flowers for food， and drank the dew from their leaves every morning. So passed away the summer and the autumn， and then came the winter—the long， cold winter.

All the birds who had sung to her so sweetly were flown away， and the trees and the flowers had withered. The large clover leaf under the shelter of which she had lived， was now rolled together and shrivelled up， nothing remained but a yellow withered stalk. She felt dreadfully cold， for her clothes were torn， and she was herself so frail and delicate， that poor little Tiny was nearly frozen to death. It began to snow too; and the snow-flakes， as they fell upon her， were like a whole shovelful falling upon one of us， for we are tall， but she was only an inch high. Then she wrapped herself up in a dry leaf， but it cracked in the middle and could not keep her warm， and she shivered with cold.

Near the wood in which she had been living lay a corn-field， but the corn had been cut a long time; nothing remained but the bare dry stubble standing up out of the frozen ground. It was to her like struggling through a large wood. Oh! how she shivered with the cold. She came at last to the door of a field-mouse， who had a little den under the corn-stubble. There dwelt the field-mouse in warmth and comfort， with a whole roomful of corn， a kitchen， and a beautiful dining room. Poor little Tiny stood before the door just like a little beggar-girl， and begged for a small piece of barley-corn， for she had been without a morsel to eat for two days.

“You poor little creature，” said the field-mouse， who was really a good old field-mouse， “come into my warm room and dine with me.” She was very pleased with Tiny， so she said， “You are quite welcome to stay with me all the winter， if you like; but you must keep my rooms clean and neat， and tell me stories， for I shall like to hear them very much.” And Tiny did all the field-mouse asked her， and found herself very comfortable.

“We shall have a visitor soon，” said the field-mouse one day; “my neighbor pays me a visit once a week. He is better off than I am; he has large rooms， and wears a beautiful black velvet coat. If you could only have him for a husband， you would be well provided for indeed. But he is blind， so you must tell him some of your prettiest stories.”

But Tiny did not feel at all interested about this neighbor， for he was a mole. However， he came and paid his visit dressed in his black velvet coat.

“He is very rich and learned， and his house is twenty times larger than mine，” said the field-mouse.

He was rich and learned， no doubt， but he always spoke slightingly of the sun and the pretty flowers， because he had never seen them. Tiny was obliged to sing to him， “Lady-bird， lady-bird， fly away home，” and many other pretty songs. And the mole fell in love with her because she had such a sweet voice; but he said nothing yet， for he was very cautious. A short time before， the mole had dug a long passage under the earth， which led from the dwelling of the field-mouse to his own， and here she had permission to walk with Tiny whenever she liked. But he warned them not to be alarmed at the sight of a dead bird which lay in the passage. It was a perfect bird， with a beak and feathers， and could not have been dead long， and was lying just where the mole had made his passage. The mole took a piece of phosphorescent wood in his mouth， and it glittered like fire in the dark; then he went before them to light them through the long， dark passage. When they came to the spot where lay the dead bird， the mole pushed his broad nose through the ceiling， the earth gave way， so that there was a large hole， and the daylight shone into the passage. In the middle of the floor lay a dead swallow， his beautiful wings pulled close to his sides， his feet and his head drawn up under his feathers; the poor bird had evidently died of the cold. It made little Tiny very sad to see it， she did so love the little birds; all the summer they had sung and twittered for her so beautifully. But the mole pushed it aside with his crooked legs， and said， “He will sing no more now. How miserable it must be to be born a little bird! I am thankful that none of my children will ever be birds， for they can do nothing but cry， ‘Tweet， tweet，’ and always die of hunger in the winter.”

“Yes， you may well say that， as a clever man!” exclaimed the field-mouse， “What is the use of his twittering， for when winter comes he must either starve or be frozen to death. Still birds are very high bred.”

Tiny said nothing; but when the two others had turned their backs on the bird， she stooped down and stroked aside the soft feathers which covered the head， and kissed the closed eyelids. “Perhaps this was the one who sang to me so sweetly in the summer，” she said; “and how much pleasure it gave me， you dear， pretty bird.”

The mole now stopped up the hole through which the daylight shone， and then accompanied the lady home. But during the night Tiny could not sleep; so she got out of bed and wove a large， beautiful carpet of hay; then she carried it to the dead bird， and spread it over him; with some down from the flowers which she had found in the field-mouse's room. It was as soft as wool， and she spread some of it on each side of the bird， so that he might lie warmly in the cold earth. “Farewell， you pretty little bird，” said she， “farewell; thank you for your delightful singing during the summer， when all the trees were green， and the warm sun shone upon us.” Then she laid her head on the bird's breast， but she was alarmed immediately， for it seemed as if something inside the bird went “thump， thump.” It was the bird's heart; he was not really dead， only benumbed with the cold， and the warmth had restored him to life. In autumn， all the swallows fly away into warm countries， but if one happens to linger， the cold seizes it， it becomes frozen， and falls down as if dead; it remains where it fell， and the cold snow covers it. Tiny trembled very much; she was quite frightened， for the bird was large， a great deal larger than herself，—she was only an inch high. But she took courage， laid the wool more thickly over the poor swallow， and then took a leaf which she had used for her own counterpane， and laid it over the head of the poor bird. The next morning she again stole out to see him. He was alive but very weak; he could only open his eyes for a moment to look at Tiny， who stood by holding a piece of decayed wood in her hand， for she had no other lantern. “Thank you， pretty little maiden，” said the sick swallow; “I have been so nicely warmed， that I shall soon regain my strength， and be able to fly about again in the warm sunshine.”

“Oh，” said she， “it is cold out of doors now; it snows and freezes. Stay in your warm bed; I will take care of you.”

Then she brought the swallow some water in a flower-leaf， and after he had drank， he told her that he had wounded one of his wings in a thorn-bush， and could not fly as fast as the others， who were soon far away on their journey to warm countries. Then at last he had fallen to the earth， and could remember no more， nor how he came to be where she had found him. The whole winter the swallow remained underground， and Tiny nursed him with care and love. Neither the mole nor the field-mouse knew anything about it， for they did not like swallows. Very soon the spring time came， and the sun warmed the earth. Then the swallow bade farewell to Tiny， and she opened the hole in the ceiling which the mole had made. The sun shone in upon them so beautifully， that the swallow asked her if she would go with him; she could sit on his back， he said， and he would fly away with her into the green woods. But Tiny knew it would make the field-mouse very grieved if she left her in that manner， so she said， “No， I cannot.”

“Farewell， then， farewell， you good， pretty little maiden，” said the swallow; and he flew out into the sunshine.

Tiny looked after him， and the tears rose in her eyes. She was very fond of the poor swallow.

“Tweet， tweet，” sang the bird， as he flew out into the green woods， and Tiny felt very sad. She was not allowed to go out into the warm sunshine. The corn which had been sown in the field over the house of the field-mouse had grown up high into the air， and formed a thick wood to Tiny， who was only an inch in height.

“You are going to be married， Tiny，” said the field-mouse. “My neighbor has asked for you. What good fortune for a poor child like you. Now we will prepare your wedding clothes. They must be both woollen and linen. Nothing must be wanting when you are the mole's wife.”

Tiny had to turn the spindle， and the field-mouse hired four spiders， who were to weave day and night. Every evening the mole visited her， and was continually speaking of the time when the summer would be over. Then he would keep his wedding-day with Tiny; but now the heat of the sun was so great that it burned the earth， and made it quite hard， like a stone.

As soon as the summer was over， the wedding should take place. But Tiny was not at all pleased; for she did not like the tiresome mole. Every morning when the sun rose， and every evening when it went down， she would creep out at the door， and as the wind blew aside the ears of corn， so that she could see the blue sky， she thought how beautiful and bright it seemed out there， and wished so much to see her dear swallow again. But he never returned; for by this time he had flown far away into the lovely green forest.

When autumn arrived， Tiny had her outfit quite ready; and the field-mouse said to her， “In four weeks the wedding must take place.”

Then Tiny wept， and said she would not marry the disagreeable mole.

“Nonsense，” replied the field-mouse. “Now don't be obstinate， or I shall bite you with my white teeth. He is a very handsome mole; the queen herself does not wear more beautiful velvets and furs. His kitchen and cellars are quite full. You ought to be very thankful for such good fortune.”

So the wedding-day was fixed， on which the mole was to fetch Tiny away to live with him， deep under the earth， and never again to see the warm sun， because he did not like it. The poor child was very unhappy at the thought of saying farewell to the beautiful sun， and as the field-mouse had given her permission to stand at the door， she went to look at it once more.

“Farewell bright sun，” she cried， stretching out her arm towards it; and then she walked a short distance from the house; for the corn had been cut， and only the dry stubble remained in the fields. “Farewell， farewell，” she repeated， twining her arm round a little red flower that grew just by her side. “Greet the little swallow from me， if you should see him again.”

“Tweet， tweet，” sounded over her head suddenly. She looked up， and there was the swallow himself flying close by. As soon as he spied Tiny， he was delighted; and then she told him how unwilling she felt to marry the ugly mole， and to live always beneath the earth， and never to see the bright sun any more. And as she told him she wept.

“Cold winter is coming，” said the swallow， “and I am going to fly away into warmer countries. Will you go with me? You can sit on my back， and fasten yourself on with your sash. Then we can fly away from the ugly mole and his gloomy rooms—far away， over the mountains， into warmer countries， where the sun shines more brightly—than here; where it is always summer， and the flowers bloom in greater beauty. Fly now with me， dear little Tiny; you saved my life when I lay frozen in that dark passage.”

“Yes， I will go with you，” said Tiny; and she seated herself on the bird's back， with her feet on his outstretched wings， and tied her girdle to one of his strongest feathers.

Then the swallow rose in the air， and flew over forest and over sea， high above the highest mountains， covered with eternal snow. Tiny would have been frozen in the cold air， but she crept under the bird's warm feathers， keeping her little head uncovered， so that she might admire the beautiful lands over which they passed.

At length they reached the warm countries， where the sun shines brightly， and the sky seems so much higher above the earth. Here， on the hedges， and by the wayside， grew purple， green， and white grapes; lemons and oranges hung from trees in the woods; and the air was fragrant with myrtles and orange blossoms. Beautiful children ran along the country lanes， playing with large gay butterflies; and as the swallow flew farther and farther， every place appeared still more lovely.

At last they came to a blue lake， and by the side of it， shaded by trees of the deepest green， stood a palace of dazzling white marble， built in the olden times. Vines clustered round its lofty pillars， and at the top were many swallows' nests， and one of these was the home of the swallow who carried Tiny.

“This is my house，” said the swallow; “but it would not do for you to live there—you would not be comfortable. You must choose for yourself one of those lovely flowers， and I will put you down upon it， and then you shall have everything that you can wish to make you happy.”

“That will be delightful，” she said， and clapped her little hands for joy.

A large marble pillar lay on the ground， which， in falling， had been broken into three pieces. Between these pieces grew the most beautiful large white flowers; so the swallow flew down with Tiny， and placed her on one of the broad leaves. But how surprised she was to see in the middle of the flower， a tiny little man， as white and transparent as if he had been made of crystal! He had a gold crown on his head， and delicate wings at his shoulders， and was not much larger than Tiny herself. He was the angel of the flower; for a tiny man and a tiny woman dwell in every flower; and this was the king of them all.

“Oh， how beautiful he is!” whispered Tiny to the swallow.

The little prince was at first quite frightened at the bird， who was like a giant， compared to such a delicate little creature as himself; but when he saw Tiny， he was delighted， and thought her the prettiest little maiden he had ever seen. He took the gold crown from his head， and placed it on hers， and asked her name， and if she would be his wife， and queen over all the flowers.

This certainly was a very different sort of husband to the son of a toad， or the mole， with my black velvet and fur; so she said， “Yes，” to the handsome prince. Then all the flowers opened， and out of each came a little lady or a tiny lord， all so pretty it was quite a pleasure to look at them. Each of them brought Tiny a present; but the best gift was a pair of beautiful wings， which had belonged to a large white fly and they fastened them to Tiny's shoulders， so that she might fly from flower to flower. Then there was much rejoicing， and the little swallow who sat above them， in his nest， was asked to sing a wedding song， which he did as well as he could; but in his heart he felt sad for he was very fond of Tiny， and would have liked never to part from her again.

“You must not be called Tiny any more，” said the spirit of the flowers to her. “It is an ugly name， and you are so very pretty. We will call you Maia.”

“Farewell， farewell，” said the swallow， with a heavy heart as he left the warm countries to fly back into Denmark. There he had a nest over the window of a house in which dwelt the writer of fairy tales. The swallow sang， “Tweet， tweet，” and from his song came the whole story.

The Nightingale

In China， you know， the emperor is a Chinese， and all those about him are Chinamen also. The story I am going to tell you happened a great many years ago， so it is well to hear it now before it is forgotten. The emperor's palace was the most beautiful in the world. It was built entirely of porcelain， and very costly， but so delicate and brittle that whoever touched it was obliged to be careful. In the garden could be seen the most singular flowers， with pretty silver bells tied to them， which tinkled so that every one who passed could not help noticing the flowers. Indeed， everything in the emperor's garden was remarkable， and it extended so far that the gardener himself did not know where it ended. Those who travelled beyond its limits knew that there was a noble forest， with lofty trees， sloping down to the deep blue sea， and the great ships sailed under the shadow of its branches. In one of these trees lived a nightingale， who sang so beautifully that even the poor fishermen， who had so many other things to do， would stop and listen. Sometimes， when they went at night to spread their nets， they would hear her sing， and say， “Oh， is not that beautiful?” But when they returned to their fishing， they forgot the bird until the next night. Then they would hear it again， and exclaim “Oh， how beautiful is the nightingale's song!”

Travellers from every country in the world came to the city of the emperor， which they admired very much， as well as the palace and gardens; but when they heard the nightingale， they all declared it to be the best of all. And the travellers， on their return home， related what they had seen; and learned men wrote books， containing descriptions of the town， the palace， and the gardens; but they did not forget the nightingale， which was really the greatest wonder. And those who could write poetry composed beautiful verses about the nightingale， who lived in a forest near the deep sea. The books travelled all over the world， and some of them came into the hands of the emperor; and he sat in his golden chair， and， as he read， he nodded his approval every moment， for it pleased him to find such a beautiful description of his city， his palace， and his gardens. But when he came to the words， “the nightingale is the most beautiful of all，” he exclaimed， “What is this? I know nothing of any nightingale. Is there such a bird in my empire? and even in my garden? I have never heard of it. Something， it appears， may be learnt from books.”

Then he called one of his lords-in-waiting， who was so high-bred， that when any in an inferior rank to himself spoke to him， or asked him a question， he would answer， “Pooh，” which means nothing.

“There is a very wonderful bird mentioned here， called a nightingale，” said the emperor; “they say it is the best thing in my large kingdom. Why have I not been told of it?”

“I have never heard the name，” replied the cavalier; “she has not been presented at court.”

“It is my pleasure that she shall appear this evening.” said the emperor; “the whole world knows what I possess better than I do myself.”

“I have never heard of her，” said the cavalier; “yet I will endeavor to find her.”

But where was the nightingale to be found? The nobleman went up stairs and down， through halls and passages; yet none of those whom he met had heard of the bird. So he returned to the emperor， and said that it must be a fable， invented by those who had written the book. “Your imperial majesty，” said he， “cannot believe everything contained in books; sometimes they are only fiction， or what is called the black art.”

“But the book in which I have read this account，” said the emperor， “was sent to me by the great and mighty emperor of Japan， and therefore it cannot contain a falsehood. I will hear the nightingale， she must be here this evening; she has my highest favor; and if she does not come， the whole court shall be trampled upon after supper is ended.”

“Tsing-pe!” cried the lord-in-waiting， and again he ran up and down stairs， through all the halls and corridors; and half the court ran with him， for they did not like the idea of being trampled upon. There was a great inquiry about this wonderful nightingale， whom all the world knew， but who was unknown to the court.

At last they met with a poor little girl in the kitchen， who said， “Oh， yes， I know the nightingale quite well; indeed， she can sing. Every evening I have permission to take home to my poor sick mother the scraps from the table; she lives down by the sea-shore， and as I come back I feel tired， and I sit down in the wood to rest， and listen to the nightingale's song. Then the tears come into my eyes， and it is just as if my mother kissed me.”

“Little maiden，” said the lord-in-waiting， “I will obtain for you constant employment in the kitchen， and you shall have permission to see the emperor dine， if you will lead us to the nightingale; for she is invited for this evening to the palace.” So she went into the wood where the nightingale sang， and half the court followed her. As they went along， a cow began lowing.

“Oh，” said a young courtier， “now we have found her; what wonderful power for such a small creature; I have certainly heard it before.”

“No， that is only a cow lowing，” said the little girl; “we are a long way from the place yet.”

Then some frogs began to croak in the marsh.

“Beautiful，” said the young courtier again. “Now I hear it， tinkling like little church bells.”

“No， those are frogs，” said the little maiden; “but I think we shall soon hear her now:” and presently the nightingale began to sing.

“Hark， hark! there she is，” said the girl， “and there she sits，” she added， pointing to a little gray bird who was perched on a bough.

“Is it possible?” said the lord-in-waiting， “I never imagined it would be a little， plain， simple thing like that. She has certainly changed color at seeing so many grand people around her.”

“Little nightingale，” cried the girl， raising her voice， “our most gracious emperor wishes you to sing before him.”

“With the greatest pleasure，” said the nightingale， and began to sing most delightfully.

“It sounds like tiny glass bells，” said the lord-in-waiting， “and see how her little throat works. It is surprising that we have never heard this before; she will be a great success at court.”

“Shall I sing once more before the emperor?” asked the nightingale， who thought he was present.

“My excellent little nightingale，” said the courtier， “I have the great pleasure of inviting you to a court festival this evening， where you will gain imperial favor by your charming song.”

“My song sounds best in the green wood，” said the bird; but still she came willingly when she heard the emperor's wish.

The palace was elegantly decorated for the occasion. The walls and floors of porcelain glittered in the light of a thousand lamps. Beautiful flowers， round which little bells were tied， stood in the corridors: what with the running to and fro and the draught， these bells tinkled so loudly that no one could speak to be heard. In the centre of the great hall， a golden perch had been fixed for the nightingale to sit on. The whole court was present， and the little kitchen-maid had received permission to stand by the door. She was not installed as a real court cook. All were in full dress， and every eye was turned to the little gray bird when the emperor nodded to her to begin. The nightingale sang so sweetly that the tears came into the emperor's eyes， and then rolled down his cheeks， as her song became still more touching and went to every one's heart. The emperor was so delighted that he declared the nightingale should have his gold slipper to wear round her neck， but she declined the honor with thanks: she had been sufficiently rewarded already. “I have seen tears in an emperor's eyes，” she said， “that is my richest reward. An emperor's tears have wonderful power， and are quite sufficient honor for me;” and then she sang again more enchantingly than ever.

“That singing is a lovely gift;” said the ladies of the court to each other; and then they took water in their mouths to make them utter the gurgling sounds of the nightingale when they spoke to any one， so that they might fancy themselves nightingales. And the footmen and chambermaids also expressed their satisfaction， which is saying a great deal， for they are very difficult to please. In fact the nightingale's visit was most successful. She was now to remain at court， to have her own cage， with liberty to go out twice a day， and once during the night. Twelve servants were appointed to attend her on these occasions， who each held her by a silken string fastened to her leg. There was certainly not much pleasure in this kind of flying.

The whole city spoke of the wonderful bird， and when two people met， one said “nightin，” and the other said “gale，” and they understood what was meant， for nothing else was talked of. Eleven peddlers' children were named after her， but not of them could sing a note.

One day the emperor received a large packet on which was written “The Nightingale.” “Here is no doubt a new book about our celebrated bird，” said the emperor. But instead of a book， it was a work of art contained in a casket， an artificial nightingale made to look like a living one， and covered all over with diamonds， rubies， and sapphires. As soon as the artificial bird was wound up， it could sing like the real one， and could move its tail up and down， which sparkled with silver and gold. Round its neck hung a piece of ribbon， on which was written “The Emperor of Japan's nightingale is poor compared with that of the Emperor of China's.”

“This is very beautiful，” exclaimed all who saw it， and he who had brought the artificial bird received the title of “Imperial nightingale-bringer-in-chief.”

“Now they must sing together，” said the court， “and what a duet it will be.” But they did not get on well， for the real nightingale sang in its own natural way， but the artificial bird sang only waltzes.

“That is not a fault，” said the music-master， “it is quite perfect to my taste，” so then it had to sing alone， and was as successful as the real bird; besides， it was so much prettier to look at， for it sparkled like bracelets and breast-pins. Three and thirty times did it sing the same tunes without being tired; the people would gladly have heard it again， but the emperor said the living nightingale ought to sing something. But where was she? No one had noticed her when she flew out at the open window， back to her own green woods.

“What strange conduct，” said the emperor， when her flight had been discovered; and all the courtiers blamed her， and said she was a very ungrateful creature.

“But we have the best bird after all，” said one， and then they would have the bird sing again， although it was the thirty-fourth time they had listened to the same piece， and even then they had not learnt it， for it was rather difficult. But the music-master praised the bird in the highest degree， and even asserted that it was better than a real nightingale， not only in its dress and the beautiful diamonds， but also in its musical power. “For you must perceive， my chief lord and emperor， that with a real nightingale we can never tell what is going to be sung， but with this bird everything is settled. It can be opened and explained， so that people may understand how the waltzes are formed， and why one note follows upon another.”

“This is exactly what we think，” they all replied， and then the music-master received permission to exhibit the bird to the people on the following Sunday， and the emperor commanded that they should be present to hear it sing. When they heard it they were like people intoxicated; however it must have been with drinking tea， which is quite a Chinese custom. They all said “Oh!” and held up their forefingers and nodded， but a poor fisherman， who had heard the real nightingale， said， “it sounds prettily enough， and the melodies are all alike; yet there seems something wanting， I cannot exactly tell what.”

And after this the real nightingale was banished from the empire， and the artificial bird placed on a silk cushion close to the emperor's bed. The presents of gold and precious stones which had been received with it were round the bird， and it was now advanced to the title of “Little Imperial Toilet Singer，” and to the rank of No. 1 on the left hand; for the emperor considered the left side， on which the heart lies， as the most noble， and the heart of an emperor is in the same place as that of other people.

The music-master wrote a work， in twenty-five volumes， about the artificial bird， which was very learned and very long， and full of the most difficult Chinese words; yet all the people said they had read it， and understood it， for fear of being thought stupid and having their bodies trampled upon.

So a year passed， and the emperor， the court， and all the other Chinese knew every little turn in the artificial bird's song; and for that same reason it pleased them better. They could sing with the bird， which they often did. The street-boys sang， “Zi-zi-zi， cluck， cluck， cluck，” and the emperor himself could sing it also. It was really most amusing.

One evening， when the artificial bird was singing its best， and the emperor lay in bed listening to it， something inside the bird sounded “whizz.” Then a spring cracked. “Whir-r-r-r” went all the wheels， running round， and then the music stopped. The emperor immediately sprang out of bed， and called for his physician; but what could he do? Then they sent for a watchmaker; and， after a great deal of talking and examination， the bird was put into something like order; but he said that it must be used very carefully， as the barrels were worn， and it would be impossible to put in new ones without injuring the music. Now there was great sorrow， as the bird could only be allowed to play once a year; and even that was dangerous for the works inside it. Then the music-master made a little speech， full of hard words， and declared that the bird was as good as ever; and， of course no one contradicted him.

Five years passed， and then a real grief came upon the land. The Chinese really were fond of their emperor， and he now lay so ill that he was not expected to live. Already a new emperor had been chosen and the people who stood in the street asked the lord-in-waiting how the old emperor was; but he only said， “Pooh!” and shook his head.

Cold and pale lay the emperor in his royal bed; the whole court thought he was dead， and every one ran away to pay homage to his successor. The chamberlains went out to have a talk on the matter， and the ladies'-maids invited company to take coffee. Cloth had been laid down on the halls and passages， so that not a footstep should be heard， and all was silent and still. But the emperor was not yet dead， although he lay white and stiff on his gorgeous bed， with the long velvet curtains and heavy gold tassels. A window stood open， and the moon shone in upon the emperor and the artificial bird. The poor emperor， finding he could scarcely breathe with a strange weight on his chest， opened his eyes， and saw Death sitting there. He had put on the emperor's golden crown， and held in one hand his sword of state， and in the other his beautiful banner. All around the bed and peeping through the long velvet curtains， were a number of strange heads， some very ugly， and others lovely and gentle-looking. These were the emperor's good and bad deeds， which stared him in the face now Death sat at his heart.

“Do you remember this?” “Do you recollect that?” they asked one after another， thus bringing to his remembrance circumstances that made the perspiration stand on his brow.

“I know nothing about it，” said the emperor. “Music! music!” he cried; “the large Chinese drum! that I may not hear what they say.” But they still went on， and Death nodded like a Chinaman to all they said. “Music! music!” shouted the emperor. “You little precious golden bird， sing， pray sing! I have given you gold and costly presents; I have even hung my golden slipper round your neck. Sing! sing!” But the bird remained silent. There was no one to wind it up， and therefore it could not sing a note.

Death continued to stare at the emperor with his cold， hollow eyes， and the room was fearfully still. Suddenly there came through the open window the sound of sweet music. Outside， on the bough of a tree， sat the living nightingale. She had heard of the emperor's illness， and was therefore come to sing to him of hope and trust. And as she sung， the shadows grew paler and paler; the blood in the emperor's veins flowed more rapidly， and gave life to his weak limbs; and even Death himself listened， and said， “Go on， little nightingale， go on.”

“Then will you give me the beautiful golden sword and that rich banner? and will you give me the emperor's crown?” said the bird.

So Death gave up each of these treasures for a song; and the nightingale continued her singing. She sung of the quiet churchyard， where the white roses grow， where the elder-tree wafts its perfume on the breeze， and the fresh， sweet grass is moistened by the mourners' tears. Then Death longed to go and see his garden， and floated out through the window in the form of a cold， white mist.

“Thanks， thanks， you heavenly little bird. I know you well. I banished you from my kingdom once， and yet you have charmed away the evil faces from my bed， and banished Death from my heart， with your sweet song. How can I reward you?”

“You have already rewarded me，” said the nightingale. “I shall never forget that I drew tears from your eyes the first time I sang to you. These are the jewels that rejoice a singer's heart. But now sleep， and grow strong and well again. I will sing to you again.”

And as she sung， the emperor fell into a sweet sleep; and how mild and refreshing that slumber was! When he awoke， strengthened and restored， the sun shone brightly through the window; but not one of his servants had returned—they all believed he was dead; only the nightingale still sat beside him， and sang.

“You must always remain with me，” said the emperor. “You shall sing only when it pleases you; and I will break the artificial bird into a thousand pieces.”

“No; do not do that，” replied the nightingale; “the bird did very well as long as it could. Keep it here still. I cannot live in the palace， and build my nest; but let me come when I like. I will sit on a bough outside your window， in the evening， and sing to you， so that you may be happy， and have thoughts full of joy. I will sing to you of those who are happy， and those who suffer; of the good and the evil， who are hidden around you. The little singing bird flies far from you and your court to the home of the fisherman and the peasant's cot. I love your heart better than your crown; and yet something holy lingers round that also. I will come， I will sing to you; but you must promise me one thing.”

“Everything，” said the emperor， who， having dressed himself in his imperial robes， stood with the hand that held the heavy golden sword pressed to his heart.

“I only ask one thing，” she replied; “let no one know that you have a little bird who tells you everything. It will be best to conceal it.” So saying， the nightingale flew away.

The servants now came in to look after the dead emperor; when， lo! there he stood， and， to their astonishment， said， “Good morning.”

The Snow Queen In Seven Stories

Story the First Which Describes a Looking-Glass and the Broken Fragments

You must attend to the commencement of this story， for when we get to the end we shall know more than we do now about a very wicked hobgoblin; he was one of the very worst， for he was a real demon. One day， when he was in a merry mood， he made a looking-glass which had the power of making everything good or beautiful that was reflected in it almost shrink to nothing， while everything that was worthless and bad looked increased in size and worse than ever. The most lovely landscapes appeared like boiled spinach， and the people became hideous， and looked as if they stood on their heads and had no bodies. Their countenances were so distorted that no one could recognize them， and even one freckle on the face appeared to spread over the whole of the nose and mouth. The demon said this was very amusing. When a good or pious thought passed through the mind of any one it was misrepresented in the glass; and then how the demon laughed at his cunning invention. All who went to the demon's school—for he kept a school—talked everywhere of the wonders they had seen， and declared that people could now， for the first time， see what the world and mankind were really like. They carried the glass about everywhere， till at last there was not a land nor a people who had not been looked at through this distorted mirror. They wanted even to fly with it up to heaven to see the angels， but the higher they flew the more slippery the glass became， and they could scarcely hold it， till at last it slipped from their hands， fell to the earth， and was broken into millions of pieces. But now the looking-glass caused more unhappiness than ever， for some of the fragments were not so large as a grain of sand， and they flew about the world into every country. When one of these tiny atoms flew into a person's eye， it stuck there unknown to him， and from that moment he saw everything through a distorted medium， or could see only the worst side of what he looked at， for even the smallest fragment retained the same power which had belonged to the whole mirror. Some few persons even got a fragment of the looking-glass in their hearts， and this was very terrible， for their hearts became cold like a lump of ice. A few of the pieces were so large that they could be used as window-panes; it would have been a sad thing to look at our friends through them. Other pieces were made into spectacles; this was dreadful for those who wore them， for they could see nothing either rightly or justly. At all this the wicked demon laughed till his sides shook—it tickled him so to see the mischief he had done. There were still a number of these little fragments of glass floating about in the air， and now you shall hear what happened with one of them.

Second Story A Little Boy and a Little Girl

In a large town， full of houses and people， there is not room for everybody to have even a little garden， therefore they are obliged to be satisfied with a few flowers in flower-pots. In one of these large towns lived two poor children who had a garden something larger and better than a few flower-pots. They were not brother and sister， but they loved each other almost as much as if they had been. Their parents lived opposite to each other in two garrets， where the roofs of neighboring houses projected out towards each other and the water-pipe ran between them. In each house was a little window， so that any one could step across the gutter from one window to the other. The parents of these children had each a large wooden box in which they cultivated kitchen herbs for their own use， and a little rose-bush in each box， which grew splendidly. Now after a while the parents decided to place these two boxes across the water-pipe， so that they reached from one window to the other and looked like two banks of flowers. Sweet-peas drooped over the boxes， and the rose-bushes shot forth long branches， which were trained round the windows and clustered together almost like a triumphal arch of leaves and flowers. The boxes were very high， and the children knew they must not climb upon them， without permission， but they were often， however， allowed to step out together and sit upon their little stools under the rose-bushes， or play quietly. In winter all this pleasure came to an end， for the windows were sometimes quite frozen over. But then they would warm copper pennies on the stove， and hold the warm pennies against the frozen pane; there would be very soon a little round hole through which they could peep， and the soft bright eyes of the little boy and girl would beam through the hole at each window as they looked at each other. Their names were Kay and Gerda. In summer they could be together with one jump from the window， but in winter they had to go up and down the long staircase， and out through the snow before they could meet.

“See there are the white bees swarming，” said Kay's old grandmother one day when it was snowing.

“Have they a queen bee?” asked the little boy， for he knew that the real bees had a queen.

“To be sure they have，” said the grandmother. “She is flying there where the swarm is thickest. She is the largest of them all， and never remains on the earth， but flies up to the dark clouds. Often at midnight she flies through the streets of the town， and looks in at the windows， then the ice freezes on the panes into wonderful shapes， that look like flowers and castles.”

“Yes， I have seen them，” said both the children， and they knew it must be true.

“Can the Snow Queen come in here?” asked the little girl.

“Only let her come，” said the boy， “I'll set her on the stove and then she'll melt.”

Then the grandmother smoothed his hair and told him some more tales. One evening， when little Kay was at home， half undressed， he climbed on a chair by the window and peeped out through the little hole. A few flakes of snow were falling， and one of them， rather larger than the rest， alighted on the edge of one of the flower boxes. This snow-flake grew larger and larger， till at last it became the figure of a woman， dressed in garments of white gauze， which looked like millions of starry snow-flakes linked together. She was fair and beautiful， but made of ice—shining and glittering ice. Still she was alive and her eyes sparkled like bright stars， but there was neither peace nor rest in their glance. She nodded towards the window and waved her hand. The little boy was frightened and sprang from the chair; at the same moment it seemed as if a large bird flew by the window. On the following day there was a clear frost， and very soon came the spring. The sun shone; the young green leaves burst forth; the swallows built their nests; windows were opened， and the children sat once more in the garden on the roof， high above all the other rooms. How beautiful the roses blossomed this summer. The little girl had learnt a hymn in which roses were spoken of， and then she thought of their own roses， and she sang the hymn to the little boy， and he sang too:“Roses bloom and cease to be，But we shall the Christ-child see.”

Then the little ones held each other by the hand， and kissed the roses， and looked at the bright sunshine， and spoke to it as if the Christ-child were there. Those were splendid summer days. How beautiful and fresh it was out among the rose-bushes， which seemed as if they would never leave off blooming. One day Kay and Gerda sat looking at a book full of pictures of animals and birds， and then just as the clock in the church tower struck twelve， Kay said， “Oh， something has struck my heart!” and soon after， “There is something in my eye.”

The little girl put her arm round his neck， and looked into his eye， but she could see nothing.

“I think it is gone，” he said. But it was not gone; it was one of those bits of the looking-glass—that magic mirror， of which we have spoken—the ugly glass which made everything great and good appear small and ugly， while all that was wicked and bad became more visible， and every little fault could be plainly seen. Poor little Kay had also received a small grain in his heart， which very quickly turned to a lump of ice. He felt no more pain， but the glass was there still. “Why do you cry?” said he at last; “it makes you look ugly. There is nothing the matter with me now. Oh， see!” he cried suddenly， “that rose is worm-eaten， and this one is quite crooked. After all they are ugly roses， just like the box in which they stand，” and then he kicked the boxes with his foot， and pulled off the two roses.

“Kay， what are you doing?” cried the little girl; and then， when he saw how frightened she was， he tore off another rose， and jumped through his own window away from little Gerda.

When she afterwards brought out the picture book， he said， “It was only fit for babies in long clothes，” and when grandmother told any stories， he would interrupt her with “but;” or， when he could manage it， he would get behind her chair， put on a pair of spectacles， and imitate her very cleverly， to make people laugh. By-and-by he began to mimic the speech and gait of persons in the street. All that was peculiar or disagreeable in a person he would imitate directly， and people said， “That boy will be very clever; he has a remarkable genius.” But it was the piece of glass in his eye， and the coldness in his heart， that made him act like this. He would even tease little Gerda， who loved him with all her heart. His games， too， were quite different; they were not so childish. One winter's day， when it snowed， he brought out a burning-glass， then he held out the tail of his blue coat， and let the snow-flakes fall upon it. “Look in this glass， Gerda，” said he; and she saw how every flake of snow was magnified， and looked like a beautiful flower or a glittering star. “Is it not clever?” said Kay， “and much more interesting than looking at real flowers. There is not a single fault in it， and the snow-flakes are quite perfect till they begin to melt.”

Soon after Kay made his appearance in large thick gloves， and with his sledge at his back. He called up stairs to Gerda， “I've got to leave to go into the great square， where the other boys play and ride.” And away he went.

In the great square， the boldest among the boys would often tie their sledges to the country people's carts， and go with them a good way. This was capital. But while they were all amusing themselves， and Kay with them， a great sledge came by; it was painted white， and in it sat some one wrapped in a rough white fur， and wearing a white cap. The sledge drove twice round the square， and Kay fastened his own little sledge to it， so that when it went away， he followed with it. It went faster and faster right through the next street， and then the person who drove turned round and nodded pleasantly to Kay， just as if they were acquainted with each other， but whenever Kay wished to loosen his little sledge the driver nodded again， so Kay sat still， and they drove out through the town gate. Then the snow began to fall so heavily that the little boy could not see a hand's breadth before him， but still they drove on; then he suddenly loosened the cord so that the large sled might go on without him， but it was of no use， his little carriage held fast， and away they went like the wind. Then he called out loudly， but nobody heard him， while the snow beat upon him， and the sledge flew onwards. Every now and then it gave a jump as if it were going over hedges and ditches. The boy was frightened， and tried to say a prayer， but he could remember nothing but the multiplication table.

The snow-flakes became larger and larger， till they appeared like great white chickens. All at once they sprang on one side， the great sledge stopped， and the person who had driven it rose up. The fur and the cap， which were made entirely of snow， fell off， and he saw a lady， tall and white， it was the Snow Queen.

“We have driven well，” said she， “but why do you tremble? here， creep into my warm fur.” Then she seated him beside her in the sledge， and as she wrapped the fur round him he felt as if he were sinking into a snow drift.

“Are you still cold，” she asked， as she kissed him on the forehead. The kiss was colder than ice; it went quite through to his heart， which was already almost a lump of ice; he felt as if he were going to die， but only for a moment; he soon seemed quite well again， and did not notice the cold around him.

“My sledge! don't forget my sledge，” was his first thought， and then he looked and saw that it was bound fast to one of the white chickens， which flew behind him with the sledge at its back. The Snow Queen kissed little Kay again， and by this time he had forgotten little Gerda， his grandmother， and all at home.

“Now you must have no more kisses，” she said， “or I should kiss you to death.”

Kay looked at her， and saw that she was so beautiful， he could not imagine a more lovely and intelligent face; she did not now seem to be made of ice， as when he had seen her through his window， and she had nodded to him. In his eyes she was perfect， and she did not feel at all afraid. He told her he could do mental arithmetic， as far as fractions， and that he knew the number of square miles and the number of inhabitants in the country. And she always smiled so that he thought he did not know enough yet， and she looked round the vast expanse as she flew higher and higher with him upon a black cloud， while the storm blew and howled as if it were singing old songs. They flew over woods and lakes， over sea and land; below them roared the wild wind; the wolves howled and the snow crackled; over them flew the black screaming crows， and above all shone the moon， clear and bright，—and so Kay passed through the long winter's night， and by day he slept at the feet of the Snow Queen.

Third Story The Flower Garden of the Woman Who Could Conjure

But how fared little Gerda during Kay's absence? What had become of him， no one knew， nor could any one give the slightest information， excepting the boys， who said that he had tied his sledge to another very large one， which had driven through the street， and out at the town gate. Nobody knew where it went; many tears were shed for him， and little Gerda wept bitterly for a long time. She said she knew he must be dead; that he was drowned in the river which flowed close by the school. Oh， indeed those long winter days were very dreary. But at last spring came， with warm sunshine. “Kay is dead and gone，” said little Gerda.

“I don't believe it，” said the sunshine.

“He is dead and gone，” she said to the sparrows.

“We don't believe it，” they replied; and at last little Gerda began to doubt it herself. “I will put on my new red shoes，” she said one morning， “those that Kay has never seen， and then I will go down to the river， and ask for him.” It was quite early when she kissed her old grandmother， who was still asleep; then she put on her red shoes， and went quite alone out of the town gates toward the river. “Is it true that you have taken my little playmate away from me?” said she to the river. “I will give you my red shoes if you will give him back to me.” And it seemed as if the waves nodded to her in a strange manner. Then she took off her red shoes， which she liked better than anything else， and threw them both into the river， but they fell near the bank， and the little waves carried them back to the land， just as if the river would not take from her what she loved best， because they could not give her back little Kay. But she thought the shoes had not been thrown out far enough. Then she crept into a boat that lay among the reeds， and threw the shoes again from the farther end of the boat into the water， but it was not fastened. And her movement sent it gliding away from the land. When she saw this she hastened to reach the end of the boat， but before she could so it was more than a yard from the bank， and drifting away faster than ever. Then little Gerda was very much frightened， and began to cry， but no one heard her except the sparrows， and they could not carry her to land， but they flew along by the shore， and sang， as if to comfort her， “Here we are! Here we are!” The boat floated with the stream; little Gerda sat quite still with only her stockings on her feet; the red shoes floated after her， but she could not reach them because the boat kept so much in advance. The banks on each side of the river were very pretty. There were beautiful flowers， old trees， sloping fields， in which cows and sheep were grazing， but not a man to be seen. Perhaps the river will carry me to little Kay， thought Gerda， and then she became more cheerful， and raised her head， and looked at the beautiful green banks; and so the boat sailed on for hours. At length she came to a large cherry orchard， in which stood a small red house with strange red and blue windows. It had also a thatched roof， and outside were two wooden soldiers， that presented arms to her as she sailed past. Gerda called out to them， for she thought they were alive， but of course they did not answer; and as the boat drifted nearer to the shore， she saw what they really were. Then Gerda called still louder， and there came a very old woman out of the house， leaning on a crutch. She wore a large hat to shade her from the sun， and on it were painted all sorts of pretty flowers. “You poor little child，” said the old woman， “how did you manage to come all this distance into the wide world on such a rapid rolling stream?” And then the old woman walked in the water， seized the boat with her crutch， drew it to land， and lifted Gerda out. And Gerda was glad to feel herself on dry ground， although she was rather afraid of the strange old woman. “Come and tell me who you are，” said she， “and how came you here.”

Then Gerda told her everything， while the old woman shook her head， and said， “Hem-hem;” and when she had finished， Gerda asked if she had not seen little Kay， and the old woman told her he had not passed by that way， but he very likely would come. So she told Gerda not to be sorrowful， but to taste the cherries and look at the flowers; they were better than any picture-book， for each of them could tell a story. Then she took Gerda by the hand and led her into the little house， and the old woman closed the door. The windows were very high， and as the panes were red， blue， and yellow， the daylight shone through them in all sorts of singular colors. On the table stood beautiful cherries， and Gerda had permission to eat as many as she would. While she was eating them the old woman combed out her long flaxen ringlets with a golden comb， and the glossy curls hung down on each side of the little round pleasant face， which looked fresh and blooming as a rose. “I have long been wishing for a dear little maiden like you，” said the old woman， “and now you must stay with me， and see how happily we shall live together.” And while she went on combing little Gerda's hair， she thought less and less about her adopted brother Kay， for the old woman could conjure， although she was not a wicked witch; she conjured only a little for her own amusement， and now， because she wanted to keep Gerda. Therefore she went into the garden， and stretched out her crutch towards all the rose-trees， beautiful though they were; and they immediately sunk into the dark earth， so that no one could tell where they had once stood. The old woman was afraid that if little Gerda saw roses she would think of those at home， and then remember little Kay， and run away. Then she took Gerda into the flower-garden. How fragrant and beautiful it was! Every flower that could be thought of for every season of the year was here in full bloom; no picture-book could have more beautiful colors. Gerda jumped for joy， and played till the sun went down behind the tall cherry-trees; then she slept in an elegant bed with red silk pillows， embroidered with colored violets; and then she dreamed as pleasantly as a queen on her wedding day. The next day， and for many days after， Gerda played with the flowers in the warm sunshine. She knew every flower， and yet， although there were so many of them， it seemed as if one were missing， but which it was she could not tell. One day， however， as she sat looking at the old woman's hat with the painted flowers on it， she saw that the prettiest of them all was a rose. The old woman had forgotten to take it from her hat when she made all the roses sink into the earth. But it is difficult to keep the thoughts together in everything; one little mistake upsets all our arrangements.

“What， are there no roses here?” cried Gerda; and she ran out into the garden， and examined all the beds， and searched and searched. There was not one to be found. Then she sat down and wept， and her tears fell just on the place where one of the rose-trees had sunk down. The warm tears moistened the earth， and the rose-tree sprouted up at once， as blooming as when it had sunk; and Gerda embraced it and kissed the roses， and thought of the beautiful roses at home， and， with them， of little Kay.

“Oh， how I have been detained!” said the little maiden， “I wanted to seek for little Kay. Do you know where he is?” she asked the roses; “do you think he is dead?”

And the roses answered， “No， he is not dead. We have been in the ground where all the dead lie; but Kay is not there.”

“Thank you，” said little Gerda， and then she went to the other flowers， and looked into their little cups， and asked， “Do you know where little Kay is?” But each flower， as it stood in the sunshine， dreamed only of its own little fairy tale of history. Not one knew anything of Kay. Gerda heard many stories from the flowers， as she asked them one after another about him.

And what， said the tiger-lily? “Hark， do you hear the drum?— ‘turn， turn，’—there are only two notes， always， ‘turn， turn.’ Listen to the women's song of mourning! Hear the cry of the priest! In her long red robe stands the Hindoo widow by the funeral pile. The flames rise around her as she places herself on the dead body of her husband; but the Hindoo woman is thinking of the living one in that circle; of him， her son， who lighted those flames. Those shining eyes trouble her heart more painfully than the flames which will soon consume her body to ashes. Can the fire of the heart be extinguished in the flames of the funeral pile?”

“I don't understand that at all，” said little Gerda.

“That is my story，” said the tiger-lily.

What， says the convolvulus? “Near yonder narrow road stands an old knight's castle; thick ivy creeps over the old ruined walls， leaf over leaf， even to the balcony， in which stands a beautiful maiden. She bends over the balustrades， and looks up the road. No rose on its stem is fresher than she; no apple-blossom， wafted by the wind， floats more lightly than she moves. Her rich silk rustles as she bends over and exclaims， ‘Will he not come?’”

“Is it Kay you mean?” asked Gerda.

“I am only speaking of a story of my dream，” replied the flower.

What， said the little snow-drop? “Between two trees a rope is hanging; there is a piece of board upon it; it is a swing. Two pretty little girls， in dresses white as snow， and with long green ribbons fluttering from their hats， are sitting upon it swinging. Their brother who is taller than they are， stands in the swing; he has one arm round the rope， to steady himself; in one hand he holds a little bowl， and in the other a clay pipe; he is blowing bubbles. As the swing goes on， the bubbles fly upward， reflecting the most beautiful varying colors. The last still hangs from the bowl of the pipe， and sways in the wind. On goes the swing; and then a little black dog comes running up. He is almost as light as the bubble， and he raises himself on his hind legs， and wants to be taken into the swing; but it does not stop， and the dog falls; then he barks and gets angry. The children stoop towards him， and the bubble bursts. A swinging plank， a light sparkling foam picture，—that is my story.”

“It may be all very pretty what you are telling me，” said little Gerda， “but you speak so mournfully， and you do not mention little Kay at all.”

What do the hyacinths say? “There were three beautiful sisters， fair and delicate. The dress of one was red， of the second blue， and of the third pure white. Hand in hand they danced in the bright moonlight， by the calm lake; but they were human beings， not fairy elves. The sweet fragrance attracted them， and they disappeared in the wood; here the fragrance became stronger. Three coffins， in which lay the three beautiful maidens， glided from the thickest part of the forest across the lake. The fire-flies flew lightly over them， like little floating torches. Do the dancing maidens sleep， or are they dead? The scent of the flower says that they are corpses. The evening bell tolls their knell.”

“You make me quite sorrowful，” said little Gerda; “your perfume is so strong， you make me think of the dead maidens. Ah! is little Kay really dead then? The roses have been in the earth， and they say no.”

“Cling， clang，” tolled the hyacinth bells. “We are not tolling for little Kay; we do not know him. We sing our song， the only one we know.”

Then Gerda went to the buttercups that were glittering amongst the bright green leaves.

“You are little bright suns，” said Gerda; “tell me if you know where I can find my play-fellow.”

And the buttercups sparkled gayly， and looked again at Gerda. What song could the buttercups sing? It was not about Kay.

“The bright warm sun shone on a little court， on the first warm day of spring. His bright beams rested on the white walls of the neighboring house; and close by bloomed the first yellow flower of the season， glittering like gold in the sun's warm ray. An old woman sat in her arm chair at the house door， and her granddaughter， a poor and pretty servant-maid came to see her for a short visit. When she kissed her grandmother there was gold everywhere: the gold of the heart in that holy kiss; it was a golden morning; there was gold in the beaming sunlight， gold in the leaves of the lowly flower， and on the lips of the maiden. There， that is my story，” said the buttercup.

“My poor old grandmother!” sighed Gerda; “she is longing to see me， and grieving for me as she did for little Kay; but I shall soon go home now， and take little Kay with me. It is no use asking the flowers; they know only their own songs， and can give me no information.”

And then she tucked up her little dress， that she might run faster， but the narcissus caught her by the leg as she was jumping over it; so she stopped and looked at the tall yellow flower， and said， “Perhaps you may know something.”

Then she stooped down quite close to the flower， and listened; and what did he say?

“I can see myself， I can see myself，” said the narcissus. “Oh， how sweet is my perfume! Up in a little room with a bow window， stands a little dancing girl， half undressed; she stands sometimes on one leg， and sometimes on both， and looks as if she would tread the whole world under her feet. She is nothing but a delusion. She is pouring water out of a tea-pot on a piece of stuff which she holds in her hand; it is her bodice. ‘Cleanliness is a good thing，’ she says. Her white dress hangs on a peg; it has also been washed in the tea-pot， and dried on the roof. She puts it on， and ties a saffron-colored handkerchief round her neck， which makes the dress look whiter. See how she stretches out her legs， as if she were showing off on a stem. I can see myself， I can see myself.”

“What do I care for all that，” said Gerda， “you need not tell me such stuff.” And then she ran to the other end of the garden. The door was fastened， but she pressed against the rusty latch， and it gave way. The door sprang open， and little Gerda ran out with bare feet into the wide world. She looked back three times， but no one seemed to be following her. At last she could run no longer， so she sat down to rest on a great stone， and when she looked round she saw that the summer was over， and autumn very far advanced. She had known nothing of this in the beautiful garden， where the sun shone and the flowers grew all the year round.

“Oh， how I have wasted my time?” said little Gerda; “it is autumn. I must not rest any longer，” and she rose up to go on. But her little feet were wounded and sore， and everything around her looked so cold and bleak. The long willow-leaves were quite yellow. The dew-drops fell like water， leaf after leaf dropped from the trees， the sloe-thorn alone still bore fruit， but the sloes were sour， and set the teeth on edge. Oh， how dark and weary the whole world appeared!

Fourth Story The Prince and Princess

Gerda was obliged to rest again， and just opposite the place where she sat， she saw a great crow come hopping across the snow toward her. He stood looking at her for some time， and then he wagged his head and said， “Caw， caw; good-day， good-day.” He pronounced the words as plainly as he could， because he meant to be kind to the little girl; and then he asked her where she was going all alone in the wide world.

The word alone Gerda understood very well， and knew how much it expressed. So then she told the crow the whole story of her life and adventures， and asked him if he had seen little Kay.

The crow nodded his head very gravely， and said， “Perhaps I have—it may be.”

“No! Do you think you have?” cried little Gerda， and she kissed the crow， and hugged him almost to death with joy.

“Gently， gently，” said the crow. “I believe I know. I think it may be little Kay; but he has certainly forgotten you by this time for the princess.”

“Does he live with a princess?” asked Gerda.

“Yes， listen，” replied the crow， “but it is so difficult to speak your language. If you understand the crows' language then I can explain it better. Do you?”

“No， I have never learnt it，” said Gerda， “but my grandmother understands it， and used to speak it to me. I wish I had learnt it.”

“It does not matter，” answered the crow; “I will explain as well as I can， although it will be very badly done;” and he told her what he had heard. “In this kingdom where we now are，” said he， “there lives a princess， who is so wonderfully clever that she has read all the newspapers in the world， and forgotten them too， although she is so clever. A short time ago， as she was sitting on her throne， which people say is not such an agreeable seat as is often supposed， she began to sing a song which commences in these words:

‘Why should I not be married?’

‘Why not indeed?’ said she， and so she determined to marry if she could find a husband who knew what to say when he was spoken to， and not one who could only look grand， for that was so tiresome. Then she assembled all her court ladies together at the beat of the drum， and when they heard of her intentions they were very much pleased. ‘We are so glad to hear it，’ said they， ‘we were talking about it ourselves the other day.’ You may believe that every word I tell you is true，” said the crow， “for I have a tame sweetheart who goes freely about the palace， and she told me all this.”

Of course his sweetheart was a crow， for “birds of a feather flock together，” and one crow always chooses another crow.

“Newspapers were published immediately， with a border of hearts， and the initials of the princess among them. They gave notice that every young man who was handsome was free to visit the castle and speak with the princess; and those who could reply loud enough to be heard when spoken to， were to make themselves quite at home at the palace; but the one who spoke best would be chosen as a husband for the princess. Yes， yes， you may believe me， it is all as true as I sit here，” said the crow. “The people came in crowds. There was a great deal of crushing and running about， but no one succeeded either on the first or second day. They could all speak very well while they were outside in the streets， but when they entered the palace gates， and saw the guards in silver uniforms， and the footmen in their golden livery on the staircase， and the great halls lighted up， they became quite confused. And when they stood before the throne on which the princess sat， they could do nothing but repeat the last words she had said; and she had no particular wish to hear her own words over again. It was just as if they had all taken something to make them sleepy while they were in the palace， for they did not recover themselves nor speak till they got back again into the street. There was quite a long line of them reaching from the town-gate to the palace. I went myself to see them，” said the crow. “They were hungry and thirsty， for at the palace they did not get even a glass of water. Some of the wisest had taken a few slices of bread and butter with them， but they did not share it with their neighbors; they thought if they went in to the princess looking hungry， there would be a better chance for themselves.”

“But Kay! tell me about little Kay!” said Gerda， “was he amongst the crowd?”

“Stop a bit， we are just coming to him. It was on the third day， there came marching cheerfully along to the palace a little personage， without horses or carriage， his eyes sparkling like yours; he had beautiful long hair， but his clothes were very poor.”

“That was Kay!” said Gerda joyfully. “Oh， then I have found him;” and she clapped her hands.

“He had a little knapsack on his back，” added the crow.

“No， it must have been his sledge，” said Gerda; “for he went away with it.”

“It may have been so，” said the crow; “I did not look at it very closely. But I know from my tame sweetheart that he passed through the palace gates， saw the guards in their silver uniform， and the servants in their liveries of gold on the stairs， but he was not in the least embarrassed. ‘It must be very tiresome to stand on the stairs，’ he said. ‘I prefer to go in.’ The rooms were blazing with light. Councillors and ambassadors walked about with bare feet， carrying golden vessels; it was enough to make any one feel serious. His boots creaked loudly as he walked， and yet he was not at all uneasy.”

“It must be Kay，” said Gerda， “I know he had new boots on， I have heard them creak in grandmother's room.”

“They really did creak，” said the crow， “yet he went boldly up to the princess herself， who was sitting on a pearl as large as a spinning wheel， and all the ladies of the court were present with their maids， and all the cavaliers with their servants; and each of the maids had another maid to wait upon her， and the cavaliers' servants had their own servants， as well as a page each. They all stood in circles round the princess， and the nearer they stood to the door， the prouder they looked. The servants' pages， who always wore slippers， could hardly be looked at， they held themselves up so proudly by the door.”

“It must be quite awful，” said little Gerda， “but did Kay win the princess?”

“If I had not been a crow，” said he， “I would have married her myself， although I am engaged. He spoke just as well as I do， when I speak the crows' language， so I heard from my tame sweetheart. He was quite free and agreeable and said he had not come to woo the princess， but to hear her wisdom; and he was as pleased with her as she was with him.”

“Oh， certainly that was Kay，” said Gerda， “he was so clever; he could work mental arithmetic and fractions. Oh， will you take me to the palace?”

“It is very easy to ask that，” replied the crow， “but how are we to manage it? However， I will speak about it to my tame sweetheart， and ask her advice; for I must tell you it will be very difficult to gain permission for a little girl like you to enter the palace.”

“Oh， yes; but I shall gain permission easily，” said Gerda， “for when Kay hears that I am here， he will come out and fetch me in immediately.”

“Wait for me here by the palings，” said the crow， wagging his head as he flew away.

It was late in the evening before the crow returned. “Caw， caw，” he said， “she sends you greeting， and here is a little roll which she took from the kitchen for you; there is plenty of bread there， and she thinks you must be hungry. It is not possible for you to enter the palace by the front entrance. The guards in silver uniform and the servants in gold livery would not allow it. But do not cry， we will manage to get you in; my sweetheart knows a little back-staircase that leads to the sleeping apartments， and she knows where to find the key.”

Then they went into the garden through the great avenue， where the leaves were falling one after another， and they could see the light in the palace being put out in the same manner. And the crow led little Gerda to the back door， which stood ajar. Oh! how little Gerda's heart beat with anxiety and longing; it was just as if she were going to do something wrong， and yet she only wanted to know where little Kay was. “It must be he，” she thought， “with those clear eyes， and that long hair.” She could fancy she saw him smiling at her， as he used to at home， when they sat among the roses. He would certainly be glad to see her， and to hear what a long distance she had come for his sake， and to know how sorry they had been at home because he did not come back. Oh what joy and yet fear she felt! They were now on the stairs， and in a small closet at the top a lamp was burning. In the middle of the floor stood the tame crow， turning her head from side to side， and gazing at Gerda， who curtseyed as her grandmother had taught her to do.

“My betrothed has spoken so very highly of you， my little lady，” said the tame crow， “your life-history， Vita， as it may be called， is very touching. If you will take the lamp I will walk before you. We will go straight along this way， then we shall meet no one.”

“It seems to me as if somebody were behind us，” said Gerda， as something rushed by her like a shadow on the wall， and then horses with flying manes and thin legs， hunters， ladies and gentlemen on horseback， glided by her， like shadows on the wall.

“They are only dreams，” said the crow， “they are coming to fetch the thoughts of the great people out hunting.”

“All the better， for we shall be able to look at them in their beds more safely. I hope that when you rise to honor and favor， you will show a grateful heart.”

“You may be quite sure of that，” said the crow from the forest.

They now came into the first hall， the walls of which were hung with rose-colored satin， embroidered with artificial flowers. Here the dreams again flitted by them but so quickly that Gerda could not distinguish the royal persons. Each hall appeared more splendid than the last， it was enough to bewilder any one. At length they reached a bedroom. The ceiling was like a great palm-tree， with glass leaves of the most costly crystal， and over the centre of the floor two beds， each resembling a lily， hung from a stem of gold. One， in which the princess lay， was white， the other was red; and in this Gerda had to seek for little Kay. She pushed one of the red leaves aside， and saw a little brown neck. Oh， that must be Kay! She called his name out quite loud， and held the lamp over him. The dreams rushed back into the room on horseback. He woke， and turned his head round， it was not little Kay! The prince was only like him in the neck， still he was young and pretty. Then the princess peeped out of her white-lily bed， and asked what was the matter. Then little Gerda wept and told her story， and all that the crows had done to help her.

“You poor child，” said the prince and princess; then they praised the crows， and said they were not angry for what they had done， but that it must not happen again， and this time they should be rewarded.

“Would you like to have your freedom?” asked the princess， “or would you prefer to be raised to the position of court crows， with all that is left in the kitchen for yourselves?”

Then both the crows bowed， and begged to have a fixed appointment， for they thought of their old age， and said it would be so comfortable to feel that they had provision for their old days， as they called it. And then the prince got out of his bed， and gave it up to Gerda，—he could do no more; and she lay down. She folded her little hands， and thought， “How good everyone is to me， men and animals too;” then she closed her eyes and fell into a sweet sleep. All the dreams came flying back again to her， and they looked like angels， and one of them drew a little sledge， on which sat Kay， and nodded to her. But all this was only a dream， and vanished as soon as she awoke.

The following day she was dressed from head to foot in silk and velvet， and they invited her to stay at the palace for a few days， and enjoy herself， but she only begged for a pair of boots， and a little carriage， and a horse to draw it， so that she might go into the wide world to seek for Kay. And she obtained， not only boots， but also a muff， and she was neatly dressed; and when she was ready to go， there， at the door， she found a coach made of pure gold， with the coat-of-arms of the prince and princess shining upon it like a star， and the coachman， footman， and outriders all wearing golden crowns on their heads. The prince and princess themselves helped her into the coach， and wished her success. The forest crow， who was now married， accompanied her for the first three miles; he sat by Gerda's side， as he could not bear riding backwards. The tame crow stood in the door-way flapping her wings. She could not go with them， because she had been suffering from headache ever since the new appointment， no doubt from eating too much. The coach was well stored with sweet cakes， and under the seat were fruit and gingerbread nuts. “Farewell， farewell，” cried the prince and princess， and little Gerda wept， and the crow wept; and then， after a few miles， the crow also said “Farewell，” and this was the saddest parting. However， he flew to a tree， and stood flapping his black wings as long as he could see the coach， which glittered in the bright sunshine.

Fifth Story Little Robber-Girl

The coach drove on through a thick forest， where it lighted up the way like a torch， and dazzled the eyes of some robbers， who could not bear to let it pass them unmolested.

“It is gold! it is gold!” cried they， rushing forward， and seizing the horses. Then they struck the little jockeys， the coachman， and the footman dead， and pulled little Gerda out of the carriage.

“She is fat and pretty， and she has been fed with the kernels of nuts，” said the old robber-woman， who had a long beard and eyebrows that hung over her eyes. “She is as good as a little lamb; how nice she will taste!” and as she said this， she drew forth a shining knife， that glittered horribly. “Oh!” screamed the old woman the same moment; for her own daughter， who held her back， had bitten her in the ear. She was a wild and naughty girl， and the mother called her an ugly thing， and had not time to kill Gerda.

“She shall play with me，” said the little robber-girl; “she shall give me her muff and her pretty dress， and sleep with me in my bed.” And then she bit her mother again， and made her spring in the air， and jump about; and all the robbers laughed， and said， “See how she is dancing with her young cub.”

“I will have a ride in the coach，” said the little robber-girl; and she would have her own way; for she was so self-willed and obstinate.

She and Gerda seated themselves in the coach， and drove away， over stumps and stones， into the depths of the forest. The little robber-girl was about the same size as Gerda， but stronger; she had broader shoulders and a darker skin; her eyes were quite black， and she had a mournful look. She clasped little Gerda round the waist， and said，“They shall not kill you as long as you don't make us vexed with you. I suppose you are a princess.”

“No，” said Gerda; and then she told her all her history， and how fond she was of little Kay.

The robber-girl looked earnestly at her， nodded her head slightly， and said， “They sha'nt kill you， even if I do get angry with you; for I will do it myself.” And then she wiped Gerda's eyes， and stuck her own hands in the beautiful muff which was so soft and warm.

The coach stopped in the courtyard of a robber's castle， the walls of which were cracked from top to bottom. Ravens and crows flew in and out of the holes and crevices， while great bulldogs， either of which looked as if it could swallow a man， were jumping about; but they were not allowed to bark. In the large and smoky hall a bright fire was burning on the stone floor. There was no chimney; so the smoke went up to the ceiling， and found a way out for itself. Soup was boiling in a large cauldron， and hares and rabbits were roasting on the spit.

“You shall sleep with me and all my little animals to-night，” said the robber-girl， after they had had something to eat and drink. So she took Gerda to a corner of the hall， where some straw and carpets were laid down. Above them， on laths and perches， were more than a hundred pigeons， who all seemed to be asleep， although they moved slightly when the two little girls came near them. “These all belong to me，” said the robber-girl; and she seized the nearest to her， held it by the feet， and shook it till it flapped its wings. “Kiss it，” cried she， flapping it in Gerda's face. “There sit the wood-pigeons，” continued she， pointing to a number of laths and a cage which had been fixed into the walls， near one of the openings. “Both rascals would fly away directly， if they were not closely locked up. And here is my old sweetheart ‘Ba;’” and she dragged out a reindeer by the horn; he wore a bright copper ring round his neck， and was tied up. “We are obliged to hold him tight too， or else he would run away from us also. I tickle his neck every evening with my sharp knife， which frightens him very much.” And then the robber-girl drew a long knife from a chink in the wall， and let it slide gently over the reindeer's neck. The poor animal began to kick， and the little robber-girl laughed， and pulled down Gerda into bed with her.

“Will you have that knife with you while you are asleep?” asked Gerda， looking at it in great fright.

“I always sleep with the knife by me，” said the robber-girl. “No one knows what may happen. But now tell me again all about little Kay， and why you went out into the world.”

Then Gerda repeated her story over again， while the wood-pigeons in the cage over her cooed， and the other pigeons slept. The little robber-girl put one arm across Gerda's neck， and held the knife in the other， and was soon fast asleep and snoring. But Gerda could not close her eyes at all; she knew not whether she was to live or die. The robbers sat round the fire， singing and drinking， and the old woman stumbled about. It was a terrible sight for a little girl to witness.

Then the wood-pigeons said， “Coo， coo; we have seen little Kay. A white fowl carried his sledge， and he sat in the carriage of the Snow Queen， which drove through the wood while we were lying in our nest. She blew upon us， and all the young ones died excepting us two. Coo， coo.”

“What are you saying up there?” cried Gerda. “Where was the Snow Queen going? Do you know anything about it?”

“She was most likely travelling to Lapland， where there is always snow and ice. Ask the reindeer that is fastened up there with a rope.”

“Yes， there is always snow and ice，” said the reindeer; “and it is a glorious place; you can leap and run about freely on the sparkling ice plains. The Snow Queen has her summer tent there， but her strong castle is at the North Pole， on an island called Spitzbergen.”

“Oh， Kay， little Kay!” sighed Gerda.

“Lie still，” said the robber-girl， “or I shall run my knife into your body.”

In the morning Gerda told her all that the wood-pigeons had said; and the little robber-girl looked quite serious， and nodded her head， and said， “That is all talk， that is all talk. Do you know where Lapland is?” she asked the reindeer.

“Who should know better than I do?” said the animal， while his eyes sparkled. “I was born and brought up there， and used to run about the snow-covered plains.”

“Now listen，” said the robber-girl; “all our men are gone away，— only mother is here， and here she will stay; but at noon she always drinks out of a great bottle， and afterwards sleeps for a little while; and then， I'll do something for you.” Then she jumped out of bed， clasped her mother round the neck， and pulled her by the beard， crying， “My own little nanny goat， good morning.” Then her mother filliped her nose till it was quite red; yet she did it all for love.

When the mother had drunk out of the bottle， and was gone to sleep， the little robber-maiden went to the reindeer， and said， “I should like very much to tickle your neck a few times more with my knife， for it makes you look so funny; but never mind，—I will untie your cord， and set you free， so that you may run away to Lapland; but you must make good use of your legs， and carry this little maiden to the castle of the Snow Queen， where her play-fellow is. You have heard what she told me， for she spoke loud enough， and you were listening.”

Then the reindeer jumped for joy; and the little robber-girl lifted Gerda on his back， and had the forethought to tie her on， and even to give her her own little cushion to sit on.

“Here are your fur boots for you，” said she; “for it will be very cold; but I must keep the muff; it is so pretty. However， you shall not be frozen for the want of it; here are my mother's large warm mittens; they will reach up to your elbows. Let me put them on. There， now your hands look just like my mother's.”

But Gerda wept for joy.

“I don't like to see you fret，” said the little robber-girl; “you ought to look quite happy now; and here are two loaves and a ham， so that you need not starve.” These were fastened on the reindeer， and then the little robber-maiden opened the door， coaxed in all the great dogs， and then cut the string with which the reindeer was fastened， with her sharp knife， and said， “Now run， but mind you take good care of the little girl.” And then Gerda stretched out her hand， with the great mitten on it， towards the little robber-girl， and said， “Farewell，” and away flew the reindeer， over stumps and stones， through the great forest， over marshes and plains， as quickly as he could. The wolves howled， and the ravens screamed; while up in the sky quivered red lights like flames of fire. “There are my old northern lights，” said the reindeer; “see how they flash.” And he ran on day and night still faster and faster， but the loaves and the ham were all eaten by the time they reached Lapland.

Sixth Story The Lapland Woman and the Finland Woman

They stopped at a little hut; it was very mean looking; the roof sloped nearly down to the ground， and the door was so low that the family had to creep in on their hands and knees， when they went in and out. There was no one at home but an old Lapland woman， who was cooking fish by the light of a train-oil lamp. The reindeer told her all about Gerda's story， after having first told his own， which seemed to him the most important， but Gerda was so pinched with the cold that she could not speak. “Oh， you poor things，” said the Lapland woman， “you have a long way to go yet. You must travel more than a hundred miles farther， to Finland. The Snow Queen lives there now， and she burns Bengal lights every evening. I will write a few words on a dried stock-fish， for I have no paper， and you can take it from me to the Finland woman who lives there; she can give you better information than I can.” So when Gerda was warmed， and had taken something to eat and drink， the woman wrote a few words on the dried fish， and told Gerda to take great care of it. Then she tied her again on the reindeer， and he set off at full speed. Flash， flash， went the beautiful blue northern lights in the air the whole night long. And at length they reached Finland， and knocked at the chimney of the Finland woman's hut， for it had no door above the ground. They crept in， but it was so terribly hot inside that that woman wore scarcely any clothes; she was small and very dirty looking. She loosened little Gerda's dress， and took off the fur boots and the mittens， or Gerda would have been unable to bear the heat; and then she placed a piece of ice on the reindeer's head， and read what was written on the dried fish. After she had read it three times， she knew it by heart， so she popped the fish into the soup saucepan， as she knew it was good to eat， and she never wasted anything. The reindeer told his own story first， and then little Gerda's， and the Finlander twinkled with her clever eyes， but she said nothing. “You are so clever，” said the reindeer; “I know you can tie all the winds of the world with a piece of twine. If a sailor unties one knot， he has a fair wind; when he unties the second， it blows hard; but if the third and fourth are loosened， then comes a storm， which will root up whole forests. Cannot you give this little maiden something which will make her as strong as twelve men， to overcome the Snow Queen?”

“The Power of twelve men!” said the Finland woman; “that would be of very little use.” But she went to a shelf and took down and unrolled a large skin， on which were inscribed wonderful characters， and she read till the perspiration ran down from her forehead. But the reindeer begged so hard for little Gerda， and Gerda looked at the Finland woman with such beseeching tearful eyes， that her own eyes began to twinkle again; so she drew the reindeer into a corner， and whispered to him while she laid a fresh piece of ice on his head， “Little Kay is really with the Snow Queen， but he finds everything there so much to his taste and his liking， that he believes it is the finest place in the world; but this is because he has a piece of broken glass in his heart， and a little piece of glass in his eye. These must be taken out， or he will never be a human being again， and the Snow Queen will retain her power over him.”

“But can you not give little Gerda something to help her to conquer this power?”

“I can give her no greater power than she has already，” said the woman; “don't you see how strong that is? How men and animals are obliged to serve her， and how well she has got through the world， barefooted as she is. She cannot receive any power from me greater than she now has， which consists in her own purity and innocence of heart. If she cannot herself obtain access to the Snow Queen， and remove the glass fragments from little Kay， we can do nothing to help her. Two miles from here the Snow Queen's garden begins; you can carry the little girl so far， and set her down by the large bush which stands in the snow， covered with red berries. Do not stay gossiping， but come back here as quickly as you can.” Then the Finland woman lifted little Gerda upon the reindeer， and he ran away with her as quickly as he could.

“Oh， I have forgotten my boots and my mittens，” cried little Gerda， as soon as she felt the cutting cold， but the reindeer dared not stop， so he ran on till he reached the bush with the red berries; here he set Gerda down， and he kissed her， and the great bright tears trickled over the animal's cheeks; then he left her and ran back as fast as he could.

There stood poor Gerda， without shoes， without gloves， in the midst of cold， dreary， icebound Finland. She ran forwards as quickly as she could， when a whole regiment of snow-flakes came round her; they did not， however， fall from the sky， which was quite clear and glittering with the northern lights. The snow-flakes ran along the ground， and the nearer they came to her， the larger they appeared. Gerda remembered how large and beautiful they looked through the burning-glass. But these were really larger， and much more terrible， for they were alive， and were the guards of the Snow Queen， and had the strangest shapes. Some were like great porcupines， others like twisted serpents with their heads stretching out， and some few were like little fat bears with their hair bristled; but all were dazzlingly white， and all were living snow-flakes. Then little Gerda repeated the Lord's Prayer， and the cold was so great that she could see her own breath come out of her mouth like steam as she uttered the words. The steam appeared to increase， as she continued her prayer， till it took the shape of little angels who grew larger the moment they touched the earth. They all wore helmets on their heads， and carried spears and shields. Their number continued to increase more and more; and by the time Gerda had finished her prayers， a whole legion stood round her. They thrust their spears into the terrible snow-flakes， so that they shivered into a hundred pieces， and little Gerda could go forward with courage and safety. The angels stroked her hands and feet， so that she felt the cold less， and she hastened on to the Snow Queen's castle.

But now we must see what Kay is doing. In truth he thought not of little Gerda， and never supposed she could be standing in the front of the palace.

Seventh Story Of the Palace of the Snow Queen and What Happened There At Last

The walls of the palace were formed of drifted snow， and the windows and doors of the cutting winds. There were more than a hundred rooms in it， all as if they had been formed with snow blown together. The largest of them extended for several miles; they were all lighted up by the vivid light of the aurora， and they were so large and empty， so icy cold and glittering! There were no amusements here， not even a little bear's ball， when the storm might have been the music， and the bears could have danced on their hind legs， and shown their good manners. There were no pleasant games of snap-dragon， or touch， or even a gossip over the tea-table， for the young-lady foxes. Empty， vast， and cold were the halls of the Snow Queen. The flickering flame of the northern lights could be plainly seen， whether they rose high or low in the heavens， from every part of the castle. In the midst of its empty， endless hall of snow was a frozen lake， broken on its surface into a thousand forms; each piece resembled another， from being in itself perfect as a work of art， and in the centre of this lake sat the Snow Queen， when she was at home. She called the lake “The Mirror of Reason，” and said that it was the best， and indeed the only one in the world.

Little Kay was quite blue with cold， indeed almost black， but he did not feel it; for the Snow Queen had kissed away the icy shiverings， and his heart was already a lump of ice. He dragged some sharp， flat pieces of ice to and fro， and placed them together in all kinds of positions， as if he wished to make something out of them; just as we try to form various figures with little tablets of wood which we call “a Chinese puzzle.” Kay's fingers were very artistic; it was the icy game of reason at which he played， and in his eyes the figures were very remarkable， and of the highest importance; this opinion was owing to the piece of glass still sticking in his eye. He composed many complete figures， forming different words， but there was one word he never could manage to form， although he wished it very much. It was the word “Eternity.” The Snow Queen had said to him， “When you can find out this， you shall be your own master， and I will give you the whole world and a new pair of skates.” But he could not accomplish it.

“Now I must hasten away to warmer countries，” said the Snow Queen. “I will go and look into the black craters of the tops of the burning mountains， Etna and Vesuvius， as they are called，—I shall make them look white， which will be good for them， and for the lemons and the grapes.” And away flew the Snow Queen， leaving little Kay quite alone in the great hall which was so many miles in length; so he sat and looked at his pieces of ice， and was thinking so deeply， and sat so still， that any one might have supposed he was frozen.

Just at this moment it happened that little Gerda came through the great door of the castle. Cutting winds were raging around her， but she offered up a prayer and the winds sank down as if they were going to sleep; and she went on till she came to the large empty hall， and caught sight of Kay; she knew him directly; she flew to him and threw her arms round his neck， and held him fast， while she exclaimed， “Kay， dear little Kay， I have found you at last.”

But he sat quite still， stiff and cold.

Then little Gerda wept hot tears， which fell on his breast， and penetrated into his heart， and thawed the lump of ice， and washed away the little piece of glass which had stuck there. Then he looked at her， and she sang“Roses bloom and cease to be，But we shall the Christ-child see.”

Then Kay burst into tears， and he wept so that the splinter of glass swam out of his eye. Then he recognized Gerda， and said， joyfully， “Gerda， dear little Gerda， where have you been all this time， and where have I been?” And he looked all around him， and said， “How cold it is， and how large and empty it all looks，” and he clung to Gerda， and she laughed and wept for joy. It was so pleasing to see them that the pieces of ice even danced about; and when they were tired and went to lie down， they formed themselves into the letters of the word which the Snow Queen had said he must find out before he could be his own master， and have the whole world and a pair of new skates. Then Gerda kissed his cheeks， and they became blooming; and she kissed his eyes， and they shone like her own; she kissed his hands and his feet， and then he became quite healthy and cheerful. The Snow Queen might come home now when she pleased， for there stood his certainty of freedom， in the word she wanted， written in shining letters of ice.

Then they took each other by the hand， and went forth from the great palace of ice. They spoke of the grandmother， and of the roses on the roof， and as they went on the winds were at rest， and the sun burst forth. When they arrived at the bush with red berries， there stood the reindeer waiting for them， and he had brought another young reindeer with him， whose udders were full， and the children drank her warm milk and kissed her on the mouth. Then they carried Kay and Gerda first to the Finland woman， where they warmed themselves thoroughly in the hot room， and she gave them directions about their journey home. Next they went to the Lapland woman， who had made some new clothes for them， and put their sleighs in order. Both the reindeer ran by their side， and followed them as far as the boundaries of the country， where the first green leaves were budding. And here they took leave of the two reindeer and the Lapland woman， and all said—Farewell. Then the birds began to twitter， and the forest too was full of green young leaves; and out of it came a beautiful horse， which Gerda remembered， for it was one which had drawn the golden coach. A young girl was riding upon it， with a shining red cap on her head， and pistols in her belt. It was the little robber-maiden， who had got tired of staying at home; she was going first to the north， and if that did not suit her， she meant to try some other part of the world. She knew Gerda directly， and Gerda remembered her: it was a joyful meeting.

“You are a fine fellow to go gadding about in this way，” said she to little Kay， “I should like to know whether you deserve that any one should go to the end of the world to find you.”

But Gerda patted her cheeks， and asked after the prince and princess.

“They are gone to foreign countries，” said the robber-girl.

“And the crow?” asked Gerda.

“Oh， the crow is dead，” she replied; “his tame sweetheart is now a widow， and wears a bit of black worsted round her leg. She mourns very pitifully， but it is all stuff. But now tell me how you managed to get him back.”

Then Gerda and Kay told her all about it.

“Snip， snap， snare! it's all right at last，” said the robber-girl.

Then she took both their hands， and promised that if ever she should pass through the town， she would call and pay them a visit. And then she rode away into the wide world. But Gerda and Kay went hand-in-hand towards home; and as they advanced， spring appeared more lovely with its green verdure and its beautiful flowers. Very soon they recognized the large town where they lived， and the tall steeples of the churches， in which the sweet bells were ringing a merry peal as they entered it， and found their way to their grandmother's door. They went upstairs into the little room， where all looked just as it used to do. The old clock was going “tick， tick，” and the hands pointed to the time of day， but as they passed through the door into the room they perceived that they were both grown up， and become a man and woman. The roses out on the roof were in full bloom， and peeped in at the window; and there stood the little chairs， on which they had sat when children; and Kay and Gerda seated themselves each on their own chair， and held each other by the hand， while the cold empty grandeur of the Snow Queen's palace vanished from their memories like a painful dream. The grandmother sat in God's bright sunshine， and she read aloud from the Bible， “Except ye become as little children， ye shall in no wise enter into the kingdom of God.” And Kay and Gerda looked into each other's eyes， and all at once understood the words of the old song，“Roses bloom and cease to be，But we shall the Christ-child see.”

And they both sat there， grown up， yet children at heart; and it was summer，—warm， beautiful summer.

What the Old Man Does Is Always Right

I will tell you a story that was told me when I was a little boy. Every time I thought of this story， it seemed to me more and more charming; for it is with stories as it is with many people—they become better as they grow older.

I have no doubt that you have been in the country， and seen a very old farmhouse， with a thatched roof， and mosses and small plants growing wild upon it. There is a stork's nest on the ridge of the gable， for we cannot do without the stork. The walls of the house are sloping， and the windows are low， and only one of the latter is made to open. The baking-oven sticks out of the wall like a great knob. An elder-tree hangs over the palings; and beneath its branches， at the foot of the paling， is a pool of water， in which a few ducks are disporting themselves. There is a yard-dog too， who barks at all corners. Just such a farmhouse as this stood in a country lane; and in it dwelt an old couple， a peasant and his wife. Small as their possessions were， they had one article they could not do without， and that was a horse， which contrived to live upon the grass which it found by the side of the high road. The old peasant rode into the town upon this horse， and his neighbors often borrowed it of him， and paid for the loan of it by rendering some service to the old couple. After a time they thought it would be as well to sell the horse， or exchange it for something which might be more useful to them. But what might this something be?

“You'll know best， old man，” said the wife. “It is fair-day to-day; so ride into town， and get rid of the horse for money， or make a good exchange; whichever you do will be right to me， so ride to the fair.”

And she fastened his neckerchief for him; for she could do that better than he could， and she could also tie it very prettily in a double bow. She also smoothed his hat round and round with the palm of her hand， and gave him a kiss. Then he rode away upon the horse that was to be sold or bartered for something else. Yes， the old man knew what he was about. The sun shone with great heat， and not a cloud was to be seen in the sky. The road was very dusty; for a number of people， all going to the fair， were driving， riding， or walking upon it. There was no shelter anywhere from the hot sunshine. Among the rest a man came trudging along， and driving a cow to the fair. The cow was as beautiful a creature as any cow could be.

“She gives good milk， I am certain，” said the peasant to himself. “That would be a very good exchange: the cow for the horse. Hallo there! you with the cow，” he said. “I tell you what; I dare say a horse is of more value than a cow; but I don't care for that，—a cow will be more useful to me; so， if you like， we'll exchange.”

“To be sure I will，” said the man.

Accordingly the exchange was made; and as the matter was settled， the peasant might have turned back; for he had done the business he came to do. But， having made up his mind to go to the fair， he determined to do so， if only to have a look at it; so on he went to the town with his cow. Leading the animal， he strode on sturdily， and， after a short time， overtook a man who was driving a sheep. It was a good fat sheep， with a fine fleece on its back.

“I should like to have that fellow，” said the peasant to himself. “There is plenty of grass for him by our palings， and in the winter we could keep him in the room with us. Perhaps it would be more profitable to have a sheep than a cow. Shall I exchange?”

The man with the sheep was quite ready， and the bargain was quickly made. And then our peasant continued his way on the high-road with his sheep. Soon after this， he overtook another man， who had come into the road from a field， and was carrying a large goose under his arm.

“What a heavy creature you have there!” said the peasant; “it has plenty of feathers and plenty of fat， and would look well tied to a string， or paddling in the water at our place. That would be very useful to my old woman; she could make all sorts of profits out of it. How often she has said， ‘If now we only had a goose!’ Now here is an opportunity， and， if possible， I will get it for her. Shall we exchange? I will give you my sheep for your goose， and thanks into the bargain.”

The other had not the least objection， and accordingly the exchange was made， and our peasant became possessor of the goose. By this time he had arrived very near the town. The crowd on the high road had been gradually increasing， and there was quite a rush of men and cattle. The cattle walked on the path and by the palings， and at the turnpike-gate they even walked into the toll-keeper's potato-field， where one fowl was strutting about with a string tied to its leg， for fear it should take fright at the crowd， and run away and get lost. The tail-feathers of the fowl were very short， and it winked with both its eyes， and looked very cunning， as it said “Cluck， cluck.” What were the thoughts of the fowl as it said this I cannot tell you; but directly our good man saw it， he thought， “Why that's the finest fowl I ever saw in my life; it's finer than our parson's brood hen， upon my word. I should like to have that fowl. Fowls can always pick up a few grains that lie about， and almost keep themselves. I think it would be a good exchange if I could get it for my goose. Shall we exchange?” he asked the toll-keeper.

“Exchange，” repeated the man; “well， it would not be a bad thing.”

And so they made an exchange—the toll-keeper at the turnpike-gate kept the goose， and the peasant carried off the fowl. Now he had really done a great deal of business on his way to the fair， and he was hot and tired. He wanted something to eat， and a glass of ale to refresh himself; so he turned his steps to an inn. He was just about to enter when the ostler came out， and they met at the door. The ostler was carrying a sack. “What have you in that sack?” asked the peasant.

“Rotten apples，” answered the ostler; “a whole sackful of them. They will do to feed the pigs with.”

“Why that will be terrible waste，” he replied; “I should like to take them home to my old woman. Last year the old apple-tree by the grass-plot only bore one apple， and we kept it in the cupboard till it was quite withered and rotten. It was always property， my old woman said; and here she would see a great deal of property—a whole sackful; I should like to show them to her.”

“What will you give me for the sackful?” asked the ostler.

“What will I give? Well， I will give you my fowl in exchange.”

So he gave up the fowl， and received the apples， which he carried into the inn parlor. He leaned the sack carefully against the stove， and then went to the table. But the stove was hot， and he had not thought of that. Many guests were present—horse dealers， cattle drovers， and two Englishmen. The Englishmen were so rich that their pockets quite bulged out and seemed ready to burst; and they could bet too， as you shall hear. “Hiss-s-s， hiss-s-s.” What could that be by the stove? The apples were beginning to roast. “What is that?” asked one.

“Why， do you know”—said our peasant. And then he told them the whole story of the horse， which he had exchanged for a cow， and all the rest of it， down to the apples.

“Well， your old woman will give it you well when you get home，” said one of the Englishmen. “Won't there be a noise?”

“What! Give me what?” said the peasant. “Why， she will kiss me， and say， ‘what the old man does is always right.’”

“Let us lay a wager on it，” said the Englishmen. “We'll wager you a ton of coined gold， a hundred pounds to the hundred-weight.”

“No; a bushel will be enough，” replied the peasant. “I can only set a bushel of apples against it， and I'll throw myself and my old woman into the bargain; that will pile up the measure， I fancy.”

“Done! taken!” and so the bet was made.

Then the landlord's coach came to the door， and the two Englishmen and the peasant got in， and away they drove， and soon arrived and stopped at the peasant's hut. “Good evening， old woman.” “Good evening， old man.” “I've made the exchange.”

“Ah， well， you understand what you're about，” said the woman. Then she embraced him， and paid no attention to the strangers， nor did she notice the sack.

“I got a cow in exchange for the horse.”

“Thank Heaven，” said she. “Now we shall have plenty of milk， and butter， and cheese on the table. That was a capital exchange.”

“Yes， but I changed the cow for a sheep.”

“Ah， better still!” cried the wife. “You always think of everything; we have just enough pasture for a sheep. Ewe's milk and cheese， woollen jackets and stockings! The cow could not give all these， and her hair only falls off. How you think of everything!”

“But I changed away the sheep for a goose.”

“Then we shall have roast goose to eat this year. You dear old man， you are always thinking of something to please me. This is delightful. We can let the goose walk about with a string tied to her leg， so she will be fatter still before we roast her.”

“But I gave away the goose for a fowl.”

“A fowl! Well， that was a good exchange，” replied the woman. “The fowl will lay eggs and hatch them， and we shall have chickens; we shall soon have a poultry-yard. Oh， this is just what I was wishing for.”

“Yes， but I exchanged the fowl for a sack of shrivelled apples.”

“What! I really must give you a kiss for that!” exclaimed the wife. “My dear， good husband， now I'll tell you something. Do you know， almost as soon as you left me this morning， I began to think of what I could give you nice for supper this evening， and then I thought of fried eggs and bacon， with sweet herbs; I had eggs and bacon， but I wanted the herbs; so I went over to the schoolmaster's: I knew they had plenty of herbs， but the schoolmistress is very mean， although she can smile so sweetly. I begged her to lend me a handful of herbs. ‘Lend!’ she exclaimed， ‘I have nothing to lend; nothing at all grows in our garden， not even a shrivelled apple; I could not even lend you a shrivelled apple， my dear woman.’ But now I can lend her ten， or a whole sackful， which I'm very glad of; it makes me laugh to think about it;” and then she gave him a hearty kiss.

“Well， I like all this，” said both the Englishmen; “always going down the hill， and yet always merry; it's worth the money to see it.” So they paid a hundred-weight of gold to the peasant， who， whatever he did， was not scolded but kissed.

Yes， it always pays best when the wife sees and maintains that her husband knows best， and whatever he does is right.

That is a story which I heard when I was a child; and now you have heard it too， and know that “What the old man does is always right.”

The Tinder-Box

A soldier came marching along the high road: “Left， right—left， right.” He had his knapsack on his back， and a sword at his side; he had been to the wars， and was now returning home.

As he walked on， he met a very frightful-looking old witch in the road. Her under-lip hung quite down on her breast， and she stopped and said， “Good evening， soldier; you have a very fine sword， and a large knapsack， and you are a real soldier; so you shall have as much money as ever you like.”

“Thank you， old witch，” said the soldier.

“Do you see that large tree，” said the witch， pointing to a tree which stood beside them. “Well， it is quite hollow inside， and you must climb to the top， when you will see a hole， through which you can let yourself down into the tree to a great depth. I will tie a rope round your body， so that I can pull you up again when you call out to me.”

“But what am I to do， down there in the tree?” asked the soldier.

“Get money，” she replied; “for you must know that when you reach the ground under the tree， you will find yourself in a large hall， lighted up by three hundred lamps; you will then see three doors， which can be easily opened， for the keys are in all the locks. On entering the first of the chambers， to which these doors lead， you will see a large chest， standing in the middle of the floor， and upon it a dog seated， with a pair of eyes as large as teacups. But you need not be at all afraid of him; I will give you my blue checked apron， which you must spread upon the floor， and then boldly seize hold of the dog， and place him upon it. You can then open the chest， and take from it as many pence as you please， they are only copper pence; but if you would rather have silver money， you must go into the second chamber. Here you will find another dog， with eyes as big as mill-wheels; but do not let that trouble you. Place him upon my apron， and then take what money you please. If， however， you like gold best， enter the third chamber， where there is another chest full of it. The dog who sits on this chest is very dreadful; his eyes are as big as a tower， but do not mind him. If he also is placed upon my apron， he cannot hurt you， and you may take from the chest what gold you will.”

“This is not a bad story，” said the soldier; “but what am I to give you， you old witch? for， of course， you do not mean to tell me all this for nothing.”

“No，” said the witch; “but I do not ask for a single penny. Only promise to bring me an old tinder-box， which my grandmother left behind the last time she went down there.”

“Very well; I promise. Now tie the rope round my body.”

“Here it is，” replied the witch; “and here is my blue checked apron.”

As soon as the rope was tied， the soldier climbed up the tree， and let himself down through the hollow to the ground beneath; and here he found， as the witch had told him， a large hall， in which many hundred lamps were all burning. Then he opened the first door. “Ah!” there sat the dog， with the eyes as large as teacups， staring at him.

“You're a pretty fellow，” said the soldier， seizing him， and placing him on the witch's apron， while he filled his pockets from the chest with as many pieces as they would hold. Then he closed the lid， seated the dog upon it again， and walked into another chamber， And， sure enough， there sat the dog with eyes as big as mill-wheels.

“You had better not look at me in that way，” said the soldier; “you will make your eyes water;” and then he seated him also upon the apron， and opened the chest. But when he saw what a quantity of silver money it contained， he very quickly threw away all the coppers he had taken， and filled his pockets and his knapsack with nothing but silver.

Then he went into the third room， and there the dog was really hideous; his eyes were， truly， as big as towers， and they turned round and round in his head like wheels.

“Good morning，” said the soldier， touching his cap， for he had never seen such a dog in his life. But after looking at him more closely， he thought he had been civil enough， so he placed him on the floor， and opened the chest. Good gracious， what a quantity of gold there was! enough to buy all the sugar-sticks of the sweet-stuff women; all the tin soldiers， whips， and rocking-horses in the world， or even the whole town itself. There was， indeed， an immense quantity. So the soldier now threw away all the silver money he had taken， and filled his pockets and his knapsack with gold instead; and not only his pockets and his knapsack， but even his cap and boots， so that he could scarcely walk.

He was really rich now; so he replaced the dog on the chest， closed the door， and called up through the tree， “Now pull me out， you old witch.”

“Have you got the tinder-box?” asked the witch.

“No; I declare I quite forgot it.” So he went back and fetched the tinderbox， and then the witch drew him up out of the tree， and he stood again in the high road， with his pockets， his knapsack， his cap， and his boots full of gold.

“What are you going to do with the tinder-box?” asked the soldier.

“That is nothing to you，” replied the witch; “you have the money， now give me the tinder-box.”

“I tell you what，” said the soldier， “if you don't tell me what you are going to do with it， I will draw my sword and cut off your head.”

“No，” said the witch.

The soldier immediately cut off her head， and there she lay on the ground. Then he tied up all his money in her apron. and slung it on his back like a bundle， put the tinderbox in his pocket， and walked off to the nearest town. It was a very nice town， and he put up at the best inn， and ordered a dinner of all his favorite dishes， for now he was rich and had plenty of money.

The servant， who cleaned his boots， thought they certainly were a shabby pair to be worn by such a rich gentleman， for he had not yet bought any new ones. The next day， however， he procured some good clothes and proper boots， so that our soldier soon became known as a fine gentleman， and the people visited him， and told him all the wonders that were to be seen in the town， and of the king's beautiful daughter， the princess.

“Where can I see her?” asked the soldier.

“She is not to be seen at all，” they said; “she lives in a large copper castle， surrounded by walls and towers. No one but the king himself can pass in or out， for there has been a prophecy that she will marry a common soldier， and the king cannot bear to think of such a marriage.”

“I should like very much to see her，” thought the soldier; but he could not obtain permission to do so. However， he passed a very pleasant time; went to the theatre， drove in the king's garden， and gave a great deal of money to the poor， which was very good of him; he remembered what it had been in olden times to be without a shilling. Now he was rich， had fine clothes， and many friends， who all declared he was a fine fellow and a real gentleman， and all this gratified him exceedingly. But his money would not last forever; and as he spent and gave away a great deal daily， and received none， he found himself at last with only two shillings left. So he was obliged to leave his elegant rooms， and live in a little garret under the roof， where he had to clean his own boots， and even mend them with a large needle. None of his friends came to see him， there were too many stairs to mount up. One dark evening， he had not even a penny to buy a candle; then all at once he remembered that there was a piece of candle stuck in the tinder-box， which he had brought from the old tree， into which the witch had helped him.

He found the tinder-box， but no sooner had he struck a few sparks from the flint and steel， than the door flew open and the dog with eyes as big as teacups， whom he had seen while down in the tree， stood before him， and said， “What orders， master?”

“Hallo，” said the soldier; “well this is a pleasant tinderbox， if it brings me all I wish for.”

“Bring me some money，” said he to the dog.

He was gone in a moment， and presently returned， carrying a large bag of coppers in his month. The soldier very soon discovered after this the value of the tinder-box. If he struck the flint once， the dog who sat on the chest of copper money made his appearance; if twice， the dog came from the chest of silver; and if three times， the dog with eyes like towers， who watched over the gold. The soldier had now plenty of money; he returned to his elegant rooms， and reappeared in his fine clothes， so that his friends knew him again directly， and made as much of him as before.

After a while he began to think it was very strange that no one could get a look at the princess. “Every one says she is very beautiful，” thought he to himself; “but what is the use of that if she is to be shut up in a copper castle surrounded by so many towers. Can I by any means get to see her. Stop! where is my tinder-box?” Then he struck a light， and in a moment the dog， with eyes as big as teacups， stood before him.

“It is midnight，” said the soldier， “yet I should very much like to see the princess， if only for a moment.”

The dog disappeared instantly， and before the soldier could even look round， he returned with the princess. She was lying on the dog's back asleep， and looked so lovely， that every one who saw her would know she was a real princess. The soldier could not help kissing her， true soldier as he was. Then the dog ran back with the princess; but in the morning， while at breakfast with the king and queen， she told them what a singular dream she had had during the night， of a dog and a soldier， that she had ridden on the dog's back， and been kissed by the soldier.

“That is a very pretty story， indeed，” said the queen. So the next night one of the old ladies of the court was set to watch by the princess's bed， to discover whether it really was a dream， or what else it might be.

The soldier longed very much to see the princess once more， so he sent for the dog again in the night to fetch her， and to run with her as fast as ever he could. But the old lady put on water boots， and ran after him as quickly as he did， and found that he carried the princess into a large house. She thought it would help her to remember the place if she made a large cross on the door with a piece of chalk. Then she went home to bed， and the dog presently returned with the princess. But when he saw that a cross had been made on the door of the house， where the soldier lived， he took another piece of chalk and made crosses on all the doors in the town， so that the lady-in-waiting might not be able to find out the right door.

Early the next morning the king and queen accompanied the lady and all the officers of the household， to see where the princess had been.

“Here it is，” said the king， when they came to the first door with a cross on it.

“No， my dear husband， it must be that one，” said the queen， pointing to a second door having a cross also.

“And here is one， and there is another!” they all exclaimed; for there were crosses on all the doors in every direction.

So they felt it would be useless to search any farther. But the queen was a very clever woman; she could do a great deal more than merely ride in a carriage. She took her large gold scissors， cut a piece of silk into squares， and made a neat little bag. This bag she filled with buckwheat flour， and tied it round the princess's neck; and then she cut a small hole in the bag， so that the flour might be scattered on the ground as the princess went along. During the night， the dog came again and carried the princess on his back， and ran with her to the soldier， who loved her very much， and wished that he had been a prince， so that he might have her for a wife. The dog did not observe how the flour ran out of the bag all the way from the castle wall to the soldier's house， and even up to the window， where he had climbed with the princess. Therefore in the morning the king and queen found out where their daughter had been， and the soldier was taken up and put in prison. Oh， how dark and disagreeable it was as he sat there， and the people said to him， “To-morrow you will be hanged.” It was not very pleasant news， and besides， he had left the tinder-box at the inn. In the morning he could see through the iron grating of the little window how the people were hastening out of the town to see him hanged; he heard the drums beating， and saw the soldiers marching. Every one ran out to look at them. and a shoemaker's boy， with a leather apron and slippers on， galloped by so fast， that one of his slippers flew off and struck against the wall where the soldier sat looking through the iron grating. “Hallo， you shoemaker's boy， you need not be in such a hurry，” cried the soldier to him. “There will be nothing to see till I come; but if you will run to the house where I have been living， and bring me my tinder-box， you shall have four shillings， but you must put your best foot foremost.”

The shoemaker's boy liked the idea of getting the four shillings， so he ran very fast and fetched the tinder-box， and gave it to the soldier. And now we shall see what happened. Outside the town a large gibbet had been erected， round which stood the soldiers and several thousands of people. The king and the queen sat on splendid thrones opposite to the judges and the whole council. The soldier already stood on the ladder; but as they were about to place the rope around his neck， he said that an innocent request was often granted to a poor criminal before he suffered death. He wished very much to smoke a pipe， as it would be the last pipe he should ever smoke in the world. The king could not refuse this request， so the soldier took his tinder-box， and struck fire， once， twice， thrice，— and there in a moment stood all the dogs;—the one with eyes as big as teacups， the one with eyes as large as mill-wheels， and the third， whose eyes were like towers. “Help me now， that I may not be hanged，” cried the soldier.

And the dogs fell upon the judges and all the councillors; seized one by the legs， and another by the nose， and tossed them many feet high in the air， so that they fell down and were dashed to pieces.

“I will not be touched，” said the king. But the largest dog seized him， as well as the queen， and threw them after the others. Then the soldiers and all the people were afraid， and cried， “Good soldier， you shall be our king， and you shall marry the beautiful princess.”

So they placed the soldier in the king's carriage， and the three dogs ran on in front and cried “Hurrah!” and the little boys whistled through their fingers， and the soldiers presented arms. The princess came out of the copper castle， and became queen， which was very pleasing to her. The wedding festivities lasted a whole week， and the dogs sat at the table， and stared with all their eyes.

The Flying Trunk

There was once a merchant who was so rich that he could have paved the whole street with gold， and would even then have had enough for a small alley. But he did not do so; he knew the value of money better than to use it in this way. So clever was he， that every shilling he put out brought him a crown; and so he continued till he died. His son inherited his wealth， and he lived a merry life with it; he went to a masquerade every night， made kites out of five pound notes， and threw pieces of gold into the sea instead of stones， making ducks and drakes of them. In this manner he soon lost all his money. At last he had nothing left but a pair of slippers， an old dressing-gown， and four shillings. And now all his friends deserted him， they could not walk with him in the streets; but one of them， who was very good-natured， sent him an old trunk with this message， “Pack up!” “Yes，” he said， “it is all very well to say ‘pack up，’” but he had nothing left to pack up， therefore he seated himself in the trunk. It was a very wonderful trunk; no sooner did any one press on the lock than the trunk could fly. He shut the lid and pressed the lock， when away flew the trunk up the chimney with the merchant's son in it， right up into the clouds. Whenever the bottom of the trunk cracked， he was in a great fright， for if the trunk fell to pieces he would have made a tremendous somerset over the trees. However， he got safely in his trunk to the land of Turkey. He hid the trunk in the wood under some dry leaves， and then went into the town: he could so this very well， for the Turks always go about dressed in dressing-gowns and slippers， as he was himself. He happened to meet a nurse with a little child. “I say， you Turkish nurse，” cried he， “what castle is that near the town， with the windows placed so high?”

“The king's daughter lives there，” she replied; “it has been prophesied that she will be very unhappy about a lover， and therefore no one is allowed to visit her， unless the king and queen are present.”

“Thank you，” said the merchant's son. So he went back to the wood， seated himself in his trunk， flew up to the roof of the castle， and crept through the window into the princess's room. She lay on the sofa asleep， and she was so beautiful that the merchant's son could not help kissing her. Then she awoke， and was very much frightened; but he told her he was a Turkish angel， who had come down through the air to see her， which pleased her very much. He sat down by her side and talked to her: he said her eyes were like beautiful dark lakes， in which the thoughts swam about like little mermaids， and he told her that her forehead was a snowy mountain， which contained splendid halls full of pictures. And then he related to her about the stork who brings the beautiful children from the rivers. These were delightful stories; and when he asked the princess if she would marry him， she consented immediately.

“But you must come on Saturday，” she said; “for then the king and queen will take tea with me. They will be very proud when they find that I am going to marry a Turkish angel; but you must think of some very pretty stories to tell them， for my parents like to hear stories better than anything. My mother prefers one that is deep and moral; but my father likes something funny， to make him laugh.”

“Very well，” he replied; “I shall bring you no other marriage portion than a story，” and so they parted. But the princess gave him a sword which was studded with gold coins， and these he could use.

Then he flew away to the town and bought a new dressing-gown， and afterwards returned to the wood， where he composed a story， so as to be ready for Saturday， which was no easy matter. It was ready however by Saturday， when he went to see the princess. The king， and queen， and the whole court， were at tea with the princess; and he was received with great politeness.

“Will you tell us a story?” said the queen，—“one that is instructive and full of deep learning.”

“Yes， but with something in it to laugh at，” said the king.

“Certainly，” he replied， and commenced at once， asking them to listen attentively. “There was once a bundle of matches that were exceedingly proud of their high descent. Their genealogical tree， that is， a large pine-tree from which they had been cut， was at one time a large， old tree in the wood. The matches now lay between a tinder-box and an old iron saucepan， and were talking about their youthful days. ‘Ah! then we grew on the green boughs， and were as green as they; every morning and evening we were fed with diamond drops of dew. Whenever the sun shone， we felt his warm rays， and the little birds would relate stories to us as they sung. We knew that we were rich， for the other trees only wore their green dress in summer， but our family were able to array themselves in green， summer and winter. But the wood-cutter came， like a great revolution， and our family fell under the axe. The head of the house obtained a situation as mainmast in a very fine ship， and can sail round the world when he will. The other branches of the family were taken to different places， and our office now is to kindle a light for common people. This is how such high-born people as we came to be in a kitchen.’“‘Mine has been a very different fate，’ said the iron pot， which stood by the matches; ‘from my first entrance into the world I have been used to cooking and scouring. I am the first in this house， when anything solid or useful is required. My only pleasure is to be made clean and shining after dinner， and to sit in my place and have a little sensible conversation with my neighbors. All of us， excepting the water-bucket， which is sometimes taken into the courtyard， live here together within these four walls. We get our news from the market-basket， but he sometimes tells us very unpleasant things about the people and the government. Yes， and one day an old pot was so alarmed， that he fell down and was broken to pieces. He was a liberal， I can tell you.’“‘You are talking too much，’ said the tinder-box， and the steel struck against the flint till some sparks flew out， crying， ‘We want a merry evening， don't we?’

“‘Yes， of course，’ said the matches， ‘let us talk about those who are the highest born.’

“‘No， I don't like to be always talking of what we are，’ remarked the saucepan; ‘let us think of some other amusement; I will begin. We will tell something that has happened to ourselves; that will be very easy， and interesting as well. On the Baltic Sea， near the Danish shore’“‘What a pretty commencement!’ said the plates; ‘we shall all like that story， I am sure.’

“‘Yes; well in my youth， I lived in a quiet family， where the furniture was polished， the floors scoured， and clean curtains put up every fortnight.’“‘What an interesting way you have of relating a story，’ said the carpet-broom; ‘it is easy to perceive that you have been a great deal in women's society， there is something so pure runs through what you say.’

“‘That is quite true，’ said the water-bucket; and he made a spring with joy， and splashed some water on the floor.

“Then the saucepan went on with his story， and the end was as good as the beginning.

“The plates rattled with pleasure， and the carpet-broom brought some green parsley out of the dust-hole and crowned the saucepan， for he knew it would vex the others; and he thought， ‘If I crown him to-day he will crown me to-morrow.’

“‘Now， let us have a dance，’ said the fire-tongs; and then how they danced and stuck up one leg in the air. The chair-cushion in the corner burst with laughter when she saw it.

“‘Shall I be crowned now?’ asked the fire-tongs; so the broom found another wreath for the tongs.

“‘They were only common people after all，’ thought the matches. The tea-urn was now asked to sing， but she said she had a cold， and could not sing without boiling heat. They all thought this was affectation， and because she did not wish to sing excepting in the parlor， when on the table with the grand people.

“In the window sat an old quill-pen， with which the maid generally wrote. There was nothing remarkable about the pen， excepting that it had been dipped too deeply in the ink， but it was proud of that.

“‘If the tea-urn won't sing，’ said the pen， ‘she can leave it alone; there is a nightingale in a cage who can sing; she has not been taught much， certainly， but we need not say anything this evening about that.’

“‘I think it highly improper，’ said the tea-kettle， who was kitchen singer， and half-brother to the tea-urn， ‘that a rich foreign bird should be listened to here. Is it patriotic? Let the market-basket decide what is right.’

“‘I certainly am vexed，’ said the basket; ‘inwardly vexed， more than any one can imagine. Are we spending the evening properly? Would it not be more sensible to put the house in order? If each were in his own place I would lead a game; this would be quite another thing.’

“‘Let us act a play，’ said they all. At the same moment the door opened， and the maid came in. Then not one stirred; they all remained quite still; yet， at the same time， there was not a single pot amongst them who had not a high opinion of himself， and of what he could do if he chose.

“‘Yes， if we had chosen，’ they each thought， ‘we might have spent a very pleasant evening.’

“The maid took the matches and lighted them; dear me， how they sputtered and blazed up!

“‘Now then，’ they thought， ‘every one will see that we are the first. How we shine; what a light we give!’ Even while they spoke their light went out.”

“What a capital story，” said the queen， “I feel as if I were really in the kitchen， and could see the matches; yes， you shall marry our daughter.”

“Certainly，” said the king， “you shall have our daughter.” The king said you to him because he was going to be one of the family. The wedding-day was fixed， and， on the evening before， the whole city was illuminated. Cakes and sweetmeats were thrown among the people. The street boys stood on tiptoe and shouted “hurrah，” and whistled between their fingers; altogether it was a very splendid affair.

“I will give them another treat，” said the merchant's son. So he went and bought rockets and crackers， and all sorts of fire-works that could be thought of， packed them in his trunk， and flew up with it into the air. What a whizzing and popping they made as they went off! The Turks， when they saw such a sight in the air， jumped so high that their slippers flew about their ears. It was easy to believe after this that the princess was really going to marry a Turkish angel.

As soon as the merchant's son had come down in his flying trunk to the wood after the fireworks， he thought， “I will go back into the town now， and hear what they think of the entertainment.” It was very natural that he should wish to know. And what strange things people did say， to be sure! every one whom he questioned had a different tale to tell， though they all thought it very beautiful.

“ I saw the Turkish angel myself，” said one; “he had eyes like glittering stars， and a head like foaming water.”

“He flew in a mantle of fire，” cried another， “and lovely little cherubs peeped out from the folds.”

He heard many more fine things about himself， and that the next day he was to be married. After this he went back to the forest to rest himself in his trunk. It had disappeared! A spark from the fireworks which remained had set it on fire; it was burnt to ashes! So the merchant's son could not fly any more， nor go to meet his bride. She stood all day on the roof waiting for him， and most likely she is waiting there still; while he wanders through the world telling fairy tales， but none of them so amusing as the one he related about the matches.

茶花女：汉英对照

第一章

我想，只有在长期的生活中对人进行研究才能成功塑造人物，就像学会一门语言之前需要认真学习一样。我自认为还没到能塑造人物的年龄，所以只能满足于讲故事了。在此，我恳请读者相信这是一个真实的故事，因为故事中涉及到的所有人，除了女主人公，都尚在人世，而且故事中大部分事实都是在巴黎能找到人证的。如果我的叙述不足，他们可以替我作证。同时，感谢上帝给我机会把这些事情记录下来，因为只有我了解故事的原委，否则也不可能写下这个动人而完整的故事。

下面就是我了解整个故事的始末。一八四七年三月十二日，我在拉菲特大街上看到一巨幅广告，广告内容是家具和大量珍玩拍卖，原因是物主去世，广告上没有提及物主的姓名，只是说拍卖将于十六日中午十二点至下午五点进行，地点在昂坦街九号。广告上还附言十三日和十四日将开放物主的住宅和家具供大家参观。

我一向喜欢珍玩，所以决定不错过这次机会，即使不买，也要凑个热闹。第二天，我就去了昂坦街九号。

我到得比较早，可一进去发现到场的人已有不少，男男女女都有。那些身穿天鹅绒大衣、肩披羊毛披肩、门口还有四轮大马车候着的女宾们都为她们眼前的奢华艳羡不已。

不久我便明白她们艳羡的原因了。我仔细看了屋里的陈设之后，不难看出这是一个妓女的宅子。然而，上流社会的贵妇们（当时的确有一些上流社会的贵妇）唯一感兴趣的也就是这些妓女的屋子。这种女人像她们一样，有着自己的四轮马车，在大歌剧院和意大利歌剧院都有包厢，而且常常跟她们并肩而坐，这种女人在巴黎社交场合恬不知耻地卖弄风情，炫耀她们的珠宝首饰和风流韵事。

而今这所宅子的女人死了，那些最高贵贞洁的女人终于有机会参观她的闺房，看来死亡已经净化了这座富丽堂皇而又淫气熏天的屋子的臭气。再说她们也可以借口说是来看拍卖会，根本不了解主人的情况。她们看到了大幅广告，想来看看广告上宣传的东西，想在买之前预先参观一下，这是再平常不过的事儿吧！然而，毋庸置疑，置身于这些精致漂亮的陈设之中，她们会情不自禁地去探究这个妓女过去生活的一些痕迹，去印证她们过去所听到的种种离奇故事。

不幸的是，那些离奇的故事已经随这个女人一起烟消云散了。不管这些贵妇多么地竭力寻找，她们所发现的也无非是死者身后要拍卖的那些东西，而对死者生前的生活状况却找不出一丝痕迹。再说，有许多东西也是值得买的。屋内陈设极尽奢华，有玫瑰木家具，布尔雕刻的柜子桌子，赛福尔花瓶，中国花瓶，萨克森的小雕像，绸缎，天鹅绒和镶花边刺绣精品等等，应有尽有。

我跟着那些比我先来的好奇贵妇在屋里来回参观。她们进了一间波斯风格装饰的屋子，我正要跟着进去，她们突然就笑着出来了，仿佛她们在对她们的好奇感到羞耻，我倒是想进去看个究竟。原来这是一个梳妆室，里面摆着各种饰品，显露出死者生前的奢靡生活。

靠墙放着一张桌子，大约宽三尺、长六尺的样子，桌上摆满了奥科克和奥迪奥的各种金银饰品，闪闪发光，真是琳琅满目。这上千件金银饰物都是来参观的贵妇们梳妆打扮的必需品。这些饰物显然是很长时间积攒下来的，而且肯定不是同一个情夫所赠。

参观妓女的闺房倒没觉得很惊奇，不管是什么东西，我都认真仔细地鉴赏每一处细节。我发现所有这些雕刻精美的物品上都刻着不同人名的首字母和印章标记。看着这些东西，每一件都让我联想到她出卖一次肉体，心想上帝对她还算仁慈，年轻的时候没有让她饱尝生活的艰辛，在她仍然美丽和奢华时死去，而不是年老色衰之时。对于妓女来说，衰老就是她们的第一次死亡。

对于女人来说，还有什么比年老色衰更悲惨的呢？还有什么比放荡女人到了晚年没有一点点尊严地活着甚至无人理会更让人抱恨终身呢？她们也悔恨，可悔的不是她们过去的所作所为，而是恨自己打错了算盘，年轻的时候挥金如土，到老来却一无所有。我认识一位曾经风流一时的老妇人，过去的生活留给她的只有一个女儿，长得很漂亮，跟她年轻时一样。母亲从来没对女儿说过“你是我的女儿”，只是要她养老，就像她曾经抚养她长大一样。她可怜的女儿叫路易丝。她违心地顺从母亲，既无情欲又无热情更无任何兴趣委身于人，就像她被迫干某种职业一样，她只好听命。

长期以来耳濡目染的都是荒淫堕落的生活，而且是从早年就开始了的生活，加上她长期体弱多病抑制了她分辨是非的能力，这种能力是上帝赐予的，但是没有人会想着要去帮她将这种能力发展下去。我永远忘不了这个姑娘，她每天几乎同一时间经过大街。她的母亲始终形影不离，就像普通母亲陪着自己的女儿一样。那时候我还年轻，很容易沾染上纵欲堕落的社会习气，但是我仍然记得，一看到那种丑恶的监视行为，我从心底里就感到蔑视和厌恶。她的脸庞流露着一个处女无法言表的无辜和抑郁。她简直就像一座委屈女郎的雕像。

一天，她突然容光焕发。上帝似乎眷顾她，在经历母亲替她规划好的堕落生活的同时，赐予了她那么一点点的幸福。再说，老天为什么不该在赋予她懦弱的性格、让她承受生活的重压和折磨之后给她一丝安慰呢？！终于，有一天，她发现自己怀孕了。她污秽灵魂的深处残存的那片纯洁让她欣喜若狂。什么样的灵魂都有一个精神寄托，那种感觉非常奇妙。路易丝迫不及待地把好消息告诉她母亲。说起来是件耻辱的事情，但是我现在不是在讲什么风流韵事，而是在讲真真实实的故事。如果我们觉得没有必要经常把这些遭受谴责、不被理解的女人的事情公诸于世更好的话，毋庸置疑，我们最好是不讲她们的故事。她们这些女人遭到谴责没地方申辩，遭到蔑视得不到公正的评判，这些已经是她们的耻辱了，可她妈妈跟女儿讲，两个人的生活就够艰难了，何况三个人，况且这样的孩子也没什么用，生她（他）简直就是浪费时间。

第二天，有一个助产婆——姑且说是她母亲的一个朋友吧——来看望路易丝，她已经躺在床上几天了，下床之后脸色更加苍白，身体越来越虚弱。

三个月后，一位男士怜悯她，试图帮助她恢复身心的创伤，可那次对她打击太大了，路易丝最后还是死了。她的母亲还活着，活得怎么样呢？天知道！

看到这些金银饰物，我情不自禁地想起了那个姑娘。我的沉思不知不觉便带走了光阴，此时，屋子里只剩下了我和一位服务员，他站在门口，密切监视着我是否偷了东西。

我走上前去，反而搞得服务员心神不宁。

“先生，”我说，“能告诉我这所宅子的房客的姓名吗？”

“玛格丽特·戈蒂埃小姐。”

我知道这个名字，也见过她本人。

“什么！”我对服务员说，“玛格丽特·戈蒂埃死了？”

“是的，先生。”

“她什么时候死的？”

“应该有三周了吧。”

“那为什么开放她的住所呢？”

“债主认为这样可以抬高价钱。你知道的，预先开放住所供大家参观可以招徕更多的买家。”

“这么说，她还欠着债？”

“欠不少呢，先生。”

“拍卖的钱够还债么？”

“有剩吧。”

“剩下的归谁呢？”

“她家人吧。”

“她还有家？”

“好像有。”

“谢谢你。”

服务员了解我的来意之后，向我行了个礼，之后我就出来了。

“可怜的姑娘！”回到家之后我自言自语道，“她一定死得挺惨。在她的圈子里，只有身体健康的时候才会有朋友。”我不由自主地同情玛格丽特·戈蒂埃的命运。

很多人会认为我很荒谬，可我总是对这些烟花女子是无限宽容的，而且我也觉得没有必要为这种同情感到不安。

一天，我去警局取护照，看到邻街有两个警察押送着一个可怜的女子。我不知道出了什么事。我只看到她一边痛苦地哭泣着，一边亲吻着才几个月大的孩子，因为她被带走就意味着骨肉分离。从此，我再也不敢轻易蔑视一个女人了。

第二章

拍卖定于十六日举行。参观和拍卖中间留了一天空隙，主要是为了留点时间拆卸那些悬挂着的饰品，帘子等。当时我刚从国外回来，没有人告诉我玛格丽特·戈蒂埃死亡的消息倒也是很自然的事。

玛格丽特长得很漂亮，不过这些女人活着的时候越是风光，死后就越是无人问津。她们就像升起的太阳、月亮或者星星，然后又悄无声息地落下去。假如她们年轻时就死了，她们的情人们会同时得到消息，因为在巴黎，名妓的所有情人其实相互之间都是朋友。大家会相互缅怀一下她的过去，之后还是照样过自己的日子，就像什么事都没发生过一样，更不用说掉一滴眼泪了。

如今，到了二十五岁的年龄，眼泪就变得很珍贵，决不乱洒，最多为抚养他们成人的双亲才流上几滴，来报答双亲的养育之恩。

虽然我的名字首字母没有刻在玛格丽特任何一件物品上，可我刚才不得不承认过的那种本能的同情和天性的怜悯，使我久久不能忘怀她的离逝。也许她并不值得我怀念。

记得我常常在布洛涅树林遇到玛格丽特，她那会儿每天都坐着由两匹棕色骏马驾着的一辆蓝色小四轮马车到香榭丽舍大街。那时候我一直觉得她跟圈子里的别的女人不同，再加上她姿色不凡，让她更出众。

这些可怜的女人出门的时候，身边总有一个什么人陪着。因为没有一个男人愿意把他们和这种女人的关系公开化，加上她们自己担心寂寞，所以她们总是带着那些经济条件不如她们的买不起车子的女伴，要么就是怎么打扮也挡不住年老色衰的老妇人。如果想了解马车女主人任何私密事情，尽可向她们请教。

玛格丽特却跟别人不同。她总是独自坐车到香榭丽舍，而且总是坐在马车的后部，冬天常常穿着皮毛大衣，夏天则是一身简单素雅的长裙。在这条大街上，她也常常遇到熟人，她也偶尔微笑着和他们打招呼，她这种是只有公爵夫人才有的微笑，而她的微笑只有他们才能觉察到。跟别人不同，她从不从圆形广场到香榭丽舍大街来回遛，她总是直接驱车去布洛涅。到那儿之后停下马车，溜一个小时，然后很快就坐车回家了。

所有这些我曾多次见过的情景至今历历在目，我惋惜这位姑娘的香消玉殒，就像人们惋惜一件精美的艺术品的毁坏一样。

玛格丽特是个绝色美女。尽管过于苗条和高挑，玛格丽特却有十足的才能，只要在穿着上稍作修饰，就能掩饰上帝的疏忽。她的羊毛披肩长可拖地，露出丝织裙两边大大的精致花边，她那紧贴在胸前的厚厚的暖手兜四周的褶皱都做得很精美，无论多么挑剔的人看，她完美的身段都是无可挑剔的。她的头长得小巧玲珑，简直就是一件精美的艺术品。像缪塞说的，好像是在母体里被精磨过似的。

她的脸蛋给人的大致印象是这样的：一张难以用语言形容的美丽的脸上镶嵌着一对乌黑的大眼睛，上面还有两道弯弯的柳叶眉，就像人工画出来似的。漂亮的睫毛盖着乌黑的眼睛，眼帘低下时，在红润剔透的脸庞上投射上一抹淡淡的影子；精致笔挺的鼻子显得很俏皮，鼻翼微微地张开，像是对情欲生活的强烈渴望；长得一张端正的小嘴，双唇微启，露出一口奶白的皓齿；皮肤就像没有被人摸过的水蜜桃表层的绒衣那么水嫩。黑玉色的头发像波浪一样卷曲，不知是自然留的还是经过梳理的。头发在前额分成两大绺，一直拖到脑后，露出两个耳垂和一对光芒四射、价值四五千法郎的钻石耳环。让我们百思不得其解的是，她怎么样能够在长时间纵欲堕落的情欲生活之后脸上还能呈现处女甚至是孩子般天真无邪的神态。

玛格丽特有一幅自己的画像，是维达尔替她画的，也只有他能把玛格丽特画得惟妙惟肖。她去世几天后，这幅画一直在我手里，画像跟真人惊人地相似，正好能帮我想起可能已经忘记了的她过去的点点滴滴。

这一章里面的有些情节是我后来才知道的，不过我现在就写下来，这样以后再讲这个女人的故事时就不必重新提及。

每逢首演，玛格丽特必到。她每晚都是在剧院或舞会上度过。只要有新剧上演，她一定去看。她总是携带三样东西：看戏的望远镜、一袋甜点和一束茶花，而且常常放在底层包厢的前栏上。

一个月有二十五天玛格丽特都带着白色的茶花，有五天带的是红色的，没有人知道其中的原因，我自己也没法解释。她总去的那些戏院的老观众和她的一些朋友也注意到了这一点。除了茶花，她从来没带过别的花。因为她常去巴绒夫人的花店买花，所以大家便习惯管她叫茶花女了。

就像住在巴黎的某个圈子的其他人一样，我知道玛格丽特当过上流社会一些风流倜傥的青年男子的情妇，她从不避讳，而且那些青年男子还用来炫耀，似乎他们彼此都挺满意的。然而，大约三年前她从巴涅尔旅行回来之后，她一直只和一个老公爵住在一起，这位老公爵是个外国人，非常有钱，他想尽办法帮助她摆脱过去的生活，似乎她自己也完全接受了。

关于这件事情的原委是我后来听别人讲的：一八四七年的春天，玛格丽特病得很重，医生嘱咐她到温泉去疗养，于是她便去了巴涅尔温泉疗养地。疗养地有一位公爵的女儿跟玛格丽特患了同样的病，而且和她长得一模一样，很容易被误认为是亲姐妹。不幸的是，当时公爵小姐的肺病已经到了晚期，玛格丽特没到几天公爵小姐便去世了。之后公爵久久不愿离开巴涅尔，毕竟那儿埋葬着他美丽的心肝宝贝女儿，他想陪伴她。一天早上，公爵在一条小路的拐角处遇到了玛格丽特，他仿佛看了他女儿的身影，于是走上前去，抓住她的手，抱着她便放声大哭，根本没问她是谁，只是恳求他像爱自己的女儿一样爱她。和玛格丽特去巴涅尔的只有她的侍女，再说她也不怕名誉受损，便同意了公爵的请求。恰巧在巴涅尔有些认识她的人专程拜访老公爵并如实讲了玛格丽特小姐的情况。对于老人来说，简直就是晴天霹雳，因为就这一点便谈不上玛格丽特和她女儿有什么相似之处了，可现在晚了，这个女人已经成了他的精神安慰，甚至成了支撑他活下去的力量。他丝毫没有责备玛格丽特，他也没有权利这么做。不过他问她觉得是否可以改变一下她现在的生活，他愿意补偿她的损失，她想要什么都可以给她。玛格丽特同意了。

这里必须说明的是玛格丽特当时病得很重，她觉得似乎是过去的生活害她患病，出于迷信，她希望通过痛改前非来争取上帝的宽恕，希望上帝重新赐予她美貌和健康。果然到了夏天，温泉疗养、睡觉规律加上散步这样的适当运动，她的确慢慢地恢复了健康。后来公爵陪玛格丽特回到了巴黎，他还是像在巴涅尔一样，经常去看她。

他们这种关系在巴黎顿时引起了轰动，因为别人并不知道其中的动机和缘由，本来公爵是因为非常有钱而被大家所知，如今因为他挥霍无度便更有名了。人们把一切都归罪于有钱的老公爵贪色，所有人都相信这一点，就是不知道事实。其实这位老公爵对玛格丽特的感情非常纯洁，除了心灵上的慰藉，任何其他关系在他看来都是乱伦，他从来没有对她讲过任何一句不适合给女儿讲的话。

我从来没想过要将故事的女主人公塑造成什么样的人，只是如实描述。玛格丽特在巴涅尔的时候还不难遵守对公爵的承诺，而且她也是遵守了的；可一回到巴黎，习惯纸醉金迷、挥霍无度的她便按捺不住内心的空虚和寂寞了。只有老公爵时不时去探望她的生活让她觉得非常枯燥无聊，过去的骄奢淫逸一下子燃起了她内心的烈焰。

要说的是，玛格丽特这次回巴黎显得从未有过的美艳，她二十岁，正当妙龄，她的病看起来有所好转，但实际上并没有痊愈，可她内心的欲望所燃起的烈焰实际上才是她肺病的病根儿所在。

公爵的朋友们总说公爵老去看她有损公爵的名誉，所以总是密切监视她的行为。终于，他们告诉公爵，在他没去看她的时候，她接待了别人，而且那些客人通常都是待到第二天才离开。被质问的时候，玛格丽特承认了一切，并且还建议公爵不要再去看她了，不要再关心她，因为她自己认为无法遵守她的诺言，她也不想接受被她欺骗过的人的帮助了。后来公爵有一周没出现过，他也只能这么做，到了第八天，他去恳求玛格丽特还是像过去一样跟他来往，并且还承诺只要能见到她，他决不干涉她的自由，还发誓就算死也决不再责备她。

这是回到巴黎三个月以后，也就是一八四二年十一月或十二月发生的事儿。

第三章

十六日下午一点，我去了昂坦大街。刚到大门口就听见拍卖师的叫声。屋里挤满了人，所有的名妓都到场了，有几个贵妇在偷偷地打量她们。这一次她们又借着拍卖的机会瞧瞧那些她们从来没有机会近距离接触的女人们，也许她们私底下还很羡慕她们自由放荡的生活呢。F公爵夫人遇到了A小姐，A小姐是当今妓女圈中最薄命的红颜；T侯爵夫人在犹豫要不要把D小姐出高价的家具再加价买下来，D小姐是当今最有名的荡妇。还有一位Y公爵，马德里人认为他在巴黎破了产，可巴黎人认为他在马德里破了产，实际上，他从来就没花完过他每年的收入。他一边跟M太太聊天，一边又跟N夫人眉目传情。M太太是位才华横溢的短篇小说家，她常常把自己讲的写下来，并签上自己的大名。N夫人经常身着粉色或蓝色的衣服，坐着由两匹高大的黑马拉的四轮马车穿过香榭丽舍大街，黑马是托尼一万法郎卖给她的，她慷慨地买了下来，遛大街的时候简直就是一道亮丽的风景，还有一位R小姐，她靠自己的能力挣得的地位使那些靠嫁妆的贵妇们自愧不如，使那些靠爱情的女人们更是无地自容，虽然天气寒冷，她还是赶来买东西，还颇引起在场人们的关注。

我们还可以列举更多的名媛贵妇的首字母，她们自己都惊讶在那个地方能遇见，而且那么近距离地接触。不过，考虑到读者，在这儿就不再一一列举。要说的是当时场面非常热烈，在场的人过去几乎都认识那个去世的女人，可她们似乎觉得什么都没发生一样。总能听到大笑的声音，拍卖师扯着嗓子喊着价格，挤满拍卖桌前面板凳的商人们则大声叫大家保持安静以便他们安安静静地进行交易，实际上也是徒劳。像这样热闹的场面和混杂的人群还真是头一次见。

我一声不响地挤进嘈杂的人群，想到为了给她还债，拍卖就在刚过世的可怜的姑娘的闺房旁的屋子进行，忽然觉得特别心酸。与其说我是来买东西的，不如说是来凑热闹的，几个拍卖师的脸简直就是价格表，叫到比他们预计的价格高的时候，便喜笑颜开。那些曾经在这个女人的妓女生涯搞过投机买卖的人，那些在她身上发过横财的人，那些曾经在她弥留之际拿着贴着印花的借据来要债的人，还有那些在她死后就迫不及待地来收取高利贷的人，所有那些人可都是正人君子啊！古人就说过，商人和盗贼信奉的是同一个上帝！真是明智啊！

各种长裙、羊毛大披肩、各类首饰，很快就卖完了，速度快得难以相信。不过没有一件是我想买的，所以只好等待了。突然，我听到一声叫喊：“书一册，精装，烫金书边，书名《玛侬·蕾丝科》，扉页上有几个字，十法郎。”

“十二法郎。”一段长时间的沉默之后有人叫了价。

“十五法郎，”我说。

为什么我要出这个价呢？我也不知道，可能是为了扉页上的几个字吧。

“十五法郎，”拍卖师再次叫道。

“三十法郎，”第一个出价的人又叫了一次，听口气是要抵制进一步的竞争。

现在的确变成竞争了。“三十五法郎，”我又叫道。

“四十法郎！”

“五十法郎！”

“六十法郎！”

“一百法郎！”

如果我是为了吸引注意的话，那么我的目的完全达到了。因为我加价之后全场彻底安静了，大家都盯着我，看看到底是什么人非要买下那本书不可。

我最后一次叫价的口气似乎说服了竞争对手，他愿意退出竞争，结果我以十倍的价格买下了那本书。他走过来客气地鞠了个躬，和气地说出了尽管有些迟了的话：“先生，让给你了。”

也没有人再加价，所以书归了我。

因为担心我的自尊心会再一次激起我的倔脾气，而我手上并不宽裕，所以我便写下姓名，然后将书搁在一边，就离开了。在场的人肯定对我作出了种种猜测和怀疑，他们暗地里一定会想，这个人到底是什么原因会花一百法郎去买那本书，本来花十法郎，最多十五法郎到处都能买得到的一本书。

一小时以后，我派人将那本书取了回来。扉页上是赠书人用墨笔写的字，字很漂亮，很秀气：

玛侬对玛格丽特

惭愧

署名是阿尔芒·杜瓦尔。

“惭愧”这两个字什么意思呢？是不是承认玛格丽特过着比玛侬更放荡的生活？还是在个人情感生活上比她强？第二种解释似乎更说得过去一些，因为第一种解释似乎比较无礼，再说无论玛格丽特对自己是什么评价，她也绝不会接受的。

后来我又出去了。到了晚上回来睡觉时才又想起那本书。

《玛侬·蕾丝科》讲的是一个动人的爱情故事，我虽然熟悉书中的每一个情节，然而每每拿起这本书，还是抑制不住内心的感情。我翻开书，普雷福神甫所塑造的女主人公便浮现在眼前，这种感觉已经上百次了。里面的女主人公是如此的真实，栩栩如生，跃然纸上，感觉仿佛在哪儿见过似的。因而，现在将女主人公和玛格丽特联系起来比较，更增添了这本书的吸引力，让我有力量一直读下去。出于对这位可怜的姑娘的怜悯，我越发喜爱她了。玛侬确实是死在荒漠，可她是死在全身心都爱着她的情人的怀抱里。而且玛侬死后，情人还替她挖了个墓穴，用他的泪水浇灌着墓穴，而且他的心也一同玛侬的身体埋葬了。而玛格丽特呢，跟玛侬一样，是个有罪的人，可能像她一样改邪归正了，最后死在了自己常睡的床上（正如我所看到那样，她是死在自己的床上），可是她心里却是一片荒漠，而且这片荒漠比玛侬葬身的那片更贫瘠，更辽阔，更荒凉，甚至更冷漠。

从玛格丽特的朋友圈子里听说，在她病危最后的两个月，她承受着极大的痛苦和折磨，却没有一个真正的朋友到她床前安慰过她。

玛侬和玛格丽特的结局让我不禁想起周围认识的那些女人们，她们一路歌唱，一路走向死亡，命运都一样。可怜的女人啊！如果说爱她们是错，那么同情她们没错吧？人们同情见不到阳光的瞎子，听不到大自然美妙声音的聋子，无法用语言表达思想的哑巴，可是因为所谓的廉耻，人们却不愿去同情一个心灵上的瞎子，灵魂上的聋子和良心上的哑巴，可就是这些逼得这个可怜的女人看不到这个世界任何的善良，独自忍受着老天的折磨，你要她怎么谈纯洁的爱情和崇高的信仰？

雨果写过马里翁·德洛尔姆，缪塞写过贝尔纳雷特，大仲马写过费尔南多，各个时代的大思想家和诗人都把他们心灵深处的同情献给了那些风尘女子。甚至有时候一个伟人竟然用他的爱甚至他的姓氏来恢复她们的名声。我在这儿坚持这一点，主要是因为可能看我的书的人已经准备要扔掉我的书了，生怕这是一本同情妓女，宣扬罪恶的书，而且作者的年龄无疑会更让读者担心这一点。希望读者别这么想，如果仅仅是这一点的话，那还是放心继续看吧。

我信奉一条原则，那就是凡是没有受过善恶是非教育的女人，上帝总是给她们开了两条路：一条通向痛苦，一条走向爱情。两条路都十分艰难。那些女人走得两脚流血，爬得两手破裂，可她们在一路坎坷和荆棘的路上却脱下了她们罪恶的外衣，赤裸裸地到达目的地，在上帝面前干干净净，一点羞愧也没有。

遇到这些勇敢的行者，我们应当帮助她们，并且告诉大家曾经遇到过她们，其实这么做了就是在给她们指明道路。解决这个问题的办法不是在人生道路的岔路口立上两块牌子：一块上写上“善之路”，一块写上“恶之路”，然后告诉她们，“自己选吧。”我们必须像耶稣基督一样，向那些很容易误入歧途的人们指出从恶之路通向善之路的途径，当然一开始不应该让她们走艰难险峻的路，否则她们很难走下去。

基督关于弃恶从善的寓言其实就是劝告人们对人要仁慈，要宽容。耶稣对深受情欲之伤害的灵魂充满了爱，他爱她们，在给她们包扎伤口的时候是从伤口里面取出的药膏来治愈她们的伤口的。于是他对马格戴娜说，“因为你爱得多，所以会得到更多的宽容。”崇高的宽容能唤起崇高的信仰。

为什么我们要比基督更严厉呢？还不是因为这个世界强作严酷，所以我们也就被迫接受了。为什么我们要和这个严酷的现实世界一样摒弃那些伤痕累累、血迹斑斑的灵魂呢？从她们的伤口渗出的污血便是她们过去的罪恶，可她们罪恶的污血难道不是需要关爱才能渗出么？难道他们心灵的伤口不是需要友谊来包扎么？

我向同时代的人呼吁，向那些认为伏尔泰先生的理论根本就不应该存在的人们呼吁，向那些像我一样懂得过去十五年以来人道主义飞速发展的人们呼吁。如果善恶永存，信仰重新建立，对神圣的事物又回归尊重，即使我们的世界不会很快变好，至少也会变得更好。智慧的人都致力于一个目标，一切坚定的意志都建立在同一个原则之上：即“善良，活泼，真实”！邪恶只不过是空的东西，让我们为善而骄傲吧！最重要的是，要坚定，绝不能丧失信心！我们千万不要轻易蔑视既不是我们的母亲、姐妹，又不是女儿或者妻子的女人。要尊重亲人，宽容自私。因为相比一百个从没有罪孽的人，上帝更喜欢一个忏悔的人。就让我们给上帝带去快乐吧，上帝也会赐福给我们的。在人生前进的道路上，让我们为那些曾经被欲望所驱使而误入歧途的人留下我们的宽恕吧！也许一种神圣的希望就能拯救他们！就像老妇人劝别人接受她们的一些土办法来治病时说的一样，即使没有什么好处，至少也没坏处吧。

毋庸置疑，我试图从我遇到的这些小事中得出这么伟大的结论，似乎过于大胆了！但是我是相信大存在于小之中的。小孩子虽小，可他会长大成人；脑袋虽窄，可它能容纳无尽的思想；眼睛虽小，可能看到广阔的世界。

第四章

两天以后，拍卖全部结束，总共拍得三十五万法郎。债主们拿走了三分之二，剩下的由玛格丽特的家人继承，她有一个姐姐和一个外甥。

当收到律师信，得知能继承五万法郎的遗产时，她姐姐惊呆了。这个年轻的姑娘已经六七年没见过她妹妹了，而且自从她妹妹离开家就再也没有她的任何消息。姐姐匆忙来到巴黎。那些认识玛格丽特的人都惊诧不已，因为她的遗产继承人竟然是一个漂亮的、胖胖的乡下姑娘，而且之前从来没离开过家乡。顷刻间发了大财，她甚至都不知道这笔遗产到底是怎么回事。后来我听别人说，她回家之后为她妹妹的死感到十分悲伤，之后她把那笔钱以四厘五的利息存进了银行，也算是对她悲伤一阵的补偿吧。

在巴黎这个罪恶之城，这些事是经常发生的，最多也就是被人们议论一阵，随着时间流逝，也就慢慢烟消云散了。要不是通过这件事了解了玛格丽特的身世以及她感人至深的故事，我几乎快忘了是怎么参与这件事情的。于是我产生了把她的故事写下来的念头，也就是我写的这本书。

家具拍卖完之后，那所住宅继续出租了。大约过了三四天的一个早上，有人按了我家门铃。

我的仆人，也可以说是我的门房兼仆人去应了门，然后递给我一张名片，说来客想见我。

我瞧了瞧名片，上面印着：阿尔芒·杜瓦尔。

我努力地想在哪儿见到过这个名字，终于想起在《玛侬·蕾丝科》那本书的扉页上见过。这个送书给玛格丽特的人找我有什么事呢？于是我吩咐仆人请来客进来。

进来的是一名年轻的金发男子，身材高大，脸色苍白，身穿旅行服装，好像好几天没换过了，衣服上都是灰尘，看起来像刚到巴黎还没来得及刷一下。

杜瓦尔先生非常激动的样子，他根本没有掩饰，眼里充满了泪水，用颤抖的声音对我说道：

“先生，请原谅我衣冠不整就冒昧来访，不过年轻人之间也没那么讲究了，况且我今天实在是急于见你。我刚把行礼搁到宾馆就赶来见你了，虽然还早，还是担心你不在。”

我请杜瓦尔先生到火炉边坐下来，他一边坐下来，一边从兜里掏出手帕捂了一会儿脸。

“你一定奇怪，”他唉声叹气地说道，“一个陌生人怎么会这时候衣冠不整还哭成这样来拜访你，会向你提出什么样的请求。”

“说吧，先生，我非常愿意为你效劳。”

“你参加了玛格丽特家里的拍卖了吧？”

说到玛格丽特，本来已经抑制住的情绪又激动起来，他不得不用双手捂住了眼睛。

“你一定会觉得我非常可笑，”他继续说道，“可是，请原谅我，相信我会感激你的耐心聆听的。”

“先生，”我说，“如果我真的能帮你减轻痛苦的话，请快点告诉我我能为你做什么吧，你会发现我非常乐意为你效劳。”

我非常同情杜瓦尔先生，无论如何我也要帮助他。接着他对我说：

“在玛格丽特的财产拍卖现场，你买了东西了吧？”

“是的，买了一本书。”

“《玛侬·蕾丝科》？”

“没错。”

“书还在你那儿吗？”

“在我屋里。”

听到我的回答，阿尔芒·杜瓦尔好像如释重负，似乎我保存那本书是对他最大的帮助。

我起身到卧室取来书递给他。

“就是这本，”他一边说一边瞧着扉页上的那两行字，然后继续翻起来，“没错，就是这本。”两行大大的泪珠滴滴答答流到了书页上。“呃，先生，”他抬起头说道，这时候他不再努力掩饰他的悲伤，而且几乎又要哭出声来，“你非常珍惜这本书吗？”

“为什么这么问呢？”

“因为我想请求你把它给我。”

“请原谅我的好奇，”我说道，“是你送给玛格丽特·戈蒂埃的书吧？”

“是的。”

“这本书归你了，先生，你拿去吧，我很高兴这本书能物归原主。”

“可是，”杜瓦尔先生不好意思地说道，“至少要把拍卖款付给你吧。”

“请允许我送给你吧，况且在那样一场拍卖会上，这本书根本算不得什么，我都不记得花了多少钱拍到的。”

“你付了一百法郎。”

“是吧，”这次轮到我不好意思地说，“你是怎么知道的？”

“很简单。我本来打算及时赶到拍卖会的，结果今天早上才赶到这儿。说什么我也要得到她的一件遗物，到巴黎之后我匆匆赶到拍卖师那儿，请求他帮我查查售出物件以及买主名单。我查到这本书是你买的，于是决定请求你转让给我，不过你出的价格让我忧虑你买这本书是不是也是为了留个纪念。”

很明显，阿尔芒说这话是在担心玛格丽特跟我会不会跟他一样，关系比较密切。不过我很快让他打消了疑虑。

“我只是见过戈蒂埃小姐罢了，”我说道，“一个青年男子乐于见到的漂亮姑娘去世了，自然感到惋惜，我的感受就只是这样。我只是希望在拍卖会上买些什么，也不知道为什么买下了这本书，而且竞争对手还拼命抬价，好像存心跟我过不去，不想让我买这本书。我再说一遍，先生，这本书归你了，我再次请求你收下吧。不要把我当拍卖师，况且我也不是，希望这本书能有助于我们的友谊地久天长。”

“太好了，先生，”阿尔芒紧紧握住我的手说道，“好吧，我接受了，我一生都将感激你。”

我非常想问问阿尔芒关于玛格丽特的事情，因为书上题词，因为这位年轻人的匆匆赶来，因为他迫切地想得到这本书，这一切引起了我的好奇心。然而，我担心要是我这么唐突地问他，而且又拒绝他的钱，他会认为我是为了了解他的隐私。

可能他猜出了我的想法，于是他说：

“你看过这本书了吗？”

“翻了一遍。”

“你怎么看我写的两行题字呢？”

“翻开书，我立刻意识到你送书的这位姑娘不同寻常，我不觉得那两行字仅仅是恭维的话。”

“你说得对，先生。玛格丽特是个天使，瞧瞧吧，这是她写给我的信。”他一边说一边递给我一封信，似乎已经反复看过很多遍了。我打开信，信的内容是这样的：

亲爱的阿尔芒：

来信已收到，感谢上帝，你一切安好。是的，我的朋友，我病了，而且病得很厉害，永远也好不了了，不过，你的关心能减轻我不少的痛苦。我怕是活不久了，你的来信让我非常感激，可我再也没有福气可以握一下你的手了。如果有什么药能治好我的病的话，你信里的话就是良药。可我再也见不到你了，我快死了，而你却在千里之外。我可怜的朋友，你的玛格丽特已经彻底变样了！我现在这副样子你还是不见为好。你问我是否能原谅你，哦，我当然能原谅你，而且是从心底里原谅你。唉，你以前对我不好恰恰证明你是爱我的。我已经卧床一个月了，非常感谢你对我的尊重，因此，我每天都写日记，记下每天的生活，从我们分开那天一直写到不能提笔为止。如果你是真心对我好，阿尔芒，你回来之后到朱莉·杜普拉那儿去一趟。她会把我的日记交给你的。你会明白你我之间很多事情的缘由和我的解释。朱莉对我很好，我们常常谈起你，收到你的来信时，她当时也在，我们俩看了信都感动地哭了。

如果收不到你的回信，我托付朱莉在你回法国之后将我的日记转交给你。不用感谢我。这本日记回忆了我人生中的美好时光，这对我太好了。你看了日记之后，能原谅我的过去的话，那将是我莫大的慰藉。我想留给你一点什么做个纪念，可我家里的所有东西都即将被拍卖了，我什么也没有了。

亲爱的朋友，你明白吗？眼看我就要死了，从卧室里都能清清楚楚地听到起居室里看守来回走动的声音，我的债主们安排他看管的，为的是不让别人拿走东西。即使我不死，我也一无所有了。我希望他们能等我死了之后再拍卖这些东西。

噢！这个世界是多么无情啊！抑或是我错了，上帝是公平公正的！

噢，亲爱的朋友，你来参加拍卖会吧，你可以买下一些东西。我现在哪怕是给你留下一点点东西，他们也会控告你私吞查封财产的。

我要离开了，凄惨啊！

如果能在死之前见你一面，上帝该有多好啊！照现在的情况是不可能了，再见了，我亲爱的朋友。原谅我不能再写下去了，那些说要治好我病的人一直在放我的血，我太累了，手已经不听使唤了。

玛格丽特·戈蒂埃

最后几个字非常模糊，几乎看不清。我把信还给了阿尔芒。刚才在我看信的时候，他一定在心里又念了一遍，因为他一边拿信一边说道：

“谁能相信这是一名妓女写的信呢？”过去的回忆又让他激动起来，他盯着信看了一会儿，最后吻了一下。

之后他继续说道，“我一想到没能见她最后一面，而且永远也见不到了，想到她对我比亲兄妹还好，我简直不能宽恕我自己让她这样死去！可她已经死了啊！已经死了！死之前还在给我写信，还在一遍一遍呼唤我的名字，可怜的玛格丽特啊！”

此时此刻，阿尔芒完全抑制不住自己的情感，早已泪如雨下了，他一面伸过手来，一面说道：

“不了解的人看到我为她这样一个女人的死痛苦悲伤成这样，可能会觉得我太天真。可没有人知道我曾经是怎么伤害她的，我对她有多么残忍！她是多好的姑娘啊！她受了多少委屈啊！我原来以为只有我宽恕她，可今天我才明白我根本不配她的宽恕。唉，要是能在她面前哭上一小时，就算少活十年我也愿意啊！”

不了解一个人的痛苦要安慰他总是很难的。然而，我却极为同情眼前这位年轻人，因为他如此坦率地倾吐了他的痛苦，我想我的话多少也能安慰一下他饱受煎熬的心。于是我便说道：

“你有亲戚朋友吧？他们是你的希望，去看看他们吧，他们会好好安慰你的，我只能同情你啊！”

“是啊，”他一边起身在屋里徘徊，一边说道，“我给你添麻烦了，请原谅我吧，我知道我的痛苦跟你并没多大关系，而且我今天跟你倾诉的事情可能不会引起你的兴趣，或者根本就不该引起你的兴趣。”

“你误会了，我是想帮你，可惜我实在没法减轻你的痛苦。要是我，或者我的朋友能帮助你的话，只要你需要，无论如何，我希望你知道我是非常乐意为你效劳的。”

“恕罪，恕罪，”他说道，“原谅我的过度悲伤，神经有点过敏。我再待会儿，再让我抹抹眼泪吧，要不走上大街让那些无聊的人看见一个大男人哭成这样，他们会大惊小怪的。你送我的书，我非常高兴，真的不知道说什么才好。”

“你就把我当朋友吧，”我说道，“告诉我你痛苦的原因，讲出来心里会好受些。”

“你说得对，可我今天就想哭，脑子很乱，不知道该说什么，改天我再从头到尾讲给你听吧，到时候你就知道我为什么觉得对不起死去的姑娘了。可是，今天，”他一面抹着眼睛，一面照了照镜子，然后继续说道，“希望你不要把我当傻子，请允许我再来拜访你吧。”

他的眼神很温柔，很亲切，我差点就拥抱他了。可他的眼睛又湿润了，他看见我发现了，就把头转了过去。

“好吧，”我说，“勇敢点。”

“再见！”他答道。

他努力控制着泪水，不知道他是跑出去还是走出去的。

我撩起窗帘，看着他上了门口等他的四轮马车，可他还没来得及坐下就已经泪如泉涌了，然后他拿起手帕捂住脸又痛哭起来。

第五章

之后很长时间都没有阿尔芒的消息，反而倒是经常听到有人提起玛格丽特。

不知道大家是否有这种感觉：一旦有人在你面前提起任何你根本不认识的人或者跟此人相关的很多事情，你会发现周围所有朋友的都在跟你讲以前从来没讲过的关于此人的事情。你会觉得好像此人就在你身边，并且常常出现在你的生活中，而你自己没有注意罢了。你会发现别人告诉你的那些事情和你自己的经历似乎有些地方不谋而合。我跟玛格丽特倒并非如此，毕竟我见过她，在路上遇见过她，所以我认识她，不管是路上遇见过还是她的名气。不管怎样，财产拍卖会刚过那阵儿，我总听到关于她的一些事儿，鉴于上一章已经讲过了，而且一提她的名字，有一个人就悲痛不已，所以我愈来愈诧异了，愈来愈好奇了。我以前从来没有跟朋友谈起过玛格丽特，可这次我的好奇心驱使我无论什么时候遇到朋友都会这样问道：

“你认识一个叫玛格丽特·戈蒂埃的姑娘吗？”

“茶花女？”

“没错。”

“噢，非常熟啊。”

他们说话的时候总带着微笑，可那种微笑谁也能看出来其中的意思。

“呃，她怎么样？”

“还不错。”

“没别的评价了？”

“呃，差不多吧，比别的很多姑娘要聪明要善良吧。”

“还了解她什么特别的地方吗？”

“她害得G伯爵倾家荡产了。”

“就这些？”

“她是老公爵的情人……”

“她真的是他的情人？”

“大家都这么说，不管怎么说，老公爵给了她很多钱。”

听到的差不多都是这些话。可是我特别想了解玛格丽特和阿尔芒的关系。直到有一天我遇到一名男子，这名男子跟那些风月场所的交际花们都很熟悉，于是我问他，“你认识玛格丽特·戈蒂埃吗？”

他的回答和大多数人一样，也是，“非常熟。”

“她是个什么样的人呢？”

“一个不错的姑娘，善良。听到她去世的消息，我很难过。”

“她是阿尔芒·杜瓦尔的情人吗？”

“高个金发的那个？”

“是的。”

“应该是吧。”

“这个阿尔芒是个什么人呢？”

“他跟玛格丽特在一起花光了他仅有的那点钱，后来不得不离开她了，人们都说他几乎爱得发疯。”

“那玛格丽特呢？”

“大家都说玛格丽特非常爱他，可像她那样的女人你也是知道的。想得到她们的爱恐怕没什么好处吧。”

“那后来阿尔芒呢？”

“不知道了。我跟他不怎么熟。他和玛格丽特在乡下待了五六个月吧，她回巴黎时，他就离开她了。”

“从那时候起，你就没见过他？”

“一直没有。”

我也再没见过阿尔芒。我甚至开始怀疑他来找我是不是因为玛格丽特刚去世使得他旧情复燃，他当时才那么伤心的。我想他可能都已经忘记了死去的玛格丽特，也许他跟我再见面的诺言早就随着玛格丽特的去世而消逝了。这种猜测对大多数人来说是绝对可能的，可阿尔芒，他的悲痛欲绝似乎不像不是真心的。我从一个极端到了另外一个极端，我想也许是他过度悲伤而病了，抑或是死了，才无法和我再见。

我不由自主地关心起这个年轻人来。这种关心也许有点自私，或许是我认为悲伤背后一定有一个缠绵悱恻的爱情故事，抑或是因为阿尔芒的消失激发了我的好奇心。杜瓦尔先生没有再来，不过我决定去找他。要找个拜访的借口还是不难的，可不幸的是，我没有他的地址，我打听了一阵儿也没问到。

后来我到昂坦大街打听。玛格丽特以前的门卫应该知道他住哪儿。可住宅出租以后换了门卫，他也不清楚。我又问他戈蒂埃小姐葬在哪儿，他告诉我在蒙特马特公墓。四月份的天气很好，墓地不像冬天看起来那么凄凉阴森了。总之，气候已经暖和了，也到了活人给去世的人扫墓的时候了。于是我去了公墓，心想：看看玛格丽特的墓，我就知道阿尔芒是否还在伤心，也许还能了解到他现在的情况。

我进了公墓看守的办公室，问他是否在二月二十二日有一位叫玛格丽特·戈蒂埃的葬在蒙特马特公墓。他翻了一下一本大大的记录册，册子上记录着所有长眠此地的人的名字。接着他告诉我，二月二十二日十二点的确有一个叫玛格丽特的葬在此地。

于是我请他带我去看看墓地，毕竟死人的城市跟活人的一样，也有大街小巷的，没有向导恐怕很难找得到。看守叫来一名园丁，跟他交代了一些事情，园丁打断他说道：“知道了，知道了。——那座坟墓很容易就能找到。”说着，他转向我。

“为什么呢？”

“因为她坟前的花跟别的都不同。”

“是你在照看吗？”

“是的，先生。是一个年轻人托我照看的，我希望所有的人都能像他一样缅怀死者。”

转了几个弯之后园丁便停下来说道：“到了，就这儿。”

映入我眼帘的是一块方形的花台，要不是竖着一块刻着死者名字的大理石墓碑的话，绝对看不出来是座坟墓。

大理石墓碑笔直地矗立着，坟地由铁栅栏围了起来，地上摆满了白色的茶花。“你觉得怎么样？”园丁问我道。

“很漂亮。”

“有一朵茶花凋谢了，我都按吩咐换新鲜的。”

“谁吩咐你换的呢？”

“一个年轻人，他第一次来时哭得很伤心，可能是死者的老相好吧，听别人说她过去是个放荡的女人，我想她长得很漂亮。你认识她吗，先生？”

“认识。”

“跟别人一样？”园丁微笑着继续问道，可样子很狡黠。

“不一样，我从来没跟她说过话。”

“你真是个好人，来这儿看她！因为到这儿来看她的人并不多。”

“没有人来过吗？”

“没有，除了那位年轻男士来过一次。”

“只来过一次？”

“是的，先生。”

“他再也不来了？”

“不是吧，等他回来会来的。”

“他现在去什么地方了吗？”

“是的。”

“你知道他去哪儿了吗？”

“我想他去找戈蒂埃的姐姐了。”

“他为什么找她姐姐呢？”

“他去请求玛格丽特的姐姐同意为她迁坟。”

“迁坟？为什么呢？”

“你知道的，先生，人们对待去世的人总是有各种奇怪的想法。我们经常能见到这种情况。这块坟地只买了五年，那个年轻人想给她租个永久的、面积大点的坟地，最好还是新区的。”

“什么新区？”

“就在现在正在出售的，左边那片新修的。要是公墓都像这样管理，可能这儿就是世界上最好的公墓了。当然，离最好还是需要不断努力的。不过现在奇怪的人还真不少！”

“怎么讲？”

“我是说现在有些人到了这儿还觉得自己了不起。就拿这位戈蒂埃小姐来说吧，她好像以前生活放荡，请原谅我这么说。可怜的姑娘，如今死了，跟那些清清白白没有给人们留下任何话柄的女人一样，我们还不是每天给她们浇水。可有些家属发现她旁边葬的是玛格丽特那样的女人，你猜他们怎么说？他们说坚决不要和她那样的女人葬在一起，应该跟穷人一样专门有个地方给她们那样的人。你听过这样的事情吗？我把话给他们挑明了：那些有钱人来看他们死去的亲人，一年来那么四次，每次都带着花来，看他们都带些什么花！他们口头上为死者悲伤，心里却从没想过为亲人修整坟墓；他们在墓碑上写得悲痛欲绝，实际上一滴眼泪也没流，还要跟他们死去亲属的邻居找麻烦。不管你信不信，我不认识这位年轻的姑娘，我不知道她都干过什么，但是我喜欢她，我愿意照看她，可怜的姑娘，我给她摆的茶花价格很公道。她是我最喜欢的死者。先生，我们的义务就是爱死人，我们太忙了，没时间去爱别的东西。”

望着园丁，不用我多说，读者应该知道当时我心里有多感动。毫无疑问，他看出来了，因为他接着说道：

“听说有人为她倾家荡产，而且有些情人非常迷恋她。我一想到这些人中没有一个人给她送过一束花，就觉得太奇怪太伤感了。毕竟她也不是那么糟糕，她总还有一座自己的坟墓吧。如果有一个人怀念她，其他的人也就无所谓了。不过，这里面照样有跟她身世相同、年龄相仿的姑娘埋在这儿，可她们只是被扔进了公共墓地。每当听到她们可怜的尸体被无情地扔进了墓地时，我的心都碎了。她们一入土就再也不会有人理会了！干我们这行的人，要是还有点良心的话，心里也会难受的。你说怎么办呢？我也没有办法啊。我自己也有一个二十来岁的漂亮女儿，每当送来跟她年龄相仿的女尸，我就不由自主地想到我女儿，无论送来的是有钱人家的女儿还是流浪女，我都很难控制住自己的情绪。呃，先生，不好意思，我太啰唆了，你来这儿不是听我讲的，看守只吩咐我带你来戈蒂埃的墓地，还有什么能为您效劳的吗？”

“你知道阿尔芒·杜瓦尔先生住哪儿吗？”我问他。

“知道，他住在……街，这摆放茶花的费用我就常常去他那儿取。”

“谢谢你，我的朋友。”

我最后又望了望铺满鲜花的坟地，突然特别想钻到地下看看那个漂亮姑娘到底被埋了多深，现在究竟怎么样了。我离开了墓地，莫名的悲伤涌上了心头。

“先生，你想见杜瓦尔先生吗？”走在我身旁的园丁接着问我。

“是的。”

“我非常肯定他还没有回来，否则他早到这儿来了。”

“你不觉得他已忘记玛格丽特了吗？”

“我不但肯定他没忘，而且我相信他给玛格丽特迁坟实际上是想见她一面。”

“为什么这么说呢？”

“因为他来墓园第一句话问的就是：‘有什么办法能再见她一面呢？’除非迁坟，否则是没法办到的。我把迁坟的程序告诉了他，因为你知道的，迁坟是需要验明尸身，必须征得家人的许可，而且还要有警方来主持。杜瓦尔先生去拜访戈蒂埃的姐姐就是为了迁坟的事，他回来肯定会先找我的。”

我们一起走到了墓园大门口。再次谢过园丁之后，我给了他几个零钱，于是朝他告诉我的地址走去。

阿尔芒仍然没有回来。我给他留了便条，请求他一回来就来跟我见面，或者传个消息我去找他也行。

第二天早上，我收到杜瓦尔一封信，信上说他回来了，叫我去他家，因为他疲劳过度，没法出门了。

第六章

我去看阿尔芒的时候，他正躺在床上。他一见我，就伸出滚烫的手跟我握手。“你在发烧，”我对他说。

“没事，只是着急赶路，感到疲劳罢了。”

“你是去拜访玛格丽特的姐姐了吧？”

“是的，谁告诉你的？”

“我知道。你的事情办成了吗？”

“办成了，你是怎么知道我出门了呢？你又是怎么知道我此行的目的呢？”

“墓园的园丁告诉我的。”

“你去扫墓了？”

我几乎不敢再回答，他讲话的语气说明他还处于悲伤之中，像我以前见到他时一样。每当他自己想到或者别人谈到他的伤心事时，他便很长时间情不能自已。所以我只好默默地点了点头，表示我已经去过。

“坟墓照看得不错吧？”阿尔芒继续问道。说完这些话，两行泪珠便从他的两颊滚落下来，于是他转过头去，生怕我看见。我假装没有看到，尽量转移话题，于是我问道：“你离开有三周了吧？”

阿尔芒用手擦了擦眼泪，回答我说：“正好三周。”

“你的路途很长啊。”

“噢，我并没有一直赶路。我病了两周，要不早就回来了。不过我刚一到她姐姐那儿就发烧了，所以只好待在她家。”

“你还没好就着急回来了？”

“要是多待一周，恐怕我得死在那儿了。”

“现在你已经回来了，你得好好养病，亲朋好友会来看你的，你要是拿我当朋友的话，我就算第一个吧。”

“过两小时我就要下床。”

“那你也太冒险了啊。”

“必须这样。”

“你那么着急干吗呢？”

“我还得亲自去趟警长那儿。”

“为什么不托别人帮你办呢？这样会加重你的病情的。”

“办了这件事情我的病就好了。我一定要见到她。自从听到她的死讯，特别我去她坟上看过之后，我就失眠了。我们分开的时候她还那么年轻，那么漂亮，我简直不能相信她真的就死了。我必须亲眼见到才相信。我一定要看看上帝把我深爱的人弄成什么样子了，或许见到她恐怖的样子能治愈我的悲痛。你愿意陪我去吗？要是太麻烦的话就算了。”

“她姐姐怎么说呢？”

“什么也没说。她似乎很惊讶一个陌生人想为玛格丽特买一处新的坟地并要为她迁坟，她很快就同意了我的要求，并在授权书上签了名。”

“请相信我吧，等你病好些了再去办迁坟吧。”

“放心吧，我肯定会好的。再说，我已经下了决心要办，如果现在不办，我会发疯的。我发誓我看到玛格丽特之后就会好起来的。这可能是发烧时的渴望，失眠时的梦想，一时的狂热吧，至于在见到她之后，我会不会变成像朗塞先生一样的苦修士，现在我也说不清。”

“明白了，”我对阿尔芒说，“我愿意为你效劳。你见过朱莉·杜普拉特没？”

“见过，我回来那天跟她见了面，不过也是第一次见。”

“她把玛格丽特的日记转交给你了吧？”

阿尔芒从枕头下面拿出一叠纸，然后又迅速放了回去。

“这些我几乎都能背下来，”他说，“三周以来，我每天看了不下十遍。你也可以看看，不过过些时候，等我心情稍微平静一些，再让你了解她日记里所有关于柔情蜜意的内心表白吧。现在我想求你帮我个忙。”

“什么事？”

“你的车在下面吧？”

“在。”

“那麻烦你带着我的护照去邮局看看有没有我的信件。我父亲和我妹妹的信一定已经寄到了巴黎，我当时离开得特别仓促，走之前没去看。等你回来之后，咱们一起去见警长，安排明天迁坟。”

阿尔芒将护照交给了我，于是我去了让-雅克-卢梭大街。杜瓦尔有两封信。我取了信之后就回到了杜瓦尔的家。我再次踏进阿尔芒的家时候，他已经是整装待发了。

“谢谢你，”他一边拿信一边说，“没错，”他瞧瞧了地址，继续说，“是我父亲和妹妹寄给我的，他们一定不明白我为什么没有及时给他们回信。”

他打开信，匆匆扫了一眼，也没细看，因为每封都有四页的样子，不一会儿他便折了起来，然后说道：“走吧，明天再给他们回信。”

我们到了警局，阿尔芒将玛格丽特姐姐的委托书交给了警长。警长收下之后换了一张给墓园看守的通知书给他，约定第二天上午十点开始迁坟。我提前一个小时去找阿尔芒，然后一起去公墓。

说实话，我对参加这样一个仪式感到非常好奇，激动地一晚上没睡着觉。想想我就知道，这一夜对阿尔芒来说有多漫长！第二天早上，我九点准时到了阿尔芒家，他脸色苍白，样子挺吓人的，不过似乎心情很平静。他笑着和我握手，看他蜡烛也点完了，应该是熬了一夜。出门之前，他拿出厚厚的一封给他父亲的回信，他一定倾诉了他一夜的感想。

半小时之后，我们便到了蒙特马特公墓。警长已经提前到了。于是由警长走前面，我和阿尔芒紧随其后，慢慢地朝玛格丽特的坟墓走去。

我隐约觉得阿尔芒的胳膊在轻轻地抽搐，好像他从头到脚都在颤抖。我看了看他。他知道我看出来了，朝我微笑了一下。从他家出门到现在我们还没讲一句话。

快要到达坟地的时候，阿尔芒突然停下脚步，擦了擦脸上豆大的汗珠。我趁机也深深地吸了一口气，因为我也觉得似乎胸口有什么东西压得我喘不过气来。

在这样一个悲伤痛苦的场面，还有什么快乐而言？我们到达坟地时，园丁已经移开了所有的花盆，铁栅栏也挪走了，有两个人正在挖土。

阿尔芒斜靠在树旁，目不转睛地望着。似乎他这一生都在他眼前闪过。突然，其中一把鹤嘴锄撬到了一块石头。一听到刺耳的响声，阿尔芒跟遭了电击似的往后一缩，紧紧地拽住我的手，拽得我的手很疼。

其中一个掘墓的人拿起一把大铲子便开始铲土，一直清到露出盖在棺材上面的石头时，他就逐块石头逐块石头地往外扔。

我仔细打量着阿尔芒，时刻担心他本来稍微平静的心又被搅乱，可他一直瞪着大大的眼睛盯着，两眼发直，像疯子一样，只有从他微微颤抖的脸颊和嘴唇才能看出来他实际上是神经极度紧张。

至于我呢，我只能说挺后悔来的。

棺材露出来了，警长对挖墓的人说，“打开。”他们照吩咐打开了，仿佛这是这个世界上最简单不过的事情了。

棺材是橡木做的，他们开始拧棺盖上面钉紧的螺丝钉。由于地下受潮，螺丝钉生锈了，要拧开还是要费些力气的。好不容易打开了棺盖，一股恶臭扑鼻而来，虽然坟地四周都是芳香的鲜花。

“噢！我的天！天呐！”阿尔芒嘟囔道，脸色比早上更加苍白。

连挖墓的人都往后退了几步。

尸体由一块巨大的白布裹着，从外面可以看出来尸体的轮廓。裹尸布的一端几乎腐烂了，露出了一只脚。

我差点晕过去。就在写这一段的时候，当时的情景还历历在目。

“快一点吧，”警长说道。接着，一名工人动手开始拆开裹尸布，他先抓住一头掀开了裹尸布，很快玛格丽特的脸便露了出来。

那模样实在可怕，现在说起来都心惊胆寒的。眼睛只剩了下两个窟窿，嘴唇已经腐烂掉了，雪白的牙齿紧紧地咬着。一头长长的黑发已经干枯，紧紧地贴着前额，一部分稀稀拉拉地掩盖着凹陷下去的、青灰色的面颊。不过，我还是从这张脸庞认出了昔日常常见到的那张白里透红的快乐脸蛋。

阿尔芒死死地盯着那张脸，掏出手帕紧紧地咬在嘴里。

而我这时候感觉仿佛一圈铁环紧紧箍住我的头，眼睛也被蒙住了，耳朵嗡嗡作响，我只好打开兜里随身带的嗅盐瓶，拼命地嗅着。

我正头晕目眩的时候，听到警长问杜瓦尔，“认出来了吗？”

“认出来了。”年轻人声音干涩地答道。

“那就赶紧系好挪走。”警长说。

挖墓的工人将裹尸布放回到死者的脸上，钉上棺盖之后，用绳子将棺材两端缠上，朝着他们被告知的地方抬去。

阿尔芒一动不动，两只眼睛死死地盯着空空的墓穴，脸色跟刚才的死尸一样惨白。他仿佛已经变成了一块僵硬的石头。

我知道刚才的场面让难以忍受的痛苦缓解之后将会发生什么。我走向警长，“他还有必要留在这儿吗？”我指着阿尔芒问道。

“不用了，”警长答道，“我建议你带他走，他看起来不太舒服。”

“走吧，”我一边挽着阿尔芒的胳膊一边说。

“什么？”他盯着我说，好像不认识我似的。

“事情办完了，”我接着说，“咱们走吧，我的朋友，你脸色苍白，浑身冰凉。你太激动了，这样对身体不好。”

“你说得对，咱们走吧。”他随口回答道，可脚却一步也没挪。

我只好挽着他的胳膊领着他走。此时，他就像一个孩子，一边跟着走一边嘀咕着，“你看到她那双眼睛了么？”说着他便回了回头，似乎幻觉召回了她。

可是，他的脚步愈来愈不稳了，踉踉跄跄地走着。他的牙齿咯咯作响，双手冰凉，那种痛苦使他浑身颤抖。我跟他讲话，他没回答，只是跟着我走。到大门口时，马车已经等着了。他刚一上车，浑身痉挛地更厉害了。他怕吓着我，便紧紧握住我的手说：“没事，没事。我只是想哭。”

他深深地喘着气，眼睛里充着血，却哭不出来。于是我让他嗅我的嗅盐瓶。我们到他家时，他都还在发抖。

仆人帮着我将他扶到了床上，把屋里的炉火生得旺旺的。之后，我匆匆赶去找我的医生，把刚才的事告诉了他。他跟着我立刻赶到阿尔芒家。

阿尔芒脸色绯红，神志不清，甚至开始说胡话，只听得清他叨念玛格丽特的名字。

“他怎么样？”医生检查完之后我问他。

“呃，没什么，他挺幸运的，只是患了脑膜炎，我（上帝宽恕我吧）开始还以为他疯了呢！幸亏他身体上的疾病战胜了他精神上的伤痛，一个月之后，或许两种病都好了。”

第七章

有些病有个好处：要么直接要了命，要么很快好起来，阿尔芒患的就是这类病。我上面讲的事情过去两周之后，阿尔芒便痊愈了，我们也成了好朋友。他患病期间，我一直陪伴在他身边。

春天来了，繁花似锦，百鸟争鸣，我的朋友也很开心地打开了窗户，窗外是花园，一阵万物重生的清新之气向他袭来。医生允许他下床了，从中午十二点到下午两点阳光最好的时候，我们常常坐在窗户边聊天。我一直很注意不要再提起玛格丽特，生怕一提起她的名字，会触及他本来已经平静的心。可阿尔芒却相反，似乎很乐意提起她，也不像以前一提起她便泪流满面，现在他总是带着甜蜜的笑容，这总算让我放下心来。

我注意到自从上次他去墓地，那场面让他患了一场大病，身体上的疾病似乎战胜了精神上的痛苦。玛格丽特的死已经确信无疑，他不再像以前那样了，反而感觉如释重负。为了不想那些常现眼前的灰暗情景，他总是回忆曾经和玛格丽特一起度过的美好时光，似乎他也只愿意回忆那些事情。

阿尔芒高烧刚退，身体还极度虚弱，精神上不能太激动。春天到了，眼前一片欣欣向荣的景象，这使得阿尔芒不由自主地回忆过去美好的时光。他一直不愿把自己的病情告诉家人，直到现在，他父亲还不知道他病过。

一天傍晚，我们照样坐在窗前聊天，这次比平时聊得都晚。天气非常好，夕阳西下，渐渐沉睡在金色和蔚蓝的暮色之中。虽然我们在巴黎，可窗外一片翠绿仿佛将我们与世隔绝，除了偶尔有车风驰而过，我们没有被任何外物所烦扰。

“差不多就是这样一个季节，像这样的一个傍晚，我第一次见到玛格丽特，”阿尔芒对我说道，他仿佛在沉思，想来几乎听不到我说话。我什么也没有回答。于是，他转过头来对我说：“我一定要把这个故事告诉你，你可以写成一本书，也许没有人会相信，可写成书确实很有趣。”

“你可以过些日子再告诉我，我的朋友，”我说，“你现在身体还没痊愈呢。”

“今天晚上很暖和，我已经吃过鸡脯子了，”他笑着说，“我的高烧已经退了，我们现在也没什么事干，我就给你讲讲这个故事吧。”

“既然你想讲，那我就洗耳恭听吧。”

以下是他告诉我的故事，非常感人，我几乎没作任何改动。

没错（阿尔芒将头靠在椅子上说道），没错，就是这样一个傍晚，我跟我的朋友R·嘉士顿先生在乡下玩了一天，傍晚才回到巴黎，闲得没事，我们便去瓦里爱特剧院看戏。中途休息时，我们到走廊上去透透气。一名身材修长的女人走过，我的朋友向她打了个招呼。

“你刚打招呼的是谁呢？”我问朋友。

“玛格丽特·戈蒂埃。”朋友答道。

“她大变样了，我几乎没有认出她来，”我激动地说道，至于我为什么激动，你一会儿就会明白。

“她病了，看来这个可怜的姑娘是活不久了啊。”

这些话，仿佛就像昨天刚听到一样。

我得告诉你，我的朋友，两年以来，我每次遇到她，心里就涌上一种奇特的感觉。也说不清是什么原因，我总是莫名其妙地脸色发白，心跳加速。我有一个研究秘术的朋友把这种感觉称作“流体的亲力”，而我则是简单地认为我命中注定爱上了她，这也是在我意料之中的事。

她常常给我留下深刻的印象，我的很多朋友也注意到了这点，不过当他们知道是谁给我留下深刻印象时，都觉得非常好笑。

我第一次是在交易所广场苏茜商店的门口遇到她的，一辆敞篷马车停下了，一个身着白色裙子的女人走了出来。她走进商店时，旁边不时有人发出赞叹声。而我却跟钉在地上了似的，从她进商店直到出来，站着就没动过。我隔着橱窗望着她在商店里选购东西，我可以进去，却不敢。我不知道她是谁，害怕她猜到我的来意便有所抵触。不过，那时候我根本没想到还会跟她再见。

她打扮高雅，身着一条镶满花边的细纱长裙，披着一条印度披肩，四角全是镶的金丝花边，戴着一顶草帽，一只手镯，还有一只当时刚开始流行的粗金手链。

购物之后她便上马车走了。其中一名店员站在门口，目送这位衣着高雅的客人的马车远去。于是我走上前去，跟他打听刚才那位姑娘的名字。

“玛格丽特·戈蒂埃小姐。”店员回答道。我也没敢继续追问她的住址，所以只好离开了。

当时的场景在我脑海里久久不能散去，就像之后跟她见过很多次，每次都难以忘怀一样。我四处寻找这位气质高贵的白衣女人。

几天过后，戏剧歌剧院有一场盛大的演出，我在其中一个包厢里见到的第一个人便是玛格丽特·戈蒂埃。

跟我同行的年轻人一眼就认出她来，于是他叫着她的名字对我说：“瞧那个漂亮姑娘！”

正在这时，玛格丽特拿起她的望远镜朝我们这边看，看见了我的朋友，朝他微笑，示意他过去。

“我过去跟她打个招呼，”朋友说，“很快就回来。”

我情不自禁地说，“你真幸运！”

“为什么？”

“能过去跟她打招呼啊！”

“你是不是爱上她了？”

“没有。”我顿时觉得两颊发热，因为不知道该怎么说，“不过我还是非常愿意认识她的。”

“跟我一块过去吧，我介绍你认识。”

“你先去问问她吧。”

“没关系，跟她没必要那么客气，来吧。”

朋友的话让我心里很是不安，担心会发现玛格丽特并不是值得我爱的女人。

阿尔丰斯·卡尔在他一本名为《烟雾》的小说里曾经提到过：一天晚上，一名男子尾随一名美丽的女人，她举止优雅，容貌艳丽，第一眼他便爱上了她。他觉得吻吻她的手就能让他有从事一切的力量和战胜一切的意志以及取得成功的勇气。这个女人怕身上沾上泥土，便撩起了裙子，露出了一段精致的小腿，他几乎都不敢看上一眼。当他正在幻想拥有这个女人时，她停下脚步，站在街角处，问他是否愿意去她家。于是他转过头去，穿过大街，伤心地回到了自己的家。

我想起了这段故事。本来很想为这个女人受苦，但我担心她过快地接受我，怕她很快爱上我，我总觉得爱情需要经过长时间的等待和历经曲折才能得到的。男人就是这种脾气，如果能使我们的想象富于诗意，灵魂的幻想胜过肉欲，那就太幸运了。假如有人对我说：“今晚你可以得到她，但是明天你将被杀。”我会接受的。如果有人对我说：“花十镑，你就可以做她的情人。”我不会接受，而且会痛哭，像小孩子一觉醒来发现梦里的城堡消失了一样。

可我还是希望认识她，因为只有认识她才能了解她。于是我坚持让朋友问她之后再介绍我认识，我在走廊上徘徊了一阵，心里想着她很快就会见到我了，而我还手足无措。我努力（爱情是多么纯洁啊！）想好我要对她说的话。

不一会儿，我的朋友回来说道：“她在等我们。”

“就她自己吗？”我问朋友。

“还有另外一个女人。”

“没有男的？”

“没有。”

“走吧。”

我的朋友向剧场大门走去。

“不是那边吧。”我说。

“我们得先去买点儿糖果，她叫我买点儿。”

于是我们进了剧场过道上的一个糖果铺。我真想把整个店买下来。我正在四处看选什么的时候，朋友说要一镑蜜饯葡萄。

“你知道她喜欢吃这种？”

“她只吃这种，大家都知道。”

“噢，”我们出了店铺他还继续说道，“你知道你要见到的是一个什么样的女人吗？不要以为她是个公爵夫人啊，她只是个妓女，地地道道的妓女，我的朋友。别不好意思，想说什么就说。”

“好的，好的，”我嘟嘟囔囔地说道。我跟着朋友，心想我的热情可能快没了。

我们进入玛格丽特的包厢时，玛格丽特在放声大笑。我倒是宁愿她忧郁点。我的朋友把我介绍给她，玛格丽特对我微微点了点头，然后问道：“我的蜜饯呢？”

“在这儿。”

她一边看着我一边接了过去。我低下头，满脸通红。

她侧身凑到邻座的女人耳朵旁说着什么，然后两人都放声大笑。弄半天，我成了他们取笑的对象，这时候我更加尴尬了。那时候我本来有一个非常善良多情的情人，她那多情的性格和伤感的情书常常逗得我发笑。此时此刻，我终于懂得了我曾经那么对她给她带去多大的伤害。有五分钟左右，我爱她就像从来没有爱过女人一样疯狂。

玛格丽特吃着蜜饯，不再理我。介绍我们认识的朋友也不愿意看到我如此窘迫。

“玛格丽特，”他说道，“杜瓦尔先生没说话，你别觉得奇怪，你让他精神紧张了，一时不知道该说什么。”

“相反，我倒是认为你是一个人觉得无聊才带这位先生一起来的。”

“要是这样，”我开口说道，“我就不会请欧内斯特先来征得你的同意再介绍我给你认识了。”

“这可能是拖延这倒霉时刻的办法吧。”

无论谁，认识玛格丽特这样的女人都知道她们喜欢装疯卖傻，喜欢拿初次见面的人寻开心。因为他们常常受到跟她们见面的人的侮辱，这就算是对别人侮辱的报复吧。

因此要对付她们，需要她们圈内的办法，我也不会。而且我先前对玛格丽特的印象让我觉得她的玩笑开得过分了。对于她，我不能无动于衷。于是我站了起来，带着无法抑制的沮丧说道：

“夫人，如果你认为我是那样的人的话，我只好说请原谅我的冒失，我现在就离开，保证以后再也不会发生这样的事情了。”

于是我给她们行了个礼便出了包厢。我还没来得及关门，突然听到第三次大笑。这时候，我真希望有人来撞我一下，也许会舒服点。

我回到了座位上。这时候开幕的信号响了。欧内斯特也回到了我身旁的座位上。

“看你是怎么搞的！”他一边坐下一边说道，“她们会觉得你神经有问题的。”

“我离开之后玛格丽特说什么了？”

“她大笑，说她从未见过如此可笑的人。不过你不要以为自己失去了一次机会，别拿这些女人当真。她们不知道礼仪廉耻的。就像替狗洒香水一样，它们不会觉得好闻的，甚至还要跑到水里打滚洗掉。”

“这与我有什么关系？”我故意漠不关心地说道，“我不会再见这个女人，如果说见她之前还喜欢她的话，那么现在完全不同了。”

“算了吧！总会有一天传出你坐在她的包厢，然后为她倾家荡产的消息。不过，你是对的，她没有良好的教养，可她很有魅力，可以做情妇啊。”

幸好开幕了，要不我的朋友还得讲下去。其实我那天什么也没看，舞台上演的什么一概不知。只记得我当时时不时抬起眼睛望望我窘迫离开的包厢，包厢那边新去的拜访者络绎不绝。

可是，我根本忘不了玛格丽特，另外一种想法一下子浮现在脑海。似乎我应该忘掉她刚才对我的侮辱，也忘掉我自己的荒诞可笑。心想，就算倾家荡产也要得到她，也要赢得刚才我很快就放弃了的位置。

戏还没完，玛格丽特和她的女伴就离开了。我起身。

“你要出去？”欧内斯特问道。

“是的。”

“干吗呢？”

这时候他发现那边的包厢空了。

“去吧，去吧，”他说，“祝你好运！好好运！”

于是我出去了。

我听到楼梯上沙沙作响的衣裙摩擦的声音，也有说话的声音。我躲到楼梯一旁以防别人看到，只见两个青年陪着两个女人走过，在剧场入口处有一个服务员向他们走去。

“告诉车夫到英国咖啡馆门口等我，”玛格丽特说道，“我们走路过去。”

几分钟过后，我看见玛格丽特在对面街道上一个餐馆的其中一个包房的窗户边坐着，一瓣一瓣地摘她手里的茶花。其中一名男子靠着她的肩膀，凑着她的耳朵悄悄地说着什么。于是我走进梅森咖啡馆，拣了一楼的一个座位坐下，目不转睛地盯着那边的窗户。凌晨一点钟，三个年轻人和玛格丽特上了马车，我也叫了辆车跟着他们。马车停在昂坦大街九号，玛格丽特下车后自己一个人进了门。毫无疑问，她一个人回家只是个偶然，但是这个偶然已经让我非常幸福了。

从那些之后，我常常在剧院或者香榭丽舍大街遇到玛格丽特，遇到她时她总是很高兴的样子，我也是满心欢喜。

终于，有两周没见过她。遇到加斯顿的时候我向他打听她的消息。

“可怜的姑娘，她病得很严重。”他告诉我说。

“她怎么了？”

“她患了肺病，而且她过的那种生活对她的病没什么好处。她已经卧床不起了，活不长了。”

真是人心难测啊，不过我倒是挺高兴她生病的。

我每天都去看她，不过我既没告诉他们我的名字也没留下我的名片。就这样，一直到她身体好些之后去了巴涅尔。

时光流逝，如果不是我忘了她，那就是对她的印象渐渐淡薄了。出去旅游，谈情说爱，生活琐事，工作繁忙，这一切让我渐渐淡忘了她。每当回忆起那次邂逅，我也只是觉得是一时冲动，而且这种事情通常发生在年幼无知的青年身上，今非昔比，只能一笑了之罢了。

再说，对我来说，忘记过去也是人之常情，毕竟自从玛格丽特离开巴黎之后，我就再也没见过她。就像我刚才说的，当她从瓦丽爱特剧院走廊走过，我都没认出她来。固然她当时戴着面纱，可换成两年前，即使她戴着面纱，我也一眼就能认出她来，根本用不着看她的脸，凭直觉猜也能猜出来。尽管如此，我当时知道是她的时候心情还是无比激动。两年没见，对她的感情逐渐淡漠，可一见到她的裙子，一切又回到从前了。

第八章

可是（阿尔芒接着说道），当我意识到我还一直爱着玛格丽特的时候，我更加肯定自己的感情，希望跟她再见，告诉她我现在比以前更自信了。

为了实现心中的愿望，需要想多少办法，编多少理由啊！

我在走廊里再也待不下去了，我回到自己的座位坐了下来，一面迅速扫了一眼她坐在哪个包厢。她独自坐在底层包厢，样子变了，像我前面说过的一样，嘴角不再带着曾经满不在乎的微笑。她病了，而且一直没好。尽管已经是四月份的天气，她仍然穿着冬天的衣服，外面还裹着羊毛披肩。

我呆呆地看着她，终于引起了她的注意。她盯着我看了一会儿，又拿起望远镜想仔细瞧瞧，仿佛在哪儿见过，但是又不敢确定的样子，于是她放下望远镜，莞尔一笑，嘴角掠过一丝妩媚的笑容，这是女人致意的笑容。但是我没有作出反应，故作高贵的样子，装作仿佛我已经忘记她了，可她还记得我的样子。她以为认错了人，把头转了过去。

幕布升了起来。演出期间，我看了玛格丽特好几次，她似乎心不在焉的样子，也没怎么看演出。而我呢，对演出同样也是心不在焉，我只关心她，不过尽量不让她看到。

当时，我看见她在和对面包厢的女人交换眼神，便向对面包厢看去，发现那是个我熟悉的女人。她以前是个妓女，曾经一度想演戏，不过没成功。后来靠着她和巴黎那些时髦人士的关系，做起了生意，开了一个时装店铺。我突然想到通过她能和玛格丽特见上面，趁她往我这边看的时候，我跟她挥手、递了个眼神打了个招呼。果不出所料，她招呼我去她的包厢。

时装店老板名叫普鲁登丝·杜维尔努瓦，是一个四十来岁的胖女人，要跟她们打听事情，用不着多少外交手腕，特别是我打听的事情又那么简单。

她正冲着玛格丽特微笑的时候，我趁机问她，“你在跟谁打招呼啊？”

“玛格丽特·戈蒂埃。”

“你认识她？”

“认识，她是我的老顾客，也是我的邻居。”

“你住在昂坦大街？”

“七号，她的梳妆间窗户正好对着我的。”

“别人说她长得很迷人。”

“你不认识她吗？”

“不认识，不过我愿意认识她。”

“要不我叫她到我们的包厢来？”

“不用了，最好还是你介绍我给她认识吧。”

“去她家里吗？”

“是的。”

“那比较困难。”

“为什么呢？”

“因为现在有个嫉妒心强的老公爵监管着她。”

“监管，不是更好吗？！”

“是的，监督，”普鲁登丝回答道，“可怜的老公爵，做她的情人可真够费劲呢。”

普鲁登丝接着告诉了我玛格丽特在巴涅尔结识老公爵的过程。

“那么，”我继续说，“这就是她一个人在这儿的原因？”

“没错。”

“可谁送她回家呢？”

“就是他。”

“他会来接她？”

“过一会儿就会来。”

“你呢，谁送你回家呢？”

“没人。”

“我可以吗？”

“你不是还有位朋友吗？”

“那我们一起送你怎样？”

“你的朋友是谁呢？”

“一个非常有魅力的小伙子，很幽默。他会乐意认识你的。”

“呃，好吧。这幕戏完了咱们就走吧，因为我已看过最后一幕了。”

“非常高兴，那我过去跟朋友打声招呼。”

“去吧。噢！”我刚要走，普鲁登丝又说道，“老公爵来接玛格丽特了。”

我看了看那边。果然是一位七十来岁的老人坐在她身后，正递给她一袋子蜜饯，她笑眯眯地打开袋子掏出蜜饯，然后还伸手向普鲁登丝晃了两下，似乎向她示意，“要吃点吗？”

“不用了。”普鲁登丝摆手回答。

玛格丽特拿回袋子，转过身，开始和公爵聊了起来。

跟你讲这些琐事似乎有点天真，可与玛格丽特相关的每一件事情我都记得清清楚楚，直到今天也难以忘怀。

我下楼告诉了加斯顿我的安排。他同意了，然后我们直接去了杜维尔努瓦的包厢。我们刚一打开正厅的门，就不得不停下来，让玛格丽特和老公爵先出去。此时此刻，少活十年我也愿意占据老公爵的位置。

到了街上，老公爵扶她上了四轮敞篷马车，他亲自驾车，两匹骏马拉着他们远去了。

我们到了普鲁登丝的包厢。戏剧结束以后，我们乘了一辆车到了昂坦大街七号。到了门口，普鲁登丝邀请我们上去参观她引以为豪的时装室，让我们开开眼界，说是我们肯定没见过。你可以想象我当时是多么心急想见到玛格丽特，于是接受了她的邀请。我仿佛觉得在一步步接近玛格丽特，不一会儿，我便把话题扯向了玛格丽特。

“老公爵是你的邻居吧。”我对普鲁登丝说。

“噢，不。她大概自己一个人住。”

“那她岂不是非常寂寞。”加斯顿说。

“我们几乎每天晚上都在一起，要么就是她从外面回来之后叫我过去。她在凌晨两点之前是睡不着觉的。”

“为什么？”

“因为她有肺病，一直在发烧。”

“她没有任何情人吗？”我问道。

“我在她家的时候，没看到有，我不知道我离开之后有没有。晚上在她家的时候，常常有某个N伯爵十一点去拜访她，为了讨她欢心，送给她很多首饰，她要多少就给多少。可她并不喜欢他。她错了，他是个阔少。我常常徒劳地告诉她：“亲爱的孩子，这人对你不错。”她一般都比较听我的建议，可一说到这儿，她就转过身去说他太蠢了，说真的，他确实很蠢。可对她来说，总需要有个着落吧，老公爵说不清哪天就归天，什么也不留给她。有两个原因他什么也不会留给玛格丽特：一方面老头子都很自私，再加上他家人一直反对他对玛格丽特好。我跟她建议，她只是说，等公爵死了，跟伯爵再好也不迟。

“像她这样也不是事事有意思的，”普鲁登丝继续说道，“这个我非常清楚。我反正是受不了，要是我会撵走老公爵的，他太无聊了，他管她叫女儿，把她当孩子养，可他总监视她。我敢肯定现在街上就有他的仆人在四处溜达监视，看看有谁从她家出来，谁进了她家。”

“唉，可怜的玛格丽特！”加斯顿一面说一面在钢琴前面坐了下来，开始弹起了华尔兹。“这些事我不知道，不过我看她最近不是很开心。”

“嘘，别出声！”普鲁登丝一边侧耳听着一边说道。加斯顿停了下来。

“她好像在叫我。”

我们一起侧耳听，确实有个声音在叫，“普鲁登丝！”

“噢！你们现在得离开了，”杜维尔努瓦说道。

“你就这样待客的啊，”加斯顿笑着说道，“我们还不想走呢。”

“为什么我们要走呢？”

“我要去玛格丽特那边啊。”

“我们在这儿等着。”

“那不行。”

“要不我们跟你一起去吧。”

“更不行。”

“我认识玛格丽特，”加斯顿说，“我当然可以去拜访她。”

“可阿尔芒不认识她。”

“我可以介绍他认识啊。”

“那怎么行呢。”

玛格丽特又在叫普鲁登丝，她急忙跑到她的梳妆室，我和加斯顿也紧随其后，接着她打开了窗户。我们俩躲了起来，以防被玛格丽特看见。

“我都叫你十分钟了，”玛格丽特从窗户对面说道，口气有点生硬。

“你叫我干吗呢？”

“我叫你马上过来啊。”

“有事儿吗？”

“N伯爵在我这儿，我简直烦死他了。”

“我现在走不开啊。”

“有谁拦着你吗？”

“有两个年轻人在我这儿，他们不愿意走。”

“告诉他们你有事儿必须得走。”

“已经说了，不管用。”

“呃，那就让他们待你家吧，他们见你出门了就会走的。”

“他们还不得把我家弄翻天。”

“那他们想干嘛？”

“他们想见你。”

“都是谁？”

“一个你认识，R·加斯顿先生。”

“哦，没错，我认识他。另外一个呢？”

“阿尔芒·杜瓦尔先生，你不认识。”

“是不认识。那叫他们来吧。总比那个伯爵好吧。我等你们，快来吧。”

玛格丽特关上了她梳妆室的窗户，普鲁登丝也关上了自己的。玛格丽特曾经一度记得我的样子，但是不知道我叫什么。我倒是宁愿她还记得我，哪怕是不好的印象，也总比忘了的好吧。

“我早知道，”加斯顿说，“她会很高兴我们去的。”

“高兴？未必吧。”普鲁登丝一面戴上她的帽子，披上她的披肩，一面回答道，“她要见你们是想摆脱那个伯爵。你们尽量表现好点吧。我是知道玛格丽特的，不然她会跟我闹别扭的。”

我们跟着普鲁登丝下了楼，感觉浑身在发抖。我仿佛觉得这次拜访将会是我人生当中一个很重要的转折点。我内心无比激动，比上次在戏剧歌剧院的包厢里加斯顿介绍我给她认识还要激动。刚到门口，我的心都快跳出来了，脑子里一片空白。

我们听到了钢琴的声音。普鲁登丝按了门铃。琴声停了下来，一个看起来不像佣人而更像她的女伴的人来应了门。我们走到大客厅，然后又穿过大客厅到到了小客厅——就是你后来看见的那间小客厅，一位年轻男子靠着壁炉站着。玛格丽特坐在钢琴旁，十个手指软绵绵地弹着她并不想完成的曲子。整个屋子气氛很沉闷，男的因为自己的愚笨而觉得尴尬，女的则是因为这个无聊的家伙来访正心烦。听到普鲁登丝的声音，玛格丽特立刻起身，很感激的样子迎上前来说道：“请进，先生们，欢迎光临！”

第九章

“晚上好，亲爱的加斯顿先生，”玛格丽特向我的朋友打着招呼，“非常高兴见到你。那天在瓦丽爱特剧院，你怎么不来我的包厢呢？”

“我怕有点冒昧。”

“我们是朋友啊，”玛格丽特着重强调了一下朋友这两个字。似乎她是要使在场的人知道虽然她很亲切地接待加斯顿，可他不论过去还是现在都是她的朋友，“朋友就别那么见外了吧。”

“那你允许我向你介绍阿尔芒·杜瓦尔先生吗？”

“我答应普鲁登丝给我介绍了啊。”

“可是，女士，”我鞠躬行了个礼，好容易迸了一句话出来，“我很荣幸早已被人介绍给你了。”

玛格丽特美丽的眼睛一动不动，仿佛在回忆着什么，可她一点想不起来，似乎是记不起来了。

“女士，”我继续说道，“很感激你忘了第一次见面，我当时太可笑了，你一定觉得很无聊。是在戏剧剧院，两年前，我和欧内斯特一起——”

“噢，想起来了，”玛格丽特微笑着说道，“不是你可笑，是我自己爱捉弄人，现在也爱，不过比以前好多了。原谅我了吧？”

她伸出手，我吻了一下。

“真的，”她继续说道，“你知道我以前有个坏毛病，总想捉弄初次见面的人。想起来挺傻的，我的医生说是因为我一直生病，神经有点紧张，请相信我的医生。”

“你看起来挺好的啊。”

“噢！我刚大病了一场！”

“我知道。”

“你怎么知道呢？”

“大家都知道啊。我常常来询问你的病情，后来听说你康复了，我自然很高兴。”

“可我从来没收到过你的名片呀。”

“我当时没留。”

“是你吗？我生病的时候，有个年轻人总是来打听我的病情，并且从来不留下姓名？”

“没错，是我。”

“你心胸太宽广了！心肠太好了！”她看了我一眼，女人常常用这种方式来补充语言的不足，随后，她对N伯爵说，“伯爵，换了你，会这样吗？”

“我才认识你两个月啊。”

“可我和他就认识五分钟，你讲话总是很荒谬。”

女人对她们不喜欢的人总是满不在乎的。当时，伯爵的脸一下子涨红了，紧紧地咬住嘴唇。

我很同情他，他似乎跟我一样，也爱上了玛格丽特，可玛格丽特的直白简直让他很难看，尤其是在两个陌生人面前。

“我们进来的时候，你在弹琴吧？”我换了个话题说道，“你要是把我当老朋友，就继续弹琴吧？”

“嗯，”她示意我们坐下，一面倒在了沙发上说道，“加斯顿知道我弹得怎么样。我跟伯爵在一起的时候还凑合，我可不愿折磨你们俩的耳朵。”

“你这是对我的偏爱么？”N伯爵自我解嘲地笑着说道。

“别怪我，我就这点偏爱。”这个可怜的家伙注定只能闭嘴了，他看了玛格丽特一眼，一副很哀怨的眼神。

“呃，普鲁登丝，”她继续说，“我托你的事办好了么？”

“办好了。”

“太好了，一会儿再告诉我吧。有些事我得跟你谈谈，请你别走啊。”

“我们好像来得不是时候，”我说，“现在我们，或者说是我，已经第二次介绍了，那么，我和加斯顿，就失陪了。”

“没事。我不是这个意思，我希望你们留下来。”

伯爵从衣袋里掏出一块非常精美的表，看了看时间，“我得去俱乐部了，”他说。玛格丽特没作声。伯爵离开了靠着的壁炉，走向玛格丽特说道，“再见，女士。”

玛格丽特起身说道，“再见，亲爱的伯爵。你这就走吗？”

“是的，恐怕让你厌烦了。”

“今天并不比以前更讨厌啊，那我们什么时候再见啊？”

“等你愿意的时候吧。”

“那么，再见吧。”

你得承认，她这招太残忍了！幸好伯爵受过良好的教育，很有涵养。他只是吻了吻玛格丽特漫不经心伸出去的手，然后向我们行了个礼便离开了。

走出房门的时候，他回头看了普鲁登丝一眼。她也只好耸了耸肩膀，无耐的样子，好像在说：“你想怎么样呢？该做的我都做了。”

“娜妮娜！”玛格丽特大声叫道，“送伯爵到门口。”

我们只听到开门和关门的声音。

“他总算走了！”玛格丽特转身大声说道，“那个人太烦人了！”

“亲爱的孩子，”普鲁登丝说，“你真的对他太残忍了！他对你那么好，瞧瞧壁炉上还搁着他送你的表，我相信他至少花了三千法郎。”

杜维尔瓦努女士走近壁炉，拿起她刚提到的表贪婪地看着。

“亲爱的，”玛格丽特坐到钢琴前面说道，“假如我把他送的礼物放在天平的一端，将他说的话放在天平的另一端，对我来说，我还觉得接受他来访还算便宜的呢。”

“可怜的家伙，毕竟他爱你。”

“我要是听每个爱我的人说话，恐怕连饭也吃不上。”

她随手弹起琴来，然后转身说道：

“你们想吃点什么吗？我想来点潘趣酒。”

“我想吃点鸡肉吧，”普鲁登丝说，“我们吃夜宵怎么样？”

“行啊，咱们去吃夜宵吧。”加斯顿说。

她按了下铃，娜妮娜便过来了。

“去准备点夜宵吧！”

“需要什么呢？”

“随便吧，越快越好！”

于是娜妮娜出去了。

“好啦，”玛格丽特像个孩子似的跳起来说道，“我们有夜宵了！那伯爵真是太讨厌了！”

我越看她越是喜欢，她太美了，让人沉醉。连她的瘦削都那么迷人，我的脑子已经不听使唤了。

我究竟是怎么啦？我也无法说清楚。我非常同情她的人生，对她的美貌赞叹不已。她不愿接受一个富有、时尚并且甘愿为她倾家荡产的年轻人，这就足以让我原谅她过去所有的错误了。

因为在这个女人身上，有某种单纯的东西。可以看出，她虽然表面上过着放荡的生活，可她内心还是纯洁的。她步态稳健，婀娜多姿，红润的鼻翼微微张开，大大的眼睛四周有一圈淡淡的蓝色，表明她是一个生性热情的人，这样的人身上总是散发着一种撩人情欲的香味，就像东方的香水瓶一样，无论盖子盖多严实，总不免散发出一些香味。不管是她简单的天性还是她的病态，在这个女人的眼里偶尔总是闪烁着希望的光芒，而她这种希望就意味着是她将爱的人向天起誓的诺言，可那些爱过玛格丽特的人或者她曾经爱过的人则都不在其内的。

这个女人似乎是个走错道路成为妓女的童贞女，又仿佛是一个很容易变成最善良、最纯洁多情的女子的妓女。玛格丽特是傲气的，是独立的。要是这两种情感受到了伤害，可能起着与羞耻感同样的作用。我一言不发，我的灵魂似乎钻到了我的心里，而我的心似乎钻到了眼睛里。

“这么说，”玛格丽特继续说道，“在我生病的时候，你常来打听我的病况啦？”

“是的。”

“你可太好啦！我怎么谢谢你呢？”

“允许我常来看你就行。”

“随时欢迎，下午五点到六点，晚上十一点到十二点。这样吧，加斯顿，请为我弹一首《邀舞曲》吧。”

“为什么呢？”

“一来是我爱听，二来我自己弹不好。”

“你觉得哪部分最难呢？”

“第三部分，高音那部分。”

加斯顿起身走到钢琴前面坐下来，开始弹起了韦伯的美妙的曲子，乐谱摊开在钢琴谱架上。

玛格丽特一手扶着钢琴，眼神随着琴谱上每一个音符移动着，嘴里还低声吟唱着，等加斯顿弹到她刚说的难处时，她一面用手指在钢琴上面敲打着节拍，一面唱着：

“Do，re，mi，do，re，fa，mi，re；这就是我弹不下去的地方，请再弹一遍吧。”

加斯顿又弹了一遍，玛格丽特接着说道，“让我来试试吧。”

她又坐下来开始弹，但是还是弹不好，她那不听话的手指弹到某个音符时总出错。

“你说怪不怪？”她像个孩子似的说道，“我怎么就过不了这关呢？你们信不信我常常早上花两小时弹这段？我一想到那个讨厌的伯爵不用乐谱就能弹得很好，我就恨死他了，我就是为这个才讨厌他的。”她又弹了一次，结果还是弹错了。

“让韦伯、乐谱和钢琴都见鬼去吧！”她大声叫道，把乐谱扔到了屋子的另一头。“我为什么就不能连着弹那八个高音呢？”玛格丽特一边交叉着双臂看着我们，一边跺着脚。她气得脸通红，一阵微微的咳嗽使她半张着本来紧闭的嘴唇。

“瞧，瞧，”普鲁登丝摘下帽子之后在镜子前面梳理她的头发，说道，“你又生气了，这对你的身体不好，咱们去吃夜宵吧，我都快饿死了。”

玛格丽特按了铃，然后她又坐到了钢琴前面，嘴巴里哼哼着一首非常低俗的歌曲，这支曲子她弹得一点也没出错。加斯顿知道这首歌曲，于是便来了个二重唱。

“请你别唱这种低俗歌曲了，”我恳求玛格丽特道。

“噢！你多正经啊！”她一面伸手给我，一面说道。

她是想示意我说：“哼，我早就不是处女了！”此时，娜妮娜进来了。

“夜宵好了吗？”玛格丽特问道。

“好了，夫人，马上就来。”

“还有，”普鲁登丝对我说，“你还没参观过这儿，我带你去吧。”你已经知道了，客厅布置得精美绝伦。

玛格丽特陪了我们一会儿，随后她叫加斯顿跟她去用餐室看看夜宵准备好没。

“呀，”普鲁登丝看见一只多层架子上面有一尊萨克逊人的小塑像，于是惊讶地叫道，“我还从来没见你藏有这小帅哥呢。”

“哪个？”

“一个手里拿着鸟笼的小牧童。”

“喜欢的话，拿去吧。”

“我可不是这个意思啊。”

“我觉得挺难看的，本来想送给我的女佣的，既然你喜欢，就送你好了。”

普鲁登丝只看重礼物，并不在意送礼的方式。她把小雕像搁在一旁，然后带我进了梳妆室，指着两幅并排挂着的迷你画对我说，“那是G伯爵，他曾经非常爱玛格丽特，就是他捧红她的。你认识他吗？”

“不认识。这幅呢？”我指着另外一幅问道。

“这是小L子爵，他不得不离开了她。”

“为什么呢？”

“因为他几乎倾家荡产了。他又是一个爱过玛格丽特的人！”

“那么她肯定也爱他了？”

“她性格非常古怪，没人知道她怎么想的。子爵要离开的那天晚上，她照样去看戏，可他真的跟她辞行的时候，她却哭了。”

这时，娜妮娜进来了，告诉我们夜宵已经准备好了。

我们走进餐室时，玛格丽特靠着墙，加斯顿拉着她的手正轻声地说着什么。

“你疯啦！”玛格丽特高声叫道，“你知道我不会同意的。都认识两年了，怎么现在想要我做情人呢。我们这些人，要么立刻上床，要么永远都不。来吧，先生们，吃夜宵！”

玛格丽特迅速逃离加斯顿，并安排他坐她右边，我坐她左边，然后对娜妮娜说：

“你先去和厨房里的人说一下，要是有人来访，别去应门，然后你过来一起吃。”

这时候已经大约是凌晨一点了。

吃夜宵的时候，我们吃喝玩乐，好不快哉！大家玩得简直太疯狂了，甚至时不时还听到好些低俗难以入耳的话，这些对某些人来说却是逗乐，娜妮娜，普鲁登丝，还有玛格丽特都拿它开心呢。加斯顿玩得太尽兴了，他本来是个善良的青年，可早年沾染的一些坏习气让他有些腐化了。我曾一度努力忘掉自我，迫使自己不要多想当时庸俗的场面而参与他们纵情的快乐算了，可我还是渐渐地退出了这喧嚣热闹的场景，酒还是满的。看着这位二十来岁的美丽姑娘喝着酒，而且跟个脚夫似的谈吐，越低俗她笑得还越来劲，我心里就越发难受了。

然而，这样的纵情找乐，这样的讲话喝酒，对我来说，完全是生活放荡、乱交朋友沾染上坏习气的结果。可对玛格丽特，我却觉得是她忘记现实的需要，一种狂热，一种神经质的狂热。每喝一杯香槟，她的脸颊就呈现发烧似的绯红。刚开始吃夜宵时，她还只是轻微地咳嗽，到了深夜，她咳嗽得更厉害了，所以她只好仰头靠在椅子上，一咳嗽得厉害，她便用力按住胸口。

她身体虚弱，每天还过着这样过度地透支体力和如此放荡的生活，我真为她难受。不久，我担心的事终于发生了。夜宵快结束的时候，玛格丽特一阵狂咳，这是我在她家看到的咳嗽得最严重的一次，看她难受得肺都快撕裂了的样子，可怜的姑娘脸涨得绯红，痛苦地闭上了眼睛，拿起餐巾纸擦了擦嘴，一点咳血沾上了餐巾纸，她起身跑进了梳妆室。

“玛格丽特怎么啦？”加斯顿问道。

“她笑得太疯狂了，引发咳血了。噢，没事，她每天都会这样，过一分钟她会回来的，让她自己待会儿就好了，她喜欢这样。”

我忍不住了，没管普鲁登丝和娜妮娜大声地想叫住我，我还是起身去看玛格丽特了。

第十章

她躲进的那间屋子桌上只点了一只蜡烛。她平躺在一张巨大的沙发上，松开了裙带，一只手按住胸口，另一只手垂在沙发外面。桌上还搁着一只银脸盆，盛着半盆清水，水上漂浮着缕缕血丝。

玛格丽特脸色惨白，半张着嘴，努力想喘过气来。她不时地深呼吸，然后长出一口气，似乎这样能减轻一点痛苦，能让她舒服几秒钟。

我走到她跟前，她一动不动。我坐了下来，握住了她垂在外面的那只手。

“噢，是你啊，”她微笑着说。

大概我看起来神色很不好，因为她又问道：

“你也病了？”

“没有。可是你——还很难受么？”

“有点儿，”她用手帕擦了擦咳嗽引发的眼泪，接着说道：“不过已经习惯了。”

“你这是在慢性自杀啊，夫人，”我很激动地对她说，“我希望做你的朋友，你的亲人，不让你这样糟践自己。”

“唉！实在不值得你这么大惊小怪的，”她似乎有点心酸地说，“瞧别人没有像你这样的！他们都知道我这个病是无药可医了。”

刚说完话，她便起身，拿起蜡烛放在壁炉上，然后去照了照镜子。

“我脸色太难看了！”她一面系好裙带，一面用手捋了捋散乱的头发，然后说，“走吧，咱们接着去吃夜宵。你去吗？”

我静静地坐着，没起身。

她看到我因为她刚才那一幕很难受，便走上前来说，“看看你，咱们走吧。”

我握着她的一只手，放到唇边，眼泪不由自主地落在了她手上。

“唉，怎么还像个孩子！”她一面坐在我身边一面说，“喂，你在哭啊，怎么啦？”

“你肯定觉得我傻，可刚才看见你那样我心里确实难受。”

“你心肠真好！那你让我怎么办呢？我睡不着，所以才找点乐子。而且，像我这样的女人，多一个少一个又有什么呢？医生说是因为支气管出血，我只好装作相信他们，我能做的就只有这些了。”

“听着，玛格丽特，”我无法控制自己的情绪，于是对她说道，“我不知道你对我今后的生活会产生多大的影响，可现在，没有别人，只有你，我对你的关心超过了任何人，包括我的妹妹，而且这种感觉是从第一次见到你就开始了。请看在上帝的分上，好好保重身体，别那么作践自己了。”

“像你说的保重身体，我会死的。现在唯一支撑我活下去的就是过这样的生活。而且‘保重身体’这几个字恐怕只有对那些有亲人、有朋友的女人才有意义吧，像我们这种人，一旦不能满足情人的虚荣或者不能伺候他们寻欢作乐，他们就会甩掉我们，那我们就只能独守长夜，度日如年。这些我都知道！哼！我卧床两个月，才三周就没人来看我了。”

“我对你来说确实算不了什么，”我继续说道，“可如果你愿意的话，我情愿像亲哥哥一样照顾你，我决不会扔下你一个人，我要治好你的病。等你身体康复之后，只要你喜欢，你想过现在这样的生活也行，可我相信，你一定会喜欢过平淡清净的生活的，这你会更加开心，永远漂亮。”

“今天你这么想，那是你喝酒之后一时伤感罢了，酒醒之后你不会再像现在装作很有耐心的样子。”

“请听我说，玛格丽特，你病了两个月，我几乎每天都来打听你的病况。”

“这倒是真的，你为什么不上楼来啊？”

“因为不认识。”

“跟我这样的人有什么不方便的呢？”

“跟陌生女人在一起总觉得别扭，至少我是这么想的。”

“这么说，你真的会来看我吗？”

“是的。”

“整天陪着我吗？”

“是的。”

“晚上也是吗？”

“只要你不厌烦。”

“你管这叫什么呢？”

“忠心。”

“那么你怎么能这么忠心呢？”

“对你难以抑制的同情。”

“这么说你爱上我了？直接说吧，更简单点。”

“可能吧，不过有一天我会说的，但不是今天。”

“你最好永远也别说。”

“为什么？”

“因为这种表白只有两种结果。”

“哪两种？”

“要么是我不接受，你会怨恨我；要么我接受，你就会有一个多愁善感的情人，一个有点神经质的女人，一个有病的女人，一个忧郁的女人，一个快乐的时候比悲伤的时候还痛苦的女人，一个咳血的女人，一个一年要花费十万法郎的女人，对公爵那样有钱的老头还行，可你一个年轻人，岂不是要跟别的年轻情人一样，很快就弃我而去。”

我没有作答，只是听她说。她的坦诚，她的几乎忏悔的自白，几乎透露着她纸醉金迷的生活背后掩藏的内心的痛苦。可怜的姑娘，在放荡、酗酒和失眠中逃避现实生活。听到这些，我感慨万千，此时此刻，我一句话也说不出来。

“不说了，”玛格丽特说，“跟个孩子似的，扶着我去餐厅吧，别让他们知道了。”

“你想去就去吧，让我在这儿待会儿。”

“为什么？”

“因为你的快乐伤害了我。”

“啊？那我就愁眉苦脸好了。”

“玛格丽特，让我跟你讲一件事情，这件事情你肯定也是经常听，估计你听多了也就不觉得新鲜了，也不会当回事儿。可我说的的确是实话，以后我也不再讲了。”

“什么事？……”她微笑着说道，就像一位年轻的妈妈在听她傻傻的孩子讲故事一样。

“是这样的，自从我遇见你，我也不知道怎么回事，什么原因，你的样子一直在我心里挥之不去。我曾努力忘掉你，可你的影子总是又会出现在我脑海里。已经两年没见了，今天又见到你，我的心更难以平静了。既然你今天接待我了，我又认识了你，又听你讲了你自己的奇特经历，你成了我生命中不可或缺的人，别说你不爱我，就算你不让我爱你，我也会为你而疯狂的。”

“可是，可怜的家伙啊，我要学杜维尔努瓦夫人跟你讲话了，‘你一定很有钱咯！’难道你不知道我每个月要花掉五六千法郎，没有钱我简直过不下去，你不知道，我可怜的朋友，我会很快让你倾家荡产的，要是你家人知道你跟我这样的女人混在一起，他们不会再给你钱的。咱们做朋友吧，好朋友，不能超越这个。你可以常来看我，我们快快乐乐地在一起玩，但是别把我当个宝贝，我不值得你那样。你心肠好，需要真正的爱情。在我们这个圈子里，你还太年轻了，太容易动真情了，你还是去找个有夫之妇作情人吧。瞧，我跟你多直白。”

“好啊，你们在这儿搞什么鬼啊？”普鲁登丝突然出现在门口叫道，她什么时候来的，我们全然没注意。她头发散乱，衣衫不整，看得出是加斯顿搞的怪。

“我们在讲正事，”玛格丽特说，“你先过去，让我们单独待会儿吧，我们一会儿就过去。”

“好吧，好吧！你们谈吧，孩子们，”普鲁登丝说着便关门离开了。她关门似乎是为了特别强调她刚才说的话似的。

“就这样定了，”就剩下我们俩时，玛格丽特继续说道，“你就不要再爱我了吧。”

“那我立刻就走。”

“有那么严重吗？”

我真是欲罢不能，我真的爱上她了。这种快乐而痛苦，纯洁而淫荡的感觉和她那容易使她神经质的疾病交织在一起，这一切让我明白，如果一开始我不能控制这个轻浮、健忘的女人，我就会永远失去她了。

“那，你说的是真的吗？”她问道。

“当然是真的。”

“那为什么你不早说呢？”

“没机会啊。”

“你在喜剧歌剧院跟我见面之后的第二天就可以找我啊。”

“我以为你应该不会欢迎我。”

“为什么？”

“因为我那天表现得极其傻。”

“这倒是。你从那时就爱上我了吗？”

“是啊。”

“那你回去还是照样吃饭吃得香，睡觉睡得着。这些所谓的爱情都是这么回事。”

“你错了，你知道那天晚上我离开喜剧歌剧院之后干了些什么？”

“不知道。”

“我在英国咖啡馆门口等你。后来跟着你和你的三个朋友乘的马车，一直到你家门口。看见你一个人回了家，我心里特别高兴。”

玛格丽特笑了起来。

“你笑什么？”

“没什么。”

“说吧，求你了，我觉得你在嘲笑我。”

“你不会生气吧？”

“我有什么权利生气。”

“我当时一个人回家是有原因的。”

“什么意思？”

“有个人在家等我。”

听到这儿，我心里简直比她给我一刀更难受，我起身，伸手示意要离开。“那再见了。”我对她说。

“我就知道你会生气的，”她说，“男人们总是急于知道让他们难受的事情。”

“但是，我向你保证，”我冷冷地说道，仿佛是想证明自己已经控制住了情绪，“我向你保证我没有生你的气，有人等你很自然，正如现在已经凌晨三点了，我也该走了。”

“是不是也有人在你家等你呢？”

“没有，可我必须走了。”

“那就再见啦。”

“你要打发我走吗？”

“根本没有的事。”

“为什么你对我这么不好？”

“我怎么对你不好了？”

“你说有人等你。”

“一想到你看到我一个人回家就高兴，我就想笑。”

“我们常常跟孩子一样天真快乐，要是扫人兴就太糟糕了，要是一直能保持这种快乐，才能使得到这种快乐的人更加快乐。”

“那你到底把我当成什么啦？我既不是黄花闺女也不是女公爵，而且今天我才认识你，我的行为跟你也没啥关系。假如有一天，我真做了你的情人，你也知道，除了你我还有别人，你现在就吃醋，那以后怎么办呢？即使有‘以后’，我也从来没有见过像你这样的人。”

“那是因为从来没有人像我这样爱你。”

“说实话，你真的爱我吗？”

“我想，我爱你到了无可附加的程度。”

“这是从——”

“从我看到你进苏茜商店买东西，大概是三年前。”

“你知道你讲得多好啊！那我怎么回报你的爱呢？”

“爱我一点点吧，”我说，心跳得几乎话都说不出来了，尽管玛格丽特似乎带着半开玩笑的口吻讲的话，不过我感觉她跟我一样有点不知所措了，我等待已久的时刻就要来临了。

“那公爵怎么办呢？”

“哪个公爵？”

“我的老醋罐子。”

“他不会知道的。”

“如果他知道了呢？”

“他会原谅你的。”

“噢，不会的，他会离开我的，那我怎么办呢？”

“你不也在为别人冒险啊。”

“你怎么知道？”

“你不是吩咐佣人今晚不要让任何人进来嘛。”

“这倒是，可他是个规矩的朋友。”

“既然你这么晚将他拒之门外，那你根本就不在乎他啊。”

“你也不用责备我啊，这不是为了接待你，你和你的朋友。”

慢慢地，我靠近了玛格丽特，轻轻地搂着她的腰，我感到她轻柔的身体轻轻投入了我的怀抱。

“你知道我多么爱你！”我低声说道。

“真的吗？”

“我发誓。”

“你要是答应听我的话，不发一言一语，不过问我，我可能会爱你的。”

“我都听你的！”

“我有言在先，我要自由，想做什么就做什么，我不需要跟你汇报我的生活细节。很久以来，我也想找个既年轻又听我话的情人，爱我并且信任我，接受我的爱可不要求任何权利。我从来就没找到一个这样的人。男人都一样，一旦得到他们难以得到的东西，时间久了之后，他们就不满足了，他们就会要求了解他们的情人的过去、现在，甚至未来的情况。他们了解情人之后，就想控制她，情人越被他们控制，他们就越是不满足。假如我现在决定找个情人的话，这个人必须具备三种一般人不具备的品质：他必须是完全信任我，听我的话，而且还要为人稳重。”

“行了，你想怎么着就怎么着吧。”

“咱们以后走着瞧吧。”

“我们什么时候再见面？”

“过些时候吧。”

“为什么呢？”

“因为，”玛格丽特从我怀里挣脱出去，从早上刚送来的一大束红色茶花上摘下了一朵，插到了我的衣服扣子里，说道，“协议总不能当天就执行吧。”

“那么我什么时候能再见你呢？”我一面问她一面将她搂进了怀里。

“等茶花变色的时候吧。”

“什么时候会变呢？”

“明晚十一点至十二点。满意了吧？”

“当然，还用问吗？！”

“不过不要告诉你朋友和普鲁登丝，任何人也别说。”

“我答应你。”

“吻我一下吧，咱们现在去餐厅。”

她的嘴唇凑近了我，然后捋了捋她的头发后就出门了，还一边哼着歌。而我呢，已经是飘飘欲仙了。

走进隔壁客厅时，她停下来低声对我说道：

“你一定觉得奇怪吧，我这么快就接受你了。想知道原因吗？”

“是因为，”她把我的手拉到了她的胸口，我能感觉到她剧烈的心跳。她接着说道，“因为我肯定活不长，我答应自己要在有限的时间内活得心满意足。”

“不要跟我说这些，求你了。”

“噢，放心吧，”她笑着继续说，“就算我活不长，但肯定比你爱我的时间要长。”

说完她便哼着歌走进了餐厅。

“娜妮娜呢？”她看到只有加斯顿和普鲁登丝在，便问道。

“在你房间打盹儿，等着伺候你睡觉呢。”

“可怜的家伙！我要累死她了！好吧，先生们，你们也该回家了。”

十分钟后，加斯顿和我离开了玛格丽特家。玛格丽特和我握手道别。普鲁登丝还留在她家。

“喂，”离开她家走到街上之后，加斯顿问我，“你觉得玛格丽特怎么样？”

“她就是个天使，我真的爱上她了。”

“我猜你就会，跟她表白了？”

“是的。”

“她说过相信你吗？”

“什么也没说。”

“她跟普鲁登丝不同。”

“普鲁登丝答应你了？”

“不仅仅是答应，亲爱的！你简直不会相信，她还不是一点点的疯，可怜的老杜维尔努瓦！”

第十一章

故事讲到这儿，阿尔芒停了下来。

“麻烦你帮我关上窗户，好吗？”他说，“我有点儿冷，想睡会儿觉。”

我关上了窗户。阿尔芒身体还很虚弱，脱下了他的大袍子，躺下了，头枕在枕头上歇了一会儿，好像一个由于讲话过多而精疲力竭的人，又像是一个对过去的痛苦难以释怀而心情郁闷的人。

“你可能讲得太久了，”我对他说，“我还是先告辞吧，改天你再接着讲。”

“你听烦了吗？”

“恰恰不是。”

“我还是继续讲吧。你要是留下我一个人，我也睡不着。”

我回家后——他接着讲，根本不用停下来思考，对他来说，一切就像昨天才发生一样，所有细节都历历在目——没有睡觉，而是开始回忆这一天所发生的事情。和玛格丽特的相遇、相知，还有她给我的许诺，一切都发生得那么快，那么的出乎意料，我仿佛觉得是在做梦一般。况且，一个男人提出那样的请求，而且她也答应第二天就兑现承诺，这对玛格丽特那样的女人来说也不是第一次了。

尽管我确实这么想过，可我未来的情人给我留下的第一印象简直太深了，始终无法忘怀，我依然执拗地认为她跟别的女人不同，我跟别的普通男人一样也有虚荣心，我相信她也同样地爱着我。

然而，我也看到了很多反例，我常常听说玛格丽特的感情就像一件物品，可贵可贱，随季节变化而变化。

但从另一方面来说，我也看到了玛格丽特在她家里是怎么拒绝那个她讨厌的年轻伯爵的，这又怎么和她的名声联系起来呢？你可以说她不喜欢那个年轻伯爵，况且她有老公爵供养，阔绰得很，找情人的话，她当然要找一个她喜欢的。可她为什么又不找富有、聪明而且长得还帅的加斯顿，而偏偏要找我这样第一次见面就表现得傻里傻气的呢？

确实，有时候几分钟内所发生的事情比一年的苦苦追求更管用。吃夜宵的时候，只有我关心她离开餐桌之后的情况。我跟在她身后，看她痛苦的样子我简直难以抑制内心的情感。我泪流满面，吻着她的手。所有这一切，加上她生病的那两个月，我每天去打听她的病情，这已经说明我跟其他男人不同，也许她心里想，对于一个用这种方式表达爱的人，她完全也可以照常处理，这种事儿她见得太多了，对她来说也无所谓。

所有这些假设都是有可能的，可无论她同意的原因是什么，但是可以肯定的是，她同意了。

现在，我和玛格丽特相爱了，我也没什么再多的要求了。尽管她只是个妓女，可我以前总以为——可能是我有点浪漫了——这是一次无望的爱情，以至于希望即将得到满足的时刻越近，我的心越是不安。那天我一夜未眠。

我简直不认识自己了，已经魂不守舍了。我一会儿觉得自己长得不够帅气，不够富有，不够高贵，不够资格占有这样一个女人；一会儿虚荣心又在作祟，想到即将得到她，不觉得意忘形；一会儿我又担心玛格丽特只是跟我逢场作戏，心想她可能几天就没了热情，那我最好还是别去赴约，给她写信说明我的担心和疑虑，然后再离开她。之后，我又产生了无尽的期待和从未有过的自信，我又做着几乎不可能实现的梦。心里想要治好她精神和身体上的伤，要和她厮守一生，她的爱将比所有少女纯洁无瑕的爱更让我幸福。

我简直无法跟你再形容当时我纷繁复杂的内心感受，心乱如麻。等天亮了，我才晕乎乎地睡着了，这些念头才慢慢消失。

一觉醒来，已经是下午两点，天气非常好。我从来没有觉得生活那么美好过，简直什么事都可能发生。夜晚的记忆还时不时地浮现在脑海里，不过已没有阴影和阻碍。那时我已经开始向往夜晚的来临，简直心花怒放，一种甜蜜的激情冲昏了我的头脑，我不再去想昨晚的事了，现在只想结果，只想跟玛格丽特见面的那一个小时。

我在家坐立不安。我的房间似乎太小了，无法盛下我的幸福感，我需要向大自然宣泄我的感受。

于是我出了门。走到昂坦大街，玛格丽特的马车在门口等她。后来我又走到香榭丽舍大街，看到所有人都觉得亲切，爱情让一切变得多美好啊！

我在玛尔利石像和圆形广场之间徘徊了一个小时，远远地就看到了玛格丽特的车，我猜是她的。在香榭丽舍大街的拐角处，她的马车停了下来，一个身材高大的年轻人离开他正谈话的人群，向玛格丽特走去。他们聊了一会儿，年轻人又回去继续和他朋友聊天。马车继续前进，我走近那群谈话的人，发现刚才和玛格丽特谈话的人是G伯爵，我曾经在玛格丽特家看到过他的雕像，听普鲁登丝说玛格丽特就是他一手捧红的。他就是前一晚玛格丽特没让进门的人，我想她停车是为了跟他解释原因的，希望她也能找到借口让他今晚别去了。

我不知道整个下午是怎么过的，散步啊，吸烟啊，聊天啊，可我说了什么，遇到了谁，到了晚上十点，全抛到脑后了。

我只记得回家的时候，打扮了三个小时，看手表和钟不下上百次，可遗憾的是，都走得很慢。

十点半一到，我想该出门啦。

我那时住在普罗旺斯街，沿着白山街，穿过林阴道，经过路易大帝街和马宏港街，最后终于到了昂坦大街。我先看看了玛格丽特的窗户，屋里开着灯，于是我按下了门铃。我问看门人戈蒂埃小姐是否在家，他告诉我说戈蒂埃小姐从来不会在十一点或者十一点一刻前回家。我又看了看表。我原以为自己已经走得很慢了，实际上我从普罗旺斯街走到玛格丽特家只花了五分钟！

于是我只好在这条街上徘徊。街上没有商店，此时已经是相当冷清。大约半小时后，玛格丽特回来了。她从马车上下来时，还不停在打量四周，似乎在找什么人。马车离开了，因为马厩和车棚不在她家里。玛格丽特正要按门铃，我走上前去跟她打招呼道：“晚上好！”

“噢，是你！”她说，似乎并不怎么高兴在门口遇见我。

“你昨天不是答应让我今天来看你吗？”

“噢，我差点忘了。”

她这一说，几乎扫荡了我一整天的幻想。不过，我慢慢开始习惯她的健忘了，所以我没有转身离开，要是以前，我肯定走了。于是我跟她进门，娜妮娜已经把门打开了。

“普鲁登丝来过了吗？”玛格丽特问道。

“没有，夫人。”

“去通知一声她要是回来务必先来我这儿，先把客厅的灯灭了吧，要是有人来，就说我还没回来，今晚也不回来了。”

她看起来心里有什么事，抑或是讨厌某个不受欢迎的客人，我也不知道该说什么好，玛格丽特向她卧室走去，我待着没动。

“来吧，”她说。

她摘下帽子和天鹅绒的外衣扔到了床上，然后瘫倒在壁炉旁的一张大扶手椅上，这只炉子她是吩咐一直烧到初夏的。她一面把玩着表链一面说道：

“呃，你有什么新闻跟我讲讲吗？”

“没有，不过我今晚不该来。”

“为什么？”

“因为你好像心情不太好，而且你大概是讨厌我了。”

“不是讨厌你，我只是不太舒服，这一天都挺难受的。我睡不着觉，而且头疼得厉害。”

“要不我先离开，你睡觉吧？”

“噢，你可以待在这儿，我要是睡觉，你在这儿也没什么。”

这时候有人按了门铃。

“这时候还会有谁来呀？”她很不耐烦地说道。

几分钟后，门铃又响了。

“看来没人去开门，只好我去了。”她起身对我说，“等我一会儿。”

她走出了房间，我听见她开大门的声音，我一直听着。

玛格丽特允许进来的人还没走进餐室便停下了脚步。他一开口我便听出了是N伯爵。

“你今晚觉得怎么样？”他问道。

“不好，”玛格丽特生硬地回答道。

“我打扰你了吧？”

“可能吧。”

“你怎么这样接待我呢！我哪儿得罪你了啊，亲爱的玛格丽特？”

“亲爱的朋友，你一点也没得罪我。我病了，我要睡觉，你要是离开的话，我会觉得你好的。每天晚上一回来不到五分钟，准能看到你来光临，这简直太难受了。你到底想怎么样？想要我作你的情人？可我已经讲过一百遍了，不行！你让我太不安了，你还是另谋高就吧。我今天再说一遍，也是最后一遍，我不想再看见你！行了吧！再见！娜妮娜回来了，她会送你的。晚安！”

玛格丽特没再讲话，也没再听那个年轻人嘀咕什么，玛格丽特回到房间，甩门关上了。娜妮娜紧接着进来了。

“你听着，”玛格丽特说，“这个疯子以后再来，你就说我不在，或者说我不想见他。看到这些人总来跟我提同一个要求我就厌烦。给钱他们就认为互不相欠了！如果那些想干我这行的女人知道是这么回事，她们肯定愿意去做女佣。可是，虚荣心啊，欲望啊，看到漂亮衣服，豪华的马车，亮闪闪的钻石，受不了诱惑啊！一个人相信她听到的，因为不管在这儿，还是别的地方，还是有信念这样的东西存在的，所以我们便一点点地出卖我们的灵魂、肉体和姿色。别人视我们如野兽一样可怕，鄙视我们下贱，可身边那些男人都是些贪得无厌的家伙！总有一天，我们在毁灭了别人又毁灭了自己之后，死得跟条狗似的。”

“好了，好了，夫人，你冷静冷静，”娜妮娜说，“你今晚太激动了。”

“这件衣服我穿着不舒服，”玛格丽特一面解开内衣扣子，一边说道，“给我拿浴衣吧。呃，普鲁登丝来了吗？”

“还没来，不过她一回来，我会叫人去叫她的。”

“又是一个，”玛格丽特一面脱下长裙穿上白色浴衣一面说道，“瞧瞧，又是一个，用得着我的时候，她就千方百计找我，现在连帮我个忙都不愿意。她知道我在等她的回音，她知道我很着急，可她却把我的事抛到九霄云外去了。”

“可能她被谁留住了。”

“去拿点潘趣吧。”

“这对你不好，夫人，”娜妮娜说道。

“这样更好。再拿些水果、馅饼或者鸡翅什么的，随便什么，拿点来就是了，快点，我饿了。”

我当时什么感受，我想不用讲你也应该猜得到的，是吧？

“一会儿和我吃夜宵吧，”她对我说道，“你先拿本书翻翻吧，我去趟梳妆室，一会儿就回来。”

她点燃了烛台上的一只蜡烛，打开床边的一扇门进去了。

我开始思索着这个可怜的姑娘的生活，出于对她的怜悯，我更加爱她了。我在房里徘徊了一会儿，一直在思索着，此时普鲁登丝来了。

“噢，你在这儿啊？”她说，“玛格丽特呢？”

“在她梳妆室。”

“我等她，嘿，你很讨她喜欢吧？”

“不知道。”

“她没告诉你？”

“没有。”

“你怎么会在这儿呢？”

“我来看看她。”

“半夜？”

“不可以吗？”

“笑话！”

“事实上，她好像很不乐意接待我。”

“她会很客气地接待你的。”

“你觉得她会？”

“我给她带来了一个好消息。”

“那还不错，那么她跟你谈起过我？”

“昨晚，应该说是今天凌晨，你和你的朋友离开之后，噢，你的朋友叫什么来着？是叫加斯顿吧？”

“是的，”我说道，想到加斯顿给我讲的话，看到普鲁登丝几乎都记不得他的名字，我不禁想笑。

“那个家伙很不错，他是干什么的呢？”

“他有两万五千法郎年金。”

“噢！是吗？！好吧，现在说说你的事情，玛格丽特跟我打听，你是什么人，干什么的，还有你以前的情妇都是些什么人，总之，像你这样的年轻人，她该问的都问了。我把知道的都跟她讲了，还夸了你一句，说你是个很有魅力的年轻人，就这些。”

“谢谢。那么现在请你告诉她昨晚跟你说的事吧。”

“她也没说什么，只是说要摆脱伯爵，不过今天真有一件事，我正是来告诉她的。”

此时，玛格丽特从梳妆室出来了，戴着一顶小睡帽，帽上还镶着黄丝带，内行人管这种装饰叫“甘兰式”缎结，看起来非常妩媚非常可爱动人。她光脚穿着一双缎面的拖鞋，还涂亮了指甲。

“呃，”她看着普鲁登丝说道，“见到公爵了吗？”

“见到了。”

“他跟你说什么了？”

“他给我——”

“多少？”

“六千。”

“你带来了吗？”

“带了。”

“他是不是不太高兴？”

“没有。”

“可怜的人啊！”

她讲这几个字的时候样子真是难以形容，玛格丽特接过六张一千法郎的钞票。

“来得正是时候，”她说，“亲爱的普鲁登丝，你需要钱吗？”

“你知道，我的孩子，过两天就是十五号了，你要是借给我三四百法郎，你就帮了我的大忙啦。”

“明天送过去吧，现在去换钱太晚了。”

“可别忘了呀。”

“放心吧，跟我们一块儿吃夜宵吗？”

“不了，查尔斯在家等我。”

“你还喜欢他？”

“迷上了，亲爱的！明天再见吧，再见了，阿尔芒。”

杜维尔努瓦夫人走了。

玛格丽特打开她多层柜的一个抽屉，将钞票扔了进去。

“能让我躺会儿吗？”她一面朝床走去，一面微笑着说道。

“不但允许，我还要求你躺下呢。”

于是她拉了被子便上了床。

“现在，”她说，“来我身边，咱们谈谈吧。”

普鲁登丝说得对：她的消息能让玛格丽特高兴起来。

“今晚我脾气不太好，能原谅我吗？”她拉着我的手问道。

“我怎么着都会原谅你的呀。”

“你爱我吗？”

“爱得发疯。”

“我脾气不好你也爱我吗？”

“你怎么样我都爱。”

“你发誓？”

“我发誓。”我低声说道。

娜妮娜进来了，拿来了几只盘子，一只凉鸡，一瓶波尔多葡萄酒和一些草莓。

“我没有调潘趣，”娜妮娜说道，“喝点波尔多更好。是吧，先生？”

“当然，”我回答道。刚才玛格丽特那几句话听得我心潮澎湃，我一直激动得凝视着她。

“好吧，”她说，“都放在小餐桌上，把小桌挪到床边来，我们自己随便吃，不用你在这儿帮忙了。你已经熬了三个晚上了，一定很困，去睡吧。我也不需要什么了。”

“要锁上门吗？”

“锁上吧！另外，明天中午以前别让任何人进来。”

第十二章

早上五点，天刚亮，天光透过窗帘朦朦胧胧地照亮了卧室。这时候，玛格丽特对我说：“很抱歉，我要赶你走了。我也没办法，老公爵每天早上都要来，他来的时候，他们会告诉他我还没醒，他可能会一直等到我醒来。”

我双手捧着玛格丽特的头，她蓬松零乱的头发披散着，我最后吻了吻她说：“我什么时候再来看你呢？”

“听着，”她说，“你拿壁炉上那把小金钥匙去开门，然后把钥匙搁回来，你就走吧。今天我会给你一封信，信上会告诉我的安排的，你自己明白的，你得听我的。”

“是的。可我能提一个请求吗？”

“什么请求？”

“把钥匙给我吧。”

“可我从来没给过任何人。”

“那你就给我吧，我发誓，我的爱跟别人不同。”

“好吧，那你留着吧，不过我要是不想让你进来，你拿着钥匙也没用哦。”

“怎么会呢？”

“门上有插销啊。”

“坏家伙！”

“我可以拆了插销。”

“你爱上我了？”

“不知道，可能是吧！你走吧，我想再睡会儿。”

我们拥抱了几分钟之后，我离开了她家。

街上冷冷清清的，偌大一个城市还在沉睡，外面空气清新，再过两个小时街上又恢复了平日的喧嚣与繁华。此时此刻，沉睡的巴黎仿佛全属于我，我挨个回忆了一下曾一度让我羡慕甚至嫉妒的人，可他们没有一个比我此时更幸福了。

被一个纯洁的姑娘所爱，并第一个向她揭示爱的神秘，的确是极大的幸福，也是世界上最简单不过的事情。赢得一颗从未萌动的心就像进入一座没有设防没有哨兵的城市。教育、亲情、责任感、家庭都是最敏捷的岗哨，可对于一个十六岁的少女来说，任何岗哨都不免受到她的欺骗。大自然第一次通过她爱的男人传达着爱的声音，这种爱是如此纯洁，却又是如此热烈。

少女越是相信善，就越容易失身，即使不是失身于情人，至少也是失身于爱情。因为一个人丧失了警惕也就丧失了力量，得到一个少女的爱算是一次成功，可对于任何一个二十五岁的年轻男子来说，这不是件难事。可这些少女是如何被监管的啊！修道院的墙不够高，母亲的锁不够紧，宗教戒律还不够持久，这些都不足以将这些迷人的小鸟关进连鲜花都放不进去的笼子里！她们多渴望外面的世界啊！她们该觉得外面的世界是多么精彩啊！当她们第一次隔着栅栏倾听爱情的秘密时该有多快乐啊！第一次撩开那神秘面纱一角的手该是多么幸福啊！

可真正要得到一个妓女的爱，那是极为难得的。她们的肉体已经腐蚀了她们的灵魂，她们的欲望已经灼伤了她们的心灵，放荡的生活已经使她们麻木不仁。她们早已听惯了别人的话，腻味了别人的各种伎俩。她们甚至出卖了本来期望的爱情，她们的爱情是职业的，为的是钱，不是出于本能。她们的防御比看管处女的母亲还精细，比修道院的墙筑得还高还坚实。她们把那些生意场外的爱情叫逢场作戏，因为对她们来说，这种爱情只是为她们消遣，只是她们自欺欺人的借口，只是她们的安慰罢了。就好像那些放高利贷的人，他们欺诈了别人一千，某一次借了二十法郎给一个快饿死的穷鬼，没有要他的利息，没逼着他写借据，就以为已经赎清了他们的罪孽。

当上帝允许一个妓女萌发爱情的时候，这种爱情起初似乎是对她的宽恕，可后来几乎又成了对她的惩罚。如果一个女人曾经过了一段放荡的生活，而今她突然萌发了一种深刻的、真诚的、不能自已的爱情，而且是这种她从来就不觉得可能发生的爱情，当她表白她的爱时，那个被她所爱的男人就成了她的主宰！于是这个男人便有权利洋洋得意地说：“你对待爱情跟对待买卖差不多嘛！”可这种权利对她来说是多么残忍啊！她们并不知道怎样来证明自己的真心。就像有一个寓言讲过：一个孩子总跟农民们作恶作剧，为了干扰田里的农活，总是撒谎大喊，“救命啊！狼来了！”有一天，狼真的来了，他再叫也没人相信他，后来被狼给吃了。那些可怜的妓女也是一样，她们平时说了太多的谎话，到她们真的爱上别人时，没人会相信她们，所以最终她们只有在懊悔之中被她们的爱情所吞噬。

这样便产生了那些真正忠于爱情，弃娼从良的伟大妓女，这些都是有很多例子的。

可是，假如这个激发她们产生赎罪的爱情的男人能足够宽厚，愿意接受这个女人的爱，并且不再计较她们的过去，总之就是以同样的爱去爱爱他的人时，他便享尽了世上一切的美好，他也永远不会再爱上别人了。

这并不是我在那天早上回家时的想法。这些可能是以后发生的事情的预感吧。虽然我爱玛格丽特，可我不知道有这样的结果。直到今天我才有这种感受。一切都结束了，这可能是已发生的事情所产生的很自然的结果吧。

接着讲我恋情的第一天的事吧。我们交往的第一天，清晨分别之后，我回到了家里，欣喜若狂。想到我之前想象的存在于我和玛格丽特之间的障碍已经消除，想到我已经得到了她，想到我在她心中有了一定的地位，想到兜里揣着她给我的门钥匙，想到我可以随时使用这把钥匙，我心里美滋滋的，特别满意生活，特别自豪，感谢上帝赐予我这一切！

有一天，一个年轻人穿过一条街，他遇见一个女人，看了那个女人一眼，什么也没说，转身离开了。他不认识那个女人，她有她的快乐，她的悲伤，她的爱情，跟他一点关系也没有。他不是为她而生的，或许，他跟她搭话，可她只会嘲笑他，就像玛格丽特曾经嘲笑我一样。几周过去了，几个月过去了，几年过去了，一切都来去得那么快，他们各走各的路，可一次偶然的机会将他们又凑到了一块儿。她成了他的情人，并且爱着他。怎么回事儿？为什么啊？天知道！总之，他们走到了一起，形影不离。他们相爱了，仿佛他们一直就彼此相识相知相爱，而不是从今天开始的。瞬间，所有的往事从这一对情人的脑子里都消失了。我们得承认这太奇妙了！

我呢，已经不记得那天晚上之前的我是怎么生活的。想到第一个晚上和玛格丽特的谈话，我整个人就飘飘欲仙了。要么是玛格丽特善于掩饰，要么是她对我一时情动，在和她第一次接吻时我便感受到了，可这种感觉往往都是来得快，去得也快啊！

我越想越觉得玛格丽特没有理由要骗我。我还想到女人有两种恋爱方式，而且这两种方式是有因果关系的：一种是真情，一种是感官。女人接受情人的时候通常感官是在先的，后来无意识地感受到了超越感官的精神恋爱的神秘，以后她会一直靠这种感觉活着。通常一个年轻的姑娘，起初认为婚姻是双方纯洁感情的结合，后来突然发现有了肉体的爱情，而这种爱情是产生于灵魂之中最纯洁的感情的。

想着想着我就睡着了。玛格丽特的来信唤醒了我，信上说：

“我的安排：今晚在沃德维尔剧院见面，请在第三幕休息时间来找我。”

我把信放进了抽屉，以便以后万一有什么事情好作为凭据，我常常这么做。

她没叫我白天去看她，我也不敢去。可我非常想在傍晚之前看看她，于是我去了香榭丽舍大街，在那儿我总能看到她的马车穿过大街，就像之前一样。

傍晚七点钟，我便到了沃德维尔，我从来没那么早到过剧院。包厢里已经坐满了人，只有一个空着，前台的包厢。第三幕开始时，我听见包厢有开门声，那时我的眼神始终没有离开过那个包厢，玛格丽特来了。她立刻走到前面，望了望大厅四周，看到我以后，用目光感谢了我的到来。

那天晚上，她太美了！她是为了我才打扮得那么漂亮吗？难道她如此爱我，以至于她觉得她打扮得越漂亮我会越感到幸福？我不知道，但是假如她真是这样想的话，她确实成功了，因为她出现在剧场时，所有的脑袋齐刷刷地朝一个方向看，引得全场一片哗然，连台上的演员都惊讶地看是谁在观众中制造了如此反响。

而我有这个女人卧室的钥匙，三四个小时之后她又将属于我一个人了！

人们都谴责那些为了戏子和妓女倾家荡产的人，可让我惊异的是，怎么没有人做出更为荒唐的事情来呢？像我这样，亲身经历那样的生活才知道，只有他们时常满足情人大大小小的虚荣心时，才能使他们的爱情更为牢固——姑且用“爱情”这个词吧，实在找不到更合适的字眼。

普鲁登丝坐在了玛格丽特的包厢，后面还坐着我认识的G伯爵。一看到他，我就感到浑身的寒意。

毫无疑问，玛格丽特肯定发现她包厢里面的男人让我不高兴了，因为她冲我笑了笑，然后背着伯爵似乎很认真地在看戏。到第三幕休息时间，她转过身去跟伯爵说了些什么，然后伯爵离开了包厢，于是她示意我过去。

“晚上好！”我刚一进去她便伸手打招呼道。

“晚上好！”我同时向玛格丽特和普鲁登丝打了个招呼。

“请坐。”

“我占了别人的座吧？G伯爵不回来了吗？”

“要回来。我叫他去买些蜜饯，我们正好可以聊一会儿。杜维尔努瓦夫人不是外人。”

“是啊，孩子们，”她说，“放心吧，我会保密的。”

“你今晚怎么啦？”玛格丽特起身走道包厢的后部，吻了吻我的额头，问道。

“我有点不舒服。”

“你该去睡会儿觉，”她说，她那玲珑剔透的脸蛋儿跟她那俏皮劲儿特别相称。

“去哪儿睡？”

“你家呀。”

“你知道我自己在家是睡不着的。”

“那好，那你就别不高兴有别的男人在我旁边。”

“不是因为这个。”

“就是！我知道！你错了，不说这个了。一会儿戏演完之后，你和普鲁登丝先去她家，一直等到我叫你。明白了吗？”

“明白了。”

难道我不服从吗？

“你还爱我吗？”

“你说呢？”

“还想着我吗？”

“整天都想。”

“你知道我担心什么吗？我怕我真的爱上你了？你问普鲁登丝吧。”

“噢！”普鲁登丝大声道，“真是太神奇了！”

“你现在得回自己座位上去了，伯爵要回来了，没必要让他在这儿碰到你。”

“而且看到他你心里也不痛快。”

“不是的。你要是早跟我说今晚要来沃德维尔剧院看戏，我也会像他一样给你提前买好包厢的票的。”

“不幸的是，我没跟他说他就送来了，还要我跟他一起来。你也知道我没法拒绝他。我能做的就是给你写信告诉你我在哪儿，这样你能见到我，因为我也想见你。既然你是以这种方式感谢我的，那我就当买个教训了。”

“我错了，原谅我吧。”

“太好了，那么现在就乖乖地回去吧，另外，别再吃醋了啊。”

她又吻了我一下，于是我离开了包厢，后来我在走廊里碰到了G伯爵。

毕竟G伯爵出现在玛格丽特的包厢并不是什么稀奇的事儿，他曾经是她的情人，给她送一张包厢的票，陪她看戏，这本来也是再平常不过的事了。既然我有玛格丽特这样的情人，那我就应该习惯她的生活。

可这一个晚上我都不太舒服。看到普鲁登丝、玛格丽特和G伯爵一起上了戏院门口等候他们的马车之后，我闷闷不乐地离开了剧院。

不过，一刻钟之后我便到了普鲁登丝家，她也刚进门。

第十三章

“你可真快啊，几乎跟我们同时！”普鲁登丝对我说道。

“是啊，”我随口问道，“玛格丽特呢？”

“在家。”

“一个人吗？”

“和G伯爵。”

我在大厅里徘徊。

“嗳，你怎么啦？”

“你觉得我在这儿等着G伯爵从玛格丽特家里出来很有趣，是吧？”

“你太不讲理了。难道你不知道玛格丽特不能不见G伯爵？G伯爵跟她来往已经很久了，他一直给她钱，现在也给。玛格丽特每年要花十多万法郎，她已经是债台高筑了。她要什么公爵都会给她，可她不敢要公爵负担她全部的开销啊，伯爵每年至少给她一万法郎。玛格丽特非常喜欢你，亲爱的，但是为了你们双方的利益，你别太当真。你一年就七八千法郎远不够她挥霍的，连她马车的维修费都不够，你能怎么办呢？你就把她当作是个长得漂亮、聪明、可爱的姑娘，给她做一两个月的情人，给她送点鲜花、蜜饯，给她买些戏院包厢的票，其他你就甭管了，千万别争风吃醋，做出傻事来。你知道是在跟什么人打交道，玛格丽特又不是什么良家女子。她喜欢你，你也喜欢她，不用想别的。看见你这么动情，我都觉得惊讶！你有巴黎最漂亮的女人作情人，她满身戴着钻石在富丽堂皇的房子里接待你，只要你愿意，她可以不花你一分钱，你还不满意吗？亲爱的，你要的太多了！”

“你说得对，可是我控制不住自己啊，想到那个人是她的情人，我就觉得很难受。”

“首先，”普鲁登丝回答说，“他还是她的情人吗？玛格丽特只是还用得着他，别的没什么。两天以来，玛格丽特都没让他进门，他今天早上又来了——她只好接受他买的票，让他陪着一起去看戏。完了之后他送她回家，然后去她家坐一会儿。所有这一切，我觉得再正常不过了。再说，你不也接受公爵了吗？”

“是啊，可公爵是个老头儿呀，我肯定玛格丽特不会是他的情人。再说，包容一个这样的关系已经很不错了，两个我实在受不了。这种简直就是算计，同意这样做的男人，即使是出于爱，也无异于下层有些人默许家人做这种勾当赚钱一样。”

“噢，亲爱的，你太死脑筋了吧！我见过多少高贵的、富有的、潇洒的男人也是那样啊！况且干这种事情又不费什么劲儿，也没什么羞耻的，没什么大不了的，每天都能见到这样的事。而且巴黎的妓女没有三四个情人怎么能维持她们的生活呢？像玛格丽特那样的花费，不管有多大家业，不可能哪一个人能负担得了的。一年五十万法郎在法国算是高收入了吧，可亲爱的，对这样的家庭来说，这个收入还不够呢，因为有这样收入的男人，总有一座豪宅吧，也有自己的马匹吧，也还有仆人、马车吧，他还得去打打猎吧，还得应酬交际吧。这种人通常是已婚的吧，他有自己的孩子，还要跑马，还要赌钱，还要旅行等等，他什么不做呢？这一切是他主要的生活，一旦改变，就会有流言蜚语，别人会以为他是不是破产了。说了这么多，就想告诉你，像这样一个年收入五十万的人每年花在一个女人身上的钱最多四五万法郎，这已经算多的了，而这个女人其余的花销就需要别的情人来补贴。玛格丽特还算不错了，天上掉了个馅儿饼，奇迹般地遇到了一个千万富翁，妻子和女儿都死了，只有几个侄子，侄子本身就很富有。玛格丽特要什么老头就给什么，根本用不着还。可她要的一年也不能超过七万法郎，我想，虽然他有钱，也爱她，可要多了也断然不会给她的。

“在巴黎，那些一年只有两三万收入的年轻人，那些收入只够应付他们自己那个圈子的生活。他们自己非常清楚，要是有玛格丽特那样的情人，他们的钱还不够替她支付房租和仆人工资的，他们不会对她说什么的，只是假装什么也不知道，玩够了，就拍拍屁股走人。他们要是爱慕虚荣，想替她负担一切开销，那肯定破产，最后跟个傻子似的，在巴黎欠下十万法郎的债，自己去非洲自杀。你觉得这样的女人会感激他么？根本不会！她还反倒会说她为他们牺牲了多少，在一起的时候还贴了不少钱。你觉得很震惊，是吧？可我告诉你，都是真的。你是个很不错的小伙子，我非常喜欢你。我跟这些女人生活了二十年，我还不了解她们，我不想看见你把一个漂亮姑娘的逢场作戏太当真。

“再说，”普鲁登丝继续说道，“假如公爵或者伯爵发现你和她有私情，要她在你和他之间作出选择，玛格丽特因为爱你而放弃他们，那她的牺牲也太大了，这是毋庸置疑的。你也能为她作出同样的牺牲吗？你什么时候玩腻了，谁来弥补她的损失？什么也不会！你只会将她和她的生活隔断，她本来的生活里有财富，有她的前途，可她却把最美好的岁月给了你，而她自己最后却被抛弃。倘若你是一个普通男人，你在意她的过去，告诉她你跟她其他情人一样，你也会离开她，你只会使她更悲惨。抑或你是个有良心的人，你觉得有责任把她留在身边，这样又会给你带来无法避免的麻烦。毕竟对于一个年轻人来说，有个情人还可以原谅的，可到了中年，情况就变了，再这样下去就会阻碍自己的事业了。家人不允许，你的事业心也不允许你的情人存在。相信我，我的朋友，她是什么样的人你就怎么待她，不要去欠一个妓女的情分，无论什么，也别去欠。”

普鲁登丝辩解得很有道理，简直出乎我的意料。我无言以对，只觉得她说得对，我握着她的手，感谢她对我的忠告。

“算了，算了，”她说道，“抛开那些愚蠢的大道理吧，开开心心生活。生活是美好的，亲爱的，就看你有什么样的心态了。你去问问你朋友加斯顿吧，我对爱情的看法就是受他影响的。除非你是个傻瓜，否则你只需要想隔壁有个漂亮的姑娘在很不耐烦地等着身边的男人赶紧离开，她在想你，今晚她要和你一起过，她爱你，我确信。跟我来窗户这边吧，咱们看看伯爵走了没，他不会待太久的。”

普鲁登丝打开窗户，我们并排靠阳台站着。她望着外面的行人，而我却陷入沉思。她的话在我脑子里挥之不去，心里乱作一团。我不得不承认她说得很对，可我对玛格丽特的爱是真的，真的很难去实践她的这些道理，我独自唉声叹气，普鲁登丝听见了，便转过身来瞧了我一眼，耸了耸肩膀，活像一个医生对病人失去了信心。

“一个人怎么能很快认识到生命的短暂啊！”我心想，“我才认识玛格丽特两天，她也只是昨天才开始做我的情人，可她已经如此深深地铭刻在我的脑海里，我的心里，甚至我的生命里，以至于G伯爵的到来让我心烦。”

伯爵终于出来了，坐上马车离开了。普鲁登丝关掉窗户。这时，玛格丽特便叫我们了：

“快点过来吧，”她说，“他们正在收拾桌子，我们一起吃夜宵吧。”

我到了她家，玛格丽特冲我跑了过来，搂住我的脖子，狠狠地吻我。

“我们还闹别扭吗？”她问我。

“没事了，都过去了。”普鲁登丝回答道，“我跟他讲了半天道理，他觉得我说得对。”

“那太好了。”

我情不自禁地朝床上望去，没有凌乱的迹象。玛格丽特穿着她的白色裙子，我们坐到了桌旁准备吃夜宵。

玛格丽特是个妩媚、温柔、多情的姑娘，我随时都在迫使我自己不要去想别的，我得承认，我没有权利再对她有什么要求。任何男人坐在我这个位置都会感到非常高兴的，就像维吉尔笔下的牧羊人，我只能享受天神或者说是女神赐给我的快乐。

我努力实践着普鲁登丝的理论，强迫自己跟她们一样快乐，她们很自然，可我却需要努力一番，我那神经兮兮的笑容，她们根本没发现是怎么回事，我简直笑起来比哭还难看。

夜宵吃完了，我和玛格丽特单独待着。她跟平常一样，坐到了火炉前的地毯上，凝视着炉火，很忧郁的样子。她在想什么呢？我猜不到。我呢，一直看着她，心里充满了爱恋和恐惧，因为我想到了将要为她忍受所有的痛苦。

“你知道我在想什么吗？”

“不知道。”

“我有个计划。”

“什么计划？”

“我还不能说，不过我可以告诉你结果。那就是我一个月之后便可以自由了，我的债还清了，我们可以离开这儿，去乡下度过夏天。”

“不能说说你的办法？”

“不能。只要你像我爱你一样爱着我，一切都会成功的。”

“这是你自己想出来的计划？”

“是的。”

“你自己实施这个计划吗？”

“我一个人烦就行了，”玛格丽特说，脸上带着笑容，我永远也忘不了，“享受好处我们俩一起来。”

听到她说“好处”两个字，我想到了玛侬·蕾丝科和德格里串通一气，欺诈B先生的钱财。

我起身，生硬地回答道：

“亲爱的玛格丽特，请允许我只享受我自己想出办法并通过自己努力挣来的好处。”

“你什么意思？”

“我是说我怀疑G伯爵是不是跟你这个妙计有什么关联，要是这样，我不能接受这个好处，更不想承担这个责任。”

“你真是个孩子！我以为你爱我呢，看来我错了，那好吧。”

她起身去打开了钢琴，开始弹那首《邀舞曲》，一直弹到了她总弹不下去的那段。不知道她是习惯弹这首呢，还是提醒我回忆我们第一次见面。而我却随着琴声开始回忆起了往事，于是不知不觉地便走到了她身旁，捧着她的脸，便开始吻她。“你会原谅我吗？”我问她。

“我会的。”她回答道，“可我们这才第二天，我就得原谅你什么的了，那你以后怎么能遵守什么都听我的这样的诺言呢？”

“那我怎么办呢，玛格丽特？我太爱你了，我嫉妒你任何一个想法，你刚才说去乡下避暑，我非常非常高兴，可你神神秘秘的计划却让我很难过。”

“看你，冷静点嘛。”她一面握着我的手，一面满带微笑地说道，她笑得很迷人，我简直无法抗拒，“你爱我，是吧？你乐意陪我去乡下过两三个月，是吧？我也一样，很高兴去乡下清清静静地过一阵，这对我的身体也有好处。要离开巴黎这么长时间，我需要安排一下吧，像我这样的女人，事情要复杂得多。好吧，我总算想出一个办法来协调好这一切，我的钱财，我的爱情。是的，对你的爱，别笑我。我在傻傻地爱着你呢！可你却摆起架子来说大话。简直像个孩子！比孩子还孩子！你只需要记住，我爱你！别乱想，答应吗？”

“我完全听你的，你知道的。”

“那我们在不到一个月之后就可以去乡下了，去河边散步，喝鲜牛奶。玛格丽特·戈蒂埃说这样的话，你觉得奇怪吧？可我确实这么想的，我的朋友。巴黎的生活似乎让我很快乐，可是一旦没了激情，我就觉得很烦，所以我突然想去一个相对清净点的地方，一个能让我回忆起童年时代的地方。无论什么人都有自己的童年！不过，别吓着了，我不会跟你说我是一个退役上校的女儿，或者说是在圣登尼斯长大的。我就是乡下一个穷人家的孩子，六年前我连自己的名字都不会写。这样你放心点了，是吧？那我为什么第一次跟你说要和你一起分享我的快乐呢？因为我感觉到了你确实是爱我，不是为了自己才爱我的，而其他男人，嘴巴上说爱我，其实心里是爱自己。

“我以前常常去乡下，可从来不是我自己想去。可这一次小小的幸福就靠你了；别闹别扭，让我好好享受吧。你可以这么想：她活不久了，她第一次要求我做一件如此容易的事我就不答应她，以后岂不是要后悔？”

我还说什么呢，再想到和她度过的第一个晚上，难道还不期望第二次的到来？

一个小时后，玛格丽特已经躺在了我的怀里，此时就算她要我去犯罪我也会去的。

早上六点，我离开了她，离开她之前，我问她：“今晚呢？”她热烈地吻着我，可什么也没说。

白天，我收到了她的一个便条，上面是这样写的：

“亲爱的孩子，我有点不舒服，医生嘱咐我静养。我今晚要早点睡觉，不能见你了。不过，为了补偿你，明天十二点我等你。我爱你。”

我第一个反应就是：她在骗我！

一阵冷汗湿了我的额头，我已经深深地爱上了这个女人，我的怀疑让我心神不宁。可是，我又预料到了跟玛格丽特在一起的话，每天都可能发生这样的事情。这种事情在我跟别的情人的时候也经常出现，可我几乎没怎么放在心上。可为什么玛格丽特对我却有如此大的吸引力呢？

这时候，我想，我有她房门的钥匙，我为何不能像平常一样去看她呢？这样我就能知道真相，如果我发现有别的男人在，我会当场给他一耳光。

后来我走到了香榭丽舍大街。我在那儿等了四个小时，她也没出现。晚上，我去所有她常去的戏院找过她，她也没去。

晚上十一点钟，我去了昂坦大街。玛格丽特卧室的灯还没开，我不管怎样，我按下了门铃。看门的人问我要去哪儿。

“去戈蒂埃家。”我说。

“她还没回来。”

“我上去等她。”

“家里没人啊。”

显然，我是能进去的，我有钥匙。可又害怕闹出笑话，所以我还是离开了。我没有回家，也不愿意离开那条街，我一直盯着玛格丽特的卧室。似乎想发现点什么，或者至少证实一下我的猜疑。

到了半夜，我熟悉的马车停在了九号门口，G伯爵下车了，打发了马车之后进了她家。那会儿，我希望他得到和我一样的答案说玛格丽特不在家，希望他跟我一样从她家出来，我一直等啊等，到了凌晨四点，我还在等。

过去的三周，我深深地受到了伤害，可跟那一晚比起来，之前根本算不了什么。

第十四章

回到家里，我像个孩子似的哭得很伤心。凡是像我一样被女人欺骗过一次的男人就会知道我当时心里是多么痛苦。

我对自己说，我必须痛下决心结束这段恼人的爱情。于是我躁动不安地等待着天亮之后去订火车票，回我父亲和妹妹那儿去。他们俩对我的爱至少是真的，也绝不会背叛我。

然而，我又不想在玛格丽特不知道原因的情况下离开，一个男人只有和她情断义绝之后才会一声不吭就离开她的。我反反复复思考应该怎么写这封信。我的这个情人跟别的女人没两样，我以前太浪漫了，她简直把我当小学生看，她耍心眼儿欺骗我，简直对我是极大的侮辱，我的自尊心受到了极大的伤害。我必须离开这个女人，不能让她在伤害了我之后还洋洋得意。下面是我饱含愤怒的泪水、忍受极大的悲伤，并且用极其端正的笔墨写给她的信：

“亲爱的玛格丽特：我希望你昨天身体不适不会影响你的健康。昨晚十一点，我去你家问过你的消息，门房告诉我说你还没回去。G伯爵比我幸运，他在我离开后不久便进了家门，他一直在你那儿待到凌晨四点。

“请原谅我让你痛苦了一阵，不过我保证决不会忘记你曾经赐给我的幸福时光的。

“今天我本应该去看望你，可我打算回我父亲那儿了。

“再见了，亲爱的玛格丽特，我不能像富翁那样地爱你，你希望我像穷光蛋一样爱你，可我又不是那么穷。那咱们还是都忘了对方吧，对你来说，忘记一定是无所谓的事情，可对我来说却是无法实现的幸福。

“我把钥匙还给你，我还没用过，你要是经常像昨天一样不舒服的话，它会对你有用的。”

你看看，我不狠狠地嘲笑讽刺她一番是没法结束这封信的，这就说明我还依然爱着她呀。

我把这封信看了一遍又一遍，想到这封信会让她难受，我心里还好受点。我尽力装作不在乎的样子，我的仆人八点钟走进我房间时，我叫他立刻送信过去。

“要等回信吗？”约瑟夫——我的仆人，跟所有的仆人一样，都叫约瑟夫——问我道。

“如果他们问你是否要等回信，你就说你什么也不知道，但你要等着。”

其实我内心是希望她给我回信的，可怜的又心软的人啊！

约瑟夫去送信的那段时间，我是极其地不安。我想起了玛格丽特如何委身于我，不禁自问我有什么权利写那封无礼的信给她，她可以回答不是G伯爵欺骗了我，而是我欺骗了G伯爵，情人多的女人都是这么一套辩解模式。一会儿我又想起她的承诺，努力使自己相信信里没有什么过激的语言来惩罚一个玩弄我感情的女人。于是我又想，还是不该给她写信，应该白天去看她，看到她掉眼泪，我会觉得心里更痛快。最后，我在想她会怎么给我回信，我已经准备好相信她给出的任何借口。

约瑟夫回来了。

“怎么样？”我问他。

“先生，”他说，“夫人还在睡觉，还没醒，不过她一拉铃叫人，他们就会把信给她，有回信的话，他们会有人送过来的。”

她还在睡觉！

有很多次我都想去派人去把信取回来，可我总想：“可能她已经看到了，我要取回来的话，就显得我似乎后悔了。”

越是接近她回信的时刻，我越是后悔写那封信。钟敲响了，十点，十一点，十二点。到了十二点，我几乎想装作什么事情也没发生一样去赴约了，最后，我还是没有挣脱压得我几乎喘不过气来的束缚。

像有所等待的人们一样，我也开始迷信地认为，也许我出去转转，回来就会看到她的回信了。于是我便借口说出去吃午饭了。

我习惯在福瓦咖啡馆用餐，就在大街的拐角处，可今天我却宁愿穿过昂坦大街，走到王宫大街去吃饭。一路上，每次我看见远处走来一个女人，我都以为是娜妮娜给我送回信来了。我经过昂坦大街，却没碰到一个送信的人。于是我到了王宫大街，进了维利餐厅，服务员给我拿了些吃的，或者说他上了些他认为不错的，因为我什么也没吃。我不由自主地时不时地看着墙上的钟。之后我回到家里，深信我会收到玛格丽特的回信。

门房什么也没收到，可我还是希望信在仆人手里，他说在我出门之后没见任何人来过。

如果玛格丽特要给我回信，她早就应该回了。

于是我开始懊悔不该写那些讽刺的话，我应该保持沉默，这样她肯定会感到不安，于是自己会来找我的。因为我们事先约好十二点见面，她肯定会问我为什么没去，这时我再告诉她原因。这样一来，她没办法，就只好自己辩解，而且我要的也是她的辩解。我此时已经想明白，不管她找什么样的理由，我都会原谅她的，只要能见到她，我什么都愿意。

最后，我以为她会亲自来找我，可一个小时一个小时过去了，也没见她的影子。

玛格丽特的确和别的女人不同，很少有女人像她那样收到我那样措辞的信而无动于衷的。

下午五点钟，我匆匆赶到香榭丽舍大街。“如果在那儿遇见她，”我想，“我会装出满不在乎的样子，这样她就相信我不再想她了。”

走到王宫大街的拐角处，我看见她乘着马车经过，马车太快，我的脸一下子刷白，我不知道她是否注意到了我的样子，而我呢，神色慌张，除了马车什么也没看到。

我不再在香榭丽舍大街散步了。我去看戏院的广告，因为在戏院还可能见到她。因为王宫剧院有个首演，玛格丽特肯定会去看。七点钟，我到了戏院。所有的包厢都坐满了人，就玛格丽特没来。于是我离开王宫戏院，去她常去的那些戏院挨家看了看，有沃德维尔剧院、瓦丽爱特剧院还有喜剧歌剧院，她都没在。

走在大街上，我的脑子蹦出了一连串虚荣的想法：要么是我的信让她伤心了，连戏都不想看了？要么是她害怕碰见我，所以有意躲避，免得解释？这时，我遇见了加斯顿，他问我刚去哪儿了。

“王宫剧院。”

“我刚在歌剧院，”他说，“我还以为你也在那儿呢。”

“为什么？”

“因为玛格丽特在。”

“她在那儿吗？”

“在。”

“她一个人吗？”

“不是，还有一个女人。”

“就她俩？”

“G伯爵去她包厢待了一会儿，不过她后来跟老公爵走了。我以为你也会去的，我旁边有个座位一直空着，我还以为是你订的呢。”

“为什么玛格丽特在那儿，我就要去呢？”

“你是她情人嘛。”

“谁告诉你的？”

“普鲁登丝啊，我昨天见到她了。祝贺你，亲爱的朋友。她很漂亮，也很迷人，不是每个人都有这样的机会的，别让她跑了啊，跟她做情人，你会很有面子的。”

加斯顿的反应足以说明我的敏感是多么荒唐可笑！要是昨天碰到他讲这些话，也许我就不会写那封愚蠢的信。

我想立刻就去普鲁登丝家，请她告诉玛格丽特我想跟她谈谈，可我又担心她会报复我，拒绝见我。于是我又穿过昂坦大街回了家。我又问门房是否有我的信，没有！我躺在床上想：她是想看看我会不会有新动作？是不是想收回今天的信？可我今天没再给她写信，她明天会不会写信给我呢？

我从来没有像那天晚上那么自责过。那天晚上，我孤零零一个人躺在床上，忐忑不安，一颗嫉妒的心被黑夜无情地吞噬着，孤枕难眠。想想要是没我那封信，我现在正在玛格丽特的温柔乡里听着她绵绵细语呢，可惜我就听过两次。想起她的话，在这孤寂的黑夜里，我的两耳都热得发烫。

此时此刻，最可怕的是，我的判断告诉我是我错了，实际上，一切都表明玛格丽特是爱我的。第一，她提议跟我去乡下避暑；第二，可以肯定的是，她没有任何理由要做我的情人，我的收入远不足负担她的开销，甚至连逢场作戏都不够。因此，她希望从我身上能得到真诚的情感，她平常的所谓爱情都是为了钱的，我的真心能让她心里有一个依靠。结果我第二天就让她的希望破灭了，她两个夜晚的情义换来的却是无情的讽刺。我的行为不但荒谬，而且还相当粗俗无礼。我又没有替她买过任何单，我有什么权利去责备她呢？两天就跑了回来，这简直不就像一个爱情寄生虫，生怕吃完饭别人要他买单么？什么人啊！我才认识玛格丽特三十六小时，做她的情人才二十四小时，我不但没有感激她赐予我的一切，而且还想独占她，强迫她一下子斩断今后维持生计需要的一切联系。我有什么理由责备她呢？没有！她写信欺骗我说她不舒服，其实她完全可以像某些直截了当的女人那样非常粗鲁地告诉我说她要接待一个情人，可她没有这么做。我没有相信她的话；除了昂坦大街，没有到别的地方去溜达，没有跟朋友去度过那个晚上，第二天没有去赴约，反而当起了奥塞罗去监视她，以为不见她就是在惩罚她。其实，恰恰相反，分手对她来说才值得高兴呢，她应该觉得我愚蠢到极点，她的沉默根本不是怨恨，而是对我的鄙视。

我也许应该送玛格丽特一个礼物，就像送别的妓女一样，让她知道我也是个大方之人，这样再跟她提分手比较合适，可我不想让我们的爱情被金钱所腐蚀，即使不是腐蚀了她对我的爱，至少也是玷污了我对她的爱。再说，这样的爱情是如此纯洁，容不下任何沙砾，岂是一个礼物——无论多贵重——能偿还她赐予我的幸福与快乐——无论这种幸福与快乐是多么短暂？！

这些就是我一晚上没睡觉的所有想法，我时刻准备着去告诉玛格丽特。直到天亮我都没睡着，我发烧了，满脑子都是玛格丽特。

你也知道，我这时候必须作出决定，要么跟她一刀两断，要么发誓不再猜疑她，如果她还愿意见我，我就跟她和好如初。可你也知道，人在做决定之前肯定是畏前畏后的。我在家里也待不住，又不敢去找她，只好想办法接近她，成功的话，我可以说事发偶然。

上午九点钟，我立刻赶到普鲁登丝家，她问我有什么事。我不敢直接告诉她原因，只是说我父亲住在C城，早上去订个去C城的公共马车的座位。

“你运气真好，”她说，“这么好的天气，你离开巴黎。”

我望了望普鲁登丝，寻思着她是不是在嘲笑我，可她一脸严肃，不像在跟我开玩笑。

“你打算去跟玛格丽特告别吗？”她还是一本正经地问道。

“不。”

“这样很好。”

“你觉得这样好？”

“当然了。你都跟她分手了，为什么还要见她？”

“你知道我们分手了？”

“她给我看你的信了。”

“她说什么了？”

“她说：‘亲爱的普鲁登丝，你那宝贝儿太不礼貌了，这些话只能想想罢了，还写出来。’”

“她说话的语气怎么样？”

“大笑着说得，她还说，‘他只在我家里吃过两次夜宵，还没上门道过谢呢。’”

这就是我的信和我的嫉妒心产生的结果，我在感情方面的自私简直显得我太卑微了！

“那昨晚她在干什么呢？”

“去大歌剧院了。”

“我知道，后来呢？”

“她在家里吃的夜宵。”

“她一个人吗？”

“我想，应该是和G伯爵吧。”

这么说来我的信没有影响她的生活。遇到这种情况，有些人总会跟你说：“不要再去想这种女人了，她根本就不在乎你。”

我挤出点笑容接着说：“那太好了，她没难过就好。”

“她为什么要难过呢？你干了你想干的事儿，你比她更理智，再说她真的爱你，她张口就提起你，她是什么蠢事都干得出来的。”

“那她为什么不给我回信呢，你说她爱我？”

“因为她知道爱你是错误的。女人嘛，常常允许你对她们不忠，可绝不允许你伤害她们的自尊。你做了她两天情人就离开她，不管什么原因，总是伤她自尊的。我了解玛格丽特，她死也不会给你回信的。”

“那我该怎么办呢？”

“没办法。她会忘掉你的，你也会忘掉她，互不相欠，谁也别怨谁。”

“我要是写信求她原谅呢？”

“别那么做，她会原谅你的。”

我激动得差点冲过去搂住普鲁登丝的脖子。

一刻钟之后，我回到家里，开始给玛格丽特写信。

“有个人，后悔昨天写那封信了，假如你，不原谅他，他明天，只好离开巴黎，他想知道，什么时候，能在你面前忏悔他的罪过。

“他，什么时候可以单独和你见面呢？你知道啊，忏悔的时候，旁边是不允许有旁人的啊。”

我将这封抒情诗般的信叠好，交给约瑟夫送过去，交到玛格丽特手里，她回答说过一会儿就回信。

我一直没有出门，只是匆匆赶出去吃了个饭，直到晚上十一点还没收到她的回信。我决定不再等待，决定明天就动身。下决心离开巴黎之后，我肯定是睡不着了，只好开始收拾行礼。

第十五章

为了我出门，我和约瑟夫整整忙活了一个小时。这时候，有人猛按我家门铃。

“要我去开门吗？”约瑟夫问道。

“去吧，”我说，心里寻思着这时候谁会来呢，不敢相信是玛格丽特。

“先生，”约瑟夫回来对我说，“是两位女士。”

“是我们，阿尔芒，”一个声音叫道，我听出了是普鲁登丝。

我走出卧室。普鲁登丝站着，四下里打量着我的客厅，玛格丽特正坐在沙发上，好像有心事。我走上前去，跪下去握住她的手，激动万分地对她说，“原谅我吧。”

她吻了吻我的额头，说道：

“这是第三次原谅你了啊。”

“我原本明天就走了。”

“我怎么会改变你的决定呢？我不是来阻止你离开巴黎的，我来是因为白天没时间给你回信，我也不希望你认为我还在为上次的事生气。普鲁登丝还不让我来呢，她说我一来，你可能就走不了了。”

“你来了我走不了？玛格丽特！怎么会呢？”

“那你家里还有个女人吧，”普鲁登丝说，“她要是看到又来了两个可不是闹着玩的。”

普鲁登丝说话的时候，玛格丽特一直注视着我。

“我亲爱的普鲁登丝，”我回答道，“你简直在胡说！”

“你家里布置得不错！”普鲁登丝接着说，“能看看你的卧室吗？”

“当然。”

普鲁登丝进了卧室。她倒不是主要参观我的卧室，而是要掩饰她刚才的失言，而且让我和玛格丽特单独待会儿。

“你为什么要带普鲁登丝来？”

“她陪我看戏，再说，离开这儿也需要有人陪我回家。”

“不是有我吗？”

“是啊，可是，我不想麻烦你，另外，你要是送我回家，你就会想跟我上楼，而我又不能让你上去，所以我不希望你走的时候还埋怨我拒绝你。”

“为什么不能让我上去呢？”

“因为有人监视我，稍有不慎，后果就会非常严重。”

“只是这个原因吗？”

“如果还有，我会直说的，我们之间没有任何秘密了。”

“嗨，玛格丽特，我不跟你绕弯子了，直接说吧，说实话，你还爱我一点点吗？”

“爱极了！”

“那你为什么欺骗我？”

“亲爱的，如果我是公爵夫人什么的，一年有两万法郎的年金，我做了你的情人，又有了别人，你有权利责问我。可我是玛格丽特·戈蒂埃，我还有四万法郎的债，我自己一分钱也没有，每年还要花掉十几万法郎，所以你根本没必要问这个问题，我回答你也是白费。”

“你说得对，”我的头沉在玛格丽特的膝盖上说道，“可我真得太爱你了啊。”

“好吧，我的朋友，你要么少爱我一点，要么多理解我一点，你的信让我很伤心。如果我不受任何束缚，首先我前天就不会接待伯爵，即使接待了，我也会请求你的原谅，就像你刚才求我一样，除了你，我以后也不会再有别的情人了。有一阵儿，我幻想着能过上六个月的幸福生活，可你又不愿意，还坚持要知道我的计划。天啦，这还用问吗？猜也能猜到！为了计划成功，我作出的牺牲远非你能想象。我本来可以跟你说，我需要两万法郎，你现在爱我，也许你能筹到，可以后你会埋怨我的。我宁愿不麻烦你，可你却不理解我的苦心。像我这样的女人，还有良心的话，我们说话做事都是有深意的，别的女人是不可能理解的。我再说一遍，玛格丽特·戈蒂埃要还债，可不用向你要钱的办法是对你的体谅，你应该默不吭声好好受用就行了。你要是今天才认识我，你可能会对我的许诺感到非常高兴，也不会去追究我前天究竟干了什么。有时候，我们被迫牺牲肉体来换得精神上的满足，可之后精神上还受到伤害，对我们来说，是再痛苦不过了。”

一直看着玛格丽特，听着她的话，我不由自主地欣赏她了。想到这个人间尤物，我曾渴望吻她的脚，现在却愿意对我敞开心扉，让我进入她的生活，而我还不满足。我扪心自问这世间人的欲望到底有没有尽头。我的愿望之前很快实现了，可我还得寸进尺。

“真的，”她继续说道，“我们这些可怜的人有着各种稀奇古怪的欲望，同时也有着难以琢磨的爱情。我们一会儿为这个，一会儿为那个委身于人。有的男人为我们倾家荡产，最后却什么也没得到，而有人用一束鲜花却赢得了我们的芳心。我们都是凭一时心情的，这是我们唯一的消遣和借口。我发誓，我委身于你比给谁都快，知道为什么吗？因为那天你看到我咳血，紧紧抓住我的手，还哭了，因为你是唯一真正怜惜我的人。给你讲个好玩的故事吧：我原来有一只小狗，我每次咳嗽，他都很悲伤地看着我，他是我唯一喜欢的动物。他死的时候，我哭得比我母亲死的时候还伤心。说实话，我从小挨母亲的打骂挨了十二年。就这样，就像爱我的狗一样，很快爱上了你。如果男人们懂得如何同情别人的话，他们会更讨人喜欢，我们也不会那样挥霍他们的钱财了。

“你的信骗不了我，我只看出了你从心底里就不明白很多事情。对我来说，那封信对我的伤害太大了，你无论做什么我也不会那么伤心的。这当然是嫉妒所致，可你的嫉妒也太过分，太粗暴无礼了。我看你信的时候，你不知道有多伤心。本来希望十二点能见到你，跟你一起吃午饭。见到你之后，把那些一直纠缠我的悲伤痛苦的事都抛之脑后。认识你之前，我根本都不把这些当回事儿。

“而且，”玛格丽特继续说道，“对我来说，从一开始，你是唯一一个让我觉得可以一起畅想未来、无所不谈的人。那些整天围在像我这样的女人身边的人总是琢磨她们的一言一行，想在她们无意的行动里找出什么意义来。所以，很自然，我们没有朋友，有的也只是些自私自利的情人，他们花钱在我们身上，口口声声说是为了我们，实际上是满足他们自己的虚荣心。对这些男人，他们高兴的时候，我们就必须开心；他们猜疑的时候，我们也得附和，我们这些人是断然不能有什么自己的心思的，否则就会被嘲笑，被诋毁，弄得自己身败名裂。

“我们不再属于自己，我们不再是人，我们只是商品。他们要面子的时候，我们排第一，他们要尊重的时候，我们排最后。我们也有些女朋友，可都是些像普鲁登丝那样的，以前是妓女，过去就挥霍惯了，可现在人老了，没法赚钱供她们挥霍了，于是她们便成了我们的朋友，甚至是我们的食客。她们实质上是供我们驱使的奴仆，绝不可能没有私心。她们总会建议我们怎样捞钱。只要她们从中赚取一些衣服、首饰，能和我们坐着马车去我们的包厢看戏，我们即使有十个情人，她们也无所谓。最后她们还拿走前一晚上情人送我们的花束，借走我们的披肩。要她们帮忙，即使是很小的事情，也得双倍谢礼，否则别想她们会帮我们。你上次不是亲眼看见了吗？我叫她帮我去老公爵那儿取钱，拿了六千法郎，她就借走五百法郎，她肯定不会还我的，即使还，估计就是几顶没拆封的帽子。

“所以，我们，或者说我吧，这样一个多愁善感、饱受疾病折磨的女人，唯一的幸福之路就是找个地位崇高而且有钱的男人，他从来不过问我的生活，看重感情而不是我的身子。我原以为找到公爵这样的人日子就会好了，可他年龄太大，既不能保护我，也不能安慰我。我本以为能够接受他给我安排的生活，可怎么办呢？我简直要憋死了！要是一个人注定要受那种煎熬度过余生，还不如直接跳火坑被烧死或者开煤气闷死！

“后来我遇到了你，年轻、热情、快乐，我努力想让你成为我表面光鲜、内心寂寞的生活中的另一半，成为我心灵的慰藉。我爱的不是现在的你，而且今后要改变的你。可你觉得不值而拒绝这个位置，所以我只好把你当成一般情人，跟别人一样，给我付钱吧，别再说什么。”

玛格丽特吐露这段长长的心声之后已经是疲惫不堪了，她整个人靠在了沙发上，为了忍住轻轻的咳嗽，她用手帕捂住了脸，眼睛和嘴巴都看不见了。

“原谅我，原谅我吧，”我嘟囔着，“我完全明白了，可我想听你自己跟我说，亲爱的玛格丽特。忘掉过去吧，记住：我们属于对方，我们还年轻，而且我们爱着对方。玛格丽特，随你怎样都行，我现在听你使唤，是你的小狗，看在上帝的分上，撕掉我那天写给你的信吧，明天别让我离开，我会死的。”

玛格丽特从怀里取出信来，还给了我，脸上带着无尽的微笑，说道：

“给你，我带着呢。”

我将信撕得粉碎，泪汪汪地吻着她向我伸出的手。

这时候普鲁登丝进来了。

“瞧，普鲁登丝，你猜他想干吗？”玛格丽特说道。

“他想求你原谅。”

“没错。”

“你原谅他了？”

“没办法，可他还有别的要求。”

“什么？”

“他想和我们一起吃夜宵。”

“你同意了？”

“你觉得呢？”

“我觉得你们俩就是小孩子，没个准儿，不过我现在很饿了，你们越快越好，赶紧定下来。”

“走吧，”玛格丽特说，“咱们三人一起上我的马车吧。”

“还有，”她又对我说道，“娜妮娜要睡觉了，你得去开门，拿着我的钥匙，别再丢了。”

我紧紧地拥抱着玛格丽特，差点没把她憋死。

这时候约瑟夫进来了。

“先生，”他一副洋洋得意的样子对我说道，“东西收拾好了。”

“都打包了？”

“是的，先生。”

“那再拿出来吧，我不走了。”

第十六章

我本来想用几句话简单告诉你我和玛格丽特的事，可我想告诉你我们感情是怎样一步步发展的，我才会对玛格丽特百依百顺，玛格丽特也才把我当成她生活中不可或缺的一部分。

就在她找我过后的第二天晚上，我送了她这本《玛侬·莱斯科》。

从此，我不能改变玛格丽特的生活，便只好改变自己。所以我不给自己任何时间来思考我接受的位置，因为一想到这件事，我就痛苦不堪，过去的平静的生活一下子变得纷繁芜杂，混乱不堪。别以为一个不图你钱财的情人花不了多少钱，可她平常的一些花销，如：买花、戏院包厢票、夜宵、去乡下郊游啊，这些基本要求必不可少的。

我跟你讲过，我本来钱就少。我父亲一直在C城做税务总管，他为人忠诚，名声极好，所以他能借到担任这个职位必需的保证金。他担任税务总管一年的薪水是四万法郎，还清了借款之后，还给妹妹攒下了一笔嫁妆。我母亲去世时，留下了六千法郎的年金，父亲上任时将妈妈的遗产分成了两份，一份给我，一份给妹妹。从我二十一岁开始，父亲在我的收入上又加了五千的津贴，所以我一年就有八千法郎的收入。如果我在巴黎司法界或者医疗卫生界找个差事的话，我在巴黎就会过得很滋润了。于是，我来到巴黎学法律，后来取得了律师资格，可我跟其他年轻人一样，拿到证书后没去找工作，想在巴黎过上几天闲散的生活。

我其实非常节俭了，但还是入不敷出，经常八个月就花掉了一年的收入，所以只好夏天去父亲那儿待上几个月，这样实际上我一年总共是一万两千法郎的收入，而且还让父亲觉得我挺孝顺，而且我也不会欠一分钱的债。

在认识玛格丽特之前我的生活就是这样的。可在认识她之后，你应该知道，我的花销猛增。玛格丽特非常任性，跟其他妓女一样，她从来不把上千法郎花在吃喝玩乐上当回事，她觉得这些是对她的弥补。她想尽可能跟我在一块儿，她常常上午就写信约我跟她一起吃夜宵，可不是去她家里，而是去巴黎或者郊外的一些饭店。我去接她，然后一起吃饭，之后再去看戏，最后还要吃夜宵，这样每天晚上要花上四五个路易，一个月下来要花掉两三千法郎，我一年的收入三个半月就花光了，因此我只好举债度日，要不就得离开玛格丽特。我什么都能接受，就是不能离开她。

请原谅我给你讲这么多的琐事，因为这些琐事跟后面要讲的事情是有关联的。我给你讲的故事都是真实而朴实的，我只是想保持故事的真实性和和简单的发展过程。

我知道什么也不能让我忘记我的情人，所以我必须要做点什么事情来应付每个月因为她而增加的花销。唉，对待这桩爱情，我几乎是神魂颠倒，一刻也不能离开她，离开她的日子简直是度日如年，所以我只好找个事情消磨内心的欲火，这样我可以忘掉时间。

于是我开始在我小小的本金中借了五六千法郎，拿了钱我便开始赌博。那时候赌场被取缔了，所以到处都可以赌钱。以前人们一走进弗拉斯卡第，就有机会发财，那会儿都是赌现金，要是输了，总会安慰自己说下次还有赢的机会。可是现在，除了俱乐部赌博还比较正规，在别的地方，要是赢了一大笔钱，是不可能拿得到手的。你应该清楚其中的原因吧。赌钱的人，大多是开销大而又没有足够的钱应付他们生活的年轻人。他们赌博通常是这样的：赢了的话，输家就替赢家支付车马钱和情妇的花销，这让人非常不舒服。于是就有人债台高筑，本来在赌博绿台桌上建立起来的友谊后来却发展到吵得不可开交，声名狼藉，活着不免显得悲哀。如果你是一个诚实的人，你会发现会被一些比你更诚实的人搞得身败名裂，这些年轻人本来并没有什么错，只是他们一年收入不是二十万法郎。

至于那些赌徒怎么做手脚，我就不跟你说了，他们总有一天会落荒而逃，最终受到严惩。

而我也堕落到这种紧张激烈和喧嚣吵闹的生活中去了。以前我对这种生活想起来都觉得可怕，可现在除了和玛格丽特在一起之外，我还能做什么呢？

要是哪天不去昂坦大街，我自己一个人待在家里是睡不着的。心中的妒火剧烈地焚烧着我的血液和思想，彻夜难眠。赌博还能暂时引开我心中熊熊燃烧的烈焰，所以我将我的激情暂时寄托在赌博上，等跟玛格丽特见面的时间一到，不管是输还是赢，我会毫不犹豫离开赌桌，还同情那些留下来继续赌博的人，不像我，有机会寻找自己真正的幸福去了。对于大部分人来说，赌博是一种需要，而对我呢，则是一副镇静剂。没有玛格丽特，我本不会去赌博的。

赌博的时候，我非常冷静，输我能付得起的钱，赢也只赢我输得起的钱。

而且，我的赌运总是不错。我没欠债，可花销要比没赌钱的时候多三倍。赌博可以让我很轻松地应付玛格丽特上千法郎的花销。而她呢，还是一如既往地爱着我，甚至比以前更爱。

前面跟你说过，刚开始她只是半夜十二点到早上六点之间和我在一起，后来她允许我可以常常去她包厢，后来她有时候还跟我一起吃晚饭。一天早上，我到了八点才走，还有一天我十二点才走。

可精神上的问题还没完全解决，玛格丽特身体上的病又来了。我想尽办法给她治病，可怜的姑娘知道了我的意图后，为了表示感激，她便开始听我的话。我几乎没费什么劲儿就让她远离了过去的生活，我让她去找的那位医生对我说只有静养，她才能康复。于是我规定她吃夜宵必须符合卫生要求，同时还规定她每天必须保证充足的睡眠。玛格丽特不知不觉便习惯了这样的新生活，她自己也感觉到这种生活方式对她的病是有好处的。于是她有时候傍晚在家待着，天气好的话，她会裹上披肩，罩上面纱，和我一起像孩子似的在香榭丽舍大街昏暗的小道上散步。她回家时有点疲劳，稍微吃点晚餐，然后上床听听音乐，看看书，这种生活她从来没有过。从前我常常听到让人心疼的咳嗽再也没有了。

六周以后，伯爵已经无所谓了，完全被抛在脑后了，只有公爵，我不得不继续隐瞒我和玛格丽特的关系。每次我在玛格丽特房里的时候，公爵来访，只好借口说她还在睡觉，不准别人叫醒她。

结果是玛格丽特总需要我待在她身边，甚至非常依赖我。之所以去赌场，因为总赢钱，我便像一个精明的赌徒一样，该溜时便溜。结果我发现自己已经有一万法郎的样子，这对我来说，简直就是用之不尽的资本。

按以前的习惯，到了我去看望父亲和妹妹的时候了，可我没去。他们常常来信叫我回家。对他们的来信，我尽可能一一回复，总是重复说我身体很好，不缺钱花，我想这两点能使父亲对我推迟回家感到一丝慰藉。

夏天的某一天，清晨的阳光照醒了玛格丽特，她跳下床，问我是否愿意带她去乡下玩一天。

我们派人叫来了普鲁登丝，玛格丽特吩咐娜妮娜告诉公爵她要趁这大好的晴天跟杜维尔努瓦夫人去乡下玩，于是我们三个人一起出发了。

带着杜维尔努瓦夫人，老公爵那边好交差。普鲁登丝似乎天生就喜欢郊游。她总是兴高采烈，胃口极好，有她做伴，我们决不会觉得无聊，而且她极其乐意帮我们订购鸡蛋、樱桃、牛奶还有煨兔肉等等，这些都是野餐必备的传统食品。

我们只需要定好上哪儿去就行了，这个问题最后也是普鲁登丝帮我们解决的。

“你们是想到实实在在的乡下去吗？”

“是啊。”

“那咱们去布吉瓦尔吧，去阿尔努德寡妇的曙光旅舍去。阿尔芒，你去租辆敞篷的四轮马车吧。”

一个半小时以后，我们便到了阿尔努德寡妇的旅舍。

或许你知道这个旅舍，周一到周五经营旅馆，周末经营茶社。那儿有一个花园，有一般的二层楼那么高，从花园远眺，风景非常棒。花园左边是一望无际的马利引水渠，右边则是层峦叠嶂。在加比荣平原和克罗瓦西岛之间，有一条大大的银白色的河流经过，这里的水势非常平缓，像有一条宽大的白色水波缎带向两边伸展着。两岸高大的杨树随风飘动，柳树也在低声细语，像是永远在哄着小河进入梦乡。在阳光的照耀下，远处清晰可见的是一片红瓦白墙的小房子，还有一些工厂，距离较远，只能看到大概的轮廓；再往远处，依稀可见的是迷雾笼罩的巴黎！就像普鲁登丝说得一样，这是真真正正的乡下，我要说，这才是名副其实的午餐！

这不仅仅是出于感激才这么说的，说实话，布尔吉瓦，除了名字难听点，确实是个不错的地方。我去过很多地方旅行，见过很多雄伟壮丽的景色，可没见过比幸福地坐落在这个山脚下的小乡村更迷人的地方了。

阿尔努德夫人问我们是否愿意划船，玛格丽特和普鲁登丝兴高采烈地接受了。

人们总是愿意把乡村和爱情联系在一起，他们说得很对。在蓝蓝的天空下，闻着各种野草的气味儿，嗅着阵阵吹来的花香，沐浴着轻轻的凉风，享受太阳照耀下乡野的僻静，还有什么比这些送给情人更美好的呢？！无论你多么爱一个女人，无论你多么信任她，无论她的过去是否能保证她将来的忠诚，你多多少少会有些自私的。你要是恋爱过，你一定想过要把你的情人和世界隔绝，只有你能独享她。不管你心爱的人对其他人是如何冷漠，但只要她和别的男人或者什么事物接触过，她就会失去她本来的芳香，就不再完美了。这一点，我比多数人体会都深刻。我的爱情不是普通的爱情，我不能像普通人一样恋爱，因为我的爱人是玛格丽特·戈蒂埃。也就是说，在巴黎，我每走一步都可能碰到她以前或以后的情人。可在乡下，周围的人们都不认识我们，也没有人关心我们是谁，我们在一年最好的季节——春天——远离城市的喧嚣，置身于大自然的怀抱，不再掩饰我的爱，也不再觉得羞耻和恐惧。

“妓女”这个字眼慢慢融进自然中了。此时此刻，我身边依偎着的是一位年轻、美貌的女人，我爱她，她也爱我，这个女人叫玛格丽特，过去的一切消失得无影无踪，只剩下光明的未来。金色的阳光洒落在我亲爱的情人身上，像是阳光下最纯洁的新娘。我们徜徉在这片诗情画意的乡村美景中，好像故意让人回想拉马丁的诗歌和斯科杜的乐曲。玛格丽特身穿白色裙子，偎依在我的肩旁。到了夜晚，繁星点点，玛格丽特不断地重复着她前一天对我说的话。远离尘嚣，我们的青春和爱情不再受到任何侵染，只剩下幸福和快乐。

这便是那天炙热的阳光透过树叶的空隙带给我的梦。我们的游船停在了一片岛上，我们躺在草地上，我任自己思绪万千，充满遐想，憧憬着美好的未来。

在岛上，我们还能看到岸边矗立着一座小巧玲珑的三层小屋，非常精致，房子外面由一个半圆形的铁栅栏围着，穿过栅栏，是一片天鹅绒般细密平整的绿草地，房子后面是一片神秘莫测的小树林。这一片地，头一天有人走过，恐怕第二天就被青苔给覆盖了。有些蔓草的花朵已经爬到了这座无人居住的宅子的台阶上，高的已经爬到了二楼。

我久久凝望着这座房子，最后我竟以为它是我自己的家了，这简直就是我日思夜想的梦中之家。在这座房子里，有我和玛格丽特，白天在山上的小树林游玩，傍晚坐在绿草地上看星星、聊天，我想啊，这个世界上还有谁比我们更幸福吗？

“多美的房子啊！”玛格丽特对我说道，她顺着我的视线看到了那座房子，或许跟我想的一样。

“哪儿啊？”普鲁登丝问。

“那边。”玛格丽特指着那座房子说。

“噢！是啊，真美！”普鲁登丝接着说道，“你喜欢吗？”

“太喜欢了！”

“那叫公爵帮你租下来吧！他会愿意的，我肯定。你愿意的话，我去帮你办。”

玛格丽特看了看我，好像是在问我怎么想。我的梦想已经随着普鲁登丝的那几句话荡然无存了，她的一席话又将我拉回到了残酷的现实世界中，拽得我头晕眼花。

“是啊，是啊，非常好！”我结结巴巴地说道，根本就不知道自己在说什么。

“那一切由我来安排。”玛格丽特放开我的手说道，她是依着自己的愿望来理解我的话的。“咱们去看看房子是否要出租吧。”

房子是空的，租金是两千法郎。

“你乐意上这儿来吗？”她问我道。

“我肯定能上这儿吗？”

“不是为了你，我躲到这儿来干吗呢？”

“那好吧，玛格丽特，我来租吧。”

“你疯啦！不但没必要，而且很危险！你又不是不知道，除了一个人，我无权接受别人的安排。我来办吧，傻孩子，什么也别说了。”

“这样的话，”普鲁登丝说，“我要是连着两天有空，我就来和你们一起住。”

后来我们离开了这座房子，启程回巴黎，一路上我一面搂着玛格丽特，一面谈论着那个新计划。下车的时候，我几乎已经卸下负担，开始考虑玛格丽特的安排了。

第十七章

第二天，玛格丽特很早就打发我走了，说公爵一大早就要来，并答应我，公爵一走，就写信告诉我晚上约会的时间、地点等。白天，我收到了一封信，信的内容是：

“我和公爵去趟布吉瓦尔，晚上八点在普鲁登丝家等我。”

玛格丽特准时到杜维尔努瓦夫人家来跟我见面。“行了，一切都安排妥当了，”她进门的时候说道。“房子租下来了？”普鲁登丝问。“是的，他立马就同意了。”

虽然我不认识公爵，可我觉得我们欺骗了他，内心很惭愧。

“不过还没完呢，”玛格丽特接着说道。

“还有什么事？”

“我在想阿尔芒住哪儿。”

“跟你住一块儿啊。”普鲁登丝笑着说道。

“不行，他得住在公爵和我吃饭的曙光旅舍里。公爵欣赏美景的时候，我趁机问阿尔努德太太（是叫阿尔努德太太吧？）有没有合适的房间出租，于是她带我看了一套，有客厅、会客室和卧室，租金是一个月六十法郎。整套房子的布置很舒服，即使是有抑郁症的人看了也会高兴的。我已经租下了这套房间，我做得怎么样啊？”我紧紧地拥抱玛格丽特并吻了她。

“真是太棒了！”她接着说道，“你拿着小门的钥匙吧，我答应把大门的钥匙给公爵，不过他不会要的，因为他要来也是白天来。我想，他应该挺高兴我离开巴黎一段时间的，这样他家人还能少说些闲话。不过他也问过我，为什么我那么喜欢巴黎，突然又决定到乡下去住。我说我病了，想到乡下静养，他似乎并不是很相信我的话。那个可怜的老头一向多疑，所以我们必须得小心点，亲爱的阿尔芒，我住过去的时候，他肯定会派人监视我，我不但要他帮我租房子，还需要他帮我还债呢，唉，我欠了不少债。你觉得我的安排怎么样？”

“挺好的。”我回答说。我总觉得这样的生活总是让我觉得不安，可话到嘴边又咽了下去。

“我们仔细转了转那座房子，我们都觉得非常不错。公爵会安排好所有事务的。噢，亲爱的，”她吻着我说道，“你真幸运，有一个百万富翁替你铺床呢。”

“那你什么时候搬过去呢？”普鲁登丝问道。

“尽快吧。”

“你的马车也带过去吗？”

“我把所有东西都搬过去，我不在的时候，麻烦你替我看看家。”

一周之后，玛格丽特搬到了乡下，我住在曙光旅舍。

从此，我们便开始了一段难以描述的生活。

开始，玛格丽特还不能完全丢掉她以前的那些坏毛病，她家里每天跟过节似的，她认识的女人都来看她。整整一个月，她家里没有哪天不是八到十个人吃饭的。普鲁登丝也把她认识的人都带来了，简直把那儿当她自己的家了。

你知道，所有的开销都是公爵付的，不过普鲁登丝也替玛格丽特常常上我这儿来要上一千法郎。你也知道我之前赌博赢了一些钱，所以每次我也毫不犹豫地就把钱交给了普鲁登丝，还总担心那些钱不够她花。后来，我还回巴黎去借了一笔钱，跟我原来借的数目差不多，不过以前借的已经还清了。这样，我手上大约有一万法郎，还没包括我的津贴。然而，当玛格丽特看到这种消遣的开支巨大，尤其是有时不得不向我要钱时，她招待朋友的热情似乎有所收敛。公爵本来租下那座房子是希望玛格丽特在乡下静养，可他自己也不再去了，他总是担心碰到一大帮嘻哈大笑的客人，他是不愿见到她们的。特别是有一天，他本来想和玛格丽特共进晚餐，可他刚进门就发现有十五个人坐在桌旁还在吃午饭。他推开饭厅的门，一阵哄笑冲他而去，他不得不退了出去，唯恐再听到那些女人的粗俗的笑声。

玛格丽特离开餐厅，走进公爵待的隔壁屋子，她竭力劝他忘记刚才的事情，可老人的自尊受到了极大的伤害，非常恼怒，不可能宽恕她。他冷冷地对她说，他已经厌烦了纵容她肆无忌惮且愚蠢的放荡生活，甚至在他自己家里她也无法赢得他的尊重，所以公爵愤然离开。

从那以后，再也没有公爵的消息。

后来玛格丽特打发走了她的客人，改变了她的生活，可也是徒劳，公爵再也没出现过。然而，我却是受益者，因为我的情人这时候完全属于我了，我的梦想终于实现了。玛格丽特再也不能没有我。她完全不顾后果，公开宣布我们的关系，所以我便长期住在她家。仆人们也正式把我当成他们的主人。

对于我们的新生活，普鲁登丝曾经竭力提醒过玛格丽特，可她说她爱我，不能没有我，还说无论发生什么，她都不愿意放弃每天和我在一起的快乐，谁要是不满意，就别上这儿来。一天，我听到普鲁登丝在跟玛格丽特说有很重要的事要告诉她，后来她们关在房间里小声嘀咕，上面就是我在房门外听到的话。

没多久，普鲁登丝又来了。她进来的时候，我正在花园，她没注意到我，毋庸置疑，看玛格丽特见她的神色就知道这次也是跟上次的事情差不多，不过我也想去听听。她俩关在一间小屋说着，于是我便去偷听。

“怎么样？”玛格丽特问道。

“我见到公爵了。”

“他怎么说？”

“上次的事情他原谅你了，可他知道你公开和阿尔芒的关系了，这件事他是决不能原谅的。他对我说，‘让玛格丽特离开那个年轻人，我会照样像以前一样照顾她，否则叫她不要再跟我提任何要求了。’”

“你怎么回答的呢？”

“我跟他说会告诉你他的决定的，还答应他劝你懂事点。亲爱的孩子，想想吧，你会失去你现在的生活，而这些却是阿尔芒不能给你的。他虽然全心全意爱着你，可是他没有足够的钱来满足你的需要啊，他总有一天会离开你的，到那时候就太晚了，公爵也不再理你了。你要去跟阿尔芒谈谈吗？”

玛格丽特似乎在想着什么，因为她没有回答。此时此刻，我的心跳得非常厉害，等待着她的回答。

“不，”她回答说，“我不会离开阿尔芒的，我不会掩饰我和他生活在一起的事实。你可能觉得我傻，可我爱他！你要我怎么做呢？他现在也已经习惯和我在一起了，要他一天离开我一小时，他都很痛苦。再说，我也活不久了，我不想折磨自己去取悦一个老头子，一见他，我都觉得自己老了。让他留着钱吧，我不要他的了。”

“那你怎么办呢？”

“我不知道。”

普鲁登丝好像要说什么，可我一头冲进去，跪倒在玛格丽特面前，泪水打湿了她的双手，这些泪水是听到她如此爱我而高兴得流出的。

“我的生命属于你，玛格丽特。你不需要那个老头儿了。不是有我吗？我会离开你吗？我能还清你给我的幸福吗？不再有约束了，玛格丽特，只要我们相爱！其他的有什么关系？”

“噢！是啊，阿尔芒，我爱你！”她搂住我的脖子低声说道，“我爱你爱得连我自己都不相信。我们会幸福的，我们会有平静的生活，我要和过去连我自己都脸红的生活永远说再见，你不会介意我的过去吧，是吗？”

我已经泣不成声，我只能紧紧地抱着玛格丽特。

“去吧，”她转过身，用颤抖的声音对普鲁登丝说道，“你就如实告诉公爵吧，你也可以告诉他我们不再需要他了。”

从那天起，我们再也没提起过公爵。玛格丽特不再是我以前认识的她了，她尽量避免让我想起她以前的生活。她给我的爱是任何妻子都无法比拟的，她给我的爱是超越了任何姐妹对弟弟的关心。她体弱多病，而又多愁善感。她断绝了和以前所有朋友的来往，改变了过去所有的坏习惯，说话也不像以前了，也不再奢侈浪费了。我们每天出门，到河边坐上我买的那只精致的小船去游河，谁也不会相信穿着白色长裙、戴着草帽、肩上搭一件再普通不过的抵御河上寒气的丝织外衣的女人就是玛格丽特·戈蒂埃。四个月前，她还被人常常议论是个生活放荡、奢侈浪费的巴黎名妓呢。

啊！那些日子，我们只顾享乐，仿佛我们彼此都知道这样的日子不会长久。

我们已经两个月没去过巴黎了。除了普鲁登丝和我开始跟你提到过的朱莉·杜普拉特来看过我们，我现在讲的这个感人至深的故事就是后来玛格丽特交给她的日记上的。

我整天待在情人的身旁。我们开着窗户，望着外面的花园，夏天的花园繁花似锦。我们到树阴下一起享受着这美景，这才是真正的生活！无论是我还是玛格丽特以前从来没有过的真正的生活！

玛格丽特像孩子一样，一件小小的事情都会让她惊奇不已。有些天，她像个十岁的孩子一样，整天在花园里跑来跑去，追赶蝴蝶啊，蜻蜓什么的。这个曾经花在鲜花上的钱比别人一家人舒舒服服过日子的花销还多的女人，有时候坐在草地上，琢磨着一朵非常普通的花，因为她的名字就取自于花名（法语“玛格丽特”是“菊花”的意思）。

在那些日子里，她一遍又一遍地读《玛侬·莱斯科》，我好几次发现她在书上做了笔记，她总是说一个恋爱中的女人不会像玛侬那样的。

公爵给她写了两三封信，她认出是公爵的笔迹，连看也不看就递给我了。我常常被信里的措辞感动得流泪。他本以为断了玛格丽特的经济来源，她就会回到他身边，可他发现这招根本不管用。等他坚持不住了，他便写信要求跟以前一样再去看她，并且什么要求都答应她。

我看完那些写得急匆匆、翻来覆去都是那些话的信以后，把它们都撕毁了，没有告诉玛格丽特信的内容，也没有建议她去看看老人。尽管我同情那位可怜的老人，可我又担心，要是我劝她跟以前一样保持来往的话，她会觉得我不仅仅是想让公爵来看她，而且是想让公爵负担房子的一切费用。我担心的是她可能会认为我会逃避责任，逃避她对我的爱产生的种种结果。

终于，公爵没有收到任何回信，也就不再来信了。玛格丽特和我继续一起生活，根本没有考虑未来的生活。

第十八章

我们的新生活有很多琐事，要给你讲完不是一件容易的事情。我们跟孩子似的过着，对我们来说非常有意思，可对听故事的人来说也许没有任何意义。你知道，爱一个女人的滋味是什么样的？你知道时间是过得多么得快，只是苦于日短？你知道两个热恋、互信的人在一起可以把一切外物都抛之脑后？你知道对于热恋中的人，旁人都是多余？我甚至后悔曾经在别的女人身上费过一番心思，而且简直不能相信除了自己手里拉着的手之外，还会有什么可能去拉别人的手。我满脑子只有玛格丽特，既不思考，也不回忆，总之，没什么能将她从我脑子里赶走，凡是影响我的想法的念头都被抛之脑后。我每天都会在情人身上发现她的一个迷人之处，一种不为人知的愉悦。人生不外乎就是满足自己不断的愿望，灵魂不过是爱情圣火的守护女神。

到了夜晚，我们常常走到小树林，那儿能俯视我们的小房子，还能听到夜晚欢乐和谐的交响乐，而且我们俩都想着不久又可以相拥到天明。有时候我们整日都不起床，甚至窗帘都不开，也不让阳光进屋。

窗帘紧闭着，那会儿外面的世界根本不属于我们。只有娜妮娜一个人有权利进我们的门，但也只是给我们送东西吃。我们就坐在床上吃，还不停地嬉笑打闹，快乐无比。之后再小睡一会儿。我们完全沉溺于深深的爱河之中，像两个潜水员，只在换气的时候才露出水面。

然而，奇怪的是，有时候玛格丽特显得很忧郁，甚至还落泪。我问她为什么突然悲伤起来，她回答说：

“我们的爱不同于别人，我的阿尔芒。你爱我，仿佛我从没委身于别人，可我非常害怕你突然会后悔给我的爱，开始讨厌过去的我，我害怕你会让我堕落回以前的生活。想想现在新生活的滋味儿，要我再回到从前，我会死的。告诉我你决不会离开我！”

“我发誓！”

说着这些话，她看着我，仿佛要从我的眼睛里看出我的誓言是不是出于真心。然后她扑到我怀里，头蜷在我胸前，对我说：“你知道我有多爱你吗？”

一天晚上，我们偎依在窗台的栏杆上，看着天上云遮雾绕的月亮徐徐升起，倾听着风吹树叶沙沙作响的声音，我们手拉着手，一刻钟没有说话。后来玛格丽特对我说：

“冬天快到了，你愿意跟我去国外吗？”

“去哪儿？”

“意大利。”

“你不喜欢这儿了？”

“我害怕这儿的冬天，特别害怕你回巴黎。”

“为什么？”

“很多原因。”

她没有解释原因，却突然继续说道：

“你愿意出国吗？我把我所有的东西都卖掉，咱们一起到意大利去生活，那儿没有我过去的影子，没人认识我。你愿意吗？”

“玛格丽特，你要是喜欢的话，咱们就去吧。”我说，“不过哪儿有必要变卖你的东西呢？你要是回来再看见熟悉的东西，你会高兴的呀。虽然我没有那么多钱来弥补你作出的牺牲，可你要是喜欢，我的钱也够咱们出去旅行五六个月呢。”

“算了，还是不去了，”她离开窗台，一面走到卧室尽头的一张沙发上坐下来，之后说道，“花钱去那儿有什么意思？我在这儿已经花了你很多钱了。”

“你不高兴了，玛格丽特，你又小气了吧？”

“原谅我，我的朋友，”她伸手给我说，“这种暴风雨的天气，我就会心情郁闷，我不是故意的。”

她拥抱了我一下之后又陷入了沉思。

像这种情形发生过好几次，虽然我并不知道原因，可我能看出来玛格丽特是在担心未来。她不怀疑我对她的爱，因为我是越来越爱她了。然而，我发现她常常莫名地悲伤，除了她借口说身体不适，她没说过任何原因。我担心她是开始厌倦这种单调的生活，所以我提议回巴黎，可她总是拒绝我的提议，还说她只有在乡下才会觉得快乐。

普鲁登丝偶尔来一次，不过她也常常来信。虽然我从没看过她的信，可玛格丽特每次看完信都会沉思半晌，心事重重，我也不知道她在想什么。

一天，玛格丽特待在她房间里。我进去了，看见她正在写信。“在跟谁写信呢？”我问她道。“给普鲁登丝，想知道我写的什么吗？”她说。

我很厌恶猜疑，所以便回答说我不想知道。不过，我很肯定那封信能告诉我她忧心的原因。

第二天，天气非常好。玛格丽特提议坐船到克罗瓦西去玩，她那天似乎心情很好。我们回家已经是下午五点了。

“杜维尔努瓦夫人来了，”我们刚一进门，娜妮娜就说。

“她走了吗？”玛格丽特问道。

“走了，夫人，坐您的马车走的，她说是安排好了的。”

“很好，”玛格丽特匆匆说道，“去准备饭吧。”

两天过后，普鲁登丝来了封信。之后大概有两周，玛格丽特似乎不像以前总是莫名地忧心了，因为她不断地请求我的原谅，实际上我根本没放在心上。然而，马车一直没有回来过。

“普鲁登丝怎么没有送回你的马车呢？”有一天我问她。

“一匹马病了，车子需要修理。反正这里不需要坐车，我们回巴黎之前修好不是更好吗？”

两天之后，普鲁登丝来了，她证实了玛格丽特的话。她俩在花园里散了会儿步，我过去的时候，她们便岔开了话题。那天晚上，普鲁登丝正要离开，她抱怨说天气太冷，叫玛格丽特借她一件羊毛披肩。

又一个月过去了，玛格丽特比任何时候都要开心，而且也更加爱我了。然而，马车没再回来，披肩也没再送回来。我不由自主地猜疑起来。我知道玛格丽特把普鲁登丝的来信放在哪个抽屉，于是我趁她在花园的时候，想打开看看。结果她把抽屉锁上了。接着我打开她平时放金银首饰和钻石的抽屉，抽屉倒是打开了，可里面的首饰盒不见了，当然盒子里的东西也不见了。

一股针刺的恐惧袭上心头。我想问玛格丽特到底怎么回事，她肯定是不会告诉我的。

“我亲爱的玛格丽特，”我说，“我请求你允许我去趟巴黎，我家里人都不知道我在哪儿，我想他们肯定来信了，父亲一定想我回家，他肯定挂念我，我得回去给他回封信。”

“去吧，亲爱的，”她说，“早点回来。”于是我直接去找了普鲁登丝。

“嗨，”我开门见山地问她道，“跟我说实话吧，玛格丽特的马车呢？”

“卖了。”

“羊毛披肩呢？”

“卖了。”

“钻石呢？”

“当了。”

“是谁卖的？又是谁当的？”

“我啊。”

“为什么不告诉我？”

“玛格丽特叫我别说。”

“为什么不问我要钱？”

“因为她不许我要。”

“那些钱呢？”

“还债了。”

“她欠了很多吗？”

“三万法郎左右。唉，亲爱的，我不是早就跟你讲过吗？你不相信我，现在你该相信了吧。原来公爵同意替她付钱，可地毯商去找公爵，却吃了闭门羹。第二天，公爵还写信告诉地毯商他不再管戈蒂埃的事情了。可这个人要钱啊，只好分期付给他，我从你那儿要的几千法郎就是付给他的。后来有好心人提醒他说欠债的人已经被公爵抛弃了，现在和一个没钱的年轻人住在一起。别的债权人也知道了这个消息，他们也来讨债，来强行拿走了一些东西，玛格丽特想卖掉所有的东西，可时间来不及了，何况我也反对她这么做。但是债还是要还，为了不向你要钱，她只好卖掉了马车和披肩，当掉了钻石。你要看看发票和当票吗？”

接着，普鲁登丝便打开抽屉，给我看了那些票据。

“唉，你该相信了吧，”她继续说道，一副女人占理洋洋得意的样子，“我是对的吧！呵，你以为相爱就完了吗？你以为去乡下过几天梦中的田园生活就行了么？不行啊，我的朋友，不行啊。理想生活的背后还有现实生活，最纯洁的爱情是脱离不了庸俗的现实的，而且他们之间就像被铁索牢牢地系上了一样，很难挣断的。如果说玛格丽特对你一心一意，从不骗你，那是因为她性格所致。我劝她并没有错，我是不忍心看到她坐吃山空，可她就是不听！她跟我说她爱你，她不会再欺骗你。这些都太美好了，太浪漫了，可爱情能还债吗？她现在还不了她的债，还欠着三万法郎呢。”

“好吧，我来还吧。”

“你去借啊？”

“是啊，我的天！”

“你可要干出好事来了！你想气死你父亲呀！他会断掉你的经济来源的！况且，三万法郎也不是一下能凑够的。相信我，亲爱的阿尔芒，我比你了解女人，别做傻事，总有一天你会后悔的，理智点吧。我不是建议你离开玛格丽特，而是你要像跟她刚开始的时候那样生活，让她自己去解决她的债务。公爵慢慢会找她的。N伯爵昨天还对我说，如果玛格丽特愿意接受他，他会替她还清所有的债，而且每个月再给她四五千法郎，他一年有二十万法郎的收入。这对她来说是个依靠，而你呢，别等到破产的时候再离开她。况且，N伯爵傻乎乎的，一点也不影响你继续做她的情人。她开始会伤心一阵儿，不过，她很快会习惯的，总有一天你会感谢我这么做的。你就当玛格丽特已经嫁人了，你们欺骗她丈夫，这样不就完了。这些话我已经给你说过了，那时候还只是建议，可现在是势在必行了。”

普鲁登丝所说的虽然残酷，可她确实有道理。

“就是这样的，”她一面收拾那些票据，一面对我说道，“玛格丽特这样的女人就是等着别人来爱，她们是永远不会去爱别人的。她们得攒钱，等到三十岁的时候，她们就可以为一无所有的情人这个奢侈品买单。要是我早知道有今天该多好啊！总之，什么也别对玛格丽特说，把她带回巴黎就行了！你跟她已经过了四五个月了，还不够吗？现在你就睁一只眼闭一只眼好了，两周之后，她会接待N伯爵的，今年冬天她节约一点，明年夏天，你们又可以重新开始了。就这么办吧，亲爱的！”

普鲁登丝似乎很满意她的建议，可我愤然拒绝了。

不仅是我的爱情和我的尊严不允许，而且我也相信玛格丽特宁死也是不愿意接受另外一个情人了。

“别开玩笑了，”我对普鲁登丝说，“告诉我玛格丽特需要多少钱还债？”

“跟你说了，三万法郎。”

“什么时候要呢？”

“两个月以内。”

“她会有的。”

普鲁登丝无奈地耸了耸肩膀。

“我会给你的，”我接着说，“可你必须发誓不要告诉玛格丽特是我给你的。”

“放心好了。”

“她要是再托你卖掉或者当掉什么东西，你就来告诉我。”

“这你不用操心，她已经没什么值钱的东西了。”

我直接回了家，看看是否有父亲的来信。果然有四封。

第十九章

父亲头三封信主要是问我不回信的原因，最后一封提到他听说我在生活上发生了一些变化，并说他不久要到巴黎来看我。

我向来非常尊敬父亲，对他有一种真挚的感情。我回信说没及时回信是因为作了一次短途旅行，并请他提前告诉我他来巴黎的时间，这样我可以去接他。

我把我在乡下的住址告诉了仆人，并嘱咐他一收到从C城寄来的信就及时送给我，然后我又回到布尔吉瓦了。

玛格丽特在花园大门口接我。她仿佛很焦虑，伸手搂住我的脖子，说道：“见到普鲁登丝了吗？”

“没有。”

“怎么在巴黎待了那么久？”

“收到父亲几封信，必须要给他回。”

几分钟后，娜妮娜气喘吁吁地跑进来了。玛格丽特起身跟她低声说着什么。娜妮娜出去以后，玛格丽特又坐下，拉着我的手说道：

“你为什么骗我？你明明去见过普鲁登丝。”

“谁告诉你的？”

“娜妮娜。”

“她怎么知道的？”

“她一直跟着你。”

“你叫她跟踪我？”

“没错。你跟我在一起四个月了，你突然想去巴黎，一定有很重要的事。我担心你有事，或者你可能去见别的女人呢。”

“傻孩子！”

“现在我放心了。我知道你都做了什么，可我还不知道她都跟你说了什么呢。”

我把父亲的来信给玛格丽特看。

“我不是问你这个，我是想知道你为什么要去找普鲁登丝。”

“去看看她而已。”

“在撒谎吧，我的朋友。”

“我是去问她你的马车修好了没，还有她什么时候还回你的披肩和首饰。”

玛格丽特一下满脸通红，什么话也没说。

“而且，”我继续说，“我已经知道你怎么处置你的马车、披肩和首饰了。”

“你生气了？”

“我生气的是你为什么从来不向我要你需要的东西呢？”

“像我们这样的关系，女人如果还有一点自尊的话，她无论牺牲什么也不应该向她的情人索要钱财的，否则跟卖淫有什么区别。你爱我，我完全相信，可你不知道对于我这样的女人来说，爱情是多么的脆弱。谁说得清呢？没准儿哪天你厌烦了，或者你可能认为我们这场爱情是我精心策划的买卖。普鲁登丝太多嘴了。我还需要什么马车呀？卖了还能省下一笔开销。反正我也用不着，还可以省去一些费用。只要你爱我，我也没什么可求的了。我没有马车，没有披肩，没有钻石，你也会爱我的。”

这是她的真情流露，听得我饱含泪水。

“不过，我亲爱的玛格丽特，”我深情地握住她的手回答说，“你作出的牺牲我总有一天会知道的呀，到那时候我怎么受得了。”

“为什么啊？”

“因为，我亲爱的孩子，我不愿意因为我让你卖掉首饰，一件也不行。我同样也不希望你在感到厌烦或者担心生活问题，就想去跟别人做一阵儿情人，然后你觉得这些问题就不存在了。我不希望你因为和我在一起而感到有一丝的遗憾。几天之后，你的马车、钻石还有披肩都会归还给你，这些东西对你来说就像空气对于生命一样重要，你也许会觉得可笑，比起简朴的你，我更喜欢看到你过着奢华的生活。”

“这么说你不再爱我了。”

“傻瓜！”

“如果你还爱我的话，那你就让我用自己的方式来爱你。不然，你就只会把我看成是一个穷奢极欲的女人，而且总觉得你应该给我钱。你羞于接受我的爱情表白，你总是不由自主地想到有一天你会离开我，因此，你总是小心翼翼，唯恐被人怀疑。你是对的，我的朋友，我原来的希望不只这些。”

玛格丽特想起身，我拉住她，对她说：

“我希望你幸福，希望你将来不要埋怨我，就这些。”

“我们是要分手了！”

“为什么？玛格丽特，谁能分开我们啊？”

“你不愿意让我知道你的事，可你又偏想知道我的事，你希望我过奢侈的生活来满足你的虚荣心，来继续保持和你在思想上的距离；你不相信我对你的爱情，不相信我愿意和你同甘共苦；你的财产本来足够我们过得很幸福，可你宁愿倾家荡产，因为你心里一直怀着愚蠢的偏见。你以为我真会拿你的爱情和马车、钻石相比吗？你以为有了那些珠宝和马车我就会幸福吗？当然，没有爱情的时候，那些东西固然很重要，可有了爱情，你认为那些东西还有什么价值呢？你要替我还债，花光自己的钱财，然后再养我？将来还能过多久啊？两三个月？到那时候再依我的办法就太晚了！因为那时候你什么都得听我的，可一个有尊严的男人是绝不可能那么做的。你现在有八千到一万法郎的年金，有了这些钱，我们就能过日子了。我要卖掉多余的东西，这样我一年也能有两千法郎的收入，然后我们可以租一套漂亮的小公寓来住。到了夏天，我们还可以去乡下，不要住现在这样的大房子，有一间够两个人住就行了。你很独立，我也很自由，我们都还年轻，看在上帝的分上，阿尔芒，不要再迫使我过以前的生活了吧！”

我一言不发。内心充满了感激和怜爱，此时泪水已经模糊了我的双眼，我一头扑进了玛格丽特的怀里。

“我原来想，”她接着说道，“瞒着你安排好一切，把我的债还清，然后租下新公寓。等十月份我们回到巴黎，一切已经安排好了。可既然普鲁登丝已经告诉你了，你就提前同意吧，免得事后再承认。你能做到吗？”

对这样的爱我怎么能拒绝呢？我疯狂地吻着玛格丽特的手，对她说道：

“你愿意怎么办就怎么办吧，我都听你的。”

她的计划就这样定了下来。她兴高采烈地跳啊，唱啊，想象着她简朴的新公寓，还跟我商量在哪儿租，怎么布置。我看她是多么高兴，多么骄傲她的决定啊！仿佛她的这个决定会让我们永不分离。我也决定承担一些责任。所以，我很快安排好今后的生活。我把财产作了妥善安排，把母亲留给我的年金转赠给玛格丽特，虽然数量不多，但是也算是为报答她对我的一片真情的一点补偿吧。我父亲每年还给我五千法郎的津贴，无论发生什么事，生活还是够了的。我没有告诉玛格丽特我的决定，因为我很肯定她不会接受的。这笔钱是来自一座价值六万法郎房子的押金，房子我从来没见过。我只知道，每三个月我父亲的公证人——我家的一位世交——会交给我七百五十法郎，并取回收据。

一天，我和玛格丽特回巴黎去找房子，我去找了公证人，问他将这笔年金转赠给别人的手续。好心的他担心我破产，问了我这么做的理由。因为我迟早要告诉他受益者是谁，所以我决定当时就告诉他。

无论是公证人还是我家的朋友，他完全可以提出反对意见，可他向我保证会妥善处理我的事情。当然，我也恳求他在我父亲面前务必保守秘密。跟他分别之后，我又去找玛格丽特，那会儿她在朱莉·杜普拉特家等我，至少在朱莉家不用再听普鲁登丝的教诲。

于是我们开始找房子。看过的所有房子，不是玛格丽特觉得太贵，就是我觉得太简陋。然而，我们最后终于达成一致，在巴黎最僻静的一个地方租了一幢小房子，是附属于大楼的小房子，但是独立的。房子后面有一个美丽的小花园，花园四周是围墙，墙的高矮很合适，既能把我们和邻居隔开，又不至于挡住视线，房子比我们想象的要好。

于是我回普罗旺斯街的房子吩咐了一下，期间玛格丽特也去见了一个经纪人，她跟我说，这个人以前替她一个朋友办过她这次需要他帮忙办的事。后来她兴奋地回到了普罗旺斯街来找我。这个人答应帮她卖掉所有的家具，替她还清所有的债，并把结清的账单交给她，再给她两万法郎。你也知道了，从拍卖的价格来看，那个诚实的经纪人大约赚了她三万法郎。

我们又一路高高兴兴地回到了布尔吉瓦，继续商量我们今后的计划。因为我们现在无所顾虑，特别是我们彼此相爱，所以总觉得未来的生活一定是美好的。

一周过后，我们正在吃午饭，娜妮娜进来说，我的仆人要见我。“叫他进来吧。”我说道。

“先生，”他说，“你父亲来巴黎了，请你立刻回家，他在那儿等你。”

这本来是个最平常不过的消息了，可我和玛格丽特听到之后，不由自主地看了看对方，看来我们都猜到麻烦来了。她还没来得及开口，我便拉着她的手说道：“别担心。”

“快点回来啊，”玛格丽特抱着我低声说道，“我会在窗台边等你。”

于是我吩咐约瑟夫去告诉父亲，我已经在路上了。两小时以后，我回到了普罗旺斯街。

第二十章

父亲穿着睡衣坐在客厅里写着信。我刚一进门，冲他抬头看我那眼神，我立刻就觉得出大事儿了，这次谈话将会很严肃。不过，我假装什么都没看见，于是走上前去，拥抱了一下他，说道：

“您什么时候到的，爸爸？”

“昨晚。”

“您还是跟以前一样，下车直接来这儿的吗？”

“是啊。”

“很抱歉，我没去接你。”

父亲冷冷的样子看着我，我本期望在寒暄之后他会立刻开始训我，可他什么也没说。封上刚写的信，交给约瑟夫去寄了。

屋子里只剩下了我们俩。父亲站起身来，靠着壁炉，对我说：

“亲爱的阿尔芒，我想很严肃地跟你谈谈。”

“您说，爸爸。”

“你答应我说实话吗？”

“我从来不说实话吗？”

“你现在跟一个叫玛格丽特·戈蒂埃的女人住在一起，是真的吗？”

“是的。”

“你知道她是什么样的人？”

“以前是个妓女。”

“就是因为她，你今年才没来看我和你妹妹吧？”

“是的，爸爸，我承认。”

“你很爱她？”

“是的，爸爸。就是因为她，我才没有回去尽孝，所以今天请求您的原谅。”

毋庸置疑，父亲没有料到我会这么爽快得就回答了他，他似乎考虑了一会儿，之后对我说：“你难道没意识到你不能再这么下去了吗？”

“我想过，爸爸，可我做不到。”

“可你应该知道，”父亲的语气似乎有点生硬，说道，“我怎么也不会同意你这么做的啊。”

“我想只要我没做出什么辱没家风的事来，就可以像现在这样继续过，这么想我才没那么担心。”

爱情这时候成了亲情的劲敌。为了保住玛格丽特，我准备好了跟父亲的斗争。

“那你现在该改改你的生活了。”

“为什么，爸爸？”

“因为你的所作所为已经败坏了家风，可你还认为没有！”

“我不懂您的意思。”

“那我来跟你说吧。你赶时髦，找情人，养着她，我不反对。可是你为了她，忘记了自己最神圣的事情，你干的好事已经传到乡下老家了，辱没了我家名声，这是不行的，以后也不允许你这么做。”

“爸爸，请允许我说，告诉你消息的人根本就不知道实情。我是戈蒂埃小姐的情人，我跟她同居，这是再也平常不过的事情了。我并没有给她名分，我们并没有结婚，我花的钱都是我自己的收入，我并没有欠债。总之，我的所作所为还不至于爸爸这么说我。”

“看到儿子不务正业，一个父亲总是有权利管的。你还没做出什么坏事来，以后可就说不准了。”

“爸爸！”

“孩子，我比你的生活经历要丰富，只有最贞洁的女人才谈得上最纯洁的爱情。任何一个玛侬都会有一个德格里欧的，可时代变了。人要是年纪大了还不走正道，那一辈子就完了，离开她吧。”

“非常抱歉，爸爸，我不能听您的，真的不可能。”

“我会逼你同意的。”

“可是，爸爸，放逐妓女的圣·玛格丽特岛已经不存在了啊，即使有，你能送她去，我也会随玛格丽特一起去的。你说怎么办？也许是我错了，可是我只有做她的情人才能感到幸福。”

“阿尔芒，睁开你的眼睛看看吧，是你父亲在和你讲话，你的父亲永远是爱你的，一心希望你幸福，可你跟一个任何人都可以占有的女人像夫妻似的生活着，你不觉得丢脸吗？”

“爸爸，只要她以后不再跟别人，那又有什么关系呢？只要这个女人爱我，并且她的整个人生都会因为我们彼此相爱而彻底改变，从此改邪归正，那又有什么关系呢？”

“那么你认为一个有身份的男人的职责就是去帮助一个女人弃恶从善吗？难道你认为上帝就给你这么一个荒诞的使命吗？一个人就不该有别的追求吗？等你四十岁的时候，你今天的伟大会带来什么结果呢？那时候你会怎样看待你今天的所作所为呢？如果那时候你的这种爱情没有给你的过去留下深刻的痕迹，你到时候只会嘲笑你当初的爱情，如果你还笑得出来的话。如果你的父亲过去跟你一样，因为这种冲动放弃他的一生，而不是去追求至高无上的荣誉和自己忠诚的事业的话，你现在会是什么样子呢？想想吧，阿尔芒，别再讲那些傻话了，离开那个女人，爸爸求你了！”

我什么也没回答。

“阿尔芒，”父亲接着说道，“看在你神圣的母亲分上，放弃吧，你会很快忘掉的，比你想象的要快。你的理论是行不通的。你已经二十四岁了，想想未来吧。你不可能永远爱她的，她也不会永远爱你，你们都太夸大你们的爱情了。为了她，你断送了你一生的事业，再向前一步，你就没法回头了，你会因为你年轻时的选择后悔一辈子的。离开巴黎吧，回家和你妹妹和我待两个月，过两个月平静的生活，你会很快忘记她的，你对她只不过是一时的痴狂。而且，你的情人也会自我安慰，她会再找一个情人。因为一个女人你就和父亲闹翻，而且几乎失去父亲的爱，你到时候会明白父亲的一片苦心的，你到时候会感谢我今天所做的一切的。好了，阿尔芒，你会跟我回家的，是吧？”

对于别的女人，父亲的话是对的，可对玛格丽特，我相信是他错了。然而，他对我说最后几句话的时候是那么的慈爱，那么地恳求，我不敢回答。

“怎么样？”父亲激动地问我。

“爸爸，我不能答应你。”我只想说，“您对我的要求，我真的做不到。相信我吧，”看到他不耐烦的样子，我继续说道，“您说得太严重了，玛格丽特不是你想象的那种女人。我和她的爱情不但不会使我误入歧途，反而会让我走正道。真正的爱情总是会催人上进的，不管这个女人是谁。如果您见过玛格丽特，你会明白的。她和最高贵的女人一样高贵，别的女人身上有多少贪婪，她身上就有多少无私。”

“这倒并不妨碍她接受你的财产，你从你母亲那儿继承的六万法郎遗产，你都给了她，你要好好记住，那是你全部的财产。”

父亲可能是故意把威胁的话留在后面讲，当作对我的最后警告。然而，我在他的威胁面前比他苦苦恳求要更坚定。

“您是怎么知道我要把那笔钱给她的？”

“我的公证人。一个诚实的人不通知我就会去办这个事情吗？我来巴黎就是劝你不要为了一个姑娘而弄得自己破产。你母亲去世的时候，留给你的钱是让你正正经经过日子的，不是给你在情人面前摆阔的。”

“我向您发誓，爸爸，玛格丽特根本不知道这件事。”

“哦？那你为什么要这么做呢？”

“因为玛格丽特，就是你看不起的女人，你要我抛弃的女人，为了和我在一起，她牺牲了一切。”

“那你接受了她的牺牲？那你是怎么想的，怎么会接受她的牺牲？好了，别说了。你得离开那个女人，刚才我是恳求你，现在我命令你。我是不会允许这样的事情出现在我家的。收拾好东西，一会儿就跟我走！”

“原谅我，爸爸，”我说，“我不能走。”

“为什么？”

“我已经长大了，我有我自己的想法，可以不服从您的命令了。”

我刚说完，父亲一下子变了脸。

“很好，”他说，“那我知道了。”

他按了铃，约瑟夫便进来了。

“把我的行礼拿到巴黎宾馆去，”他一面吩咐约瑟夫道，一面走进他的卧室去换衣服。出来之后，我上前跟他说道：

“答应我，爸爸，”我说，“你别伤害玛格丽特。”

父亲站定，不屑一顾地看了我一眼，自我满足的样子说道：“我想你是疯了！”说完他便走了出去，狠狠地甩上了门。

我也跟着下了楼，乘了一辆马车，回到了布尔吉瓦。

玛格丽特在阳台上等我。

第二十一章

“你总算回来了！”她搂住我的脖子说道，“可你脸色怎么这么不好啊！”

我告诉她父亲来找我的事情。

“天啊！我想也是！”她说，“约瑟夫来说你父亲来了，我就很害怕，像是大祸临头了！可怜的朋友，都怪我。你要是离开我，你也不会为了我跟你父亲闹翻，你也许会过得更好。他知道你肯定有个情人，我做你的情人，他应该觉得高兴才是啊，我爱你，知道你的情况，也不会向你提出过多的要求，你告诉他我们未来的打算了吗？”

“说过了，可他就是为这个生气呢，因为他知道我们彼此是多么相爱。”

“那现在怎么办呢？”

“坚持住，我善良的玛格丽特，暴风雨总会过去的。”

“能过去吗？”

“一定会的。”

“可你父亲不会同意啊。”

“你觉得他会怎么做？”

“我怎么知道呢？为了让儿子服从他，他什么都可能做啊。为了让你离开我，他会让你回忆过去啊，也许还会编出关于我的一些新故事，这样你就可能放弃我了吧。”

“可你知道我是爱你的呀。”

“是的，可我也知道你迟早会听你父亲的，或许你最后会相信他的话的。”

“不会的，玛格丽特，我会说服他的。他是听了他朋友的话才生气的，我父亲心肠好、为人正直，他会改变对你的看法的。再说，这跟我又有什么关系呢？”

“别那么说，阿尔芒。我什么都愿意，可我不希望你和家人闹翻。今天就算了，明天你就回巴黎吧。你父亲也会好好考虑的，也许你们会和解的。别跟他的原则较劲儿，装出一副妥协的样子来，别表现那么地在乎我，事情就会这么过去的。要有信心，我的朋友，你只要相信，无论发生什么事情，玛格丽特永远是你的。”

“你发誓吗？”

“需要吗？”

听爱人的劝导是多么甜蜜啊！玛格丽特和我谈了一整天未来的计划，仿佛我们很快就要实现似的。我们时刻都在等待着什么事情的发生，可一天总算过去了，什么事也没发生。

第二天，我十点出发，大约十二点到的宾馆，可我父亲已经出门了。

我又回到住处，以为他上我家了，可没人来过。我又到公证人家，也没有去过。我又回到宾馆，一直等到下午六点，父亲还是没有回来，于是我只好回布尔吉瓦去了。

到家之后，发现玛格丽特还是在等我，可这次她是坐在炉火旁，这时天气已经转凉了。她深深地陷入沉思。我走进她的扶手椅，她都还没听见我回来了。我吻了她的额头，她似乎才反应过来。

“你吓了我一跳，”她说，“你爸爸呢？”

“没见到他。我不知道他什么意思。他没在宾馆，我把他可能去的地方都找过了，他都没去。”

“那你明天再去吧。”

“我倒是想等他派人来找我，我该做的都做了。”

“不行，我的朋友，你这样是不行的。你明天必须去见你父亲，明天必须去。”

“为什么必须要明天呢？改天不行吗？”

“因为，”听到我问话，玛格丽特的脸似乎微微红了一下，说道，“因为你越是想找他，他越是会原谅我们的。”

剩下的时间里，玛格丽特一直很沮丧，而且心不在焉的样子。我问她话，常常要重复两遍，她才能听见。她说她忧心忡忡是因为这两天发生的事情。我安慰了她一晚上，第二天早上她又送走了我，当时我心里是极其的不安，可也说不上来是什么原因。

还是没见到父亲，不过他给我留了封信：

“如果你今天再来，等我到四点。如果我四点还没回来，那你明天晚上和我一起吃饭，我必须要跟你谈谈。”

我按他说的等到四点，可他还是没出现，于是我又回到了布尔吉瓦。

头一天晚上，我发现玛格丽特只是愁眉苦脸的样子，可今晚回来却发现她在发烧，而且很激动的样子。她一看见我，就紧紧抱着我，在我怀里哭了好长时间。我问她为了什么突然如此伤心，这让我感到非常奇怪。她也没告诉我真正的理由，只是说了几句女人惯用的话搪塞了一下。

等她情绪稍微稳定了一些，我跟她讲了今天去巴黎的结果。我把父亲的信给她看，并且跟她说我们会谈好的。看到那封信，听到我的话，她泪如泉涌，我担心她神经受到刺激，就叫来了娜妮娜，然后扶她上床休息，她还是一言不发地哭泣着，只是握着我的手，一直吻着。

我问娜妮娜她是否在我离开的时候收到了任何信件或者有任何人来过，要不她怎么会成这个样子，可娜妮娜回答说没人来过，也没有任何信件。

可是，昨天以来肯定发生过什么事，玛格丽特越是不告诉我，我越是心烦。

傍晚，她似乎心情更平静了，她叫我坐在她床边，不断地说她多么爱我。她冲我微笑，可是笑得很勉强，因为她的眼泪总是不由自主地在眼睛里打转。

我想尽办法让她告诉我真相，可她还是支支吾吾，什么也没讲。最后，她在我怀里睡着了，可这种睡法非但不能让她好好休息，反倒是很累身体。而且，她时不时突然惊醒，发出一声尖叫。等她确定我在她身边，她才镇定下来，并且让我发誓我永远爱她。

她这个样子一直到第二天早上，我也不知道到底是什么原因。后来她睡着了，她已经有两个晚上没睡好了。

这次她也没睡多久，十一点左右便醒了，看到我起身，她四下了看了看，叫道：

“你准备要走了吗？”

“不走。”我握着她的手说道，“可我想你多睡会儿，现在还早。”

“你什么时候去巴黎？”

“四点。”

“这么快？你能陪我到四点吗？”

“当然，我不是总在吗？”

“太好了！咱们去吃午饭吧？”她心不在焉地说道。

“你想去就去吧。”

“你走之前对我好点，好吗？”

“当然，我会尽快回来的。”

“你要回来吗？”她恐惧的样子看着我说道。

“当然啰。”

“那好你回来吧。我还是等着你，你会爱我的，我们还是像刚开始那样幸福快乐。”

她说话的时候吞吞吐吐，这些话背后似乎隐藏着什么伤心的事情，我每时每刻都在担心玛格丽特会不会精神崩溃。

“听着，”我说，“你病了。我现在不能走，我写信告诉父亲不要等我了。”

“不，不，”她突然叫了起来，“别这样，你父亲想见你，他会怪我不让你去见他的。不，不，你必须去！而且，我没病，我挺好的。我只是做了个噩梦，还没完全从梦中醒来。”

玛格丽特强颜欢笑，不过这次没流眼泪。

快到我该出发的时候，我抱了抱她，问她是否愿意陪我去火车站，我希望她出去走走，散散心，别再想那些事情，而且呼吸呼吸新鲜空气对她的身体也好。我特别想跟她多待一会儿。

她同意了，穿上外套，叫上娜妮娜，免得她一会儿自己一个人。我很多次都不想离开，可我又担心会惹父亲生气，又想到快去快回，最终我还是上了火车。

“晚上等我！”分别的时候，我对玛格丽特说。

她没有作答，以前也有过一次。那一次，你还记得吧，就是G伯爵在她家里过夜，过了太久了，我都快忘了。如果说我还有什么事情要担心，肯定不会再是担心玛格丽特欺骗我的感情了。到了巴黎，我匆匆赶到普鲁登丝家，想叫她去跟玛格丽特作个伴，希望她快活的性格能够让玛格丽特高兴起来。我没通报就自行闯进她家，普鲁登丝还在盥洗室。

“哟！”她不安地说道，“你不是和玛格丽特在一起吗？”

“没有啊。”

“她怎么样了？”

“她不舒服。”

“她没跟你一起来吗？”

“你以为她要来？”

杜维尔努瓦夫人的脸红了起来，不太自然地回答道：

“我是说你在巴黎，那她就不来跟你碰面了？”

“不啊。”

我看着普鲁登丝，她低着头，我看出来她是怕我半天不走。

“亲爱的普鲁登丝，你要是今晚没什么事的话，我想请你去陪陪玛格丽特，跟她作个伴儿，你可以在那儿睡。我从来没见她像今天这个样子，我担心她是病了。”

“我今晚要去城里吃饭，”普鲁登丝说，“今天去不了，明天再去吧。”

我跟杜维尔努瓦夫人道了别，仿佛觉得她跟玛格丽特一样有心事。后来我又去了父亲那儿，他一上来上下打量了我一番，然后伸出手来跟我握手。

“你来了两次，我很高兴，阿尔芒，”他说，“这样让我觉得你跟我一样，是认真考虑过了。”

“我能问问您考虑的结果吗？”

“结果？我的孩子，我听别人讲得太多，我夸大了事实，我决定对你放松一些。”

“你在说什么，爸爸？”我兴奋地问道。

“我是说，孩子，每个年轻人都有自己的情人，从我最近打听到消息来看，我倒是宁愿玛格丽特小姐做你的情人。”

“亲爱的爸爸，我太高兴了！”

我们谈了一会儿，然后一起吃了晚饭，整个晚餐期间，父亲都很随和。

我迫不及待地想回布尔吉瓦告诉玛格丽特这个好消息，我不停地盯着墙上的钟看。

“你在看时间，”父亲说，“你急着要离开。噢，年轻人，你们总是忽视真诚的亲情去换取不靠谱的爱情！”

“别这么说，爸爸，玛格丽特爱我，这一点我很肯定。”

父亲没有说什么，他似乎既不怀疑也不相信。

他一直坚持我在他那儿过夜，第二天早上再走，可我跟他说，我来的时候，玛格丽特还在生病，恳求他让我早点回去，并答应他第二天再来。

天气非常好，他一直送我到站台，我从来没那么高兴过。我长久以来的期待的幸福生活仿佛就在眼前。我从来没有像那时候那样爱我的父亲。

我正要走的时候，他又恳求我留下来，我还是拒绝了。

“你真的那么爱她吗？”他问道。

“爱得发疯！”

“那去吧。”他伸手拂了拂额头，似乎想要赶走什么念头，然后张嘴想说什么，可他只是握了握我的手，然后突然转身，说道：“好吧，明天见！”

第二十二章

回去的途中，我仿佛觉得火车像是没走一样，太慢长了。十一点钟，我终于到了布尔吉瓦。

那座房子没有一间屋子的灯是亮着的，我按了门铃，可没有人应门，这还是我头一次遇到。后来，园丁出来开了门，于是我走了进去。娜妮娜拿着灯出来接我，我进了玛格丽特的卧室。

“夫人呢？”

“去巴黎了。”娜妮娜回答说。

“去巴黎了！？”

“是的，先生。”

“什么时候？”

“就在你走之后一个小时。”

“她没给我留什么话吗？”

“没有。”

娜妮娜留下我一个人在屋子里。

我想，她也许在怀疑什么，想亲自去巴黎确认一下我是否去见我父亲，她也许怀疑我去巴黎是想自己玩一天。我自己一个人在的时候，心想，或许普鲁登丝写信告诉她有什么重要的事情，可是我见过普鲁登丝，从和她的谈话来看，我一点没觉得她跟玛格丽特写过信啊。

我突然想起来我告诉杜维尔努瓦夫人玛格丽特身体不舒服时，她还问我：“她今天不来了吗？”她问这句话的时候，我看了看她，她当时看起来挺尴尬的样子，这足以说明她们应该约了要见面。而且，我也想起来，玛格丽特这几天一直眼泪哗哗、精神崩溃的样子，因为父亲态度的转变，我也几乎忘了之前发生的事情。想到这儿，我相信我的怀疑是有根据的。所有这一切，包括父亲对我态度的转变，让我无法不产生怀疑。

玛格丽特坚持要我去巴黎，我一提出要留下来陪她，她就假装心情平静。难道我被她骗了？玛格丽特在骗我吗？难道她本来打算及时回家，不让我发现她出去过，可又发生了什么意外使得她没法回家呢？为什么她什么也没跟娜妮娜交代就走了呢？而且为什么她一句话也没给我留就走了呢？她这几天一直哭是什么原因呢？她为什么会悄悄离开呢？这些一系列神神秘秘的事情又是怎么回事呢？

我独自待在这个空荡荡的房间里，惶恐不安地问自己这些问题。看了看墙上的钟，已经是半夜了，似乎在提醒我已经很晚了，玛格丽特今天是不会再回来了。可是，就在不久前，我们还规划了未来，她为我作出了牺牲，我也接受了，难道她在欺骗我？不！我尽量不去想我最初的怀疑。

也许她是找到了买她家具的买主，所以才去巴黎了结生意的。为了我们今后的幸福，我已经同意她卖了，可她不想提前告诉我，是因为她觉得还是会让我很难受，她怕再提起这件事，会伤及我的自尊，所以她决定办妥了事情再告诉我。显而易见，普鲁登丝就是在等她去处理这件事情，而且也不愿意透露任何信息。玛格丽特今天可能没有能处理完所有的事务，所以晚上在普鲁登丝家待着，也许她很快就会回来了，因为她一定知道我有多么担心她，肯定不会扔下我一个人在这儿的。可如果是这样，那她这几天为什么总是哭呢？毫无疑问，纵然她爱我，可要决心放弃一直来的奢侈生活，她到底还是舍不得的，毕竟她过惯了那样人人羡慕的幸福生活。我会原谅她的依依不舍，我焦急地等待她的归来，我要好好地吻她，并告诉她我猜到了她神秘出走的原因。

然而，夜更深了，玛格丽特还是没有回来。

我越来越担心，心急如焚，心里像是有块儿什么东西压着似的。我在想，她是不是出事了？受伤了？病了？死了？也许马上就会有人回来通知我什么噩耗，也许我将在这样的忧虑和惶恐中等到天亮了。

我提心吊胆地等待着她的归来，我再也没有想过她是否对我不忠，是否欺骗我的感情。一定有什么原因，她自己控制不了的原因，所以她才没有回来。我越想越觉得某种厄运即将到来。唉，人的虚荣心啊，真是百变金刚，总会找上门来！

一点的时钟敲响了，我心想再等她一个小时，如果两点钟她还不回来，我便动身去巴黎。于是我找了本书看，什么不敢多想。《玛侬·蕾丝科》摊开在桌上，书页上四处都是被泪水浸湿的痕迹。我翻了几页看了一会儿，然后又合上了。因为心里有事，所以根本看不进去。

时间慢慢地流逝，天空中乌云密布，屋外秋雨鞭打着窗户。空荡荡的床看上去像是一座坟墓，于是我心里害怕起来。

我打开门，听着，夜很静，只听见风吹树木瑟瑟的声音。路上一辆车也没有，只听见远处教堂凄凉的半点钟声。

此时此刻，我开始害怕有人进来。因为，在这样一个时刻，这样一个糟糕的天气，有人来的话，肯定不是什么好事。

凌晨两点。我还要再等一会儿，这时候只有单调规律的钟声来打破夜的寂静。

最后，我离开了她的卧室。此刻，内心的孤独和不安使得这间屋子整个被蒙上了一层惨淡的愁云。

隔壁屋里，娜妮娜干着活儿就睡着了。听到开门声，她醒了，问我是不是她的女主人回来了。

“没有。如果她回来了，告诉她我实在很担心她，所以我去巴黎了。”

“现在吗？”

“是的。”

“您怎么去呢？现在也叫不到车。”

“我走路去。”

“外面还下着雨呢。”

“没关系。”

“夫人会回来的，再说天亮了您再去也不迟啊，您这样走夜路太不安全了，会被人谋杀的。”

“没事儿的，亲爱的娜妮娜。明天见！”

好心的娜妮娜拿来了大衣，帮我披上，建议我去叫醒阿尔努德，看看她是否能帮我找辆车。不过我当没听见，因为我深信这是白费劲，什么也问不来，而且有时间在这儿折腾，我都赶了一半多的路了。再说，呼吸点新鲜空气再加上身体疲劳，能帮我缓解一下过度紧张的心情。

我带了昂坦大街上那座房子的钥匙，娜妮娜一直送我到铁栅栏门口。和她告别之后，我便上路了。

开始我是跑步前进的，可地上都是泥泞，不太好走，不一会儿我便觉得疲惫了。这样跑了半个小时，浑身都汗透了，我不得不停了下来。歇了一会儿，我又继续赶路。夜很黑，什么也看不见，我身怕撞上路边的树，那些大树高高地耸立在我眼前，活像是冲我而来的一个个高大的魔鬼。

我碰到了一两辆货车，很快我便把它们甩到后面去了。一辆四轮马车向布尔吉瓦方向疾驰而来，脑子里突然闪现一个想法，莫不是玛格丽特在里面吧。我停下脚步，开始大叫道：“玛格丽特！玛格丽特！”可是没有应答，马车还是继续赶着路。望着渐渐远去的马车，我继续赶我的路。我走了两小时，终于到了星行广场的栅栏门。看到了巴黎，我又觉得浑身是劲儿，于是我跑过了我过去常常走过的那条长长的路。

路上空无一人，感觉像在穿越一个死城。终于，天色渐亮，等我到达昂坦大街时，整个城市慢慢苏醒了，街上渐渐开始有了行人。我到达玛格丽特在昂坦大街上的家时，圣洛克教堂的大钟正敲响了五点。我把我的名字告诉了看门的人，他以前拿过我不少次二十法郎的硬币，他知道我清晨五点有权利拜访戈蒂埃小姐。所以，我这次也很轻松就进去了。我本来可以问问他玛格丽特是否在家，可他有可能说“不在”，所以我宁愿再等两分钟自己上去看，毕竟等待还是有希望的。

我先把耳朵贴在门上听了一会儿，想听出点动静来。可什么也没听见，屋里跟乡下一样寂静。于是我只好打开门进去了，窗帘都闭得严严实实。我穿过饭厅，朝卧室走去，推开了门，我蹦到窗帘绳跟前，用力一拉。窗帘开了，清晨一缕微光照亮了卧室，于是我冲到床跟前，发现什么也没有。

于是我挨个推开了房门，每间屋子查看了一遍，一个人也没有。我简直要发疯了！

我走进梳妆间，打开窗户，叫了普鲁登丝好几声，结果杜维尔努瓦夫人的窗户是紧闭着的。

我下楼去找看门的人，问他白天戈蒂埃小姐是否来过。

“是的，”门房说道，“和杜维尔努瓦夫人一起来的。”

“她没给我留什么话吗？”

“没有。”

“你知道她们后来干什么去了吗？”

“她们后来坐马车走了。”

“什么样的马车？”

“一辆私人的四轮马车。”

这到底怎么回事呢？

我按下了隔壁的门铃。

“有事儿吗，先生？”看门的人打开门问道。

“我找杜维尔努瓦夫人。”

“她还没回来。”

“确定吗？”

“是的，先生。这儿有她一封信，昨晚送来的，我还没交给她呢。”

看门人把信给我看了看，我瞟了一眼，便认出了是玛格丽特的笔迹。我接过信，信封上写着：“请杜维尔努瓦夫人转交给杜瓦尔先生”。

“这封信是给我的，”我指着信封上的名字对看门人说道。

“你就杜瓦尔先生吗？”看门人问道。

“是的。”

“啊，我想起来了，你以前常来杜维尔努瓦夫人家的。”

走到街上，我便打开了信。这一刻，看到这封信，简直比炸雷从我脚下滚过还要可怕！信的内容是这样的：

“阿尔芒，当你看到这封信的时候，我已经是别人的情人了，我们俩的关系结束了。

“回到你父亲身边吧，我的朋友，回到你妹妹身边，她是一个如此年轻、天真的女孩儿，对我们这些人的痛苦是全然不知的。你会很快忘记一个叫玛格丽特·戈蒂埃的女人所带给你的痛苦的。她曾经拥有过你的爱情，她一生中唯一的幸福日子都是你给她的，她希望她的生命早点结束。”

看到最后一句时，我简直要疯了！云里雾里地走在大街上，太阳穴一阵一阵地刺痛，一时间我真害怕晕倒在大街上。后来，我稍微清醒了一点，环顾四周，看到路上熙熙攘攘的人们，他们一点也不关心我的痛苦，我心里一震。

我自己简直难以忍受玛格丽特给我带来的打击。所以，想起父亲还在这座城市，我十分钟之内就能到他的住处，无论这种痛苦的原因是什么，他总是会替我分担一些的。

我像个疯子似的狂奔着，像个小偷似的逃跑着，一直跑到了巴黎宾馆。父亲的房门上插着钥匙，于是我进了门。父亲正在看书，见到我，他并不怎么奇怪，好像他本来就是在等我似的。我什么也没说就扑到他怀里，然后把玛格丽特的信给他看，任自己跪倒在他床前，热泪盈眶，不顾一切地哭了起来。

第二十三章

等一切平静下来，我相信将要迎接的黎明会跟之前的一样黑暗，一样孤寂。好些时候，我都在设想一些迫使我没法回去和玛格丽特一起过夜的情景。如果我回到布尔吉瓦，我又会看到她会跟我一样焦急地等待着我，而且她也会问我为什么会离开她那么长时间。

一个人总会养成一种习惯，比如说爱和被爱，要打破这种习惯，同时还不伤及其他，恐怕是不可能的。为了确信我不是在梦中，我只得常常把玛格丽特的信拿出来看看。

精神上的打击使得我的身体也垮了。心中的焦虑，走了一夜的路，早上的信，这一切让我身心疲惫。我父亲则是整场疲惫战中的获益者，他要我答应跟他走。我已经没有精力跟他争论什么，我答应了他所有的要求。在经历了这一切之后，我所需要的是一种真挚的感情来帮助我继续支撑下去。我非常感谢我的父亲，他愿意在我精神受到重创的时候来安慰我。

我唯一能记得的是，那天早上五点钟的样子，他带着我上了一辆驿车。一句话也没跟我说，他只叫人帮我收拾好行李，跟他的捆到一起，放在车的后面，然后带着我离开了。我完全不知道自己在干什么。等到我们的车远离巴黎，一路上的寂寞让我觉得心里空荡荡的，这时候我的眼泪又上来了。

我父亲很清楚，这时候他说什么也是徒劳，所以他什么也没说，任我放声哭泣，只是时常握住我的手，仿佛提醒我还有一个朋友在我身边。

到了晚上，我睡了一会儿，我梦见了玛格丽特。

我一下子醒来，完全不记得我为什么坐在车上。随后我又想起了这两天发生的事情，头又耷拉到了胸前。我什么也不敢跟父亲讲，怕他会说：“瞧，还是我说对了吧，这个女人根本不爱你。”可父亲没有这样说，回C城的路上只讲了些跟我突然离开巴黎的原因根本不相干的话，其他的只字未提。

回到家里，我拥抱着妹妹，想起玛格丽特信中谈到她的话。我立刻明白了，不管妹妹有多么好，她始终不能替代玛格丽特在我心中的位置。

狩猎的季节到了，父亲觉得是让我散心的好机会。于是他开始和邻居、朋友一起组织去打猎。我既不反对，也没热情，反正就是一副自离开巴黎后一贯的没精打采的样子。

我们进行围猎，他们叫我守在我的位置上，可我却卸下了子弹，把枪放在一旁，不由自主地沉思起来。看着白云飘过，任我的思绪在孤寂的原野上驰骋。我时常听到有人在叫我，告诉我离我十步之遥的地方有野兔什么的。所有这些都瞒不过我父亲，他不会因为我外表平静就相信我已经忘记了过去。父亲很清楚，不管我受到多大的打击，总有一天我会产生一种可怕的反应，可能还会有危险。无论如何，父亲看似不像在安慰我，可又尽量找机会让我分心，不再想以前的事。

我妹妹当然不知道发生了什么事情，她不知道为什么一个原本如此开朗的人突然变得整天愁眉苦脸、心神不宁。

我郁郁寡欢之时，惊奇地发现父亲忧虑不安地在一旁看着我，于是我握着他的手，似乎在请求他原谅我无意间给他带来的痛苦。

就这样过了一个月，但我再也不能忍受下去了。玛格丽特的样子不停地出现在我眼前，我以前很爱她，现在依然爱着她，根本不可能一下子就忘记。我要么爱她，要么恨她，无论如何，不管我怎么对她，我必须要再见她一面，立刻见！这个念头一直在我脑子里盘旋，这种顽强的意志在长时间沉默之后又重新燃起了我心中的欲火。

可我并不是想在一周之内或者一个月之内才去见玛格丽特，有了这样的念头之后的第二天就想见到她。于是我去找父亲，并告诉他我得去趟巴黎办点事，不过我会很快回家的。毋庸置疑，父亲猜到了我去的原因，因为他坚持要我别去，可看到我执意要去，如果不去，可能产生致命的后果，父亲还是答应了，可他紧紧地拥抱着我，流着眼泪恳求我尽快回家。

去巴黎的路上，我一直没有睡觉。到了巴黎，我要干些什么呢？我不知道。我只知道肯定和玛格丽特有关。那天天气很好，到得比较早，所以我先回到巴黎的家换了件衣服，然后我走到了香榭丽舍大街。大约过了半个小时，远远地我就看到了玛格丽特的马车从圆形广场向协和广场驶来。她的马车又买回来了，车还是跟以前一样，可她并不在车里。我一发现她不在马车上，我便很快四下里扫了一眼，果然看到一个我从未见过的女人陪着玛格丽特走了过来。

她经过我身旁的时候，脸色一下子发白，嘴唇紧咬，神情紧张，笑起来极不自然。此时，剧烈的心跳在胸口怦怦乱撞，最后我还是镇静了下来，冷冷地看了她一眼，我还是向我曾经的情人行礼打了个招呼，她立刻登上马车，和她朋友一起走了。

我了解玛格丽特，这种邂逅一定让她心神不宁。她一定知道我已经离开了巴黎，对我们分手之后所产生的后果她也放下了心。可是，今天又在巴黎见到我，跟她面对面走过，我的脸色是如此难看，她一定意识到了我回来一定是有目的的，她肯定在想我到底回来做什么。

如果我看到玛格丽特过得不快乐，为了报复她弃我而去，我倒是愿意给她帮助，我或许会原谅她，一定不会再伤害她。可我发现她显然是过得很开心，至少表面上是。某个人已经重新开始供养我所不能继续给她的奢侈生活。她和我分手是她利益熏心一手造成的，这简直辱没了我的自尊和我对她的爱，我决心让她为此付出代价。

我不能对她的所作所为置之不理，而最能让她感到痛苦的就是我的漠然。因此，在她面前，甚至在别人面前，我都得装作无所谓。

我强装笑颜，去找普鲁登丝。女佣叫我在客厅稍等片刻，她去通报。最后，杜维尔努瓦夫人出来了，叫我进了她的小会客室。我刚一坐下，突然听到客厅门开了，有人轻轻地穿过客厅，然后重重地关上前门走了。

“打扰你了，”我对普鲁登丝说。

“没什么。玛格丽特刚才在这儿，她听到是你来了，就悄悄走了，刚才是她在开门。”

“她现在害怕见我吗？”

“不。她怕你会讨厌她。”

“为什么？”我紧张地喘不过气来，接着若无其事地说道，“她离开我是为了重新得到她的马车，她的家具，还有她的钻石吧。她做得很对，我不怪她，今天我见到她了。”

“在哪儿？”普鲁登丝问道，她打量着我，仿佛在想坐在她面前的人是不是曾经那个爱得死去活来的我。

“香榭丽舍大街。她和另外一个女人，很漂亮。是谁呢？”

“长什么样？”

“一头卷曲的金发，身材苗条，蓝蓝的眼睛，长得很漂亮。”

“噢！是奥林普，她是长得很俏。”

“她现在和谁同居呢？”

“没准儿。”

“她住哪儿？”

“特隆克利特街……号，你想跟她吗？”

“不好说。”

“那玛格丽特呢？”

“要说我一点也不想她，那是假话，可我是一个在乎分手方式的人。玛格丽特如此轻描淡写地就和我分手了，我以前那么爱她，简直就是个傻瓜！当然，我以前确实爱她。”

你能想象我当时说话时的样子，额头上全是冷汗。

“她非常喜欢你，你知道的，她一直爱着你。今天她遇见你之后就直接来跟我说就是很好的证明。她来的时候，浑身颤抖，我以为她会晕过去。”

“那她都说了什么？”

“她说，‘他肯定会来找你的。’她恳求我请你原谅她。”

“我已经原谅她了，请你转告她。她是个善良的姑娘，不过，跟别人一样，我应该知道会有这样的结果。我很感激她，因为看到现在所发生的事情，我真要是和她一辈子在一起，也可以预料得到会有什么样的结果。我太荒唐了！”

“她会很高兴你接受她这么做的。亲爱的，她当时离开你是对的。她曾经答应要把家具卖给那个经纪人，那混蛋找到了她的债主，问她到底欠了多少债，那些债主害怕了，所以要在两天之内卖光她的东西。”

“那现在都还清了？”

“差不多吧。”

“谁出的钱呢？”

“N伯爵啊，亲爱的！有些人是故意趁虚而入的。长话短说，他给了她两万法郎，不过他终于如愿以偿了。他非常明白玛格丽特并不爱他，可不管怎么说，他对她还是很好的。你也看见了，他替她买回了马车，还替她赎回了首饰，而且给她的钱跟公爵一样多。如果她愿意过平静的生活，他愿意和她一直生活下去。”

“那她都做什么呢？一直待在巴黎吗？”

“你走之后，她没再回布尔吉瓦。她的所有东西还是我去帮她收拾的，还有你的。我都打了包，你可以派人上这儿来取，所有东西都在这儿，除了一个小皮夹子，里面有你名字的首字母。玛格丽特想自己留着，如果你想要，我去叫她还回来。”

“让她留着吧。”我哽咽地说道。一想起我和玛格丽特在乡下度过的幸福日子，想到她还愿意保留我的东西，心里面就不是滋味儿，眼泪就不打一处上来了。她要是现在推门进来，我的复仇心理肯定一下子就烟消云散了，而且会一头跪倒在她面前。

“而且，”普鲁登丝接着说道，“我也没见她像现在这个样子，她几乎不怎么睡觉了，她四处参加舞会，吃夜宵，还常常喝酒。前几天，她吃完夜宵之后，在床上躺了一周，医生刚说可以下床，她就不要命似的又去吃喝玩乐了。你要去看看她吗？”

“有必要吗？我是来看你的，你一直对我很好，我认识你比认识玛格丽特还早。要不是你帮忙，我还做不成她的情人，同样还是多亏了你，我才做不成她的情人，对吧？”

“唉，我尽力劝她离开你，不过我相信你以后会感激我的。”

“这样我得加倍感激你了。”我起身又说道。我厌恶这个女人，她还真把我的话当真了。

“你要走？”

“是的。”

我知道得够多了。

“那你什么时候再来？”

“应该很快吧，再见！”

“再见！”

普鲁登丝送我到门口，我回到家里，满腔愤怒，泪如泉涌，复仇的愿望又上了心头。

这样说来，玛格丽特和别的妓女一样啊，尽管我们感情很深，可是她也没抵制住过去奢侈生活的诱惑，她还是想要马车，想要过以前风光的生活。晚上我睡不着，我一直这么想着。我要是真的像装出来的那么平静，我应该看得出来玛格丽特重新回到这种混乱不堪的生活是为了驱散心中一直存在的念想和一段难以忘怀的回忆。不幸的是，邪恶的欲望一直纠缠着我，此刻，我只是在想怎么样去报复那个可怜的女人。唉，男人狭隘的情感在受到伤害的时候，显得是多么卑鄙无耻啊！

我见到的那个奥林普，若不是玛格丽特的朋友，至少也是她回巴黎之后来往最密切的人。奥林普要举办一次舞会，我想玛格丽特肯定会参加的，所以我努力想得到一张请柬，最后果然弄到了。

我怀着痛苦的心情来到了舞会，已经是人声鼎沸。人们都跳着舞，还有人大声叫喊着。到了一只四组舞曲，我看见玛格丽特和N伯爵正跳着，N伯爵似乎在炫耀着自己的舞伴，仿佛在对在场的人说：“瞧！这个女人是我的！”

我背靠着壁炉，正好面对着玛格丽特，看着她跳舞。她一看见我，脸色立变，我随便瞟了她一眼，挥手打了个招呼。

当我想到舞会之后，陪她回家的不是我，而是那个有钱的蠢货，还有回家之后可能会发生的事情时，我的脸一下子涨红了起来，我觉得有必要干点什么事情来破坏他们的关系。

在四组舞之后，女主人在宾客面前半裸着诱人的胸脯和性感的肩膀，我走上前去跟她打招呼。她非常漂亮，就身材来说，比玛格丽特身材还好。我跟奥林普讲话的时候，从玛格丽特看她的眼神，我更明白了这一点。做了她的情人，这个男人就会跟N伯爵拥有玛格丽特一样，而且这个女人的姿色足以激起我对玛格丽特那样的情欲。当时她还没有情人，而且要做她的情人并不难，只要愿意摆阔，就能吸引她的注意。

我决心让这女人成为我的情人。

我开始和她跳舞。半个小时之后，玛格丽特脸色惨白，像个死人，然后穿上皮大衣，离开了舞会。

第二十四章

这已经让她够受的了，可是还不够。我知道我能控制这个女人，可是我猥琐地利用了这种能力。

如今想到她已经死了，我扪心自问，上帝是否会宽恕我让她所受的痛苦。

夜宵时热闹非凡，夜宵后开始赌钱。我坐在奥林普的旁边，大胆地下着赌注，这不能不引起她的注意。不一会儿，我便赢了一两百个路易，我将赢来的钱堆在我面前，她贪婪地盯着桌上的钱。

我是唯一一个没把心思全放在赌桌上的人，我是想引起她的注意。整个晚上我一直在赢钱，她却输光了她面前的所有钱，也许家里的也输光了，于是我给她钱玩。

早上五点钟，赌客们都散了。我赢了三百路易。

所有的赌客都已经下了楼，我走在最后，因为我不认识其他人，所以也没人注意我。奥林普亲自照亮送客，我正要跟着别人一起走的时候，突然转身对她说道：

“我想跟你谈谈。”

“明天吧。”她说。

“不，就现在。”

“你要说什么？”

“你马上就会知道的。”

我又走回了房间。

“你输光了。”我说道。

“是的。”

“家里的也输光了？”

她犹豫了一下，没有回答。

“说实话吧。”

“那好吧，你说得对。”

“我赢了三百路易，如果你愿意留我过夜的话，这些都给你了。”

于是我把钱扔到了桌上。

“你为什么提出这样的要求？”

“当然因为我爱你啰。”

“不！因为你爱玛格丽特，你想做我的情人来报复她。我是不会受骗的，亲爱的朋友。不幸的是，我太年轻、太漂亮了，不适合接受你要我扮演的角色。”

“那你是拒绝了？”

“是的。”

“难道你宁愿什么也不要吗？我是不会接受的。想想，亲爱的奥林普，如果我派人送来三百路易，也许这样你会接受的。可我宁愿当面跟你谈。接受我吧，别问什么原因。你说你长得漂亮，那我爱上你也不是什么稀奇的事。”

玛格丽特跟奥林普一样，都是妓女，可我第一次跟她见面是无论如何也不敢对她说这样的话的，我爱玛格丽特。我看出了玛格丽特跟这个女人的不同。就在我跟她谈交易的时候，我还是非常讨厌眼前的这个女人。

当然，她最后还是接受了。中午，从她家出来的时候，我已经成了她的情人。为了我给她的六千法郎，她不得不好好跟我亲热一番，说些肉麻的话，可我一离开她，所有那些艳事立即抛之脑后了。然而，也有人为她倾家荡产的。

从这一天起，我无时无刻不在折磨着玛格丽特。奥林普和她断绝了来往，原因也是可想而知的。我给我的新情人买了一辆马车和一些首饰。我赌钱，像一个爱上奥林普的男人一样，我干了许多过分甚至荒唐的事情，于是我又有了新情人的消息很快传开了。

普鲁登丝也相信了，以为我真得彻底忘了玛格丽特。玛格丽特自己呢，要么她猜到了我的动机，要么她跟别人一样被蒙骗了。对于我每天对她的侮辱，她还是保持着一分自尊。只是，她似乎很痛苦，每当我遇见她，发现她的脸色一次比一次难看，一次比一次悲伤。我对她的爱此时已经转变成了恨。看到她每天痛苦的样子，我心里就说不出的高兴。好几次，我残忍地折磨她时，玛格丽特竟然用哀求的目光看着我，看到我自己都觉得脸红，我都准备要请求她原谅了。

可我的内疚很快就消失了。奥林普最后放下了所有的自尊，发现只要惹恼玛格丽特，她就能从我这儿得到她想要的，所以她就不断挑起我对玛格丽特的仇恨。一有机会，她便凌辱玛格丽特，活像一个有男人撑腰的女人，手段卑劣。

终于，玛格丽特放弃了参加各种舞会，也不再去看戏了，害怕碰见我和奥林普。当面凌辱没了机会，于是就改成了写匿名信。只要是不光彩的事，我就纵容我的情妇出去散布消息，都算在玛格丽特身上，我自己也四处说。

只有疯子才会干出这种事情来！我简直像是一个喝烂酒的醉汉，极度抽风，手上在犯罪，可脑子里还没意识到。其实，在干这些事的时候，我自己也在经受着煎熬。面对这一系列打击，玛格丽特表现得平静而不蔑视，自尊而不傲慢。这让我觉得她比我高明，于是我更加生她的气。

一天晚上，奥林普不知道去了哪儿碰到了玛格丽特，这次玛格丽特没有放过这个愚蠢的家伙，结果一片混乱中她不得不退让。奥林普怒气冲冲地回来，玛格丽特则是昏厥之后被人送回了家。奥林普跟我讲了事情的经过，她说玛格丽特看见她是一个人，便开始报复她，因为她是我的情人，奥林普叫我必须写信告诉她，不管我在不在场，她都要尊重我爱的女人。

不用说，我答应了。我把能想到的所有尖酸刻薄、挖苦讽刺、羞辱她的话都写进了这封信，并当天就派人给她送了过去。

这次打击对她来说太大了，可怜的玛格丽特不能再默默忍受下去了。我猜她会回信的，所以我一天都没出门。两点钟的样子，普鲁登丝来了。

我尽量故作什么事情也没发生的样子，问她来找我有什么事。可那天杜维尔努瓦夫人脸上一丝笑容也没有，她激动地对我说，我回巴黎三周以来，抓住一切机会折磨玛格丽特，她已经彻底崩溃了。昨晚上发生的事情和今天我骂她的信已经气得她卧床不起了。总之，玛格丽特并没有责备我，只是托普鲁登丝来求情，求我别再折磨她了，她的身体和精神再也经受不起这种痛苦。

“戈蒂埃小姐，”我对普鲁登丝说道，“把我赶出她的家，这很正常，可她侮辱我爱的女人，还借口说这个女人是我的情妇，这是我绝对不允许的。”

“我的朋友，”普鲁登丝说道，“你是被那个没头没脑、没心没肺的女人迷住了，你爱她，我相信，可这不能成为欺辱一个弱女子的理由吧。”

“让戈蒂埃把N伯爵打发走，就算扯平了。”

“你知道她不会的。所以，阿尔芒，你随她去吧。你要是见到她，你会感到惭愧的。她现在脸色惨白，总是咳嗽，她活不了多久了。”

普鲁登丝向我伸过手来，然后又说道：

“来看看她吧，她会非常高兴的。”

“我不想看到N伯爵。”

“N伯爵绝对不会在她家的，她受不了他。”

“如果玛格丽特想见我，她知道我住哪儿，让她来找我好了，我是不再想踏上昂坦街一步了。”

“那你会好好接待她吗？”

“当然。”

“好，我相信她会来的。”

“让她来吧。”

“你今天出去吗？”

“我晚上都在家。”

“我会转告她的。”

普鲁登丝走了。

我甚至都没有跟奥林普写信，叫她别等我了，我对她是没什么兴趣的，一周难得跟她过一夜。我相信她会安慰自己的，随便从戏院找个演员什么的就行了。

我出去吃了晚饭，很快回到了家，我把卧室生起了火，然后把约瑟夫打发走了。

我无法告诉你我在等待的那一个小时的复杂心情，我是多么的激动。快到九点时，听到有人按了门铃，此时我百感交集，几乎不能站立，以至于我去开门的时候，不得不扶着墙走，生怕跌倒。

幸好会客室的光线比较暗，几乎看不清我脸色的变化。

玛格丽特进来了。

她穿着一身黑衣服，罩着面纱，我几乎认不出面纱下面的脸。她走进客厅，撩开了面纱，她的脸跟大理石一样苍白。

“我来了，阿尔芒，”她说，“你想见我，所以我来了。”

随后，她双手捂着脸，痛哭起来。

“怎么了？”我低声对她说。

她紧紧握着我的手，什么也没说，因为她已经泣不成声了。几分钟过后，她稍微平静了一些，然后对我说道：

“你对我太残忍了，阿尔芒，我没有什么对不起你呀。”

“没做什么？”我苦笑着说道。

“除了被迫做的事情，我没什么对不起你啊。”

我一看到玛格丽特所产生的感觉，我不知道你是否有过这种经历，或者将来会不会有。

她上一次来我家就是坐在她现在坐的那个地方。只不过从此以后，她已经成了别人的情人，她的嘴唇从此属于别人了，从此有别人来吻她了。可是，今天我还是情不自禁地把嘴唇凑了上去，我觉得我还是爱她的，也许比以前还要爱。

然而，我也讲不清为什么会叫她来我家，玛格丽特知道我的意思，她继续说道：

“给你添麻烦了，阿尔芒，我来想求你两件事情：请原谅我昨天对奥林普小姐说的话，另外，求你别再想办法折磨我了，放过我吧。不管你是不是故意的，自从你回到巴黎，我就没有过过一天轻松的日子，我实在是受不了了，哪怕是迄今为止的四分之一我也无法承受了，你会同情我的，对吧？而且你会明白，像你这样一个心肠好的男人还有很多更有意义的事情要干，何必整天想报复我这样一个疾病缠身、痛苦不堪的女人呢。瞧瞧我的手吧，我在发烧啊。我下床来找你，不是想求你重拾友谊，而是希望你忘了我吧。”

我拉着玛格丽特的手，烧得很厉害，可怜的玛格丽特裹着皮毛大衣浑身都还在发抖。

我把她坐着的扶手椅推到了火炉边。

“你以为我就不痛苦吗？”我说，“那天晚上我在乡下等你，后来又走回巴黎找你，可什么也没找到，只发现你那封简直让我发疯的信！玛格丽特，我以前多爱你啊！你怎么能欺骗我呢？”

“别说了，阿尔芒，我不是来谈这些的。我只希望我们见面不要跟仇人似的，不过我还想再握一次你的手，你已经有情人了，她年轻、漂亮，他们说你爱她，祝你们幸福，忘了我吧。”

“你呢，你一定很幸福了吧？”

“你从我脸上看得出来吗，阿尔芒？别再拿我开玩笑了，你比谁都清楚我为什么痛苦，我有多么痛苦。”

“要是真跟你说的一样，那你可以改变啊。”

“不，我的朋友。再强的意志也斗不过命运。我认了，我本来就是个妓女，你好像也这么认为，可我不得不这么做，总有一天你会明白的，你到时候会明白我的一番苦心的。”

“为什么不现在就告诉我呢？”

“就算现在告诉你，我们也无法重归于好，也许还会让你疏远你不该疏远的人。”

“你什么意思？”

“没什么。”

“你没说实话。”

玛格丽特起身朝门口走去。我不能眼睁睁看着她的沉默和痛苦而不动容，想当初第一次在戏剧剧院遇见她时是多么光彩照人，那时她还嘲笑我，可如今却是面容憔悴、疾病缠身、痛苦不堪。

“你不能走，”我走到门口拦着她说道。

“为什么？”

“因为，不管你怎么对我，我依然爱你，我想你留下来。”

“为了明天再赶我走吗？不！这不可能！我们的缘分已经尽了，别再想和好如初了。那样你只会看不起我，而现在你只是恨我。”

“不，玛格丽特，”我大声嚷道，看到她，我所有的爱，所有的欲望又复苏了，“不，我不会忘记的，我们还会像过去相许的那样幸福的。”

玛格丽特疑惑地摇了摇头说道：

“我不就是你的奴隶，你的狗么？你想怎么样就怎么样吧，拿去吧，我是你的。”

她脱下大衣，摘下帽子，全都扔到了沙发上。然后很快解她上衣的扣子。由于她的病，常常血一下子冲向脑袋，她几乎喘不过气来，接着她开始一阵干咳。

“叫人去跟车夫讲，”她说，“让他把马车驾回去。”

我自己下楼把车夫打发走了。我回到屋子，玛格丽特正躺在火炉跟前，冷得她牙齿咯咯发抖。

我抱着她，给她脱了衣服，她一动不动，浑身冰凉，然后我把她抱上了床。然后，我坐在她身旁，尽力用我的爱来给她温暖。她一句话也没说，只是冲我微笑。

真是一个奇妙的夜晚！玛格丽特使出浑身的力量疯狂地吻我。我太爱她了，以至于跟她极度缠绵的时候，我曾想是不是要杀掉她，让她永远不再属于别人。

一个人的精神或者肉体这样相爱一个月的话，恐怕就只剩下一个躯壳了。

天亮了，我们都醒了。玛格丽特脸色灰白。她还是一言不发。时不时地，大滴大滴的眼泪从她的眼眶滚落在她的脸庞，像钻石一样闪闪发光。她时不时张开瘦削的胳膊紧紧地抱着我，可又无力地垂落到了床上。

我曾一度想忘记离开布尔吉瓦之后所发生的一切，于是我对玛格丽特说：

“你愿意跟我离开巴黎吗？”

“不！不！”她恐惧地说道：“我们不会幸福的。我不能再给你幸福了。不过，只要我还有一口气，你想怎么样就怎么样吧，我愿意当你的奴隶。不管是白天还是晚上，只要你想，我就是你的。不过，不要想我们有将来，这不但不会让你幸福，而且我也不会快乐。我现在还算漂亮，好好利用吧，不过别对我抱别的希望。”

她离开之后，我感到寂寞，心里害怕。两个小时之后，我还坐在她刚才一直躺着的床边，一面凝视着她的头在枕头上压下的印儿，一面想着我在爱情和嫉妒之间会变成什么样子。

五点钟，我上昂坦街去了，完全不知道自己要做什么。

娜妮娜给我开了门。

“夫人不能接待您，”她尴尬地说道。

“为什么？”

“因为N伯爵在，他吩咐不让任何人进去。”

“是啊，”我支支吾吾地说道，“我都忘了。”

我像个醉鬼似的回到家里，我嫉妒地快疯了，你知道我后来干了什么事情吗？我不久之后便干了一件卑鄙的事情，你知道我干什么了吗？我猜想那个女人正在嘲笑我，她和那个伯爵单独在一起，正对那个蠢货讲着晚上跟我在一起时讲的话，于是我拿了一张五百法郎的钞票给她送了过去，并附言：

“你走得如此匆忙，以至于忘了付钱给你。这些是你一晚上的费用。”

信送出去之后，我就出门了，仿佛想逃避我的卑劣行径所产生的内疚感。

我到了奥林普家，她正在试穿衣服。我们俩人单独在的时候，她就唱些低俗歌曲给我解闷。她简直是个不知廉耻、薄情寡义、没有脑子的典型妓女，至少我是这么认为的，不过也许别的男人会像我欣赏玛格丽特一样欣赏她那种人。她问我要钱，我给她了，于是我就可以走了，最后我回了家。

玛格丽特没有回信。

不用告诉你第二天我是多么紧张你也知道。九点半的样子，信差给我送来了一封信，里面装着我那封信和那张五百法郎的钞票，此外一个字也没有。

“是谁给你这封信的？”我问信差。

“一位夫人，她和她的侍女一起到布洛涅去了，她吩咐我，等她的车驶出庭院之后，再给您送信。”

我冲向玛格丽特家。

“夫人今天六点就去英国了，”门房说。

巴黎没有什么值得我留恋的了，既没了恨，也没了爱。接二连三的打击已经让我身心疲惫。我一个朋友要去东方旅行，于是我告诉父亲我想跟他一起去，父亲给我一些汇票和介绍信，八九天之后，我们在马赛上了船。

在亚历山大，我从一个曾经在玛格丽特家里见过的大使那儿得知她已经病得很严重了。

于是我给她写了封信，她也给我回了信，我是在土伦收到她的信的。

于是我立刻启程，剩下的事情你都知道了。

现在你看看朱莉·杜普拉特转交给我的那些日记吧，这些是对我的讲述的必要补充。

第二十五章

阿尔芒讲整个故事的时候，经常因为哭泣而中断。他讲得太累了，把玛格丽特亲手写的日记交给我之后，他便用双手捂住额头，闭上了眼睛，仿佛在思索着什么，抑或是想睡觉。几分钟后，便听见他急促的呼吸声了，阿尔芒睡着了，可他睡得很轻，稍微有点声音就会惊醒他的。

以下就是日记的内容，我一字不漏地摘抄了下来：

今天是十二月十五日，我已经病了三四天了。今天早上我躺在床上。外面天气很阴沉，我的心情很糟糕，身边却一个人也没有。我想你，阿尔芒。我写字的时候，你在哪儿啊？听说你离开了巴黎，去了很远很远很远的地方，也许你早就忘了玛格丽特。总之，祝你幸福！我一生最快乐的时光是你给我的。

我再也不能忍受了，我要跟你讲讲我过去对你的所作所为。其实我已经给你写了一封信，可像我这样的女人写的信，很可能有人说我在撒谎。除非我死了，也许死亡会使这封信神圣化。其实算不上是一封信，算是忏悔书吧。

我现在病了，也许会病死，我已经预感到我活不久了。我的母亲是因肺病死的，这病是她给我留下的唯一遗产，加上我过去的生活习惯，病只会越来越严重。可我不想就这么悄悄地死了，我想跟你澄清一些事实。等你回来，你还依然爱着那个你离开之前一直爱着的姑娘的话，麻烦你关心一下吧。

下面就是信的内容，为了给我的辩解提供新的证明，我愿意再写一遍。

阿尔芒，还记得我们还在布尔吉瓦的时候，你父亲到来的消息把我们惊了一跳吧？还记得你父亲的到来引起我不由自主的恐惧吧？还记得你那天晚上跟我讲你和你父亲之间发生的事情吧？

第二天，你在巴黎一直等着你父亲，可他没回去。一个男子来到我家，交给了我一封杜瓦尔先生的信。

这封信我附在后面。他很严肃地叫我第二天找个借口把你打发走，他说要和我谈谈，而且特别嘱咐我不要告诉你。

你现在明白我为什么坚持要你第二天回巴黎了吧。

你走了一个小时之后，你父亲就来了。他那严厉的样子给我的印象，我就不提了。你父亲满脑子旧观念，他认为妓女都寡情薄义、不长脑子，就是一台捞金的机器。像机器一样，不分青红皂白伤害给她一切的手，然后再压得粉碎，根本对保养她的人没有一点感情。

你父亲给我的信非常客气，想来是为了让我见他吧，可他来了之后却不是那么客气。谈话一开始，他便态度强硬、傲慢无礼、甚至还威胁我，以至于我不得不让他明白这是在我家里，要不是对他儿子感情真诚，我才不会跟他汇报我的私人生活呢。

过了一会儿，杜瓦尔先生平静了一些，可他还是继续说他不允许他儿子为了我弄得倾家荡产。还说我长得漂亮没错，可无论我多么漂亮，我不应该挥霍无度，不应该利用自己的姿色引诱一个年轻人毁了自己的前程。

关于这个，我只能做一件事，那就是证明自从我做你的情人以来，我为了对你忠贞，又不想向你要更多的钱，我不惜一切牺牲。于是我给他看了当票，还有卖掉一些不能典当的东西的收据。我还跟他说，为了跟你在一起，同时又不想你有过重的经济负担，我决定卖掉我的家具来还债。我告诉他跟你在一起很幸福，还有你曾经给我讲的幸福平淡的生活，他最后终于明白了，于是跟我握手，请我原谅他开始时对我耍的态度。

然后他对我说：

“夫人，现在不是指责或者威胁你，而是我求你，求你为我儿子作出更大的牺牲吧。”

一听到这话，我不禁浑身一颤。

“我的孩子，请你别往坏处想，不过你要记住，有时候，现实对于理想来说是残酷的，但没办法，你必须要接受。你是个好姑娘，你的慷慨是很多女人不具备的，那些也许看不起你的女人可能还不及你。可是你想想，除了情人，还有家庭，除了爱情，还有责任啊。一个人在经历了充满激情的年代之后，要走到受人尊敬的阶段，要得到别人的尊敬，自己就必须得混得个稳固的位置。我的儿子没有财产，而且他准备把从他母亲那儿继承来的财产转赠给你。如果他接受了你为他作出的牺牲，他的荣誉和尊严会促使他把这笔财产赠给你作为回报的。这笔财产能保证你的基本生活，可是他不能接受你的牺牲，因为不了解你的人会误解，以至于败坏我家的门风。那些人可不管阿尔芒爱不爱你，也不会管你爱不爱他，更不会管你们相爱对他来说是不是幸福，对你来说是不是重新做人的机会。那些人只会看到一点，那就是阿尔芒·杜瓦尔竟允许一个妓女——孩子，请原谅，我不得不这么说——为了他变卖她所有财产。相信我，不管是你还是别人，以后除了指责和懊悔，别的什么也没有，到时候你们俩就像被套上了挣不开的枷锁。那时候你们怎么办呢？你们的青春已经不再，我儿子的前途也被毁了，我，他的父亲，本应该得到两个孩子的回报，到时候却只剩下一个了。

“你年轻、漂亮，生活会给你带来安慰的。你是伟大的，做一件好事能赎清你过去的许多罪孽。阿尔芒才认识你六个月，就已经忘了自己的父亲，我给他写了四封信，可他一封也没回，我就是死了，他也不知道啊！

“阿尔芒那么爱你，不管你下决心怎样改变过去的生活，他也绝对不会指责你花他那点钱，他也不会让你过苦日子的，毕竟你长得如此美貌，也不适合过苦日子。谁知道他到时候会干出什么事来呢！我知道他已经开始赌博了，我也知道他没跟你讲过，可他很有可能脑子一热就输掉部分我多年的积蓄，我那些钱还要给我女儿办嫁妆，还有阿尔芒的，还有我安度晚年的钱以及以防不备之需等等。

“另外，你敢保证你不会留恋你所放弃的生活吗？你敢保证你爱他，以后不会再爱别人吗？随着年龄增长，爱情的幻想慢慢会消失，取而代之的是追求事业的雄心壮志，到时候你们的爱情生活将会面临无法逾越的障碍，而你却无力安慰他，到时候你会受得了吗？想想吧，小姐，你爱阿尔芒，就只能用一种方式来证明你爱他，那就是牺牲你的爱情来成全他的事业。现在还没有发生什么不幸的事，可保不齐以后不发生，也许以后发生的事儿比我预想的还要大。阿尔芒可能会嫉妒一个爱你的人，他会向他挑衅，会和他角斗，最后可能被杀死。你想想，到那时候，在一个要求你为他儿子的死负责的父亲面前，你多痛苦啊！

“最后，亲爱的孩子，我要全部告诉你，我还没说完我为什么来巴黎。我有个女儿，你知道的，她年轻、漂亮，像天使一样纯洁。她恋爱了，而且她快结婚了，我都写信告诉阿尔芒了，可他那会儿心思全在你身上，他根本没给我回信。现在我的女儿要结婚了，她要嫁给她心爱的男人，她将要走进一个体面的家庭，人家要求门当户对。我未来的女婿知道了阿尔芒在巴黎的行为，就跟我说，如果阿尔芒继续这样的生活，他们就取消婚约。一个姑娘的命运就掌握在你手中了，她没有冒犯过你啊，她有权利追求自己的幸福啊。你有权利去破坏他们吗？你忍心吗？玛格丽特，既然你爱阿尔芒，既然你愿意赎罪，那么请求你把幸福还给我的孩子吧。”

我只能默默地哭泣，我的朋友，这一切曾经总是烦扰我的事情，现在被你父亲说出来，那更是只能说明是严酷的现实了。我心里想着你父亲很多次想说可又咽下去的话：毕竟，我只是个妓女，无论我们多么有理，看起来似乎只是我自己为自己打算，我的过去已经不允许我去幻想未来，所以我必须对我过去的生活和名声负责。不管怎么说，我爱你，阿尔芒。

杜瓦尔先生像父亲跟孩子讲话的口吻，我对他的感情是纯洁的，我希望赢得老人的尊敬，我相信以后也会得到你的尊敬，所有这一切激起了我高尚的想法，让我的境界得到了提升，让我感到一种从未有过的神圣与自豪。当我想到，有一天，这个当初为了他儿子的前途来恳求我的老人会告诉她的女儿为一个神秘的朋友祈祷，这时候的我似乎已经是重获新生了，而且我内心也无比自豪。

也许一时的狂热夸大了事实，可这些的确是我所想，我的朋友，想到这些，曾经和你一起度过的美好日子也就烟消云散了。

“告诉我，先生，”我一面擦眼泪一面对你父亲说，“您相信我爱您的儿子吗？”

“相信。”杜瓦尔先生说。

“是无私的爱吗？”

“当然。”

“我对他的爱曾经是我活着的希望、梦想和慰藉，您知道吗？”

“当然。”

“那么，先生，像吻你女儿那样吻吻我吧。我向您发誓，这个我所得到的唯一纯洁的吻会战胜我的爱情，一周之内，你儿子就会回到你身边，也许他会不高兴一阵儿，可他永远得救了。”

“你是个伟大的姑娘，”你父亲吻了我一下额头，回答说，“你要做的是一件崇高的事情，上帝会回报你的。可我很担心的是，你可能没办法应付我儿子。”

“噢，别担心，先生，他会恨我的。”

为了我，也为了你，我们之间必须得设置一道不可逾越的障碍。

于是我写信给普鲁登丝，说我接受N伯爵的要求，并叫她告诉N伯爵我要和他们俩一起吃夜宵。我封好信，也没跟你父亲说写的什么，我请他到巴黎之后叫人按地址把这封信送过去。

他问我里面写的什么。

“你儿子的幸福啊。”我说。

你父亲再次拥抱了我。我感到几滴感激的眼泪滚落到了我的额头上，就像是对我过去的罪孽的洗礼。在我同意委身于另一个男人时，想到我用这个新错误所赎回的东西，却使我露出了自豪的容光。

这是很自然的感情流露，阿尔芒。你跟我讲过你父亲是世界上最诚实正直的人。

杜瓦尔先生上了马车，回了巴黎。

可我毕竟是个女人，我再见到你时，我情不自禁地哭了，可我没有动摇我的决心。

我现在躺在病床上，也许到死才能离开这张床，我在想，我做得对吗？

离我们分手的日子越来越近时，你的父亲早已不在我身边支持我了，我的感受你是亲眼见到的。一想到你会恨我，看不起我，我多害怕啊！所以好些时候我都想全部告诉你算了。

有一件事情你可能不会相信，阿尔芒，我只好请求上帝赐给我力量。如果上帝赐给了我力量，那么就证明上帝接受了我作出的牺牲。

夜宵期间，我还是需要有人帮助，因为我不想去想我要做的事情，我多么害怕我会失去勇气啊！有谁会想到我玛格丽特·戈蒂埃在想到又有一个新情人时，竟会如此悲伤？我借酒消愁，喝得酩酊大醉，第二天醒来，我发现自己躺在伯爵身边。

这就是全部事实，我的朋友。你自己来评判吧。原谅我吧，就像我已经原谅了你那天之后对我的无数折磨一样。

第二十六章

在那决定你我命运的一夜之后所发生的事情，你都知道了。可是你不知道，也想象不到的是，我们分手之后我所经受的痛苦。

我听说你父亲把你带走了，可我相信你不会离开我多长时间的。在香榭丽舍大街碰到你，我很激动，可我并不惊讶。

接着就是接二连三的痛苦日子。那些天里，你每天都会想尽办法侮辱我，不过我都高兴地接受了，因为这证明了你还爱我，而且你越是想办法折磨我，等到你知道真相那天，你越会觉得我崇高。

不要对我这种快乐的牺牲精神感到奇怪，阿尔芒，你给我的爱情已经为我打开了一扇通往高尚境界的大门。

可我不是很快就如此坚强的。

在我跟你分手到你回巴黎期间有很长一段时间，我为了不让自己发疯，只好回到过去的生活，用肉体上的疲劳来麻醉自己。普鲁登丝跟你说过，是吧？我每天去参加各种舞会和宴会。这样放荡的生活之后，我真希望自己赶紧死掉，我想这个愿望不久就可以实现了。我的身体越来越糟糕了。我请杜维尔努瓦夫人来跟你求情时，我的身体和精神都已经彻底崩溃了。

阿尔芒，我不想再重提，在我最后一次向你证明我对你的爱时，你是怎么回报我的，你是怎么折腾一个垂死的女人离开巴黎的。这个快要死去的女人在听到你要她陪他一夜的时候，她无法拒绝，她像个傻瓜一样，以为那一夜能将他们的过去和现在重新连接起来。你有权利做你自己想做的，阿尔芒，别人跟我过夜不会给那么高价钱的！

于是我抛弃了一切。奥林普替代我跟N先生做了情人，我听说她跟他说了我离开巴黎的原因。G伯爵在伦敦，他跟我这样的女人在一起，只不过是把这种关系看作一种找乐消遣罢了。他跟和他有过来往的女人都保持朋友关系，既不恨她们，也不会吃醋的。他就是一个阔佬，他只会向我们展示心灵的一角，不过钱包倒是随时敞开的。所以我立刻想到了他，然后便去伦敦找他，他非常友好地接待了我，不过他在那儿有一个情妇，而且是上流社会的女人，他担心我跟他在一起的事情传出去对他不好，所以他便把我介绍给了他的朋友，他们请我吃了夜宵，然后其中一个人便带我回家了。

我还能做什么呢，我的朋友？自杀吗？这可能给你本来幸福快乐的生活平添烦恼，再说也没必要，我本来也快死了，一个快死的人自杀有什么意义吗？

我已经没有了灵魂，只剩下躯壳了，成了一个完全没有思想的东西了。我就那样机械般地生活了一段时间。随后我又回到了巴黎，打听你的消息，我才知道你长途旅行去了。我已经没法生活下去，所以只好又回到了认识你以前的生活，于是我努力想挽回公爵的心。可我以前太伤他的心了，而且老人意识到他们不可能长生不老，所以也没那么好耐心。我的病日益严重，我脸色苍白，极度悲伤，身子越来越消瘦。购买爱情的男人是要先验货色的，巴黎比我健康、比我丰满的女人多的是，我几乎被大家忘记了。以上这些都是昨天以前发生的事情。

我现在病得很严重。我写信给公爵问他要些钱，因为我完全没钱了，而且债主都来要债，他们一点同情心也没有，带着欠条逼我还债。公爵会给我回信吗？阿尔芒，你为什么不在巴黎啊？你要是在的话，你会来看我的，你来看我，我会觉得好受点的。

今天天气非常糟糕。外面下着雪，我自己一个人在家。我已经高烧三天了，没法给你写信。没有什么新闻，我的朋友。我每天都在妄想能收到你的信，可终究是不会有的。只有男人才那么铁石心肠，不会宽恕别人。公爵也没有给我回信。

普鲁登丝又开始上当铺了。

我一直在咳血。唉！你要是见到我，你会替我难过的。你现在享受着温暖的阳光，不像我，胸膛正在经受严冬的考验。今天我起来了一会儿，站在窗前看了看外面，看着窗外巴黎的生活，我跟这样的生活已经彻底无关了。看到几个熟悉的人匆匆地走过，他们脸上洋溢着欢乐，无忧无虑的样子，可没有人抬眼看看我的窗户。不过有几个年轻人来看过我。以前我生病的时候，那时候你除了第一次见面被我无礼嘲笑了一番，你还不了解我，可你每天早上都来打听我的病情。我们在一起六个月，我把一个女人所有的爱都给了你，可你现在却在很远的地方，诅咒我，我却听不到一句安慰的话。我相信这是命运的安排，让你离开我，因为你要是在巴黎，你不会丢下我不管的。

十二月二十日

我的医生让我不要每天写信。确实是，回忆过去会让我烧得更厉害。不过昨天我收到了一封信，倒是一封让人高兴的信，不是因为里面的物质帮助，而是信上的话让我高兴。所以我今天又给你写信了。这封信是你父亲给我的，下面是信的内容：

“夫人：

我刚刚得知你病了，如果我在巴黎，我会亲自去看望你的。我儿子要是在，我会叫他去看你的。可是我无法离开C城，阿尔芒又远在六七百里以外。请允许我写信问候你吧，想告诉你，听说你病了，我非常难过，我真诚地祝福你早日康复！

我的一位好朋友，H先生要拜访你，请你好好接待他吧，我托他帮我办件事情，我正焦急地等待结果。

相信我，夫人，最真诚的问候。”

上面就是信的内容。你父亲有一颗美好的心灵，你要好好爱他，我的朋友，这世界值得爱的人并不多，他这封亲笔信比任何名医的药方都要好。

今天早上H先生来了。他似乎对于杜瓦尔先生的委托挺为难的样子。实际上，他是来替你父亲给我三千法郎的。开始我想拒绝，可H先生告诉我说我要是拒绝了，杜瓦尔先生会不高兴的，杜瓦尔先生委托他给我这笔钱，我再有什么要求，他都会满足。我接受了那些钱，因为是你父亲给的，不算是施舍。如果你回来的时候我已经死了，请你把我刚才写的那段关于他的话给他看看，并告诉他，他一番好意写信慰问我这样一个可怜的女人，我在写那几行字的时候落下了感激的眼泪，愿上帝保佑他！

十二月二十五日

我挨过了一些痛苦的日子，我从来没发现身体这么难受过。唉！过去的生活啊！现在受到加倍的惩罚了！

每天夜里都有人照顾我，我几乎喘不过气来。唉！我可怜的最后的日子就要在高烧和咳嗽中度过了。

饭厅里放满了朋友们送来的糖果和各式各样的礼物。这些人中间，肯定有人希望我以后做他们的情人。他们要是看到我现在这副模样，一定会被吓跑的。

普鲁登丝用我收到的礼物来当自己新年的礼物。

外面在化雪了，医生说要是天气一直晴朗的话，我过几天可以出去走走。

一月四日

昨天我坐着马车出门了。天气很好。香榭丽舍大街上人来人往，简直就像早春来了，周围一片热闹的气象。之前，我从来不知道享受阳光能寻回如此多的快乐、甜蜜和安慰。

我几乎遇见了所有熟人，他们都很快乐，都忙于享乐。可多少人身在福中不知福啊！奥林普坐着N伯爵送给她的一辆漂亮的马车经过，她用鄙夷的眼神看了看我。可她不知道我早已经远离那些浮华的东西了。一个善良的小伙子，我的一个老相识，问我是否愿意跟他和他的几个朋友一起吃夜宵，说是他有个朋友非常想认识我。我苦笑了一下，把我高烧的手伸过去，我从来没见过如此惊惶的表情。

我四点钟回了家，晚饭的胃口还不错。出去走走确实有好处。我要是能好起来该多好啊！唉，前一天晚上还灵魂空虚，躺在阴森森的病床上期望自己早一点死去的我，今天出去溜了一圈，看到别人生活地如此快乐幸福，我也禁不住想继续活下去了。

一月八日

希望病好起来只不过是我的梦想。我又卧床了，身上涂满了灼人的药膏。过去千金难买的身体，现在能值多少钱呢？

我们一定是前世造孽太多，要不然就是来生会享尽幸福，所以上帝才会让我们这些人活着的时候历尽磨练和受尽煎熬。

一月十日

我一直病着。N伯爵昨天送钱给我，可我没接受。我不想要他什么东西，就是因为他我才不能跟你在一起。

噢，想想我们在布尔吉瓦的美好时光！还会再有吗？

如果我能活着走出这个房间，我一定要去朝拜我们曾经一起住过的房子。可是我可能只有死去才能离开这间屋子了。

谁知道明天还能不能给你写信啊！

一月十二日

我已经十一天没睡好觉了。我感到窒息，喘不过气来。我随时都在想我快死了。医生不让我握笔。朱莉·杜普拉特在照顾我，她倒是允许我给你写几行。我死之前，你不会回来了吗？我们俩就从此结束了吗？我仿佛觉得你要是来了，我的病会好起来的。可好起来又有什么用呢？

一月二十五日

今天早上我被一阵阵嚷嚷给吵醒了。睡在我屋里的朱莉赶紧冲到饭厅。我听见有男人说话的声音，她在跟他们争吵，可没用，后来她又哭着回屋了。

他们是来查封我的东西的。我告诉朱莉随他们去吧，让他们干他们所谓的正义的事吧。执行官戴着帽子走进了我的房间。他打开抽屉，登记了所有东西，根本没管床上还躺着一个垂死的女人，幸好法律还是仁慈的，没把床给我查封了。

他离开的时候总算开了口，告诉我说九天之内我可以上诉，可他还留下一名看守！天啦！我成什么了啊？这一下让我的病情更加重了。普鲁登丝想去问你父亲要钱，可我没准她去。

今天早上我收到了你的信，我等得好苦啊。你能及时收到我的回信吗？你还能再见到我吗？今天我太幸福了，幸福得几乎忘掉了过去六周所受的一切痛苦。尽管我写信的时候情绪低落，可现在似乎好多了。

毕竟，人不会总是不快乐吧。

我在想我要是不会死，而你又会回来，我还能见到春天，你还依然爱着我，我们还可以重新开始我们去年的快乐时光！

我多么傻呀！我几乎连给你写信的笔都没法握了，我还在胡思乱想。

无论发生什么事情，我是爱你的，阿尔芒，要是没有爱的回忆，要是没有再见到你的那么一点点希望支持着我，我恐怕早就离开人世了。

一月二十八日

G伯爵回来了。他的情妇欺骗了他的感情，他非常伤心，他非常喜欢她，他把一切都告诉了我。这个可怜的年轻人现在经济状况不太好，可他还是给了执行官一些钱，打发他走了。

我跟他谈起你，他答应我跟你谈谈我的情况。这时候，我竟然忘记了我曾经做过他的情妇，他也努力让我忘记！他真是个好朋友啊！

公爵昨天派人来询问我的病情，今天早上他自己来了。我不知道这个老头怎么活下来的。他在我这儿待了三个小时，加起来也没讲有二十个字。他看到我惨白的脸，两颗大大的泪珠从他眼睛里滚落了下来。毫无疑问，他是想到他女儿的死才哭的，他要看到她第二次死去了。老公爵躬着背，耷拉着脑袋，嘴唇下垂，目光呆滞。他日渐衰老的身体承载着他的年龄和悲伤双重的压力，他怎么受得了。他没有指责我。他似乎在暗自庆幸看到被病魔折磨的我呢，他似乎很骄傲自己还步履稳健，而我这么年轻就被疾病折磨垮了。

天气又变糟了。没有人来看我。朱莉尽量来照顾我。普鲁登丝因为我不能像以前那样给她那么多钱了，就开始找借口不来我家了。

不管医生怎么说，我现在是快死了，因为好几个医生都说我的病情在恶化，我几乎后悔听了你父亲的话，我要是知道我还只能拥有你一年的时间，我可能忍不住要和你待上一年，至少，死的时候还能握着你的手。可我要是真的和你在一起，也许我不会这么快就死去。

这都是命啊！

二月四日

噢！快来啊！快来啊！阿尔芒！我太难受了！我要死了！噢！上帝呀！我昨天是多么难过啊，以至于我不想晚上在家待着，去哪儿也行，今晚似乎和前一天夜晚一样漫长。早上公爵来了，一见到那个被死神遗忘的老人，似乎让我死得更快。

虽然发着高烧，可我还是叫他们替我穿好衣服，带我去了沃德维尔剧院。朱莉替我打扮了一下，否则我看起来真像个死人了。我到了第一次跟你见面的包厢，我一直盯着你那天坐的座位，不过那天那个座位上坐着的却是个乡下小伙子，看到演员插科打诨，他非常粗鲁地笑着。他们带我回家的时候，我几乎已经是半个死人了。后来我咳血咳了一夜。今天我话也讲不出来了，胳膊几乎动不了，天啦！天啦！我快死啦！我本来就在等死，可我简直没想到会这么痛苦，如果……

二月五日

后面的字几乎看不清了，下面是朱莉·杜普拉特接着写的。

阿尔芒先生：

从玛格丽特坚持去看戏那天起，她的病情越来越严重，她已经完全失音，现在四肢也动弹不了了。

我们可怜的朋友所遭受的痛苦简直无以言表。我从来没见过这种情形，所以我一直都很恐惧。

多希望你在身边啊！她几乎是昏迷不醒，不管她是昏迷还是清醒，她能发声的时候，她总是叫着你的名字。

医生说她没多长时间剩下了。她病重以来，老公爵没再来过，他跟医生说看到这种情形，他受不了。

杜维尔努瓦夫人为人真不怎么样。这个女人一向是靠着玛格丽特养活的，她以为她还能从玛格丽特身上得到更多的钱，所以她欠下了很多债，她根本无力偿还。可她发现邻居对她再也没什么可利用时，她甚至都不来瞧一眼。所有人都抛弃玛格丽特了。G先生被逼债逼得去伦敦了。不过他临走时，又给我们送来了一些钱，他已经尽力了。现在又有人来查封了，债主们都等着玛格丽特死去，然后好拍卖她的东西。

我原来想用我的那点钱来制止他们查封，可执行官跟我说没用，他们还要接着查封。既然她都要死了，那还是都放弃的好，也省得为她根本不愿见而且根本不关心她的家人保住那些财产。你根本无法想象这个可怜的姑娘是怎样在表面富有、实际窘迫中度过她最后的日子的。昨天，我们已经彻底没钱了，餐具、首饰、披肩都当掉了，其余的不是卖了就是被查封了。玛格丽特还是知道发生的这一切事情的，她身心都遭受了巨大的打击。大滴大滴的眼泪滚落在她那惨白而又瘦削的脸庞，你要是能见到她，你绝不会认出她是你曾经爱得那么深的玛格丽特的脸蛋了。她现在也没法给你写信了，她要我答应她继续给你写，我现在便在她身边给你写这封信。她望着我，可她的眼睛再也看不见我了，她的眼神已经被即将来临的死亡给蒙上了一层阴影，可她还是露出了笑容，我相信，她的心思、她的灵魂都倾注在你身上了。

每当有人开门，她的眼睛就会突然一亮，以为是你来了。可她发现不是你时，她又回到了痛苦的表情，同时还冒着冷汗，两颊烧得通红。

二月十八日

可怜的阿尔芒先生，今天是多么痛苦的日子啊！今天早上玛格丽特喘不上来气窒息了，医生给她放了血，她才稍微能发出点声音来。医生劝她请个神父，她同意了，于是医生便亲自到圣洛克教堂去请神父。

这时，玛格丽特把我叫到她床边，请我打开她的衣柜，指着一顶帽子和一件花边长裙，用微弱的声音对我说：

“我等忏悔过后就要死了，你用这些衣物替我穿戴好，这是我最后的打扮。”

随后她哭着抱着我说：

“我能讲话，可一讲就喘不上来气，我难受死了！一口气上不来啊！”

我哭着去开了窗户，几分钟过后，神父来了。于是我走上前去。当他得知这是玛格丽特家时，他似乎担心会遭冷遇。

“大胆地进来吧，神父，”我说道。

他在房间里没待多久，然后出来对我说：

“她活着的时候是个罪人，死的时候却是一个基督徒。”

没多久，他带着一帮唱诗班的孩子来了，每个人手里都拿着耶稣受难的十字架，领着他们的是一个教堂侍从，手里摇着铃，表示上帝正向临终者而来。

他们三个一起走进了卧室，过去这间屋里不知说了多少奇怪的话，如今这间屋子已经变成了圣坛。

我跪了下来，不知道这样的记忆能在我脑海里保存多久，可我想从我来到这个世界，还真没有什么事情能给我留下如此深刻的印象。

神父在临终者的脚上、手上还有额头上涂上了圣油，诵了一段短短的经文，玛格丽特就准备上天了，上帝要是看到她生时的痛苦和死时的圣洁，我相信会让她上天堂的。

之后，我再也没听她讲过一个字，也没动过一下。要不是还听见她痛苦的呼吸声，好多次我都以为她死了。

二月十九日，半夜

一切都结束了。

两点钟样子，玛格丽特到了弥留之际，非常痛苦的样子。从来没有一个殉难者遭受如此大的折磨，她痛苦的呻吟足可以证明这一点。有两三次她都直挺挺坐起来，仿佛想留住她正朝上帝而去的生命。

也有两三次，她呼唤着你的名字，接着是一片寂静，最后她又精疲力竭地躺了下去，默默地留着眼泪，她死了。

我向她走去，叫她，没有回答，我替她合上了眼睛，吻了吻她的额头。

可怜啊，亲爱的玛格丽特，愿我是一个圣徒，好让我的吻送你到天堂。

随后，我按照她临终遗言，替她穿戴好了衣物，然后去圣洛克教堂找到神父，点了两只蜡烛，在教堂为她祈祷了一个小时。

我把她剩下的钱都施舍给了穷人。

我是不太了解宗教的，可我相信上帝是知道我的眼泪是真心的，我的祈祷是虔诚的，我的施舍是真诚的，上帝会怜悯她的，一个如此如花似玉的姑娘就这么死了，而且弥留之际只有我一个人守在她身边，替她合上眼睛，送她入殓。

二月二十日，下午五点

今天举行葬礼，玛格丽特的朋友都来到了教堂，有几个朋友还真诚地哭了。当丧葬队伍向蒙特马特公墓走去的时候，只有两个男人跟在后面，一个是专程从伦敦赶来的G伯爵，另外一个是由两个仆人搀扶着的老公爵。

我极度悲伤，我是在玛格丽特家流着泪水，点着灯给你写这些细节的。惨淡的灯火旁边摆着晚餐，你能想象我根本吃不下，这是娜妮娜替我准备的，因为我已经二十四小时没吃过饭了。

这样悲伤的情景不会太久的，因为我的生命并不属于我自己的，就像玛格丽特的生命不属于她一样，所以我要在事发的地方给你写信，一五一十地告诉你每一个细节，害怕时间一长，我不能把这惨境一一给你描述出来。

二月二十二日

第二十七章

“你看完了吗？”我刚看完这些日记，阿尔芒问我道。

“如果我看到的都是真的的话，我的朋友，我明白你一定非常痛苦！”

“我父亲的信也证实了这一点。”

我们接着又讲了讲这个已经结束的悲惨命运，然后我回家休息了一会儿。

阿尔芒仍然很伤心，不过讲出这些事情之后，他似乎好受多了，并且身体很快好了起来，于是我们一起去拜访了普鲁登丝和朱莉·杜普拉特。

普鲁登丝破产了。她说是玛格丽特害她破产的。因为玛格丽特生病期间向她借了很多钱，但都是口头承诺，玛格丽特无力偿还，接着就死了，加上又没给她写借据，所以她也不算债权人。

杜维尔努瓦四处散布流言，说这是她破产的原因。她还向阿尔芒索要了一千法郎，虽然阿尔芒不相信，可出于尊敬跟他情人有关的朋友，他也就假装真的了。

然后我们去拜访了朱莉·杜普拉特，她向我们讲述了她亲眼目睹的惨状，一想起玛格丽特，她就泪如泉涌。

四月的第一缕阳光照得绿叶又发出了新芽，我们去了玛格丽特的坟地。

阿尔芒还有最后一件事情要办，那就是回到到他父亲身边，他希望我能陪他回去。

我们到达了C城，之后我见到了杜瓦尔先生，跟阿尔芒描绘的一样：身材高大，威风凛凛，但是非常和蔼。

他用饱含幸福的眼泪欢迎阿尔芒，并亲切地和我握手。我很快就发现了，在这个税务官的眼里，父爱胜过一切。

他的女儿名叫布朗赫，明眸善睐，静谧安详的嘴唇透露着她圣洁的灵魂，讲出来的全是虔诚的话语。见到她哥哥回家，她满脸笑容。她太年轻了，太圣洁了，她完全不知道，在遥远的地方，曾经有一个妓女为了她家族的名声献出了自己的幸福。

我在这个幸福的家待了几天，全家人对我都非常照顾，为的是感谢我为他们带回了一颗伤后愈合的心。

我回到了巴黎，按照阿尔芒的叙述记下了这个故事。这个故事唯一的优点就是它的真实性，也许会有人争辩，但它的确是真人真事。

当然，我并没有从这个故事得出一个结论，那就是所有像玛格丽特那样的女人都能跟她一样为人处事。事实远非如此，不过我有幸发现了这样一位，在她一生中，她经历过真正的爱情，她也为此遭受了巨大的痛苦，直到最后死去。我想我应该把这一切告知读者，我有责任这么做。

我并不是在宣扬淫乱邪恶，无论在何处，碰到这种为崇高的人祈祷，我都乐意宣扬。

我再次声明，玛格丽特的故事是特别的，否则我也没有必要费劲把它记下来。

Chapter 1

In my opinion， it is impossible to create characters until one has spent a long time in studying men， as it is impossible to speak a language until it has been seriously acquired.Not being old enough to invent， I content myself with narrating， and I beg the reader to assure himself of the truth of a story in which all the characters， with the exception of the heroine， are still alive.Eye-witnesses of the greater part of the facts which I have collected are to be found in Paris， and I might call upon them to confirm me if my testimony is not enough.And， thanks to a particular circumstance， I alone can write these things， for I alone am able to give the final details， without which it would have been impossible to make the story at once interesting and complete.

This is how these details came to my knowledge.On the 12th of March， 1847， I saw in the Rue Lafitte a great yellow placard announcing a sale of furniture and curiosities.The sale was to take place on account of the death of the owner.The owner's name was not mentioned， but the sale was to be held at 9， Rue d'Antin， on the 16th， from 12 to 5.The placard further announced that the rooms and furniture could be seen on the 13th and 14th.

I have always been very fond of curiosities， and I made up my mind not to miss the occasion， if not of buying some， at all events of seeing them.Next day I called at 9， Rue d'Antin.

It was early in the day， and yet there were already a number of visitors， both men and women， and the women， though they were dressed in cashmere and velvet， and had their carriages waiting for them at the door， gazed with astonishment and admiration at the luxury which they saw before them.

I was not long in discovering the reason of this astonishment and admiration， for， having begun to examine things a little carefully， I discovered without difficulty that I was in the house of a kept woman.Now， if there is one thing which women in society would like to see （and there were society women there）， it is the home of those women whose carriages splash their own carriages day by day， who， like them， side by side with them， have their boxes at the Opera and at the Italiens， and who parade in Paris the opulent insolence of their beauty， their diamonds， and their scandal.

This one was dead， so the most virtuous of women could enter even her bedroom.Death had purified the air of this abode of splendid foulness， and if more excuse were needed， they had the excuse that they had merely come to a sale， they knew not whose.They had read the placards， they wished to see what the placards had announced， and to make their choice beforehand.What could be more natural? Yet， all the same， in the midst of all these beautiful things， they could not help looking about for some traces of this courtesan's life， of which they had heard， no doubt， strange enough stories.

Unfortunately the mystery had vanished with the goddess， and， for all their endeavours， they discovered only what was on sale since the owner's decease， and nothing of what had been on sale during her lifetime.For the rest， there were plenty of things worth buying.The furniture was superb; there were rosewood and buhl cabinets and tables， Sevres and Chinese vases， Saxe statuettes， satin， velvet， lace; there was nothing lacking.

I sauntered through the rooms， following the inquisitive ladies of distinction.They entered a room with Persian hangings， and I was just going to enter in turn， when they came out again almost immediately， smiling， and as if ashamed of their own curiosity.I was all the more eager to see the room.It was the dressing-room， laid out with all the articles of toilet， in which the dead woman's extravagance seemed to be seen at its height.

On a large table against the wall， a table three feet in width and six in length， glittered all the treasures of Aucoc and Odiot.It was a magnificent collection， and there was not one of those thousand little things so necessary to the toilet of a woman of the kind which was not in gold or silver.Such a collection could only have been got together little by little， and the same lover had certainly not begun and ended it.

Not being shocked at the sight of a kept woman's dressing-room， I amused myself with examining every detail， and I discovered that these magnificently chiselled objects bore different initials and different coronets.I looked at one after another， each recalling a separate shame， and I said that God had been merciful to the poor child， in not having left her to pay the ordinary penalty， but rather to die in the midst of her beauty and luxury， before the coming of old age， the courtesan's first death.

Is there anything sadder in the world than the old age of vice， especially in woman? She preserves no dignity， she inspires no interest.The everlasting repentance， not of the evil ways followed， but of the plans that have miscarried， the money that has been spent in vain， is as saddening a thing as one can well meet with.I knew an aged woman who had once been “gay，”whose only link with the past was a daughter almost as beautiful as she herself had been.This poor creature to whom her mother had never said， “You are my child，”except to bid her nourish her old age as she herself had nourished her youth， was called Louise， and， being obedient to her mother， she abandoned herself without volition， without passion， without pleasure， as she would have worked at any other profession that might have been taught her.

The constant sight of dissipation， precocious dissipation， in addition to her constant sickly state， had extinguished in her mind all the knowledge of good and evil that God had perhaps given her， but that no one had ever thought of developing.I shall always remember her， as she passed along the boulevards almost every day at the same hour， accompanied by her mother as assiduously as a real mother might have accompanied her daughter.I was very young then， and ready to accept for myself the easy morality of the age.I remember， however， the contempt and disgust which awoke in me at the sight of this scandalous chaperoning.Her face， too， was inexpressibly virginal in its expression of innocence and of melancholy suffering.She was like a figure of Resignation.

One day the girl's face was transfigured.In the midst of all the debauches mapped out by her mother， it seemed to her as if God had left over for her one happiness.And why indeed should God， who had made her without strength， have left her without consolation， under the sorrowful burden of her life? One day， then， she realized that she was to have a child， and all that remained to her of chastity leaped for joy.The soul has strange refuges.Louise ran to tell the good news to her mother.It is a shameful thing to speak of， but we are not telling tales of pleasant sins; we are telling of true facts， which it would be better， no doubt， to pass over in silence， if we did not believe that it is needful from time to time to reveal the martyrdom of those who are condemned without bearing， scorned without judging; shameful it is， but this mother answered the daughter that they had already scarce enough for two， and would certainly not have enough for three; that such children are useless， and a lying-in is so much time lost.

Next day a midwife， of whom all we will say is that she was a friend of the mother， visited Louise， who remained in bed for a few days， and then got up paler and feebler than before.

Three months afterward a man took pity on her and tried to heal her， morally and physically; but the last shock had been too violent， and Louise died of it.The mother still lives; how? God knows.

This story returned to my mind while I looked at the silver toilet things， and a certain space of time must have elapsed during these reflections， for no one was left in the room but myself and an attendant， who， standing near the door， was carefully watching me to see that I did not pocket anything.

I went up to the man， to whom I was causing so much anxiety.“Sir，”I said， “can you tell me the name of the person who formerly lived here?”

“Mademoiselle Marguerite Gautier.”

I knew her by name and by sight.

“What!”I said to the attendant; “Marguerite Gautier is dead?”

“Yes， sir.”

“When did she die?”

“Three weeks ago， I believe.”

“And why are the rooms on view?”

“The creditors believe that it will send up the prices.People can see beforehand the effect of the things; you see that induces them to buy.”

“She was in debt， then?”

“To any extent， sir.”

“But the sale will cover it?”

“And more too.”

“Who will get what remains over?”

“Her family.”

“She had a family?”

“It seems so.”

“Thanks.”

The attendant， reassured as to my intentions， touched his hat， and I went out.

“Poor girl!”I said to myself as I returned home; “she must have had a sad death， for， in her world， one has friends only when one is perfectly well.”And in spite of myself I began to feel melancholy over the fate of Marguerite Gautier.

It will seem absurd to many people， but I have an unbounded sympathy for women of this kind， and I do not think it necessary to apologize for such sympathy.

One day， as I was going to the Prefecture for a passport， I saw in one of the neighbouring streets a poor girl who was being marched along by two policemen.I do not know what was the matter.All I know is that she was weeping bitterly as she kissed an infant only a few months old， from whom her arrest was to separate her.Since that day I have never dared to despise a woman at first sight.

Chapter 2

The sale was to take place on the 16th.A day's interval had been left between the visiting days and the sale， in order to give time for taking down the hangings， curtains， etc.I had just returned from abroad.It was natural that I had not heard of Marguerite's death among the pieces of news which one's friends always tell on returning after an absence.Marguerite was a pretty woman; but though the life of such women makes sensation enough， their death makes very little.They are suns which set as they rose， unobserved.Their death， when they die young， is heard of by all their lovers at the same moment， for in Paris almost all the lovers of a well-known woman are friends.A few recollections are exchanged， and everybody's life goes on as if the incident had never occurred， without so much as a tear.

Nowadays， at twenty-five， tears have become so rare a thing that they are not to be squandered indiscriminately.It is the most that can be expected if the parents who pay for being wept over are wept over in return for the price they pay.

As for me， though my initials did not occur on any of Marguerite's belongings， that instinctive indulgence， that natural pity that I have already confessed， set me thinking over her death， more perhaps than it was worth thinking over.I remembered having often met Marguerite in the Bois， where she went regularly every day in a little blue coupe drawn by two magnificent bays， and I had noticed in her a distinction quite apart from other women of her kind， a distinction which was enhanced by a really exceptional beauty.

These unfortunate creatures whenever they go out are always accompanied by somebody or other.As no man cares to make himself conspicuous by being seen in their company， and as they are afraid of solitude， they take with them either those who are not well enough off to have a carriage， or one or another of those elegant， ancient ladies， whose elegance is a little inexplicable， and to whom one can always go for information in regard to the women whom they accompany.

In Marguerite's case it was quite different.She was always alone when she drove in the Champs-Elysees， lying back in her carriage as much as possible， dressed in furs in winter， and in summer wearing very simple dresses; and though she often passed people whom she knew， her smile， when she chose to smile， was seen only by them， and a duchess might have smiled in just such a manner.She did not drive to and fro like the others， from the Rond-Point to the end of the Champs-Elysees.She drove straight to the Bois.There she left her carriage， walked for an hour， returned to her carriage， and drove rapidly home.

All these circumstances which I had so often witnessed came back to my memory， and I regretted her death as one might regret the destruction of a beautiful work of art.

It was impossible to see more charm in beauty than in that of Marguerite.Excessively tall and thin， she had in the fullest degree the art of repairing this oversight of Nature by the mere arrangement of the things she wore.Her cashmere reached to the ground， and showed on each side the large flounces of a silk dress， and the heavy muff which she held pressed against her bosom was surrounded by such cunningly arranged folds that the eye， however exacting， could find no fault with the contour of the lines.Her head， a marvel， was the object of the most coquettish care.It was small， and her mother， as Musset would say， seemed to have made it so in order to make it with care.

Set， in an oval of indescribable grace， two black eyes， surmounted by eyebrows of so pure a curve that it seemed as if painted; veil these eyes with lovely lashes， which， when drooped， cast their shadow on the rosy hue of the cheeks; trace a delicate， straight nose， the nostrils a little open， in an ardent aspiration toward the life of the senses; design a regular mouth， with lips parted graciously over teeth as white as milk; colour the skin with the down of a peach that no hand has touched， and you will have the general aspect of that charming countenance.The hair， black as jet， waving naturally or not， was parted on the forehead in two large folds and draped back over the head， leaving in sight just the tip of the ears， in which there glittered two diamonds， worth four to five thousand francs each.How it was that her ardent life had left on Marguerite's face the virginal， almost childlike expression， which characterized it， is a problem which we can but state， without attempting to solve it.

Marguerite had a marvellous portrait of herself， by Vidal， the only man whose pencil could do her justice.I had this portrait by me for a few days after her death， and the likeness was so astonishing that it has helped to refresh my memory in regard to some points which I might not otherwise have remembered.

Some among the details of this chapter did not reach me until later， but I write them here so as not to be obliged to return to them when the story itself has begun.

Marguerite was always present at every first night， and passed every evening either at the theatre or the ball.Whenever there was a new piece she was certain to be seen， and she invariably had three things with her on the ledge of her ground-floor box: her opera-glass， a bag of sweets， and a bouquet of camellias.

For twenty-five days of the month the camellias were white， and for five they were red; no one ever knew the reason of this change of colour， which I mention though I can not explain it; it was noticed both by her friends and by the habitue's of the theatres to which she most often went.She was never seen with any flowers but camellias.At the florist's， Madame Barjon's， she had come to be called “the Lady of the Camellias，”and the name stuck to her.

Like all those who move in a certain set in Paris， I knew that Marguerite had lived with some of the most fashionable young men in society， that she spoke of it openly， and that they themselves boasted of it; so that all seemed equally pleased with one another.Nevertheless， for about three years， after a visit to Bagnees， she was said to be living with an old duke， a foreigner， enormously rich， who had tried to remove her as far as possible from her former life， and， as it seemed， entirely to her own satisfaction.

This is what I was told on the subject.In the spring of 1847 Marguerite was so ill that the doctors ordered her to take the waters， and she went to Bagneres.Among the invalids was the daughter of this duke; she was not only suffering from the same complaint， but she was so like Marguerite in appearance that they might have been taken for sisters; the young duchess was in the last stage of consumption， and a few days after Marguerite's arrival she died.One morning， the duke， who had remained at Bagneres to be near the soil that had buried a part of his heart， caught sight of Marguerite at a turn of the road.He seemed to see the shadow of his child， and going up to her， he took her hands， embraced and wept over her， and without even asking her who she was， begged her to let him love in her the living image of his dead child.Marguerite， alone at Bagneres with her maid， and not being in any fear of compromising herself， granted the duke's request.Some people who knew her， happening to be at Bagneres， took upon themselves to explain Mademoiselle Gautier's true position to the duke.It was a blow to the old man， for the resemblance with his daughter was ended in one direction， but it was too late.She had become a necessity to his heart， his only pretext， his only excuse， for living.He made no reproaches， he had indeed no right to do so， but he asked her if she felt herself capable of changing her mode of life， offering her in return for the sacrifice every compensation that she could desire.She consented.

It must be said that Marguerite was just then very ill.The past seemed to her sensitive nature as if it were one of the main causes of her illness， and a sort of superstition led her to hope that God would restore to her both health and beauty in return for her repentance and conversion.By the end of the summer， the waters， sleep， the natural fatigue of long walks， had indeed more or less restored her health.The duke accompanied her to Paris， where he continued to see her as he had done at Bagneres.

This liaison， whose motive and origin were quite unknown， caused a great sensation， for the duke， already known for his immense fortune， now became known for his prodigality.All this was set down to the debauchery of a rich old man， and everything was believed except the truth.The father's sentiment for Marguerite had， in truth， so pure a cause that anything but a communion of hearts would have seemed to him a kind of incest， and he had never spoken to her a word which his daughter might not have heard.

Far be it from me to make out our heroine to be anything but what she was.As long as she remained at Bagneres， the promise she had made to the duke had not been hard to keep， and she had kept it; but， once back in Paris， it seemed to her， accustomed to a life of dissipation， of balls， of orgies， as if the solitude， only interrupted by the duke's stated visits， would kill her with boredom， and the hot breath of her old life came back across her head and heart.

We must add that Marguerite had returned more beautiful than she had ever been; she was but twenty， and her malady， sleeping but not subdued， continued to give her those feverish desires which are almost always the result of diseases of the chest.

It was a great grief to the duke when his friends， always on the lookout for some scandal on the part of the woman with whom， it seemed to them， he was compromising himself， came to tell him， indeed to prove to him， that at times when she was sure of not seeing him she received other visits， and that these visits were often prolonged till the following day.On being questioned， Marguerite admitted everything to the duke， and advised him， without arriere-pensee， to concern himself with her no longer， for she felt incapable of carrying out what she had undertaken， and she did not wish to go on accepting benefits from a man whom she was deceiving.The duke did not return for a week; it was all he could do， and on the eighth day he came to beg Marguerite to let him still visit her， promising that he would take her as she was， so long as he might see her， and swearing that he would never utter a reproach against her， not though he were to die of it.

This， then， was the state of things three months after Marguerite's return; that is to say， in November or December， 1842.

Chapter 3

At one o'clock on the 16th I went to the Rue d'Antin.The voice of the auctioneer could be heard from the outer door.The rooms were crowded with people.There were all the celebrities of the most elegant impropriety， furtively examined by certain great ladies who had again seized the opportunity of the sale in order to be able to see， close at hand， women whom they might never have another occasion of meeting， and whom they envied perhaps in secret for their easy pleasures.The Duchess of F.elbowed Mlle.A.， one of the most melancholy examples of our modern courtesan; the Marquis de T.hesitated over a piece of furniture the price of which was being run high by Mme.D.， the most elegant and famous adulteress of our time; the Duke of Y.， who in Madrid is supposed to be ruining himself in Paris， and in Paris to be ruining himself in Madrid， and who， as a matter of fact， never even reaches the limit of his income， talked with Mme.M.， one of our wittiest story-tellers， who from time to time writes what she says and signs what she writes， while at the same time he exchanged confidential glances with Mme.de N.， a fair ornament of the Champs-Elysees， almost always dressed in pink or blue， and driving two big black horses which Tony had sold her for 10，000 francs， and for which she had paid， after her fashion; finally， Mlle.R.， who makes by her mere talent twice what the women of the world make by their dot and three times as much as the others make by their amours， had come， in spite of the cold， to make some purchases， and was not the least looked at among the crowd.

We might cite the initials of many more of those who found themselves， not without some mutual surprise， side by side in one room.But we fear to weary the reader.We will only add that everyone was in the highest spirits， and that many of those present had known the dead woman， and seemed quite oblivious of the fact.There was a sound of loud laughter; the auctioneers shouted at the top of their voices; the dealers who had filled the benches in front of the auction table tried in vain to obtain silence， in order to transact their business in peace.Never was there a noisier or a more varied gathering.

I slipped quietly into the midst of this tumult， sad to think of when one remembered that the poor creature whose goods were being sold to pay her debts had died in the next room.Having come rather to examine than to buy， I watched the faces of the auctioneers， noticing how they beamed with delight whenever anything reached a price beyond their expectations.Honest creatures， who had speculated upon this woman's prostitution， who had gained their hundred per cent out of her， who had plagued with their writs the last moments of her life， and who came now after her death to gather in at once the fruits of their dishonourable calculations and the interest on their shameful credit！ How wise were the ancients in having only one God for traders and robbers!

Dresses， cashmeres， jewels， were sold with incredible rapidity.There was nothing that I cared for， and I still waited.All at once I heard: “A volume， beautifully bound， gilt-edged， entitled Manon Lescaut.There is something written on the first page.Ten francs.”

“Twelve，”said a voice after a longish silence.

“Fifteen，”I said.

Why? I did not know.Doubtless for the something written.

“Fifteen，”repeated the auctioneer.

“Thirty，”said the first bidder in a tone which seemed to defy further competition.

It had now become a struggle.“Thirty-five，”I cried in the same tone.

“Forty.”

“Fifty.”

“Sixty.”

“A hundred.”

If I had wished to make a sensation I should certainly have succeeded， for a profound silence had ensued， and people gazed at me as if to see what sort of a person it was， who seemed to be so determined to possess the volume.

The accent which I had given to my last word seemed to convince my adversary; he preferred to abandon a conflict which could only have resulted in making me pay ten times its price for the volume， and， bowing， he said very gracefully， though indeed a little late:

“I give way， sir.”

Nothing more being offered， the book was assigned to me.

As I was afraid of some new fit of obstinacy， which my amour propre might have sustained somewhat better than my purse， I wrote down my name， had the book put on one side， and went out.I must have given considerable food for reflection to the witnesses of this scene， who would no doubt ask themselves what my purpose could have been in paying a hundred francs for a book which I could have had anywhere for ten， or， at the outside， fifteen.

An hour after， I sent for my purchase.On the first page was written in ink， in an elegant hand， an inscription on the part of the giver.It consisted of these words:

Manon to Marguerite.

Humility.

It was signed Armand Duval.

What was the meaning of the word Humility? Was Manon to recognise in Marguerite， in the opinion of M.Armand Duval， her superior in vice or in affection? The second interpretation seemed the more probable， for the first would have been an impertinent piece of plain speaking which Marguerite， whatever her opinion of herself， would never have accepted.

I went out again， and thought no more of the book until at night， when I was going to bed.

Manon Lescaut is a touching story.I know every detail of it， and yet whenever I come across the volume the same sympathy always draws me to it; I open it， and for the hundredth time I live over again with the heroine of the Abbe Prevost.Now this heroine is so true to life that I feel as if I had known her; and thus the sort of comparison between her and Marguerite gave me an unusual inclination to read it， and my indulgence passed into pity， almost into a kind of love for the poor girl to whom I owed the volume.Manon died in the desert， it is true， but in the arms of the man who loved her with the whole energy of his soul; who， when she was dead， dug a grave for her， and watered it with his tears， and buried his heart in it; while Marguerite， a sinner like Manon， and perhaps converted like her， had died in a sumptuous bed （it seemed， after what I had seen， the bed of her past）， but in that desert of the heart， a more barren， a vaster， a more pitiless desert than that in which Manon had found her last resting-place.

Marguerite， in fact， as I had found from some friends who knew of the last circumstances of her life， had not a single real friend by her bedside during the two months of her long and painful agony.

Then from Manon and Marguerite my mind wandered to those whom I knew， and whom I saw singing along the way which led to just such another death.Poor souls! If it is not right to love them， is it not well to pity them? You pity the blind man who has never seen the daylight， the deaf who has never heard the harmonies of nature， the dumb who has never found a voice for his soul， and， under a false cloak of shame， you will not pity this blindness of heart， this deafness of soul， this dumbness of conscience， which sets the poor afflicted creature beside herself and makes her， in spite of herself， incapable of seeing what is good， of bearing the Lord， and of speaking the pure language of love and faith.

Hugo has written Marion Delorme， Musset has written Bernerette， Alexandre Dumas has written Fernande， the thinkers and poets of all time have brought to the courtesan the offering of their pity， and at times a great man has rehabilitated them with his love and even with his name.If I insist on this point， it is because many among those who have begun to read me will be ready to throw down a book in which they will fear to find an apology for vice and prostitution; and the author's age will do something， no doubt， to increase this fear.Let me undeceive those who think thus， and let them go on reading， if nothing but such a fear hinders them.

I am quite simply convinced of a certain principle， which is: For the woman whose education has not taught her what is right， God almost always opens two ways which lead thither the ways of sorrow and of love.They are hard; those who walk in them walk with bleeding feet and torn hands， but they also leave the trappings of vice upon the thorns of the wayside， and reach the journey's end in a nakedness which is not shameful in the sight of the Lord.

Those who meet these bold travellers ought to succour them， and to tell all that they have met them， for in so doing they point out the way.It is not a question of setting at the outset of life two sign-posts， one bearing the inscription “The Right Way，”the other the inscription “The Wrong Way，”and of saying to those who come there， “Choose.”One must needs， like Christ， point out the ways which lead from the second road to the first， to those who have been easily led astray; and it is needful that the beginning of these ways should not be too painful nor appear too impenetrable.

Here is Christianity with its marvellous parable of the Prodigal Son to teach us indulgence and pardon.Jesus was full of love for souls wounded by the passions of men; he loved to bind up their wounds and to find in those very wounds the balm which should heal them.Thus he said to the Magdalen: “Much shall be forgiven thee because thou hast loved much，”a sublimity of pardon which can only have called forth a sublime faith.

Why do we make ourselves more strict than Christ? Why， holding obstinately to the opinions of the world， which hardens itself in order that it may be thought strong， do we reject， as it rejects， souls bleeding at wounds by which， like a sick man's bad blood， the evil of their past may be healed， if only a friendly hand is stretched out to lave them and set them in the convalescence of the heart?

It is to my own generation that I speak， to those for whom the theories of M.de Voltaire happily exist no longer， to those who， like myself， realize that humanity， for these last fifteen years， has been in one of its most audacious moments of expansion.The science of good and evil is acquired forever; faith is refashioned， respect for sacred things has returned to us， and if the world has not all at once become good， it has at least become better.The efforts of every intelligent man tend in the same direction， and every strong will is harnessed to the same principle: Be good， be young， be true! Evil is nothing but vanity， let us have the pride of good， and above all let us never despair.Do not let us despise the woman who is neither mother， sister， maid， nor wife.Do not let us limit esteem to the family nor indulgence to egoism.Since “there is more joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth than over ninety and nine just persons that need no repentance，”let us give joy to heaven.Heaven will render it back to us with usury.Let us leave on our way the alms of pardon for those whom earthly desires have driven astray， whom a divine hope shall perhaps save， and， as old women say when they offer you some homely remedy of their own， if it does no good it will do no harm.

Doubtless it must seem a bold thing to attempt to deduce these grand results out of the meagre subject that I deal with; but I am one of those who believe that all is in little.The child is small， and he includes the man; the brain is narrow， and it harbours thought; the eye is but a point， and it covers leagues.

Chapter 4

Two days after， the sale was ended.It had produced 350，000 francs.The creditors divided among them two thirds， and the family， a sister and a grand-nephew， received the remainder.

The sister opened her eyes very wide when the lawyer wrote to her that she had inherited 50，000 francs.The girl had not seen her sister for six or seven years， and did not know what had become of her from the moment when she had disappeared from home.She came up to Paris in haste， and great was the astonishment of those who had known Marguerite when they saw as her only heir a fine， fat country girl， who until then had never left her village.She had made the fortune at a single stroke， without even knowing the source of that fortune.She went back， I heard afterward， to her countryside， greatly saddened by her sister's death， but with a sadness which was somewhat lightened by the investment at four and a half per cent which she had been able to make.

All these circumstances， often repeated in Paris， the mother city of scandal， had begun to be forgotten， and I was even little by little forgetting the part I had taken in them， when a new incident brought to my knowledge the whole of Marguerite's life， and acquainted me with such pathetic details that I was taken with the idea of writing down the story which I now write.

The rooms， now emptied of all their furniture， had been to let for three or four days when one morning there was a ring at my door.

My servant， or， rather， my porter， who acted as my servant， went to the door and brought me a card， saying that the person who had given it to him wished to see me.

I glanced at the card and there read these two words: Armand Duval.

I tried to think where I had seen the name， and remembered the first leaf of the copy of Manon Lescaut.What could the person who had given the book to Marguerite want of me? I gave orders to ask him in at once.

I saw a young man， blond， tall， pale， dressed in a travelling suit which looked as if he had not changed it for some days， and had not even taken the trouble to brush it on arriving at Paris， for it was covered with dust.

M.Duval was deeply agitated; he made no attempt to conceal his agitation， and it was with tears in his eyes and a trembling voice that he said to me:

“Sir， I beg you to excuse my visit and my costume; but young people are not very ceremonious with one another， and I was so anxious to see you to-day that I have not even gone to the hotel to which I have sent my luggage， and have rushed straight here， fearing that， after all， I might miss you， early as it is.”

I begged M.Duval to sit down by the fire; he did so， and， taking his handkerchief from his pocket， hid his face in it for a moment.

“You must be at a loss to understand，”he went on， sighing sadly， “for what purpose an unknown visitor， at such an hour， in such a costume， and in tears， can have come to see you.I have simply come to ask of you a great service.”

“Speak on， sir， I am entirely at your disposal.”

“You were present at the sale of Marguerite Gautier?”

At this word the emotion， which he had got the better of for an instant， was too much for him， and he was obliged to cover his eyes with his hand.

“I must seem to you very absurd，”he added， “but pardon me， and believe that I shall never forget the patience with which you have listened to me.”

“Sir，”I answered， “if the service which I can render you is able to lessen your trouble a little， tell me at once what I can do for you， and you will find me only too happy to oblige you.”

M.Duval's sorrow was sympathetic， and in spite of myself I felt the desire of doing him a kindness.Thereupon he said to me:

“You bought something at Marguerite's sale?”

“Yes， a book.”

“Manon Lescaut?”

“Precisely.”

“Have you the book still?”

“It is in my bedroom.”

On hearing this， Armand Duval seemed to be relieved of a great weight， and thanked me as if I had already rendered him a service merely by keeping the book.

I got up and went into my room to fetch the book， which I handed to him.

“That is it indeed，”he said， looking at the inscription on the first page and turning over the leaves; “that is it in deed，”and two big tears fell on the pages.“Well， sir，”said he， lifting his head， and no longer trying to hide from me that he had wept and was even then on the point of weeping， “do you value this book very greatly?”

“Why?”

“Because I have come to ask you to give it up to me.”

“Pardon my curiosity， but was it you， then， who gave it to Marguerite Gautier?”

“It was!”

“The book is yours， sir; take it back.I am happy to be able to hand it over to you.”

“But，”said M.Duval with some embarrassment， “the least I can do is to give you in return the price which you paid for it.”

“Allow me to offer it to you.The price of a single volume in a sale of that kind is a mere nothing， and I do not remember how much I gave for it.”

“You gave one hundred francs.”

“True，”I said， embarrassed in my turn， “how do you know?”

“It is quite simple.I hoped to reach Paris in time for the sale， and I only managed to get here this morning.I was absolutely resolved to have something which had belonged to her， and I hastened to the auctioneer and asked him to allow me to see the list of the things sold and of the buyers' names.I saw that this volume had been bought by you， and I decided to ask you to give it up to me， though the price you had set upon it made me fear that you might yourself have some souvenir in connection with the possession of the book.”

As he spoke， it was evident that he was afraid I had known Marguerite as he had known her.I hastened to reassure him.

“I knew Mlle.Gautier only by sight，”I said; “her death made on me the impression that the death of a pretty woman must always make on a young man who had liked seeing her.I wished to buy something at her sale， and I bid higher and higher for this book out of mere obstinacy and to annoy some one else， who was equally keen to obtain it， and who seemed to defy me to the contest.I repeat， then， that the book is yours， and once more I beg you to accept it; do not treat me as if I were an auctioneer， and let it be the pledge between us of a longer and more intimate acquaintance.”

“Good，”said Armand， holding out his hand and pressing mine; “I accept， and I shall be grateful to you all my life.”

I was very anxious to question Armand on the subject of Marguerite， for the inscription in the book， the young man's hurried journey， his desire to possess the volume， piqued my curiosity; but I feared if I questioned my visitor that I might seem to have refused his money only in order to have the right to pry into his affairs.

It was as if he guessed my desire， for he said to me:

“Have you read the volume?”

“All through.”

“What did you think of the two lines that I wrote in it?”

“I realized at once that the woman to whom you had given the volume must have been quite outside the ordinary category， for I could not take those two lines as a mere empty compliment.”

“You were right.That woman was an angel.See， read this letter.”And he handed to me a paper which seemed to have been many times reread.

I opened it， and this is what it contained:

“MY DEAR ARMAND:—I have received your letter.You are still good， and I thank God for it.Yes， my friend， I am ill， and with one of those diseases that never relent; but the interest you still take in me makes my suffering less.I shall not live long enough， I expect， to have the happiness of pressing the hand which has written the kind letter I have just received; the words of it would be enough to cure me， if anything could cure me.I shall not see you， for I am quite near death， and you are hundreds of leagues away.My poor friend， your Marguerite of old times is sadly changed.It is better perhaps for you not to see her again than to see her as she is.You ask if I forgive you; oh， with all my heart， friend， for the way you hurt me was only a way of proving the love you had for me.I have been in bed for a month， and I think so much of your esteem that I write every day the journal of my life， from the moment we left each other to the moment when I shall be able to write no longer.If the interest you take in me is real， Armand， when you come back， go and see Julie Duprat.She will give you my journal.You will find in it the reason and the excuse for what has passed between us.Julie is very good to me; we often talk of you together.She was there when your letter came， and we both cried over it.

“If you had not sent me any word， I had told her to give you those papers when you returned to France.Do not thank me for it.This daily looking back on the only happy moments of my life does me an immense amount of good， and if you will find in reading it some excuse for the past.I， for my part， find a continual solace in it.I should like to leave you something which would always remind you of me， but everything here has been seized， and I have nothing of my own.

“Do you understand， my friend? I am dying， and from my bed I can hear a man walking to and fro in the drawing-room; my creditors have put him there to see that nothing is taken away， and that nothing remains to me in case I do not die.I hope they will wait till the end before they begin to sell.

“Oh， men have no pity! or rather， I am wrong， it is God who is just and inflexible!

“And now， dear love， you will come to my sale， and you will buy something， for if I put aside the least thing for you， they might accuse you of embezzling seized goods.

“It is a sad life that I am leaving!

“It would be good of God to let me see you again before I die.According to all probability， good-bye， my friend.Pardon me if I do not write a longer letter， but those who say they are going to cure me wear me out with bloodletting， and my hand refuses to write any more.

“MARGUERITE GAUTIER.”

The last two words were scarcely legible.I returned the letter to Armand， who had， no doubt， read it over again in his mind while I was reading it on paper， for he said to me as he took it:

“Who would think that a kept woman could have written that?”And， overcome by recollections， he gazed for some time at the writing of the letter， which he finally carried to his lips.

“And when I think，”he went on， “that she died before I could see her， and that I shall never see her again， when I think that she did for me what no sister would ever have done， I can not forgive myself for having left her to die like that.Dead! Dead and thinking of me， writing and repeating my name， poor dear Marguerite!”

And Armand， giving free outlet to his thoughts and his tears， held out his hand to me， and continued:

“People would think it childish enough if they saw me lament like this over a dead woman such as she; no one will ever know what I made that woman suffer， how cruel I have been to her! how good， how resigned she was! I thought it was I who had to forgive her， and to-day I feel unworthy of the forgiveness which she grants me.Oh， I would give ten years of my life to weep at her feet for an hour!”

It is always difficult to console a sorrow that is unknown to one， and nevertheless I felt so lively a sympathy for the young man， he made me so frankly the confidant of his distress， that I believed a word from me would not be indifferent to him， and I said:

“Have you no parents， no friends? Hope.Go and see them; they will console you.As for me， I can only pity you.”

“It is true，”he said， rising and walking to and fro in the room， “I am wearying you.Pardon me， I did not reflect how little my sorrow must mean to you， and that I am intruding upon you something which can not and ought not to interest you at all.”

“You mistake my meaning.I am entirely at your service; only I regret my inability to calm your distress.If my society and that of my friends can give you any distraction， if， in short， you have need of me， no matter in what way， I hope you will realize how much pleasure it will give me to do anything for you.”

“Pardon， pardon，”said he; “sorrow sharpens the sensations.Let me stay here for a few minutes longer， long enough to dry my eyes， so that the idlers in the street may not look upon it as a curiosity to see a big fellow like me crying.You have made me very happy by giving me this book.I do not know how I can ever express my gratitude to you.”

“By giving me a little of your friendship，”said I， “and by telling me the cause of your suffering.One feels better while telling what one suffers.”

“You are right.But to-day I have too much need of tears; I can not very well talk.One day I will tell you the whole story， and you will see if I have reason for regretting the poor girl.And now，”he added， rubbing his eyes for the last time， and looking at himself in the glass， “say that you do not think me too absolutely idiotic， and allow me to come back and see you another time.”

He cast on me a gentle and amiable look.I was near embracing him.As for him， his eyes again began to fill with tears; he saw that I perceived it and turned away his head.

“Come，”I said， “courage.”

“Good-bye，”he said.

And， making a desperate effort to restrain his tears， he rushed rather than went out of the room.

I lifted the curtain of my window， and saw him get into the cabriolet which awaited him at the door; but scarcely was he seated before he burst into tears and hid his face in his pocket-handkerchief.

Chapter 5

A good while elapsed before I heard anything more of Armand， but， on the other hand， I was constantly hearing of Marguerite.

I do not know if you have noticed， if once the name of anybody who might in the natural course of things have always remained unknown， or at all events indifferent to you， should be mentioned before you， immediately details begin to group themselves about the name， and you find all your friends talking to you about something which they have never mentioned to you before.You discover that this person was almost touching you and has passed close to you many times in your life without your noticing it; you find coincidences in the events which are told you， a real affinity with certain events of your own existence.I was not absolutely at that point in regard to Marguerite， for I had seen and met her， I knew her by sight and by reputation; nevertheless， since the moment of the sale， her name came to my ears so frequently， and， owing to the circumstance that I have mentioned in the last chapter， that name was associated with so profound a sorrow， that my curiosity increased in proportion with my astonishment.The consequence was that whenever I met friends to whom I had never breathed the name of Marguerite， I always began by saying:

“Did you ever know a certain Marguerite Gautier?”

“The Lady of the Camellias?”

“Exactly.”

“Oh， very well!”

The word was sometimes accompanied by a smile which could leave no doubt as to its meaning.

“Well， what sort of a girl was she?”

“A good sort of girl.”

“Is that all?”

“Oh， yes; more intelligence and perhaps a little more heart than most.”

“Do you know anything particular about her?”

“She ruined Baron de G.”

“No more than that?”

“She was the mistress of the old Duke of…”

“Was she really his mistress?”

“So they say; at all events， he gave her a great deal of money.”

The general outlines were always the same.Nevertheless I was anxious to find out something about the relations between Marguerite and Armand.Meeting one day a man who was constantly about with known women， I asked him: “Did you know Marguerite Gautier?”

The answer was the usual: “Very well.”

“What sort of a girl was she?”

“A fine， good girl.I was very sorry to hear of her death.”

“Had she not a lover called Armand Duval?”

“Tall and blond?”

“Yes.”

“It is quite true.”

“Who was this Armand?”

“A fellow who squandered on her the little money he had， and then had to leave her.They say he was quite wild about it.”

“And she?”

“They always say she was very much in love with him， but as girls like that are in love.It is no good to ask them for what they can not give.”

“What has become of Armand?”

“I don't know.We knew him very little.He was with Marguerite for five or six months in the country.When she came back， he had gone.”

“And you have never seen him since?”

“Never.”

I， too， had not seen Armand again.I was beginning to ask myself if， when he had come to see me， the recent news of Marguerite's death had not exaggerated his former love， and consequently his sorrow， and I said to myself that perhaps he had already forgotten the dead woman， and along with her his promise to come and see me again.This supposition would have seemed probable enough in most instances， but in Armand's despair there had been an accent of real sincerity， and， going from one extreme to another， I imagined that distress had brought on an illness， and that my not seeing him was explained by the fact that he was ill， perhaps dead.

I was interested in the young man in spite of myself.Perhaps there was some selfishness in this interest; perhaps I guessed at some pathetic love story under all this sorrow; perhaps my desire to know all about it had much to do with the anxiety which Armand's silence caused me.Since M.Duval did not return to see me， I decided to go and see him.A pretext was not difficult to find; unluckily I did not know his address， and no one among those whom I questioned could give it to me.

I went to the Rue d'Antin; perhaps Marguerite's porter would know where Armand lived.There was a new porter; he knew as little about it as I.I then asked in what cemetery Mlle.Gautier had been buried.It was the Montmartre Cemetery.It was now the month of April; the weather was fine， the graves were not likely to look as sad and desolate as they do in winter; in short， it was warm enough for the living to think a little of the dead， and pay them a visit.I went to the cemetery， saying to myself: “One glance at Marguerite's grave， and I shall know if Armand's sorrow still exists， and perhaps I may find out what has become of him.”

I entered the keeper's lodge， and asked him if on the 22nd of February a woman named Marguerite Gautier had not been buried in the Montmartre Cemetery.He turned over the pages of a big book in which those who enter this last resting-place are inscribed and numbered， and replied that on the 22nd of February， at 12 o'clock， a woman of that name had been buried.

I asked him to show me the grave， for there is no finding one's way without a guide in this city of the dead， which has its streets like a city of the living.The keeper called over a gardener， to whom he gave the necessary instructions; the gardener interrupted him， saying: “I know， I know.—It is not difficult to find that grave，”he added， turning to me.

“Why?”

“Because it has very different flowers from the others.”

“Is it you who look after it?”

“Yes， sir; and I wish all relations took as much trouble about the dead as the young man who gave me my orders.”

After several turnings， the gardener stopped and said to me: “Here we are.”

I saw before me a square of flowers which one would never have taken for a grave， if it had not been for a white marble slab bearing a name.

The marble slab stood upright， an iron railing marked the limits of the ground purchased， and the earth was covered with white camellias.“What do you say to that?”said the gardener.

“It is beautiful.”

“And whenever a camellia fades， I have orders to replace it.”

“Who gave you the order?”

“A young gentleman， who cried the first time he came here; an old pal of hers， I suppose， for they say she was a gay one.Very pretty， too， I believe.Did you know her， sir?”

“Yes.”

“Like the other?”said the gardener， with a knowing smile.

“No， I never spoke to her.”

“And you come here， too! It is very good of you， for those that come to see the poor girl don't exactly cumber the cemetery.”

“Doesn't anybody come?”

“Nobody， except that young gentleman who came once.”

“Only once?”

“Yes， sir.”

“He never came back again?”

“No， but he will when he gets home.”

“He is away somewhere?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know where he is?”

“I believe he has gone to see Mlle.Gautier's sister.”

“What does he want there?”

“He has gone to get her authority to have the corpse dug up again and put somewhere else.”

“Why won't he let it remain here?”

“You know， sir， people have queer notions about dead folk.We see something of that every day.The ground here was only bought for five years， and this young gentleman wants a perpetual lease and a bigger plot of ground; it will be better in the new part.”

“What do you call the new part?”

“The new plots of ground that are for sale， there to the left.If the cemetery had always been kept like it is now， there wouldn't be the like of it in the world; but there is still plenty to do before it will be quite all it should be.And then people are so queer!”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that there are people who carry their pride even here.Now， this Demoiselle Gautier， it appears she lived a bit free， if you'll excuse my saying so.Poor lady， she's dead now; there's no more of her left than of them that no one has a word to say against.We water them every day.Well， when the relatives of the folk that are buried beside her found out the sort of person she was， what do you think they said? That they would try to keep her out from here， and that there ought to be a piece of ground somewhere apart for these sort of women， like there is for the poor.Did you ever hear of such a thing? I gave it to them straight， I did: well-to-do folk who come to see their dead four times a year， and bring their flowers themselves， and what flowers! and look twice at the keep of them they pretend to cry over， and write on their tombstones all about the tears they haven't shed， and come and make difficulties about their neighbours.You may believe me or not， sir， I never knew the young lady; I don't know what she did.Well， I'm quite in love with the poor thing; I look after her well， and I let her have her camellias at an honest price.She is the dead body that I like the best.You see， sir， we are obliged to love the dead， for we are kept so busy， we have hardly time to love anything else.”

I looked at the man， and some of my readers will understand， without my needing to explain it to them， the emotion which I felt on hearing him.He observed it， no doubt， for he went on:

“They tell me there were people who ruined themselves over that girl， and lovers that worshipped her; well， when I think there isn't one of them that so much as buys her a flower now， that's queer， sir， and sad.And， after all， she isn't so badly off， for she has her grave to herself， and if there is only one who remembers her， he makes up for the others.But we have other poor girls here， just like her and just her age， and they are just thrown into a pauper's grave， and it breaks my heart when I hear their poor bodies drop into the earth.And not a soul thinks about them any more， once they are dead! 'Tisn't a merry trade， ours， especially when we have a little heart left.What do you expect? I can't help it.I have a fine， strapping girl myself; she's just twenty， and when a girl of that age comes here I think of her， and I don't care if it's a great lady or a vagabond， I can't help feeling it a bit.But I am taking up your time， sir， with my tales， and it wasn't to hear them you came here.I was told to show you Mlle.Gautier's grave; here you have it.Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Do you know M.Armand Duval's address?”I asked.

“Yes; he lives at Rue de —; at least， that's where I always go to get my money for the flowers you see there.”

“Thanks， my good man.”

I gave one more look at the grave covered with flowers， half longing to penetrate the depths of the earth and see what the earth had made of the fair creature that had been cast to it; then I walked sadly away.

“Do you want to see M.Duval， sir?”said the gardener， who was walking beside me.

“Yes.”

“Well， I am pretty sure he is not back yet， or he would have been here already.”

“You don't think he has forgotten Marguerite?”

“I am not only sure he hasn't， but I would wager that he wants to change her grave simply in order to have one more look at her.”

“Why do you think that?”

“The first word he said to me when he came to the cemetery was: ‘How can I see her again?’ That can't be done unless there is a change of grave， and I told him all about the formalities that have to be attended to in getting it done; for， you see， if you want to move a body from one grave to another you must have it identified， and only the family can give leave for it under the direction of a police inspector.That is why M.Duval has gone to see Mlle.Gautier's sister， and you may be sure his first visit will be for me.”

We had come to the cemetery gate.I thanked the gardener again， putting a few coins into his hand， and made my way to the address he had given me.

Armand had not yet returned.I left word for him， begging him to come and see me as soon as he arrived， or to send me word where I could find him.

Next day， in the morning， I received a letter from Duval， telling me of his return， and asking me to call on him， as he was so worn out with fatigue that it was impossible for him to go out.

Chapter 6

I found Armand in bed.On seeing me he held out a burning hand.“You are feverish，”I said to him.

“It is nothing， the fatigue of a rapid journey; that is all.”

“You have been to see Marguerite's sister?”

“Yes; who told you?”

“I knew it.Did you get what you wanted?”

“Yes; but who told you of my journey， and of my reason for taking it?”

“The gardener of the cemetery.”

“You have seen the tomb?”

I scarcely dared reply， for the tone in which the words were spoken proved to me that the speaker was still possessed by the emotion which I had witnessed before， and that every time his thoughts or speech travelled back to that mournful subject emotion would still， for a long time to come， prove stronger than his will.I contented myself with a nod of the head.

“He has looked after it well?”continued Armand.Two big tears rolled down the cheeks of the sick man， and he turned away his head to hide them from me.I pretended not to see them， and tried to change the conversation.“You have been away three weeks，”I said.

Armand passed his hand across his eyes and replied， “Exactly three weeks.”

“You had a long journey.”

“Oh， I was not travelling all the time.I was ill for a fortnight or I should have returned long ago; but I had scarcely got there when I took this fever， and I was obliged to keep my room.”

“And you started to come back before you were really well?”

“If I had remained in the place for another week， I should have died there.”

“Well， now you are back again， you must take care of yourself; your friends will come and look after you; myself， first of all， if you will allow me.”

“I shall get up in a couple of hours.”

“It would be very unwise.”

“I must.”

“What have you to do in such a great hurry?”

“I must go to the inspector of police.”

“Why do you not get one of your friends to see after the matter? It is likely to make you worse than you are now.”

“It is my only chance of getting better.I must see her.Ever since I heard of her death， especially since I saw her grave， I have not been able to sleep.I can not realize that this woman， so young and so beautiful when I left her， is really dead.I must convince myself of it.I must see what God has done with a being that I have loved so much， and perhaps the horror of the sight will cure me of my despair.Will you accompany me， if it won't be troubling you too much?”

“What did her sister say about it?”

“Nothing.She seemed greatly surprised that a stranger wanted to buy a plot of ground and give Marguerite a new grave， and she immediately signed the authorization that I asked her for.”

“Believe me， it would be better to wait until you are quite well.”

“Have no fear; I shall be quite composed.Besides， I should simply go out of my mind if I were not to carry out a resolution which I have set myself to carry out.I swear to you that I shall never be myself again until I have seen Marguerite.It is perhaps the thirst of the fever， a sleepless night's dream， a moment's delirium; but though I were to become a Trappist， like M.de Rance'， after having seen， I will see.”

“I understand，”I said to Armand， “and I am at your service.Have you seen Julie Duprat?”

“Yes， I saw her the day I returned， for the first time.”

“Did she give you the papers that Marguerite had left for you?”

Armand drew a roll of papers from under his pillow， and immediately put them back.

“I know all that is in these papers by heart，”he said.“For three weeks I have read them ten times over every day.You shall read them， too， but later on， when I am calmer， and can make you understand all the love and tenderness hidden away in this confession.For the moment I want you to do me a service.”

“What is it?”

“Your cab is below?”

“Yes.”

“Well， will you take my passport and ask if there are any letters for me at the poste restante? My father and sister must have written to me at Paris， and I went away in such haste that I did not go and see before leaving.When you come back we will go together to the inspector of police， and arrange for to-morrow's ceremony.”

Armand handed me his passport， and I went to Rue Jean Jacques Rousseau.There were two letters addressed to Duval.I took them and returned.When I re-entered the room Armand was dressed and ready to go out.

“Thanks，”he said， taking the letters.“Yes，”he added， after glancing at the addresses， “they are from my father and sister.They must have been quite at a loss to understand my silence.”

He opened the letters， guessed at rather than read them， for each was of four pages; and a moment after folded them up.“Come，”he said， “I will answer tomorrow.”

We went to the police station， and Armand handed in the permission signed by Marguerite's sister.He received in return a letter to the keeper of the cemetery， and it was settled that the disinterment was to take place next day， at ten o'clock， that I should call for him an hour before， and that we should go to the cemetery together.

I confess that I was curious to be present， and I did not sleep all night.Judging from the thoughts which filled my brain， it must have been a long night for Armand.When I entered his room at nine on the following morning he was frightfully pale， but seemed calm.He smiled and held out his hand.His candles were burned out; and before leaving he took a very heavy letter addressed to his father， and no doubt containing an account of that night's impressions.

Half an hour later we were at Montmartre.The police inspector was there already.We walked slowly in the direction of Marguerite's grave.The inspector went in front; Armand and I followed a few steps behind.

From time to time I felt my companion's arm tremble convulsively， as if he shivered from head to feet.I looked at him.He understood the look， and smiled at me; we had not exchanged a word since leaving the house.

Just before we reached the grave， Armand stopped to wipe his face， which was covered with great drops of sweat.I took advantage of the pause to draw in a long breath， for I， too， felt as if I had a weight on my chest.

What is the origin of that mournful pleasure which we find in sights of this kind? When we reached the grave the gardener had removed all the flower-pots， the iron railing had been taken away， and two men were turning up the soil.

Armand leaned against a tree and watched.All his life seemed to pass before his eyes.Suddenly one of the two pickaxes struck against a stone.At the sound Armand recoiled， as at an electric shock， and seized my hand with such force as to give me pain.

One of the grave-diggers took a shovel and began emptying out the earth; then， when only the stones covering the coffin were left， he threw them out one by one.

I scrutinized Armand， for every moment I was afraid lest the emotions which he was visibly repressing should prove too much for him; but he still watched， his eyes fixed and wide open， like the eyes of a madman， and a slight trembling of the cheeks and lips were the only signs of the violent nervous crisis under which he was suffering.

As for me， all I can say is that I regretted having come.

When the coffin was uncovered the inspector said to the grave-digger: “Open it.”They obeyed， as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

The coffin was of oak， and they began to unscrew the lid.The humidity of the earth had rusted the screws， and it was not without some difficulty that the coffin was opened.A painful odour arose in spite of the aromatic plants with which it was covered.

“O my God， my God!”murmured Armand， and turned paler than before.

Even the grave-digger drew back.

A great white shroud covered the corpse， closely outlining some of its contours.This shroud was almost completely eaten away at one end， and left one of the feet visible.

I was nearly fainting， and at the moment of writing these lines I see the whole scene over again in all its imposing reality.

“Quick，”said the inspector.Thereupon one of the men put out his hand， began to unsew the shroud， and taking hold of it by one end suddenly laid bare the face of Marguerite.

It was terrible to see， it is horrible to relate.The eyes were nothing but two holes， the lips had disappeared， vanished， and the white teeth were tightly set.The black hair， long and dry， was pressed tightly about the forehead， and half veiled the green hollows of the cheeks; and yet I recognised in this face the joyous white and rose face that I had seen so often.

Armand， unable to turn away his eyes， had put the handkerchief to his mouth and bit it.

For my part， it was as if a circle of iron tightened about my head， a veil covered my eyes， a rumbling filled my ears， and all I could do was to unstop a smelling bottle which I happened to have with me， and to draw in long breaths of it.

Through this bewilderment I heard the inspector say to Duval， “Do you identify?”

“Yes，”replied the young man in a dull voice.

“Then fasten it up and take it away，”said the inspector.

The grave-diggers put back the shroud over the face of the corpse， fastened up the coffin， took hold of each end of it， and began to carry it toward the place where they had been told to take it.

Armand did not move.His eyes were fixed upon the empty grave; he was as white as the corpse which we had just seen.He looked as if he had been turned to stone.

I saw what was coming as soon as the pain caused by the spectacle should have abated and thus ceased to sustain him.I went up to the inspector.“Is this gentleman's presence still necessary?”I said， pointing to Armand.

“No，”he replied， “and I should advise you to take him away.He looks ill.”

“Come，”I said to Armand， taking him by the arm.

“What?”he said， looking at me as if he did not recognise me.

“It is all over，”I added.“You must come， my friend; you are quite white; you are cold.These emotions will be too much for you.”

“You are right.Let us go，”he answered mechanically， but without moving a step.

I took him by the arm and led him along.He let himself be guided like a child， only from time to time murmuring， “Did you see her eyes?”and he turned as if the vision had recalled her.

Nevertheless， his steps became more irregular; he seemed to walk by a series of jerks; his teeth chattered; his hands were cold; a violent agitation ran through his body.I spoke to him; he did not answer.He was just able to let himself be led along.A cab was waiting at the gate.It was only just in time.Scarcely had he seated himself， when the shivering became more violent， and he had an actual attack of nerves， in the midst of which his fear of frightening me made him press my hand and whisper: “It is nothing， nothing.I want to weep.”

His chest laboured， his eyes were injected with blood， but no tears came.I made him smell the salts which I had with me， and when we reached his house only the shivering remained.

With the help of his servant I put him to bed， lit a big fire in his room， and hurried off to my doctor， to whom I told all that had happened.He hastened with me.

Armand was flushed and delirious; he stammered out disconnected words， in which only the name of Marguerite could be distinctly heard.

“Well?”I said to the doctor when he had examined the patient.

“Well， he has neither more nor less than brain fever， and very lucky it is for him， for I firmly believe （God forgive me!） that he would have gone out of his mind.Fortunately， the physical malady will kill the mental one， and in a month's time he will be free from the one and perhaps from the other.”

Chapter 7

Illnesses like Armand's have one fortunate thing about them: they either kill outright or are very soon overcome.A fortnight after the events which I have just related Armand was convalescent， and we had already become great friends.During the whole course of his illness I had hardly left his side.

Spring was profuse in its flowers， its leaves， its birds， its songs; and my friend's window opened gaily upon his garden， from which a reviving breath of health seemed to come to him.The doctor had allowed him to get up， and we often sat talking at the open window， at the hour when the sun is at its height， from twelve to two.I was careful not to refer to Marguerite， fearing lest the name should awaken sad recollections hidden under the apparent calm of the invalid; but Armand， on the contrary， seemed to delight in speaking of her， not as formerly， with tears in his eyes， but with a sweet smile which reassured me as to the state of his mind.

I had noticed that ever since his last visit to the cemetery， and the sight which had brought on so violent a crisis， sorrow seemed to have been overcome by sickness， and Marguerite's death no longer appeared to him under its former aspect.A kind of consolation had sprung from the certainty of which he was now fully persuaded， and in order to banish the sombre picture which often presented itself to him， he returned upon the happy recollections of his liaison with Marguerite， and seemed resolved to think of nothing else.

The body was too much weakened by the attack of fever， and even by the process of its cure， to permit him any violent emotions， and the universal joy of spring which wrapped him round carried his thoughts instinctively to images of joy.He had always obstinately refused to tell his family of the danger which he had been in， and when he was well again his father did not even know that he had been ill.

One evening we had sat at the window later than usual; the weather had been superb， and the sun sank to sleep in a twilight dazzling with gold and azure.Though we were in Paris， the verdure which surrounded us seemed to shut us off from the world， and our conversation was only now and again disturbed by the sound of a passing vehicle.

“It was about this time of the year， on the evening of a day like this， that I first met Marguerite，”said Armand to me， as if he were listening to his own thoughts rather than to what I was saying.I did not answer.Then turning toward me， he said， “I must tell you the whole story; you will make a book out of it; no one will believe it， but it will perhaps be interesting to do.”

“You will tell me all about it later on， my friend，”I said to him; “you are not strong enough yet.”

“It is a warm evening， I have eaten my ration of chicken，”he said to me， smiling; “I have no fever， we have nothing to do， I will tell it to you now.”

“Since you really wish it， I will listen.”

This is what he told me， and I have scarcely changed a word of the touching story.

Yes （Armand went on， letting his head sink back on the chair）， yes， it was just such an evening as this.I had spent the day in the country with one of my friends， Gaston R—.We returned to Paris in the evening， and not knowing what to do we went to the Varietes.We went out during one of the entr'actes， and a tall woman passed us in the corridor， to whom my friend bowed.

“Whom are you bowing to?”I asked.

“Marguerite Gautier，”he said.

“She seems much changed， for I did not recognise her，”I said， with an emotion that you will soon understand.

“She has been ill; the poor girl won't last long.”

I remember the words as if they had been spoken to me yesterday.

I must tell you， my friend， that for two years the sight of this girl had made a strange impression on me whenever I came across her.Without knowing why， I turned pale and my heart beat violently.I have a friend who studies the occult sciences， and he would call what I experienced “the affinity of fluids”; as for me， I only know that I was fated to fall in love with Marguerite， and that I foresaw it.

It is certainly the fact that she made a very definite impression upon me， that many of my friends had noticed it and that they had been much amused when they saw who it was that made this impression upon me.

The first time I ever saw her was in the Place de la Bourse， outside Susse's; an open carriage was stationed there， and a woman dressed in white got down from it.A murmur of admiration greeted her as she entered the shop.As for me， I was rivetted to the spot from the moment she went in till the moment when she came out again.I could see her through the shop windows selecting what she had come to buy.I might have gone in， but I dared not.I did not know who she was， and I was afraid lest she should guess why I had come in and be offended.Nevertheless， I did not think I should ever see her again.

She was elegantly dressed; she wore a muslin dress with many flounces， an Indian shawl embroidered at the corners with gold and silk flowers， a straw hat， a single bracelet， and a heavy gold chain， such as was just then beginning to be the fashion.

She returned to her carriage and drove away.One of the shopmen stood at the door looking after his elegant customer's carriage.I went up to him and asked him what was the lady's name.

“Mademoiselle Marguerite Gautier，”he replied.I dared not ask him for her address， and went on my way.

The recollection of this vision， for it was really a vision， would not leave my mind like so many visions I had seen， and I looked everywhere for this royally beautiful woman in white.

A few days later there was a great performance at the Opera Comique.The first person I saw in one of the boxes was Marguerite Gautier.

The young man whom I was with recognised her immediately， for he said to me， mentioning her name: “Look at that pretty girl.”

At that moment Marguerite turned her opera-glass in our direction and， seeing my friend， smiled and beckoned to him to come to her.

“I will go and say ‘How do you do?’ to her，”he said， “and will be back in a moment.”

I could not help saying “Happy man!”

“Why?”

“To go and see that woman.”

“Are you in love with her?”

“No，”I said， flushing， for I really did not know what to say; “but I should very much like to know her.”

“Come with me.I will introduce you.”

“Ask her if you may.”

“Really， there is no need to be particular with her; come.”

What he said troubled me.I feared to discover that Marguerite was not worthy of the sentiment which I felt for her.

In a book of Alphonse Karr entitles Am Rauchen， there is a man who one evening follows a very elegant woman， with whom he had fallen in love with at first sight on account of her beauty.Only to kiss her hand he felt that he had the strength to undertake anything， the will to conquer anything， the courage to achieve anything.He scarcely dares glance at the trim ankle which she shows as she holds her dress out of the mud.While he is dreaming of all that he would do to possess this woman， she stops at the corner of the street and asks if he will come home with her.He turns his head， crosses the street， and goes sadly back to his own house.

I recalled the story， and， having longed to suffer for this woman， I was afraid that she would accept me too promptly and give me at once what I fain would have purchased by long waiting or some great sacrifice.We men are built like that， and it is very fortunate that the imagination lends so much poetry to the senses， and that the desires of the body make thus such concession to the dreams of the soul.If any one had said to me， “You shall have this woman to-night and be killed tomorrow.”I would have accepted.If any one had said to me， “You can be her lover for ten pounds.”I would have refused.I would have cried like a child who sees the castle he has been dreaming about vanish away as he awakens from sleep.

All the same， I wished to know her; it was my only means of making up my mind about her.I therefore said to my friend that I insisted on having her permission to be introduced to her， and I wandered to and fro in the corridors， saying to myself that in a moment's time she was going to see me， and that I should not know which way to look.I tried （sublime childishness of love!） to string together the words I should say to her.

A moment after my friend returned.“She is expecting us，”he said.

“Is she alone?”I asked.

“With another woman.”

“There are no men?”

“No.”

“Come， then.”

My friend went toward the door of the theatre.

“That is not the way，”I said.

“We must go and get some sweets.She asked me for some.”

We went into a confectioner's in the passage de l'Opera.I would have bought the whole shop， and I was looking about to see what sweets to choose， when my friend asked for a pound of raisins glaces.

“Do you know if she likes them?”

“She eats no other kind of sweets; everybody knows it.”

“Ah，”he went on when we had left the shop， “do you know what kind of woman it is that I am going to introduce you to? Don't imagine it is a duchess.It is simply a kept woman， very much kept， my dear fellow; don't be shy， say anything that comes into your head.”

“Yes， yes，”I stammered， and I followed him， saying to myself that I should soon cure myself of my passion.

When I entered the box Marguerite was in fits of laughter.I would rather that she had been sad.My friend introduced me; Marguerite gave me a little nod， and said， “And my sweets?”

“Here they are.”

She looked at me as she took them.I dropped my eyes and blushed.

She leaned across to her neighbour and said something in her ear， at which both laughed.Evidently I was the cause of their mirth， and my embarrassment increased.At that time I had as mistress a very affectionate and sentimental little person， whose sentiment and whose melancholy letters amused me greatly.I realized the pain I must have given her by what I now experienced， and for five minutes I loved her as no woman was ever loved.

Marguerite ate her raisins glaces without taking any more notice of me.The friend who had introduced me did not wish to let me remain in so ridiculous a position.

“Marguerite，”he said， “you must not be surprised if M.Duval says nothing: you overwhelm him to such a degree that he can not find a word to say.”

“I should say， on the contrary， that he has only come with you because it would have bored you to come here by yourself.”

“If that were true，”I said， “I should not have begged Ernest to ask your permission to introduce me.”

“Perhaps that was only in order to put off the fatal moment.”

However little one may have known women like Marguerite， one can not but know the delight they take in pretending to be witty and in teasing the people whom they meet for the first time.It is no doubt a return for the humiliations which they often have to submit to on the part of those whom they see every day.

To answer them properly， one requires a certain knack， and I had not had the opportunity of acquiring it; besides， the idea that I had formed of Marguerite accentuated the effects of her mockery.Nothing that dame from her was indifferent to me.I rose to my feet， saying in an altered voice， which I could not entirely control:

“If that is what you think of me， madame， I have only to ask your pardon for my indiscretion， and to take leave of you with the assurance that it shall not occur again.”

Thereupon I bowed and quitted the box.I had scarcely closed the door when I heard a third peal of laughter.It would not have been well for anybody who had elbowed me at that moment.

I returned to my seat.The signal for raising the curtain was given.Ernest came back to his place beside me.

“What a way you behaved!”he said， as he sat down.“They will think you are mad.”

“What did Marguerite say after I had gone?”

“She laughed， and said she had never seen any one so funny.But don't look upon it as a lost chance; only do not do these women the honour of taking them seriously.They do not know what politeness and ceremony are.It is as if you were to offer perfumes to dogs—they would think it smelled bad， and go and roll in the gutter.”

“After all， what does it matter to me?”I said， affecting to speak in a nonchalant way.“I shall never see this woman again， and if I liked her before meeting her， it is quite different now that I know her.”

“Bah! I don't despair of seeing you one day at the back of her box， and of bearing that you are ruining yourself for her.However， you are right， she hasn't been well brought up; but she would be a charming mistress to have.”

Happily， the curtain rose and my friend was silent.I could not possibly tell you what they were acting.All that I remember is that from time to time I raised my eyes to the box I had quitted so abruptly， and that the faces of fresh visitors succeeded one another all the time.

I was far from having given up thinking about Marguerite.Another feeling had taken possession of me.It seemed to me that I had her insult and my absurdity to wipe out; I said to myself that if I spent every penny I had， I would win her and win my right to the place I had abandoned so quickly.

Before the performance was over Marguerite and her friend left the box.I rose from my seat.

“Are you going?”said Ernest.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

At that moment he saw that the box was empty.

“Go， go，”he said， “and good luck， or rather better luck.”

I went out.

I heard the rustle of dresses， the sound of voices， on the staircase.I stood aside， and， without being seen， saw the two women pass me， accompanied by two young men.At the entrance to the theatre they were met by a footman.

“Tell the coachman to wait at the door of the Cafe' Anglais，”said Marguerite.“We will walk there.”

A few minutes afterward I saw Marguerite from the street at a window of one of the large rooms of the restaurant， pulling the camellias of her bouquet to pieces， one by one.One of the two men was leaning over her shoulder and whispering in her ear.I took up my position at the Maison-d'or， in one of the first-floor rooms， and did not lose sight of the window for an instant.At one in the morning Marguerite got into her carriage with her three friends.I took a cab and followed them.The carriage stopped at No.9， Rue d'Antin.Marguerite got out and went in alone.It was no doubt a mere chance， but the chance filled me with delight.

From that time forward， I often met Marguerite at the theatre or in the Champs-Elysees.Always there was the same gaiety in her， the same emotion in me.

At last a fortnight passed without my meeting her.I met Gaston and asked after her.

“Poor girl， she is very ill，”he answered.

“What is the matter?”

“She is consumptive， and the sort of life she leads isn't exactly the thing to cure her.She has taken to her bed; she is dying.”

The heart is a strange thing; I was almost glad at hearing it.

Every day I went to ask after her， without leaving my name or my card.I heard she was convalescent and had gone to Bagneres.

Time went by， the impression， if not the memory， faded gradually from my mind.I travelled; love affairs， habits， work， took the place of other thoughts， and when I recalled this adventure I looked upon it as one of those passions which one has when one is very young， and laughs at soon afterward.

For the rest， it was no credit to me to have got the better of this recollection， for I had completely lost sight of Marguerite， and， as I told you， when she passed me in the corridor of the Varietes， I did not recognise her.She was veiled， it is true; but， veiled though she might have been two years earlier， I should not have needed to see her in order to recognise her: I should have known her intuitively.All the same， my heart began to beat when I knew that it was she; and the two years that had passed since I saw her， and what had seemed to be the results of that separation， vanished in smoke at the mere touch of her dress.

Chapter 8

However （continued Armand after a pause）， while I knew myself to be still in love with her， I felt more sure of myself， and part of my desire to speak to Marguerite again was a wish to make her see that I was stronger than she.

How many ways does the heart take， how many reasons does it invent for itself， in order to arrive at what it wants!

I could not remain in the corridor， and I returned to my place in the stalls， looking hastily around to see what box she was in.She was in a ground-floor box， quite alone.She had changed， as I have told you， and no longer wore an indifferent smile on her lips.She had suffered; she was still suffering.Though it was April， she was still wearing a winter costume， all wrapped up in furs.

I gazed at her so fixedly that my eyes attracted hers.She looked at me for a few seconds， put up her opera-glass to see me better， and seemed to think she recognised me， without being quite sure who I was， for when she put down her glasses， a smile， that charming， feminine salutation， flitted across her lips， as if to answer the bow which she seemed to expect; but I did not respond， so as to have an advantage over her， as if I had forgotten， while she remembered.Supposing herself mistaken， she looked away.

The curtain went up.I have often seen Marguerite at the theatre.I never saw her pay the slightest attention to what was being acted.As for me， the performance interested me equally little， and I paid no attention to anything but her， though doing my utmost to keep her from noticing it.

Presently I saw her glancing across at the person who was in the opposite box; on looking， I saw a woman with whom I was quite familiar.She had once been a kept woman， and had tried to go on the stage， had failed， and， relying on her acquaintance with fashionable people in Paris， had gone into business and taken a milliner's shop.I saw in her a means of meeting with Marguerite， and profited by a moment in which she looked my way to wave my hand to her.As I expected， she beckoned to me to come to her box.

Prudence Duvernoy （that was the milliner's auspicious name） was one of those fat women of forty with whom one requires very little diplomacy to make them understand what one wants to know， especially when what one wants to know is as simple as what I had to ask of her.

I took advantage of a moment when she was smiling across at Marguerite to ask her， “Whom are you looking at?”

“Marguerite Gautier.”

“You know her?”

“Yes， I am her milliner， and she is a neighbour of mine.”

“Do you live in the Rue d'Antin?”

“No.7.The window of her dressing-room looks on to the window of mine.”

“They say she is a charming girl.”

“Don't you know her?”

“No， but I should like to.”

“Shall I ask her to come over to our box?”

“No， I would rather for you to introduce me to her.”

“At her own house?”

“Yes.”

“That is more difficult.”

“Why?”

“Because she is under the protection of a jealous old duke.”

“‘Protection’ is charming.”

“Yes， protection，”replied Prudence.“Poor old man， he would be greatly embarrassed to offer her anything else.”

Prudence then told me how Marguerite had made the acquaintance of the duke at Bagneres.

“That， then，”I continued， “is why she is alone here?”

“Precisely.”

“But who will see her home?”

“He will.”

“He will come for her?”

“In a moment.”

“And you， who is seeing you home?”

“No one.”

“May I offer myself?”

“But you are with a friend， are you not?”

“May we offer， then?”

“Who is your friend?”

“A charming fellow， very amusing.He will be delighted to make your acquaintance.”

“Well， all right; we will go after this piece is over， for I know the last piece.”

“With pleasure; I will go and tell my friend.”

“Go， then.Ah，”added Prudence， as I was going， “there is the duke just coming into Marguerite's box.”

I looked at him.A man of about seventy had sat down behind her， and was giving her a bag of sweets， into which she dipped at once， smiling.Then she held it out toward Prudence， with a gesture which seemed to say， “Will you have some?”

“No，”signalled Prudence.

Marguerite drew back the bag， and， turning， began to talk with the duke.

It may sound childish to tell you all these details， but everything relating to Marguerite is so fresh in my memory that I can not help recalling them now.

I went back to Gaston and told him of the arrangement I had made for him and for me.He agreed， and we left our stalls to go round to Mme.Duvernoy's box.We had scarcely opened the door leading into the stalls when we had to stand aside to allow Marguerite and the duke to pass.I would have given ten years of my life to have been in the old man's place.

When they were on the street he handed her into a phaeton， which he drove himself， and they were whirled away by two superb horses.

We returned to Prudence's box， and when the play was over we took a cab and drove to 7， Rue d'Antin.At the door， Prudence asked us to come up and see her showrooms， which we had never seen， and of which she seemed very proud.You can imagine how eagerly I accepted.It seemed to me as if I was coming nearer and nearer to Marguerite.I soon turned the conversation in her direction.

“The old duke is at your neighbours，”I said to Prudence.

“Oh， no; she is probably alone.”

“But she must be dreadfully bored，”said Gaston.

“We spend most of our evening together， or she calls to me when she comes in.She never goes to bed before two in the morning.She can't sleep before that.”

“Why?”

“Because she suffers in the chest， and is almost always feverish.”

“Hasn't she any lovers?”I asked.

“I never see any one remain after I leave; I don't say no one ever comes when I am gone.Often in the evening I meet there a certain Comte de N.， who thinks he is making some headway by calling on her at eleven in the evening， and by sending her jewels to any extent; but she can't stand him.She makes a mistake; he is very rich.It is in vain that I say to her from time to time， ‘My dear child， there's the man for you.’ She， who generally listens to me， turns her back and replies that he is too stupid.Stupid， indeed， he is; but it would be a position for her， while this old duke might die any day.Old men are egoists; his family are always reproaching him for his affection for Marguerite; there are two reasons why he is likely to leave her nothing.I give her good advice， and she only says it will be plenty of time to take on the count when the duke is dead. “It isn't all fun，”continued Prudence， “to live like that.I know very well it wouldn't suit me， and I should soon send the old man about his business.He is so dull; he calls her his daughter; looks after her like a child; and is always in the way.I am sure at this very moment one of his servants is prowling about in the street to see who comes out， and especially who goes in.”

“Ah， poor Marguerite!”said Gaston， sitting down to the piano and playing a waltz.“I hadn't a notion of it， but I did notice she hasn't been looking so gay lately.”

“Hush，”said Prudence， listening.Gaston stopped.

“She is calling me， I think.”

We listened.A voice was calling， “Prudence!”

“Come， now， you must go，”said Mme.Duvernoy.

“Ah， that is your idea of hospitality，”said Gaston， laughing; “we won't go till we please.”

“Why should we go?”

“I am going over to Marguerite's.”

“We will wait here.”

“You can't.”

“Then we will go with you.”

“That still less.”

“I know Marguerite，”said Gaston; “I can very well pay her a call.”

“But Armand doesn't know her.”

“I will introduce him.”

“Impossible.”

We again heard Marguerite's voice calling to Prudence， who rushed to her dressing-room window.I followed with Gaston as she opened the window.We hid ourselves so as not to be seen from outside.

“I have been calling you for ten minutes，”said Marguerite from her window， in almost an imperious tone of voice.

“What do you want?”

“I want you to come over at once.”

“Why?”

“Because the Comte de N.is still here， and he is boring me to death.”

“I can't now.”

“What is hindering you?”

“There are two young fellows here who won't go.”

“Tell them that you must go out.”

“I have told them.”

“Well， then， leave them in the house.They will soon go when they see you have gone.”

“They will turn everything upside down.”

“But what do they want?”

“They want to see you.”

“What are they called?”

“You know one， M.Gaston R.”

“Ah， yes， I know him.And the other?”

“M.Armand Duval; and you don't know him.”

“No， but bring them along.Anything is better than the count.I expect you.Come at once.”

Marguerite closed her window and Prudence hers.Marguerite， who had remembered my face for a moment， did not remember my name.I would rather have been remembered to my disadvantage than thus forgotten.

“I knew，”said Gaston， “that she would be delighted to see us.”

“Delighted isn't the word，”replied Prudence， as she put on her hat and shawl.“She will see you in order to get rid of the count.Try to be more agreeable than he is， or （I know Marguerite） she will put it all down to me.”

We followed Prudence downstairs.I trembled; it seemed to me that this visit was to have a great influence on my life.I was still more agitated than on the evening when I was introduced in the box at the Opera Comique.As we reached the door that you know， my heart beat so violently that I was hardly able to think.

We heard the sound of a piano.Prudence rang.The piano was silent.A woman who looked more like a companion than a servant opened the door.We went into the drawing-room， and from that to the boudoir， which was then just as you have seen it since.A young man was leaning against the mantel-piece.Marguerite， seated at the piano， let her fingers wander over the notes， beginning scraps of music without finishing them.The whole scene breathed boredom， the man embarrassed by the consciousness of his nullity， the woman tired of her dismal visitor.At the voice of Prudence， Marguerite rose， and coming toward us with a look of gratitude to Mme.Duvernoy， said:

“Come in， and welcome.”

Chapter 9

“Good-evening， my dear Gaston，”said Marguerite to my companion.“I am very glad to see you.Why didn't you come to see me in my box at the Varietes?”

“I was afraid it would be indiscreet.”

“Friends，”and Marguerite lingered over the word， as if to intimate to those who were present that in spite of the familiar way in which she greeted him， Gaston was not and never had been anything more than a friend， “friends are always welcome.”

“Then， will you permit me to introduce M.Armand Duval?”

“I had already authorized Prudence to do so.”

“As far as that goes， madame，”I said， bowing， and succeeding in getting more or less intelligible sounds out of my throat， “I have already had the honour of being introduced to you.”

Marguerite's beautiful eyes seemed to be looking back in memory， but she could not， or seemed not to， remember.

“Madame，”I continued， “I am grateful to you for having forgotten the occasion of my first introduction， for I was very absurd and must have seemed to you very tiresome.It was at the Opera Comique， two years ago; I was with Ernest de —.”

“Ah， I remember，”said Marguerite， with a smile.“It was not you who were absurd; it was I who was mischievous， as I still am， but somewhat less.You have forgiven me?”

And she held out her hand， which I kissed.

“It is true，”she went on; “you know I have the bad habit of trying to embarrass people the first time I meet them.It is very stupid.My doctor says it is because I am nervous and always ill; believe my doctor.”

“But you seem quite well.”

“Oh! I have been very ill.”

“I know.”

“Who told you?”

“Every one knew it; I often came to inquire after you， and I was happy to hear of your convalescence.”

“They never gave me your card.”

“I did not leave it.”

“Was it you， then， who called every day while I was ill， and would never leave your name?”

“Yes， it was I.”

“Then you are more than indulgent， you are generous.You， count， wouldn't have done that，”said she， turning toward M.de N.， after giving me one of those looks in which women sum up their opinion of a man.

“I have only known you for two months，”replied the count.

“And this gentleman only for five minutes.You always say something ridiculous.”

Women are pitiless toward those whom they do not care for.The count reddened and bit his lips.

I was sorry for him， for he seemed， like myself， to be in love， and the bitter frankness of Marguerite must have made him very unhappy， especially in the presence of two strangers.

“You were playing the piano when we came in，”I said， in order to change the conversation.“Won't you be so good as to treat me as an old acquaintance and go on?”

“Oh，”said she， flinging herself on the sofa and motioning to us to sit down， “Gaston knows what my music is like.It is all very well when I am alone with the count， but I won't inflict such a punishment on you.”

“You show me that preference?”said M.de N.， with a smile which he tried to render delicately ironical.

“Don't reproach me for it.It is the only one.”It was fated that the poor man was not to say a single word.He cast a really supplicating glance at Marguerite.

“Well， Prudence，”she went on， “have you done what I asked you to do?”

“Yes.”

“All right.You will tell me about it later.We must talk over it; don't go before I can speak with you.”

“We are doubtless intruders，”I said， “and now that we， or rather I， have had a second introduction， to blot out the first， it is time for Gaston and me to be going.”

“Not in the least.I didn't mean that for you.I want you to stay.”

The count took a very elegant watch out of his pocket and looked at the time.“I must be going to my club，”he said.Marguerite did not answer.The count thereupon left his position by the fireplace and going up to her， said: “Adieu， madame.”

Marguerite rose.“Adieu， my dear count.Are you going already?”

“Yes， I fear I am boring you.”

“You are not boring me to-day more than any other day.When shall I be seeing you?”

“When you permit me.”

“Good-bye， then.”

It was cruel， you will admit.Fortunately， the count had excellent manners and was very good-tempered.He merely kissed Marguerite's hand， which she held out to him carelessly enough， and， bowing to us， went out.

As he crossed the threshold， he cast a glance at Prudence.She shrugged her shoulders， as much as to say: “What do you expect? I have done all I could.”

“Nanine!”cried Marguerite.“Light Mde Comte to the door.”

We heard the door open and shut.

“At last，”cried Marguerite， coming back， “he has gone! That man gets frightfully on my nerves!”

“My dear child，”said Prudence， “you really treat him too badly， and he is so good and kind to you.Look at this watch on the mantel-piece， that he gave you: it must have cost him at least three thousand francs， I am sure.”

And Mme.Duvernoy began to turn it over， as it lay on the mantel-piece， looking at it with covetous eyes.

“My dear，”said Marguerite， sitting down to the piano， “when I put on one side what he gives me and on the other what he says to me， it seems to me that he buys his visits very cheap.”

“The poor fellow is in love with you.”

“If I had to listen to everybody who was in love with me， I shouldn't have time for my dinner.”

And she began to run her fingers over the piano， and then， turning to us， she said:

“What will you take? I think I should like a little punch.”

“And I could eat a little chicken，”said Prudence.“Suppose we have supper?”

“That's it， let's go and have supper，”said Gaston.

“No， we will have supper here.”

She rang， and Nanine appeared.

“Send for some supper.”

“What must I get?”

“Whatever you like， but at once， at once.”

Nanine went out.

“That's it，”said Marguerite， jumping like a child， “we'll have supper.How tiresome that idiot of a count is!”

The more I saw her， the more she enchanted me.She was exquisitely beautiful.Her slenderness was a charm.I was lost in contemplation.

What was passing in my mind I should have some difficulty in explaining.I was full of indulgence for her life， full of admiration for her beauty.The proof of disinterestedness that she gave in not accepting a rich and fashionable young man， ready to waste all his money upon her， excused her in my eyes for all her faults in the past.

There was a kind of candour in this woman.You could see she was still in the virginity of vice.Her firm walk， her supple figure， her rosy， open nostrils， her large eyes， slightly tinged with blue， indicated one of those ardent natures which shed around them a sort of voluptuous perfume， like Eastern vials， which， close them as tightly as you will， still let some of their perfume escape.Finally， whether it was simple nature or a breath of fever， there passed from time to time in the eyes of this woman a glimmer of desire， giving promise of a very heaven for one whom she should love.But those who had loved Marguerite were not to be counted， nor those whom she had loved.

In this girl there was at once the virgin whom a mere nothing had turned into a courtesan， and the courtesan whom a mere nothing would have turned into the most loving and the purest of virgins.Marguerite had still pride and independence， two sentiments which， if they are wounded， can be the equivalent of a sense of shame.I did not speak a word; my soul seemed to have passed into my heart and my heart into my eyes.

“So，”said she all at once， “it was you who came to inquire after me when I was ill?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know， it was quite splendid of you! How can I thank you for it?”

“By allowing me to come and see you from time to time.”

“As often as you like， from five to six， and from eleven to twelve.Now， Gaston， play the Invitation A la Valse.”

“Why?”

“To please me， first of all， and then because I never can manage to play it myself.”

“What part do you find difficult?”

“The third part， the part in sharps.”

Gaston rose and went to the piano， and began to play the wonderful melody of Weber， the music of which stood open before him.

Marguerite， resting one hand on the piano， followed every note on the music， accompanying it in a low voice， and when Gaston had come to the passage which she had mentioned to him， she sang out， running her fingers along the top of the piano:

“Do， re， mi， do， re， fa， mi， re; that is what I can not do.Over again.”

Gaston began over again， after which Marguerite said:

“Now， let me try.”

She took her place and began to play; but her rebellious fingers always came to grief over one of the notes.

“Isn't it incredible，”she said， exactly like a child， “that I can not succeed in playing that passage? Would you believe that I sometimes spend two hours of the morning over it? And when I think that that idiot of a count plays it without his music， and beautifully， I really believe it is that that makes me so furious with him.”And she began again， always with the same result.

“The devil take Weber， music， and pianos!”she cried， throwing the music to the other end of the room.“How can I play eight sharps one after another?”She folded her arms and looked at us， stamping her foot.The blood flew to her cheeks， and her lips half opened in a slight cough.

“Come， come，”said Prudence， who had taken off her hat and was smoothing her hair before the glass， “you will work yourself into a rage and do yourself harm.Better come and have supper; for my part， I am dying of hunger.”

Marguerite rang the bell， sat down to the piano again， and began to hum over a very risky song， which she accompanied without difficulty.Gaston knew the song， and they gave a sort of duet.

“Don't sing those beastly things，”I said to Marguerite， imploringly.

“Oh， how proper you are!”she said， smiling and giving me her hand.“It is not for myself， but for you.”

Marguerite made a gesture as if to say， “Oh， it is long since that I have done with propriety!”At that moment Nanine appeared.

“Is supper ready?”asked Marguerite.

“Yes， madame， in one moment.”

“Apropos，”said Prudence to me， “you have not looked round; come， and I will show you.”As you know， the drawing-room was a marvel.

Marguerite went with us for a moment; then she called Gaston and went into the dining-room with him to see if supper was ready.

“Ah，”said Prudence， catching sight of a little Saxe figure on a side-table， “I never knew you had this little gentleman.”

“Which?”

“A little shepherd holding a bird-cage.”

“Take it， if you like it.”

“I won't deprive you of it.”

“I was going to give it to my maid.I think it hideous; but if you like it， take it.”

Prudence only saw the present， not the way in which it was given.She put the little figure on one side， and took me into the dressing-room， where she showed me two miniatures hanging side by side， and said:

“That is the Comte de G.， who was very much in love with Marguerite; it was he who brought her out.Do you know him?”

“No.And this one?”I inquired， pointing to the other miniature.

“That is the little Vicomte de L.He was obliged to disappear.”

“Why?”

“Because he was all but ruined.That's one， if you like， who loved Marguerite.”

“And she loved him， too， no doubt?”

“She is such a queer girl， one never knows.The night he went away she went to the theatre as usual， and yet she had cried when he said good-bye to her.”

Just then Nanine appeared， to tell us that supper was served.

When we entered the dining-room， Marguerite was leaning against the wall， and Gaston， holding her hands， was speaking to her in a low voice.

“You are mad，”replied Marguerite.“You know quite well that I don't want you.It is no good at the end of two years to make love to a woman like me.With us， it is at once， or never.Come， gentlemen， supper!”

And， slipping away from Gaston， Marguerite made him sit on her right at table， me on her left， then called to Nanine:

“Before you sit down， tell them in the kitchen not to open to anybody if there is a ring.”

This order was given at one o'clock in the morning.

We laughed， drank， and ate freely at this supper.In a short while mirth had reached its last limit， and the words that seem funny to a certain class of people， words that degrade the mouth that utters them， were heard from time to time， amidst the applause of Nanine， of Prudence， and of Marguerite.Gaston was thoroughly amused; he was a very good sort of fellow， but somewhat spoiled by the habits of his youth.For a moment I tried to forget myself， to force my heart and my thoughts to become indifferent to the sight before me， and to take my share of that gaiety which seemed like one of the courses of the meal.But little by little I withdrew from the noise; my glass remained full， and I felt almost sad as I saw this beautiful creature of twenty drinking， talking like a porter， and laughing the more loudly the more scandalous was the joke.

Nevertheless， this hilarity， this way of talking and drinking， which seemed to me in the others the mere results of bad company or of bad habits， seemed in Marguerite a necessity of forgetting， a fever， a nervous irritability.At every glass of champagne her cheeks would flush with a feverish colour， and a cough， hardly perceptible at the beginning of supper， became at last so violent that she was obliged to lean her head on the back of her chair and hold her chest in her hands every time that she coughed.I suffered at the thought of the injury to so frail a constitution which must come from daily excesses like this.At length， something which I had feared and foreseen happened.Toward the end of supper Marguerite was seized by a more violent fit of coughing than any she had had while I was there.It seemed as if her chest were being torn in two.The poor girl turned crimson， closed her eyes under the pain， and put her napkin to her lips.It was stained with a drop of blood.She rose and ran into her dressing-room.

“What is the matter with Marguerite?”asked Gaston.

“She has been laughing too much， and she is spitting blood.Oh， it is nothing; it happens to her every day.She will be back in a minute.Leave her alone.She prefers it.”

I could not stay still; and， to the consternation of Prudence and Nanine， who called to me to come back， I followed Marguerite.

Chapter 10

The room to which she had fled was lit only by a single candle.She lay back on a great sofa， her dress undone， holding one hand on her heart， and letting the other hang by her side.On the table was a basin half full of water， and the water was stained with streaks of blood.

Very pale， her mouth half open， Marguerite tried to recover breath.Now and again her bosom was raised by a long sigh， which seemed to relieve her a little， and for a few seconds she would seem to be quite comfortable.

I went up to her; she made no movement， and I sat down and took the hand which was lying on the sofa.

“Ah! it is you，”she said， with a smile.

I must have looked greatly agitated， for she added:

“Are you unwell， too?”

“No， but you: do you still suffer?”

“Very little;”and she wiped off with her handkerchief the tears which the coughing had brought to her eyes; “I am used to it now.”

“You are killing yourself， madame，”I said to her in a moved voice.“I wish I were a friend， a relation of yours， that I might keep you from doing yourself harm like this.”

“Ah! it is really not worth your while to alarm yourself，”she replied in a somewhat bitter tone; “see how much notice the others take of me! They know too well that there is nothing to be done.”

Thereupon she got up， and， taking the candle， put it on the mantel-piece and looked at herself in the glass.

“How pale I am!”she said， as she fastened her dress and passed her fingers over her loosened hair.“Come， let us go back to supper.Are you coming?”

I sat still and did not move.

She saw how deeply I had been affected by the whole scene， and， coming up to me， held out her hand， saying: “Come now， let us go.”

I took her hand， raised it to my lips， and in spite of myself two tears fell upon it.

“Why， what a child you are!”she said， sitting down by my side again.“You are crying! What is the matter?”

“I must seem very silly to you， but I am frightfully troubled by what I have just seen.”

“You are very good! What would you have of me? I can not sleep.I must amuse myself a little.And then， girls like me， what does it matter， one more or less? The doctors tell me that the blood I spit up comes from my throat; I pretend to believe them; it is all I can do for them.”

“Listen， Marguerite，”I said， unable to contain myself any longer; “I do not know what influence you are going to have over my life， but at this present moment there is no one， not even my sister， in whom I feel the interest which I feel in you.It has been just the same ever since I saw you.Well， for Heaven's sake， take care of yourself， and do not live as you are living now.”

“If I took care of myself I should die.All that supports me is the feverish life I lead.Then， as for taking care of oneself， that is all very well for women with families and friends; as for us， from the moment we can no longer serve the vanity or the pleasure of our lovers， they leave us， and long nights follow long days.I know it.I was in bed for two months， and after three weeks no one came to see me.”

“It is true I am nothing to you，”I went on， “but if you will let me， I will look after you like a brother， I will never leave your side， and I will cure you.Then， when you are strong again， you can go back to the life you are leading， if you choose; but I am sure you will come to prefer a quiet life， which will make you happier and keep your beauty unspoiled.”

“You think like that to-night because the wine has made you sad， but you would never have the patience that you pretend to.”

“Permit me to say， Marguerite， that you were ill for two months， and that for two months I came to ask after you every day.”

“It is true， but why did you not come up?”

“Because I did not know you then.”

“Need you have been so particular with a girl like me?”

“One must always be particular with a woman; it is what I feel， at least.”

“So you would look after me?”

“Yes.”

“You would stay by me all day?”

“Yes.”

“And even all night?”

“As long as I did not weary you.”

“And what do you call that?”

“Devotion.”

“And what does this devotion come from?”

“The irresistible sympathy which I have for you.”

“So you are in love with me? Say it straight out， it is much more simple.”

“It is possible; but if I am to say it to you one day， it is not to-day.”

“You will do better never to say it.”

“Why?”

“Because only one of two things can come of it.”

“What?”

“Either I shall not accept: then you will have a grudge against me; or I shall accept: then you will have a sorry mistress; a woman who is nervous， ill， sad， or gay with a gaiety sadder than grief， a woman who spits blood and spends a hundred thousand francs a year.That is all very well for a rich old man like the duke， but it is very bad for a young man like you， and the proof of it is that all the young lovers I have had have very soon left me.”

I did not answer; I listened.This frankness， which was almost a kind of confession， the sad life， of which I caught some glimpse through the golden veil which covered it， and whose reality the poor girl sought to escape in dissipation， drink， and wakefulness， impressed me so deeply that I could not utter a single word.

“Come，”continued Marguerite， “we are talking mere childishness.Give me your arm and let us go back to the dining-room.They won't know what we mean by our absence.”

“Go in， if you like， but allow me to stay here.”

“Why?”

“Because your mirth hurts me.”

“Well， I will be sad.”

“Marguerite， let me say to you something which you have no doubt often heard， so often that the habit of hearing it has made you believe it no longer， but which is none the less real， and which I will never repeat.”

“And that is…?”she said， with the smile of a young mother listening to some foolish notion of her child.

“It is this， that ever since I have seen you， I know not why， you have taken a place in my life; that， if I drive the thought of you out of my mind， it always comes back; that when I met you to-day， after not having seen you for two years， you made a deeper impression on my heart and mind than ever; that， now that you have let me come to see you， now that I know you， now that I know all that is strange in you， you have become a necessity of my life， and you will drive me mad， not only if you will not love me， but if you will not let me love you.”

“But， foolish creature that you are， I shall say to you， like Mme.D.，‘You must be very rich， then!’ Why， you don't know that I spend six or seven thousand francs a month， and that I could not live without it; you don't know， my poor friend， that I should ruin you in no time， and that your family would cast you off if you were to live with a woman like me.Let us be friends， good friends， but no more.Come and see me， we will laugh and talk， but don't exaggerate what I am worth， for I am worth very little.You have a good heart， you want some one to love you， you are too young and too sensitive to live in a world like mine.Take a married woman.You see， I speak to you frankly， like a friend.”

“But what the devil are you doing there?”cried Prudence， who had come in without our bearing her， and who now stood just inside the door， with her hair half coming down and her dress undone.I recognised the hand of Gaston.

“We are talking sense，”said Marguerite; “leave us alone; we will be back soon.”

“Good， good! Talk， my children，”said Prudence， going out and closing the door behind her， as if to further emphasize the tone in which she had said these words.

“Well， it is agreed，”continued Marguerite， when we were alone， “you won't fall in love with me?”

“I will go away.”

“So much as that?”

I had gone too far to draw back; and I was really carried away.This mingling of gaiety， sadness， candour， prostitution， her very malady， which no doubt developed in her a sensitiveness to impressions， as well as an irritability of nerves， all this made it clear to me that if from the very beginning I did not completely dominate her light and forgetful nature， she was lost to me.

“Come， now， do you seriously mean what you say?”she said.

“Seriously.”

“But why didn't you say it to me sooner?”

“When could I have said it?”

“The day after you had been introduced to me at the Opera Comique.”

“I thought you would have received me very badly if I had come to see you.”

“Why?”

“Because I had behaved so stupidly.”

“That's true.And yet you were already in love with me.”

“Yes.”

“And that didn't hinder you from going to bed and sleeping quite comfortably.One knows what that sort of love means.”

“There you are mistaken.Do you know what I did that evening， after the Opera Comique?”

“No.”

“I waited for you at the door of the Cafe Anglais.I followed the carriage in which you and your three friends were， and when I saw you were the only one to get down， and that you went in alone， I was very happy.”

Marguerite began to laugh.

“What are you laughing at?”

“Nothing.”

“Tell me， I beg of you， or I shall think you are still laughing at me.”

“You won't be cross?”

“What right have I to be cross?”

“Well， there was a sufficient reason why I went in alone.”

“What?”

“Some one was waiting for me here.”

If she had thrust a knife into me she would not have hurt me more.I rose， and holding out my hand， “Goodbye，”said I.

“I knew you would be cross，”she said; “men are frantic to know what is certain to give them pain.”

“But I assure you，”I added coldly， as if wishing to prove how completely I was cured of my passion， “I assure you that I am not cross.It was quite natural that some one should be waiting for you， just as it is quite natural that I should go from here at three in the morning.”

“Have you， too， some one waiting for you?”

“No， but I must go.”

“Good-bye， then.”

“You send me away?”

“Not the least in the world.”

“Why are you so unkind to me?”

“How have I been unkind to you?”

“In telling me that some one was waiting for you.”

“I could not help laughing at the idea that you had been so happy to see me come in alone when there was such a good reason for it.”

“One finds pleasure in childish enough things， and it is too bad to destroy such a pleasure when， by simply leaving it alone， one can make somebody so happy.”

“But what do you think I am? I am neither maid nor duchess.I didn't know you till to-day， and I am not responsible to you for my actions.Supposing one day I should become your mistress， you are bound to know that I have had other lovers besides you.If you make scenes of jealousy like this before， what will it be after， if that after should ever exist? I never met any one like you.”

“That is because no one has ever loved you as I love you.”

“Frankly， then， you really love me?”

“As much as it is possible to love， I think.”

“And that has lasted since—?”

“Since the day I saw you go into Susse's， three years ago.”

“Do you know， that is tremendously fine? Well， what am to do in return?”

“Love me a little，”I said， my heart beating so that I could hardly speak; for， in spite of the half-mocking smiles with which she had accompanied the whole conversation， it seemed to me that Marguerite began to share my agitation， and that the hour so long awaited was drawing near.

“Well， but the duke?”

“What duke?”

“My jealous old duke.”

“He will know nothing.”

“And if he should?”

“He would forgive you.”

“Ah， no， he would leave me， and what would become of me?”

“You risk that for some one else.”

“How do you know?”

“By the order you gave not to admit any one to-night.”

“It is true; but that is a serious friend.”

“For whom you care nothing， as you have shut your door against him at such an hour.”

“It is not for you to reproach me， since it was in order to receive you， you and your friend.”

Little by little I had drawn nearer to Marguerite.I had put my arms about her waist， and I felt her supple body weigh lightly on my clasped hands.

“If you knew how much I love you!”I said in a low voice.

“Really true?”

“I swear it.”

“Well， if you will promise to do everything I tell you， without a word， without an opinion， without a question， perhaps I will say yes.”

“I will do everything that you wish!”

“But I forewarn you I must be free to do as I please， without giving you the slightest details what I do.I have long wished for a young lover， who should be young and not self-willed， loving without distrust， loved without claiming the right to it.I have never found one.Men， instead of being satisfied in obtaining for a long time what they scarcely hoped to obtain once， exact from their mistresses a full account of the present， the past， and even the future.As they get accustomed to her， they want to rule her， and the more one gives them the more exacting they become.If I decide now on taking a new lover， he must have three very rare qualities: he must be confiding， submissive， and discreet.”

“Well， I will be all that you wish.”

“We shall see.”

“When shall we see?”

“Later on.”

“Why?”

“Because，”said Marguerite， releasing herself from my arms， and， taking from a great bunch of red camellias a single camellia， she placed it in my buttonhole， “because one can not always carry out agreements the day they are signed.”

“And when shall I see you again?”I said， clasping her in my arms.

“When this camellia changes colour.”

“When will it change colour?”

“To-morrow night between eleven and twelve.Are you satisfied?”

“Need you ask me?”

“Not a word of this either to your friend or to Prudence， or to anybody whatever.”

“I promise.”

“Now， kiss me， and we will go back to the dining-room.”

She held up her lips to me， smoothed her hair again， and we went out of the room， she singing， and I almost beside myself.

In the next room she stopped for a moment and said to me in a low voice:

“It must seem strange to you that I am ready to take you at a moment's notice.Shall I tell you why? It is，”she continued， taking my hand and placing it against her heart so that I could feel how rapidly and violently it palpitated; “it is because I shall not live as long as others， and I have promised myself to live more quickly.”

“Don't speak to me like that， I entreat you.”

“Oh， make yourself easy，”she continued， laughing; “however short a time I have to live， I shall live longer than you will love me!”

And she went singing into the dining-room.

“Where is Nanine?”she said， seeing Gaston and Prudence alone.

“She is asleep in your room， waiting till you are ready to go to bed，”replied Prudence.

“Poor thing， I am killing her! And now gentlemen， it is time to go.”

Ten minutes after， Gaston and I left the house.Marguerite shook hands with me and said good-bye.Prudence remained behind.

“Well，”said Gaston， when we were in the street， “what do you think of Marguerite?”

“She is an angel， and I am madly in love with her.”

“So I guessed; did you tell her so?”

“Yes.”

“And did she promise to believe you?”

“No.”

“She is not like Prudence.”

“Did she promise to?”

“Better still， my dear fellow.You wouldn't think it; but she is still not half bad， poor old Duvernoy!”

Chapter 11

At this point Armand stopped.

“Would you close the window for me?”he said.“I am beginning to feel cold.Meanwhile， I will get into bed.”

I closed the window.Armand， who was still very weak， took off his dressing-gown and lay down in bed， resting his head for a few moments on the pillow， like a man who is tired by much talking or disturbed by painful memories.

“Perhaps you have been talking too much，”I said to him.“Would you rather for me to go and leave you to sleep? You can tell me the rest of the story another day.”

“Are you tired of listening to it?”

“Quite the contrary.”

“Then I will go on.If you left me alone， I should not sleep.”

When I returned home （he continued， without needing to pause and recollect himself， so fresh were all the details in his mind）， I did not go to bed， but began to reflect over the day's adventure.The meeting， the introduction， the promise of Marguerite， had followed one another so rapidly， and so unexpectedly， that there were moments when it seemed to me I had been dreaming.Nevertheless， it was not the first time that a girl like Marguerite had promised herself to a man on the morrow of the day on which he had asked for the promise.

Though， indeed， I made this reflection， the first impression produced on me by my future mistress was so strong that it still persisted.I refused obstinately to see in her a woman like other women， and， with the vanity so common to all men， I was ready to believe that she could not but share the attraction which drew me to her.

Yet， I had before me plenty of instances to the contrary， and I had often heard that the affection of Marguerite was a thing to be had more or less dear， according to the season.

But， on the other hand， how was I to reconcile this reputation with her constant refusal of the young count whom we had found at her house? You may say that he was unattractive to her， and that， as she was splendidly kept by the duke， she would be more likely to choose a man who was attractive to her， if she were to take another lover.If so， why did she not choose Gaston， who was rich， witty， and charming， and why did she care for me， whom she had thought so ridiculous the first time she had seen me?

It is true that there are events of a moment which tell more than the courtship of a year.Of those who were at the supper， I was the only one who had been concerned at her leaving the table.I had followed her， I had been so affected as to be unable to hide it from her， I had wept as I kissed her hand.This circumstance， added to my daily visits during the two months of her illness， might have shown her that I was somewhat different from the other men she knew， and perhaps she had said to herself that for a love which could thus manifest itself she might well do what she had done so often that it had no more consequence for her.

All these suppositions， as you may see， were improbable enough; but whatever might have been the reason of her consent， one thing was certain， she had consented.

Now， I was in love with Marguerite.I had nothing more to ask of her.Nevertheless， though she was only a kept woman， I had so anticipated for myself， perhaps to poetize it a little， a hopeless love， that the nearer the moment approached when I should have nothing more to hope， the more I doubted.I did not close my eyes all night.

I scarcely knew myself.I was half demented.Now， I seemed to myself not handsome or rich or elegant enough to possess such a woman， now I was filled with vanity at the thought of it; then I began to fear lest Marguerite had no more than a few days' caprice for me， and I said to myself that since we should soon have to part， it would be better not to keep her appointment， but to write and tell her my fears and leave her.From that I went on to unlimited hope， unbounded confidence.I dreamed incredible dreams of the future; I said to myself that she should owe to me her moral and physical recovery， that I should spend my whole life with her， and that her love should make me happier than all the maidenly loves in the world.

But I can not repeat to you the thousand thoughts that rose from my heart to my head， and that only faded away with the sleep that came to me at daybreak.

When I awoke it was two o'clock.The weather was superb.I don't think life ever seemed to me so beautiful and so full of possibilities.The memories of the night before came to me without shadow or hindrance， escorted gaily by the hopes of the night to come.From time to time my heart leaped with love and joy in my breast.A sweet fever thrilled me.I thought no more of the reasons which had filled my mind before I slept.I saw only the result， I thought only of the hour when I was to see Marguerite again.

It was impossible to stay indoors.My room seemed too small to contain my happiness.I needed the whole of nature to unbosom myself.

I went out.Passing by the Rue d'Antin， I saw Marguerite's coupe' waiting for her at the door.I went toward the Champs-Elysees.I loved all the people whom I met.Love gives one a kind of goodness.

After I had been walking for an hour from the Marly horses to the Rond-Point， I saw Marguerite's carriage in the distance; I divined rather than recognised it.As it was turning the corner of the Champs-Elysees it stopped， and a tall young man left a group of people with whom he was talking and came up to her.They talked for a few moments; the young man returned to his friends， the horses set out again， and as I came near the group I recognised the one who had spoken to Marguerite as the Comte de G.， whose portrait I had seen and whom Prudence had indicated to me as the man to whom Marguerite owed her position.It was to him that she had closed her doors the night before; I imagined that she had stopped her carriage in order to explain to him why she had done so， and I hoped that at the same time she had found some new pretext for not receiving him on the following night.

How I spent the rest of the day I do not know; I walked， smoked， talked， but what I said， whom I met， I had utterly forgotten by ten o'clock in the evening.

All I remember is that when I returned home， I spent three hours over my toilet， and I looked at my watch and my clock a hundred times， which unfortunately both pointed to the same hour.

When it struck half past ten， I said to myself that it was time to go.

I lived at that time in the Rue de Provence; I followed the Rue du Mont-Blanc， crossed the Boulevard， went up the Rue Louis-le-Grand， the Rue de Port-Mahon， and the Rue d'Antin.I looked up at Marguerite's windows.There was a light.I rang.I asked the porter if Mlle.Gautier was at home.He replied that she never came in before eleven or a quarter past eleven.I looked at my watch.I intended to come quite slowly， and I had come in five minutes from the Rue de Provence to the Rue d'Antin.

I walked to and fro in the street; there are no shops， and at that hour it is quite deserted.In half an hour's time Marguerite arrived.She looked around her as she got down from her coupe， as if she were looking for some one.The carriage drove off; the stables were not at the house.Just as Marguerite was going to ring， I went up to her and said， “Good-evening.”

“Ah， it is you，”she said， in a tone that by no means reassured me as to her pleasure in seeing me.

“Did you not promise me that I might come and see you to-day?”

“Quite right.I had forgotten.”

This word upset all the reflections I had had during the day.Nevertheless， I was beginning to get used to her ways， and I did not leave her， as I should certainly have done once.We entered.Nanine had already opened the door.

“Has Prudence come?”said Marguerite.

“No， madame.”

“Say that she is to be admitted as soon as she comes.But first put out the lamp in the drawing-room， and if any one comes， say that I have not come back and shall not be coming back.”

She was like a woman who is preoccupied with something， and perhaps annoyed by an unwelcome guest.I did not know what to do or say.Marguerite went toward her bedroom; I remained where I was.

“Come，”she said.

She took off her hat and her velvet cloak and threw them on the bed， then let herself drop into a great armchair beside the fire， which she kept till the very beginning of summer， and said to me as she fingered her watch-chain:

“Well， what news have you got for me?”

“None， except that I ought not to have come to-night.”

“Why?”

“Because you seem vexed， and no doubt I am boring you.”

“You are not boring me; only I am not well; I have been suffering all day.I could not sleep， and I have a frightful headache.”

“Shall I go away and let you go to bed?”

“Oh， you can stay.If I want to go to bed I don't mind your being here.”

At that moment there was a ring.

“Who is coming now?”she said， with an impatient movement.

A few minutes after there was another ring.

“Isn't there any one to go to the door? I shall have to go.”She got up and said to me， “Wait here.”

She went through the rooms， and I heard her open the outer door.I listened.

The person whom she had admitted did not come farther than the dining-room.At the first word I recognised the voice of the young Comte de N.

“How are you this evening?”he said.

“Not well，”replied Marguerite drily.

“Am I disturbing you?”

“Perhaps.”

“How you receive me! What have I done， my dear Marguerite?”

“My dear friend， you have done nothing.I am ill; I must go to bed， so you will be good enough to go.It is sickening not to be able to return at night without your making your appearance five minutes afterward.What is it you want? For me to be your mistress? Well， I have already told you a hundred times， No; you simply worry me， and you might as well go somewhere else.I repeat to you to-day， for the last time， I don't want to have anything to do with you; that's settled.Good-bye.Here's Nanine coming in; she can light you to the door.Good-night.”

Without adding another word， or listening to what the young man stammered out， Marguerite returned to the room and slammed the door.Nanine entered a moment after.

“Now understand，”said Marguerite， “you are always to say to that idiot that I am not in， or that I will not see him.I am tired out with seeing people who always want the same thing; who pay me for it， and then think they are quit of me.If those who are going to go in for our hateful business only knew what it really was they would sooner be chambermaids.But no， vanity， the desire of having dresses and carriages and diamonds carries us away; one believes what one hears， for here， as elsewhere， there is such a thing as belief， and one uses up one's heart， one's body， one's beauty， little by little; one is feared like a beast of prey， scorned like a pariah， surrounded by people who always take more than they give; and one fine day one dies like a dog in a ditch， after having ruined others and ruined one's self.”

“Come， come， madame， be calm，”said Nanine; “your nerves are a bit upset to-night.”

“This dress worries me，”continued Marguerite， unhooking her bodice; “give me a dressing-gown.Well， and Prudence?”

“She has not come yet， but I will send her to you， madame， the moment she comes.”

“There's one， now，”Marguerite went on， as she took off her dress and put on a white dressing-gown， “there's one who knows very well how to find me when she is in want of me， and yet she can't do me a service decently.She knows I am waiting for an answer.She knows how anxious I am， and I am sure she is going about on her own account， without giving a thought to me.”

“Perhaps she had to wait.”

“Let us have some punch.”

“It will do you no good， madame，”said Nanine.

“So much the better.Bring some fruit， too， and a pate or a wing of chicken; something or other， at once.I am hungry.”

Need I tell you the impression which this scene made upon me， or can you not imagine it?

“You are going to have supper with me，”she said to me; “meanwhile， take a book.I am going into my dressing-room for a moment.”

She lit the candles of a candelabra， opened a door at the foot of the bed， and disappeared.

I began to think over this poor girl's life， and my love for her was mingled with a great pity.I walked to and fro in the room， thinking over things， when Prudence entered.

“Ah， you here?”she said， “where is Marguerite?”

“In her dressing-room.”

“I will wait.By the way， do you know she thinks you charming?”

“No.”

“She hasn't told you?”

“Not at all.”

“How are you here?”

“I have come to pay her a visit.”

“At midnight?”

“Why not?”

“Farceur!”

“She has received me， as a matter of fact， very badly.”

“She will receive you better by and bye.”

“Do you think so?”

“I have some good news for her.”

“No harm in that.So she has spoken to you about me?”

“Last night， or rather to-night， when you and your friend went.By the way， what is your friend called? Gaston R.， his name is， isn't it?”

“Yes，”said I， not without smiling， as I thought of what Gaston had confided to me， and saw that Prudence scarcely even knew his name.

“He is quite nice， that fellow; what does he do?”

“He has twenty-five thousand francs a year.”

“Ah， indeed! Well， to return to you.Marguerite asked me all about you: who you were， what you did， what mistresses you had had; in short， everything that one could ask about a man of your age.I told her all I knew， and added that you were a charming young man.That's all.”

“Thanks.Now tell me what it was she wanted to say to you last night.”

“Nothing at all.It was only to get rid of the count; but I have really something to see her about to-day， and I am bringing her an answer now.”

At this moment Marguerite reappeared from her dressing-room， wearing a coquettish little nightcap with bunches of yellow ribbons， technically known as “cabbages.”She looked ravishing.She had satin slippers on her bare feet， and was in the act of polishing her nails.

“Well，”she said， seeing Prudence， “have you seen the duke?”

“Yes， indeed.”

“And what did he say to you?”

“He gave me—”

“How much?”

“Six thousand.”

“Have you got it?”

“Yes.”

“Did he seem put out?”

“No.”

“Poor man!”

This “Poor man!”was said in a tone impossible to render.Marguerite took the six notes of a thousand francs.

“It was quite time，”she said.“My dear Prudence， are you in want of any money?”

“You know， my child， it is the 15th in a couple of days， so if you could lend me three or four hundred francs， you would do me a real service.”

“Send over to-morrow; it is too late to get change now.”

“Don't forget.”

“No fear.Will you have supper with us?”

“No， Charles is waiting for me.”

“You are still devoted to him?”

“Crazy， my dear! I will see you to-morrow.Good-bye， Armand.”

Mme.Duvernoy went out.

Marguerite opened the drawer of a side-table and threw the bank-notes into it.

“Will you permit me to get into bed?”she said with a smile， as she moved toward the bed.

“Not only permit， but I beg of you.”

She turned back the covering and got into bed.

“Now，”said she， “come and sit down by me， and let's have a talk.”

Prudence was right: the answer that she had brought to Marguerite had put her into a good humour.

“Will you forgive me for my bad temper tonight?”she said， taking my hand.

“I am ready to forgive you as often as you like.”

“And you love me?”

“Madly.”

“In spite of my bad disposition?”

“In spite of all.”

“You swear it?”

“Yes，”I said in a whisper.

Nanine entered， carrying plates， a cold chicken， a bottle of claret， and some strawberries.

“I haven't had any punch made，”said Nanine; “claret is better for you.Isn't it， sir?”

“Certainly，”I replied， still under the excitement of Marguerite's last words， my eyes fixed ardently upon her.

“Good，”said she; “put it all on the little table， and draw it up to the bed; we will help ourselves.This is the third night you have sat up， and you must be in want of sleep.Go to bed.I don't want anything more.”

“Shall I lock the door?”

“I should think so! And above all， tell them not to admit anybody before midday.”

Chapter 12

At five o'clock in the morning， as the light began to appear through the curtains， Marguerite said to me: “Forgive me if I send you away; but I must.The duke comes every morning; they will tell him， when he comes， that I am asleep， and perhaps he will wait until I wake.”

I took Marguerite's head in my hands; her loosened hair streamed about her; I gave her a last kiss， saying: “When shall I see you again?”

“Listen，”she said; “take the little gilt key on the mantelpiece， open that door; bring me back the key and go.In the course of the day you shall have a letter， and my orders， for you know you are to obey blindly.”

“Yes; but if I should already ask for something?”

“What?”

“Let me have that key.”

“What you ask is a thing I have never done for any one.”

“Well， do it for me， for I swear to you that I don't love you as the others have loved you.”

“Well， keep it; but it only depends on me to make it useless to you， after all.”

“How?”

“There are bolts on the door.”

“Wretch!”

“I will have them taken off.”

“You love， then， a little?”

“I don't know how it is， but it seems to me as if I do! Now， go; I can't keep my eyes open.”

I held her in my arms for a few seconds and then went.

The streets were empty， the great city was still asleep， a sweet freshness circulated in the streets that a few hours later would be filled with the noise of men.It seemed to me as if this sleeping city belonged to me; I searched my memory for the names of those whose happiness I had once envied; and I could not recall one without finding myself the happier.

To be loved by a pure young girl， to be the first to reveal to her the strange mystery of love， is indeed a great happiness， but it is the simplest thing in the world.To take captive a heart which has had no experience of attack， is to enter an unfortified and ungarrisoned city.Education， family feeling， the sense of duty， the family， are strong sentinels， but there are no sentinels so vigilant as not to be deceived by a girl of sixteen to whom nature， by the voice of the man she loves， gives the first counsels of love， all the more ardent because they seem so pure.

The more a girl believes in goodness， the more easily will she give way， if not to her lover， at least to love， for being without mistrust she is without force， and to win her love is a triumph that can be gained by any young man of five-and-twenty.See how young girls are watched and guarded! The walls of convents are not high enough， mothers have no locks strong enough， religion has no duties constant enough， to shut these charming birds in their cages， cages not even strewn with flowers.Then how surely must they desire the world which is hidden from them， how surely must they find it tempting， how surely must they listen to the first voice which comes to tell its secrets through their bars， and bless the hand which is the first to raise a corner of the mysterious veil!

But to be really loved by a courtesan: that is a victory of infinitely greater difficulty.With them the body has worn out the soul， the senses have burned up the heart， dissipation has blunted the feelings.They have long known the words that we say to them， the means we use; they have sold the love that they inspire.They love by profession， and not by instinct.They are guarded better by their calculations than a virgin by her mother and her convent; and they have invented the word caprice for that unbartered love which they allow themselves from time to time， for a rest， for an excuse， for a consolation， like usurers， who cheat a thousand， and think they have bought their own redemption by once lending a sovereign to a poor devil who is dying of hunger without asking for interest or a receipt.

Then， when God allows love to a courtesan， that love， which at first seems like a pardon， becomes for her almost without penitence.When a creature who has all her past to reproach herself with is taken all at once by a profound， sincere， irresistible love， of which she had never felt herself capable; when she has confessed her love， how absolutely the man whom she loves dominates her! How strong he feels with his cruel right to say: You do no more for love than you have done for money.They know not what proof to give.A child， says the fable， having often amused himself by crying “Help! a wolf!”in order to disturb the labourers in the field， was one day devoured by a Wolf， because those whom he had so often deceived no longer believed in his cries for help.It is the same with these unhappy women when they love seriously.They have lied so often that no one will believe them， and in the midst of their remorse they are devoured by their love.

Hence those great devotions， those austere retreats from the world， of which some of them have given an example.

But when the man who inspires this redeeming love is great enough in soul to receive it without remembering the past， when he gives himself up to it， when， in short， he loves as he is loved， this man drains at one draught all earthly emotions， and after such a love his heart will be closed to every other.

I did not make these reflections on the morning when I returned home.They could but have been the presentiment of what was to happen to me， and， despite my love for Marguerite， I did not foresee such consequences.I make these reflections to-day.Now that all is irrevocably ended， they arise naturally out of what has taken place.

But to return to the first day of my liaison.When I reached home I was in a state of mad gaiety.As I thought of how the barriers which my imagination had placed between Marguerite and myself had disappeared， of how she was now mine; of the place I now had in her thoughts， of the key to her room which I had in my pocket， and of my right to use this key， I was satisfied with life， proud of myself， and I loved God because he had let such things be.

One day a young man is passing in the street， he brushes against a woman， looks at her， turns， goes on his way.He does not know the woman， and she has pleasures， griefs， loves， in which he has no part.He does not exist for her， and perhaps， if he spoke to her， she would only laugh at him， as Marguerite had laughed at me.Weeks， months， years pass， and all at once， when they have each followed their fate along a different path， the logic of chance brings them face to face.The woman becomes the man's mistress and loves him.How? why? Their two existences are henceforth one; they have scarcely begun to know one another when it seems as if they had known one another always， and all that had gone before is wiped out from the memory of the two lovers.It is curious， one must admit.

As for me， I no longer remembered how I had lived before that night.My whole being was exalted into joy at the memory of the words we had exchanged during that first night.Either Marguerite was very clever in deception， or she had conceived for me one of those sudden passions which are revealed in the first kiss， and which die， often enough， as suddenly as they were born.

The more I reflected the more I said to myself that Marguerite had no reason for feigning a love which she did not feel， and I said to myself also that women have two ways of loving， one of which may arise from the other: they love with the heart or with the senses.Often a woman takes a lover in obedience to the mere will of the senses， and learns without expecting it the mystery of immaterial love， and lives henceforth only through her heart; often a girl who has sought in marriage only the union of two pure affections receives the sudden revelation of physical love， that energetic conclusion of the purest impressions of the soul.

In the midst of these thoughts I fell asleep; I was awakened by a letter from Marguerite containing these words:

“Here are my orders: To-night at the Vaudeville.

“Come during the third entr'acte.”

I put the letter into a drawer， so that I might always have it at hand in case I doubted its reality， as I did from time to time.

She did not tell me to come to see her during the day， and I dared not go; but I had so great a desire to see her before the evening that I went to the Champs-Elysees， where I again saw her pass and repass， as I had on the previous day.

At seven o'clock I was at the Vaudeville.Never had I gone to a theatre so early.The boxes filled one after another.Only one remained empty， the stage box.At the beginning of the third act I heard the door of the box， on which my eyes had been almost constantly fixed， open， and Marguerite appeared.She came to the front at once， looked around the stalls， saw me， and thanked me with a look.

That night she was marvellously beautiful.Was I the cause of this coquetry? Did she love me enough to believe that the more beautiful she looked the happier I should be? I did not know， but if that had been her intention she certainly succeeded， for when she appeared all heads turned， and the actor who was then on the stage looked to see who had produced such an effect on the audience by her mere presence there.

And I had the key of this woman's room， and in three or four hours she would again be mine!

People blame those who let themselves be ruined by actresses and kept women; what astonishes me is that twenty times greater follies are not committed for them.One must have lived that life， as I have， to know how much the little vanities which they afford their lovers every day help to fasten deeper into the heart， since we have no other word for it， the love which he has for them.

Prudence next took her place in the box， and a man， whom I recognised as the Comte de G.， seated himself at the back.As I saw him， a cold shiver went through my heart.

Doubtless Marguerite perceived the impression made on me by the presence of this man， for she smiled to me again， and， turning her back to the count， appeared to be very attentive to the play.At the third entr'acte she turned and said two words， the count left the box， and Marguerite beckoned to me to come to her.

“Good-evening，”she said as I entered， holding out her hand.

“Good-evening，”I replied to both Marguerite and Prudence.

“Sit down.”

“But I am taking some one's place.Isn't the Comte de G.coming back?”

“Yes; I sent him to fetch some sweets， so that we could talk by ourselves for a moment.Mme.Duvernoy is in the secret.”

“Yes， my children，”said she; “have no fear.I shall say nothing.”

“What is the matter with you to-night?”said Marguerite， rising and coming to the back of the box and kissing me on the forehead.

“I am not very well.”

“You should go to bed，”she replied， with that ironical air which went so well with her delicate and witty face.

“Where?”

“At home.”

“You know that I shouldn't be able to sleep there.”

“Well， then， it won't do for you to come and be pettish here because you have seen a man in my box.”

“It is not for that reason.”

“Yes， it is.I know; and you are wrong， so let us say no more about it.You will go back with Prudence after the theatre， and you will stay there till I call.Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

How could I disobey?

“You still love me?”

“Can you ask?”

“You have thought of me?”

“All day long.”

“Do you know that I am really afraid that I shall get very fond of you? Ask Prudence.”

“Ah，”said she， “it is amazing!”

“Now， you must go back to your seat.The count will be coming back， and there is nothing to be gained by his finding you here.”

“Because you don't like seeing him.”

“No; only if you had told me that you wanted to come to the Vaudeville to-night I could have got this box for you as well as he.”

“Unfortunately， he got it for me without my asking him， and he asked me to go with him; you know well enough that I couldn't refuse.All I could do was to write and tell you where I was going， so that you could see me， and because I wanted to see you myself; but since this is the way you thank me， I shall profit by the lesson.”

“I was wrong; forgive me.”

“Well and good; and now go back nicely to your place， and， above all， no more jealousy.”

She kissed me again， and I left the box.In the passage I met the count coming back.I returned to my seat.

After all， the presence of M.de G.in Marguerite's box was the most natural thing in the world.He had been her lover， he sent her a box， he accompanied her to the theatre; it was all quite natural， and if I was to have a mistress like Marguerite I should have to get used to her ways.

Nonetheless， I was very unhappy all the rest of the evening， and went away very sadly after having seen Prudence， the count， and Marguerite get into the carriage， which was waiting for them at the door.

However， a quarter of an hour later I was at Prudence's.She had only just got in.

Chapter 13

“You have come almost as quickly as we，”said Prudence.

“Yes，”I answered mechanically.“Where is Marguerite?”

“At home.”

“Alone?”

“With M.de G.”

I walked to and fro in the room.

“Well， what is the matter?”

“Do you think it amuses me to wait here till M.de G.leaves Marguerite's?”

“How unreasonable you are! Don't you see that Marguerite can't turn the count out of doors? M.de G.has been with her for a long time; he has always given her a lot of money; he still does.Marguerite spends more than a hundred thousand francs a year; she has heaps of debts.The duke gives her all that she asks for， but she does not always venture to ask him for all that she is in want of.It would never do for her to quarrel with the count， who is worth to her at least ten thousand francs a year.Marguerite is very fond of you， my dear fellow， but your liaison with her， in her interests and in yours， ought not to be serious.You with your seven or eight thousand francs a year， what could you do toward supplying all the luxuries which a girl like that is in need of? It would not be enough to keep her carriage.Take Marguerite for what she is， for a good， bright， pretty girl; be her lover for a month， two months; give her flowers， sweets， boxes at the theatre; but don't get any other ideas into your head， and don't make absurd scenes of jealousy.You know whom you have to do with; Marguerite isn't a saint.She likes you， you are very fond of her; let the rest alone.You amaze me when I see you so touchy; you have the most charming mistress in Paris.She receives you in the greatest style， she is covered with diamonds， she needn't cost you a penny， unless you like， and you are not satisfied.My dear fellow， you ask too much!”

“You are right， but I can't help it; the idea that that man is her lover hurts me horribly.”

“In the first place，”replied Prudence; “is he still her lover? He is a man who is useful to her， nothing more.She has closed her doors to him for two days; he came this morning—she could not but accept the box and let him accompany her.He saw her home; he has gone in for a moment， he is not staying， because you are waiting here.All that， it seems to me， is quite natural.Besides， you don't mind the duke.”

“Yes; but he is an old man， and I am sure that Marguerite is not his mistress.Then， it is all very well to accept one liaison， but not two.Such easiness in the matter is very like calculation， and puts the man who consents to it， even out of love， very much in the category of those who， in a lower stage of society， make a trade of their connivance， and a profit of their trade.”

“Ah， my dear fellow， how old-fashioned you are! How many of the richest and most fashionable men of the best families I have seen quite ready to do what I advise you to do， and without an effort， without shame， without remorse.Why， one sees it every day.How do you suppose the kept women in Paris could live in the style they do， if they had not three or four lovers at once? No single fortune， however large， could suffice for the expenses of a woman like Marguerite.A fortune of five hundred thousand francs a year is， in France， an enormous fortune; well， my dear friend， five hundred thousand francs a year would still be too little， and for this reason: a man with such an income has a large house， horses， servants， carriages; he shoots， has friends， often he is married， he has children， he races， gambles， travels， and what not.All these habits are so much a part of his position that he can not forego them without appearing to have lost all his money， and without causing scandal.Taking it all round， with five hundred thousand francs a year he can not give a woman more than forty or fifty thousand francs in the year， and that is already a good deal.Well， other lovers make up for the rest of her expenses.With Marguerite， it is still more convenient; she has chanced by a miracle on an old man worth ten millions， whose wife and daughter are dead; who has only some nephews， themselves rich， and who gives her all she wants without asking anything in return.But she can not ask him for more than seventy thousand francs a year; and I am sure that if she did ask for more， despite his wealth and the affection he has for her he would not give it to her.

“All the young men of twenty or thirty thousand francs a year at Paris， that is to say， men who have only just enough to live on in the society in which they mix， know perfectly well， when they are the lovers of a woman like Marguerite， that she could not so much as pay for the rooms she lives in and the servants who wait upon her with what they give her.They do not say to her that they know it; they pretend not to see anything， and when they have had enough of it they go their way.If they have the vanity to wish to pay for everything they get ruined， like the fools they are， and go and get killed in Africa， after leaving a hundred thousand francs of debt in Paris.Do you think a woman is grateful to them for it? Far from it.She declares that she has sacrificed her position for them， and that while she was with them she was losing money.These details seem to you shocking? Well， they are true.You are a very nice fellow; I like you very much.I have lived with these women for twenty years; I know what they are worth， and I don't want to see you take the caprice that a pretty girl has for you too seriously.

“Then， besides that，”continued Prudence; “admit that Marguerite loves you enough to give up the count or the duke， in case one of them were to discover your liaison and to tell her to choose between him and you， the sacrifice that she would make for you would be enormous， you can not deny it.What equal sacrifice could you make for her， on your part， and when you had got tired of her， what could you do to make up for what you had taken from her? Nothing.You would have cut her off from the world in which her fortune and her future were to be found; she would have given you her best years， and she would be forgotten.Either you would be an ordinary man， and， casting her past in her teeth， you would leave her， telling her that you were only doing like her other lovers， and you would abandon her to certain misery; or you would be an honest man， and， feeling bound to keep her by you， you would bring inevitable trouble upon yourself， for a liaison which is excusable in a young man， is no longer excusable in a man of middle age.It becomes an obstacle to every thing; it allows neither family nor ambition， man's second and last loves.Believe me， then， my friend， take things for what they are worth， and do not give a kept woman the right to call herself your creditor， no matter in what.”

It was well argued， with a logic of which I should have thought Prudence incapable.I had nothing to reply， except that she was right; I took her hand and thanked her for her counsels.

“Come， come，”said she， “put these foolish theories to flight， and laugh over them.Life is pleasant， my dear fellow; it all depends on the colour of the glass through which one sees it.Ask your friend Gaston; there's a man who seems to me to understand love as I understand it.All that you need think of， unless you are quite a fool， is that close by there is a beautiful girl who is waiting impatiently for the man who is with her to go， thinking of you， keeping the whole night for you， and who loves you， I am certain.Now， come to the window with me， and let us watch for the count to go; he won't be long in leaving the coast clear.”

Prudence opened the window， and we leaned side by side over the balcony.She watched the few passers， I reflected.All that she had said buzzed in my head， and I could not help feeling that she was right; but the genuine love which I had for Marguerite had some difficulty in accommodating itself to such a belief.I sighed from time to time， at which Prudence turned， and shrugged her shoulders like a physician who has given up his patient.

“How one realizes the shortness of life，”I said to myself， “by the rapidity of sensations! I have only known Marguerite for two days， she has only been my mistress since yesterday， and she has already so completely absorbed my thoughts， my heart， and my life that the visit of the Comte de G.is a misfortune for me.”

At last the count came out， got into his carriage and disappeared.Prudence closed the window.At the same instant Marguerite called to us:

“Come at once，”she said; “they are laying the table， and we'll have supper.”

When I entered， Marguerite ran to me， threw her arms around my neck and kissed me with all her might.

“Are we still sulky?”she said to me.

“No， it is all over，”replied Prudence.“I have given him a talking to， and he has promised to be reasonable.”

“Well and good.”

In spite of myself I glanced at the bed; it was not unmade.As for Marguerite， she was already in her white dressing-gown.We sat down to table.

Charm， sweetness， spontaneity， Marguerite had them all， and I was forced from time to time to admit that I had no right to ask of her anything else; that many people would be very happy to be in my place; and that， like Virgil's shepherd， I had only to enjoy the pleasures that a god， or rather a goddess， set before me.

I tried to put in practice the theories of Prudence， and to be as gay as my two companions; but what was natural in them was on my part an effort， and the nervous laughter， whose source they did not detect， was nearer to tears than to mirth.

At last the supper was over and I was alone with Marguerite.She sat down as usual on the hearthrug before the fire and gazed sadly into the flames.What was she thinking of? I know not.As for me， I looked at her with a mingling of love and terror， as I thought of all that I was ready to suffer for her sake.

“Do you know what I am thinking of?”

“No.”

“Of a plan that has come into my head.”

“And what is this plan?”

“I can't tell you yet， but I can tell you what the result would be.The result would be that in a month I should be free， I should have no more debts， and we could go and spend the summer in the country.”

“And you can't tell me by what means?”

“No， only love me as I love you， and all will succeed.”

“And have you made this plan all by yourself?”

“Yes.”

“And you will carry it out all by yourself?”

“I alone shall have the trouble of it，”said Marguerite， with a smile which I shall never forget， “but we shall both partake its benefits.”

I could not help flushing at the word benefits; I thought of Manon Lescaut squandering with Desgrieux the money of M.de B.

I replied in a hard voice， rising from my seat:

“You must permit me， my dear Marguerite， to share only the benefits of those enterprises which I have conceived and carried out myself.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that I have a strong suspicion that M.de G.is to be your associate in this pretty plan， of which I can accept neither the cost nor the benefits.”

“What a child you are! I thought you loved me.I was mistaken; all right.”

She rose， opened the piano and began to play the “Invitation a la Valse”， as far as the famous passage in the major which always stopped her.Was it through force of habit， or was it to remind me of the day when we first met? All I know is that the melody brought back that recollection， and， coming up to her， I took her head between my hands and kissed her.“You forgive me?”I said.

“You see I do，”she answered; “but observe that we are only at our second day， and already I have had to forgive you something.Is this how you keep your promise of blind obedience?”

“What can I do， Marguerite? I love you too much and I am jealous of the least of your thoughts.What you proposed to me just now made me frantic with delight， but the mystery in its carrying out hurts me dreadfully.”

“Come， let us reason it out，”she said， taking both my hands and looking at me with a charming smile which it was impossible to resist， “You love me， do you not? and you would gladly spend two or three months alone with me in the country? I too should be glad of this solitude a deux， and not only glad of it， but my health requires it.I can not leave Paris for such a length of time without putting my affairs in order， and the affairs of a woman like me are always in great confusion; well， I have found a way to reconcile everything， my money affairs and my love for you; yes， for you， don't laugh; I am silly enough to love you! And here you are taking lordly airs and talking big words.Child， thrice child， only remember that I love you， and don't let anything disturb you.Now， is it agreed?”

“I agree to all you wish， as you know.”

“Then， in less than a month's time we shall be in some village， walking by the river side， and drinking milk.Does it seem strange that Marguerite Gautier should speak to you like that? The fact is， my friend， that when this Paris life， which seems to make me so happy， doesn't burn me， it wearies me， and then I have sudden aspirations toward a calmer existence which might recall my childhood.One has always had a childhood， whatever one becomes.Don't be alarmed; I am not going to tell you that I am the daughter of a colonel on half-pay， and that I was brought up at Saint-Denis.I am a poor country girl， and six years ago I could not write my own name.You are relieved， aren't you? Why is it you are the first whom I have ever asked to share the joy of this desire of mine? I suppose because I feel that you love me for myself and not for yourself， while all the others have only loved me for themselves.

“I have often been in the country， but never as I should like to go there.I count on you for this easy happiness; do not be unkind， let me have it.Say this to yourself: ‘She will never live to be old， and I should some day be sorry for not having done for her the first thing she asked of me， such an easy thing to do!’”

What could I reply to such words， especially with the memory of a first night of love， and in the expectation of a second?

An hour later I held Marguerite in my arms， and， if she had asked me to commit a crime， I would have obeyed her.

At six in the morning I left her， and before leaving her I said: “Till to-night!”She kissed me more warmly than ever， but said nothing.

During the day I received a note containing these words:

“DEAR CHILD: I am not very well， and the doctor has ordered quiet.I shall go to bed early to-night and shall not see you.But， to make up， I shall expect you to-morrow at twelve.I love you.”

My first thought was: She is deceiving me!

A cold sweat broke out on my forehead， for I already loved this woman too much not to be overwhelmed by the suspicion.And yet， I was bound to expect such a thing almost any day with Marguerite， and it had happened to me often enough with my other mistresses， without my taking much notice of it.What was the meaning of the hold which this woman had taken upon my life?

Then it occurred to me， since I had the key， to go and see her as usual.In this way I should soon know the truth， and if I found a man there I would strike him in the face.

Meanwhile I went to the Champs-Elysees.I waited there four hours.She did not appear.At night I went into all the theatres where she was accustomed to go.She was in none of them.

At eleven o'clock I went to the Rue d'Antin.There was no light in Marguerite's windows.All the same， I rang.The porter asked me where I was going.

“To Mlle.Gautier's，”I said.

“She has not come in.”

“I will go up and wait for her.”

“There is no one there.”

Evidently I could get in， since I had the key， but， fearing foolish scandal， I went away.Only I did not return home; I could not leave the street， and I never took my eyes off Marguerite's house.It seemed to me that there was still something to be found out， or at least that my suspicions were about to be confirmed.

About midnight a carriage that I knew well stopped before No.9.The Comte de G.got down and entered the house， after sending away the carriage.For a moment I hoped that the same answer would be given to him as to me， and that I should see him come out; but at four o'clock in the morning I was still awaiting him.

I have suffered deeply during these last three weeks， but that is nothing， I think， in comparison with what I suffered that night.

Chapter 14

When I reached home I began to cry like a child.There is no man to whom a woman has not been unfaithful， once at least， and who will not know what I suffered.

I said to myself， under the weight of these feverish resolutions which one always feels as if one had the force to carry out， that I must break with my amour at once， and I waited impatiently for daylight in order to set out forthwith to rejoin my father and my sister， of whose love at least I was certain， and certain that that love would never be betrayed.

However， I did not wish to go away without letting Marguerite know why I went.Only a man who really cares no more for his mistress leaves her without writing to her.I made and remade twenty letters in my head.I had had to do with a woman like all other women of the kind.I had been poetizing too much.She had treated me like a school-boy， she had used in deceiving me a trick which was insultingly simple.My self-esteem got the upper hand.I must leave this woman without giving her the satisfaction of knowing that she had made me suffer， and this is what I wrote to her in my most elegant handwriting and with tears of rage and sorrow in my eyes:

“MY DEAR MARGUERITE: I hope that your indisposition yesterday was not serious.I came， at eleven at night， to ask after you， and was told that you had not come in.M.de G.was more fortunate， for he presented himself shortly afterward， and at four in the morning he had not left.

“Forgive me for the few tedious hours that I have given you， and be assured that I shall never forget the happy moments which I owe to you.

“I should have called to-day to ask after you， but I intend going back to my father's.

“Good-bye， my dear Marguerite.I am not rich enough to love you as I would nor poor enough to love you as you would.Let us then forget， you a name which must be indifferent enough to you， I a happiness which has become impossible.

“I send back your key， which I have never used， and which might be useful to you， if you are often ill as you were yesterday.”

As you will see， I was unable to end my letter without a touch of impertinent irony， which proved how much in love I still was.

I read and reread this letter ten times over; then the thought of the pain it would give to Marguerite calmed me a little.I tried to persuade myself of the feelings which it professed; and when my servant came to my room at eight o'clock， I gave it to him and told him to take it at once.

“Shall I wait for an answer?”asked Joseph （my servant， like all servants， was called Joseph）.

“If they ask whether there is a reply， you will say that you don't know， and wait.”

I buoyed myself up with the hope that she would reply.Poor， feeble creatures that we are! All the time that my servant was away I was in a state of extreme agitation.At one moment I would recall how Marguerite had given herself to me， and ask myself by what right I wrote her an impertinent letter， when she could reply that it was not M.de G.who supplanted me， but I who had supplanted M.de G.: a mode of reasoning which permits many women to have many lovers.At another moment I would recall her promises， and endeavour to convince myself that my letter was only too gentle， and that there were not expressions forcible enough to punish a woman who laughed at a love like mine.Then I said to myself that I should have done better not to have written to her， but to have gone to see her， and that then I should have had the pleasure of seeing the tears that she would shed.Finally， I asked myself what she would reply to me; already prepared to believe whatever excuse she made.

Joseph returned.

“Well?”I said to him.

“Sir，”said he， “madame was not up， and still asleep， but as soon as she rings the letter will be taken to her， and if there is any reply it will be sent.”

She was asleep!

Twenty times I was on the point of sending to get the letter back， but every time I said to myself: “Perhaps she will have got it already， and it would look as if I have repented of sending it.”

As the hour at which it seemed likely that she would reply came nearer， I regretted more and more that I had written.The clock struck， ten， eleven， twelve.At twelve I was on the point of keeping the appointment as if nothing had happened.In the end I could see no way out of the circle of fire which closed upon me.

Then I began to believe， with the superstition which people have when they are waiting， that if I went out for a little while， I should find an answer when I got back.I went out under the pretext of going to lunch.

Instead of lunching at the Cafe Foy， at the corner of the Boulevard， as I usually did， I preferred to go to the Palais Royal and so pass through the Rue d'Antin.Every time that I saw a woman at a distance， I fancied it was Nanine bringing me an answer.I passed through the Rue d'Antin without even coming across a commissionaire.I went to Very's in the Palais Royal.The waiter gave me something to eat， or rather served up to me whatever he liked， for I ate nothing.In spite of myself， my eyes were constantly fixed on the clock.I returned home， certain that I should find a letter from Marguerite.

The porter had received nothing， but I still hoped in my servant.He had seen no one since I went out.

If Marguerite had been going to answer me she would have answered long before.

Then I began to regret the terms of my letter; I should have said absolutely nothing， and that would undoubtedly have aroused her suspicions， for， finding that I did not keep my appointment， she would have inquired the reason of my absence， and only then I should have given it to her.Thus， she would have had to exculpate herself， and what I wanted was for her to exculpate herself.I already realized that I should have believed whatever reasons she had given me， and anything was better than not to see her again.

At last I began to believe that she would come to see me herself; but hour followed hour， and she did not come.

Decidedly Marguerite was not like other women， for there are few who would have received such a letter as I had just written without answering it at all.

At five， I hastened to the Champs-Elysees.“If I meet her，”I thought， “I will put on an indifferent air， and she will be convinced that I no longer think about her.”

As I turned the corner of the Rue Royale， I saw her pass in her carriage.The meeting was so sudden that I turned pale.I do not know if she saw my emotion; as for me， I was so agitated that I saw nothing but the carriage.

I did not go any farther in the direction of the Champs-Elysees.I looked at the advertisements of the theatres， for I had still a chance of seeing her.There was a first night at the Palais Royal.Marguerite was sure to be there.I was at the theatre by seven.The boxes filled one after another， but Marguerite was not there.I left the Palais Royal and went to all the theatres where she was most often to be seen: to the Vaudeville， the Varietes， the Opera Comique.She was nowhere.

Either my letter had troubled her too much for her to care to go to the theatre， or she feared to come across me， and so wished to avoid an explanation.So my vanity was whispering to me on the boulevards， when I met Gaston， who asked me where I had been.

“At the Palais Royal.”

“And I at the Opera，”said he; “I expected to see you there.”

“Why?”

“Because Marguerite was there.”

“Ah， she was there?”

“Yes.”

“Alone?”

“No; with another woman.”

“That all?”

“The Comte de G.came to her box for an instant; but she went off with the duke.I expected to see you every moment， for there was a stall at my side which remained empty the whole evening， and I was sure you had taken it.”

“But why should I go where Marguerite goes?”

“Because you are her lover， surely!”

“Who told you that?”

“Prudence， whom I met yesterday.I give you my congratulations， my dear fellow; she is a charming mistress， and it isn't everybody who has the chance.Stick to her; she will do you credit.”

These simple reflections of Gaston showed me how absurd had been my susceptibilities.If I had only met him the night before and he had spoken to me like that， I should certainly not have written the foolish letter which I had written.

I was on the point of calling on Prudence， and of sending her to tell Marguerite that I wanted to speak to her; but I feared that she would revenge herself on me by saying that she could not see me， and I returned home， after passing through the Rue d'Antin.Again I asked my porter if there was a letter for me.Nothing! She is waiting to see if I shall take some fresh step， and if I retract my letter of to-day， I said to myself as I went to bed; but， seeing that I do not write， she will write to me to-morrow.

That night， more than ever， I reproached myself for what I had done.I was alone， unable to sleep， devoured by restlessness and jealousy， when by simply letting things take their natural course I should have been with Marguerite， hearing the delicious words which I had heard only twice， and which made my ears burn in my solitude.

The most frightful part of the situation was that my judgment was against me; as a matter of fact， everything went to prove that Marguerite loved me.First， her proposal to spend the summer with me in the country， then the certainty that there was no reason why she should be my mistress， since my income was insufficient for her needs and even for her caprices.There could not then have been on her part anything but the hope of finding in me a sincere affection， able to give her rest from the mercenary loves in whose midst she lived; and on the very second day I had destroyed this hope， and paid by impertinent irony for the love which I had accepted during two nights.What I had done was therefore not merely ridiculous， it was indelicate.I had not even paid the woman， that I might have some right to find fault with her; withdrawing after two days， was I not like a parasite of love， afraid of having to pay the bill of the banquet? What! I had only known Marguerite for thirty-six hours; I had been her lover for only twenty-four; and instead of being too happy that she should grant me all that she did， I wanted to have her all to myself， and to make her sever at one stroke all her past relations which were the revenue of her future.What had I to reproach in her? Nothing.She had written to say she was unwell， when she might have said to me quite crudely， with the hideous frankness of certain women， that she had to see a lover; and， instead of believing her letter， instead of going to any street in Paris except the Rue d'Antin， instead of spending the evening with my friends， and presenting myself next day at the appointed hour， I was acting the Othello， spying upon her， and thinking to punish her by seeing her no more.But， on the contrary， she ought to be enchanted at this separation.She ought to find me supremely foolish， and her silence was not even that of rancour; it was contempt.

I might have made Marguerite a present which would leave no doubt as to my generosity and permit me to feel properly quits of her， as of a kept woman， but I should have felt that I was offending by the least appearance of trafficking， if not the love which she had for me， at all events the love which I had for her， and since this love was so pure that it could admit no division， it could not pay by a present， however generous， the happiness that it had received， however short that happiness had been.

That is what I said to myself all night long， and what I was every moment prepared to go and say to Marguerite.When the day dawned I was still sleepless.I was in a fever.I could think of nothing but Marguerite.

As you can imagine， it was time to take a decided step， and finish either with the woman or with one's scruples， if， that is， she would still be willing to see me.But you know well， one is always slow in taking a decided step; so， unable to remain within doors and not daring to call on Marguerite， I made one attempt in her direction， an attempt that I could always look upon as a mere chance if it succeeded.

It was nine o'clock， and I went at once to call upon Prudence， who asked to what she owed this early visit.I dared not tell her frankly what brought me.I replied that I had gone out early in order to reserve a place in the diligence for C.， where my father lived.

“You are fortunate，”she said， “in being able to get away from Paris in this fine weather.”

I looked at Prudence， asking myself whether she was laughing at me， but her face was quite serious.

“Shall you go and say good-bye to Marguerite?”she continued， as seriously as before.

“No.”

“You are quite right.”

“You think so?”

“Naturally.Since you have broken with her， why should you see her again?”

“You know it is broken off?”

“She showed me your letter.”

“What did she say about it?”

“She said: ‘My dear Prudence， your protege is not polite; one thinks such letters， one does not write them.’”

“In what tone did she say that?”

“Laughingly， and she added: ‘He has had supper with me twice， and hasn't even called.’”

That， then， was the effect produced by my letter and my jealousy.I was cruelly humiliated in the vanity of my affection.

“What did she do last night?”

“She went to the opera.”

“I know.And afterward?”

“She had supper at home.”

“Alone?”

“With the Comte de G.， I believe.”

So my breaking with her had not changed one of her habits.It is for such reasons as this that certain people say to you: Don't have anything more to do with the woman; she cares nothing about you.

“Well， I am very glad to find that Marguerite does not put herself out for me，”I said with a forced smile.

“She has very good reason not to.You have done what you were bound to do.You have been more reasonable than she， for she was really in love with you; she did nothing but talk of you.I don't know what she would not have been capable of doing.”

“Why hasn't she answered me， if she was in love with me?”

“Because she realizes she was mistaken in letting herself love you.Women sometimes allow you to be unfaithful to their love; they never allow you to wound their self-esteem; and one always wounds the self-esteem of a woman when， two days after one has become her lover， one leaves her， no matter for what reason.I know Marguerite; she would die sooner than reply.”

“What can I do， then?”

“Nothing.She will forget you， you will forget her， and neither will have any reproach to make against the other.”

“But if I write and ask her forgiveness?”

“Don't do that， for she would forgive you.”

I could have flung my arms round Prudence's neck.

A quarter of an hour later I was once more in my own quarters， and I wrote to Marguerite:

“Some one， who repents of a letter that he wrote yesterday and who will leave Paris to-morrow if you do not forgive him， wishes to know at what hour he might lay his repentance at your feet.

“When can he find you alone? for， you know， confessions must be made without witnesses.”

I folded this kind of madrigal in prose， and sent it by Joseph， who handed it to Marguerite herself; she replied that she would send the answer later.

I only went out to have a hasty dinner， and at eleven in the evening no reply had come.I made up my mind to endure it no longer， and to set out next day.In consequence of this resolution， and convinced that I should not sleep if I went to bed， I began to pack up my things.

Chapter 15

It was hardly an hour after Joseph and I had begun preparing for my departure， when there was a violent ring at the door.

“Shall I go to the door?”said Joseph.

“Go，”I said， asking myself who it could be at such an hour， and not daring to believe that it was Marguerite.

“Sir，”said Joseph coming back to me， “it is two ladies.”

“It is we， Armand，”cried a voice that I recognised as that of Prudence.

I came out of my room.Prudence was standing looking around the place; Marguerite， seated on the sofa， was meditating.I went to her， knelt down， took her two hands， and， deeply moved， said to her， “Pardon.”

She kissed me on the forehead， and said:

“This is the third time that I have forgiven you.”

“I should have gone away to-morrow.”

“How can my visit change your plans? I have not come to hinder you from leaving Paris.I have come because I had no time to answer you during the day， and I did not wish to let you think that I was angry with you.Prudence didn't want me to come; she said that I might be in the way.”

“You in the way， Marguerite! But how?”

“Well， you might have had a woman here，”said Prudence， “and it would hardly have been amusing for her to see two more arrive.”

During this remark Marguerite looked at me attentively.

“My dear Prudence，”I answered， “you do not know what you are saying.”

“What a nice place you've got!”Prudence went on.“May we see the bedroom?”

“Yes.”

Prudence went into the bedroom， not so much to see it as to make up for the foolish thing which she had just said， and to leave Marguerite and me alone.

“Why did you bring Prudence?”I asked her.

“Because she was at the theatre with me， and because when I leave here I want to have some one to see me home.”

“Could not I do?”

“Yes， but， besides not wishing to put you out， I was sure that if you came as far as my door you would want to come up， and as I could not let you， I did not wish to let you go away blaming me for saying ‘No.’”

“And why could you not let me come up?”

“Because I am watched， and the least suspicion might do me the greatest harm.”

“Is that really the only reason?”

“If there were any other， I would tell you; for we are not to have any secrets from one another now.”

“Come， Marguerite， I am not going to take a roundabout way of saying what I really want to say.Honestly， do you care for me a little?”

“A great deal.”

“Then why did you deceive me?”

“My friend， if I were the Duchess So and So， if I had two hundred thousand francs a year， and if I were your mistress and had another lover， you would have the right to ask me; but I am Mlle.Marguerite Gautier， I am forty thousand francs in debt， I have not a penny of my own， and I spend a hundred thousand francs a year.Your question becomes unnecessary and my answer useless.”

“You are right，”I said， letting my head sink on her knees; “but I love you madly.”

“Well， my friend， you must either love me a little less or understand me a little better.Your letter gave me a great deal of pain.If I had been free， first of all I would not have seen the count the day before yesterday， or， if I had， I should have come and asked your forgiveness as you ask me now， and in future I should have had no other lover but you.I fancied for a moment that I might give myself that happiness for six months; you would not have it; you insisted on knowing the means.Well， good heavens， the means were easy enough to guess! In employing them I was making a greater sacrifice for you than you imagine.I might have said to you， ‘I want twenty thousand francs’; you were in love with me and you would have found them， at the risk of reproaching me for it later on.I preferred to owe you nothing; you did not understand the scruple， for such it was.Those of us who are like me， when we have any heart at all， we give a meaning and a development to words and things unknown to other women; I repeat， then， that on the part of Marguerite Gautier the means which she used to pay her debts without asking you for the money necessary for it， was a scruple by which you ought to profit， without saying anything.If you had only met me to-day， you would be too delighted with what I promised you， and you would not question me as to what I did the day before yesterday.We are sometimes obliged to buy the satisfaction of our souls at the expense of our bodies， and we suffer still more， when， afterward， that satisfaction is denied us.”

I listened， and I gazed at Marguerite with admiration.When I thought that this marvellous creature， whose feet I had once longed to kiss， was willing to let me take my place in her thoughts， my part in her life， and that I was not yet content with what she gave me， I asked if man's desire has indeed limits when， satisfied as promptly as mine had been， it reached after something further.

“Truly，”she continued， “we poor creatures of chance have fantastic desires and inconceivable loves.We give ourselves now for one thing， now for another.There are men who ruin themselves without obtaining the least thing from us; there are others who obtain us for a bouquet of flowers.Our hearts have their caprices; it is their one distraction and their one excuse.I gave myself to you sooner than I ever did to any man， I swear to you; and do you know why? Because when you saw me spitting blood you took my hand; because you wept; because you are the only human being who has ever pitied me.I am going to say a mad thing to you: I once had a little dog who looked at me with a sad look when I coughed; that is the only creature I ever loved.When he died I cried more than when my mother died.It is true that for twelve years of her life she used to beat me.Well， I loved you all at once， as much as my dog.If men knew what they can have for a tear， they would be better loved and we should be less ruinous to them.

“Your letter undeceived me; it showed me that you lacked the intelligence of the heart; it did you more harm with me than anything you could possibly have done.It was jealousy certainly， but ironical and impertinent jealousy.I was already feeling sad when I received your letter.I was looking forward to seeing you at twelve， to having lunch with you， and wiping out， by seeing you， a thought which was with me incessantly， and which， before I knew you， I had no difficulty in tolerating.

“Then，”continued Marguerite， “you were the only person before whom it seemed to me， from the first， that I could think and speak freely.All those who come about women like me have an interest in calculating their slightest words， in thinking of the consequences of their most insignificant actions.Naturally we have no friends.We have selfish lovers who spend their fortunes， riot on us， as they say， but on their own vanity.For these people we have to be merry when they are merry， well when they want to sup， sceptics like themselves.We are not allowed to have hearts， under penalty of being hooted down and of ruining our credit.

“We no longer belong to ourselves.We are no longer beings， but things.We stand first in their self-esteem， last in their esteem.We have women who call themselves our friends， but they are friends like Prudence， women who were once kept and who have still the costly tastes that their age does not allow them to gratify.Then they become our friends， or rather our guests at table.Their friendship is carried to the point of servility， never to that of disinterestedness.Never do they give you advice which is not lucrative.It means little enough to them that we should have ten lovers extra， as long as they get dresses or a bracelet out of them， and that they can drive in our carriage from time to time or come to our box at the theatre.They have our last night's bouquets， and they borrow our shawls.They never render us a service， however slight， without seeing that they are paid twice its value.You yourself saw when Prudence brought me the six thousand francs that I had asked her to get from the duke， how she borrowed five hundred francs， which she will never pay me back， or which she will pay me in hats， which will never be taken out of their boxes.

“We can not， then， have， or rather I can not have more than one possible kind of happiness， and this is， sad as I sometimes am， suffering as I always am， to find a man superior enough not to ask questions about my life， and to be the lover of my impressions rather than of my body.Such a man I found in the duke; but the duke is old， and old age neither protects nor consoles.I thought I could accept the life which he offered me; but what would you have? I was dying of ennui， and if one is bound to be consumed， it is as well to throw oneself into the flames as to be asphyxiated with charcoal.

“Then I met you， young， ardent， happy， and I tried to make you the man I had longed for in my noisy solitude.What I loved in you was not the man who was， but the man who was going to be.You do not accept the position， you reject it as unworthy of you; you are an ordinary lover.Do like the others; pay me， and say no more about it.”

Marguerite， tired out with this long confession， threw herself back on the sofa， and to stifle a slight cough put up her handkerchief to her lips， and from that to her eyes.

“Pardon， pardon，”I murmured.“I understood it all， but I wanted to have it from your own lips， my beloved Marguerite.Forget the rest and remember only one thing: that we belong to one another， that we are young， and that we love.Marguerite， do with me as you will; I am your slave， your dog， but in the name of heaven tear up the letter which I wrote to you and do not make me leave you to-morrow; it would kill me.”

Marguerite drew the letter from her bosom， and handing it to me with a smile of infinite sweetness， said:

“Here it is.I have brought it back.”

I tore the letter into fragments and kissed with tears the hand that gave it to me.

At this moment Prudence reappeared.

“Look here， Prudence; do you know what he wants?”said Marguerite.

“He wants you to forgive him.”

“Precisely.”

“And you do?”

“One has to; but he wants more than that.”

“What， then?”

“He wants to have supper with us.”

“And do you consent?”

“What do you think?”

“I think that you are two children who haven't an atom of sense between you; but I also think that I am very hungry， and that the sooner you consent the sooner we shall have supper.”

“Come，”said Marguerite， “there is room for the three of us in my carriage.”

“By the way，”she added， turning to me， “Nanine will be gone to bed.You must open the door; take my key， and try not to lose it again.”

I embraced Marguerite until she was almost stifled.

Thereupon Joseph entered.

“Sir，”he said， with the air of a man who is very well satisfied with himself， “the luggage is packed.”

“All of it?”

“Yes， sir.”

“Well， then， unpack it again; I am not going.”

Chapter 16

I might have told you of the beginning of this liaison in a few lines， but I wanted you to see every step by which we came， I to agree to whatever Marguerite wished， Marguerite to be unable to live apart from me.

It was the day after the evening when she came to see me that I sent her Manon Lescaut.

From that time， seeing that I could not change my mistress's life， I changed my own.I wished above all not to leave myself time to think over the position I had accepted， for， in spite of myself， it was a great distress to me.Thus my life， generally so calm， assumed all at once an appearance of noise and disorder.Never believe， however disinterested the love of a kept woman may be， that it will cost one nothing.Nothing is so expensive as their caprices， flowers， boxes at the theatre， suppers， days in the country， which one can never refuse to one's mistress.

As I have told you， I had little money.My father was， and still is， receveur general at C.He has a great reputation there for loyalty， thanks to which he was able to find the security which he needed in order to attain this position.

It is worth forty thousand francs a year， and during the ten years that he has had it， he has paid off the security and put aside a dowry for my sister.My father is the most honourable man in the world.When my mother died， she left six thousand francs a year， which he divided between my sister and myself on the very day when he received his appointment; then， when I was twenty-one， he added to this little income an annual allowance of five thousand francs， assuring me that with eight thousand francs a year I might live very happily at Paris， if， in addition to this， I would make a position for myself either in law or medicine.I came to Paris， studied law， was called to the bar， and， like many other young men， put my diploma in my pocket， and let myself drift， as one so easily does in Paris.

My expenses were very moderate; only I used up my year's income in eight months， and spent the four summer months with my father， which practically gave me twelve thousand francs a year， and， in addition， the reputation of a good son.For the rest， not a penny of debt.

This， then， was my position when I made the acquaintance of Marguerite.You can well understand that， in spite of myself， my expenses soon increased.Marguerite's nature was very capricious， and， like so many women， she never regarded as a serious expense those thousand and one distractions which made up her life.So， wishing to spend as much time with me as possible， she would write to me in the morning that she would dine with me， not at home， but at some restaurant in Paris or in the country.I would call for her， and we would dine and go on to the theatre， often having supper as well; and by the end of the evening I had spent four or five louis， which came to two or three thousand francs a month， which reduced my year to three months and a half， and made it necessary for me either to go into debt or to leave Marguerite.I would have consented to anything except the latter.

Forgive me if I give you all these details， but you will see that they were the cause of what was to follow.What I tell you is a true and simple story， and I leave to it all the naivete of its details and all the simplicity of its developments.

I realized then that as nothing in the world would make me forget my mistress， it was needful for me to find some way of meeting the expenses into which she drew me.Then， too， my love for her had so disturbing an influence upon me that every moment I spent away from Marguerite was like a year， and that I felt the need of consuming these moments in the fire of some sort of passion， and of living them so swiftly as not to know that I was living them.

I began by borrowing five or six thousand francs on my little capital， and with this I took to gambling.Since gambling houses were destroyed gambling goes on everywhere.Formerly， when one went to Frascati， one had the chance of making a fortune; one played against money， and if one lost， there was always the consolation of saying that one might have gained; whereas now， except in the clubs， where there is still a certain rigour in regard to payments， one is almost certain， the moment one gains a considerable sum， not to receive it.You will readily understand why.Gambling is only likely to be carried on by young people very much in need of money and not possessing the fortune necessary for supporting the life they lead; they gamble， then， and with this result; or else they gain， and then those who lose serve to pay for their horses and mistresses， which is very disagreeable.Debts are contracted， acquaintances begun about a green table end by quarrels in which life or honour comes to grief; and though one may be an honest man， one finds oneself ruined by very honest men， whose only defect is that they have not two hundred thousand francs a year.

I need not tell you of those who cheat at play， and of how one hears one fine day of their hasty disappearance and tardy condemnation.

I flung myself into this rapid， noisy， and volcanic life， which had formerly terrified me when I thought of it， and which had become for me the necessary complement of my love for Marguerite.What else could I have done?

The nights that I did not spend in the Rue d'Antin， if I had spent them alone in my own room， I could not have slept.Jealousy would have kept me awake， and inflamed my blood and my thoughts; while gambling gave a new turn to the fever which would otherwise have preyed upon my heart， and fixed it upon a passion which laid hold on me in spite of myself， until the hour struck when I might go to my mistress.Then， and by this I knew the violence of my love， I left the table without a moment's hesitation， whether I was winning or losing， pitying those whom I left behind because they would not， like me， find their real happiness in leaving it.For the most of them， gambling was a necessity; for me， it was a remedy.Free of Marguerite， I should have been free of gambling.

Thus， in the midst of all that， I preserved a considerable amount of self-possession; I lost only what I was able to pay， and gained only what I should have been able to lose.

For the rest， chance was on my side.I made no debts， and I spent three times as much money as when I did not gamble.It was impossible to resist an existence which gave me an easy means of satisfying the thousand caprices of Marguerite.As for her， she continued to love me as much， or even more than ever.

As I told you， I began by being allowed to stay only from midnight to six o'clock， then I was asked sometimes to a box in the theatre， then she sometimes came to dine with me.One morning I did not go till eight， and there came a day when I did not go till twelve.

But， sooner than the moral metamorphosis， a physical metamorphosis came about in Marguerite.I had taken her cure in hand， and the poor girl， seeing my aim， obeyed me in order to prove her gratitude.I had succeeded without effort or trouble in almost isolating her from her former habits.My doctor， whom I had made her meet， had told me that only rest and calm could preserve her health， so that in place of supper and sleepless nights， I succeeded in substituting a hygienic regime and regular sleep.In spite of herself， Marguerite got accustomed to this new existence， whose salutary effects she already realized.She began to spend some of her evenings at home， or， if the weather was fine， she wrapped herself in a shawl， put on a veil， and we went on foot， like two children， in the dim alleys of the Champs-Elysees.She would come in tired， take a light supper， and go to bed after a little music or reading， which she had never been used to do.The cough， which every time that I heard it seemed to go through my chest， had almost completely disappeared.

At the end of six weeks the count was entirely given up， and only the duke obliged me to conceal my liaison with Marguerite， and even he was sent away when I was there， under the pretext that she was asleep and had given orders that she was not to be awakened.

The habit or the need of seeing me which Marguerite had now contracted had this good result: that it forced me to leave the gaming-table just at the moment when an adroit gambler would have left it.Settling one thing against another， I found myself in possession of some ten thousand francs， which seemed to me an inexhaustible capital.

The time of the year when I was accustomed to join my father and sister had now arrived， and I did not go; both of them wrote to me frequently， begging me to come.To these letters I replied as best I could， always repeating that I was quite well and that I was not in need of money， two things which， I thought， would console my father for my delay in paying him my annual visit.

Just then， one fine day in summer， Marguerite was awakened by the sunlight pouring into her room， and， jumping out of bed， asked me if I would take her into the country for the whole day.

We sent for Prudence， and all three set off， after Marguerite had given Nanine orders to tell the duke that she had taken advantage of the fine day to go into the country with Mme.Duvernoy.

Besides the presence of Mme.Duvernoy being needful on account of the old duke， Prudence was one of those women who seem made on purpose for days in the country.With her unchanging good-humour and her eternal appetite， she never left a dull moment to those whom she was with， and was perfectly happy in ordering eggs， cherries， milk， stewed rabbit， and all the rest of the traditional lunch in the country.

We had now only to decide where we should go.It was once more Prudence who settled the difficulty.

“Do you want to go to the real country?”she asked.

“Yes.”

“Well， let us go to Bougival， at the Point du Jour， at Widow Arnould's.Armand， order an open carriage.”

An hour and a half later we were at Widow Arnould's.

Perhaps you know the inn， which is a hotel on week days and a tea garden on Sundays.There is a magnificent view from the garden， which is at the height of an ordinary first floor.On the left the Aqueduct of Marly closes in the horizon， on the right one looks across hill after hill; the river， almost without current at that spot， unrolls itself like a large white watered ribbon between the plain of the Gabillons and the island of Croissy， lulled eternally by the trembling of its high poplars and the murmur of its willows.Beyond， distinct in the sunlight， rise little white houses， with red roofs， and manufactories， which， at that distance， put an admirable finish to the landscape.Beyond that， Paris in the mist! As Prudence had told us， it was the real country， and， I must add， it was a real lunch.

It is not only out of gratitude for the happiness I owe it， but Bougival， in spite of its horrible name， is one of the prettiest places that it is possible to imagine.I have travelled a good deal， and seen much grander things， but none more charming than this little village gaily seated at the foot of the hill which protects it.

Mme.Arnould asked us if we would take a boat， and Marguerite and Prudence accepted joyously.

People have always associated the country with love， and they have done well; nothing affords so fine a frame for the woman whom one loves as the blue sky， the odours， the flowers， the breeze， the shining solitude of fields， or woods.However much one loves a woman， whatever confidence one may have in her， whatever certainty her past may offer us as to her future， one is always more or less jealous.If you have been in love， you must have felt the need of isolating from this world the being in whom you would live wholly.It seems as if， however indifferent she may be to her surroundings， the woman whom one loves loses something of her perfume and of her unity at the contact of men and things.As for me， I experienced that more than most.Mine was not an ordinary love; I was as much in love as an ordinary creature could be， but with Marguerite Gautier; that is to say， that at Paris， at every step， I might elbow the man who had already been her lover or who was about to， while in the country， surrounded by people whom we had never seen and who had no concern with us， alone with nature in the spring-time of the year， that annual pardon， and shut off from the noise of the city， I could hide my love， and love without shame or fear.

The courtesan disappeared little by little.I had by me a young and beautiful woman， whom I loved， and who loved me， and who was called Marguerite; the past had no more reality and the future no more clouds.The sun shone upon my mistress as it might have shone upon the purest bride.We walked together in those charming spots which seemed to have been made on purpose to recall the verses of Lamartine or to sing the melodies of Scudo.Marguerite was dressed in white， she leaned on my arm， saying over to me again under the starry sky the words she had said to me the day before， and far off the world went on its way， without darkening with its shadow the radiant picture of our youth and love.

That was the dream that the hot sun brought to me that day through the leaves of the trees， as， lying on the grass of the island on which we had landed， I let my thought wander， free from the human links that had bound it， gathering to itself every hope that came in its way.

Add to this that from the place where I was I could see on the shore a charming little house of two stories， with a semicircular railing; through the railing， in front of the house， a green lawn， smooth as velvet， and behind the house a little wood full of mysterious retreats， where the moss must efface each morning the pathway that had been made the day before.Climbing flowers clung about the doorway of this uninhabited house， mounting as high as the first story.

I looked at the house so long that I began by thinking of it as mine， so perfectly did it embody the dream that I was dreaming; I saw Marguerite and myself there， by day in the little wood that covered the hillside， in the evening seated on the grass， and I asked myself if earthly creatures had ever been so happy as we should be.

“What a pretty house!”Marguerite said to me， as she followed the direction of my gaze and perhaps of my thought.

“Where?”asked Prudence.

“Yonder，”and Marguerite pointed to the house in question.

“Ah， delicious!”replied Prudence.“Do you like it?”

“Very much.”

“Well， tell the duke to take it for you; he would do so， I am sure.I'll see about it if you like.”

Marguerite looked at me， as if to ask me what I thought.My dream vanished at the last words of Prudence， and brought me back to reality so brutally that I was still stunned with the fall.

“Yes， yes， an excellent idea，”I stammered， not knowing what I was saying.

“Well， I will arrange that，”said Marguerite， freeing my hand， and interpreting my words according to her own desire.“Let us go and see if it is to let.”

The house was empty， and to let for two thousand francs.

“Would you be happy here?”she said to me.

“Am I sure of coming here?”

“And for whom else should I bury myself here， if not for you?”

“Well， then， Marguerite， let me take it myself.”

“You are mad; not only is it unnecessary， but it would be dangerous.You know perfectly well that I have no right to accept it save from one man.Let me alone， big baby， and say nothing.”

“That means，”said Prudence， “that when I have two days free I will come and spend them with you.”

We left the house， and started on our return to Paris， talking over the new plan.I held Marguerite in my arms， and as I got down from the carriage， I had already begun to look upon her arrangement with less critical eyes.

Chapter 17

Next day Marguerite sent me away very early， saying that the duke was coming at an early hour， and promising to write to me the moment he went， and to make an appointment for the evening.In the course of the day I received this note:

“I am going to Bougival with the duke; be at Prudence's to-night at eight.”

At the appointed hour Marguerite came to me at Mme.Duvernoy's.“Well， it is all settled，”she said， as she entered.“The house is taken?”asked Prudence.“Yes; he agreed at once.”

I did not know the duke， but I felt ashamed of deceiving him.

“But that is not all，”continued Marguerite.

“What else is there?”

“I have been seeing about a place for Armand to stay.”

“In the same house?”asked Prudence， laughing.

“No， at Point du Jour， where we had dinner， the duke and I.While he was admiring the view， I asked Mme.Arnould （she is called Mme.Arnould， isn't she?） if there were any suitable rooms， and she showed me just the very thing: salon， anteroom， and bed-room， at sixty francs a month; the whole place furnished in a way to divert a hypochondriac.I took it.Was I right?”I flung my arms around her neck and kissed her.

“It will be charming，”she continued.“You have the key of the little door， and I have promised the duke the key of the front door， which he will not take， because he will come during the day when he comes.I think， between ourselves， that he is enchanted with a caprice which will keep me out of Paris for a time， and so silence the objections of his family.However， he has asked me how I， loving Paris as I do， could make up my mind to bury myself in the country.I told him that I was ill， and that I wanted rest.He seemed to have some difficulty in believing me.The poor old man is always on the watch.We must take every precaution， my dear Armand， for he will have me watched while I am there; and it isn't only the question of his taking a house for me， but he has my debts to pay， and unluckily I have plenty.Does all that suit you?”

“Yes，”I answered， trying to quiet the scruples which this way of living awoke in me from time to time.

“We went all over the house， and we shall have everything perfect.The duke is going to look after every single thing.Ah， my dear，”she added， kissing me， “you're in luck; it's a millionaire who makes your bed for you.”

“And when shall you move into the house?”inquired Prudence.

“As soon as possible.”

“Will you take your horses and carriage?”

“I shall take the whole house， and you can look after my place while I am away.”

A week later Marguerite was settled in her country house， and I was installed at Point du Jour.

Then began an existence which I shall have some difficulty in describing to you.At first Marguerite could not break entirely with her former habits， and， as the house was always en fete， all the women whom she knew came to see her.For a whole month there was not a day when Marguerite had not eight or ten people to meals.Prudence， on her side， brought down all the people she knew， and did the honours of the house as if the house belonged to her.

The duke's money paid for all that， as you may imagine; but from time to time Prudence came to me， asking for a note for a thousand francs， professedly on behalf of Marguerite.You know I had won some money at gambling; I therefore immediately handed over to Prudence what she asked for Marguerite， and fearing lest she should require more than I possessed， I borrowed at Paris a sum equal to that which I had already borrowed and paid back.I was then once more in possession of some ten thousand francs， without reckoning my allowance.However， Marguerite's pleasure in seeing her friends was a little moderated when she saw the expense which that pleasure entailed， and especially the necessity she was sometimes in of asking me for money.The duke， who had taken the house in order that Marguerite might rest there， no longer visited it， fearing to find himself in the midst of a large and merry company， by whom he did not wish to be seen.This came about through his having once arrived to dine tete-a-tete with Marguerite， and having fallen upon a party of fifteen， who were still at lunch at an hour when he was prepared to sit down to dinner.He had unsuspectingly opened the dining-room door， and had been greeted by a burst of laughter， and had had to retire precipitately before the impertinent mirth of the women who were assembled there.

Marguerite rose from table， and joined the duke in the next room， where she tried， as far as possible， to induce him to forget the incident， but the old man， wounded in his dignity， bore her a grudge for it， and could not forgive her.He said to her， somewhat cruelly， that he was tired of paying for the follies of a woman who could not even have him treated with respect under his own roof， and he went away in great indignation.

Since that day he had never been heard of.

In vain Marguerite dismissed her guests， changed her way of life; the duke was not to be heard of.I was the gainer in so， far that my mistress now belonged to me more completely， and my dream was at length realized.Marguerite could not be without me.Not caring what the result might be， she publicly proclaimed our liaison， and I had come to live entirely at her house.The servants addressed me officially as their master.

Prudence had strictly sermonized Marguerite in regard to her new manner of life; but she had replied that she loved me， that she could not live without me， and that， happen what might， she would not sacrifice the pleasure of having me constantly with her， adding that those who were not satisfied with this arrangement were free to stay away.So much I had heard one day when Prudence had said to Marguerite that she had something very important to tell her， and I had listened at the door of the room into which they had shut themselves.

Not long after， Prudence returned again.I was at the other end of the garden when she arrived， and she did not see me.I had no doubt， from the way in which Marguerite came to meet her， that another similar conversation was going to take place， and I was anxious to hear what it was about.The two women shut themselves into a boudoir， and I put myself within hearing.

“Well?”said Marguerite.

“Well， I have seen the duke.”

“What did he say?”

“That he would gladly forgive you in regard to the scene which took place， but that he has learned that you are publicly living with M.Armand Duval， and that he will never forgive that.‘Let Marguerite leave the young man，’ he said to me， ‘and， as in the past， I will give her all that she requires; if not， let her ask nothing more from me.’”

“And you replied?”

“That I would report his decision to you， and I promised him that I would bring you into a more reasonable frame of mind.Only think， my dear child， of the position that you are losing， and that Armand can never give you.He loves you with all his soul， but he has no fortune capable of supplying your needs， and he will be bound to leave you one day， when it will be too late and when the duke will refuse to do any more for you.Would you like me to speak to Armand?”

Marguerite seemed to be thinking， for she answered nothing.My heart beat violently while I waited for her reply.

“No，”she answered， “I will not leave Armand， and I will not conceal the fact that I am living with him.It is folly no doubt， but I love him.What would you have me do? And then， now that he has got accustomed to be always with me， he would suffer too cruelly if he had to leave me so much as an hour a day.Besides， I have not such a long time to live that I need make myself miserable in order to please an old man whose very sight makes me feel old.Let him keep his money; I will do without it.”

“But what will you do?”

“I don't in the least know.”

Prudence was no doubt going to make some reply， but I entered suddenly and flung myself at Marguerite's feet， covering her hands with tears in my joy at being thus loved.

“My life is yours， Marguerite; you need this man no longer.Am I not here? Shall I ever leave you， and can I ever repay you for the happiness that you give me? No more barriers， my Marguerite; we love; what matters all the rest?”

“Oh yes， I love you， my Armand，”she murmured， putting her two arms around my neck.“I love you as I never thought I should ever love.We will be happy; we will live quietly， and I will say good-bye forever to the life for which I now blush.You won't ever reproach me for the past? Tell me!”

Tears choked my voice.I could only reply by clasping Marguerite to my heart.

“Well，”said she， turning to Prudence， and speaking in a broken voice， “you can report this scene to the duke， and you can add that we have no longer need of him.”

From that day forth the duke was never referred to.Marguerite was no longer the same woman that I had known.She avoided everything that might recall to me the life which she had been leading when I first met her.Never did wife or sister surround husband or brother with such loving care as she had for me.Her nature was morbidly open to all impressions and accessible to all sentiments.She had broken equally with her friends and with her ways， with her words and with her extravagances.Any one who had seen us leaving the house to go on the river in the charming little boat which I had bought would never have believed that the woman dressed in white， wearing a straw hat， and carrying on her arm a little silk pelisse to protect her against the damp of the river， was that Marguerite Gautier who， only four months ago， had been the talk of the town for the luxury and scandal of her existence.

Alas， we made haste to be happy， as if we knew that we were not to be happy long.

For two months we had not even been to Paris.No one came to see us， except Prudence and Julie Duprat， of whom I have spoken to you， and to whom Marguerite was afterward to give the touching narrative that I have there.

I passed whole days at the feet of my mistress.We opened the windows upon the garden， and， as we watched the summer ripening in its flowers and under the shadow of the trees， we breathed together that true life which neither Marguerite nor I had ever known before.

Her delight in the smallest things was like that of a child.There were days when she ran in the garden， like a child of ten， after a butterfly or a dragon-fly.This courtesan who had cost more money in bouquets than would have kept a whole family in comfort， would sometimes sit on the grass for an hour， examining the simple flower whose name she bore.

It was at this time that she read Manon Lescaut， over and over again.I found her several times making notes in the book， and she always declared that when a woman loves， she can not do as Manon did.

The duke wrote to her two or three times.She recognised the writing and gave me the letters without reading them.Sometimes the terms of these letters brought tears to my eyes.He had imagined that by closing his purse to Marguerite， he would bring her back to him; but when he had perceived the uselessness of these means， he could hold out no longer; he wrote and asked that he might see her again， as before， no matter on what conditions.

I read these urgent and repeated letters， and tore them in pieces， without telling Marguerite what they contained and without advising her to see the old man again， though I was half inclined to， so much did I pity him， but I was afraid lest， if I so advised her she should think that I wished the duke， not merely to come and see her again， but to take over the expenses of the house; I feared， above all， that she might think me capable of shirking the responsibilities of every consequence to which her love for me might lead her.

It thus came about that the duke， receiving no reply， ceased to write， and that Marguerite and I continued to live together without giving a thought to the future.

Chapter 18

It would be difficult to give you all the details of our new life.It was made up of a series of little childish events， charming for us but insignificant to any one else.You know what it is to be in love with a woman， you know how it cuts short the days， and with what loving listlessness one drifts into the morrow.You know that forgetfulness of everything which comes of a violent confident， reciprocated love.Every being who is not the beloved one seems a useless being in creation.One regrets having cast scraps of one's heart to other women， and one can not believe in the possibility of ever pressing another hand than that which one holds between one's hands.The mind admits neither work nor remembrance; nothing， in short， which can distract it from the one thought in which it is ceaselessly absorbed.Every day one discovers in one's mistress a new charm and unknown delights.Existence itself is but the unceasing accomplishment of an unchanging desire; the soul is but the vestal charged to feed the sacred fire of love.

We often went at night-time to sit in the little wood above the house; there we listened to the cheerful harmonies of evening， both of us thinking of the coming hours which should leave us to one another till the dawn of day.At other times we did not get up all day; we did not even let the sunlight enter our room.

The curtains were hermetically closed， and for a moment the external world did not exist for us.Nanine alone had the right to open our door， but only to bring in our meals and even these we took without getting up， interrupting them with laughter and gaiety.To that succeeded a brief sleep， for， disappearing into the depths of our love， we were like two divers who only come to the surface to take breath.

Nevertheless， I surprised moments of sadness， even tears， in Marguerite; I asked her the cause of her trouble， and she answered:

“Our love is not like other loves， my Armand.You love me as if I had never belonged to another， and I tremble lest later on， repenting of your love， and accusing me of my past， you should let me fall back into that life from which you have taken me.I think that now that I have tasted of another life， I should die if I went back to the old one.Tell me that you will never leave me!”

“I swear it!”

At these words she looked at me as if to read in my eyes whether my oath was sincere; then flung herself into my arms， and， hiding her head in my bosom， said to me: “You don't know how much I love you!”

One evening， seated on the balcony outside the window， we looked at the moon which seemed to rise with difficulty out of its bed of clouds， and we listened to the wind violently rustling the trees; we held each other's hands， and for a whole quarter of an hour we had not spoken， when Marguerite said to me:

“Winter is at hand.Would you like for us to go abroad?”

“Where?”

“To Italy.”

“You are tired of here?”

“I am afraid of the winter; I am particularly afraid of your return to Paris.”

“Why?”

“For many reasons.”

And she went on abruptly， without giving me her reasons for fears:

“Will you go abroad? I will sell all that I have; we will go and live there， and there will be nothing left of what I was; no one will know who I am.Will you?”

“By all means， if you like， Marguerite， let us travel，”I said.“But where is the necessity of selling things which you will be glad of when we return? I have not a large enough fortune to accept such a sacrifice; but I have enough for us to be able to travel splendidly for five or six months， if that will amuse you the least in the world.”

“After all， no，”she said， leaving the window and going to sit down on the sofa at the other end of the room.“Why should we spend money abroad? I cost you enough already， here.”

“You reproach me， Marguerite; it isn't generous.”

“Forgive me， my friend，”she said， giving me her hand.“This thunder weather gets on my nerves; I do not say what I intend to say.”

And after embracing me she fell into a long reverie.

Scenes of this kind often took place， and though I could not discover their cause， I could not fail to see in Marguerite signs of disquietude in regard to the future.She could not doubt my love， which increased day by day， and yet I often found her sad， without being able to get any explanation of the reason， except some physical cause.Fearing that so monotonous a life was beginning to weary her， I proposed returning to Paris; but she always refused， assuring me that she could not be so happy anywhere as in the country.

Prudence now came but rarely; but she often wrote letters which I never asked to see， though， every time they came， they seemed to preoccupy Marguerite deeply.I did not know what to think.

One day Marguerite was in her room.I entered.She was writing.“To whom are you writing?”I asked.“To Prudence.Do you want to see what I am writing?”

I had a horror of anything that might look like suspicion， and I answered that I had no desire to know what she was writing; and yet I was certain that letter would have explained to me the cause of her sadness.

Next day the weather was splendid.Marguerite proposed to me to take the boat and go as far as the island of Croissy.She seemed very cheerful; when we got back it was five o'clock.

“Mme.Duvernoy has been here，”said Nanine， as she saw us enter.“She has gone again?”asked Marguerite.

“Yes， madame， in the carriage; she said it was arranged.”

“Quite right，”said Marguerite sharply.“Serve the dinner.”

Two days afterward there came a letter from Prudence， and for a fortnight Marguerite seemed to have got rid of her mysterious gloom， for which she constantly asked my forgiveness， now that it no longer existed.Still， the carriage did not return.

“How is it that Prudence does not send you back your carriage?”I asked one day.

“One of the horses is ill， and there are some repairs to be done.It is better to have that done while we are here， and don't need a carriage， than to wait till we get back to Paris.”

Prudence came two days afterward， and confirmed what Marguerite had said.The two women went for a walk in the garden， and when I joined them they changed the conversation.That night， as she was going， Prudence complained of the cold and asked Marguerite to lend her a shawl.

So a month passed， and all the time Marguerite was more joyous and more affectionate than she ever had been.Nevertheless， the carriage did not return， the shawl had not been sent back， and I began to be anxious in spite of myself， and as I knew in which drawer Marguerite put Prudence's letters， I took advantage of a moment when she was at the other end of the garden， went to the drawer， and tried to open it; in vain， for it was locked.When I opened the drawer in which the trinkets and diamonds were usually kept， these opened without resistance， but the jewel cases had disappeared， along with their contents no doubt.

A sharp fear penetrated my heart.I might indeed ask Marguerite for the truth in regard to these disappearances， but it was certain that she would not confess it.

“My good Marguerite，”I said to her， “I am going to ask your permission to go to Paris.They do not know my address， and I expect there are letters from my father waiting for me.I have no doubt he is concerned; I ought to answer him.”

“Go， my friend，”she said; “but be back early.”I went straight to Prudence.

“Come，”said I， without beating about the bush， “tell me frankly， where are Marguerite's horses?”

“Sold.”

“The shawl?”

“Sold.”

“The diamonds?”

“Pawned.”

“And who has sold and pawned them?”

“Why did you not tell me?”

“Because Marguerite made me promise not to.”

“And why did you not ask me for money?”

“Because she wouldn't let me.”

“And where has this money gone?”

“In payments.”

“Is she much in debt?”

“Thirty thousand francs， or thereabouts.Ah， my dear fellow， didn't I tell you? You wouldn't believe me; now you are convinced.The upholsterer whom the duke had agreed to settle with was shown out of the house when he presented himself， and the duke wrote next day to say that he would answer for nothing in regard to Mlle.Gautier.This man wanted his money; he was given part payment out of the few thousand francs that I got from you; then some kind souls warned him that his debtor had been abandoned by the duke and was living with a penniless young man; the other creditors were told the same; they asked for their money， and seized some of the goods.Marguerite wanted to sell everything， but it was too late， and besides I should have opposed it.But it was necessary to pay， and in order not to ask you for money， she sold her horses and her shawls， and pawned her jewels.Would you like to see the receipts and the pawn tickets?”

And Prudence opened the drawer and showed me the papers.

“Ah， you think，”she continued， with the insistence of a woman who can say， I was right after all， “ah， you think it is enough to be in love， and to go into the country and lead a dreamy， pastoral life.No， my friend， no.By the side of that ideal life， there is a material life， and the purest resolutions are held to earth by threads which seem slight enough， but which are of iron， not easily to be broken.If Marguerite has not been unfaithful to you twenty times， it is because she has an exceptional nature.It is not my fault for not advising her to， for I couldn't bear to see the poor girl stripping herself of everything.She wouldn't; she replied that she loved you， and she wouldn't be unfaithful to you for anything in the world.All that is very pretty， very poetical， but one can't pay one's creditors in that coin， and now she can't free herself from debt， unless she can raise thirty thousand francs.”

“All right， I will provide that amount.”

“You will borrow it?”

“Good heavens! Why， yes!”

“A fine thing that will be to do; you will fall out with your father， cripple your resources， and one doesn't find thirty thousand francs from one day to another.Believe me， my dear Armand， I know women better than you do; do not commit this folly; you will be sorry for it one day.Be reasonable.I don't advise you to leave Marguerite， but live with her as you did at the beginning.Let her find the means to get out of this difficulty.The duke will come back in a little while.The Comte de N.， if she would take him， he told me yesterday even， would pay all her debts， and give her four or five thousand francs a month.He has two hundred thousand a year.It would be a position for her， while you will certainly be obliged to leave her.Don't wait till you are ruined， especially as the Comte de N.is a fool， and nothing would prevent your still being Marguerite's lover.She would cry a little at the beginning， but she would come to accustom herself to it， and you would thank me one day for what you had done.Imagine that Marguerite is married， and deceive the husband; that is all.I have already told you all this once， only at that time it was merely advice， and now it is almost a necessity.”

What Prudence said was cruelly true.

“This is how it is，”she went on， putting away the papers she had just shown me; “women like Marguerite always foresee that some one will love them， never that they will love; otherwise they would put aside money， and at thirty they could afford the luxury of having a lover for nothing.If I had only known once what I know now! In short， say nothing to Marguerite， and bring her back to Paris.You have lived with her alone for four or five months; that is quite enough.Shut your eyes now; that is all that any one asks of you.At the end of a fortnight she will take the Comte de N.， and she will save up during the winter， and next summer you will begin over again.That is how things are done， my dear fellow!”

And Prudence appeared to be enchanted with her advice， which I refused indignantly.

Not only my love and my dignity would not let me act thus， but I was certain that， feeling as she did now， Marguerite would die rather than accept another lover.

“Enough joking，”I said to Prudence; “tell me exactly how much Marguerite is in need of.”

“I have told you: thirty thousand francs.”

“And when does she require this sum?”

“Before the end of two months.”

“She shall have it.”

Prudence shrugged her shoulders.

“I will give it to you，”I continued， “but you must swear to me that you will not tell Marguerite that I have given it to you.”

“Don't be afraid.”

“And if she sends you anything else to sell or pawn， let me know.”

“There is no danger.She has nothing left.”

I went straight to my own house to see if there were any letters from my father.There were four.

Chapter 19

In his first three letters my father inquired the cause of my silence; in the last he allowed me to see that he had heard of my change of life， and informed me that he was about to come and see me.

I have always had a great respect and a sincere affection for my father.I replied that I had been travelling for a short time， and begged him to let me know beforehand what day he would arrive， so that I could be there to meet him.

I gave my servant my address in the country， telling him to bring me the first letter that came with the postmark of C.， then I returned to Bougival.

Marguerite was waiting for me at the garden gate.She looked at me anxiously.Throwing her arms round my neck， she said to me: “Have you seen Prudence?”

“No.”

“You were a long time in Paris.”

“I found letters from my father to which I had to reply.”

A few minutes afterward Nanine entered， all out of breath.Marguerite rose and talked with her in whispers.When Nanine had gone out Marguerite sat down by me again and said， taking my hand:

“Why did you deceive me? You went to see Prudence.”

“Who told you?”

“Nanine.”

“And how did she know?”

“She followed you.”

“You told her to follow me?”

“Yes.I thought that you must have had a very strong motive for going to Paris， after not leaving me for four months.I was afraid that something might happen to you， or that you were perhaps going to see another woman.”

“Child!”

“Now I am relieved.I know what you have done， but I don't yet know what you have been told.”

I showed Marguerite my father's letters.

“That is not what I am asking you about.What I want to know is why you went to see Prudence.”

“To see her.”

“That's a lie， my friend.”

“Well， I went to ask her if the horse was any better， and if she wanted your shawl and your jewels any longer.”

Marguerite blushed， but did not answer.

“And，”I continued， “I learned what you had done with your horses， shawls， and jewels.”

“And you are vexed?”

“I am vexed that it never occurred to you to ask me for what you were in want of.”

“In a liaison like ours， if the woman has any sense of dignity at all， she ought to make every possible sacrifice rather than ask her lover for money and so give a venal character to her love.You love me， I am sure， but you do not know on how slight a thread depends the love one has for a woman like me.Who knows? Perhaps some day when you were bored or worried you would fancy you saw a carefully concerted plan in our liaison.Prudence is a chatterbox.What need had I of the horses? It was an economy to sell them.I don't use them and I don't spend anything on their keep; if you love me， I ask nothing more， and you will love me just as much without horses， or shawls， or diamonds.”

All that was said so naturally that the tears came to my eyes as I listened.

“But， my good Marguerite，”I replied， pressing her hands lovingly， “you knew that one day I should discover the sacrifice you had made， and that the moment I discovered it I should allow it no longer.”

“But why?”

“Because， my dear child， I can not allow your affection for me to deprive you of even a trinket.I too should not like you to be able， in a moment when you were bored or worried， to think that if you were living with somebody else those moments would not exist; and to repent， if only for a minute， of living with me.In a few days your horses， your diamonds， and your shawls shall be returned to you.They are as necessary to you as air is to life， and it may be absurd， but I like you better showy than simple.”

“Then you no longer love me.”

“Foolish creature!”

“If you loved me， you would let me love you my own way; on the contrary， you persist in only seeing in me a woman to whom luxury is indispensable， and whom you think you are always obliged to pay.You are ashamed to accept the proof of my love.In spite of yourself， you think of leaving me some day， and you want to put your disinterestedness beyond risk of suspicion.You are right， my friend， but I had better hopes.”

And Marguerite made a motion to rise; I held her， and said to her:

“I want you to be happy and to have nothing to reproach me for， that is all.”

“And we are going to be separated!”

“Why， Marguerite， who can separate us?”I cried.

“You， who will not let me take you on your own level， but insist on taking me on mine; you， who wish me to keep the luxury in the midst of which I have lived， and so keep the moral distance which separates us; you， who do not believe that my affection is sufficiently disinterested to share with me what you have， though we could live happily enough on it together， and would rather ruin yourself， because you are still bound by a foolish prejudice.Do you really think that I could compare a carriage and diamonds with your love? Do you think that my real happiness lies in the trifles that mean so much when one has nothing to love， but which become trifling indeed when one has? You will pay my debts， realize your estate， and then keep me? How long will that last? Two or three months， and then it will be too late to live the life I propose， for then you will have to take everything from me， and that is what a man of honour can not do; while now you have eight or ten thousand francs a year， on which we should be able to live.I will sell the rest of what I do not want， and with this alone I will make two thousand francs a year.We will take a nice little flat in which we can both live.In the summer we will go into the country， not to a house like this， but to a house just big enough for two people.You are independent， I am free， we are young; in heaven's name， Armand， do not drive me back into the life I had to lead once!”

I could not answer.Tears of gratitude and love filled my eyes， and I flung myself into Marguerite's arms.

“I wanted，”she continued， “to arrange everything without telling you， pay all my debts， and take a new flat.In October we should have been back in Paris， and all would have come out; but since Prudence has told you all， you will have to agree beforehand， instead of agreeing afterward.Do you love me enough for that?”

It was impossible to resist such devotion.I kissed her hands ardently， and said:

“I will do whatever you wish.”

It was agreed that we should do as she had planned.Thereupon， she went wild with delight; danced， sang， amused herself with calling up pictures of her new flat in all its simplicity， and began to consult me as to its position and arrangement.I saw how happy and proud she was of this resolution， which seemed as if it would bring us into closer and closer relationship， and I resolved to do my own share.In an instant I decided the whole course of my life.I put my affairs in order， and made over to Marguerite the income which had come to me from my mother， and which seemed little enough in return for the sacrifice which I was accepting.There remained the five thousand francs a year from my father; and， whatever happened， I had always enough to live on.I did not tell Marguerite what I had done， certain as I was that she would refuse the gift.This income came from a mortgage of sixty thousand francs on a house that I had never even seen.All that I knew was that every three months my father's solicitor， an old friend of the family， handed over to me seven hundred and fifty francs in return for my receipt.

The day when Marguerite and I came to Paris to look for a flat， I went to this solicitor and asked him what had to be done in order to make over this income to another person.The good man imagined I was ruined， and questioned me as to the cause of my decision.As I knew that I should be obliged， sooner or later， to say in whose favour I made this transfer， I thought it best to tell him the truth at once.He made none of the objections that his position as friend and solicitor authorized him to make， and assured me that he would arrange the whole affair in the best way possible.Naturally， I begged him to employ the greatest discretion in regard to my father， and on leaving him I rejoined Marguerite， who was waiting for me at Julie Duprat's， where she had gone in preference to going to listen to the moralizings of Prudence.

We began to look out for flats.All those that we saw seemed to Marguerite too dear， and to me too simple.However， we finally found， in one of the quietest parts of Paris， a little house， isolated from the main part of the building.Behind this little house was a charming garden， surrounded by walls high enough to screen us from our neighbours， and low enough not to shut off our own view.It was better than our expectations.

While I went to give notice at my own flat， Marguerite went to see a business agent， who， she told me， had already done for one of her friends exactly what she wanted him to do for her.She came on to the Rue de Provence in a state of great delight.The man had promised to pay all her debts， to give her a receipt for the amount， and to hand over to her twenty thousand francs， in return for the whole of her furniture.You have seen by the amount taken at the sale that this honest man would have gained thirty thousand francs out of his client.

We went back joyously to Bougival， talking over our projects for the future， which， thanks to our heedlessness， and especially to our love， we saw in the rosiest light.

A week later， as we were having lunch， Nanine came to tell us that my servant was asking for me.“Let him come in，”I said.

“Sir，”said he， “your father has arrived in Paris， and begs you to return at once to your rooms， where he is waiting for you.”

This piece of news was the most natural thing in the world， yet， as we heard it， Marguerite and I looked at one another.We foresaw trouble.Before she had spoken a word， I replied to her thought， and， taking her hand， I said， “Fear nothing.”

“Come back as soon as possible，”whispered Marguerite， embracing me; “I will wait for you at the window.”

I sent on Joseph to tell my father that I was on my way.Two hours later I was at the Rue de Provence.

Chapter 20

My father was seated in my room in his dressing-gown; he was writing， and I saw at once， by the way in which he raised his eyes to me when I came in， that there was going to be a serious discussion.I went up to him， all the same， as if I had seen nothing in his face， embraced him， and said:

“When did you come， father?”

“Last night.”

“Did you come straight here， as usual?”

“Yes.”

“I am very sorry not to have been here to receive you.”

I expected that the sermon which my father's cold face threatened would begin at once; but he said nothing， sealed the letter which he had just written， and gave it to Joseph to post.

When we were alone， my father rose， and leaning against the mantel-piece， said to me:

“My dear Armand， we have serious matters to discuss.”

“I am listening， father.”

“You promise me to be frank?”

“Am I not accustomed to be so?”

“Is it not true that you are living with a woman called Marguerite Gautier?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know what this woman was?”

“A kept woman.”

“And it is for her that you have forgotten to come and see your sister and me this year?”

“Yes， father， I admit it.”

“You are very much in love with this woman?”

“You see it， father， since she has made me fail in duty toward you， for which I humbly ask your forgiveness to-day.”

My father， no doubt， was not expecting such categorical answers， for he seemed to reflect a moment， and then said to me:

“You have， of course， realized that you can not always live like that?”

“I fear so， father， but I have not realized it.”

“But you must realize，”continued my father， in a dryer tone， “that I， at all events， should not permit it.”

“I have said to myself that as long as I did nothing contrary to the respect which I owe to the traditional probity of the family I could live as I am living， and this has reassured me somewhat in regard to the fears I have had.”

Passions are formidable enemies to sentiment.I was prepared for every struggle， even with my father， in order that I might keep Marguerite.

“Then， the moment is come when you must live otherwise.”

“Why， father?”

“Because you are doing things which outrage the respect that you imagine you have for your family.”

“I don't follow your meaning.”

“I will explain it to you.Have a mistress if you will; pay her as a man of honour is bound to pay the woman whom he keeps， by all means; but that you should come to forget the most sacred things for her， that you should let the report of your scandalous life reach my quiet countryside， and set a blot on the honourable name that I have given you， it can not， it shall not be.”

“Permit me to tell you， father， that those who have given you information about me have been ill-informed.I am the lover of Mlle.Gautier; I live with her; it is the most natural thing in the world.I do not give Mlle.Gautier the name you have given me; I spend on her account what my means allow me to spend; I have no debts; and， in short， I am not in a position which authorizes a father to say to his son what you have just said to me.”

“A father is always authorized to rescue his son out of evil paths.You have not done any harm yet， but you will do it.”

“Father!”

“Sir， I know more of life than you do.There are no entirely pure sentiments except in perfectly chaste women.Every Manon can have her own Des Grieux， and times are changed.It would be useless for the world to grow older if it did not correct its ways.You will leave your mistress.”

“I am very sorry to disobey you， father， but it is impossible.”

“I will compel you to do so.”

“Unfortunately， father， there no longer exists a Sainte Marguerite to which courtesans can be sent， and， even if there were， I would follow Mlle.Gautier if you succeeded in having her sent there.What would you have? Perhaps am in the wrong， but I can only be happy as long as I am the lover of this woman.”

“Come， Armand， open your eyes.Recognise that it is your father who speaks to you， your father who has always loved you， and who only desires your happiness.Is it honourable for you to live like husband and wife with a woman whom everybody has had?”

“What does it matter， father， if no one will any more? What does it matter， if this woman loves me， if her whole life is changed through the love which she has for me and the love which I have for her? What does it matter， if she has become a different woman?”

“Do you think， then， sir， that the mission of a man of honour is to go about converting lost women? Do you think that God has given such a grotesque aim to life， and that the heart should have any room for enthusiasm of that kind? What will be the end of this marvellous cure， and what will you think of what you are saying to-day by the time you are forty? You will laugh at this love of yours， if you can still laugh， and if it has not left too serious a trace in your past.What would you be now if your father had had your ideas and had given up his life to every impulse of this kind， instead of rooting himself firmly in convictions of honour and steadfastness? Think it over， Armand， and do not talk any more such absurdities.Come， leave this woman; your father entreats you.”

I answered nothing.

“Armand，”continued my father， “in the name of your sainted mother， abandon this life， which you will forget more easily than you think.You are tied to it by an impossible theory.You are twenty-four; think of the future.You can not always love this woman， who also can not always love you.You both exaggerate your love.You put an end to your whole career.One step further， and you will no longer be able to leave the path you have chosen， and you will suffer all your life for what you have done in your youth.Leave Paris.Come and stay for a month or two with your sister and me.Rest in our quiet family affection will soon heal you of this fever， for it is nothing else.Meanwhile， your mistress will console herself; she will take another lover; and when you see what it is for which you have all but broken with your father， and all but lost his love， you will tell me that I have done well to come and seek you out， and you will thank me for it.Come， you will go with me， Armand， will you not?”I felt that my father would be right if it had been any other woman， but I was convinced that he was wrong with regard to Marguerite.Nevertheless， the tone in which he said these last words was so kind， so appealing， that I dared not answer.

“Well?”said he in a trembling voice.

“Well， father， I can promise nothing，”I said at last; “what you ask of me is beyond my power.Believe me，”I continued， seeing him make an impatient movement， “you exaggerate the effects of this liaison.Marguerite is a different kind of a woman from what you think.This love， far from leading me astray， is capable， on the contrary， of setting me in the right direction.Love always makes a man better， no matter what woman inspires it.If you knew Marguerite， you would understand that I am in no danger.She is as noble as the noblest of women.There is as much disinterestedness in her as there is cupidity in others.”

“All of which does not prevent her from accepting the whole of your fortune， for the sixty thousand francs which come to you from your mother， and which you are giving her， are， understand me well， your whole fortune.”

My father had probably kept this peroration and this threat for the last stroke.I was firmer before these threats than before his entreaties.

“Who told you that I was handing this sum to her?”I asked.

“My solicitor.Could an honest man carry out such a procedure without warning me? Well， it is to prevent you from ruining yourself for a prostitute that I am now in Paris.Your mother， when she died， left you enough to live on respectably， and not to squander on your mistresses.”

“I swear to you， father， that Marguerite knew nothing of this transfer.”

“Why， then， do you make it?”

“Because Marguerite， the woman you calumniate， and whom you wish me to abandon， is sacrificing all that she possesses in order to live with me.”

“And you accept this sacrifice? What sort of a man are you， sir， to allow Mlle.Gautier to sacrifice anything for you? Come， enough of this.You will leave this woman.Just now I begged you; now I command you.I will have no such scandalous doings in my family.Pack up your things and get ready to come with me.”

“Pardon me， father，”I said， “but I shall not come.”

“And why?”

“Because I am at an age when no one any longer obeys a command.”

My father turned pale at my answer.

“Very well， sir，”he said， “I know what remains to be done.”

He rang and Joseph appeared.

“Have my things taken to the Hotel de Paris，”he said to my servant.And thereupon he went to his room and finished dressing.When he returned， I went up to him.

“Promise me， father，”I said， “that you will do nothing to give Marguerite pain?”

My father stopped， looked at me disdainfully， and contented himself with saying， “I believe you are mad.”After this he went out， shutting the door violently after him.

I went downstairs， took a cab， and returned to Bougival.

Marguerite was waiting for me at the window.

Chapter 21

“At last you have come，”she said， throwing her arms round my neck.“But how pale you are!”

I told her of the scene with my father.

“My God! I was afraid of it，”she said.“When Joseph came to tell you of your father's arrival I trembled as if he had brought news of some misfortune.My poor friend， I am the cause of all your distress.You will be better off， perhaps， if you leave me and do not quarrel with your father on my account.He knows that you are sure to have a mistress， and he ought to be thankful that it is I， since I love you and do not want more of you than your position allows.Did you tell him how we had arranged our future?”

“Yes; that is what annoyed him the most， for he saw how much we really love one another.”

“What are we to do， then?”

“Hold together， my good Marguerite， and let the storm pass over.”

“Will it pass?”

“It will have to.”

“But your father will not stop there.”

“What do you suppose he can do?”

“How do I know? Everything that a father can do to make his son obey him.He will remind you of my past life， and will perhaps do me the honour of inventing some new story， so that you may give me up.”

“You know that I love you.”

“Yes， but what I know， too， is that， sooner or later， you will have to obey your father， and perhaps you will end by believing him.”

“No， Marguerite.It is I who will make him believe me.Some of his friends have been telling him tales which have made him angry; but he is good and just， he will change his first impression; and then， after all， what does it matter to me?”

“Do not say that， Armand.I would rather anything should happen than that you should quarrel with your family; wait till after to-day， and to-morrow go back to Paris.Your father， too， will have thought it over on his side， and perhaps you will both come to a better understanding.Do not go against his principles， pretend to make some concessions to what he wants; seem not to care so very much about me， and he will let things remain as they are.Hope， my friend， and be sure of one thing， that whatever happens， Marguerite will always be yours.”

“You swear it?”

“Do I need to swear it?”

How sweet it is to let oneself be persuaded by the voice that one loves! Marguerite and I spent the whole day in talking over our projects for the future， as if we felt the need of realizing them as quickly as possible.At every moment we awaited some event， but the day passed without bringing us any new tidings.

Next day I left at ten o'clock， and reached the hotel about twelve.My father had gone out.

I went to my own rooms， hoping that he had perhaps gone there.No one had called.I went to the solicitor's.No one was there.I went back to the hotel， and waited till six.M.Duval did not return， and I went back to Bougival.

I found Marguerite not waiting for me， as she had been the day before， but sitting by the fire， which the weather still made necessary.She was so absorbed in her thoughts that I came close to her chair without her hearing me.When I put my lips to her forehead she started as if the kiss had suddenly awakened her.

“You frightened me，”she said.“And your father?”

“I have not seen him.I do not know what it means.He was not at his hotel， nor anywhere where there was a chance of my finding him.”

“Well， you must try again to-morrow.”

“I am very much inclined to wait till he sends for me.I think I have done all that can be expected of me.”

“No， my friend， it is not enough; you must call on your father again， and you must call to-morrow.”

“Why to-morrow rather than any other day?”

“Because，”said Marguerite， and it seemed to me that she blushed slightly at this question， “because it will show that you are the more keen about it， and he will forgive us the sooner.”

For the remainder of the day Marguerite was sad and preoccupied.I had to repeat twice over everything I said to her to obtain an answer.She ascribed this preoccupation to her anxiety in regard to the events which had happened during the last two days.I spent the night in reassuring her， and she sent me away in the morning with an insistent disquietude that I could not explain to myself.

Again my father was absent， but he had left this letter for me:

“If you call again to-day， wait for me till four.If I am not in by four， come and dine with me to-morrow.I must see you.”

I waited till the hour he had named， but he did not appear.I returned to Bougival.

The night before I had found Marguerite sad; that night I found her feverish and agitated.On seeing me， she flung her arms around my neck， but she cried for a long time in my arms.I questioned her as to this sudden distress， which alarmed me by its violence.She gave me no positive reason， but put me off with those evasions which a woman resorts to when she will not tell the truth.

When she was a little calmed down， I told her the result of my visit， and I showed her my father's letter， from which， I said， we might augur well.At the sight of the letter and on hearing my comment， her tears began to flow so copiously that I feared an attack of nerves， and， calling Nanine， I put her to bed， where she wept without a word， but held my hands and kissed them every moment.

I asked Nanine if， during my absence， her mistress had received any letter or visit which could account for the state in which I found her， but Nanine replied that no one had called and nothing had been sent.

Something， however， had occurred since the day before， something which troubled me the more because Marguerite concealed it from me.

In the evening she seemed a little calmer， and， making me sit at the foot of the bed， she told me many times how much she loved me.She smiled at me， but with an effort， for in spite of herself her eyes were veiled with tears.

I used every means to make her confess the real cause of her distress， but she persisted in giving me nothing but vague reasons， as I have told you.At last she fell asleep in my arms， but it was the sleep which tires rather than rests the body.From time to time she uttered a cry， started up， and， after assuring herself that I was beside her， made me swear that I would always love her.

I could make nothing of these intermittent paroxysms of distress， which went on till morning.Then Marguerite fell into a kind of stupor.She had not slept for two nights.

Her rest was of short duration， for toward eleven she awoke， and， seeing that I was up， she looked about her， crying:

“Are you going already?”

“No，”said I， holding her hands; “but I wanted to let you sleep on.It is still early.”

“What time are you going to Paris?”

“At four.”

“So soon? But you will stay with me till then?”

“Of course.Do I not always?”

“I am so glad! Shall we have lunch?”she went on absentmindedly.

“If you like.”

“And then you will be nice to me till the very moment you go?”

“Yes; and I will come back as soon as I can.”

“You will come back?”she said， looking at me with haggard eyes.

“Naturally.”

“Oh， yes， you will come back to-night.I shall wait for you， as I always do， and you will love me， and we shall be happy， as we have been ever since we have known each other.”

All these words were said in such a strained voice， they seemed to hide so persistent and so sorrowful a thought， that I trembled every moment lest Marguerite should become delirious.

“Listen，”I said.“You are ill.I can not leave you like this.I will write and tell my father not to expect me.”

“No， no，”she cried hastily， “don't do that.Your father will accuse me of hindering you again from going to see him when he wants to see you; no， no， you must go， you must! Besides， I am not ill.I am quite well.I had a bad dream and am not yet fully awake.”

From that moment Marguerite tried to seem more cheerful.There were no more tears.

When the hour came for me to go， I embraced her and asked her if she would come with me as far as the train; I hoped that the walk would distract her and that the air would do her good.I wanted especially to be with her as long as possible.

She agreed， put on her cloak and took Nanine with her， so as not to return alone.Twenty times I was on the point of not going.But the hope of a speedy return， and the fear of offending my father still more， sustained me， and I took my place in the train.

“Till this evening!”I said to Marguerite， as I left her.She did not reply.

Once already she had not replied to the same words， and the Comte de G.， you will remember， had spent the night with her; but that time was so far away that it seemed to have been effaced from my memory， and if I had any fear， it was certainly not of Marguerite being unfaithful to me.Reaching Paris， I hastened off to see Prudence， intending to ask her to go and keep Marguerite company， in the hope that her mirth and liveliness would distract her.I entered without being announced， and found Prudence at her toilet.

“Ah!”she said， anxiously; “is Marguerite with you?”

“No.”

“How is she?”

“She is not well.”

“Is she not coming?”

“Did you expect her?”

Madame Duvernoy reddened， and replied， with a certain constraint:

“I only meant that since you are at Paris， is she not coming to join you?”

“No.”

I looked at Prudence; she cast down her eyes， and I read in her face the fear of seeing my visit prolonged.

“I even came to ask you， my dear Prudence， if you have nothing to do this evening， to go and see Marguerite; you will be company for her， and you can stay the night.I never saw her as she was to-day， and I am afraid she is going to be ill.”

“I am dining in town，”replied Prudence， “and I can't go and see Marguerite this evening.I will see her tomorrow.”

I took leave of Mme.Duvernoy， who seemed almost as preoccupied as Marguerite， and went on to my father's; his first glance seemed to study me attentively.He held out his hand.

“Your two visits have given me pleasure， Armand，”he said; “they make me hope that you have thought over things on your side as I have on mine.”

“May I ask you， father， what was the result of your reflection?”

“The result， my dear boy， is that I have exaggerated the importance of the reports that had been made to me， and that I have made up my mind to be less severe with you.”

“What are you saying， father?”I cried joyously.

“I say， my dear child， that every young man must have his mistress， and that， from the fresh information I have had， I would rather see you the lover of Mlle.Gautier than of any one else.”

“My dear father， how happy you make me!”

We talked in this manner for some moments， and then sat down to table.My father was charming all dinner time.

I was in a hurry to get back to Bougival to tell Marguerite about this fortunate change， and I looked at the clock every moment.

“You are watching the time，”said my father， “and you are impatient to leave me.O young people， how you always sacrifice sincere to doubtful affections!”

“Do not say that， father; Marguerite loves me， I am sure of it.”

My father did not answer; he seemed to say neither yes nor no.

He was very insistent that I should spend the whole evening with him and not go till the morning; but Marguerite had not been well when I left her.I told him of it， and begged his permission to go back to her early， promising to come again on the morrow.

The weather was fine; he walked with me as far as the station.Never had I been so happy.The future appeared as I had long desired to see it.I had never loved my father as I loved him at that moment.

Just as I was leaving him， he once more begged me to stay.I refused.

“You are really very much in love with her?”he asked.

“Madly.”

“Go， then，”and he passed his hand across his forehead as if to chase a thought， then opened his mouth as if to say something; but he only pressed my hand， and left me hurriedly， saying:

“Till to-morrow， then!”

Chapter 22

It seemed to me as if the train did not move.I reached Bougival at eleven.

Not a window in the house was lighted up， and when I rang no one answered the bell.It was the first time that such a thing had occurred to me.At last the gardener came.I entered.Nanine met me with a light.I went to Marguerite's room.

“Where is madame?”

“Gone to Paris，”replied Nanine.

“To Paris!”

“Yes， sir.”

“When?”

“An hour after you.”

“She left no word for me?”

“Nothing.”

Nanine left me.

Perhaps she had some suspicion or other， I thought， and went to Paris to make sure that my visit to my father was not an excuse for a day off.Perhaps Prudence wrote to her about something important.I said to myself when I was alone; but I saw Prudence; she said nothing to make me suppose that she had written to Marguerite.

All at once I remembered Mme.Duvernoy's question， “Isn't she coming to-day?”when I had said that Marguerite was ill.I remembered at the same time how embarrassed Prudence had appeared when I looked at her after this remark， which seemed to indicate an appointment.I remembered， too， Marguerite's tears all day long， which my father's kind reception had rather put out of my mind.From this moment all the incidents grouped themselves about my first suspicion， and fixed it so firmly in my mind that everything served to confirm it， even my father's kindness.

Marguerite had almost insisted on my going to Paris; she had pretended to be calmer when I had proposed staying with her.Had I fallen into some trap? Was Marguerite deceiving me? Had she counted on being back in time for me not to perceive her absence， and had she been detained by chance? Why had she said nothing to Nanine， or why had she not written? What was the meaning of those tears， this absence， this mystery?

That is what I asked myself in affright， as I stood in the vacant room， gazing at the clock， which pointed to midnight， and seemed to say to me that it was too late to hope for my mistress's return.Yet， after all the arrangements we had just made， after the sacrifices that had been offered and accepted， was it likely that she was deceiving me? No.I tried to get rid of my first supposition.

Probably she had found a purchaser for her furniture， and she had gone to Paris to conclude the bargain.She did not wish to tell me beforehand， for she knew that， though I had consented to it， the sale， so necessary to our future happiness， was painful to me， and she feared to wound my self-respect in speaking to me about it.She would rather not see me till the whole thing was done， and that was evidently why Prudence was expecting her when she let out the secret.Marguerite could not finish the whole business to-day， and was staying the night with Prudence， or perhaps she would come even now， for she must know bow anxious I should be， and would not wish to leave me in that condition.But， if so， why those tears? No doubt， despite her love for me， the poor girl could not make up her mind to give up all the luxury in which she had lived until now， and for which she had been so envied， without crying over it.I was quite ready to forgive her for such regrets.I waited for her impatiently， that I might say to her， as I covered her with kisses， that I had guessed the reason of her mysterious absence.

Nevertheless， the night went on， and Marguerite did not return.

My anxiety tightened its circle little by little， and began to oppress my head and heart.Perhaps something had happened to her.Perhaps she was injured， ill， dead.Perhaps a messenger would arrive with the news of some dreadful accident.Perhaps the daylight would find me with the same uncertainty and with the same fears.

The idea that Marguerite was perhaps unfaithful to me at the very moment when I waited for her in terror at her absence did not return to my mind.There must be some cause， independent of her will， to keep her away from me， and the more I thought， the more convinced I was that this cause could only be some mishap or other.O vanity of man， coming back to us in every form!

One o'clock struck.I said to myself that I would wait another hour， but that at two o'clock， if Marguerite had not returned， I would set out for Paris.Meanwhile I looked about for a book， for I dared not think.Manon Lescaut was open on the table.It seemed to me that here and there the pages were wet as if with tears.I turned the leaves over and then closed the book， for the letters seemed to me void of meaning through the veil of my doubts.

Time went slowly.The sky was covered with clouds.An autumn rain lashed the windows.The empty bed seemed at moments to assume the aspect of a tomb.I was afraid.

I opened the door.I listened， and heard nothing but the voice of the wind in the trees.Not a vehicle was to be seen on the road.The half hour sounded sadly from the church tower.

I began to fear lest some one should enter.It seemed to me that only a disaster could come at that hour and under that sombre sky.

Two o'clock struck.I still waited a little.Only the sound of the bell troubled the silence with its monotonous and rhythmical stroke.

At last I left the room， where every object had assumed that melancholy aspect which the restless solitude of the heart gives to all its surroundings.

In the next room I found Nanine sleeping over her work.At the sound of the door， she awoke and asked if her mistress had come in.

“No; but if she comes in， tell her that I was so anxious that I had to go to Paris.”

“At this hour?”

“Yes.”

“But how? You won't find a carriage.”

“I will walk.”

“But it is raining.”

“No matter.”

“But madame will be coming back， or if she doesn't come it will be time enough in the morning to go and see what has kept her.You will be murdered on the way.”

“There is no danger， my dear Nanine; I will see you to-morrow.”

The good girl went and got me a cloak， put it over my shoulders， and offered to wake up Mme.Arnould to see if a vehicle could be obtained; but I would hear of nothing， convinced as I was that I should lose， in a perhaps fruitless inquiry， more time than I should take to cover half the road.Besides， I felt the need of air and physical fatigue in order to cool down the over-excitement which possessed me.

I took the key of the flat in the Rue d'Antin， and after saying good-bye to Nanine， who came with me as far as the gate， I set out.

At first I began to run， but the earth was muddy with rain， and I fatigued myself doubly.At the end of half an hour I was obliged to stop， and I was drenched with sweat.I recovered my breath and went on.The night was so dark that at every step I feared to dash myself against one of the trees on the roadside， which rose up sharply before me like great phantoms rushing upon me.

I overtook one or two wagons， which I soon left behind.A carriage was going at full gallop toward Bougival.As it passed me the hope came to me that Marguerite was in it.I stopped and cried out， “Marguerite! Marguerite!”But no one answered and the carriage continued its course.I watched it fade away in the distance， and then started on my way again.I took two hours to reach the Barriere de l'Etoile.The sight of Paris restored my strength， and I ran the whole length of the alley I had so often walked.

That night no one was passing; it was like going through the midst of a dead city.The dawn began to break.When I reached the Rue d'Antin the great city stirred a little before quite awakening.Five o'clock struck at the church of Saint Roch at the moment when I entered Marguerite's house.I called out my name to the porter， who had had from me enough twenty-franc pieces to know that I had the right to call on Mlle.Gautier at five in the morning.I passed without difficulty.I might have asked if Marguerite was at home， but he might have said “No，”and I preferred to remain in doubt two minutes longer， for， as long as I doubted， there was still hope.

I listened at the door， trying to discover a sound， a movement.Nothing.The silence of the country seemed to be continued here.I opened the door and entered.All the curtains were hermetically closed.I drew those of the dining-room and went toward the bed-room and pushed open the door.I sprang at the curtain cord and drew it violently.The curtain opened， a faint light made its way in.I rushed to the bed.It was empty.

I opened the doors one after another.I visited every room.No one.It was enough to drive one mad.

I went into the dressing-room， opened the window， and called Prudence several times.Mme.Duvernoy's window remained closed.

I went downstairs to the porter and asked him if Mlle.Gautier had come home during the day.

“Yes，”answered the man; “with Mme.Duvernoy.”

“She left no word for me?”

“No.”

“Do you know what they did afterward?”

“They went away in a carriage.”

“What sort of a carriage?”

“A private carriage.”

What could it all mean?

I rang at the next door.

“Where are you going， sir?”asked the porter， when he had opened to me.

“To Mme.Duvernoy's.”

“She has not come back.”

“You are sure?”

“Yes， sir; here's a letter even， which was brought for her last night and which I have not yet given her.”

And the porter showed me a letter which I glanced at mechanically.I recognised Marguerite's writing.I took the letter.It was addressed， “To Mme.Duvernoy， to forward to M.Duval.”

“This letter is for me，”I said to the porter， as I showed him the address.

“You are M.Duval?”he replied.

“Yes.”

“Ah! I remember.You often came to see Mme.Duvernoy.”

When I was in the street I broke the seal of the letter.If a thunder-bolt had fallen at my feet I should have been less startled than I was by what I read.

“By the time you read this letter， Armand， I shall be the mistress of another man.All is over between us.

“Go back to your father， my friend， and to your sister， and there， by the side of a pure young girl， ignorant of all our miseries， you will soon forget what you would have suffered through that lost creature who is called Marguerite Gautier， whom you have loved for an instant， and who owes to you the only happy moments of a life which， she hopes， will not be very long now.”

When I had read the last word， I thought I should have gone mad.For a moment I was really afraid of falling in the street.A cloud passed before my eyes and my blood beat in my temples.At last I came to myself a little.I looked about me， and was astonished to see the life of others continue without pausing at my distress.

I was not strong enough to endure the blow alone.Then I remembered that my father was in the same city， that I might be with him in ten minutes， and that， whatever might be the cause of my sorrow， he would share it.

I ran like a madman， like a thief， to the Hotel de Paris; I found the key in the door of my father's room; I entered.He was reading.He showed so little astonishment at seeing me， that it was as if he was expecting me.I flung myself into his arms without saying a word.I gave him Marguerite's letter， and， falling on my knees beside his bed， I wept hot tears.

Chapter 23

When the current of life had resumed its course， I could not believe that the day which I saw dawning would not be like those which had preceded it.There were moments when I fancied that some circumstance， which I could not recollect， had obliged me to spend the night away from Marguerite， but that， if I returned to Bougival， I should find her again as anxious as I had been， and that she would ask me what had detained me away from her so long.

When one's existence has contracted a habit， such as that of this love， it seems impossible that the habit should be broken without at the same time breaking all the other springs of life.I was forced from time to time to reread Marguerite's letter， in order to convince myself that I had not been dreaming.

My body， succumbing to the moral shock， was incapable of movement.Anxiety， the night walk， and the morning's news had prostrated me.My father profited by this total prostration of all my faculties to demand of me a formal promise to accompany him.I promised all that he asked， for I was incapable of sustaining a discussion， and I needed some affection to help me to live， after what had happened.I was too thankful that my father was willing to console me under such a calamity.

All that I remember is that on that day， about five o'clock， he took me with him in a post-chaise.Without a word to me， he had had my luggage packed and put up behind the chaise with his own， and so he carried me off.I did not realize what I was doing until the town had disappeared and the solitude of the road recalled to me the emptiness of my heart.Then my tears again began to flow.

My father had realized that words， even from him， would do nothing to console me， and he let me weep without saying a word， only sometimes pressing my hand， as if to remind me that I had a friend at my side.

At night I slept a little.I dreamed of Marguerite.

I woke with a start， not recalling why I was in the carriage.Then the truth came back upon me， and I let my head sink on my breast.I dared not say anything to my father.I was afraid he would say， “You see I was right when I declared that this woman did not love you.”But he did not use his advantage， and we reached C.without his having said anything to me except to speak of matters quite apart from the event which had occasioned my leaving Paris.

When I embraced my sister， I remembered what Marguerite had said about her in her letter， and I saw at once how little my sister， good as she was， would be able to make me forget my mistress.

Shooting had begun， and my father thought that it would be a distraction for me.He got up shooting parties with friends and neighbours.I went without either reluctance or enthusiasm， with that sort of apathy into which I had sunk since my departure.

We were beating about for game and I was given my post.I put down my unloaded gun at my side， and meditated.I watched the clouds pass.I let my thought wander over the solitary plains， and from time to time I heard some one call to me and point to a hare not ten paces off.None of these details escaped my father， and he was not deceived by my exterior calm.He was well aware that， broken as I now was， I should some day experience a terrible reaction， which might be dangerous， and， without seeming to make any effort to console me， he did his utmost to distract my thoughts.

My sister， naturally， knew nothing of what had happened， and she could not understand how it was that I， who had formerly been so lighthearted， had suddenly become so sad and dreamy.

Sometimes， surprising in the midst of my sadness my father's anxious scrutiny， I pressed his hand as if to ask him tacitly to forgive me for the pain which， in spite of myself， I was giving him.

Thus a month passed， but at the end of that time I could endure it no longer.The memory of Marguerite pursued me unceasingly.I had loved， I still loved this woman so much that I could not suddenly become indifferent to her.I had to love or to hate her.Above all， whatever I felt for her， I had to see her again， and at once.This desire possessed my mind， and with all the violence of a will which had begun to reassert itself in a body so long inert.

It was not enough for me to see Marguerite in a month， a week.I had to see her the very next day after the day when the thought had occurred to me; and I went to my father and told him that I had been called to Paris on business， but that I should return promptly.No doubt he guessed the reason of my departure， for he insisted that I should stay， but， seeing that if I did not carry out my intention the consequences， in the state in which I was， might be fatal， he embraced me， and begged me， almost， with tears， to return without delay.

I did not sleep on the way to Paris.Once there， what was I going to do? I did not know; I only knew that it must be something connected with Marguerite.I went to my rooms to change my clothes， and， as the weather was fine and it was still early， I made my way to the Champs-Elysees.At the end of half an hour I saw Marguerite's carriage， at some distance， coming from the Rond-Point to the Place de la Concorde.She had repurchased her horses， for the carriage was just as I was accustomed to see it， but she was not in it.Scarcely had I noticed this fact， when looking around me， I saw Marguerite on foot， accompanied by a woman whom I had never seen.

As she passed me she turned pale， and a nervous smile tightened about her lips.For my part， my heart beat violently in my breast; but I succeeded in giving a cold expression to my face， as I bowed coldly to my former mistress， who just then reached her carriage， into which she got with her friend.

I knew Marguerite: this unexpected meeting must certainly have upset her.No doubt she had heard that I had gone away， and had thus been reassured as to the consequences of our rupture; but， seeing me again in Paris， finding herself face to face with me， pale as I was， she must have realized that I had not returned without purpose， and she must have asked herself what that purpose was.

If I had seen Marguerite unhappy， if， in revenging myself upon her， I could have come to her aid， I should perhaps have forgiven her， and certainly I should have never dreamt of doing her an injury.But I found her apparently happy， some one else had restored to her the luxury which I could not give her; her breaking with me seemed to assume a character of the basest self-interest; I was lowered in my own esteem as well as in my love.I resolved that she should pay for what I had suffered.

I could not be indifferent to what she did， consequently what would hurt her the most would be my indifference; it was， therefore， this sentiment which I must affect， not only in her eyes， but in the eyes of others.

I tried to put on a smiling countenance， and I went to call on Prudence.The maid announced me， and I had to wait a few minutes in the drawing-room.At last Mme.Duvernoy appeared and asked me into her boudoir; as I seated myself I heard the drawing-room door open， a light footstep made the floor creak and the front door was closed violently.

“I am disturbing you，”I said to Prudence.

“Not in the least.Marguerite was there.When she heard you announced， she made her escape; it was she who has just gone out.”

“Is she afraid of me now?”

“No， but she is afraid that you would not wish to see her.”

“But why?”I said， drawing my breath with difficulty， for I was choked with emotion.“The poor girl left me for her carriage， her furniture， and her diamonds; she did quite right， and I don't bear her any grudge.I met her to-day，”I continued carelessly.

“Where?”asked Prudence， looking at me and seeming to ask herself if this was the same man whom she had known so madly in love.

“In the Champs-Elysees.She was with another woman， very pretty.Who is she?”

“What was she like?”

“Blonde， slender， with side curls; blue eyes; very elegant.”

“Ali! It was Olympe; she is really very pretty.”

“Whom does she live with?”

“With nobody; with anybody.”

“Where does she live?”

“Rue Troncliet， No— Do you want to make love to her?”

“One never knows.”

“And Marguerite?”

“I should hardly tell you the truth if I said I think no more about her; but I am one of those with whom everything depends on the way in which one breaks with them.Now Marguerite ended with me so lightly that I realize I was a great fool to have been as much in love with her as I was， for I was really very much in love with that girl.”

You can imagine the way in which I said that; the sweat broke out on my forehead.

“She was very fond of you， you know， and she still is; the proof is， that after meeting you to-day， she came straight to tell me about it.When she got here she was all of a tremble; I thought she was going to faint.”

“Well， what did she say?”

“She said， ‘He is sure to come here，’ and she begged me to ask you to forgive her.”

“I have forgiven her， you may tell her.She was a good girl; but， after all， like the others， and I ought to have expected what happened.I am even grateful to her， for I see now what would have happened if I had lived with her altogether.It was ridiculous.”

“She will be very glad to find that you take it so well.It was quite time she left you， my dear fellow.The rascal of an agent to whom she had offered to sell her furniture went around to her creditors to find out how much she owed; they took fright， and in two days she would have been sold up.”

“And now it is all paid?”

“More or less.”

“And who has supplied the money?”

“The Comte de N.Ah， my dear friend， there are men made on purpose for such occasions.To cut a long story short he gave her twenty thousand francs， but he has had his way at last.He knows quite well that Marguerite is not in love with him; but he is very nice with her all the same.As you have seen， he has repurchased her horses， he has taken her jewels out of pawn， and he gives her as much money as the duke used to give her; if she likes to live quietly， he will stay with her a long time.”

“And what is she doing? Is she living in Paris altogether?”

“She would never go back to Bougival after you went.I had to go myself and see after all her things， and yours， too.I made a package of them and you can send here for them.You will find everything， except a little case with your initials.Marguerite wanted to keep it.If you really want it， I will ask her for it.”

“Let her keep it，”I stammered， for I felt the tears rise from my heart to my eyes at the recollection of the village where I had been so happy， and at the thought that Marguerite cared to keep something which had belonged to me and would recall me to her.If she had entered at that moment my thoughts of vengeance would have disappeared， and I should have fallen at her feet.

“For the rest，”continued Prudence， “I never saw her as she is now; she hardly takes any sleep， she goes to all the balls， she goes to suppers， she even drinks.The other day， after a supper， she had to stay in bed for a week; and when the doctor let her get up， she began again at the risk of her life.Shall you go and see her?”

“What is the good? I came to see you， because you have always been charming to me， and I knew you before I ever knew Marguerite.I owe it to you that I have been her lover， and also， don't I， that I am her lover no longer?”

“Well， I did all I could to get her away from you， and I believe you will be thankful to me later on.”

“I owe you a double gratitude，”I added， rising， for I was disgusted with the woman， seeing her take every word I said to her as if it were serious.

“You are going?”

“Yes.”

I had learned enough.

“When shall I be seeing you?”

“Soon.Good-bye.”

“Good-bye.”

Prudence saw me to the door， and I went back to my own rooms with tears of rage in my eyes and a desire for vengeance in my heart.

So Marguerite was no different from the others; so the steadfast love that she had had for me could not resist the desire of returning to her former life， and the need of having a carriage and plunging into dissipation.So I said to myself， as I lay awake at night though if I had reflected as calmly as I professed to I should have seen in this new and turbulent life of Marguerite the attempt to silence a constant thought， a ceaseless memory.Unfortunately， evil passion had the upper hand， and I only sought for some means of avenging myself on the poor creature.Oh， how petty and vile is man when he is wounded in one of his narrow passions!

This Olympe whom I had seen was， if not a friend of Marguerite， at all events the woman with whom she was most often seen since her return to Paris.She was going to give a ball， and， as I took it for granted that Marguerite would be there， I tried to get an invitation and succeeded.

When， full of my sorrowful emotions， I arrived at the ball， it was already very animated.They were dancing， shouting even， and in one of the quadrilles I perceived Marguerite dancing with the Comte de N.， who seemed proud of showing her off， as if he said to everybody: “This woman is mine.”

I leaned against the mantel-piece just opposite Marguerite and watched her dancing.Her face changed the moment she caught sight of me.I saluted her casually with a glance of the eyes and a wave of the hand.

When I reflected that after the ball she would go home， not with me but with that rich fool， when I thought of what would follow their return， the blood rose to my face， and I felt the need of doing something to trouble their relations.

After the contredanse I went up to the mistress of the house， who displayed for the benefit of her guests a dazzling bosom and magnificent shoulders.She was beautiful， and， from the point of view of figure， more beautiful than Marguerite.I realized this fact still more clearly from certain glances which Marguerite bestowed upon her while I was talking with her.The man who was the lover of such a woman might well be as proud as M.de N.， and she was beautiful enough to inspire a passion not less great than that which Marguerite had inspired in me.At that moment she had no lover.It would not be difficult to become so; it depended only on showing enough money to attract her attention.

I made up my mind.That woman should be my mistress.I began by dancing with her.Half an hour afterward， Marguerite， pale as death， put on her pelisse and left the ball.

Chapter 24

It was something already， but it was not enough.I saw the hold which I had upon this woman， and I took a cowardly advantage of it.

When I think that she is dead now， I ask myself if God will ever forgive me for the wrong I did her.

After the supper， which was noisy as could be， there was gambling.I sat by the side of Olympe and put down my money so recklessly that she could not but notice me.In an instant I had gained one hundred and fifty or two hundred louis， which I spread out before me on the table， and on which she fastened her eyes greedily.

I was the only one not completely absorbed by the game， and able to pay her some attention.All the rest of the night I gained， and it was I who gave her money to play， for she had lost all she had before her and probably all she had in the house.

At five in the morning， the guests departed.I had gained three hundred louis.

All the players were already on their way downstairs; I was the only one who had remained behind， and as I did not know any of them， no one noticed it.Olympe herself was lighting the way， and I was going to follow the others， when， turning back， I said to her:

“I must speak to you.”

“To-morrow，”she said.

“No， now.”

“What have you to say?”

“You will see.”

And I went back into the room.

“You have lost，”I said.

“Yes.”

“All that you had in the house?”

She hesitated.

“Be frank.”

“Well， it is true.”

“I have won three hundred louis.Here they are， if you will let me stay here to-night.”

And I threw the gold on the table.

“And why this proposition?”

“Because I am in love with you， of course.”

“No， but because you love Marguerite， and you want to have your revenge upon her by becoming my lover.You don't deceive a woman like me， my dear friend; unluckily， I am still too young and too good-looking to accept the part that you offer me.”

“So you refuse?”

“Yes.”

“Would you rather take me for nothing? It is I who wouldn't accept then.Think it over， my dear Olympe; if I had sent some one to offer you these three hundred louis on my behalf， on the conditions I attach to them， you would have accepted.I preferred to speak to you myself.Accept without inquiring into my reasons; say to yourself that you are beautiful， and that there is nothing surprising in my being in love with you.”

Marguerite was a woman in the same position as Olympe， and yet I should never have dared say to her the first time I met her what I had said to the other woman.I loved Marguerite.I saw in her instincts which were lacking in the other， and at the very moment in which I made my bargain， I felt a disgust toward the woman with whom I was making it.

She accepted， of course， in the end， and at midday I left her house as her lover; but I quitted her without a recollection of the caresses and of the words of love which she had felt bound to shower upon me in return for the six thousand francs which I left with her.And yet there were men who had ruined themselves for that woman.

From that day I inflicted on Marguerite a continual persecution.Olympe and she gave up seeing one another， as you might imagine.I gave my new mistress a carriage and jewels.I gambled， I committed every extravagance which could be expected of a man in love with such a woman as Olympe.The report of my new infatuation was immediately spread abroad.

Prudence herself was taken in， and finally thought that I had completely forgotten Marguerite.Marguerite herself， whether she guessed my motive or was deceived like everybody else， preserved a perfect dignity in response to the insults which I heaped upon her daily.Only， she seemed to suffer， for whenever I met her she was more and more pale， more and more sad.My love for her， carried to the point at which it was transformed into hatred， rejoiced at the sight of her daily sorrow.Often， when my cruelty toward her became infamous， Marguerite lifted upon me such appealing eyes that I blushed for the part I was playing， and was ready to implore her forgiveness.

But my repentance was only of a moment's duration， and Olympe， who had finally put aside all self-respect， and discovered that by annoying Marguerite she could get from me whatever she wanted， constantly stirred up my resentment against her， and insulted her whenever she found an opportunity， with the cowardly persistence of a woman licensed by the authority of a man.

At last Marguerite gave up going to balls or theatres， for fear of meeting Olympe and me.Then direct impertinences gave way to anonymous letters， and there was not a shameful thing which I did not encourage my mistress to relate and which I did not myself relate in reference to Marguerite.

To reach such a point I must have been literally mad.I was like a man drunk upon bad wine， who falls into one of those nervous exaltations in which the hand is capable of committing a crime without the head knowing anything about it.In the midst of it all I endured a martyrdom.The not disdainful calm， the not contemptuous dignity with which Marguerite responded to all my attacks， and which raised her above me in my own eyes， enraged me still more against her.

One evening Olympe had gone somewhere or other， and had met Marguerite， who for once had not spared the foolish creature， so that she had had to retire in confusion.Olympe returned in a fury， and Marguerite fainted and had to be carried out.Olympe related to me what had happened， declared that Marguerite， seeing her alone， had revenged herself upon her because she was my mistress， and that I must write and tell her to respect the woman whom I loved， whether I was present or absent.

I need not tell you that I consented， and that I put into the letter which I sent to her address the same day， everything bitter， shameful， and cruel that I could think of.

This time the blow was more than the unhappy creature could endure without replying.I felt sure that an answer would come， and I resolved not to go out all day.About two there was a ring， and Prudence entered.

I tried to assume an indifferent air as I asked her what had brought her; but that day Mme.Duvernoy was not in a laughing humour， and in a really moved voice she said to me that since my return， that is to say for about three weeks， I had left no occasion untried which could give pain to Marguerite， that she was completely upset by it， and that the scene of last night and my angry letter of the morning had forced her to take to her bed.In short， without making any reproach， Marguerite sent to ask me for a little pity， since she had no longer the moral or physical strength to endure what I was making her suffer.

“That Mlle.Gautier，”I said to Prudence， “should turn me out of her own house is quite reasonable， but that she should insult the woman whom I love， under the pretence that this woman is my mistress， is a thing I will never permit.”

“My friend，”said Prudence， “you are under the influence of a woman who has neither heart nor sense; you are in love with her， it is true， but that is not a reason for torturing a woman who can not defend herself.”

“Let Mlle.Gautier send me her Comte de N.and the sides will be equal.”

“You know very well that she will not do that.So， my dear Armand， let her alone.If you saw her you would be ashamed of the way in which you are treating her.She is white， she coughs—she won't last long now.”

And Prudence held out her hand to me， adding:

“Come and see her; it will make her very happy.”

“I have no desire to meet M.de N.”

“M.de N.is never there.She can not endure him.”

“If Marguerite wishes to see me， she knows where I live; let her come to see me， but， for my part， I will never put foot in the Rue d'Antin.”

“Will you receive her well?”

“Certainly.”

“Well， I am sure that she will come.”

“Let her come.”

“Shall you be out to-day?”

“I shall be at home all the evening.”

“I will tell her.”

And Prudence left me.

I did not even write to tell Olympe not to expect me.I never troubled much about her， scarcely going to see her one night a week.She consoled herself， I believe， with an actor from some theatre or other.

I went out for dinner and came back almost immediately.I had a fire lit in my room and I told Joseph he could go out.

I can give you no idea of the different impressions which agitated me during the hour in which I waited; but when， toward nine o'clock， I heard a ring， they thronged together into one such emotion， that， as I opened the door， I was obliged to lean against the wall to keep myself from falling.

Fortunately the anteroom was in half darkness， and the change in my countenance was less visible.Marguerite entered.

She was dressed in black and veiled.I could scarcely recognise her face through the veil.She went into the drawing-room and raised her veil.She was pale as marble.

“I am here， Armand，”she said; “you wished to see me and I have come.”

And letting her head fall on her hands， she burst into tears.

I went up to her.

“What is the matter?”I said to her in a low voice.

She pressed my hand without a word， for tears still veiled her voice.But after a few minutes， recovering herself a little， she said to me:

“You have been very unkind to me， Armand， and I have done nothing to you.”

“Nothing?”I answered， with a bitter smile.

“Nothing but what circumstances forced me to do.”

I do not know if you have ever in your life experienced， or if you will ever experience， what I felt at the sight of Marguerite.

The last time she had come to see me she had sat in the same place where she was now sitting; only， since then， she had been the mistress of another man， other kisses than mine had touched her lips， toward which， in spite of myself， my own reached out， and yet I felt that I loved this woman as much， more perhaps， than I had ever loved her.

It was difficult for me to begin the conversation on the subject which brought her.Marguerite no doubt realized it， for she went on:

“I have come to trouble you， Armand， for I have two things to ask: pardon for what I said yesterday to Mlle.Olympe， and pity for what you are perhaps still ready to do to me.Intentionally or not， since your return you have given me so much pain that I should be incapable now of enduring a fourth part of what I have endured till now.You will have pity on me， won't you? And you will understand that a man who is not heartless has other nobler things to do than to take his revenge upon a sick and sad woman like me.See， take my hand.I am in a fever.I left my bed to come to you， and ask， not for your friendship， but for your indifference.”

I took Marguerite's hand.It was burning， and the poor woman shivered under her fur cloak.

I rolled the arm-chair in which she was sitting up to the fire.

“Do you think， then， that I did not suffer，”said I， “on that night when， after waiting for you in the country， I came to look for you in Paris， and found nothing but the letter which nearly drove me mad? How could you have deceived me， Marguerite， when I loved you so much? ”

“Do not speak of that， Armand; I did not come to speak of that.I wanted to see you only not an enemy， and I wanted to take your hand once more.You have a mistress; she is young， pretty， you love her they say.Be happy with her and forget me.”

“And you.You are happy， no doubt?”

“Have I the face of a happy woman， Armand? Do not mock my sorrow， you， who know better than any one what its cause and its depth are.”

“It only depended on you not to have been unhappy at all， if you are as you say.”

“No， my friend; circumstances were stronger than my will.I obeyed， not the instincts of a light woman， as you seem to say， but a serious necessity， and reasons which you will know one day， and which will make you forgive me.”

“Why do you not tell me those reasons to-day?”

“Because they would not bring about an impossible reunion between us， and they would separate you perhaps from those from whom you must not be separated.”

“Who do you mean?”

“I can not tell you.”

“Then you are lying to me.”

Marguerite rose and went toward the door.I could not behold this silent and expressive sorrow without being touched， when I compared in my mind this pale and weeping woman with the madcap who had made fun of me at the Opera Comique.

“You shall not go，”I said， putting myself in front of the door.

“Why?”

“Because， in spite of what you have done to me， I love you always， and I want you to stay here.”

“To turn me out to-morrow? No; it is impossible.Our destinies are separate; do not try to reunite them.You will despise me perhaps， while now you can only hate me.”

“No， Marguerite，”I cried， feeling all my love and all my desire reawaken at the contact of this woman.“No， I will forget everything， and we will be happy as we promised one another that we would be.”

Marguerite shook her head doubtfully， and said:

“Am I not your slave， your dog? Do with me what you will.Take me; I am yours.”

And throwing off her cloak and hat， she flung them on the sofa， and began hurriedly to undo the front of her dress， for， by one of those reactions so frequent in her malady， the blood rushed to her head and stifled her.A hard， dry cough followed.

“Tell my coachman，”she said， “to go back with the carriage.”

I went down myself and sent him away.When I returned Marguerite was lying in front of the fire， and her teeth chattered with the cold.

I took her in my arms.I undressed her， without her making a movement， and carried her， icy cold， to the bed.Then I sat beside her and tried to warm her with my caresses.She did not speak a word， but smiled at me.

It was a strange night.All Marguerite's life seemed to have passed into the kisses with which she covered me， and I loved her so much that in my transports of feverish love I asked myself whether I should not kill her， so that she might never belong to another.

A month of love like that， and there would have remained only the corpse of heart or body.

The dawn found us both awake.Marguerite was livid white.She did not speak a word.From time to time， big tears rolled from her eyes， and stayed upon her cheeks， shining like diamonds.Her thin arms opened， from time to time， to hold me fast， and fell back helplessly upon the bed.

For a moment it seemed to me as if I could forget all that had passed since I had left Bougival， and I said to Marguerite:

“Shall we go away and leave Paris?”

“No， no!”she said， almost with affright; “we should be too unhappy.I can do no more to make you happy， but while there is a breath of life in me， I will be the slave of your fancies.At whatever hour of the day or night you will， come， and I will be yours; but do not link your future any more with mine， you would be too unhappy and you would make me too unhappy.I shall still be pretty for a while; make the most of it， but ask nothing more.”

When she had gone， I was frightened at the solitude in which she left me.Two hours afterward I was still sitting on the side of the bed， looking at the pillow which kept the imprint of her form， and asking myself what was to become of me， between my love and my jealousy.

At five o'clock， without knowing what I was going to do， I went to the Rue d'Antin.

Nanine opened to me.

“Madame can not receive you，”she said in an embarrassed way.

“Why?”

“Because M.le Comte de N.is there， and he has given orders to let no one in.”

“Quite so，”I stammered; “I forgot.”

I went home like a drunken man， and do you know what I did during the moment of jealous delirium which was long enough for the shameful thing I was going to do? I said to myself that the woman was laughing at me; I saw her alone with the count， saying over to him the same words that she had said to me in the night， and taking a five-hundred-franc note I sent it to her with these words:

“You went away so suddenly that I forgot to pay you.Here is the price of your night.”

Then when the letter was sent I went out as if to free myself from the instantaneous remorse of this infamous action.

I went to see Olympe， whom I found trying on dresses， and when we were alone she sang obscene songs to amuse me.She was the very type of the shameless， heartless， senseless courtesan， for me at least， for perhaps some men might have dreamed of her as I dreamed of Marguerite.She asked me for money.I gave it to her， and， free then to go， I returned home.

Marguerite had not answered.

I need not tell you in what state of agitation I spent the next day.At half past nine a messenger brought me an envelope containing my letter and the five-hundred-franc note， not a word more.

“Who gave you this?”I asked the man.

“A lady who was starting with her maid in the next mail for Boulogne， and who told me not to take it until the coach was out of the courtyard.”

I rushed to the Rue d'Antin.

“Madame left for England at six o'clock，”said the porter.

There was nothing to hold me in Paris any longer， neither hate nor love.I was exhausted by this series of shocks.One of my friends was setting out on a tour in the East.I told my father I should like to accompany him; my father gave me drafts and letters of introduction， and eight or ten days afterward I embarked at Marseilles.

It was at Alexandria that I learned from an attache at the embassy， whom I had sometimes seen at Marguerite's， that the poor girl was seriously ill.

I then wrote her the letter which she answered in the way you know; I received it at Toulon.

I started at once， and you know the rest.

Now you have only to read a few sheets which Julie Duprat gave me; they are the best commentary on what I have just told you.

Chapter 25

Armand， tired by this long narrative， often interrupted by his tears， put his two hands over his forehead and closed his eyes to think， or to try to sleep， after giving me the pages written by the hand of Marguerite.A few minutes after， a more rapid breathing told me that Armand slept， but that light sleep which the least sound banishes.

This is what I read; I copy it without adding or omitting a syllable:

To-day is the 15th December.I have been ill three or four days.This morning I stayed in bed.The weather is dark， I am sad; there is no one by me.I think of you， Armand.And you， where are you， while I write these lines? Far from Paris， far， far， they tell me， and perhaps you have already forgotten Marguerite.Well， be happy; I owe you the only happy moments in my life.

I can not help wanting to explain all my conduct to you， and I have written you a letter; but， written by a girl like me， such a letter might seem to be a lie， unless death had sanctified it by its authority， and， instead of a letter， it were a confession.

To-day I am ill; I may die of this illness， for I have always had the presentiment that I shall die young.My mother died of consumption， and the way I have always lived could but increase the only heritage she ever left me.But I do not want to die without clearing up for you everything about me; that is， if， when you come back， you will still trouble yourself about the poor girl whom you loved before you went away.

This is what the letter contained; I shall like writing it over again， so as to give myself another proof of my own justification.

You remember， Armand， how the arrival of your father surprised us at Bougival; you remember the involuntary fright that his arrival caused me， and the scene which took place between you and him， which you told me of in the evening.

Next day， when you were at Paris， waiting for your father， and he did not return， a man came to the door and handed in a letter from M.Duval.

His letter， which I inclose with this， begged me， in the most serious terms， to keep you away on the following day， on some excuse or other， and to see your father， who wished to speak to me， and asked me particularly not to say anything to you about it.

You know how I insisted on your returning to Paris next day.

You had only been gone an hour when your father presented himself.I won't say what impression his severe face made upon me.Your father had the old theory that a courtesan is a being without heart or reason， a sort of machine for coining gold， always ready， like the machine， to bruise the hand that gives her everything， and to tear in pieces， without pity or discernment， those who set her in motion.

Your father had written me a very polite letter， in order that I might consent to see him; he did not present himself quite as he had written.His manner at first was so stiff， insolent， and even threatening， that I had to make him understand that I was in my own house， and that I had no need to render him an account of my life， except because of the sincere affection which I had for his son.

M.Duval calmed down a little， but still went on to say that he could not any longer allow his son to ruin himself over me; that I was beautiful， it was true， but， however beautiful I might be， I ought not to make use of my beauty to spoil the future of a young man by such expenditure as I was causing.

At that there was only one thing to do， to show him the proof that since I was your mistress I had spared no sacrifice to be faithful to you without asking for more money than you had to give me.I showed him the pawn tickets， the receipts of the people to whom I had sold what I could not pawn; I told him of my resolve to part with my furniture in order to pay my debts， and live with you without being a too heavy expense.I told him of our happiness， of how you had shown me the possibility of a quieter and happier life， and he ended by giving in to the evidence， offering me his hand， and asking pardon for the way in which he had at first approached me.

Then he said to me:

“So， madame， it is not by remonstrances or by threats， but by entreaties， that I must endeavour to obtain from you a greater sacrifice than you have yet made for my son.”

I trembled at this beginning.

Your father came over to me， took both my hands， and continued in an affectionate voice:

“My child， do not take what I have to say to you amiss; only remember that there are sometimes in life cruel necessities for the heart， but that they must be submitted to.You are good， your soul has generosity unknown to many women who perhaps despise you， and are less worthy than you.But remember that there is not only the mistress， but the family; that besides love there are duties; that to the age of passion succeeds the age when man， if he is to be respected， must plant himself solidly in a serious position.My son has no fortune， and yet he is ready to abandon to you the legacy of his mother.If he accepted from you the sacrifice which you are on the point of making， his honour and dignity would require him to give you， in exchange for it， this income， which would always put you out of danger of adversity.But he can not accept this sacrifice， because the world， which does not know you， would give a wrong interpretation to this acceptance， and such an interpretation must not tarnish the name which we bear.No one would consider whether Armand loves you， whether you love him， whether this mutual love means happiness to him and redemption to you; they would see only one thing， that Armand Duval allowed a kept woman （forgive me， my child， for what I am forced to say to you） to sell all she had for him.Then the day of reproaches and regrets would arrive， be sure， for you or for others， and you would both bear a chain that you could not sever.What would you do then? Your youth would be lost， my son's future destroyed; and I， his father， should receive from only one of my children the recompense that I look for from both.

“You are young， beautiful， life will console you; you are noble， and the memory of a good deed will redeem you from many past deeds.During the six months that he has known you Armand has forgotten me.I wrote to him four times， and he has never once replied.I might have died and he not known it!

“Whatever may be your resolution of living otherwise than as you have lived， Armand， who loves you， will never consent to the seclusion to which his modest fortune would condemn you， and to which your beauty does not entitle you.Who knows what he would do then! He has gambled， I know; without telling you of it， I know also， but， in a moment of madness， he might have lost part of what I have saved， during many years， for my daughter's portion， for him， and for the repose of my old age.What might have happened may yet happen.

“Are you sure， besides， that the life which you are giving up for him will never again come to attract you? Are you sure， you who have loved him， that you will never love another? Would you not-suffer on seeing the hindrances set by your love to your lover's life， hindrances for which you would be powerless to console him， if， with age， thoughts of ambition should succeed to dreams of love? Think over all that， madame.You love Armand; prove it to him by the sole means which remains to you of yet proving it to him， by sacrificing your love to his future.No misfortune has yet arrived， but one will arrive， and perhaps a greater one than those which I foresee.Armand might become jealous of a man who has loved you; he might provoke him， fight， be killed.Think， then， what you would suffer in the presence of a father who should call on you to render an account for the life of his son!

“Finally， my dear child， let me tell you all， for I have not yet told you all， let me tell you what has brought me to Paris.I have a daughter， as I have told you， young， beautiful， pure as an angel.She loves， and she， too， has made this love the dream of her life.I wrote all that to Armand， but， absorbed in you， he made no reply.Well， my daughter is about to marry.She is to marry the man whom she loves; she enters an honourable family， which requires that mine has to be no less honourable.The family of the man who is to become my son-in-law has learned what manner of life Armand is leading in Paris， and has declared to me that the marriage must be broken off if Armand continues this life.The future of a child who has done nothing against you， and who has the right of looking forward to a happy future， is in your hands.Have you the right， have you the strength， to shatter it? In the name of your love and of your repentance， Marguerite， grant me the happiness of my child.”

I wept silently， my friend， at all these reflections which I had so often made， and which， in the mouth of your father， took a yet more serious reality.I said to myself all that your father dared not say to me， though it had come to his lips twenty times: that I was， after all， only a kept woman， and that whatever excuse I gave for our liaison， it would always look like calculation on my part; that my past life left me no right to dream of such a future， and that I was accepting responsibilities for which my habits and reputation were far from giving any guarantee.In short， I loved you， Armand.

The paternal way in which M.Duval had spoken to me; the pure memories that he awakened in me; the respect of this old man， which I would gain; yours， which I was sure of gaining later on: all that called up in my heart thoughts which raised me in my own eyes with a sort of holy pride， unknown till then.When I thought that one day this old man， who was now imploring me for the future of his son， would bid his daughter mingle my name with her prayers， as the name of a mysterious friend， I seemed to become transformed， and I felt a pride in myself.

The exaltation of the moment perhaps exaggerated the truth of these impressions， but that was what I felt， friend， and these new feelings silenced the memory of the happy days I had spent with you.

“Tell me， sir，”I said to your father， wiping away my tears， “do you believe that I love your son?”

“Yes，”said M.Duval.

“With a disinterested love?”

“Yes.”

“Do you believe that I had made this love the hope， the dream， the forgiveness—of my life?”

“Implicitly.”

“Well， sir， embrace me once， as you would embrace your daughter， and I swear to you that that kiss， the only chaste kiss I have ever had， will make me strong against my love， and that within a week your son will be once more at your side， perhaps unhappy for a time， but cured forever.”

“You are a noble child，”replied your father， kissing me on the forehead， “and you are making an attempt for which God will reward you; but I greatly fear that you will have no influence upon my son.”

“Oh， be at rest， sir; he will hate me.”

I had to set up between us， as much for me as for you， an insurmountable barrier.

I wrote to Prudence to say that I accepted the proposition of the Comte de N.， and that she was to tell him that I would sup with her and him.I sealed the letter， and， without telling him what it contained， asked your father to have it forwarded to its address on reaching Paris.

He inquired of me what it contained.

“Your son's welfare，”I answered.

Your father embraced me once more.I felt two grateful tears on my forehead， like the baptism of my past faults， and at the moment when I consented to give myself up to another man I glowed with pride at the thought of what I was redeeming by this new fault.

It was quite natural， Armand.You told me that your father was the most honest man in the world.

M.Duval returned to his carriage， and set out for Paris.

I was only a woman， and when I saw you again I could not help weeping， but I did not give way.

Did I do right? That is what I ask myself to-day， as I lie ill in my bed， that I shall never leave， perhaps， until I am dead.

You are witness of what I felt as the hour of our separation approached; your father was no longer there to support me， and there was a moment when I was on the point of confessing everything to you， so terrified was I at the idea that you were going to hate and despise me.

One thing which you will not believe， perhaps， Armand， is that I prayed God to give me strength; and what proves that he accepted my sacrifice is that he gave me the strength for which I prayed.

At supper I still had need of aid， for I could not think of what I was going to do， so much did I fear that my courage would fail me.Who would ever have said that I， Marguerite Gautier， would have suffered so at the mere thought of a new lover? I drank for forgetfulness， and when I woke next day I was beside the count.

That is the whole truth， friend.Judge me and pardon me， as I have pardoned you for all the wrong that you have done me since that day.

Chapter 26

What followed that fatal night you know as well as I; but what you can not know， what you can not suspect， is what I have suffered since our separation.

I heard that your father had taken you away with him， but I felt sure that you could not live away from me for long， and when I met you in the Champs-Elysees， I was a little upset， but by no means surprised.

Then began that series of days; each of them brought me a fresh insult from you.I received them all with a kind of joy， for， besides proving to me that you still loved me， it seemed to me as if the more you persecuted me the more I should be raised in your eyes when you came to know the truth.

Do not wonder at my joy in martyrdom， Armand; your love for me had opened my heart to noble enthusiasm.

Still， I was not so strong as that quite at once.

Between the time of the sacrifice made for you and the time of your return a long while elapsed， during which I was obliged to have recourse to physical means in order not to go mad， and in order to be blinded and deafened in the whirl of life into which I flung myself.Prudence has told you （has she not?） how I went to all the fetes and balls and orgies.I had a sort of hope that I should kill myself by all these excesses， and I think it will not be long before this hope is realized.My health naturally got worse and worse， and when I sent Mme.Duvernoy to ask you for pity I was utterly worn out， body and soul.

I will not remind you， Armand， of the return you made for the last proof of love that I gave you， and of the outrage by which you drove away a dying woman， who could not resist your voice when you asked her for a night of love， and who， like a fool， thought for one instant that she might again unite the past with the present.You had the right to do what you did， Armand; people have not always put so high a price on a night of mine!

I left everything after that.Olympe has taken my place with the Comte de N.， and has told him， I hear， the reasons for my leaving him.The Comte de G.was at London.He is one of those men who give just enough importance to making love to women like me for it to be an agreeable pastime， and who are thus able to remain friends with women， not hating them because they have never been jealous of them， and he is， too， one of those grand seigneurs who open only a part of their hearts to us， but the whole of their purses.It was of him that I immediately thought.I joined him in London.He received me as kindly as possible， but he was the lover there of a woman in society， and he feared to compromise himself if he were seen with me.He introduced me to his friends， who gave a supper in my honour， after which one of them took me home with him.

What else was there for me to do， my friend? If I had killed myself it would have burdened your life， which ought to be happy， with a needless remorse; and then， what is the good of killing oneself when one is so near dying already?

I became a body without a soul， a thing without a thought; I lived for some time in that automatic way; then I returned to Paris， and asked after you; I heard then that you were gone on a long voyage.There was nothing left to hold me to life.My existence became what it had been two years before I knew you.I tried to win back the duke， but I had offended him too deeply.Old men are not patient， no doubt because they realize that they are not eternal.I got weaker every day.I was pale and sad and thinner than ever.Men who buy love examine the goods before taking them.At Paris there were women in better health， and not so thin as I was; I was rather forgotten.That is all the past up to yesterday.

Now I am seriously ill.I have written to the duke to ask him for money， for I have none， and the creditors have returned， and come to me with their bills with pitiless perseverance.Will the duke answer? Why are you not in Paris， Armand? You would come and see me， and your visits would do me good.

December 20.

The weather is horrible; it is snowing， and I am alone.I have been in such a fever for the last three days that I could not write you a word.No news， my friend; every day I hope vaguely for a letter from you， but it does not come， and no doubt it will never come.Only men are strong enough not to forgive.The duke has not answered.

Prudence is pawning my things again.

I have been spitting blood all the time.Oh， you would be sorry for me if you could see me.You are indeed happy to be under a warm sky， and not， like me， with a whole winter of ice on your chest.To-day I got up for a little while， and looked out through the curtains of my window， and watched the life of Paris passing below， the life with which I have now nothing more to do.I saw the faces of some people I knew， passing rapidly， joyous and careless.Not one lifted his eyes to my window.However， a few young men have come to inquire for me.Once before I was ill， and you， though you did not know me， though you had had nothing from me but an impertinence the day I met you first， you came to inquire after me every day.We spent six months together.I had all the love for you that a woman's heart can hold and give， and you are far away， you are cursing me， and there is not a word of consolation from you.But it is only chance that has made you leave me， I am sure， for if you were at Paris， you would not leave my bedside.

December 25.

My doctor tells me I must not write every day.And indeed my memories only increase my fever， but yesterday I received a letter which did me good， more because of what it said than by the material help which it contained.I can write to you， then， to-day.This letter is from your father， and this is what it says:

“MADAME: I have just learned that you are ill.If I were at Paris I would come and ask after you myself; if my son were here I would send him; but I can not leave C.， and Armand is six or seven hundred leagues from here; permit me， then， simply to write to you， madame， to tell you how pained I am to hear of your illness， and believe in my sincere wishes for your speedy recovery.

“One of my good friends， M.H.， will call on you; will you kindly receive him? I have intrusted him with a commission， the result of which I await impatiently.

“Believe me， madame，

“Yours most faithfully.”

This is the letter he sent me.Your father has a noble heart; love him well， my friend， for there are few men so worthy of being loved.This paper signed by his name has done me more good than all the prescriptions of our great doctor.

This morning M.H.called.He seemed much embarrassed by the delicate mission which M.Duval had intrusted to him.As a matter of fact， he came to bring me three thousand francs from your father.I wanted to refuse at first， but M.H.told me that my refusal would annoy M.Duval， who had authorized him to give me this sum now， and later on whatever I might need.I accepted it， for， coming from your father， it could not be exactly taking alms.If I am dead when you come back， show your father what I have written for him， and tell him that in writing these lines the poor woman to whom he was kind enough to write so consoling a letter wept tears of gratitude and prayed God for him.

January 4.

I have passed some terrible days.I never knew the body could suffer so.Oh， my past life! I pay double for it now.

There has been some one to watch by me every night; I can not breathe.What remains of my poor existence is shared between being delirious and coughing.

The dining-room is full of sweets and all sorts of presents that my friends have brought.Some of them， I dare say， are hoping that I shall be their mistress later on.If they could see what sickness has made of me， they would go away in terror.

Prudence is giving her New Year's presents with those I have received.

There is a thaw， and the doctor says that I may go out in a few days if the fine weather continues.

January 8.

I went out yesterday in my carriage.The weather was lovely.The Champs-Elysees was full of people.It was like the first smile of spring.Everything about me had a festal air.I never knew before that a ray of sunshine could contain so much joy， sweetness， and consolation.

I met almost all the people I knew， all happy， all absorbed in their pleasures.How many happy people don't even know that they are happy! Olympe passed me in an elegant carriage that M.de N.has given her.She tried to insult me by her look.She little knows how far I am from such things now.A nice fellow， whom I have known for a long time， asked me if I would have supper with him and one of his friends， who， he said， was very anxious to make my acquaintance.I smiled sadly and gave him my hand， burning with fever.I never saw such an astonished countenance.

I came in at four， and had quite an appetite for my dinner.Going out has done me good.If I were only going to get well! How the sight of the life and happiness of others gives a desire of life to those who， only the night before， in the solitude of their soul and in the shadow of their sick-room， only wanted to die soon!

January 10.

The hope of getting better was only a dream.I am back in bed again， covered with plasters which burn me.If I were to offer the body that people paid so dear for once， how much would they give， I wonder， to-day?

We must have done something very wicked before we were born， or else we must be going to be very happy indeed when we are dead， for God to let this life have all the tortures of expiation and all the sorrows of an ordeal.

January 12.

I am always ill.

The Comte de N.sent me some money yesterday.I did not keep it.I won't take anything from that man.It is through him that you are not here.

Oh， that good time at Bougival! Where is it now?

If I come out of this room alive I will make a pilgrimage to the house we lived in together， but I will never leave it until I am dead.

Who knows if I shall write to you to-morrow?

January 25.

I have not slept for eleven nights.I am suffocated.I imagine every moment that I am going to die.The doctor has forbidden me to touch a pen.Julie Duprat， who is looking after me， lets me write these few lines to you.Will you not come back before I die? Is it all over between us forever? It seems to me as if I should get well if you came.What would be the good of getting well?

January 28.

This morning I was awakened by a great noise.Julie， who slept in my room， ran into the dining-room.I heard men's voices， and hers protesting against them in vain.She came back crying.

They had come to seize my things.I told her to let what they call justice have its way.The bailiff came into my room with his hat on.He opened the drawers， wrote down what he saw， and did not even seem to be aware that there was a dying woman in the bed that fortunately the charity of the law leaves me.

He said， indeed， before going， that I could appeal within nine days， but he left a man behind to keep watch.My God! what is to become of me? This scene has made me worse than I was before.Prudence wanted to go and ask your father's friend for money， but I would not let her.

I received your letter this morning.I was in need of it.Will my answer reach you in time? Will you ever see me again? This is a happy day， and it has made me forget all the days I have passed for the last six weeks.I seem as if I am better， in spite of the feeling of sadness under the impression of which I replied to you.

After all， no one is unhappy always.

When I think that it may happen to me not to die， for you to come back， for me to see the spring again， for you still to love me， and for us to begin over again our last year's life!

Fool that I am! I can scarcely hold the pen with which I write to you of this wild dream of my heart.

Whatever happens， I loved you well， Armand， and I would have died long ago if I had not had the memory of your love to help me and a sort of vague hope of seeing you beside me again.

February 4.

The Comte de G.has returned.His mistress has been unfaithful to him.He is very sad; he was very fond of her.He came to tell me all about it.The poor fellow is in rather a bad way as to money; all the same， he has paid my bailiff and sent away the man.

I talked to him about you， and he promised to tell you about me.I forgot that I had been his mistress， and he tried to make me forget it， too.He is a good friend.

The duke sent yesterday to inquire after me， and this morning he came to see me.I do not know how the old man still keeps alive.He remained with me three hours and did not say twenty words.Two big tears fell from his eyes when he saw how pale I was.The memory of his daughter's death made him weep， no doubt.He will have seen her die twice.His back was bowed， his head bent toward the ground， his lips drooping， his eyes vacant.Age and sorrow weigh with a double weight on his worn-out body.He did not reproach me.It looked as if he rejoiced secretly to see the ravages that disease had made in me.He seemed proud of being still on his feet， while I， who am still young， was broken down by suffering.

The bad weather has returned.No one comes to see me.Julie watches by me as much as she can.Prudence， to whom I can no longer give as much as I used to， begins to make excuses for not coming.

Now that I am so near death， in spite of what the doctors tell me， for I have several， which proves that I am getting worse， I am almost sorry that I listened to your father; if I had known that I should only be taking a year of your future， I could not have resisted the longing to spend that year with you， and， at least， I should have died with a friend to hold my hand.It is true that if we had lived together this year， I should not have died so soon.

God's will be done!

February 5.

Oh， come， come， Armand! I suffer horribly; I am going to die， O God! I was so miserable yesterday that I wanted to spend the evening， which seemed as if it were going to be as long as the last， anywhere but at home.The duke came in the morning.It seems to me as if the sight of this old man， whom death has forgotten， makes me die faster.

Despite the burning fever which devoured me， I made them dress me and take me to the Vaudeville.Julie put on some rouge for me， without which I should have looked like a corpse.I had the box where I gave you our first rendezvous.All the time I had my eyes fixed on the stall where you sat that day， though a sort of country fellow sat there， laughing loudly at all the foolish things that the actors said.I was half dead when they brought me home.I coughed and spat blood all the night.To-day I can not speak， I can scarcely move my arm.My God! My God! I am going to die! I have been expecting it， but I can not get used to the thought of suffering more than I suffer now， and if—

After this the few characters traced by Marguerite were indecipherable， and what followed was written by Julie Duprat.

February 18.

MONSIEUR ARMAND:

Since the day that Marguerite insisted on going to the theatre she has got worse and worse.She has completely lost her voice， and now the use of her limbs.

What our poor friend suffers is impossible to say.I am not used to emotions of this kind， and I am in a state of constant fright.

How I wish you were here! She is almost always delirious; but delirious or lucid， it is always your name that she pronounces， when she can speak a word.

The doctor tells me that she is not here for long.Since she got so ill the old duke has not returned.He told the doctor that the sight was too much for him.

Mme.Duvernoy is not behaving well.This woman， who thought she could get more money out of Marguerite， at whose expense she was living almost completely， has contracted liabilities which she can not meet， and seeing that her neighbour is no longer of use to her， she does not even come to see her.Everybody is abandoning her.M.de G.， prosecuted for his debts， has had to return to London.On leaving， he sent us more money; he has done all he could， but they have returned to seize the things， and the creditors are only waiting for her to die in order to sell everything.

I wanted to use my last resources to put a stop to it， but the bailiff told me it was no use， and that there are other seizures to follow.Since she must die， it is better to let everything go than to save it for her family， whom she has never cared to see， and who have never cared for her.You can not conceive in the midst of what gilded misery the poor thing is dying.Yesterday we had absolutely no money.Plate， jewels， shawls， everything is in pawn; the rest is sold or seized.Marguerite is still conscious of what goes on around her， and she suffers in body， mind， and heart.Big tears trickle down her cheeks， so thin and pale that you would never recognise the face of her whom you loved so much， if you could see her.She has made me promise to write to you when she can no longer write， and I write before her.She turns her eyes toward me， but she no longer sees me; her eyes are already veiled by the coming of death; yet she smiles， and all her thoughts， all her soul are yours， I am sure.

Every time the door opens her eyes brighten， and she thinks you are going to come in; then， when she sees that it is not you， her face resumes its sorrowful expression， a cold sweat breaks out over it， and her cheek bones flush.

February 19， midnight.

What a sad day we have had to-day， poor M.Armand! This morning Marguerite was stifling; the doctor bled her， and her voice has returned to her a while.The doctor begged her to see a priest.She said “Yes，”and he went himself to fetch an abbe' from Saint Roch.

Meanwhile Marguerite called me up to her bed， asked me to open a cupboard， and pointed out a cap and a long chemise covered with lace， and said in a feeble voice:

“I shall die as soon as I have confessed.Then you will dress me in these things; it is the whim of a dying woman.”

Then she embraced me with tears and added:

“I can speak， but I am stifled when I speak; I am stifling.Air!”

I burst into tears， opened the window， and a few minutes afterward the priest entered.I went up to him; when he knew where he was， he seemed afraid of being badly received.

“Come in boldly， father，”I said to him.

He stayed a very short time in the room， and when he came out he said to me:

“She lived a sinner， and she will die a Christian.”

A few minutes afterward he returned with a choir boy bearing a crucifix， and a sacristan who went before them ringing the bell to announce that God was coming to the dying one.

They went all three into the bed-room where so many strange words have been said， but was now a sort of holy tabernacle.

I fell on my knees.I do not know how long the impression of what I saw will last， but I do not think that， till my turn comes， any human thing can make so deep an impression on me.

The priest anointed with holy oil the feet and hands and forehead of the dying woman， repeated a short prayer， and Marguerite was ready to set out for the heaven to which I doubt not she will go， if God has seen the ordeal of her life and the sanctity of her death.

Since then she has not said a word or made a movement.Twenty times I should have thought her dead if I had not heard her breathing painfully.

February 20， 5 PM

All is over.

Marguerite fell into her last agony at about two o'clock.Never did a martyr suffer such torture， to judge by the cries she uttered.Two or three times she sat upright in the bed， as if she would hold on to her life， which was escaping toward God.

Two or three times also she said your name; then all was silent， and she fell back on the bed exhausted.Silent tears flowed from her eyes， and she was dead.

Then I went up to her; I called her， and as she did not answer I closed her eyes and kissed her on the forehead.

Poor， dear Marguerite， I wish I were a holy woman that my kiss might recommend you to God.

Then I dressed her as she had asked me to do.I went to find a priest at Saint Roch， I burned two candles for her， and I prayed in the church for an hour.

I gave the money she left to the poor.

I do not know much about religion， but I think that God will know that my tears were genuine， my prayers fervent， my alms-giving sincere， and that he will have pity on her who， dying young and beautiful， has only had me to close her eyes and put her in her shroud.

February 22.

The burial took place to-day.Many of Marguerite's friends came to the church.Some of them wept with sincerity.When the funeral started on the way to Montmartre only two men followed it: the Comte de G.， who came from London on purpose， and the duke， who was supported by two footmen.

I write you these details from her house， in the midst of my tears and under the lamp which burns sadly beside a dinner which I can not touch， as you can imagine， but which Nanine has got for me， for I have eaten nothing for twenty-four hours.

My life can not retain these sad impressions for long， for my life is not my own any more than Marguerite's was hers; that is why I give you all these details on the very spot where they occurred， in the fear， if a long time elapsed between them and your return， that I might not be able to give them to you with all their melancholy exactitude.

Chapter 27

“You have read it?”said Armand， when I had finished the manuscript.

“I understand what you must have suffered， my friend， if all that I read is true.”

“My father confirmed it in a letter.”

We talked for some time over the sad destiny which had been accomplished， and I went home to rest a little.

Armand， still sad， but a little relieved by the narration of his story， soon recovered， and we went together to pay a visit to Prudence and to Julie Duprat.

Prudence had become bankrupt.She told us that Marguerite was the cause of it; that during her illness she had lent her a lot of money in the form of promissory notes， which she could not pay， Marguerite having died without having returned her the money， and without having given her a receipt with which she could present herself as a creditor.

By the help of this fable， which Mme.Duvernoy repeated everywhere in order to account for her money difficulties， she extracted a note for a thousand francs from Armand， who did not believe it， but who pretended to， out of respect for all those in whose company Marguerite had lived.

Then we called on Julie Duprat， who told us the sad incident which she had witnessed， shedding real tears at the remembrance of her friend.

Lastly， we went to Marguerite's grave， on which the first rays of the April sun were bringing the first leaves into bud.

One duty remained to Armand—to return to his father.He wished me to accompany him.

We arrived at C.， where I saw M.Duval， such as I had imagined him from the portrait his son had made of him， tall， dignified， kindly.

He welcomed Armand with tears of joy， and clasped my hand affectionately.I was not long in seeing that the paternal sentiment was that which dominated all others in his mind.

His daughter， named Blanche， had that transparence of eyes， that serenity of the mouth， which indicates a soul that conceives only holy thoughts and lips that repeat only pious words.She welcomed her brother's return with smiles， not knowing， in the purity of her youth， that far away a courtesan had sacrificed her own happiness at the mere invocation of her name.

I remained for some time in their happy family， full of indulgent care for one who brought them the convalescence of his heart.

I returned to Paris， where I wrote this story just as it had been told me.It has only one merit， which will perhaps be denied it; that is， that it is true.

I do not draw from this story the conclusion that all women like Marguerite are capable of doing all that she did—far from it; but I have discovered that one of them experienced a serious love in the course of her life， that she suffered for it， and that she died of it.I have told the reader all that I learned.It was my duty.

I am not the apostle of vice， but I would gladly be the echo of noble sorrow wherever I bear its voice in prayer.

The story of Marguerite is an exception， I repeat; had it not been an exception， it would not have been worth the trouble of writing it.

老人与海——汉英对照

老人与海

老人独自一人驾着小船在墨西哥湾流里捕鱼，八十四天过去了，一条鱼都没捕到。头四十天，还有个小男孩陪着他，但是四十天都一无所获之后，孩子的父母就跟孩子说，这老人是“铁定走了霉运，”就是说，倒霉到了极点。男孩于是顺从父母的意思去了另一只船，第一周就捕到了三条像模像样的鱼。看到老人每天驾着空船回来，男孩心中非常难过，他总会走下岸去帮老人拿卷好的绳索、鱼钩或者鱼叉，还有卷在桅杆上的帆。帆用面粉袋打满了补丁，卷着的样子像是一面象征永远失败的旗帜。

老人身体瘦削，面容憔悴，颈后有深深的皱纹，脸上生着褐斑，那是热带海洋上的光照导致的良性皮肤癌。这些斑沿着他的脸颊两侧一路长下去。他手上有深深的疤痕，是用绳子拽拉大鱼时勒的，这些都是旧伤了，年代久远得如同无鱼可打的荒漠里被侵蚀的土地。

老人身上一切都老了，但是眼睛除外。那双眼睛有着大海一般的颜色，乐观欢快，不知失败为何物。

“圣地亚哥，”两人把小船往岸上拖的时候孩子对老人说，“我又可以和你一起出海了。我们挣了点钱。”

是老人教会了男孩如何捕鱼，这孩子爱他。

“不行，”老人说，“那是只交了好运的船，继续跟他们呆着吧。”

“不过你该记得，有一回你八十七天都没捕到鱼，然后接下来的三个星期里咱们每天都捕到了很多大鱼。”

“我记得，”老人说，“我知道你不是因为怀疑而离开的。”

“是爸爸让我走的。我是个小孩，得听他的话。”

“我知道，”老人答道，“这很正常。”

“他没有什么信念。”

“是的，”老人说，“但是咱们有啊，不是吗？”“没错，”孩子说，“我能去露台饭店里请你喝杯啤酒吗？然后咱们再把这些东西带回家。”

“好啊，”老人说，“咱哥儿俩喝！”他们在露台上坐了下来，很多渔夫嘲笑老人，他并不生气。另外一些人，那些上了年纪的渔夫，则看着他，为他悲伤，但脸上没表露出来，而是礼节性地跟他聊海流，他们放线钓鱼的深度，还有就是持续的好天气以及他们的见闻。那天满载而归的渔夫们早已回来，已经把马林鱼剖好了，长长地摆满了两张木板，一头两人抬着，摇摇晃晃地往鱼库里送，那里会有装着冰块的卡车把鱼运到哈瓦那。捕到鲨鱼的早已把鱼送到小海湾另一端的鲨鱼加工厂去了。在那儿，工人们把鲨鱼用滑轮组吊起来，除去肝脏，砍掉鱼翅，剥去鱼皮，把鱼肉切成条腌起来。

东风起的时候，来自鲨鱼加工厂的气味会越过港口飘过来；但是今天很淡，只是隐约可闻，因为风向先是转北，然后又停了。露台上空气宜人，阳光和煦。

“圣地亚哥，”男孩说。

“嗯，”老人应道。他正拿着酒杯，想着很多年前的事。

“我能出去给你弄点明天要用的沙丁鱼吗？”

“别。去打棒球吧。我还可以自己划船，罗奇里奥会帮我撒网的。”

“我想去。既然不能和你一起打渔，我总该帮你做点事啊。”

“你不是请我喝啤酒了嘛，”老人说，“你已经很仗义了”。

“你第一次带我出海的时候我多大呢？”

“五岁，你当时差点丢了小命呢，我把鱼扯上来的时候太早，结果他几乎要把船给撞碎了。还记得吗？”

“我记得鱼尾巴噼啪噼啪地拍打着，快把座板给打破了，还有棍子打鱼的声音。你把我扔到船头，那里盘放着湿辘辘的渔线，我感到整条船都在抖。你用棍子打他的声音就像在砍树，我身上到处都是甜丝丝的血腥味。”

“这些你都记得吗？还是我曾经告诉过你呢？”

“从咱们第一次一起打渔的时候我就什么都记得。”

老人看着他，那双被太阳灼伤的眼睛里充满了信任和慈爱。

“你要是我的儿子，我就带你去赌一把了”，他说，“但你是你爸爸妈妈的孩子，而且你现在是在一条幸运船上。”

“我去给你弄点沙丁鱼好吗？我还知道哪儿能找到四只鱼饵。”

“我今天还有剩的呢，都放在盒子里腌起来了。”

“让我去弄四只新鲜的吧。”

“一只吧，”老人说。他的希望与自信从未消失，而如今则如微风泛起一般鲜活了。

“两只，”男孩说。

“那就两只吧，”老人同意了，“不是你偷的吧？”

“我想偷呢，”男孩答道，“但这些可是我买的。”

“谢谢你，”老人说。他是个头脑简单的人，根本不会想自己什么时候变得这样谦卑了。但他明白自己已经变得很谦卑了，而这并不丢脸，也无损于真正的自尊心。“看这洋流的样子，明天是个好日子呢”，他说。

“那你准备去哪儿呢？”孩子问。

“很远的地方。等到风向转了，我再回来。我想在天没亮之前就出发。”

“那我会想办法让他出远海，”男孩说，“这样你要是真钓到了大鱼，我们可以去帮你的忙。”

“他不会愿意出远海的。”

“他是不愿意，”男孩说，“但我能看到他看不见的东西，比如一只正在捕鱼的鸟，我就让他赶去追海豚。”

“他的眼力这么差吗？”

“几乎跟瞎了一样。”

“这可怪了，”老人说，“他从没捕过海龟，那才是真伤眼力呢。”

“但是你在蚊子海岸外海捕龟那么多年，你的眼力还是那么好呢。”

“我是奇人啊。”

“但是你现在还有那么大的力气捕真正的大鱼吗？”

“我想没问题。再说还有很多诀窍呢。”

“咱们把东西带回家吧，”孩子说，“这样我好去拿网，搞沙丁鱼去”。

他们从船上拿起渔具。老人肩上扛着桅杆，男孩抱着装有编织得紧密的棕褐色卷线的木箱子、短鱼叉和带杆子的长鱼叉。盛鱼饵的盒子被放在船尾的仓底，跟一根木棒放在一起，大鱼被拉到船侧时就用这棒把它打晕。虽然没人会来偷老人的东西，但最好把帆和粗索带回家，因为露水会对他们有害，老人虽然很清楚当地人决不会偷他的东西，但是觉得没必要把长短鱼叉留在船上，引人动念头。

他们顺着路一直走到老人的小屋，从敞开的门进去。老人把裹着帆的桅杆竖在墙边，男孩把箱子和其他的渔具放在它旁边。这桅杆几乎跟小屋的一个单间一般长。小屋是用王棕的坚硬苞壳搭建的，这种苞壳有个名字叫做“海鸟粪”。屋里有一张床、一张桌子、一把椅子，泥地上一块烧木炭煮饭的地方。用压平的结实“海鸟粪”交叠铺就的褐色墙壁上，有一幅彩色的耶稣圣心像，和一幅圣母像。这些都是他妻子的遗物。以前墙上还有一张他妻子的着色照片，但是老人后来把它取下来了，因为看到这照片让他感到太过孤单。照片如今在墙角的架子上，放在他的一件干净衬衫下面。

“你有什么吃的东西吗？”男孩问。

“一罐黄米饭煮鱼。你要吃点吗？”

“不了，我呆会儿回家吃。要我帮你生火吗？”

“不用。过会儿我再生，也许我就吃冷米饭好了。”

“我能把渔网拿去吗？”

“当然可以。”

其实并没有什么渔网，孩子还记得他们把渔网给卖掉的时候。但是他们每天都要扯一番这样的谎话。男孩也知道，屋里也没有那么一罐黄米饭和鱼。

“八十五是个吉利数，”老人说，“你想不想见我捕一条重一千多磅的大鱼回来呢？”

“我去拿渔网捕沙丁鱼了。你要不坐在门边晒太阳吧？”

“好的。我这儿还有昨天的报纸，我来看看棒球赛的消息。”

男孩并不知道关于昨天的报纸是否也是虚构的。但是老人却从床下拿出一张报纸来。

“伯里克利在杂货店给我的，”他解释道。

“我一弄到沙丁鱼就回来。我会把咱俩的鱼放一起用冰镇着，那早上就可以分着用了。我回来了你就告诉我关于棒球赛的消息。”

“洋基队可不会输。”

“但我担心克里夫兰的印第安人队会赢。”

“孩子，要对洋基队有信心啊，想想那了不起的迪马尼奥吧。”

“我既担心底特律的老虎队，又担心克里夫兰的印第安人队。”

“当心点，不然你连辛辛那提红队和芝加哥白袜队都会担心了。”

“你好好研究研究，等我回来再讲给我听。”

“你看咱们要不要去买张尾数是八十五的彩票呢？明天可是第八十五天了。”

“行啊，”孩子说，“但你上次创下的伟大记录是八十七天，那要怎么办呢？”

“同样的事可不会发生两次。你看你能弄张尾号是八十五的彩票吗？”

“我可以订一张。”

“那就订一张。这得花两块半。咱们向谁能借到这笔钱呢？”

“这个容易。我总能借到两块半的。”

“我看没准儿我也能借到。但我总尽量不去借。先是借钱，后来可就是乞讨了。”

“穿暖和点，老爷子”，男孩说，“别忘了，现在可是九月份呢。”

“这正是大鱼出现的月份，”老人说，“五月份的时候，人人都能成为渔夫。”

“我现在去弄点沙丁鱼了，”男孩说。

男孩回来的时候，老人在椅子里熟睡着，夕阳已经下山了。孩子从床上拿起一张旧军毯，铺在椅背上，盖住老人的肩膀。这两只肩膀挺怪，虽然人已经年迈，肩膀却依旧很结实。老人的脖子也很壮实，而且老人熟睡的时候，他的头往前耷拉着，脖子上的皱纹也不太明显了。他的衬衫打了很多补丁，如今就像那帆一样了，补丁被太阳晒得褪色成很多深浅不同的颜色。老人的头却显得格外衰老，当他闭上眼睛的时候，整张脸便毫无生气了。报纸摊在他的膝盖上，晚风中，靠他一只手臂压着才没被吹走。老人光着脚。

男孩把他留在那儿走了，等他回来的时候，老人还在熟睡着。

“老爷子，该醒了，”男孩说着，一只手搭在老人的膝上。

老人睁开眼，过了一会儿，仿佛是从很远很远的地方回来了。然后笑了。

“你弄了些什么回来了？”老人问。

“晚饭，”孩子说，“咱们吃晚饭吧”。

“我还不太饿。”

“来吃吧。你可不能只打渔不吃饭。”

“我这么干过，”老人站起身，把报纸拿起来折好。接着他开始动手折毯子。

“把毯子披着吧，”男孩说，“只要我活一天，你就不能不吃饭就去打渔。”

“那你该长命百岁才成，好好照顾自己，”老人说，“咱们吃什么呢？”

“黑豆、米饭、炸香蕉，还有一些炖肉。”

这些都是男孩从露台饭店里用一只双层金属饭盒装着带回来的。他的口袋里还有两副刀叉和汤匙，每一副都用餐巾纸包着。

“谁给你的？”

“马丁。那个老板。”

“那我得谢谢他。”

“我都谢过了，”孩子说，“你就不用再跟他道谢了。”

“我要把捕到的大鱼鱼肚子上的那块肉给他，”老人说，“他这样帮咱们可不只一两次了吧？”

“我想是的。”

“那我除了给他鱼肚子肉，还得送点别的。他对咱们可真关心。”

“他还送了两瓶啤酒呢。”

“我最喜欢罐装的啤酒了。”

“我知道。但这是瓶装的，阿图埃啤酒，喝完我还得把瓶子送回去。”

“你可真好，”老人说，“那咱们吃饭吧？”

“我一直叫你吃呢，”孩子温和地说，“不等你准备好，我可不想把饭盒打开。”

“我准备好了，”老人说，“只要洗洗手就行了”。

你上哪儿洗手呢？男孩心想。小镇的供水处和这儿还隔着两条街呢。我该把水带到这儿让他用的，孩子想，还有肥皂和一条干净的毛巾。我怎么那么粗心呢？冬天来了，我得给他弄件衬衫和夹克衫，还要弄双什么鞋子，再添条毯子才好过冬。

“这炖肉很好吃，”老人说。

“跟我讲讲棒球赛吧，”男孩问他。

“在美国职业联盟里，像我说的就只有洋基队值得一提了，”老人兴高采烈地说。

“他们今天输了啊，”男孩告诉他。

“那没什么。了不起的迪马吉奥又恢复本色啦。”

“但队里还有其他队员呢。”

“是不错。但有他就不一样了。其他的职业联盟，比如在布鲁克林和费城之间，我就会选布鲁克林。当然我不会忘记迪克·西斯勒在老公园里打出的那些好球。”

“那些好球从没人打过。他击过我见过的最长的球。”

“你记不记得他过去常来露台饭店？我本想带他一起去打渔，但我太腼腆了，没对他开口。后来我让你去问他，而你也太腼腆了。”

“我知道。那可真是个大错误啊。他本可以和咱们一起出海的。那咱们这辈子都有的回味了。”

“我想带了不起的迪马尼奥去打渔，”老人说，“有人说他爹是个渔夫。或许他当初也像咱们一样穷，会理解咱们的心意的。”

“那个伟大的西斯勒的爸爸可从来没过过穷日子，而且他老爸在我这么大年纪的时候就在联赛里打球了。”

“我像你这么大的时候，就在一艘开往非洲的方帆船上当水手了。傍晚的时候，我还在海岸上见到过狮子。”

“我知道。你跟我说过。”

“那咱们是谈非洲还是棒球呢？”

“我觉得还是谈棒球吧，”男孩说，“跟我讲讲那个了不起的约翰J·麦格劳吧，”他把J念成了Jota。

“很久以前他经常来露台饭店。但是一喝酒，他就变得行为粗鲁、说话刻薄、很难应付。他心里总是惦记着马和棒球。至少他的口袋里总装着很多马的名单，他跟人通电话的时候还时常提到马的名字。”

“他是个很棒的经理，”男孩说，“我爸爸认为他是最棒的。”

“那是因为他来这儿的次数最多吧，”老人说，“要是杜罗切每年都来这儿的话，你爸爸就会认为他是最棒的了。”

“说真的，那到底谁是最棒的经理人呢？卢克还是麦克·冈萨雷斯？”

“我认为他们不相上下。”

“而最棒的渔夫可就是你了。”

“不是。我知道还有比我更强的。”

“怎么会呢，”男孩说，“好渔夫很多，也有些顶顶了不起的。但只有你是最好的。”

“谢谢你。你让我很开心。我希望不要出现什么顶大的鱼来证明咱们在胡说八道。”

“你要是像自己说的那么健壮的话就不会有那样的鱼出现。”

“我可能没有自己想象的那么健壮，”老人说，“但是我办法多，决心大啊。”

“你现在该上床睡觉了，这样明天一早你就又生龙活虎了。我来把东西送回露台饭店。”

“那晚安了。我明早叫你起床。”

“你可是我的闹钟呢，”孩子说。

“年纪是我的闹钟，”老人说，“老年人为什么这么早就醒了呢？是想让日子过得长点吗？”

“不知道，”男孩说，“我只知道年轻人睡得沉，起得晚。”

“那我记住了，”老人说，“我会及时叫你起床的。”

“我不喜欢船主人叫我起床，那样感觉我好像比不上他似的。”

“我明白。”

“睡个好觉，老爷子。”

男孩走了。他们吃饭的时候，桌上没点灯，老人脱掉裤子，在黑暗中上床睡觉了。他把裤子卷成个枕头，把报纸塞在里面。老人把自己裹进毯子里，在弹簧床上铺着的另外一些报纸上睡下了。

他很快就睡着了。老人梦到了他年少时所见过的非洲，那里有长长的金色海岸和白得刺眼的海滩，还有高耸的海岬和褐色的大山。每天夜晚，他都梦见那海岸，在睡梦中他听到海浪拍打的声音，看见土人的船只在其间穿行。他睡着时闻到甲板上的焦油味和麻絮味，以及晨风从陆地上刮来的非洲大陆的气息。

通常一嗅到陆地来的风，老人就醒了，起身穿衣去叫男孩起床。但是今晚陆地上刮来的风所带来的气息来得很早，老人在梦里知道时间还太早，于是继续把梦做下去。他看到群岛白色的山峰缓缓地从海里升起，他还梦到了加那利群岛的各个港口和停泊处。

他不再梦见暴风雨，不再梦见女人，不再梦见重大事件，不再梦见大鱼，他的梦境中也不再出现打架、较力，也不再出现他的妻子。他如今只梦见地方以及海岸边的狮子。它们在薄暮中似小猫一般玩耍嬉戏，老人如爱男孩一样爱它们。可他却从没梦见过男孩。他只是那么醒来，朝敞开的门外看了看月亮就把卷起的裤子打开后穿上。他在小屋外小解后就上路去叫男孩起床了。在清晨寒冷的空气中，老人打着哆嗦。但他知道哆嗦一会儿就会暖和了，要不了多久他就可以划船了。

男孩住的房子没锁门，老人推开门，光着脚轻轻地走了进去。男孩在第一间房的一张小床上熟睡着，借着残月散下的月光，老人可以清楚地看见他。他轻轻地握住男孩的一只脚，直到孩子醒过来，扭头看他。老人点点头，男孩便从床边的椅子上拎起他的裤子，坐在床边穿上了。

老人走出门外，男孩跟在后面。孩子还很困，老人伸出胳膊搂着他的肩膀说，“对不起。”

“哪里，”孩子说，“男人就该这么做。”

他们沿路走向老人的小屋。一路上，黑暗中有些光着脚的男人在走动，扛着船上的桅杆。

到达老人的小屋时，男孩拿起装着卷线的篮子，还有鱼叉和鱼钩，老人肩上扛着桅杆和卷起的帆。

“你想喝咖啡吗？”孩子问。

“等咱们把渔具拿到船上再喝点吧。”

他们在清晨专供渔夫早餐的地方用炼乳罐喝咖啡。

“老爷子，昨晚睡得好不好？”男孩问。他现在完全醒了，虽然还睡意犹存。

“睡得很好，曼洛林，”老人说，“我今天可是信心十足。”

“我也是，”男孩说，“我现在得去拿咱们俩用的沙丁鱼，还有你的鱼饵。船主人都是自己带我们的渔具，他从来不让任何人帮忙拿东西。”

“咱们可不同，”老人说，“你五岁的时候我就让你帮忙拿东西了。”

“我知道啊，”男孩说，“我很快就会回来的。再喝点咖啡吧。咱们在这里可以赊账的。”

男孩走开了，他赤脚走在珊瑚岩上，向贮存鱼饵的冰库走去。

老人缓缓地喝着咖啡。这是他一天的饮食，他知道应该把它给喝了。好久以来，吃让他感觉厌烦，他从来都不吃午饭。小船的船尾放着一瓶水，他一天只需要这个就够了。

男孩把沙丁鱼带回来了，还有用报纸包着的两只鱼饵。他们沿着小路走向小船，感觉着脚下的鹅卵石。他们抬起小船，把它滑进水里。

“老伙计，祝你好运。”

“祝你好运，”老人说。他把桨上的绳套圈在桨座的钉上，身子前倾，把船桨深深地插进水里，小船便在黑暗中向港口的远方划去。其他的海滩上也有船只驶向大海，现在月亮沉入了山背后，老人看不见这些船，却能听到船桨伸入水中划动的声音。

偶尔会有人在船上说话。但大多数的船只除了划桨的声音都是寂静无声的。离开港口之后，船只便四散开来，每个人都会划向感觉能捕到鱼的那片海域。老人知道他会划到很远的地方。他将陆地的气息抛在身后，向有着干净的清晨气息的海洋深处划去。他划船到了一处海域，看到了海湾的水草发出的磷光。那里被渔夫们叫做“大井”，因为这块水域突然有七百英寻深，水流冲击海床的陡壁形成了漩涡，使得各种各样的鱼儿聚集在此，包括大量的虾子、小鱼，偶尔会有来自深不可测的水底洞穴里大群的乌贼。这些鱼虾夜里浮游到靠近海面，四处游荡的鱼便以它们为食。

黑暗中，老人能感觉到黎明将近。划船时，他听到了飞鱼飞离水面时的颤抖声，还有它们在黑暗中飞翔时坚硬的翅膀所发出的嘶嘶声。老人非常喜爱飞鱼，它们是他在海洋上主要的朋友。他怜惜鸟儿，尤其是那种小巧而柔弱的黑色燕鸥，它们终日飞翔，寻找食物，却几乎总是一无所获。他想，鸟儿的生活比我们人类的还要艰苦，当然那些靠掠夺为食的鸟类和体型壮硕的大鸟除外。为什么像海燕那样的鸟儿生来便如此纤小柔弱，而海洋却如此残忍？大海是仁慈而美丽的，但她可以变得如此残忍，而且又来得那么突然。那些飞着潜入水中捕食的鸟儿，它们的声音弱小而悲戚。对于海洋来说，它们太过于纤弱了。

他总是把海洋当做“海娘子”，那是西班牙语里人们对海洋的爱称。有时，喜欢海洋的人也会说它坏话，但说这些坏话时总是把它当做女人来说的；有些年轻的渔夫（那些在鱼线上拴浮标当鱼漂，买了摩托艇的年轻人——摩托艇是当年鲨鱼肝很值钱的时候买的）会把它叫做“海郎”，把它当男的看。他们提起她就像是在说一个竞争者，一个地方，甚至是一个敌人。但是老人总是把她当做一个女性，她有时大恩大德，有时啥也不给。如果有时她作出狂野或邪恶的事来，那是因为她无法控制自己。老人想，月亮对海洋有着影响，就如同对一个女人那样。

老人平稳地划着船，这丝毫不费力，因为他保持在自己的速度范围内。海面一片平坦，除了水流偶尔卷起的漩涡。他让水流帮他使了三分之一的力。天快亮时老人发现船划得比自己预期在此刻能达到的位置还要远了。我在“深井”忙了一个星期了，还是一无所获，他想。今天我要找成群的鲣鱼和长鳍金枪鱼出没的地方，也许它们之中有条大鱼跟着呢。

天大亮之前，老人布下了鱼饵，让船随水漂流。一只鱼饵下到四十英寻处，一只在七十五英寻，第三只和第四只分别在深蓝的海水中一百英寻和一百二十五英寻处。每只鱼饵头朝下，钓钩的钩身藏在鱼饵里，绑得结结实实，穿得稳稳当当，钓钩所有突出的部分，包括弯曲的部分和尖端都用新鲜的沙丁鱼包裹住。每只沙丁鱼都被钓钩从双眼穿了过去，它们沿着弧度在突出的鱼钩背上形成了半个花环的样子。钩子上的每个部分都会让大鱼觉得香气四溢，美味可口。

男孩给了他两只新鲜的小金枪鱼，或者叫做长鳍金枪鱼，它们像铅锤，挂在最深的两条鱼线上，在另外的两根线上，他分别挂了已经用过的一只大青鲹和一条黄鳝，但这两只鱼饵依然完好，又有上好的沙丁鱼来增加香味和吸引力。每条钓线都像一根大铅笔那么粗，线的一端被缠在青皮鱼杆上，这样只要鱼饵一被拉动或触碰，鱼杆就会下沉。每条钓线都有两个四十英寻长的卷线，它们可以迅速跟备用的卷线接起来，以便一旦需要，可以放出300寻的线来让鱼拉。

这时老人紧盯着挑在小船一侧的三根鱼杆，观察有没有动静。他轻轻地划着船，保持钓线上下垂直着，停留在合适的深度。天已经很亮了，太阳随时都会升起。

太阳淡淡地从海面升起，老人看到了其他的船只，低低地挨着水面，离海岸不远，顺着水流垂直的方向四散开来。太阳更加明亮了，水面上闪烁着耀眼的光。太阳完全升起时，平坦的水面上反射的光射进他的眼睛里，刺痛了他的双眼，他只顾划船，不朝太阳看。他向水里望去，注视着垂直伸向海底深处的钓线。他把鱼线保持得比任何人的都直，这样在黑暗的湾流的任何一个深度，都会有一只鱼饵在他所希望的位置等着任何游到那里的鱼儿来吃。别的渔夫让鱼饵随水流漂着，有时鱼饵在六十英寻深的时候，渔夫们还以为是在一百英寻呢。

但是他想，我的鱼饵下得多准啊，只是再也交不上好运了。不过谁知道呢？也许今天就转运了呢。每天都是新的一天。那么最好还是交好运吧。但我情愿做得准确。这样运气来的时候我已经准备好了。

两个小时过去了，太阳升得更高了。他往东望去时，眼睛不再感到那么痛了。现在只能看到三只船了，它们显得很低，远远的，靠近海岸。

这一辈子，早晨的阳光总是刺痛我的眼睛，他想，但它们还是那么好使。傍晚时分，我能直接盯着太阳看，眼前也不会发黑。阳光的力量在傍晚更强些，但是早晨的却刺眼。

就在这时，他看到一只长翅膀的黑色军舰鸟在前方的天空盘旋。它斜着后掠的翅膀突然迅速向下俯冲，然后又开始盘旋。

“它一定是逮住了什么东西，”老人说出声来，“他可不光在看着。”

老人缓慢而平稳地向鸟儿盘旋的地方划去。他不慌不忙，保持鱼线上下垂直。但是他把船往洋流中顺了一下，这样就既能保持鱼线位置，又比刚才没准备利用这只鸟儿时行进得更快一些。

鸟儿往空中飞高了一些，又盘旋起来，翅膀一动不动。突然间它一下潜入水中，老人看到飞鱼猛地跃出水面，拼命地往海洋上空掠去。

“海豚，”老人说出声来，“大海豚。”

他把桨搁在一边，从船尾下面拿出一根细钓线。钓线上有鱼线接口和一个中号钓钩，老人拿了一只沙丁鱼钩在上面做饵。他把钓钩抛到船一侧的水中，把上端紧紧地系在船艄的一个环形螺栓上。接着他又在另一根钓线上装上鱼饵，把线卷好放在船尾的阴影里。他又划起船来，望着那只长翅膀的黑鸟低低地飞在水面上觅食。

他看着那鸟儿又再次斜着双翅俯冲到水中，猛烈而又徒劳地拍打着翅膀，追逐着飞鱼。老人看到那些大海豚追赶逃跑的鱼儿时，海面被挤得微微隆起。海豚们在飞鱼身下的水里高速前进，飞鱼落入水里的时候，它们就等在那里了。这可是一大群海豚啊，他想。海豚到处都是，飞鱼很难逃脱。就连那只鸟儿也没机会逮到鱼了。飞鱼对鸟儿来说太大了，而且它们又跑得太快。

他看到飞鱼一次又一次地破水而出，鸟儿一次又一次地徒劳无获。那群鱼已经从我身边游走啦，他想。它们游得太快太远了。但是说不定我能捉到一只掉队的，说不定我的大鱼就在它们附近呢。我的大鱼一定是在什么地方。

陆地上空的云彩这时像山峦一样耸立着，海岸成了一条长长的绿线，背后衬着灰蓝色的小山。海水变成了深蓝色，深得几乎发紫了。向水里望去，老人看到了红色浮游生物在深色的海水里来回穿梭，还有阳光照入水中所产生的奇异的色彩。他看着自己的钓线在水里垂直下沉直到看不见了。老人看到这么多的浮游生物很开心，因为这说明附近有鱼。此时太阳升得更高了，阳光在水中变幻出奇异的色彩，这说明天气不错，陆地上空云朵的形状也说明了这一点。这时鸟儿几乎看不见了，海面上空无一物，只漂浮着几摊被太阳晒得褪了色的黄色马尾藻，一只僧帽水母在船边浮动着，它那凝胶状的气囊发紫，摆出一定的形状，闪现出彩虹般的颜色。它向一边翻个身，然后再翻回来。它像一个泡泡一样高兴地漂浮着，致命的紫色长须在它身后的水里拖出一码那么长。

“水母，”老人说，“你这婊子。”他从轻轻摇桨的地方望下去，看到一些和水母触须一样颜色的小鱼，它们在触须之间和气囊所产生的小阴影下浮游着。它们对水母的毒素免疫。但是人可就不同了，要是老人正把一条鱼拉上来时，假若那紫色触须黏在钓线上，老人的胳膊和手就会灼伤起泡，就像毒葛中毒一样。但是这些水母毒素发作得很快，就像被鞭子抽得一样疼。

这些有着彩虹般颜色的泡泡非常美丽，但是它们是海洋里最具有欺骗性的生物了。老人喜欢看大海龟吞吃它们。海龟一看到它们就先从正面接近，然后再闭上眼睛，这样就可以完全躲在龟壳里把水母连身子带触须全部吃掉。老人喜欢看海龟吃水母，也喜欢在暴风雨后的海滩上用长满老茧的双脚把水母踩破，听那啵的一声响。

他喜欢绿海龟和玳瑁，它们体态优美、速度迅捷、价钱极高，对那些体型庞大、笨手笨脚的红海龟则有一种不怀恶意的蔑视，它们的龟壳是黄色的，做爱的方式很奇怪，高高兴兴地吞吃僧帽水母时总是闭着眼睛。

他对海龟并没有什么神秘的看法，尽管在捕龟船上呆过很多年。他为所有的海龟，甚至有小艇那样长、重达一吨的大海龟都感到难过。大多数人对海龟很麻木，因为海龟被宰杀分切后，心脏还可以跳动几个小时。但是老人心想，我也有和它们一样的心脏，我的手和脚都和它们的很像。吃海龟白色的蛋可以给他力量，而整个五月他都在吃海龟蛋，这样九月和十月去捕真正的大鱼时，就会有足够的力气。

每天他都会在很多渔夫放渔具的小屋里的一只圆桶中舀出一杯鲨鱼肝油来喝。桶就放在那儿，想喝的渔夫都可以去喝。大多数渔夫讨厌那种味道，但这不比清早起床的感觉更糟，而且鲨鱼肝油会有助于预防感冒，对眼睛也好。

这时老人抬头一看，发现鸟儿又在盘旋了。

“它发现鱼了，”他说出声来。并没有飞鱼跃出水面，也没有那种做鱼饵的小鱼四散逃开。但是老人望着望着，看到一条小金枪鱼跃入空中，转了个身，又头朝下掉入水中。在阳光中，金枪鱼银光闪闪，它们一只接一只地四处乱跳，搅得海水翻腾起来，它们长跳着追赶小饵鱼，四面合围驱赶着它们。

它们要不是游得这么快，我可以划到它们中间去，老人想。他眼看着鱼群搅得海水泛着白色的水花，鸟儿这时俯冲下来，扎到水中衔起慌乱中被迫逃到水面上的小饵鱼。

“这鸟儿可真是个好帮手，”老人说。正在这时，他脚下连着船尾的那根钓线突然一紧，他在脚上还缠了一道钓线。他把船桨放下，握紧了鱼线，感觉到小金枪鱼颤抖着拉扯的分量，他开始把它往起拉。他越往船里拉，那种颤抖就越加剧，他能看到水中那条鱼蓝色的脊背和金色的两侧，然后一把拉了上来，鱼越过船侧，甩进了船舱。它躺在洒满阳光的船尾，身体呈子弹形，密实紧凑，睁着一双大而痴呆的眼睛。它那干净灵巧的尾巴迅速甩着，不停地颤巍巍地拍打着船板，直到把生命耗尽。老人出于好意，猛击一下它的头，又踢了一脚。在船艄的阴影里，鱼身还在颤抖。

“长鳍金枪鱼，”他大声说，“做鱼饵可不错啊，总有十磅吧。”

他不记得从何时起，独自一人时开始自言自语了。很久以前他一个人的时候会唱唱歌，有时是在夜里，那时他独自一人在小渔船或是捕龟船上掌舵。大概是男孩离开他，他一个人呆着的时候，开始自言自语了。但他记不太清了。他和男孩一起捕鱼时，除非有必要，通常都不怎么会讲话。他们会在夜里说话，有时碰到坏天气，被暴风雨所困时也会说话。在海上避免不必要的讲话被认为是一种美德，老人也一直这么认为的，并且始终奉行着。但如今他很多次说出声来，因为没有旁人会受到他的打扰。

“要是让别人听到我这么讲话，他们会认为我疯了，”他说出声来，“不过既然我没疯，就不介意他们这么想了。而且有钱人船里会有收音机跟他们讲话，还能听到棒球赛的消息。”

现在可没工夫去想棒球赛了，老人心想。现在只能想着一件事，我生来就是干这个的。那群鱼附近可能有条大鱼跟着，他想。我只逮住了一只吃小鱼时离群的长鳍金枪鱼。它们正在往远处游，游得那么快。今天凡是在海面上露面的都游得很快，是向着东北方向游的。这是不是一天的大好时候？或是有什么我不知道的天气征兆？

他现在已经看不到海岸那一线绿色了，只能看到蓝色的山顶上现出一圈白色，好像覆盖着积雪以及山峦上空如同高耸的雪山一般的云朵。海水的颜色很深，阳光在水中折射出彩虹般的七色。浮游生物身上无数的小斑点，此时由于太阳升到高高的空中已经看不到了。老人只能看到阳光在蓝色的海水中折射出来的巨大的七彩色，他看着钩线垂直沉入一英里处的海里。

金枪鱼又沉入海里了。渔夫们把这种鱼都叫做金枪鱼，只有出售或是拿它们换鱼饵时才会分门别类地叫。阳光此时热辣了起来，老人感到颈后发烫，划船的时候感觉到汗水顺着脊背往下淌。

我可以就这么漂着，他想，睡上那么一觉，只要在脚趾头上缠上钓线就可以了，这样有鱼来就可以叫醒我了。但是今天都第八十五天了，我得好好捕次鱼。

正在这时，老人盯着他的钓线，发现其中一根青皮的鱼杆正猛地下沉。

“来了，”他说，“来了”，他把船桨放下，没让小船颠簸一下。他伸手去拉钓线，轻轻地把线夹在右手的大拇指和食指之间。他还没感觉到线上的拉力或是重量，就轻轻地扯住线。接着线又动了。这次是尝试性地一拉，拉得不紧也不重，他清楚地知道是什么鱼了。一百英寻的水底，一只马林鱼正在吃裹在钓钩和钩身上的沙丁鱼，而手工制作的钓钩则从小金枪鱼的头里钩出来。

老人轻巧地握住线，轻轻地用左手把它从鱼杆上解开。现在他可以让它在指尖滑动，而不让鱼感觉到一点儿牵引力。

离岸那么远的地方，这个月份的鱼一定很大了，他想。吃吧，大鱼。吃吧。请把鱼饵吃了吧。

这些鱼饵多新鲜啊，你在六百英尺的那么冷的黑暗的水里。在黑暗里转一圈，再回来把鱼饵吃了吧。

他感到钓线被轻轻地一扯，接着就是猛地一拉，肯定是沙丁鱼的头很难从钓钩上被扯下来。然后就没有动静了。

“来吧，”老人说出声来。“再转一圈吧。闻闻鱼饵，多香啊！趁新鲜的时候吃吧，吃完还有金枪鱼呢。又硬又凉，美味可口。别害羞，鱼儿。快吃吧。”

他把线夹在拇指和食指之间等着，仔细盯着这根线，同时又注意着其他几根。鱼儿很有可能上下游动呢。接着，钓线又被同样轻巧地扯了一下。

“它要吃啦，”老人说出声来，“上帝保佑他吃饵吧。”

可它终究没有吃。大鱼游走了，老人什么动静都感觉不到了。

“它不可能游走了，”他说，“耶稣知道它不可能游走了。它肯定是转了个圈。可能它从前被钩住过，现在还有点儿记得。”

接着他感到钓线被轻轻地碰了一下，老人很高兴。

“它刚才不过是在转身，”他说，“它会吃鱼饵的。”

他很高兴感觉到钓线正被轻轻地扯着，接着突然被猛地一拉，很有分量，令人难以置信。这正是大鱼的重量，他让线一直溜下去，溜啊溜，同时解开了两个备用卷线的第一卷。线在老人的指间轻轻地往下滑，他依然能感觉到大鱼巨大的重量，尽管他的拇指和食指之间施加的压力已经微乎其微了。

“好大的一条鱼啊，”他说，“鱼饵横在它嘴里，它现在正衔着它走呢。”

然后它会转身把鱼饵给吞下去的，他想。他没把这话说出来，因为老人知道一件好事若是说了出来，就可能不会发生了。他知道这是一条很大的鱼，想着这鱼正在黑暗里游走，嘴里横衔着金枪鱼。就在这时，他感到大鱼不再游了，但线上的重量还在。接着重量增加了，老人把线放得更长。他一时加大了拇指和食指间压力，重量又增加了，而且还在直直地往下坠。

“上钩了，”他说，“现在我要让他好好吃一顿。”

他让线从指间滑下去，同时伸出左手把两个备用卷线的一端紧紧系在另一根钓线的两个备用卷线的环上。现在他准备好了。他如今有三个四十英寻长的备用卷线了，加上他现在正在用的这根线。

“再多吃一点，”他说，“好好吃一顿。”

把鱼饵吃下去，这样钓钩的尖儿就会刺进你的心脏，要你的命，他想。乖乖地浮上来，让我把鱼叉刺进你的身体里。好的，你准备好了吗？你吃饭的时间够长了吧？

“来吧！”他说出声来，双手猛拉钩线，扯上来一码的线，然后双臂交替不停地用力往上拉，他使出了全身的劲，以身体的重量作为支撑。

一切都是徒劳。大鱼只是慢慢地游开，老人哪怕把它拽上来一英尺也办不到。他的钓线很结实，是专门用来捉大鱼的。他把线横跨在背上使劲拉，直到钓线绷得太紧，水珠从中迸溅出来。接着水里开始发出缓慢的咝咝声，老人依旧攥着钓线，身体死命地抵住座板，仰着往后靠，以抵消钓线所带来的拉力。小船开始缓缓地朝西北方向驶去。

大鱼平稳地游着，老人和它在平静的水面上缓慢地前行。其他的鱼饵还在水里，但是已经无暇顾及了。

“我真希望那孩子在我身边”，老人说出声来，“我正被一只鱼拖着，我就是那栓钓线的柱子。我可以把线再收紧点儿。但要是那样的话，大鱼会把线扯断的。我必须全力扯住它，必要的时候把线放出去。感谢上帝这大鱼是在往前游，而不是往下游。”

他要是决心往下游，我可不知道怎么办了。他要是潜入海底，死在那儿了，我也不知道怎么办了。但我得做点什么。我能做的事还有很多。

他用背扛着线，看着它斜在水中，而小船则平稳地朝西北方向驶去。

这会要了它的命，老人心想。它总不能一直这么拖着吧。但是四个小时过去了，大鱼依然拖着小船平稳地往外海游去，钓线还是紧紧地扛在老人背上。

“我钩住它的时候是中午，”他说，“可我一直没见着它。”

钓到大鱼之前老人把草帽紧紧地扣在头上，如今草帽却把他的脑门勒得生疼。他也觉得口渴，于是双膝跪了下来，小心翼翼地不去扯动钓线，一直挪步到船尾，再用一只手够到了水瓶。他打开水瓶，喝了一点儿。然后他靠着船尾歇了一会儿。他坐在从桅座上拔下的桅杆和帆上面，尽量什么都不想，忍受着这一切。

他往身后望去，再也看不到任何陆地。这没什么关系，他心想。我总可以靠哈瓦那的灯火指引着回去的。日落前还有两个多小时，也许在此之前大鱼会上来的。若是那个时候还没上来，也许会随着月亮一起浮上来的。再不然就随着日出一起浮出来吧。我的肌肉还没抽筋，我感觉很有力气。嘴里有钓钩的可是它啊。但是把钓线拉成这样的是怎样的一条大鱼啊。它肯定是嘴巴紧咬着线的。我真希望能看到他。只要一眼就好，让我知道跟我对抗的到底是谁。

大鱼一整夜都没有改变行程和方向，老人根据天上的星星可以辨识出来。太阳落山后，空气变冷了，老人身上的汗都干了，冷冷地贴在脊背、手臂和衰老的双腿上。白天的时候他把盖在鱼饵盒上的袋子拿出来，铺在太阳下晒干。太阳落山后他把袋子系在脖子上，披在背上，并且小心地把它挪到背上的那根钓线的下面。袋子垫在钓线下面，他可以前倾靠着船头，这样舒服些。这种姿势其实只不过是不那么难受了，但他却认为已经很舒服了。

我拿它没办法，但它也拿我没办法，他想。只要双方都这么撑着，谁也不能拿谁怎么着。

有一回他站起身来，在小船的一侧朝海里撒了泡尿。他抬头看了下星斗，核对他的航向。钓线从他的肩上直伸进水里，像一道闪闪发亮的磷光。他们现在行进得更缓慢了，来自哈瓦那的灯火不那么明亮了，于是他知道水流定是把他们带向了东方。如果我看不到哈瓦那耀眼的灯火了，那我们肯定是到了更东的地方，他想。要是大鱼的航向一直不变的话，我还能好几个钟头都看得到这灯火呢。不知道今天的棒球大联赛打得怎么样了，他想。要是有个收音机就好了。接着他想，别总惦记着这事儿，想想你现在在做的事吧，可不能做蠢事啊。然后他说出声来，“我真希望男孩在我身边，这样他就能帮我的忙，还能看到现在的情形。”

任何人年老的时候都不应该独自一人，他想。但这是不可避免的。我可得记住在金枪鱼坏掉之前把它吃了，这样才能保持体力。记住，不管你多么不想吃，也得在早上把它吃掉。记住啊，他对自己说。

夜里有两只鼠海豚游到船边，老人能听得到它们在水里翻腾和喷水的声音。他能辨识出雄鼠海豚的喷水声，和雌鼠海豚的叹息声。“它们好啊，”他说，“它们一起玩耍、嬉戏、相亲相爱。它们和飞鱼一样是我们的好兄弟。”

接着他开始同情起他钓到的这条大鱼了。这鱼如此奇妙、特别，不知道它有多大年纪了，他想。我可从来没有遇到过这么强壮的大鱼，也没见过哪条鱼行动这么奇特。也许它太聪明了，所以不跳出来。它只要一跳或者往前急冲就可以让我完蛋。但有可能它被钩住很多次了，所以知道这样才是它应战的方法。它可不知道只有一个人在对抗它，而且还是个老头子。但这是条多大的鱼啊，要是鱼肉上好的话，不知道能在市场里卖多大一笔钱呢。它咬饵的时候像条雄鱼，拉扯钓线的时候也像条雄鱼，它应战的时候丝毫没有慌乱。天知道它有没有什么打算，还是和我一样在玩命呢？

他记得有一次他钓上了一对马林鱼中的一条。遇到吃的雄鱼总是让雌鱼先吃，雌鱼上钩后慌乱、狂躁、拼命地挣扎，很快筋疲力尽，而雄鱼自始至终都陪着它，对着钓线往来穿梭，陪着雌鱼在水面上打圈子。那雄鱼离得太近了，老人担心它会用像大镰刀一样锋利的尾巴把钓线割断，那尾巴的大小和形状都像把大镰刀。老人用鱼钩把雌鱼叉住，用棍子打它，抓住它的长嘴狠劲打它的头，那嘴像把细剑，边沿粗糙得像砂纸，鱼头被打成了镜子背面的绛色。接着，男孩帮助把雌鱼吊上了船，而雄鱼一直待在船边。当老人清理钓线，整理鱼钩的时候，那条雄鱼突然从船边高高地跃上空中，去看雌鱼在哪里。然后落下去，潜入深深的水底，他那淡紫色的双翼，也就是它的胸鳍，大大地张开，露出了身上所有的淡紫色的宽条纹。它非常美丽，老人记得，它一直待在那儿不走。

这是我在它们身上见过的最悲伤的事，老人心想。男孩也很伤心，我们乞求雌鱼的宽恕，迅速地把她宰了。

“我真希望男孩能在这儿，”他说出声来，边把身子靠在船尾被磨圆的船板上。从他肩上的钓线，老人感觉着大鱼的力量，它正朝它选择的方向平稳地前行着。

它一旦中了我的圈套，就不得不作出选择了。老人心想。

它的选择是待在幽深黑暗的海水里，远离所有的陷阱、圈套和阴谋。我的选择就是到所有人都未到过的地方去逮住它。世界上所有的人都未去过的地方。现在我们被连在一起了，从中午开始就如此。没有人来帮助我们中的任何一个。

也许我不该做个渔夫，他想。但是我生来就是干这行的。我一定得记得在天亮之前把金枪鱼给吃了。

拂晓前，有个东西咬住了他身后的鱼饵。他听到鱼杆折断的声音，钓线开始越过船舷急速地往外滑去。黑暗中，他抽出鞘里的刀，用左肩承受了大鱼带来的所有的压力，身子往后靠，就着船舷砍断了钓线。接着他砍断了离他最近的那根钓线，摸黑把两卷备用线圈松的两头系在一起。他灵巧地用一只手做着这些事，把结打牢时，一只脚踩住线圈，免得移动。如今他有六卷备用线圈了。刚才砍断的钓线上各有两个线圈，被大鱼咬住鱼饵的那根钓线上也有两个，现在所有的线圈都连在一起了。

他想，天亮以后我得回头把那个鱼饵放在四十英寻深处的钓线也砍断，把剩余的卷线都连在一起。我会损失两百英寻长的上好的卡塔卢尼亚钓线、钓钩和鱼线扣。这些还可以再配，但要是我钩上了其他的鱼，而把这条大鱼给弄丢了，那怎么补得回来呢？我不知道刚才咬饵的是什么鱼。也许是条马林鱼，或者剑旗鱼，或者是条鲨鱼。我还没来得及判断。我得尽快把它处理掉。他说出声来，“我真希望男孩能在我身边。”

但是男孩并不在你身边，他想。你只有自己一个人，最好回到最后那根钓线那儿，不管天黑不黑，把钓线砍断，连上剩余的两卷线圈。

他就这么做了。摸黑做事情很困难，有一次大鱼猛地一冲，把他脸朝下拽倒在地，眼睛下面划破了一道口子。血顺着面颊淌了下来，但是还没流到下巴的时候就凝固干掉了。老人重新回到船尾，靠在木头上休息。他把袋子调整好，小心翼翼地把肩上的钓线挪到一个新位置，用肩膀把线固定住，他谨慎地感觉着大鱼的拉力，用手感觉着小船在水中航行的情况。

不知道这鱼为什么刚才乱动了一下，他想。钓线肯定是在它山一样的脊背上滑了一下。它的脊背当然没有我的那么疼痛。但它不可能把小船永远拖着，不管它力气有多大。现在一切惹麻烦的东西都清理掉了，我还有一大卷线，一个人能要求的也就这么多了。

“鱼儿，”他轻轻地说出声来，“我会一直和你在一起，直到我死。”

我觉得它也会一直陪着我的，老人心想，一边等待着黎明的到来。破晓之前的这段时间很冷，他紧贴着木头保暖。它能撑多久，我就能撑多久，他想。在第一道晨光中，钓线从小船外延伸出去，直直地进入到水里。小船平稳地前行。太阳露出一角时，钓线正在老人的右肩头上。

“它在朝北游呢，”老人说。水流会把我们远远地带向东方，他想。我希望它能随着水流拐个弯。这说明它渐渐疲倦了。

太阳升起后，老人发现大鱼并未疲倦。如今有的只是一个好兆头。钓线的倾斜度显示大鱼潜水的深度不如以前了。这并不意味着它一定会跳出来。但也有可能。

“上帝让它跳出来吧，”老人说，“我有足够的线来对付它。”

也许我把钓线稍微拉紧一点儿，大鱼感觉到疼痛就会跳出来了，他想。反正现在是白天了，就让他跳吧，这样它沿着脊背的气囊里就会充满空气，它就不会沉到海里去死了。

他试着把钓线拉紧一点儿，但是自从鱼上钩以来，钓线已经绷得快断了，他往后仰着一拉，发现钓线紧梆梆的，他知道不能再用力拉紧了。我千万不能用力一扯，他想。每扯一下，钓钩在大鱼身上的伤口就会被拉大一些，那么它若是跳了起来，有可能把鱼钩给甩掉。不管怎样，太阳出来了，我感觉好多了，至少这次我不用盯着太阳看了。

钓线上缠上了一些黄色的水草，但是老人知道这只会给鱼增加额外的拉力，所以他很高兴。正是这种黄色的海湾水草在夜晚发出闪闪的磷光。

“鱼儿，”他说，“我爱你，而且非常敬重你。但是今天结束前我会杀了你。”但愿如此，他想。

一只小鸟从北边向小船飞来。那是一只鸣鸟，低低地掠过水面。老人看得出它非常疲倦。

鸟儿飞到船艄，停在那儿休息。然后它绕着老人的头飞了一圈，停在了钓线上，那儿它觉得更舒服些。

“你多大了？”老人问它。“这是你第一次出门吗？”

老人讲话的时候，鸟儿看着他。它太累了，也没有细看这钓线。它用那灵巧的双脚紧紧抓住钓线，在上面晃来晃去。

“这线稳着呢，”老人告诉它。“稳得很。这样一个无风的夜里，你不该这么疲倦啊。你们鸟儿都打算做什么呢？”

他想，老鹰会到大海上来捉小鸟的。但他没有说给鸟儿听，反正它也听不懂，而且它很快就会知道老鹰的厉害了。“好好休息，小鸟，”他说。“然后出发去碰碰运气，像任何人，鸟儿或鱼一样。”

他讲话来给自己鼓劲，因为夜晚他的背已经僵直了，而且现在疼得厉害。

“你要是愿意的话就待在我家吧，鸟儿，”他说，“很抱歉，我不能趁着这点小风把帆升起来，好把你带回去。但我总算有个朋友了。”

正在这时大鱼又猛地一扯，一下把老人拉倒在船头上。要不是他抓得紧，又放出了一些线，早就被拖到海里去了。

钓线猛地一扯的时候，鸟儿飞了起来。老人甚至都没来得及看它飞走。他用右手小心地感觉着钓线的动静，发现手在流血。

“这鱼被什么东西弄痛了吧”，他说出声来，把钓线往回拉，看能不能让鱼转回来。但是线快要被拉断的时候，他稳住了自己，往后靠着来对抗线的拉力。

“现在觉得疼了吧，鱼儿，”他说，“上帝知道，我也一样疼。”

他四处张望寻找那只鸟儿，因为老人喜欢那鸟儿给他做伴。但是小鸟已经飞走了。

你可没待多久啊，老人心想。但是在你上岸之前，你飞去的地方都比这儿艰险。我怎么能让大鱼猛地一拉，划破我的手？我肯定是越来越笨了。也许我正看着那只鸟儿，只顾想着它呢。现在我可得集中精力地做事了，我必须把金枪鱼吃了，这样才不会没力气。

“我希望男孩在这儿，希望手边有些盐，”他说出声来。

他把钓线的重量转移到左肩，小心地跪下来，伸手在海水里清洗，他把手在水里浸了一分多钟，看着血丝慢慢地漂走，海水随着船的前行在他的手上拍打着。

“它游得慢多了，”他说。

老人还想把手在水里多浸一会儿，但他担心大鱼又会突然乱动，于是站起身来，稳住身子，举起那只手，朝着太阳。不过是钓线勒了一下，把肉割破了。不过这正是他工作最用得着的地方。他知道在这件事结束之前他还需要这双手，不喜欢没开始前就把手给割破了。

“现在呢，”看到手晒干了，他说，“我必须得吃掉小金枪鱼了。我用鱼钩能够到它，然后在这儿舒舒服服地吃。”

他跪下来，用鱼钩在船头下面戳到了金枪鱼，小心不让它碰到卷线，把它钩了过来。他再次把钓线换到了左肩，左手和左胳膊支撑着身体，从鱼钩上取下金枪鱼，又把鱼钩放回原处。他用一只膝盖压着鱼，从鱼头到鱼尾割下一条条暗红色的鱼肉。这些鱼肉有着楔形的断面，他顺着脊骨开始割，割到鱼肚子边，共六条鱼肉。老人把鱼肉平铺在船头的木板上，在裤子上擦干净刀子，拎起鱼尾巴，把鱼骨头丢进海里。

“我觉得吃不下一整条鱼，”他说着，在鱼条上横切了一刀。他能感觉到大鱼一直在稳稳地紧拉着钓线，他的左手抽筋了，僵硬地握着粗重的钓线，他厌恶地看着这只手。

“这到底是什么手啊，”他说，“抽你的筋去吧。最好抽成一只爪子。可这对你没什么好处。”

快点，他心想，望着斜在黑黢黢的水里的钓线。现在快把它吃了吧，这样手才会有力气。这可不是手的错，你都跟这鱼耗了好几个钟头了。但你会一直跟它耗下去的。快把金枪鱼吃了吧。

他拿起一片鱼，放进嘴里慢慢地咀嚼着。味道还不坏。好好地咀嚼，他想，把汁儿都咽下去。要是再加上一点酸橙，或者柠檬，或者盐，那味道可不坏。

“你感觉怎么样了，手啊？”他问那只僵直得像死尸一样的手。“我会为你多吃点的。”他吃了切成两半的鱼肉的另一半，在嘴里仔细地咀嚼着，然后把鱼皮吐了出来。

“怎么样了，手啊？是不是现在还答不上来？”他又拿起一整块嚼了起来。

“这可是条强壮而血气旺盛的鱼，”他想。“我真幸运逮到了它，而不是海豚。海豚肉太甜了。这条鱼一点都不甜，还保留了所有的元气呢。”

还是讲究实际最有用，他想。我希望能有点盐就好了。我还不清楚太阳会不会让剩下的鱼肉变味或是变干，所以我最好还是全吃了，尽管我不饿。大鱼现在安静又平稳。我会把鱼肉都吃了，这样就准备充分了。

“耐心点，手啊，”他说，“我可是为了你在吃啊。”

我希望能喂大鱼吃点东西，他想。它是我的兄弟。但我必须得保持体力，然后宰了它。他认真而又慢悠悠地把全部的楔形鱼条都吃了。

他挺直了腰，手往裤子上擦了擦。“现在呢，”他说，“手啊，你可以放开钓线了，我只用右胳膊来对付它，直到你不再胡闹了。”他左脚踩着先前左手握着的钓线，身子往后倒，用背抵住来自钓线的拉力。

“上帝帮帮我，让我别再抽筋了，”他说，“因为我不知道大鱼还要怎么样。”

但是大鱼仿佛很冷静，他想，而且正在按计划行动。但是它打的什么主意呢，他想，我的计划又是什么呢？我的计划就是见机行事，因为它实在太大了。要是它跳出来，我就宰了它。但是它却一直潜在水底不出来。那我只能奉陪到底了。

他把抽筋的手往裤子上擦擦，试图让手指松动松动，但手指却分不开了。也许太阳出来了就能分开了，他想。也许等我把那条强壮的生金枪鱼消化了，手指就能分开了。如果我非得需要这只手，我会把手指分开的，无论付出什么代价。但我现在可不想强来。就让它自己张开，自动恢复吧。夜里为了解开那几根钓线，我毕竟让它受苦了。

他往海面上望去，意识到自己是多么孤单。但是他可以看到幽暗的海水深处彩虹般的七色，前方延伸的钓线以及平静的海面上奇特的波动。由于信风的吹拂，云朵开始聚集起来。他往前方望去，一群野鸭正从海面上空飞过，它们的身影在天空的映衬下显得格外清晰，一会儿这身影模糊起来，然后又变得清晰。他认识到，在海上没有人是真正孤单的。

他想起有些人在小船上看不见陆地时，会感到恐惧，这种感觉在天气突变的那几个月是可以理解的。但是如今正是刮飓风的月份，在这些日子里，没有飓风的天气是一年中最好的。

飓风来临时，如果人在海上，总是可以提前几天在天空中看见些预兆。人们在陆地上往往看不到，因为他们不知道应该观察什么，他想。陆地也造成了云朵形状的不同吧。但是眼下不会刮飓风的。

他望着天空，白色的积云堆积起来，像是一层层美味的冰激凌，而在高高的上空，九月的天空映衬着稀疏羽毛状的卷云。

“轻微东北风，”他说，“这种天气对我来说比对你要有利啊，鱼儿。”

他的左手仍在抽筋，但是他正慢慢地把手指张开。

我讨厌抽筋，他想。这是对自己身体的背叛。由于食物中毒而腹泻或者呕吐是在别人面前丢人。但是抽筋（他认为是痉挛），是在自己面前丢人，尤其是一个人独处时。

要是男孩在这儿，他会帮我揉揉的，从前臂往下揉松，他想。但是它自己会松开的。

然后，他的右手感觉到钓线的拉力和之前有所不同，接着他看到了水中斜线的变化。老人紧靠着钓线，左手重重地快速拍打自己的大腿，这时他发现斜着的线在慢慢上升。

“它要上来啦，”他说，“手，快松开。快松开吧。”

钓线缓慢而又平稳地上升，接着小船前方海面隆起来，大鱼出来了。它不停地往上冒，海水从它身上往两边倾泻。阳光下的大鱼非常光亮，它的头部和背部呈暗紫色，身子两侧的条纹在太阳下显得宽阔，带着淡紫色。它那如棒球棒一样长的尖嘴像一把细剑，它全身都从水里露出来，然后又平滑地像个潜水员一样潜入水中。老人看到它大镰刀一般的尾巴游进水里，钓线开始迅速往外滑。

“它比这只船还要长两英尺，”老人说。钓线又快又稳地往外滑，大鱼并没有惊慌失措。在不把钓线扯断的范围内，老人尽力用双手拉住钓线。他知道如果不能持续施加压力稳住大鱼，它就会扯走的线，然后绷断它。

它是一条了不起的大鱼，我一定得把它制服，他想。我千万不能让它知道它的力气有多大，也不能让它知道要是拼命逃跑会把我害成什么样子。我要是它的话，现在肯定使出全身的力气一直往前冲，直到把什么东西都绷断为止。但是，感谢上帝，这些鱼儿可不如我们这些宰杀它们的人聪明，尽管它们比我们要更高贵、更能干。

老人曾经见过很多大鱼。他见过重达一千多磅的鱼，这辈子也曾捕到过两条那么大的，但都不是独自一人。现在他独自一人，在这远离陆地的地方，和他所见过的最大的鱼，这条甚至比他听说过的还要大的鱼紧紧地拴在一起。他的左手依旧蜷着，像紧握的鹰爪。

它总会松开的，他想。左手一定得松开来帮右手的忙啊。这儿有三样东西是兄弟：大鱼和我的双手。它一定得松开，抽着筋它就没用了。大鱼慢了下来，用它通常的速度游着。

不知道它为什么要跳出来，老人心想。它跳出来几乎就像是给我看它有多大。不管怎样，我现在是知道了，他想。我希望能让他看看我是什么样的人。不过这样一来他就会看到我这只抽筋的手了。就让它以为我比实际上更够爷们，那我就会更爷们。我希望自己就是大鱼，他想，用它所有的力量来对抗我的意志和智慧。

他舒服地靠在木头上，忍受着一阵阵袭来的疼痛。大鱼平稳地游着，小船在黑黢黢的海水中缓慢地前行。东方来的风使大海起了一阵小浪，到中午时分，老人的左手不再抽筋了。

“鱼啊，这对你来说可是个坏消息，”他说着，把钓线从搭在他肩头的袋子上挪了一下位置。

他感到很舒服，也很痛苦，尽管他一点也不承认这是痛苦。“我不信教，”他说，“但是只要能捕到这条鱼，我愿意念十遍《天主经》，十遍《圣母经》。而且我发誓，要是捉到它，我一定去考伯圣母那儿朝圣。我发誓。”

他开始机械地祈祷。有时老人太疲倦而忘记了祷告词，他就会快速地念着，这样祷告词就会自动脱口而出了。《圣母经》比《天主经》容易念，他想。“万福玛利亚，满被圣宠者，主与尔偕焉。女中尔为赞美，尔胎子耶稣，并为赞美。天主圣母玛利亚，为我等罪人，今祈天主，及我等死候。阿门。”接着他补充了几句：“万福的圣母，请保佑这条鱼死去吧，尽管它是那么的了不起。”

把祈祷文念完之后，他感觉好多了，但依然和刚才一样疼痛，也许还要疼一些。他靠在船头的木头上，开始机械地活动起左手来。这时阳光很热，虽然微风正在轻柔地吹拂。

“我最好把船尾外的那根钓线重新装上鱼饵，”他说，“如果大鱼决定再跟我耗上一个晚上，我就还得再吃点东西，而且瓶子里的水已经不多了。这里除了海豚，恐怕也捉不到别的什么鱼。但是海豚要是趁新鲜吃，味道也不坏啊。希望今晚能有一只飞鱼飞到船上来。但我这儿没灯光，没法吸引它们。飞鱼生吃的话味道好啊，而且我也不用把它切成一块一块的。我现在必须得保存所有的力气。天啊，我真不知道这鱼有这么大！”

“但我总会宰了它的，”他说，“不管它有多么了不起，有多么神气。”

尽管这并不公平，他想。但我要让它看看人有多大能力，人又有多强的耐力。

“我告诉过男孩我是个不同寻常的老头儿，”他说。“现在就是我要证明这一点的时候了。”

他已经证明过一千次，但这都不算。现在他得再证明一次。每一次都是一次新的开始，而他在证明的时候从未想到过过去。

希望大鱼睡一觉，这样我也能睡一下，好梦见狮子，他想。为什么梦里剩下的主要是狮子？千万别想，老头儿，他对自己说，现在就轻轻地靠在木头上休息会儿吧，什么也不要想。大鱼在忙着呢，你越少费劲越好。

时间已是午后了，小船依旧缓慢而平稳地前行着。但是现在来自东方的微风给船增加了阻力，老人随着小小的海浪缓缓地向前驶去，绳索勒在背部产生的疼痛轻了一些。

下午有一次钓线又开始上浮了。但是大鱼只不过是在略高一点的水位上游而已。太阳晒在老人的左胳膊、左肩膀和背上。于是他知道大鱼转向东北方了。

既然见过大鱼一回了，他能想象得出它在水中游动的样子，那紫色的胸鳍像翅膀般展开，竖直的巨大的尾巴划破黑暗的海水。不知道在那么深的的海底它能看清多少东西，老人心想。它的眼睛大，马的眼睛小多了，在黑暗中还能看清东西呢。我从前在黑暗里视力也很好，当然不是在那种伸手不见五指的黑暗里，但跟一只猫的视力也差不多了。

阳光，加上他不断活动的手指，使抽筋的左手完全恢复了，他开始让左手多使点力，又耸耸背上的肌肉，好把被绳索勒疼的地方挪个位置。

“要是你一点儿都不疲倦，鱼儿，”他说出声来，“你真是怪物。”

他现在感到非常疲倦，他知道黑夜即将来临，于是试着去想想别的事儿。他想到了大联赛，对他来说，这叫做Gran Ligas，而且他知道纽约的洋基队正在对抗底特律的老虎队。

现在已经是第二天了，我还不知道比赛的结果如何，他想。但我必须得有信心，我必须得配得上对迪马尼奥的喜欢。他做一切事都那么完美，即使脚跟里的骨刺痛得要命。骨刺是什么？他问自己。也就是骨头上长的一根刺。我们身上可没有骨刺。它痛起来的时候是不是跟斗鸡脚上的铁刺刺入人的脚跟时的感觉一样？我觉得我可不能忍受那种疼痛，或是像斗鸡一样被啄瞎了一只眼，甚至一双眼还能继续战斗。人和伟大的鸟类和野兽相比真算不上什么。我还是情愿做那只待在漆黑的海水里的动物。

“除非鲨鱼来了，”他说出声来，“要是鲨鱼来了，愿上帝怜悯我和大鱼。”

你认为那了不起的迪马尼奥能守着一条鱼，就像我一样那么长时间地守着这条鱼吗？他想。我相信他会守得更久，因为他那么年轻力壮。而且他父亲也是个渔夫。不过那骨刺会不会让他疼得太厉害？

“我可不知道”，他说出声来，“我从来就没长过骨刺。”

太阳下山了，为了给自己更多的信心，他回想起有一次在卡萨布兰卡的一家酒馆里和一个力气很大的黑人比手劲。那个来自西恩富戈斯的黑人是码头上最强壮的人。他们的胳膊肘压在桌上的粉笔线上，前臂直立着，两手紧握着，就这么相持了一天一夜。两人都试图把对方的手扳倒在桌上。很多人都在下赌注，人们在煤油灯下走进走出，他看着那黑人的胳膊，手臂和脸。在最初的八个小时过后，他们每四个钟头就换一个裁判，这样裁判们才能睡觉。他和黑人的指甲里都渗出血来，他们盯着对方的眼睛，看着手和胳膊，打赌的人们在屋里走进走出，他们靠着墙坐在高脚椅上看这场比赛。木制的墙壁被刷成了明亮的蓝色，灯光把他俩的影子投射在墙上。黑人庞大的身影随着微风吹动那盏灯，在墙壁上一晃一晃的。

整夜里他们不分上下，人们给黑人拿来了朗姆酒，给老人点了烟。黑人喝了朗姆酒，拼命使出劲来，有一次把老人（那个时候还不是老人，而是冠军圣地亚哥）扳下去三英寸。但老人又扳了回来，让两人又势均力敌了。他相信他赢定这个黑人，这黑人很出色，而且还是个了不起的运动员。黎明时分，打赌的人们要求这场比赛算个平局，裁判摇摇头不同意，这时老人使出浑身解数，把黑人的手往下扳，一直按到桌子上。这场比赛从周日早上开始，周一早晨才结束。很多打赌的人要求算平局，因为他们不得不去码头装载一麻袋一麻袋的砂糖，有的人则是为哈瓦那煤炭公司工作。不然所有的人都想让比赛进行到底的。不过不管怎样他都在大家赶去工作之前把比赛给结束了。

打那以后很长一段时间大家都叫他“冠军”，后来春天又举行了一场比赛。但那场比赛打赌的数目不大，他很容易就赢了，因为他在第一场比赛中就打掉了来自西恩富戈斯的那个黑人的自信心。在那之后他又参加了几场比赛，之后就再没有了。他相信只要他一心想赢，就能够打败任何人。他还觉得这对他用来捕鱼的右手有害。他曾经用左手做过几次练习赛，但左手总是背叛他，不能按他的吩咐行事，他不信任它。

太阳现在会把左手烤好的，他想。除非夜里变冷，它是不会再抽筋了。不知道夜里会发生什么事。

一架飞往迈阿密的飞机从他头顶掠过，老人看着飞机的影子把水里成群的飞鱼惊吓了出来。

“有这么多的飞鱼，这附近肯定有海豚，”他说着，手里扯住钓线，身子往后靠，看能不能把大鱼再拉过来一点。但是不能，钓线绷得紧紧地，水珠在上面抖动着，快要绷断了。小船缓慢地前行着，他望着飞机远去，直到看不见为止。

坐在飞机里感觉一定很奇怪，他想。不知道从那样的高度往下看，大海会是什么样子？要是飞得不太高的话，从飞机上应该能看得见鱼的。我想在两百英寻的高度慢慢地飞着，从上面看鱼。在捕海龟的船上，我待在桅杆顶部的桁梁上，在那样的高度我都能看到很多东西。从那里望去，海豚的颜色还要绿些，你还能看到它们身上的条纹和紫色的斑点，还可以看到它们成群地游水。为什么所有在幽深的水流里游得快的鱼都有紫色的脊背，而且通常它们身上还有紫色的条纹和斑点？当然海豚看起来是绿色的，因为它们实际上是金黄色的。但是在它捕食，特别饥饿的时候，身体两侧紫色的条纹就像是马林鱼身上的条纹一样。是因为愤怒，还是游得飞快才把这些条纹显现出来了？

就在天黑之前，他们经过了一大堆累积成小岛似的马尾藻，它们在大海的柔波里轻轻地荡漾，仿佛海洋正和什么东西在一条黄毯子下做爱，这时他的一根细钓线被一只海豚给咬住了。老人第一眼看到它时，它正跃入空中，在夕阳的余晖下一片金黄，它在空中拼命地扭动挣扎。它一次又一次地跃入空中，恐惧得像是在做杂技表演。老人慢慢挪动到了船尾，弯下腰用右手和右胳膊紧握着那条粗线，左手拉扯着海豚，每往回拉上来一段就用光着的左脚踩住钓线。等这只海豚被拉到了船尾，绝望地上蹿下跳，老人在船尾往前探了探身，把这只有着紫色斑点的黄灿灿的鱼拎上了船艄。它对着鱼钩一阵乱咬，下巴抽搐似地打着颤，它那扁长的身体、尾巴和头拍打着船底，直到老人用棍子打它那金光闪闪的脑袋，打得它发抖，最后不动了。

老人从鱼钩上取下这条鱼，重新给钓线装上一条沙丁鱼做鱼饵，然后抛进海里。接着他又慢慢地挪回到船头。他洗了洗左手，在裤子上擦了擦。然后他把沉重的钓线从右手换到了左手，在海水里清洗右手，这时他看着太阳落进了海里以及那根斜着插进水里的粗大的钓线。

“它还是没什么变化，”他说。但是老人望着海水拍打着自己的右手，发现小船明显走得慢了些。

“我要把两只船桨绑在一起横在船尾，这样就可以在夜里减缓它的速度了”，他说，“它擅长熬夜，我也一样。”

最好晚一点儿把海豚开膛破肚，这样就可以让血保留在鱼肉里了，他想。我待会儿再做，眼下先把船桨绑在一起，增加大鱼的阻力。我现在最好让大鱼安静会儿，太阳落山之前不去惊动它。太阳落山对所有的鱼来说都是很难度过的时刻。他把手在空气中晾干，然后用手握住了钓线。老人尽可能地放松，靠在木头上，让大鱼拖着他前进，这样小船就承受了和他一样大，甚至还要大些的拉力。

我渐渐学会该怎么应对了，他想。至少这方面如此。而且别忘了，自从上钩之后它什么都没吃呢，它的体型那么大，需要吃很多食物。我可把一整条鲣鱼都吃了。明天我会吃掉海豚。他把它叫做黄金鱼。也许我把它剖开洗净时就该吃一点。它的肉比鲣鱼要难吃些。但是，毕竟，万事不容易啊。

“你感觉怎么样了，鱼啊？”他问出声来。“我感觉还不错，我的左手已经好些了，而且我还有一天一夜的食物。你拉船吧，鱼儿。”

然而他并不是真的觉得好受，因为横跨在他背上的钓线所造成的疼痛已经疼过了，变成了一种他不太放心的麻痹状态。但我以前经历过比这还糟糕的事，他想。我的手不过是割破了一点，而且另一只手也不抽筋了。我的两条腿还好好的呢。而且如今在食物补给上，我也占优势。

这时天已经变黑了，因为九月里，太阳一落山，天就马上变黑了。他背靠着船头那块破木头，尽量休息够。第一批群星出来了。他并不知道参宿七的名字，但是看到它就知道其他星星不久也会出现在天空，他就会有这么一群遥远的朋友了。“大鱼也是我的朋友，”他说出声来，“我从未见过，也没听说过这样一条鱼。但我必须得宰了它。我很高兴，我们不用去弄死那些星星了。”

想想看，如果人必须每天设法弄死月亮，他想。那么月亮就会逃跑的。但是想一想，如果人每天不得不想法弄死太阳呢？我们生来是幸运的，他想。

接着他为大鱼没有东西可吃而感到难过，但是他要弄死它的决心却丝毫没有因这同情而减弱。这条大鱼能供多少人吃呢？他想。但他们配吃它吗？不，当然不配。从它的举止风度和高贵的尊严来看，没有人配得上去吃它。

我不懂得这些事儿，他想。但是我们至少不用去弄死太阳、月亮或者星星。在海上生存，去杀死我们真正的兄弟已经够受的了。

现在，他想，我必须考虑一下拉力了。这个有风险，但也有好处。线放多了，鱼可能会逃脱；要是大鱼使劲，而来自船桨的拉力不变，船拖起来就轻了。船身轻，延长了我俩的痛苦，但对我来说这样安全，因为大鱼力气很大，还从来没有使出来。不管发生什么，我必须得把海豚剖开，这样它就不会腐烂了，我得吃点鱼肉保持体力。

现在我得再休息一个多小时，等感到大鱼稳定下来之后，我再挪回船尾做这事，决定下一步怎么做。同时我还可以观察它怎么行动，看是否有什么变化。用船桨是个好计策，但是现在是要求稳的时候了。它现在还是很厉害，我看见钓钩就钩着它嘴角，它把嘴闭得紧紧的。钓钩所带来的折磨根本不算什么。饥饿的折磨，还有它所在对抗的无法得知的东西，才是最大的麻烦。好好歇着吧，老头儿，就让它折腾去吧，下一步该干啥，到时候再说。

他觉得自己休息了两个小时的样子。月亮要到很晚才会升上来，他无从判断时间。他也没在真正地休息，不过是相对轻松些罢了。他的肩膀还在承受着大鱼带来的拉力，但他左手按在船头的船舷上，把来自大鱼的拉力越来越多地转嫁到小船身上了。

要是我把钓线系上的话，这一切该多简单啊，他想。但是它只要稍微扑腾一下就会挣断钓线。我必须得用自己的身体来缓冲大鱼带来的拉力，随时准备双手放出钓线来。

“但是你一直都没睡觉啊，老头儿，”他说出声来。“都已经过了半个白天，一个夜晚，如今又是一个白天，你都一直没睡觉。你必须得在大鱼安静平稳的时候想办法睡个觉。要是不睡的话，你可能会头脑不清醒的。”

我的头脑足够清醒了，他想。过于清醒了。我就跟星星一样清醒，它们是我的兄弟。但我还是必须睡觉。它们睡觉，月亮和太阳睡觉，甚至大海有时候也会睡觉，就在那些没有海浪，无限平静的日子里。

可别忘了睡觉，他想。想法子睡觉，设法用一些简单稳妥的方法来安置那些钓线。现在回去准备剖海豚吧。要是非睡觉不可的话，把船桨安置在那里来制造阻力可就太危险了。

我不睡觉也撑得住，他告诉自己。但会很危险。

他开始双手双脚爬回船尾，尽量小心不去惊动大鱼。大鱼也可能正半睡半醒，他想。但我可不想让它休息，它必须一直拖着船，一直到死。

回到船尾，他转过身来，这样左手就可以握住肩膀上的钓线，右手从刀鞘里抽出刀来。这时星星很明亮，他能很清楚地看清海豚。老人把刀刃插进海豚的头部，把它从船尾下面拖了出来。他一只脚踩住鱼身，从肛门朝上，迅速地一刀划到下颚尖。接着他把刀放下，右手把鱼肚子里的内脏挖出，掏干净，除去鱼鳃。

他感到鱼胃在他手里沉甸甸、滑腻腻的，就把它剖开。里面有两条小飞鱼，它们还那么新鲜坚硬，老人把它们并排放着，把内脏和鱼鳃扔出船外，丢进海里。它们沉下去时，在水里拖出一道磷光。海豚身子冰冷，这时在星光下显出像麻风病患者一样的灰白色。老人右脚踩住鱼头，剥下鱼身一侧的皮，又把它反过来，剥下另一侧的鱼皮，把鱼身上的肉从头至尾割了下来。

他把鱼骨头丢出船外，看水里有没有漩涡。但水里却只有它沉下去的那点余光。他转身把两条小飞鱼夹在那两片鱼肉之间，把刀插进刀鞘，慢慢地挪回船头。老人的脊背因钓线的重量被压弯了，他右手拿着鱼。

回到船头后，他把那两片鱼摊在木头上，旁边放着两条飞鱼。之后他把肩上的钓线换了个位置，又重新握着钓线，左手按在了船舷上。他靠在船边，在水里清洗飞鱼，观察着水流拍打手掌的速度。他的手因剥了鱼皮而发出磷光，老人观察着水流如何冲击他的手。水流渐缓了，他把手的侧面在船板上蹭了蹭，掉下来的鳞片漂浮开去，慢慢漂向船尾。

“它不是累了，就是在休息，”老人说，“现在我来把海豚吃了吧，休息一下，再睡上一会儿。”

星光下，在越来越冷的夜幕下，他吃下了一片鱼肉的一半，还有一条除去内脏和鱼头的飞鱼。

“海豚要是煮熟了吃，味道多美啊，”他说，“生吃起来可真难吃。我以后出海绝对不会不带盐或酸橙就上船。”

我要是有头脑的话，就该整天把海水泼在船头，让它晒干，这样就会有盐了，他想。但我几乎是太阳落山的时候才钓到了海豚。毕竟没有准备充分。然而我是把它细细咀嚼了的，而且我也没有恶心呕吐。

东方天空中云朵越积越多，他认识的星星一颗一颗地不见了。这时他仿佛驶进了一个云朵大峡谷，风停了。

“接下来的三四天要有坏天气了，”他说，“不过今晚和明天还不会。现在就安排，老头儿，趁大鱼安静平稳的时候睡上一觉。”

他右手紧握住钓线，大腿抵住右手，身子的全部重量靠在船头的木头上。然后他把肩膀上的钓线稍微往下移了一点儿，用左手绑着。

只要钓线绷着，我的右手就能拉着它，他想。要是我睡着的时候它松了，往外滑去，我的左手会叫醒我的。这对右手来说，活儿可真重啊。但它吃惯了苦了，就算我只睡上二十分钟或半个小时，也是好的。他朝前整个身子压住钓线，把所有的重量放在右手上，睡着了。

他没有梦到狮子，却梦见了一大群鼠海豚，它们绵延了八到十英里。这时正是它们交配的时节，它们高高地跃入空中，再掉回到跳出来时在水面上弄出的同一个水涡里。

然后他梦见他正在村里自家床上睡着，北风呼呼地吹着，他感到非常冷。右胳膊已经麻木了，因为他把右胳膊当枕头枕在上面。

之后他开始梦到长长的黄色海滩，第一头狮子傍晚时分来到这里，接着其他狮子也来了，他把下巴搁在船头的木头上，小船抛了锚停靠在那里，岸上的微风吹拂而来。他等着看有没有更多的狮子过来，心里很开心。

月亮已经升上来很久了，老人还在睡着，大鱼平稳地拖着小船，缓缓地驶进云朵的峡谷里。

突然间他的右拳打到了他脸上，右手也火辣辣的疼，他一下子醒了。这时左手已经毫无知觉了，老人尽力用右手刹住拼命往外溜的钓线。他的左手终于抓到了钓线，他仰着身子往后拽着，他的后背和左手火辣辣地疼，左手承受了所有的拉力，如今被割伤得厉害。他往后看那卷钓线，发现它们正溜溜地往外滑去。正在这时，大鱼猛地一跃，激起一阵巨大的海浪，接着又重重地掉入水中。然后它一次又一次地跃出水面，小船飞一般地往前跑，然而钓线还是飞速地往外滑，老人把线紧紧地拉得快要绷断了，又一次一次地拉到快要绷断的地步。他被拖倒，紧紧地抵着船头，脸贴在那片切下来的海豚肉上，无法动弹了。

这正是咱们俩等待的时刻，他想。那么就让我们摊牌吧。让它赔我的钓线，他想。让它赔。

他看不到大鱼的跳跃，只能听到鱼儿破水的冲击声和它掉入海中的迸溅声。钓线飞快地往前冲，深深地割伤了他的手，但他早就预料到这样的事会发生，就试着让钓线勒在起了老茧的部位，而不让线滑入手掌，或是割伤手指。

要是男孩在这儿，他就能把这些卷线浇湿了，他想。是的，要是男孩在这儿。要是他能在这儿。

钓线还在往外溜着，但如今速度在减缓，他让大鱼为钓线拖出去的每一英寸付出代价。现在他终于从木板上抬起头来，脸颊不再贴着那一片被压烂的鱼肉上了。接着他双膝跪着，缓缓地站起身来。他往外放着线，但是速度却慢多了。他挪回那片用脚可以感觉到卷线，而眼睛却看不到的地方。还剩不少钓线，新放了这么多线在水中，鱼拖起来摩擦力大了。

是的，他想。现在大鱼已经跳了不下十二次了，它脊背上的气囊里都充满了空气，所以不能沉入海底去死了，要是那样的话，我可没法把它从那么深的地方拉上来。待会它就要开始兜圈子了，我必须得想办法来对付它。不知道是什么突然惊动了它？是不是饥饿让它陷入绝望，还是它被黑夜里的什么东西给吓到了？也许它突然感觉到了恐惧。但它是多么冷静、多么强壮的一条大鱼啊，它看起来是如此地毫无畏惧，如此地信心十足。太奇怪了。

“你最好也要毫无畏惧、信心十足，老头儿，”他说。“你又控制住它了，但你没法拉回钓线。不久它可就要兜圈子了。”

这时老人用左手和双肩拖住大鱼，他弯下腰去，用右手舀水洗掉了黏在脸上的被压烂的海豚肉。他担心这东西会让他感到恶心作呕，他一呕吐就会失去体力。洗干净了脸之后，他在小船一侧的海水里洗了洗右手，让右手就这么浸在咸咸的海水里，这时他看到日出前的第一道曙光。大鱼这回一直是往东游的，他想。这说明它疲倦了，正在随着水流走。不久它就不得不兜圈了。那时我们真正的较量就开始了。

他估摸着右手在水里浸泡的时间足够长了，就抽了出来，看着它。

“还不坏，”他说，“对男人来说，痛不算什么。”

他小心地握住钓线，生怕线又勒进新的伤口里，然后把身子挪了挪位置，这样就能把左手伸进小船另一侧的海水里。

“你这没用的东西，干得还不坏嘛，”他对左手说。“曾经有一会儿，我可感觉不到你。”

为什么我没生有两只好手呢？他想。也许这是我的错，当初没有好好训练另一只手。但是上帝知道它有足够的机会来学习。不过它在夜里干得还不坏，仅仅抽了一次筋。它要是再抽筋，就让钓线把它割断吧。

当他想到这里，他知道自己头脑不太清醒了，想起自己应该再咀嚼一点海豚肉。但我不能，他告诉自己。就算头晕眼花也比呕吐后失去体力要好。而且我知道我即便吃了肚子也存不住，因为我的脸曾粘在鱼肉上面。只要没坏掉，这肉就留着救急吧。现在通过增加营养来保存体力实在是太晚了。你真笨，他对自己说。把另一条飞鱼吃了吧。

它就在那儿，是干净的，随时可以吃。他左手捡起那条鱼吃起来，仔细地咀嚼着骨头，从头至尾把它吃得精光。

飞鱼几乎比其他任何一种鱼都营养丰富，他想。至少给了我所需要的体力。眼下我已经做了力所能及的事，他想，就让大鱼兜圈吧，让我们开战吧。

自从他这次出海捕鱼，太阳已是第三次升起了。这时大鱼开始兜圈了。

根据钓线的斜度，他还看不到大鱼在兜圈。如今还太早。他只是感觉到线上的拉力有些微的松弛，于是开始轻轻地用右手把线往回拉。钓线还一如既往地紧绷着，但是当他就要把线拉断的当儿，钓线开始往回收了。他把线从肩膀和头上卸下来，开始平稳而缓和地把线往回拉。他用双手摇荡着往回拉绳，身体和双腿也尽可能地使着力。他苍老的双腿和肩膀随着拉绳时的左右摇摆而转动着。

“它可真是兜了个大圈啊，”他说，“但他是在打转。”接着钓线再也收不动了，他紧紧地拉着线，看到水滴在阳光下从线上弹出来。线突然又开始往外滑了，老人跪倒了，不情愿地让线滑进了黑暗的水里。

“它现在转到圈子最远的一边去了，”他说。我可得尽力握紧，他想。这种拉力每次都会减短他绕的圈子。也许一个钟头后我就能看到它了。如今我必须要制服它，然后把它宰了。

但是大鱼继续慢慢地转着圈，老人浑身都被汗湿了，两个小时后他已经疲乏入骨了。不过圈子越转越小了，从钓线在水中的倾斜度他能看出大鱼边游边往上升了。

一个钟头以来，老人眼前黑点直晃，汗水渍入他的眼睛，渍入眼睛上方和额头上的伤口。他不怕那些黑点子。他这么用力地拉钓线，眼前出现黑点子是正常的。然而，他已经有两次感到头晕，这让他很担心。

“我可不能就这么倒下去，就这么死在一条鱼手里，”他说，“既然我都让它这么漂亮地游上来了，上帝帮助我，让我支撑下去吧。我会念一百遍《天主经》和一百遍《圣母经》。但我现在没法念。”

就当已经念过了吧，他想。我过后会补上的。正在这时，他感到双手紧握着的那根线被猛弹猛拽了一下。这一下来得很猛，感觉强劲而沉重。

它正用尖嘴撞击金属导线，他想。这终究会发生的。它不得不走这一步。尽管这会让它跳起来，我宁愿它继续兜着圈。跳起来它才能呼吸到空气。但此后的每一次跳跃都会拉大钓钩给它的伤口，他可能会吐出钓钩。

“别跳了，鱼啊，”他说，“别跳啦。”

大鱼又撞了导线几下子，每次它一摆头，老人就得放出一点线。

我必须控制住不再增加它的疼痛了，他想。我的疼痛不要紧。我能控制得住。但是大鱼的疼痛会让它发狂的。

过了一会儿，大鱼不再继续撞击导线了，又开始慢慢地转圈。老人现在稳步收着线。但他再一次感到了眩晕。他用左手撩起一点海水，洒在头上。接着又撩了些，擦了擦颈后。

“我没抽筋，”他说，“它一会儿就上来了，我还能坚持。你可得坚持，再也不要提抽筋的事了。”

他靠着船头跪了下来，暂时又把钓线换到背上。它出去转圈的这会儿我要歇一下，等它转回来的时候，我就站起来接着跟它斗，他决定。

能在船头休息一下实在是太舒服了，就让大鱼自己兜着圈，也不用收回一点线。然而当线上的拉力表明大鱼转向小船游了过来，老人站起来，双手左摇右摆地往回把钓线收回来。

我从来都没有这么疲倦过，他想。现在信风起来了。正好靠它把大鱼给拖回来。我多么需要这风啊。

“下次它再往外游的时候我还可以休息会儿，”他说。“我感觉好多了。它再转个两三圈，我就能逮住它了。”

他的草帽被远远地推到后脑勺上。大鱼转身的时候，随着钓线被一扯，老人一下坐到了船头。

你就忙你的吧，鱼啊，他想。等你转身回来的时候我就拿你。海水升高了不少。但这是在好天气吹拂的微风，他得靠这风回家。

“我只要往西南方向行驶就行了，”他说。“人不可能在海上迷路的，这可是个长长的岛。”

大鱼转到第三圈，老人才第一次看到它。

起先他看到一个黑影游过船底，它花了很长时间才从船底完全经过，老人简直不能相信大鱼有这么长。

“不，”他说，“它不可能这么长。”

但它就有那么长。转完这圈之后，大鱼浮出水面，离小船只有三十码远，老人看到它的尾巴掠出水面。这尾巴比一把钐刀刀片还要高，是极淡的紫色，竖立在深蓝色的海面。它往后倾斜着，大鱼刚刚没过水面游的时候，老人看到它巨大的身躯以及在鱼身上紫色的宽大条纹。它的背鳍朝下，巨大的胸鳍向外张得很开。

这一圈老人看到了大鱼的眼睛，两只灰色的印鱼绕着它游着。有时候它们附在大鱼身上。有时候突然游开。有时候则在它的影子里自由自在地游着。它们每只都有三英尺多长，游得快的时候，身体扭动得像鳗鱼一样。

老人开始流汗，不是因为在太阳下晒着的缘故，而是别有原因。大鱼每次平静地游一圈回来，老人就多收回一些钓线。他确信再转两圈多，就会有机会把鱼叉扎进去了。

不过我得把他拉得近一点，近一点，再近一点，他想。我绝对不能去扎它的脑袋，我必须扎着心脏。

“要冷静，要坚强，老头儿，”他说。

又兜了一圈回来，鱼的脊背露出了水面，但它还是离小船太远了。又一圈之后，大鱼还是离得很远，只不过在水面上略微高出了一些。老人确信再多收回一些线，他就能把大鱼拉到船边了。

鱼叉老早就准备好了，叉上的一卷细绳子正在一个圆筐子里，另一端被牢牢地系在船头的缆柱上。

大鱼又兜了一圈回来了，它如此的沉着美丽，只有大尾巴在动。老人用尽全力把它拉近些。有那么一会儿，大鱼往他那儿倾斜了一下。接着它又竖直了身子，开始转下一圈。

“我把它拉动了，”老人说，“我刚才把它拉动了”。

这时他又感到一阵眩晕，但是老人竭尽全力去拉这条大鱼。我把它拉动了，他想。也许这次我就能把它拉过来。拉啊，手，他想。站稳了，腿。挺住吧，头。挺住！你可从没晕过。这次我要把它拉过来。

但是当他用尽全力，在大鱼还没游到船边就开始使劲往回拉，大鱼侧过半边身子，又挺直了游走了。

“鱼啊，”老人说。“鱼啊，你终归是要死的。也要连我一起弄死吗？”

这样下去会徒劳无功的，他想。他的嘴唇干得说不出话来，但眼下还不能去够水瓶。这次我必须得把它拉到船边，他想。再多转几圈我就不行了。不对，你行的，他告诉自己，你永远都行的。

大鱼转下一圈的时候，老人差点就得手了。但大鱼又一次正了正身子，缓缓地游走了。

你会把我弄死的，鱼啊，老人心想。不过你有这个权利。我从未见过比你更庞大、更美丽、更冷静、更高贵的生灵，兄弟。来吧，把我弄死吧。我不在乎我们中谁把谁弄死。

你现在脑袋开始糊涂起来了，他想。你必须得保持清醒。保持清醒，你要懂得如何像一个男子汉那样忍受痛苦。或者像鱼一样，他想。

“清醒一下吧，头，”他用几乎听不到的声音说道。“清醒一下。”

大鱼又兜了两圈，一切如旧。

我不知道，老人心想。每一次他都感觉自己快要垮了。我不知道。但我还得再试一次。

他又试了一次，当他拉动大鱼的时候，感觉自己就要垮了。大鱼正了正身子，又一次缓缓地游走了，大尾巴在空中摇摆着。

我还要再试一次，老人许诺，尽管此时他的双手已血肉模糊，他的眼睛也不太好使了，只能间歇地看清楚了。

他又试了一次，还是老样子。于是他想，还没开始就感觉要垮了；我还得试一次。

他忍受住了所有的疼痛，用剩余的所有气力以及早已耗尽的骄傲，与大鱼相搏。大鱼终于来到他的身边，慢悠悠地游到他的身边，它的尖嘴几乎碰到了船板。它开始从船边游过去，身体那么长，那么高，又那么那么宽，银色的鱼身上紫色的条纹在水里无尽地延伸着。

老人放下钓线，一脚踩住，把鱼叉举得尽可能高，用尽所有力气，加上他刚才鼓起的力气，向下直插进大鱼身体的一侧，就在大胸鳍后面一点的地方。那高高耸立在空中的胸鳍跟老人的胸膛一样高。他感到那铁叉插进了鱼身，又把身子倚上鱼叉上，再扎深一点，接着把身体所有的重量压了过去。

接着大鱼突然活了过来，尽管死到临头了。它高高地跃出水面，展示着它惊人的长度、宽度、它所有的力量和美丽。它似乎就在老人的小船上方悬着。然后它“砰”的一声坠入了水中，激起的浪花溅了老人一身，也溅满了整条船。

老人感到眩晕，恶心，眼睛看不清东西。但是他清理了鱼叉上的线，让它从满是伤口的手中慢慢地溜过。当他能看清东西时，老人看到大鱼仰天躺着，银白色的肚皮朝上。鱼叉的柄在鱼肩那儿斜插着，鲜红的血从大鱼的心脏那儿流了出来，使海水变了色。起初那血迹黑黢黢的就像是一英里深的蓝色的海水里的一滩暗礁。然后它慢慢地像云朵一样散开。银白色的大鱼静静地随着海浪漂浮着。

老人用他偶尔能看清的眼睛仔细看着眼前的景象。接着他把鱼叉上的线绕着缆柱缠了两圈，把头搭在手上。

“让我的脑袋保持清醒吧，”他靠着船头的木头说。“我是一个疲倦的老头儿。但我把我的兄弟，也就是这条大鱼给弄死了。眼下我得干苦活了。”

现在我必须得准备些绳套，把它绑在船边，他想。即使这儿有两个人，把小船装满了水好把大鱼运进来，然而把水都舀出，这只船也绝不可能承得住它。我必须把万事准备好，把大鱼拖过来，好好地绑住，竖起桅杆，扬帆回家。

他开始把大鱼拉过来，拖到船边，这样他就可以把绳子从大鱼的腮那儿穿进去，再从嘴里穿出来，把鱼头牢牢固定在船头。我想看看它，他想，抚摸它，感受它。它是我的财富，他想。但这并不是我想感受它的原因。我想我刚才摸到了它的心脏，他想，当我第二次握着鱼叉柄扎进去的时候。现在得把它拖过来，牢牢系住，用一根套绳捆住它的尾巴，再用另一根把鱼身子捆住，绑在小船上。

“开始动工吧，老头儿，”他说。他喝了一小口水。“战斗结束了，要下力气的活儿还多着呢。”

他抬头看看天，然后向外看看鱼。他仔细看着太阳。中午刚过了一会儿，他想。而且信风开始起来了。现在钓线都用不着了，等回家了我和男孩再把这些线拼接起来。

“来吧，鱼儿，”他说。但是大鱼并没有动。相反的，大鱼正在海里躺着，打着滚，老人把小船划了过去。

当他划成与大鱼并排，鱼头靠着船头时，他简直无法相信它会有那么大。但是他把鱼叉的绳索从缆柱上解开，从大鱼的鱼鳃那儿穿进去，再从下巴那儿掏了出来，在那尖嘴上绕了个圈，然后再从另一个鱼鳃穿了进去，在尖嘴上又绕了个圈，最后打了个双结，把大鱼紧紧地系在了船头的缆柱上。他砍下一段绳子，到船尾把尾巴绑好。大鱼已从原来的紫色和银白色完全变成了银色，鱼身上的条纹有和尾巴一样的淡紫色。那条纹比老人五指伸开还要宽，大鱼的眼睛冷漠得如同潜望镜的镜面，抑或是宗教游行队伍中的圣徒。

“这是弄死它的唯一的办法了，”老人说。喝完水之后他感觉好多了，他知道自己不会垮下去了，头脑也清醒了许多。这样看来大鱼足足有一千五百多磅重，他想。也许还更重。开膛剖肚后，净重如果还有目前的三分之二，按每磅三十美分来算的话？

“我需要用笔算，”他说。“我的脑袋不太清醒了。但是我认为了不起的迪马尼奥今天会为我而骄傲的。我没长骨刺，不过双手和后背可真是太疼了。”不知道骨刺是什么，他想。也许我们身体里长了这东西也不知道呢。

他把大鱼紧紧地绑在船头、船尾和船中间的横梁上。它可真大，就像是在小船旁边绑上了一只更大的船一样。他割下一段钓线，把鱼的下颚和尖嘴绑了起来，这样鱼嘴就不会张开，小船也就可以尽可能不受阻碍地前行了。接着他竖起了桅杆，装上那根鱼叉上带的棍子并装上了风帆的横桁，打着补丁的帆开始鼓风，小船开始移动了。老人半躺在船尾，向西南方向驶去。

他根本不需要用指南针来告诉他哪儿是西南方，只要凭信风吹来的感觉和船帆鼓风的情形就知道了。我最好在细钓线上绑个钩勺抛出去，钓点东西吃，吸点水分喝。但是他找不到钩勺，而且沙丁鱼饵也都腐烂了。于是老人用鱼钩钩上来一堆从小船旁流过的黄色马尾藻，拎起来摇了摇，水藻里的小虾就顺势掉在了船板上。估计有十几只的样子，它们像沙蚤一样乱蹦乱跳。老人用拇指和食指掐掉小虾的头，连壳带尾地送进嘴里咀嚼着。它们非常小，但老人知道它们营养丰富，而且味道也很好。

老人瓶里还剩下两口水，他吃完小虾后喝了半口。考虑到不利的条件，小船行进得还算顺利，他把舵柄夹在胳膊下来掌舵。他能看到大鱼。只需看看他那双手，脊背靠在船艄上，他就能知道这一切都是真实发生的事，不是一场梦。在战斗结束之前，曾经有段时间，他感到非常难受，于是猜想也许这真的是一场梦。然后当他看到大鱼跃出水面，掉进海里之前在上空一动不动地悬着，他确信这其中大有奇异，感到难以置信。

当时他不大看得清楚，尽管现在他跟往常一样看得一清二楚了。现在他知道大鱼是存在的，他的双手和后背都不是梦。双手会很快痊愈的，他想。我把污血都放干净了，含盐的海水会治愈它们的。墨西哥海湾深色的海水是最好的疗伤药。我必须要做的就是保持头脑清醒。这双手已经尽了本分了，我们的小船也航行得很好。大鱼的嘴闭着，尾巴一上一下地直竖着，我们就像兄弟俩一样航行着。接着他的脑袋开始变得有点糊涂了，老人心想，是我把它拖过来的，还是它把我拖过来的？我要是把它绑在船后拖着走，就没什么疑问了。或者鱼被剁的七零八碎堆在船里，也没有什么疑问。但他们一起并排航行着，老人想，要是它高兴的话就让它把我拖过去吧。我只不过是靠了诡计才比它强的，而它无心害我啊。

他们顺利地航行着，老人把双手浸在海水里，试图让脑袋保持清醒。天空中积云堆积得很高，上面还有许多卷云，老人知道微风会吹上一整夜。老人一直盯着鱼看，来确信这一切都是真的。这样过了一个小时，突然有鲨鱼来袭！

鲨鱼的出现不是偶然的。当那一滩深色的血迹在一英里深处的海里像云朵般沉积并扩散开来，它从深深的海底游了上来。它游得如此之快，全然不顾一切地冲破蓝色的海面，跃入阳光中。接着它又重新掉入水中，寻找着血的气味，开始朝小船和大鱼行驶的那条航线游来。

有时候，它把血腥味跟丢了，但它又会嗅出来，或者仅是嗅到了那么一点儿，就飞快地紧跟上来。它是一头很大的灰鲭鲨，生就一身好体格，是海洋中游得最快的鱼类。它周身除了颚部是那么的美丽。它的脊背如剑鱼一般蓝，肚皮呈银白色，鱼皮光滑而漂亮。它的体格很像剑鱼，除了那张紧闭的大嘴，眼下它就在水底快速地游着，高高的背鳍划破水面，没有一丝抖动。在它紧闭着双唇的嘴里，一口牙齿共八排朝里倾斜着，不像一般鲨鱼的金字塔形，它们像人类的手指蜷成爪子的样子，牙齿几乎和老人的手指一般长，两边都有锋利的切口。这种鱼生下来就是以海中所有的鱼类为食的，它们的速度是如此之快，体格是如此健壮，武装得如此之好，一直所向无敌。眼下闻到越来越新鲜的血腥味，它加快了速度，蓝色的背鳍划破水面。

老人看着它游过来时，他知道这条鲨鱼毫无畏惧，它会随心所欲。他看着鲨鱼游上来，准备好了鱼叉，系紧了绳子。由于之前把绳子砍下一截来绑大鱼，绳子短了。

老人此时头脑清醒好使，充满决心，但他胜算很小。这一切都太美好了，美好得无法持久，他想。看到鲨鱼逼近时，老人看了一眼大鱼。这简直像做了一场梦，他想。我没法阻止它来袭击我，但我可以打它。大牙鲨，他想。你老娘要倒霉了！

鲨鱼飞速地逼近船尾，当它袭击大鱼时，老人看到它张开大嘴，看到它那双奇异的眼睛。它咬住大鱼尾巴上面一点的部位时，牙齿嘎哒嘎哒作响。鲨鱼的头露出了水面，他的脊背即将冒出，老人听到大鱼的鱼皮和鱼肉被撕扯下来的声音，他用鱼叉使劲戳进鲨鱼脑袋上的一个点里，那个点正好在双眼之间的那条线与鼻子通往脑后的那条线的交叉处。当然鲨鱼头上是没有这样的线的，只有厚实的蓝色尖头、硕大的眼睛以及那咔嗒作响、冲力巨大、吞噬一切的巨颚。但那个点正是脑子所在的位置，老人击中了。他使出全身气力，操着那把完好的鱼叉，用血肉模糊的双手用力戳进。他不报任何希望，却满怀决心和恶意地戳下去。

鲨鱼翻了个身，老人看出它的眼睛里已经没有了生气，但它又翻了个身，身上缠上了两道绳子。老人知道鲨鱼快要毙命了，但鲨鱼却不愿认输。接着，它背朝下躺着，大尾巴拍打着，大嘴噶哒嘎哒咬着，身体如一艘快艇一样飞速地划破水面。它的尾巴击打着，水面泛起白色的水花，四分之三的身体露出水面，这时绳子突然绷紧，颤动着，“啪”地断了。鲨鱼在海面上静静地躺了片刻，老人一直盯着它。接着它慢慢地沉下去了。

“它吃掉了几乎四十磅的鱼肉，”老人说出声来。它还把我的鱼叉和所有的绳子都扯走了，他想。眼下我的大鱼又在流血了，还会有其他的鲨鱼过来的。

他不忍再去看大鱼了，因为它已被咬得残缺了。大鱼被袭击的时候，老人感觉好像是自己受了袭击。

但是我把袭击我的大鱼的鲨鱼弄死了，他想。它是我见过的最大的大牙鲨。上帝知道我见过的大家伙可不少。

好事不长久啊，他想。我希望这一切都是个梦，希望从来没有钓到这条大鱼，希望我正独自躺在铺着报纸的床上。

“但人不是为了失败而生的，”他说，“人可以被毁灭，但绝不能被打败。”不过我很难过把大鱼给弄死了，他想。如今糟糕的时刻要来了，我连个鱼叉都没有。大牙鲨凶残、能干、强壮、聪明。但我远比它要聪明。也许并不是，他想。也许我只是武器比它强。

“别想了，老头儿，”他说出声来。“按航线航行吧，一切随机应变吧。”

但我必须得思考，他想。因为这是我唯一剩下的东西了。这个，还有棒球。不知道了不起的迪马尼奥会不会喜欢我那样刺中鲨鱼脑袋？这也不是什么了不得的事，他想。随便一个人都能做得到。但你可认为，我这受伤的双手就如同骨刺一般是个极不利的条件？我无法得知。我的后脚跟从未出过毛病，除了有一次游泳的时候，我踩着了一条海鳐鱼，它蜇了我一下，我的小腿麻痹了，疼得不得了。

“想点开心的事儿吧，老头儿，”他说，“眼下每过一分钟，你都离家更近了。丢掉了这四十磅鱼肉，你行驶得更轻快了呢。”

他清楚地知道一旦驶到水流中心会发生什么。但现在一点办法也没有。

“对了，有办法了，”他说出声来。“我可以把刀子绑在一支船桨的一端。”

老人于是一只胳膊夹着舵柄，一只脚踩住帆脚索，绑起刀子来。

“好了，”他说。“我现在仍是个老头儿。但可不是手无寸铁。”

此刻的微风很清新，老人航行得很好。他只盯着大鱼的前半部，心里略微又有了点儿希望。

不心存希望可真是愚蠢啊，他想。而且我觉得还是罪恶呢。不再要想罪恶了，他想。此刻没有罪恶，问题都够多的了。而且我一点也搞不懂这个啊。

我一点也搞不懂，而且我也不太确信是否相信。也许杀死大鱼就是罪恶。我想即使我杀它时是为了养活自己和更多的人，这本身也是一种罪恶。但是如果这样，一切皆是罪恶。不要再想它了。现在想已经太晚了，而且有些人拿了钱就是干这个的。让他们去考虑这个问题吧。你生来就是个渔夫，正如鱼生来就是鱼一样。圣贝德罗是个渔夫，正如了不起的迪马尼奥的父亲也是个渔夫。

但是，他喜欢思考他涉身其中的一切事情，既然身边没有书报可读，也没有收音机可听，他思考了很多问题，而且接着想着罪恶。你杀死大鱼不只是为了养活自己以及卖了它换食物，他想。你杀死它还是为了自豪感，因为你是个渔夫。当它活着的时候，你爱着它；它死了之后，你依然爱它。如果你爱着它，那么杀死它就不是罪恶。或许是更大的罪恶？

“你想得太多了，老头儿，”他说出声来。

但你杀死那条大牙鲨还挺高兴的，他想。它和你一样也靠活鱼生存。它不是捡吃腐肉的，也不像其他鲨鱼游到哪里吃到哪里。它漂亮、高贵，啥都不怕。

“我杀它是正当防卫，”老人说出声来。“而且我让它死了个痛快。”

此外，他想，一切事物都以某种方式杀死另外的事物。捕鱼在养活我的同时，也几乎把我给耗尽了。但男孩使我活了下来，他想。我可不能太过于欺骗自己。

他往船外探身，从鲨鱼咬过的地方扯下一块鱼肉。他咀嚼着，感受着鱼肉上好的质地和味道。这鱼肉结实而多汁，像其他肉一样，但不是红色。肉质一点也不黏，他知道这会在市场上卖出最好的价钱。但老人无法阻止它的气味散发到水里，他明白一个非常倒霉的时刻就要到来了。

微风依旧吹着，稍微转向了东北方，他知道风不会平息下来。老人往前望去，却看不到任何的帆，船身，或是任何船上飘出来的烟。只有飞鱼从船头下跃出，向两边跃去，还有一滩滩黄色的马尾藻。他甚至看不到一只鸟。

他已经航行了两个钟头，一直在船尾歇着，有时嚼一些从马林鱼上扯下来的鱼肉，尽量地休息以保持体力。这时，他看到了两头鲨鱼中的第一头。

“Ay，”他说出声来。这词儿没法翻译，也许只是一种叫喊，诸如钉子穿过手掌，钉进木头时，一个人不由自主发出的声音。

“加拉诺鲨，”他说出声来。这时他看到第二只鱼鳍从第一只后面冒了出来，从那灰褐色的三角形鱼鳍以及尾巴摇摆的动作，他认出他们正是窄头双髻鲨。他们嗅到了大鱼的味道，兴奋不已。它们饿得发昏了，于是兴奋地一会儿迷失了气味，一会儿又找到了。不过它们始终在逼近小船。

老人把帆索系牢，又夹紧舵柄，接着拿起那支绑着刀子的船桨。由于双手过于疼痛，快不听使唤了，他尽可能轻得举起船桨。然后老人把手张开，又轻轻地握住船桨，以便活动一下筋骨。他一边紧紧地握住桨柄，让双手来承受袭来的疼痛感又不至于退缩回去，一边注视着鲨鱼游过来。眼下他能看到鲨鱼宽阔扁平如铲子般的尖头，和它们尖端呈白色的宽大的胸鳍。这两头可憎的鲨鱼散发着恶臭，吃腐烂的食物，也捕杀活鱼，它们饥饿的时候，甚至连船桨或是船舵都会咬上一口。这些鲨鱼会趁海龟在海面上睡觉时咬掉它们的腿和脚蹼，饥饿时会袭击在水中的人们，即使人身上没有鱼血或是鱼黏液的腥味。

“Ay，”老人说。“加拉诺鲨。来吧，加拉诺鲨。”

它们来了。但它们来的方式和灰鲸鲨并不相同。一头鲨鱼一转身，消失在船底，老人能感觉到它撕扯大鱼时小船剧烈的晃动。另外一头用它那一条缝似的黄色眼睛注视着老人，然后飞速地游了过来，它那半圆形的嘴大张着，撕咬大鱼已经被咬开的部位。它灰褐色的脑壳顶部以及脑子和脊髓相连处的那条线清晰可见，老人将刀子猛扎进那个结合点，抽出来，又猛扎进鲨鱼黄色的猫眼里。鲨鱼松开了咬住的大鱼，身子往水底滑，临死前吞下了咬下来的那块鱼肉。

另外一头鲨鱼还在船底咬噬大鱼，小船剧烈地晃动着，老人放开了帆索，这样小船会向一侧摇摆，从而使鲨鱼从船底露出来。看到鲨鱼时，他从船边欠出身子，向它猛戳过去。可他只戳到了鲨鱼身上的肉，那鱼皮太过紧致结实，刀子几乎扎不进去。这一戳不仅震痛他的手，也震痛了肩膀。但是鲨鱼迅速地游了上来，脑袋露出水面，它的鼻子刚露出来去接近大鱼时，老人一下击中它扁平脑袋的正中央。老人抽出刀刃，又准确无误地朝同一个部位扎了进去。鲨鱼还是紧紧咬住鱼肉不放，老人又朝它的左眼扎了下去，鲨鱼还是吊在那里。

“还不走？”老人边说边把刀刃刺进脊椎和脑壳之间。这一扎很容易，他感到鲨鱼的软骨断了。老人把船桨倒过来拿着，想用桨片撬开鲨鱼的大嘴。他搅动桨片时，鲨鱼松开嘴滑了下去。他说：“滚吧，加拉诺鲨。下沉一英里，去找你的朋友，或你妈妈吧。”

老人擦干净刀刃，放下船桨。接着他找到了帆索，风把船帆张了起来，小船又回到原来的航线上。

“它们肯定吃掉了四分之一的鱼肉，还是最好的肉，”他说出声来。“真希望这是一个梦，希望我从来没钓到过这条大鱼。对不起，鱼儿。这一切都被搞糟了。”他顿住了，不忍再去看那条大鱼。它流尽了血，被海水冲刷着，身体看上去像镜子银色的背面，条纹依然可见。

“我真不该到这么远的地方来捕鱼，鱼儿，”他说。“对你或对我都不好。对不起，鱼儿。”眼下呢，他对自己说。看看绑在刀子上的绳子是不是断了。把手准备好，因为会有更多的鲨鱼过来的。

“希望能有块石头来磨磨刀子，”老人检查了绑在桨把上的绳子后说。“我真该带块儿磨刀石的。”你该带很多东西过来的，他想。但你还是没带啊，老头儿。现在可不是时候去想你没带什么东西，想想就凭眼下的这些物件能做些什么吧。

“你给我多少忠告啊，”他说出声来，“我都听厌烦了。”

他把舵柄夹在胳膊下，双手浸在水里，小船朝前驶去。

“上帝知道最后那头鲨鱼咬掉了多少鱼肉，”他说。

“不过船现在可轻多了。”他不忍去想腹部被咬的残缺不全的大鱼。他知道鲨鱼每次猛撞上去，都会撕扯下一块鱼肉，如今大鱼给所有的鲨鱼留下了一道气味，宽得如同穿越在海洋的一条公路。

这条大鱼足以供养一个人整整一个冬天，他想。别再想这个了。好好休息让你的双手恢复状态，好来保护这剩下的鱼肉吧。水中的血腥味这么重，我手上流的这点血根本不算什么。而且血流的也不多，割伤的地方也算不了什么。流点血还能防止左手抽筋。

我现在还有什么事可想？他想。什么也没有。我必须什么也不想，等待之后来袭的鲨鱼。希望这真的只是一个梦，他想。但谁知道呢？也许一切都会好起来的。

接下来的是头铲鲨。它来势汹汹，如同冲向饲料槽的一头猪，如果猪能有那么大的嘴能让你把头放进去的话。老人随它去撕咬大鱼，然后用桨上的刀扎入它的脑袋。但是鲨鱼扭着身子急剧地往后退的时候，刀刃“啪”地断了。

老人坐定下来掌舵。他甚至都不去看那头大鲨鱼慢慢地沉入水底，先是和原来一样大，继而变小，只剩下一丁点儿。这种情景总是让老人着迷。但眼下他甚至根本就不去看它。

“我现在还有根鱼钩，”他说。“但也没什么用。我还有两支船桨，一支舵柄，还有一根短棍。”

现在它们已经把我打败了，他想。我年纪太大了，没法用棍子把鲨鱼打死。但是只要我有船桨、短棍和舵柄，我就要试试看。

他再次把手浸入水中。下午渐渐就要过去，他只能看到大海和天空。天上的风比往常大些，他希望能很快地看到陆地。

“你已经疲倦了，老头儿，”他说。“你的心都疲倦了。”

直到日落前，鲨鱼们才开始再次来袭。

老人看到灰褐色的鱼鳍顺着大鱼在水中留下的踪迹跟了上来。它们甚至不用分神嗅出腥味，而是肩并肩径直扑向小船。

他夹紧了舵柄，系牢了帆索，从船尾地下够到了短棍。这实际上是从坏掉的船桨上锯下的桨柄，大约有两英尺半那么长。上面有个把手，只容一只手拿着才能运用自如，他用右手握住把手，弯着手按在上面，一边看着鲨鱼游过来。它们是两条加拉诺鲨。

我必须得让第一头先牢牢咬住，再去打它的鼻头，或直击脑袋中央，他想。

两头鲨鱼一起扑了上来。老人看到离他最近的那头张开大嘴一口咬进大鱼银色的腹部，他高高举起棍子，重重地抡下去，“砰”地击中鲨鱼宽阔的脑门。棍子落下来，他感觉像打在橡胶上，但也感觉到坚硬的鲨骨，老人再一次重重地击打它的鼻头，鲨鱼从大鱼身上滑了下来。

另外一头鲨鱼已经往来了几个回合，眼下它又张着嘴游过来了。老人看到，它直扑在大鱼身上合拢两颚时，鱼肉从它嘴边飞溅出来，白花花的。他举起棍子又挥了过去，只抡在脑袋上，鲨鱼朝他看了看，把咬在嘴里的鱼肉撕了下来，溜到一边去吞食，老人挥起棍子，再次向他打去，只打到了橡胶般的厚皮。

“来吧，加拉诺鲨，”老人说。“再游过来吧。”

鲨鱼急速冲了过来，合拢大嘴时，老人击中了它。他把棍子举得尽可能高，结结实实地打了下去。这次他感到击中了脑窝的骨头，于是朝同一个部位又打了一棍，鲨鱼慢吞吞地扯下一块肉，从大鱼身边滑进水底。

老人注视着它，等着它下次来袭，但是两头鲨鱼都没有再露面。接着他看到其中的一头在水面上打旋，而没有看到另一头的鱼鳍。

我可没敢指望能打死它们，他想，我年轻的时候可以。但我让它们受了重伤，它们现在都蔫了。要是我能两只手抡起一只棒球棒，我肯定能把第一头打死。即使现在也能行，他想。

他不忍心去看那条大鱼。他知道它有一半都被咬掉了。刚才和鲨鱼搏斗时，太阳已经下山了。

“天很快就要黑了，”他说。“然后我就能看到哈瓦那的灯火了。如果小船往东行驶得太远了，我将能看到新开的海滩上的灯光。”

我现在不可能离陆地太远，他想。希望没人太担心。当然只有男孩会担心。但是我确信他会对我有信心的。很多老渔夫也会担心。当然还有其他的一些人，他想。我住在一个好镇子呢。

他无法再同大鱼说话了，因为大鱼已经面目全非了。接着他突然想到了什么。

“半条鱼，”他说。“你原来可是条完整的鱼啊。很抱歉我去那么远的地方捕鱼。我把咱们俩都给毁了。但咱们弄死了不少鲨鱼，就我和你，而且还打伤了很多头。你曾经弄死过多少啊，老鱼？你头上长着那么一张尖嘴，可不是白长的啊。”

他喜欢去想这条大鱼，想象着如果它在水里自由自在地游着，会去怎样对付一头鲨鱼。我本该把这长嘴砍下来对付鲨鱼的，他想。但我这儿没有斧子，也没有刀子。

但如果我有的话，就会把这尖嘴绑在桨把上，这武器多棒啊。这样咱们就能并肩作战了。要是鲨鱼夜间来袭的话，你会怎么做？你能做什么？

“和它们继续搏斗，”他说。“我会继续搏斗，一直到死。”

但是如今已是夜里，周围没有天空反射的光，也没有灯火，只有吹拂的风和被稳稳地拖曳着的帆，他感到也许他已经死了。他两手合并，摸了摸掌心。它们还没死，只是简单的一开一合，老人就感觉到生之疼痛。他背靠着船尾，知道自己还没有死。肩膀如是告诉他。

我许诺过如果逮到这条大鱼要念好多遍祷告词，他想。但是眼下我太疲倦了，根本念不了。我最好把麻袋拿过来，披在肩膀上。

他躺在船尾掌着舵，注视着天空，等候光晕的出现。我还有半条大鱼，他想。也许我运气好的话能把这前半条带回去。我该有些运气了。不对，他说。当你去那么远的地方捕鱼时，就已经亵渎了你的运气。

“别傻了，”他说出声来。“保持清醒，好好掌舵。你也许会有很多运气呢。”

“要是有什么地方卖运气，我倒是愿意去买一些，”他说。

我能拿什么去买呢？他问自己。我能用一支丢掉的鱼叉、一把破刀和两只受伤的手来买吗？

“也许可以呢，”他说。“你曾想用在海上的八十四天来买。人家几乎也卖给了你。”

我可不能胡思乱想，他想。运气是以不同形式出现的，谁能辨认出来呢？不管是什么形式，我都想要点儿运气，不管人家开什么价。我希望能看到天边反射的光晕，他想。我所希望的事太多了。但现在就有一件我希望发生的事。他试着坐得更舒服些，从疼痛中，老人感觉自己还没有死。

大约晚上十点钟时，他看到城市的灯火在天边反射的光晕。起初只能依稀看见，如同月亮升起前天上出现的微光。然后隔着海洋看过去，光亮逐渐清楚了。眼下随着微风渐起，海面开始波涛汹涌起来。他驶进了光晕的圈子里，想着，要不了多久就要驶到湾流的边缘了。

如今一切都结束了，他想。它们也许还会来袭击我。但是一个手无寸铁的人如何能在黑暗中对付它们呢？

他现在身子僵硬、浑身酸痛，身上的伤口和所有用力过度的部位因寒夜的到来而备感疼痛。希望我不用再搏斗了，他想。我多么希望不用再搏斗了啊。

然而到了午夜，他又再次搏斗了，这一次，他知道搏斗也是徒劳。它们成群袭来，他只能看到鲨鱼们的鱼鳍在水中排成一条线以及它们扑向大鱼时反射的磷光。他朝一个个的头抡去，听到鲨鱼们啃噬时双颚噶哒作响，它们在船下咬住大鱼时，小船不停地晃动。他绝望而拼命地向他能感觉到的和听到的方向抡去，突然有什么东西咬住了棍子，之后棍子不见了。

他把舵柄猛地从船舵上扯下，用它又打又砍，双手紧紧握住，一次又一次地用力戳下去。但它们此刻都窜到了船头，一头接一头群涌而上，撕扯下大块大块的鱼肉。当它们扭头再来时，鱼肉在水里泛着光亮。

最后，又有一头朝大鱼头部冲过来，他知道一切都结束了。他挥着舵柄朝鲨鱼头打去，鲨鱼紧紧咬住厚实的鱼头，却始终扯不下来。老人抡起一次，两次，又一次。他听到舵柄断裂的声音，于是将断掉的把手朝鲨鱼刺过去。他感到舵柄刺了进去，知道它很锋利，于是又刺了进去。鲨鱼松开了口，打着滚游走了。那是来袭的鲨鱼群中的最后一头。它们再也没有什么可吃的了。

老人此时几乎无法呼吸，他感到嘴里有股怪味。那味道带着点黄铜味，又甜丝丝的，他一时有点儿担心。还好这种味道并不浓烈。

他朝海里啐了一口说道：“去吃吧，加拉诺鲨。做个梦吧，梦见你杀了一个人。”

他知道，他现在是终于被打败，无可挽回了。他回到了船尾，发现如锯齿般的舵柄一头正好可以安在船舵里用来掌舵。他把麻袋在肩膀披好，让小船回到原来的航线。此时他轻快地划着小船，毫无想法，毫无感觉。他如今已经超脱了一切，只想尽可能明智地好好驾着小船回家。夜间有鲨鱼来袭击大鱼的残骸，就像人们从餐桌上捡拾面包屑来吃一样。老人对它们毫不理睬，也不再理睬周围的一切，只是一心掌舵。他只留心到小船边没有附上沉重的东西，行驶得多么轻快。

船还好好的，他想。她完好无损，除了舵柄被弄坏了。不过这个容易更换。

他能感觉到小船已驶入湾流之中，还能看到沿岸海滨驻扎区内的灯光。他知道自己现在什么位置，回家是不成问题了。

不管怎样，风是我们的朋友，他想。继而他补充道，有时候是。还有大海，大海里有我们的朋友，也有我们的敌人。还有床，他想。床是我的朋友。只是床，他想。床会是个了不起的东西。当你被打败时，床是个很舒服的东西，他想。我从不知道它会有多舒服。什么将你打败了，他想。

“没什么，”他说出声来。“我不过是行驶到太远的地方了。”

当他驶入小小的码头，露台饭店的灯光全都熄灭了，他知道大家都上床睡觉了。微风渐渐刮大，现在吹得很猛烈了。然而码头还是很安静的，他把小船划到岩石下面一小滩卵石堆上。没人来帮他，他只好把小船尽可能往岸上多拖一点。接着他跨出船去，把它系在了岩石上。

他卸下桅杆，卷起帆，捆好。然后他扛起桅杆，开始往上爬。就在这时他才明白自己有多么的疲惫。他顿了顿，朝后望去，看到在街灯映衬的水中倒影里，大鱼硕大的尾巴在船尾后艄直竖着。他看到它裸露的脊骨像一条白线，那黑乎乎的头，还有那长长的尖嘴，除此之外，头尾之间一无所有。

他再次开始往上爬去，爬到岩石顶上时摔了一跤，他躺了一会儿，桅杆还横在肩上。他试着站起身来，但实在太过艰难，于是他坐着不动，肩上依旧扛着桅杆，朝街道望去。一只猫从路的另一边经过忙自己的事去了，老人一直注视着它。然后他呆呆地望着街道。

最终他把桅杆放下，站起身来。他捡起桅杆，放在肩膀上，开始顺着路走去。在到达小屋之前，他不得不五次坐下来休息。

进了小屋，他把桅杆靠在墙边。黑暗中他摸到一个水瓶，拿起来喝了一口。接着便躺在了床上。他拉起毯子，盖住肩膀、后背和双腿，然后脸朝下躺在报纸上，胳膊伸直，手掌朝上。

早上孩子朝门里看时，他正在熟睡中。风刮得正猛，漂网船是无法出海了，男孩起得很晚，像平时一样每天早上来老人的小屋看看。孩子发现老人在喘气，接着便看到了老人的双手，孩子开始哭了起来。他轻轻地走出去，去弄点儿咖啡。一路上他边走边哭。

很多渔夫都围着小船，看着船边绑着的家伙；有个人卷着裤腿，在水里，用线测量大鱼骨架的长度。

男孩没有下来看。他之前来过了，有个渔夫正在替他看着这条小船。

“他怎么样了？”其中一个渔夫朝他喊道。

“还在睡着，”男孩喊着说。他不介意别人看到他在哭。“谁也不要打扰他。”

“它从鼻子到尾巴足足有十八英尺，”测量大鱼的那个渔夫喊道。

“我信，”男孩说。

他走进露台饭店，要了一罐咖啡。

“要热的，多放点牛奶和糖。”

“还要别的吗？”

“不用了。待会我看看他能吃些什么。”

“多大的一条鱼啊，”饭店的老板说。“可从来没有过这样的鱼。你昨天捕到的那两条鱼也不错。”

“我那两条鱼，去他妈的，”男孩说。他又开始哭了起来。

“你想喝点什么吗？”饭店老板问他。

“不用了，”男孩说。“让他们不要去打扰圣地亚哥。我会再回来。”

“告诉他我为他感到难过。”

“谢谢，”男孩说。

男孩带着那罐热咖啡来到老人的小屋，坐在他身边，直到老人醒来。有一回看起来他似乎要醒了。但他又沉沉睡去了。于是男孩便到马路对面去借些柴火来加热咖啡。

老人终于醒了。

“别起来，”男孩说。“把这个喝了吧。”他往杯子里倒了些咖啡。

老人拿过来喝了。

“它们把我打败了，曼诺林，”他说。“它们真的把我打败了。”

“它没有打败你，大鱼可没有。”

“是啊，确实是。我是后来吃的败仗。”

“派德瑞克在照看着你的小船和渔具。你准备把那鱼头怎么办？”

“就让派德瑞克把它剁了做诱鱼的饵料吧。”

“那长长的尖嘴呢？”

“你要是想要就拿去吧。”

“我想要呢，”男孩说。“眼下咱们必须得安排一下其他的事情。”

“他们找过我吗？”

“当然了。出动了海岸警队和飞机呢。”

“海洋那么大，小船又那么小。很难找到的，”老人说。他发现不再自言自语或者只跟大海说话，而能跟人聊天是多么愉快的一件事。“我很想念你，”他说。“你都逮到了什么？”

“第一天一条，第二天一条，第三天两条。”

“那太好了。”

“现在咱们可以一起捕鱼了。”

“不行。我没有好运气。我不再有好运了。”“去他妈的运气，”男孩说。“我会带来好运的。”

“你家里人会怎么说？”

“我不在乎。昨天我逮到了两条鱼。不过咱们现在要一起捕鱼了，因为我要学的东西还很多。”

“咱们必须弄一支能刺死鱼的好长矛，一直放在船上。你可以用旧福特车上的弹簧片做刀片。我们可以拿到瓜纳瓦科阿去打磨。应该把它磨得锋利些，但不要用回火烧炼，不然会断裂。我的刀子就断了。”

“我再去弄把刀来，再拿弹簧片去打磨。这大风要刮多少天？”

“可能要刮上三天吧。或许更长。”

“我会把一切都安排好，”男孩说。“你要把手伤养好，老爷子。”

“我知道怎么照顾它们。夜里我吐出些奇怪的东西，感到胸膛里什么东西断了。”

“把那个也养好，”男孩说。“躺着吧，老大爷，我会给你拿干净的衬衫来，再带些吃的。”

“我不在这儿时的报纸，随便拿一份来。”老人说。

“你可得快点好起来，我要学得东西还有很多，你得把一切都教给我。你受了多少苦啊？”

“很多，”老人说。

“我会把吃的和报纸带过来，”男孩说。“好好休息，老爷子。我会从药店为你的手带点药。”

“别忘了告诉佩德瑞克那鱼头是他的了。”

“好的。我会记住的。”

男孩走出门，沿着被磨光的珊瑚石路上走着，又哭了起来。

下午时分，露台饭店来了一群游客。一个女人朝水里望去，在一堆空啤酒罐和死梭鱼堆里发现了一条又大又长的白色脊柱，尾端有条巨大的尾巴，当东风不断地在港口外掀起海浪时，那条大尾巴便随着海浪一起一伏，摇来摇去。

“那是什么？”她指着大鱼长长的脊椎问一个侍应生，如今这残骸已是垃圾，正等着随潮水漂向大海。

“鱼，”侍应生答道。“鲨鱼”。他打算解释一下所发生的事情。

“我不知道鲨鱼会有形状这么漂亮的尾巴。”

“我也不知道。”她的男伴说。

大路的前方，在那个小屋里，老人又一次睡着了。他依旧脸朝下熟睡着，男孩就坐在旁边，看着他。老人正梦到狮子。

The Old Man and the Sea

He was an old man who fished alone in a skiff in the Gulf Stream and he had gone eighty-four days now without taking a fish. In the first forty days a boy had been with him. But after forty days without a fish the boy's parents had told him that the old man was now definitely and finally salao， which is the worst form of unlucky， and the boy had gone at their orders in another boat which caught three good fish the first week. It made the boy sad to see the old man come in each day with his skiff empty and he always went down to help him carry either the coiled lines or the gaff and harpoon and the sail that was furled around the mast. The sail was patched with flour sacks and， furled， it looked like the flag of permanent defeat.

The old man was thin and gaunt with deep wrinkles in the back of his neck. The brown blotches of the benevolent skin cancer the sun brings from its reflection on the tropic sea were on his cheeks. The blotches ran well down the sides of his face and his hands had the deep-creased scars from handling heavy fish on the cords. But none of these scars were fresh. They were as old as erosions in a fishless desert.

Everything about him was old except his eyes and they were the same color as the sea and were cheerful and undefeated.

“Santiago，” the boy said to him as they climbed the bank from where the skiff was hauled up.“I could go with you again. We've made some money.”

The old man had taught the boy to fish and the boy loved him.

“No，” the old man said.“You're with a lucky boat. Stay with them.”

“But remember how you went eighty-seven days without fish and then we caught big ones every day for three weeks.”

“I remember，” the old man said.“I know you did not leave me because you doubted.”

“It was papa made me leave. I am a boy and I must obey him.”

“I know，” the old man said.“It is quite normal.”

“He hasn't much faith.”

“No，” the old man said.“But we have. Haven't we?”“Yes，” the boy said.“Can I offer you a beer on the Terrace and then we'll take the stuff home.”

“Why not?” the old man said，“Between fishermen.” They sat on the Terrace and many of the fishermen made fun of the old man and he was not angry. Others， of the older fishermen， looked at him and were sad. But they did not show it and they spoke politely about the current and the depths they had drifted their lines at and the steady good weather and of what they had seen. The successful fishermen of that day were already in and had butchered their marlin out and carried them laid full length across two planks， with two men staggering at the end of each plank， to the fish house where they waited for the ice truck to carry them to the market in Havana. Those who had caught sharks had taken them to the shark factory on the other side of the cove where they were hoisted on a block and tackle， their livers removed， their fins cut off and their hides skinned out and their flesh cut into strips for salting.

When the wind was in the east a smell came across the harbor from the shark factory; but today there was only the faint edge of the odor because the wind had backed into the north and then dropped off and it was pleasant and sunny on the Terrace.

“Santiago，” the boy said.

“Yes，” the old man said. He was holding his glass and thinking of many years ago.

“Can I go out to get sardines for you for tomorrow?”

“No. Go and play baseball. I can still row and Rogelio will throw the net.”

“I would like to go. If I cannot fish with you， I would like to serve in some way.”

“You bought me a beer，” the old man said.“You are already a man.”

“How old was I when you first took me in a boat?”

“Five and you nearly were killed when I brought the fish in too green and he nearly tore the boat to pieces. Can you remember?”

“I can remember the tail slapping and banging and the thwart breaking and the noise of the clubbing. I can remember you throwing me into the bow where the wet coiled lines were and feeling the whole boat shiver and the noise of you clubbing him like chopping a tree down and the sweet blood smell all over me.”

“Can you really remember that or did I just tell it to you?”

“I remember everything from when we first went together.”

The old man looked at him with his sun-burned， confident loving eyes.

“If you were my boy I'd take you out and gamble，” he said.“But you are your father's and your mother's and you are in a lucky boat.”

“May I get the sardines? I know where I can get four baits too.”

“I have mine left from today. I put them in salt in the box.”

“Let me get four fresh ones.”

“One，” the old man said. His hope and his confidence had never gone. But now they were freshening as when the breeze rises.

“Two，” the boy said.

“Two，” the old man agreed.“You didn't steal them?”

“I would，” the boy said.“But I bought these.”

“Thank you，” the old man said. He was too simple to wonder when he had attained humility. But he knew he had attained it and he knew it was not disgraceful and it carried no loss of true pride.“Tomorrow is going to be a good day with this current，” he said.

“Where are you going?” the boy asked.

“Far out to come in when the wind shifts. I want to be out before it is light.”

“I'll try to get him to work far out，” the boy said.“Then if you hook something truly big we can come to your aid.”

“He does not like to work too far out.”

“No，” the boy said.“But I will see something that he cannot see such as a bird working and get him to come out after dolphin.”

“Are his eyes that bad?”

“He is almost blind.”

“It is strange，” the old man said.“He never went turtle-ing. That is what kills the eyes.”

“But you went turtle-ing for years off the Mosquito Coast and your eyes are good.”

“I am a strange old man.”

“But are you strong enough now for a truly big fish?”

“I think so. And there are many tricks.”

“Let us take the stuff home，” the boy said.“So I can get the cast net and go after the sardines.”

They picked up the gear from the boat. The old man carried the mast on his shoulder and the boy carried the wooden box with the coiled， hard-braided brown lines， the gaff and the harpoon with its shaft. The box with the baits was under the stern of the skiff along with the club that was used to subdue the big fish when they were brought alongside. No one would steal from the old man but it was better to take the sail and the heavy lines home as the dew was bad for them and， though he was quite sure no local people would steal from him， the old man thought that a gaff and a harpoon were needless temptations to leave in a boat.

They walked up the road together to the old man's shack and went in through its open door. The old man leaned the mast with its wrapped sail against the wall and the boy put the box and the other gear beside it. The mast was nearly as long as the one room of the shack. The shack was made of the tough budshields of the royal palm which are called guano and in it there was a bed， a table， one chair and a place on the dirt floor to cook with charcoal. On the brown walls of the flattened， overlapping leaves of the sturdy fibered guano there was a picture in color of the Sacred Heart of Jesus and another of the Virgin of Cobre. These were relics of his wife. Once there had been a tinted photograph of his wife on the wall but he had taken it down because it made him too lonely to see it and it was on the shelf in the corner under his clean shirt.

“What do you have to eat?” the boy asked.

“A pot of yellow rice with fish. Do you want some?”

“No. I will eat at home. Do you want me to make the fire?”

“No. I will make it later on. Or I may eat the rice cold.”

“May I take the cast net?”

“Of course.”

There was no cast net and the boy remembered when they had sold it. But they went through this fiction every day. There was no pot of yellow rice and fish and the boy knew this too.

“Eighty-five is a lucky number，” the old man said.“How would you like to see me bring one in that dressed out over a thousand pounds?”

“I'll get the cast net and go for sardines. Will you sit in the sun in the doorway?”

“Yes. I have yesterday's paper and I will read the baseball.”

The boy did not know whether yesterday's paper was a fiction too. But the old man brought it out from under the bed.

“Perico gave it to me at the bodega，” he explained.

“I'll be back when I have the sardines. I'll keep yours and mine together on ice and we can share them in the morning. When I come back you can tell me about the baseball.”

“The Yankees cannot lose.”

“But I fear the Indians of Cleveland.”

“Have faith in the Yankees my son. Think of the great DiMaggio.”

“I fear both the Tigers of Detroit and the Indians of Cleveland.”

“Be careful or you will fear even the Reds of Cincinnati and the White Sox of Chicago.”

“You study it and tell me when I come back.”

“Do you think we should buy a terminal of the lottery with an eighty-five? Tomorrow is the eighty-fifth day.”

“We can do that，” the boy said.“But what about the eighty-seven of your great record?”

“It could not happen twice. Do you think you can find an eighty-five?”

“I can order one.”

“One sheet. That's two dollars and a half. Who can we borrow that from?”

“That's easy. I can always borrow two dollars and a half.”

“I think perhaps I can too. But I try not to borrow. First you borrow. Then you beg.”

“Keep warm old man，” the boy said.“Remember we are in September.”

“The month when the great fish come，” the old man said.“Anyone can be a fisherman in May.”

“I go now for the sardines，” the boy said.

When the boy came back the old man was asleep in the chair and the sun was down. The boy took the old army blanket off the bed and spread it over the back of the chair and over the old man's shoulders. They were strange shoulders， still powerful although very old， and the neck was still strong too and the creases did not show so much when the old man was asleep and his head fallen forward. His shirt had been patched so many times that it was like the sail and the patches were faded to many different shades by the sun. The old man's head was very old though and with his eyes closed there was no life in his face. The newspaper lay across his knees and the weight of his arm held it there in the evening breeze. He was barefooted.

The boy left him there and when he came back the old man was still asleep.

“Wake up old man，” the boy said and put his hand on one of the old man's knees.

The old man opened his eyes and for a moment he was coming back from a long way away. Then he smiled.

“What have you got?” he asked.

“Supper，” said the boy.“We're going to have supper.”

“I'm not very hungry.”

“Come on and eat. You can't fish and not eat. ”

“I have，” the old man said getting up and taking the newspaper and folding it. Then he started to fold the blanket.

“Keep the blanket around you，” the boy said.“You'll not fish without eating while I'm alive.”

“Then live a long time and take care of yourself，” the old man said，“What are we eating?”

“Black beans and rice， fried bananas， and some stew.”

The boy had brought them in a two-decker metal container from the Terrace. The two sets of knives and forks and spoons were in his pocket with a paper napkin wrapped around each set.

“Who gave this to you?”

“Martin. The owner.”

“I must thank him.”

“I thanked him already，” the boy said.“You don't need to thank him.”

“I'll give him the belly meat of a big fish，” the old man said.“Has he done this for us more than once?”

“I think so.”

“I must give him something more than the belly meat then. He is very thoughtful for us.”

“He sent two beers.”

“I like the beer in cans best.”

“I know. But this is in bottles， Hatuey beer， and I take back the bottles.”

“That's very kind of you，” the old man said.“Should we eat?”

“I've been asking you to，” the boy told him gently.“I have not wished to open the container until you were ready.”

“I'm ready now，” the old man said.“I only needed time to wash.”

Where did you wash? The boy thought. The village water supply was two streets down the road. I must have water here for him， the boy thought， and soap and a good towel. Why am I so thoughtless? I must get him another shirt and a jacket for the winter and some sort of shoes and another blanket.

“Your stew is excellent，” the old man said.

“Tell me about the baseball，” the boy asked him.

“In the American League it is the Yankees as I said，” the old man said happily.

“They lost today，” the boy told him.

“That means nothing. The great DiMaggio is himself again.”

“They have other men on the team.”

“Naturally. But he makes the difference. In the other league， between Brooklyn and Philadelphia I must take Brooklyn. But then I think of Dick Sisler and those great drives in the old park.”

“There was nothing ever like them. He hits the longest ball I have ever seen.”

“Do you remember when he used to come to the Terrace? I wanted to take him fishing but I was too timid to ask him. Then I asked you to ask him and you were too timid.”

“I know. It was a great mistake. He might have gone with us. Then we would have that for all of our lives.”

“I would like to take the great DiMaggio fishing，” the old man said.“They say his father was a fisherman. Maybe he was as poor as we are and would understand.”

“The great Sisler's father was never poor and he， the father， was playing in the Big Leagues when he was my age.”

“When I was your age I was before the mast on a square rigged ship that ran to Africa and I have seen lions on the beaches in the evening.”

“I know. You told me.”

“Should we talk about Africa or about baseball?”

“Baseball I think，” the boy said.“Tell me about the great John J. McGraw.” He said Jota for J.

“He used to come to the Terrace sometimes too in the older days. But he was rough and harsh-spoken and difficult when he was drinking. His mind was on horses as well as baseball. At least he carried lists of horses at all times in his pocket and frequently spoke the names of horses on the telephone.”

“He was a great manager，” the boy said.“My father thinks he was the greatest.”

“Because he came here the most times，” the old man said.“If Durocher had continued to come here each year your father would think him the greatest manager.”

“Who is the greatest manager， really， Luque or Mike Gonzalez?”

“I think they are equal.”

“And the best fisherman is you.”

“No. I know others better.”

“Que va，” the boy said.“There are many good fishermen and some great ones. But there is only you.”

“Thank you. You make me happy. I hope no fish will come along so great that he will prove us wrong. ”

“There is no such fish if you are still strong as you say.”

“I may not be as strong as I think，” the old man said.“But I know many tricks and I have resolution.”

“You ought to go to bed now so that you will be fresh in the morning. I will take the things back to the Terrace.”

Good night then. I'll wake you in the morning.

“You're my alarm clock.” the boy said.

“Age is my alarm clock，” the old man said.“Why do old men wake so early? Is it to have one longer day?”

“I don't know， the boy said. All I know is that young boys sleep late and hard.”

“I can remember it，” the old man said.“I'll waken you in time.”

“I do not like for him to waken me. It is as though I were inferior.”

“I know.”

“Sleep well old man.”

The boy went out. They had eaten with no light on the table and the old man took off his trousers and went to bed in the dark. He rolled his trousers up to make a pillow， putting the newspaper inside them. He rolled himself in the blanket and slept on the other old newspapers that covered the springs of the bed.

He was asleep in a short time and he dreamed of Africa when he was a boy and the long golden beaches and the white beaches， so white they hurt your eyes， and the high capes and the great brown mountains. He lived along that coast now every night and in his dreams he heard the surf roar and saw the native boats come riding through it. He smelled the tar and oakum of the deck as he slept and he smelled the smell of Africa that the land breeze brought at morning.

Usually when he smelled the land breeze he woke up and dressed to go and wake the boy. But tonight the smell of the land breeze came very early and he knew it was too early in his dream and went on dreaming to see the white peaks of the Islands rising from the sea and then he dreamed of the different harbors and roadsteads of the Canary Islands.

He no longer dreamed of storms， nor of women， nor of great occurrences， nor of great fish， nor fights， nor contests of strength， nor of his wife. He only dreamed of places now and of the lions on the beach. They played like young cats in the dusk and he loved them as he loved the boy. He never dreamed about the boy. He simply woke， looked out the open door at the moon and unrolled his trousers and put them on. He urinated outside the shack and then went up the road to wake the boy. He was shivering with the morning cold. But he knew he would shiver himself warm and that soon he would be rowing.

The door of the house where the boy lived was unlocked and he opened it and walked in quietly with his bare feet. The boy was asleep on a cot in the first room and the old man could see him clearly with the light that came in from the dying moon. He took hold of one foot gently and held it until the boy woke and turned and looked at him. The old man nodded and the boy took his trousers from the chair by the bed and， sitting on the bed， pulled them on.

The old man went out the door and the boy came after him. He was sleepy and the old man put his arm across his shoulders and said，“I am sorry.”

“Que'va，” the boy said.“It is what a man must do.”

They walked down the road to the old man's shack and all along the road， in the dark， barefoot men were moving， carrying the masts of their boats.

When they reached the old man's shack the boy took the rolls of line in the basket and the harpoon and gaff and the old man carried the mast with the furled sail on his shoulder.

“Do you want coffee?” the boy asked.

“We'll put the gear in the boat and then get some.”

They had coffee from condensed milk cans at an early morning place that served fishermen.

“How did you sleep old man?” the boy asked. He was waking up now although it was still hard for him to leave his sleep.

“Very well， Manolin，” the old man said.“I feel confident today.”

“So do I，” the boy said.“Now I must get your sardines and mine and your fish baits. He brings our gear himself. He never wants anyone to carry anything.”

“We're different，” the old man said.“I let you carry things when you were five years old.”

“I know it，” the boy said.“I'll be right back. Have another coffee. We have credit here.”

He walked off， bare-footed on the coral rocks， to the ice house where the baits were stored.

The old man drank his coffee slowly. It was all he would have all day and he knew that he should take it. For a long time now eating had bored him and he never carried a lunch. He had a bottle of water in the bow of the skiff and that was all he needed for the day.

The boy was back now with the sardines and the two baits wrapped in a newspaper and they went down the trail to the skiff， feeling the pebbled sand under their feet， and lifted the skiff and slid her into the water.

“Good luck old man.”

“Good luck，” the old man said. He fitted the rope lashings of the oars onto the thole pins and， leaning forward against the thrust of the blades in the water， he began to row out of the harbor in the dark. There were other boats from the other beaches going out to sea and the old man heard the dip and push of their oars even though he could not see them now the moon was below the hills.

Sometimes someone would speak in a boat. But most of the boats were silent except for the dip of the oars. They spread apart after they were out of the mouth of the harbor and each one headed for the part of the ocean where he hoped to find fish. The old man knew he was going far out and he left the smell of the land behind and rowed out into the clean early morning smell of the ocean. He saw the phosphorescence of the Gulf weed in the water as he rowed over the part of the ocean that the fishermen called the great well because there was a sudden deep of seven hundred fathoms where all sorts of fish congregated because of the swirl the current made against the steep walls of the flour of the ocean. Here there were concentrations of shrimp and baitfish and sometimes schools of squid in the deepest holes and these rose close to the surface at night where all the wandering fish fed on them.

In the dark the old man could feel the morning coming and as he rowed he heard the trembling sound as flying fish left the water and the hissing that their stiff set wings made as they soared away in the darkness. He was very fond of flying fish as they were his principal friends on the ocean. He was sorry for the birds， especially the small delicate dark terns that were always flying and looking and almost never finding， and he thought， the birds have a harder life than we do except for the robber birds and the heavy strong ones. Why did they make birds so delicate and fine as those sea swallows when the ocean can be so cruel? She is kind and very beautiful. But she can be so cruel and it comes so suddenly and such birds that fly， dipping and hunting， with their small sad voices are made too delicately for the sea.

He always thought of the sea as la mar which is what people call her in Spanish when they love her. Sometimes those who love her say bad things of her but they are always said as though she were a woman. Some of the younger fishermen， those who used buoys as floats for their lines and had motorboats， bought when the shark livers had brought much money， spoke of her as el mar which is masculine. They spoke of her as a contestant or a place or even an enemy. But the old man always thought of her as feminine and as something that gave or withheld great favors， and if she did wild or wicked things it was because she could not help them. The moon affects her as it does a woman， he thought.

He was rowing steadily and it was no effort for him since he kept well within his speed and the surface of the ocean was flat except for the occasional swirls of the current. He was letting the current do a third of the work and as it started to be light he saw he was already further out than he had hoped to be at this hour. I worked the deep wells for a week and did nothing， he thought. Today I'll work out where the schools of bonito and albacore are and maybe there will be a big one with them.

Before it was really light he had his baits out and was drifting with the current. One bait was down forty fathoms. The second was at seventy-five and the third and fourth were down in the blue water at one hundred and one hundred and twenty-five fathoms. Each bait hung head down with the shank of the hook inside the bait fish， tied and sewed solid and all the projecting part of the hook， the curve and the point， was covered with fresh sardines. Each sardine was hooked through both eyes so that they made a half-garland on the projecting steel. There was no part of the hook that a great fish could feel which was not sweet smelling and good tasting.

The boy had given him two fresh small tunas， or albacores， which hung on the two deepest lines like plummets and， on the others， he had a big blue runner and a yellow jack that had been used before; but they were in good condition still and had the excellent sardines to give them scent and attractiveness. Each line， as thick around as a big pencil， was looped onto a green-sapped stick so that any pull or touch on the bait would make the stick dip and each line had two forty-fathom coils which could be made fast to the other spare coils so that， if it were necessary， a fish could take out over three hundred fathoms of line.

Now the man watched the dip of the three sticks over the side of the skiff and rowed gently to keep the lines straight up and down and at their proper depths. It was quite light and any moment now the sun would rise.

The sun rose thinly from the sea and the old man could see the other boats， low on the water and well in toward the shore， spread out across the current. Then the sun was brighter and the glare came on the water and then， as it rose clear， the flat sea sent it back at his eyes so that it hurt sharply and he rowed without looking into it. He looked down into the water and watched the lines that went straight down into the dark of the water. He kept them straighter than anyone did， so that at each level in the darkness of the stream there would be a bait waiting exactly where he wished it to be for any fish that swam there. Others let them drift with the current and sometimes they were at sixty fathoms when the fishermen thought they were at a hundred.

But， he thought， I keep them with precision. Only I have no luck any more. But who knows? Maybe today. Every day is a new day. It is better to be lucky. But I would rather be exact. Then when luck comes you are ready.

The sun was two hours higher now and it did not hurt his eyes so much to look into the east. There were only three boats in sight now and they showed very low and far inshore.

All my life the early sun has hurt my eyes， he thought. Yet they are still good. In the evening I can look straight into it without getting the blackness. It has more force in the evening too. But in the morning it is painful.

Just then he saw a man-of-war bird with his long black wings circling in the sky ahead of him. He made a quick drop， slanting down on his back-swept wings， and then circled again.

“He's got something，” the old man said aloud.“He's not just looking.”

He rowed slowly and steadily toward where the bird was circling. He did not hurry and he kept his lines straight up and down. But he crowded the current a little so that he was still fishing correctly though faster than he would have fished if he was not trying to use the bird.

The bird went higher in the air and circled again， his wings motionless. Then he dove suddenly and the old man saw flying fish spurt out of the water and sail desperately over the surface.

“Dolphin，” the old man said aloud.“Big dolphin.”

He shipped his oars and brought a small line from under the bow. It had a wire leader and a medium-sized hook and he baited it with one of the sardines. He let it go over the side and then made it fast to a ring bolt in the stern. Then he baited another line and left it coiled in the shade of the bow. He went back to rowing and to watching the long-winged black bird who was working， now， low over the water.

As he watched the bird dipped again slanting his wings for the dive and then swinging them wildly and ineffectually as he followed the flying fish. The old man could see the slight bulge in the water that the big dolphin raised as they followed the escaping fish. The dolphins were cutting through the water below the flight of the fish and would be in the water， driving at speed， when the fish dropped. It is a big school of dolphin， he thought. They are widespread and the flying fish have little chance. The bird has no chance. The flying fish are too big for him and they go too fast.

He watched the flying fish burst out again and again and the ineffectual movements of the bird. That school has gotten away from me， he thought. They are moving out too fast and too far. But perhaps I will pick up a stray and perhaps my big fish is around them. My big fish must be somewhere.

The clouds over the land now rose like mountains and the coast was only a long green line with the gray blue hills behind it. The water was a dark blue now， so dark that it was almost purple. As he looked down into it he saw the red sifting of the plankton in the dark water and the strange light the sun made now. He watched his lines to see them go straight down out of sight into the water and he was happy to see so much plankton because it meant fish. The strange light the sun made in the water， now that the sun was higher， meant good weather and so did the shape of the clouds over the land. But the bird was almost out of sight now and nothing showed on the surface of the water but some patches of yellow， sun-bleached Sargasso weed and the purple， formalized， iridescent， gelatinous bladder of a Portuguese man of war floating close beside the boat. It turned on its side and then righted itself. It floated cheerfully as a bubble with its long deadly purple filaments trailing a yard behind it in the water.

“Aqua mala，” the man said.“You whore.”From where he swung lightly against his oars he looked down into the water and saw the tiny fish that were colored like the trailing filaments and swam between them and under the small shade the bubble made as it drifted. They were immune to its poison. But men were not and when some of the filaments would catch on a line and rest there slimy and purple while the old man was working a fish， he would have welts and sores on his arms and hands of the sort that poison ivy or poison oak ran give. But these poisonings from the agua mala came quickly and struck like a whiplash.

The iridescent bubbles were beautiful. But they were the falsest thing in the sea and the old man loved to see the big sea turtles eating them. The turtles saw them， approached them from the front， then shut their eyes so they were completely carapaced and ate them filaments and all. The old man loved to see the turtles eat them and he loved to walk on them on the beach after a storm and hear them pop when he stepped on them with the horny soles of his feet.

He loved green turtles and hawk-bills with their elegance and speed and their great value and he had a friendly contempt for the huge， stupid loggerheads， yellow in their armor-plating， strange in their love-making， and happily eating the Portuguese men-of-war with their eyes shut.

He had no mysticism about turtles although he had gone in turtle boats for many years. He was sorry for them all， even the great trunk backs that were as long as the skiff and weighed a ton. Most people are heartless about turtles because a turtle's heart will beat for hours after he has been cut up and butchered. But the old man thought， I have such a heart too and my feet and hands are like theirs. He ate the white eggs to give himself strength. He ate them all through May to be strong in September and October for the truly big fish.

He also drank a cup of shark liver oil each day from the big drum in the shack where many of the fishermen kept their gear. It was there for all fishermen who wanted it. Most fishermen hated the taste but it was no worse than getting up at the hours that they rose and it was very good against all colds and grippes and it was good for the eyes.

Now the old man looked up and saw that the bird was circling again.

“He's found fish，” he said aloud. No flying fish broke the surface and there was no scattering of bait fish. But as the old man watched， a small tuna rose in the air， turned and dropped head first into the water. The tuna shone silver in the sun and after he had dropped back into the water another and another rose and they were jumping in all directions， churning the water and leaping in long jumps after the bait. They were circling it and driving it.

If they don't travel too fast I will get into them， the old man thought， and he watched the school working the water white and the bird now dropping and dipping into the bait fish that were forced to the surface in their panic.

“The bird is a great help，” the old man said. Just then the stern line came taut under his foot， where he had kept a loop of the line， and he dropped his oars and felt the weight of the small tuna's shivering pull as he held the line firm and commenced to haul it in. The shivering increased as he pulled in and he could see the blue back of the fish in the water and the gold of his sides before he swung him over the side and into the boat. He lay in the stern in the sun， compact and bullet shaped， his big， unintelligent eyes staring as he thumped his life out against the planking of the boat with the quick shivering strokes of his neat， fast-moving tail. The old man hit him on the head for kindness and kicked him， his body still shuddering， under the shade of the stern.

“Albacore，” he said aloud.“He'll make a beautiful bait. He'll weigh ten pounds.”

He did not remember when he had first started to talk aloud when he was by himself. He had sung when he was by himself in the old days and he had sung at night sometimes when he was alone steering on his watch in the smacks or in the turtle boats. He had probably stared to talk aloud， when alone， when the boy had left. But he did not remember. When he and the boy fished together they usually spoke only when it was necessary. They talked at night or when they were storm-bound by bad weather. It was considered a virtue not to talk unnecessarily at sea and the old man had always considered it so and respected it. But now he said his thoughts aloud many times since there was no one that they could annoy.

“If the others heard me talking out loud they would think that I am crazy，” he said aloud.“But since I am not crazy， I do not care. And the rich have radios to talk to them in their boats and to bring them the baseball.”

Now is no time to think of baseball， he thought. Now is the time to think of only one thing. That which I was born for. There might be a big one around that school， he thought. I picked up only a straggler from the albacore that were feeding. But they are working far out and fast. Everything that shows on the surface today travels very fast and to the northeast. Can that be the time of day? Or is it some sign of weather that I do not know?

He could not see the green of the shore now but only the tops of the blue hills that showed white as though they were snowcapped and the clouds that looked like high snow mountains above them. The sea was very dark and the light made prisms in the water. The myriad flecks of the plankton were annulled now by the high sun and it was only the great deep prisms in the blue water that the old man saw now with his lines going straight down into the water that was a mile deep.

The tuna， the fishermen called all the fish of that species tuna and only distinguished among them by their proper names when they came to sell them or to trade them for baits， were down again. The sun was hot now and the old man felt it on the back of his neck and felt the sweat trickle down his back as he rowed.

I could just drift， he thought， and sleep and put a bight of line around my toe to wake me. But today is eighty-five days and I should fish the day well.

Just then， watching his lines， he saw one of the projecting green sticks dip sharply.

“Yes，” he said.“Yes，” and shipped his oars without bumping the boat. He reached out for the line and held it softly between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. He felt no strain nor weight and he held the line lightly. Then it came again. This time it was a tentative pull， not solid nor heavy， and he knew exactly what it was. One hundred fathoms down a marlin was eating the sardines that covered the point and the shank of the hook where the hand-forged hook projected from the head of the small tuna.

The old man held the line delicately， and softly， with his left hand， unleashed it from the stick. Now he could let it run through his fingers without the fish feeling any tension.

This far out， he must be huge in this month， he thought. Eat them， fish. Eat them. Please eat them.

How fresh they are and you down there six hundred feet in that cold water in the dark. Make another turn in the dark and come back and eat them.

He felt the light delicate pulling and then a harder pull when a sardine's head must have been more difficult to break from the hook. Then there was nothing.

“Come on，” the old man said aloud.“Make another turn. Just smell them. Aren't they lovely? Eat them good now and then there is the tuna. Hard and cold and lovely. Don't be shy， fish. Eat them.”

He waited with the line between his thumb and his finger， watching it and the other lines at the same time for the fish might have swum up or down. Then came the same delicate pulling touch again.

“He'll take it，” the old man said aloud.“God help him to take it.”

He did not take it though. He was gone and the old man felt nothing.

“He can't have gone，” he said.“Christ knows he can't have gone. He's making a turn. Maybe he has been hooked before and he remembers something of it.”

Then he felt the gentle touch on the line and he was happy.

“It was only his turn，” he said.“He'll take it.”

He was happy feeling the gentle pulling and then he felt something hard and unbelievably heavy. It was the weight of the fish and he let the line slip down， down， down， unrolling off the first of the two reserve coils. As it went down， slipping lightly through the old man's fingers， he still could feel the great weight， though the pressure of his thumb and finger were almost imperceptible.

“What a fish，” he said.“He has it sideways in his mouth now and he is moving off with it.”

Then he will turn and swallow it， he thought. He did not say that because he knew that if you said a good thing it might not happen. He knew what a huge fish this was and he thought of him moving away in the darkness with the tuna held crosswise in his mouth. At that moment he felt him stop moving but the weight was still there. Then the weight increased and he gave more line. He tightened the pressure of his thumb and finger for a moment and the weight increased and was going straight down.

“He's taken it，” he said.“Now I'll let him eat it well.”

He let the line slip through his fingers while he reached down with his left hand and made fast the free end of the two reserve coils to the loop of the two reserve coils of the next line. New he was ready. He had three forty fathom coils of line in reserve now， as well as the coil he was using.

“Eat it a little more，” he said.“Eat it well.”

Eat it so that the point of the hook goes into your heart and kills you， he thought. Come up easy and let me put the harpoon into you. All right. Are you ready? Have you been long enough at table?

“Now!” he said aloud and struck hard with both hands， gained a yard of line and then struck again and again， swinging with each arm alternately on the cord with all the strength of his arms and the pivoted weight of his body.

Nothing happened. The fish just moved away slowly and the old man could not raise him an inch. His line was strong and made for heavy fish and he held it against his back until it was so taut that beads of water were jumping from it. Then it began to make a slow hissing sound in the water and he still held it， bracing himself against the thwart and leaning back against the pull. The boat began to move slowly off toward the northwest.

The fish moved steadily and they travelled slowly on the calm water. The other baits were still in the water but there was nothing to be done.

“I wish I had the boy，” the old man said aloud.“I'm being towed by a fish and I'm the towing bit. I could make the line fast. But then he could break it. I must hold him all I can and give him line when he must have it. Thank God he is travelling and not going down.”

What I will do if he decides to go down， I don't know. What I'll do if he sounds and dies I don't know. But I'll do something. There are plenty of things I can do.

He held the line against his back and watched its slant in the water and the skiff moving steadily to the northwest.

This will kill him， the old man thought. He can't do this forever. But four hours later the fish was still swimming steadily out to sea， towing the skiff， and the old man was still braced solidly with the line across his back.

“It was noon when I hooked him，” he said.“And I have never seen him.”

He had pushed his straw hat hard down on his head before he hooked the fish and it was cutting his forehead. He was thirsty too and he got down on his knees and， being careful not to jerk on the line， moved as far into the bow as he could get and reached the water bottle with one hand. He opened it and drank a little. Then he rested against the bow. He rested sitting on the un-stepped mast and sail and tried not to think but only to endure.

Then he looked behind him and saw that no land was visible. That makes no difference， he thought. I can always come in on the glow from Havana. There are two more hours before the sunsets and maybe he will come up before that. If he doesn't maybe he will come up with the moon. If he does not do that maybe he will come up with the sunrise. I have no cramps and I feel strong. It is he that has the hook in his mouth. But what a fish to pull like that. He must have his mouth shut tight on the wire. I wish I could see him. I wish I could see him only once to know what I have against me.

The fish never changed his course nor his direction all that night as far as the man could tell from watching the stars. It was cold after the sun went down and the old man's sweat dried cold on his back and his arms and his old legs. During the day he had taken the sack that covered the bait box and spread it in the sun to dry. After the sun went down he tied it around his neck so that it hund down over his back and he cautiously worked it down under the line that was across his shoulders now. The sack cushioned the line and he had found a way of leaning forward against the bow so that he was almost comfortable. The position actually was only somewhat less intolerable; but he thought of it as almost comfortable.

I can do nothing with him and he can do nothing with me， he thought. Not as long as he keeps this up.

Once he stood up and urinated over the side of the skiff and looked at the stars and checked his course. The line showed like a photographer streak in the water straight out from his shoulders. They were moving more slowly now and the glow of Havana was not so strong， so that he knew the current must be carrying them to the eastward. If I lose the glare of Havana we must be going more to the eastward， he thought. For if the fish's course held true I must see it for many more hours. I wonder how the baseball came out in the grand leagues today， he thought. It would be wonderful to do this with a radio. Then he thought， think of it always. Think of what you are doing. You must do nothing stupid. Then he said aloud，“I wish I had the boy. To help me and to see this.”

No one should be alone in their old age， he thought. But it is unavoidable. I must remember to eat the tuna before he spoils in order to keep strong. Remember， no matter how little you want to， that you must eat him in the morning. Remember， he said to himself.

During the night two porpoises came around the boat and he could hear them rolling and blowing. He could tell the difference between the blowing noise the male made and the sighing blow of the female.“They are good，” he said.“They play and make jokes and love one another. They are our brothers like the flying fish.”

Then he began to pity the great fish that he had hooked. He is wonderful and strange and who knows how old he is， he thought. Never have I had such a strong fish nor one who acted so strangely. Perhaps he is too wise to jump. He could ruin me by jumping or by a wild rush. But perhaps he has been hooked many times before and he knows that this is how he should make his fight. He cannot know that it is only one man against him， nor that it is an old man. But what great fish he is and what will he bring in the markets if the flesh is good. He took the bait like a male and he pulls like a male and his fight has no panic in it. I wonder if he has any plans or if he is just as desperate as I am?

He remembered the time he had hooked one of a pair of marlin. The male fish always let the female fish feed first and the hooked fish， the female， made a wild， panic-stricken， despairing fight that soon exhausted her， and all the time the male had stayed with her， crossing the line and circling with her on the surface. He had stayed so close that the old man was afraid he would cut the line with his tail which was sharp as a scythe and almost of that size and shape. When the old man had gaffed her and clubbed her， holding the rapier bill with its sandpaper edge and clubbing her across the top of her head until her color turned to a color almost like the backing of mirrors， and then， with the boy's aid， hoisted her aboard， the male fish had stayed by the side of the boat. Then， while the old man was clearing the lines and preparing the harpoon， the male fish jumped high into the air beside the boat to see where the female was and then went down deep， his lavender wings， that were his pectoral fins， spread wide and all his wide lavender stripes showing. He was beautiful， the old man remembered， and he had stayed.

That was the saddest thing I ever saw with them， the old man thought. The boy was sad too and we begged her pardon and butchered her promptly.

“I wish the boy was here，” he said aloud and settled himself against the rounded planks of the bow and felt the strength of the great fish through the line he held across his shoulders moving steadily toward whatever he had chosen.

When once， through my treachery， it had been necessary to him to make a choice， the old man thought.

His choice had been to stay in the deep dark water far out beyond all snares and traps and treacheries. My choice was to go there to find him beyond all people. Beyond all people in the world. Now we are joined together and have been since noon. And no one to help either one of us.

Perhaps I should not have been a fisherman， he thought. But that was the thing that I was born for. I must surely remember to eat the tuna after it gets light.

Some time before daylight something took one of the baits that were behind him. He heard the stick break and the line begin to rush out over the gunwale of the skiff. In the darkness he loosened his sheath knife and taking all the strain of the fish on his left shoulder he leaned back and cut the line against the wood of the gunwale. Then he cut the other line closest to him and in the dark made the loose ends of the reserve coils fast. He worked skillfully with the one hand and put his foot on the coils to hold them as he drew his knots tight. Now he had six reserve coils of line. There were two from each bait he had severed and the two from the bait the fish had taken and they were all connected.

After it is light， he thought， I will work back to the forty-fathom bait and cut it away too and link up the reserve coils. I will have lost two hundred fathoms of good Catalan cardel and the hooks and leaders. That can be replaced. But who replaces this fish if I hook some fish and it cuts him off? I don't know what that fish was that took the bait just now. It could have been a marlin or a broadtail or a shark. I never felt him. I had to get rid of him too fast. Aloud he said，“I wish I had the boy.”

But you haven't got the boy， he thought. You have only yourself and you had better work back to the last line now， in the dark or not in the dark， and cut it away and hook up the two reserve coils.

So he did it. It was difficult in the dark and once the fish made a surge that pulled him down on his face and made a cut below his eye. The blood ran down his cheek a little way. But it coagulated and dried before it reached his chin and he worked his way back to the bow and rested against the wood. He adjusted the sack and carefully worked the line so that it came across a new part of his shoulders and， holding it anchored with his shoulders， he carefully felt the pull of the fish and then felt with his hand the progress of the skiff through the water.

I wonder what he made that lurch for， he thought. The wire must have slipped on the great hill of his back. Certainly his back cannot feel as badly as mine does. But he cannot pull this skiff forever， no matter how great he is. Now everything is cleared away that might make trouble and I have a big reserve of line; all that a man can ask.

“Fish，” he said softly， aloud，“I'll stay with you until I am dead.”

He'll stay with me too， I suppose， the old man thought and he waited for it to be light. It was cold now in the time before daylight and he pushed against the wood to be warm. I can do it as long as he can， he thought. And in the first light the line extended out and down into the water. The boat moved steadily and when the first edge of the sun rose it was on the old man's right shoulder.

“He's headed north，” the old man said. The current will have set us far to the eastward， he thought. I wish he would turn with the current. That would show that he was tiring.

When the sun had risen further the old man realized that the fish was not tiring. There was only one favorable sign. The slant of the line showed he was swimming at a lesser depth. That did not necessarily mean that he would jump. But he might.

“God let him jump，” the old man said.“I have enough line to handle him.”

Maybe if I can increase the tension just a little it will hurt him and he will jump， he thought. Now that it is daylight let him jump so that he'll fill the sacks along his backbone with air and then he cannot go deep to die.

He tired to increase the tension， but the line had been taut up to the very edge of the breaking point since he had hooked the fish and he felt the harshness as he leaned back to pull and knew he could put no more strain on it. I must not jerk it ever， he though. Each jerk widens the cut the hook makes and then when he does jump he might throw it. Anyway I feel better with the sun and for once I do not have to look into it.

There was yellow weed on the line but the old man knew that only made an added drag and he was pleased. It was the yellow Gulf weed that had made so much phosphorescence in the night.

“Fish，” he said.“I love you and respect you very much. But I will kill you dead before this day ends.” Let us hope so， he thought.

A small bird came toward the skiff from the north. He was a warbler and flying very low over the water. The old man could see that he was very tired.

The bird made the stern of the boat and rested there. Then he flew around the old man's head and rested on the line where he was more comfortable.

“How old are you?” the old man asked the bird.“Is this your first trip?”

The bird looked at him when he spoke. He was too tired even to examine the line and he teetered on it as his delicate feet gripped it fast.

“It's steady，” the old man told him.“It's too steady. You shouldn't be that tired after a windless night. What are birds coming to?”

The hawks， he thought， that come out to sea to meet them. But he said nothing of this to the bird who could not understand him anyway and who would learn about the hawks soon enough.“Take a good rest， small bird，” he said.“Then go in and take your chance like any man or bird or fish.”

It encouraged him to talk because his back had stiffened in the night and it hurt truly now.

“Stay at my house if you like， bird，” he said.“I am sorry I cannot hoist the sail and take you in with the small breeze that is rising. But I am with a friend.”

Just then the fish gave a sudden lurch that pulled the old man down onto the bow and would have pulled him overboard if he had not braced himself and given some line.

The bird had flown up when the line jerked and the old man had not even seen him go. He felt the line carefully with his right hand and noticed his hand was bleeding.

“Something hurt him then，” he said aloud and pulled back on the line to see if he could turn the fish. But when he was touching the breaking point he held steady and settled back against the strain of the line.

“You're feeling it now， fish，” he said.“And so， God knows， am I.”

He looked around for the bird now because he would have liked him for company. The bird was gone.

You did not stay long， the man thought. But it is rougher where you are going until you make the shore. How did I let the fish cut me with that one quick pull he made? I must be getting very stupid. Or perhaps I was looking at the small bird and thinking of him. Now I will pay attention to my work and then I must eat the tuna so that I will not have a failure of strength.

“I wish the boy were here and that I had some salt，” he said aloud.

Shifting the weight of the line to his left shoulder and kneeling carefully he washed his hand in the ocean and held it there， submerged， for more than a minute watching the blood trail away and the steady movement of the water against his hand as the boat moved.

“He has slowed much，” he said.

The old man would have liked to keep his hand in the salt water longer but he was afraid of another sudden lurch by the fish and he stood up and braced himself and held his hand up against the sun. It was only a line burn that had cut his flesh. But it was in the working part of his hand. He knew he would need his hands before this was over and he did not like to be cut before it started.

“Now，” he said， when his hand had dried，“I must eat the small tuna. I can reach him with the gaff and eat him here in comfort.”

He knelt down and found the tuna under the stern with the gaff and drew it toward him keeping it clear of the coiled lines. Holding the line with his left shoulder again， and bracing on his left hand and arm， he took the tuna off the gaff hook and put the gaff back in place. He put one knee on the fish and cut strips of dark red meat longitudinally from the back of the head to the tail. They were wedge-shaped strips and he cut them from next to the backbone down to the edge of the belly. When he had cut six strips he spread them out on the wood of the bow， wiped his knife on his trousers， and lifted the carcass of the bonito by the tail and dropped it overboard.

“I don't think I can eat an entire one，” he said and drew his knife across one of the strips. He could feel the steady hard pull of the line and his left hand was cramped. It drew up tight on the heavy cord and he looked at it in disgust.

“What kind of a hand is that，” he said.“Cramp ten if you want. Make yourself into a claw. It will do you no good.”

Come on， he thought and looked down into the dark water at the slant of the line. Eat it now and it will strengthen the hand. It is not the hand's fault and you have been many hours with the fish. But you can stay with him forever. Eat the bonito now.

He picked up a piece and put it in his mouth and chewed it slowly. It was not unpleasant. Chew it well， he thought， and get all the juices. It would not be bad to eat with a little lime or with lemon or with salt.

“How do you feel， hand?” he asked the cramped hand that was almost as still as rigor mortis.“I'll eat some more for you.” He ate the other part of the piece that he had cut in two. He chewed it carefully and then spat out the skin.

“How does it go， hand? Or is it too early to know?” He took another full piece and chewed it.

“It is a strong full-blooded fish，” he thought.“I was lucky to get him instead of dolphin. Dolphin is too sweet. This is hardly sweet at all and all the strength is still in it.”

There is no sense in being anything but practical though， he thought. I wish I had some salt. And I do not know whether the sun will rot or dry what is left， so I had better eat it all although I am not hungry. The fish is calm and steady. I will eat it all and then I will be ready.

“Be patient， hand，” he said.“I do this for you.”

I wish I could feed the fish， he thought. He is my brother. But I must kill him and keep strong to do it. Slowly and conscientiously he ate all of the wedge-shaped strips of fish.

He straightened up， wiping his hand on his trousers.“Now，” he said.“You can let the cord go， hand， and I will handle him with the right arm alone until you stop that nonsense.” He put his left foot on the heavy line that the left hand had held and lay back against the pull against his back.

“God help me to have the cramp go，” he said.“Because I do not know what the fish is going to do.”

But he seems calm， he thought， and following his plan. But what is his plan， he thought. And what is mine? Mine I must improvise to his because of his great size. If he will jump I can kill him. But he stays down forever. Then I will stay down with him forever.

He rubbed the cramped hand against his trousers and tried to gentle the fingers. But it would not open. Maybe it will open with the sun， he thought. Maybe it will open when the strong raw tuna is digested. If I have to have it， I will open it， cost whatever it costs. But I do not want to open it now by force. Let it open by itself and come back of its own accord. After all I abused it much in the night when it was necessary to free and untie the various lines.

He looked across the sea and knew how alone he was now. But he could see the prisms in the deep dark water and the line stretching ahead and the strange undulation of the calm. The clouds were building up now for the trade wind and he looked ahead and saw a flight of wild ducks etching themselves against the sky over the water， then blurring， then etching again and he knew no man was ever alone on the sea.

He thought of how some men feared being out of sight of land in a small boat and knew they were right in the months of sudden bad weather. But now they were in hurricane months and， when there are no hurricanes， the weather of hurricane months is the best of all the year.

If there is a hurricane you always see the signs of it in the sky for days ahead if you are at sea. They do not see it ashore because they do not know what to look for， he thought. The land must make a difference too， in the shape of the clouds. But we have no hurricane coming now.

He looked at the sky and saw the white cumulus built like friendly piles of ice cream and high above were the thin feathers of the cirrus against the high September sky.

“Light brisa，” he said.“Better weather for me than for you， fish.”

His left hand was still cramped， but he was unknotting it slowly.

I hate a cramp， he thought. It is a treachery of one's own body. It is humiliating before others to have a diarrhea from ptomaine poisoning or to vomit from it. But a cramp， he thought of it as a calambre， humiliates oneself especially when one is alone.

If the boy were here he could rub it for me and loosen it down from the forearm， he thought. But it will loosen up.

Then， with his right hand he felt the difference in the pull of the line before he saw the slant change in the water. Then， as he leaned against the line and slapped his left hand hard and fast against his thigh he saw the line slanting slowly upward.

“He's coming up，” he said.“Come on hand. Please come on.”

The line rose slowly and steadily and then the surface of the ocean bulged ahead of the boat and the fish came out. He came out unendingly and water poured from his sides. He was bright in the sun and his head and back were dark purple and in the sun the stripes on his sides showed wide and a light lavender. His sword was as long as a baseball bat and tapered like a rapier and he rose his full length from the water and then re-entered it， smoothly， like a diver and the old man saw the great scythe-blade of his tail go under and the line commenced to race out.

“He is two feet longer that the skiff，” the old man said. The line was going out fast but steadily and the fish was not panicked. The old man was trying with both hands to keep the line just inside of breaking strength. He knew that if he could not slow the fish with a steady pressure the fish could take out all the line and break it.

He is a great fish and I must convince him， he thought. I must never let him learn his strength nor what he could do if he made his run. If I were him I would put in everything now and go until something broke. But， thank God， they are not as intelligent as we who kill them; although they are more noble and more able.

The old man had seen many great fish. He had seen many that weighed more than a thousand pounds and he had caught two of that size in his life， but never alone. Now alone， and out of sight of land， he was fast to the biggest fish that he had ever seen and bigger than he had ever heard of， and his left hand was still as tight as the gripped claws of an eagle.

It will uncramp though， he thought. Surely it will uncramp to help my right hand. There are three things that are brothers: the fish and my two hands. It must uncramp. It is unworthy of it to be cramped. The fish had slowed again and was going at his usual pace.

I wonder why he jumped， the old man thought. He jumped almost as though to show me how big he was. I know now， anyway， he thought. I wish I could show him what sort of man I am. But then he would see the cramped hand. Let him think I am more man than I am and I will be so. I wish I were the fish， he thought， with everything he has against only my will and my intelligence.

He settled comfortably against the wood and took his suffering as it came and the fish swam steadily and the boat moved slowly through the dark water. There was a small sea rising with the wind coming up from the east and at noon the old man's left hand was uncramped.

“Bad news for you， fish，” he said and shifted the line over the sacks that covered his shoulders.

He was comfortable but suffering， although he did not admit the suffering at all.“I am not religious，” he said.“But I will say ten Our Fathers and ten Hail Marys that I should catch this fish， and I promise to make a pilgrimage to the Virgin of Cobre if I catch him. That is a promise.”

He commenced to say his prayers mechanically. Sometimes he would be so tired that he could not remember the prayer and then he would say them fast so that they would come automatically. Hail Marys are easier to say than our Fathers， he thought.“Hail Mary full of Grace the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb， Jesus. Holy Mary， Mother of God， pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen.” Then he added，“Blessed Virgin， pray for the death of this fish. Wonderful though he is.”

With his prayers said， and feeling much better， but suffering exactly as much， and perhaps a little more， he leaned against the wood of the bow and began， mechanically， to work the fingers of his left hand. The sun was hot now although the breeze was rising gently.

“I had better re-bait that little line out over the stern，” he said.“If the fish decides to stay another night I will need to eat again and the water is low in the bottle. I don't think I can get anything but a dolphin here. But if I eat him fresh enough he won't be bad. I wish a flying fish would come on board tonight. But I have no light to attract them. A flying fish is excellent to eat raw and I would not have to cut him up. I must save all my strength now. Christ， I did not know he was so big.”

“I'll kill him though，” he said.“In all his greatness and his glory.”

Although it is unjust， he thought. But I will show him what a man can do and what a man endures.

“I told the boy I was a strange old man，” he said.“Now is when I must prove it.”

The thousand times that he had proved it meant nothing. Now he was proving it again. Each time was a new time and he never thought about the past when he was doing it.

I wish he'd sleep and I could sleep and dream about the lions， he thought. Why are the lions the main thing that is left? Don't think， old man， he said to himself. Rest gently now against the wood and think of nothing. He is working. Work as little as you can.

It was getting into the afternoon and the boat still moved slowly and steadily. But there was an added drag now from the easterly breeze and the old man rode gently with the small sea and the hurt of the cord across his back came to him easily and smoothly.

Once in the afternoon the line started to rise again. But the fish only continued to swim at a slightly higher level. The sun was on the old man's left arm and shoulder and on his back. So he knew the fish had turned east of north.

Now that he had seen him once， he could picture the fish swimming in the water with his purple pectoral fins set wide as wings and the great erect tail slicing through the dark. I wonder how much he sees at that depth， the old man thought. His eye is huge and a horse， with much less eye， can see in the dark. Once I could see quite well in the dark. Not in the absolute dark. But almost as a cat sees.

The sun and his steady movement of his fingers had uncramped his left hand now completely and he began to shift more of the strain to it and he shrugged the muscles of his back to shift the hurt of the cord a little.

“If you're not tired， fish，” he said aloud，“you must be very strange.”

He felt very tired now and he knew the night would come soon and he tried to think of other things. He thought of the Big Leagues， to him they were the Gran Ligas， and he knew that the Yankees of New York were playing the Tigers of Detroit.

This is the second day now that I do not know the result of the juegos， he thought. But I must have confidence and I must be worthy of the great DiMaggio who does all things perfectly even with the pain of the bone spur in his heel. What is a bone spur? He asked himself. Un espuela de nueso. We do not have them. Can it be as painful as the spur of a fighting cock in one's heel? I do not think I could endure that or the loss of the eye and of both eyes and continue to fight as the fighting cocks do. Man is not much beside the great birds and beasts. Still I would rather be that beast down there in the darkness of the sea.

“Unless sharks come，” he said aloud.“If sharks come， god pity him and me.”

Do you believe the great DiMaggio would stay with a fish as long as I will stay with this one? He thought， I am sure he would and more since he is young and strong. Also his father was a fisherman. But would the bone spur hurt him too much?

“I do not know，” he said aloud.“I never had a bone spur.”

As the sun set he remembered， to give himself more confidence， the time in the tavern at Casablanca when he had played the hand game with the great negro from Cienfuegos who was the strongest man on the docks. They had gone one day and one night with their elbows on a chalk line on the table and their forearms straight up and their hands gripped tight. Each one was trying to force the other's hand down onto the table. There was much betting and people went in and out of the room under the kerosene lights and he had looked at the arm and hand of the negro and at the negro's face. They changed the referees every four hours after the first eight so that the referees could sleep. Blood came out form under the fingernails of both his and the negro's hands and they looked each other in the eye and at their hands and forearms and the bettors went in and out of the room and sat on high chairs against the wall and watched. The walls were painted bright blue and were of wood and the lamps threw their shadows against them. The negro's shadow was huge and it moved on the wall as the breeze moved the lamps.

The odds would change back and forth all night and they fed the negro rum and lighted cigarettes for him. Then the negro， after the rum， would try for a tremendous effort and once he had the old man， who was not an old man then but was Santiago El Champion， nearly three inches off balance. But the old man had raised his hand up to dead even again. He was sure then that he had the negro， who was a fine man and a great athlete， beaten. And at daylight when the bettors were asking that it be called a draw and the referee was shaking his head， he had unleashed his effort and forced the hand of the negro down and down until it rested on the wood. The match had started on a Sunday morning and ended on a Monday morning. Many of the bettors had asked for a draw because they had to go to work on the docks loading sacks of sugar or at the Havana Coal Company. Otherwise everyone would have wanted it to go to a finish. But he had finished it anyway and before anyone had to go to work.

For a long time after that everyone had called him the Champion and there had been a return match in the spring. But not much money was bet and he had won it quite easily since he had broken the confidence of the negro from Cienfuegos in the first match. After that he had a few matches and then no more. He decided that he could beat anyone if he wanted to badly enough and he decided that it was bad for his right hand for fishing. He had tried a few practice matches with his left hand. But his left hand had always been a traitor and would not do what he called on it to do and he did not trust it.

The sun will bake it out well now， he thought. It should not cramp on me again unless it gets too cold in the night. I wonder what this night will bring.

An airplane passed overhead on its course to Miami and he watched its shadow scaring up the schools of flying fish.

“With so much flying fish there should be dolphin，” he said， and leaned back on the line to see if it was possible to gain any on his fish. But he could not and it stayed at the hardness and waterdrop shivering that preceded breaking. The boat moved ahead slowly and he watched the airplane until he could no longer see it.

It must be very strange in an airplane， he thought. I wonder what the sea looks like from that height? They should be able to see the fish well if they do not fly too high. I would like to fly very slowly at two hundred fathoms high and see the fish from above. In the turtle boats I was in the cross-trees of the mast-head and even at that height I saw much. The dolphin looks greener from there and you can see their stripes and their purple spots and you can see all of the school as they swim. Why is it that all the fast-moving fish of the dark current have purple backs and usually purple stripes or spots? The dolphin looks green of course because he is really golden. But when he comes to feed， truly hungry， purple stripes show on his sides as on a marlin. Can it be anger， or the greater speed he makes that brings them out?

Just before it was dark， as they passed a great island of Sargasso weed that heaved and swung in the light sea as though the ocean were making love with something under a yellow blanket， his small line was taken by a dolphin. He saw it first when it jumped in the air， true gold in the last of the sun and bending and flapping wildly in the air. It jumped again and again in the acrobatics of its fear and he worked his way back to the stern and crouching and holding the big line with his right hand and arm， he pulled the dolphin in with his left hand， stepping on the gained line each time with his bare left foot. When the fish was at the stern， plunging and cutting from side to side in desperation， the old man leaned over the stern and lifted the burnished gold fish with its purple spots over the stern. Its jaws were working convulsively in quick bites against the hook and it pounded the bottom of the skiff with its long flat body， its tail and its head until he clubbed it across the shining golden head until it shivered and was still.

The old man unhooked the fish， re-baited the line with another sardine and tossed it over. Then he worked his way slowly back to the bow. He washed his left hand and wiped it on his trousers. Then he shifted the heavy line from his right hand to his left and washed his right hand in the sea while he watched the sun go into the ocean and the slant of the big cord.

“He hasn't changed at all，” he said. But watching the movement of the water against his hand he noted that it was perceptibly slower.

“I'll lash the two oars together across the stern and that will slow him in the night，” he said.“He's good for the night and so am I.”

It would be better to gut the dolphin a little later to save the blood in the meat， he thought. I can do that a little later and lash the oars to make a drag at the same time. I had better keep the fish quiet now and not disturb him too much at sunset. The setting of the sun is a difficult time for all fish. He let his hand dry in the air then grasped the line with it and eased himself as much as he could and allowed himself to be pulled forward against the wood so that the boat took the strain as much， or more， than he did.

I'm learning how to do it， he thought. This part of it anyway. Then too， remember he hasn't eaten since he took the bait and he is huge and needs much food. I have eaten the whole bonito. Tomorrow I will eat the dolphin. He called it dorado. Perhaps I should eat some of it when I clean it. It will be harder to eat than the bonito. But， then， nothing is easy.

“How do you feel， fish?” he asked aloud.“I feel good and my left hand is better and I have food for a night and a day. Pull the boat， fish.”

He did not truly feel good because the pain from the cord across his back had almost passed pain and gone into a dullness that he mistrusted. But I have had worse things than that， he thought. My hand is only cut a little and the cramp is gone from the other. My legs are all right. Also now I have gained on him in the question of sustenance.

It was dark now as it becomes dark quickly after the sun sets in September. He lay against the worn wood of the bow and rested all that he could. The first stars were out. He did not know the name of Rigel but he saw it and knew soon they would all be out and he would have all his distant friends.“The fish is my friend too，” he said aloud.“I have never seen or heard of such a fish. But I must kill him. I am glad we do not have to try to kill the stars.”

Imagine if each day a man must try to kill the moon， he thought. The moon runs away. But imagine if a man each day should have to try to kill the sun? We were born lucky， he thought.

Then he was sorry for the great fish that had nothing to eat and his determination to kill him never relaxed in his sorrow for him. How many people will he feed， he thought. But are they worthy to eat him? No， of course not. There is no one worthy of eating him from the manner of his behavior and his great dignity.

I do not understand these things， he thought. But it is good that we do not have to try to kill the sun or the moon or the stars. It is enough to live on the sea and kill our true brothers.

Now， he thought， I must think about the drag. It has its perils and its merits. I may lose so much line that I will lose him， if he makes his effort and the drag made by the oars is in place and the boat loses all her lightness. Her lightness prolongs both our suffering but it is my safety since he has great speed that he has never yet employed. No matter what passes I must gut the dolphin so he does not spoil and eat some of him to be strong.

Now I will rest an hour more and feel that he is solid and steady before I move back to the stern to do the work and make the decision. In the meantime I can see how he acts and if he shows any changes. The oars are a good trick; but it has reached the time to play for safety. He is much fish still and I saw that the hook was in the corner of his mouth and he has kept his mouth tight shut. The punishment of the hook is nothing. The punishment of hunger， and that he is against something that he does not comprehend， is everything. Best now， old man， and let him work until your next duty comes.

He rested for what he believed to be two hours. The moon did not rise now until late and he had no way of judging the time. Nor was he really resting except comparatively. He was still bearing the pull of the fish across his shoulders but he placed his left hand on the gunwale of the bow and confided more and more of the resistance to the fish to the skiff itself.

How simple it would be if I could make the line fast， he thought. But with one small lurch he could break it. I must cushion the pull of the line with my body and at all times be ready to give line with both hands.

“But you have not slept yet， old man，” he said aloud.“It is half a day and a night and now another day and you have not slept. You must devise a way so that you sleep a little if he is quiet and steady. If you do not sleep you might become unclear in the head.”

I'm clear enough in the head， he thought. Too clear! I am as clear as the stars that are my brothers. Still I must sleep. They sleep and the moon and the sun sleep and even the ocean sleeps sometimes on certain days when there is no current and a flat calm.

But remember to sleep， he thought. Make yourself do it and devise some simple and sure way about the lines. Now go back and prepare the dolphin. It is too dangerous to rig the oars as a drag if you must sleep.

I could go without sleeping， he told himself. But it would be too dangerous.

He started to work his way back to the stern on his hands and knees， being careful not to jerk against the fish. He may be half asleep himself， he thought. But I do not want him to rest. He must pull until he dies.

Back in the stern he turned so that his left hand held the strain of the line across his shoulders and drew his knife from its sheath with his right hand. The stars were bright now and he saw the dolphin clearly and he pushed the blade of his knife into his head and drew him out from under the stern. He put one of his feet on the fish and slit him quickly from the vent up to the tip of his lower jaw. Then he put his knife down and gutted him with his right hand， scooping him clean and pulling the gills clear.

He felt the maw heavy and slippery in his hands and he slit it open. There were two flying fish inside. They were fresh and hard and he laid them side by side and dropped the guts and the gills over the stern. They sank leaving a trail of phosphorescence in the water. The dolphin was cold and a leprous gray-white now in the starlight and the old man skinned one side of him while he held his right foot on the fish's head. Then he turned him over and skinned the other side and cut each side off from the head down to the tail.

He slid the carcass overboard and looked to see if there was any swirl in the water. But there was only the light of its slow descent. He turned then and placed the two flying fish inside the two fillets of fish and putting his knife back in its sheath， he worked his way slowly back to the bow. His back was bent with the weight of the line across it and he carried the fish in his right hand.

Back in the bow he laid the two fillets of fish out on the wood with the flying fish beside them. After that he settled the line across his shoulders in a new place and held it again with his left hand resting on the gunwale. Then he leaned over the side and washed the flying fish in the water， noting the speed of the water against his hand. His hand was phosphorescent from skinning the fish and he watched the flow of the water against it. The flow was less strong and as he rubbed the side of his hand against the planking of the skiff， particles of phosphorus floated off and drifted slowly astern.

“He is tiring or he is resting，” the old man said.“Now let me get through the eating of this dolphin and get some rest and a little sleep.”

Under the stars and with the night colder all the time he ate half of one of the dolphin fillets and one of the flying fish， gutted and with its head cut off.

“What an excellent fish dolphin is to eat cooked，” he said.“And what a miserable fish raw. I will never go in a boat again without salt or limes.”

If I had brains I would have splashed water on the bow all day and drying， it would have made salt， he thought. But then I did not hook the dolphin until almost sunset. Still it was a lack of preparation. But I have chewed it all well and I am not nauseated.

The sky was clouding over to the east and one after another the stars he knew were gone. It looked now as though he were moving into a great canyon of clouds and the wind had dropped.

“There will be bad weather in three or four days，” he said.“But not tonight and not tomorrow. Rig now to get some sleep， old man， while the fish is calm and steady.”

He held the line tight in his right hand and then pushed his thigh against his right hand as he leaned all his weight against the wood of the bow. Then he passed the line a little lower on his shoulders and braced his left hand on it.

My right hand can hold it as long as it is braced， he thought. If it relaxes in sleep my left hand will wake me as the line goes out. It is hard on the right hand. But he is used to punishment. Even if I sleep twenty minutes or a half an hour it is good. He lay forward cramping himself against the line with all of his body， putting all his weight onto his right hand， and he was asleep.

He did not dream of the lions but instead of a vast school of porpoises that stretched for eight or ten miles and it was in the time of their mating and they would leap high into the air and return into the same hole they had made in the water when they leaped.

Then he dreamed that he was in the village on his bed and there was a norther and he was very cold and his right arm was asleep because his head had rested on it instead of a pillow.

After that he began to dream of the long yellow beach and he saw the first of the lions come down onto it in the early dark and then the other lions came and he rested his chin on the wood of the bows where the ship lay anchored with the evening off-shore breeze and he waited to see if there would be more lions and he was happy.

The moon had been up for a long time but he slept on and the fish pulled on steadily and the boat moved into the tunnel of clouds.

He woke with the jerk of his right fist coming up against his face and the line burning out through his right hand. He had no feeling of his left hand but he braked all he could with his right and the line rushed out. Finally his left hand found the line and he leaned back against the line and now it burned his back and his left hand， and his left hand was taking all the strain and cutting badly. He looked back at the coils of line and they were feeding smoothly. Just then the fish jumped making a great bursting of the ocean and then a heavy fall. Then he jumped again and again and the boat was going fast although line was still racing out and the old man was raising the strain to breaking point and raising it to breaking point again and again. He had been pulled down tight onto the bow and his face was in the cut slice of dolphin and he could not move.

This is what we waited for， he thought. So now let us take it. Make him pay for the line， he thought. Make him pay for it.

He could not see the fish's jumps but only heard the breaking of the ocean and the heavy splash as he fell. The speed of the line was cutting his hands badly but he had always known this would happen and he tried to keep the cutting across the calloused parts and not let the line slip into the palm nor cut the fingers.

If the boy was here he would wet the coils of line， he thought. Yes. If the boy were here. If the boy were here.

The line went out and out and out but it was slowing now and he was making the fish earn each inch of it. Now he got his head up from the wood and out of the slice of fish that his cheek had crushed. Then he was on his knees and then he rose slowly to his feet. He was ceding line but more slowly all the time. He worked back to where he could feel with his foot the coils of line that he could not see. There was plenty of line still and now the fish had to pull the friction of all that new line through the water.

Yes， he thought. And now he has jumped more than a dozen times and filled the sacks along his back with air and he cannot go down deep to die where I cannot bring him up. He will start circling soon and then I must work on him. I wonder what started him so suddenly? Could it have been hunger that made him desperate， or was he frightened by something in the night? Maybe he suddenly felt fear. But he was such a calm， strong fish and he seemed so fearless and so confident. It is strange.

“You better be fearless and confident yourself， old man，” he said.“You're holding him again but you cannot get line. But soon he has to circle.”

The old man held him with his left hand and his shoulders now and stooped down and scooped up water in his right hand to get the crushed dolphin flesh off of his face. He was afraid that it might nauseate him and he would vomit and lose his strength. When his face was cleaned he washed his right hand in the water over the side and then let it stay in the salt water while he watched the first light come before the sunrise. He's headed almost east， he thought. That means he is tired and going with the current. Soon he will have to circle. Then our true work begins.

After he judged that his right hand had been in the water long enough he took it out and looked at it.

“It is not bad，” he said.“And pain does not matter to a man.”

He took hold of the line carefully so that it did not fit into any of the fresh line cuts and shifted his weight so that he could put his left hand into the sea on the other side of the skiff.

“You did not do so badly for something worthless，” he said to his left hand.“But there was a moment when I could not find you.”

Why was I not born with two good hands? He thought. Perhaps it was my fault in not training that one properly. But God knows he has had enough chances to learn. He did not do so badly in the night， though， and he has only cramped once. If he cramps again let the line cut him off.

When he thought that he knew that he was not being clear-headed and he thought he should chew some more of the dolphin. But I can't， he told himself. It is better to be light-headed than to lose your strength from nausea. And I know I cannot keep it if I eat it since my face was in it. I will keep it for an emergency until it goes bad. But it is too late to try for strength now through nourishment. You're stupid， he told himself. Eat the other flying fish.

It was there， cleaned and ready， and he picked it up with his left hand and ate it chewing the bones carefully and eating all of it down to the tail.

It has more nourishment than almost any fish， he thought. At least the kind of strength that I need. Now I have done what I can， he thought. Let him begin to circle and let the fight come.

The sun was rising for the third time since he had put to sea when the fish started to circle.

He could not see by the slant of the line that the fish was circling. It was too early for that. He just felt a faint slackening of the pressure of the line and he commenced to pull on it gently with his right hand. It tightened， as always. But just when he reached the point where it would break， line began to come in. He slipped his shoulders and head from under the line and began to pull in line steadily and gently. He used both of his hands in a swinging motion and tried to do the pulling as much as he could with his body and his legs. His old legs and shoulders pivoted with the swinging of the pulling.

“It is a very big circle，” he said.“But he is circling.” Then the line would not come in any more and he held it until he saw the drops jumping from it in the sun. Then it started out. And the old man knelt down and let it go grudgingly back into the dark water.

“He is making the far part of his circle now，” he said. I must hold all I can， he thought. The strain will shorten his circle each time. Perhaps in an hour I will see him. Now I must convince him and then I must kill him.

But the fish kept on circling slowly and the old man was wet with sweat and tired deep into his bones two hours later. But the circles were much shorter now and from the way the line slanted he could tell the fish had risen steadily while he swam.

For an hour the old man had been seeing black spots before his eyes and the sweat salted his eyes and salted the cut over his eye and on his forehead. He was not afraid of the black spots. They were normal at the tension that he was pulling on the line. Twice， though， he had felt faint and dizzy and that had worried him.

“I could not fail myself and die on a fish like this，” he said.“Now that I have him coming so beautifully， God help me endure. I'll say a hundred Our Fathers and a hundred Hail Marys. But I cannot say them now.”

Consider them said， he thought. I'll say them later. Just then he felt a sudden banging and jerking on the line he held with his two hands. It was sharp and hard-feeling and heavy.

He is hitting the wire leader with his spear， he thought. That was bound to come. He had to do that. It may make him jump though and I would rather he stayed circling now. The jumps were necessary for him to take air. But after that each one can widen the opening of the hook wound and he can throw the hook.

“Don't jump， fish，” he said.“Don't jump.”

The fish hit the wire several times more and each time he shook his head the old man gave up a little line.

I must hold his pain where it is， he thought. Mine does not matter. I can control mine. But his pain could drive him mad.

After a while the fish stopped beating at the wire and started circling slowly again. The old man was gaining line steadily now. But he felt faint again. He lifted some seawater with his left hand and put it on his head. Then he put more on and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I have no cramps，” he said.“He'll be up soon and I can last. You have to last. Don't even speak of it.”

He kneeled against the bow and， for a moment， slipped the line over his back again. I'll rest now while he goes out on the circle and then stand up and work on him when he comes in， he decided.

It was a great temptation to rest in the bow and let the fish make one circle by himself without recovering any line. But when the strain showed the fish had turned to come toward the boat， the old man rose to his feet and started the pivoting and the weaving pulling that brought in all the line he gained.

I'm tireder than I have ever been， he thought， and now the trade wind is rising. But that will be good to take him in with. I need that badly.

“I'll rest on the next turn as he goes out，” he said，“I feel much better. Then in two or three turns more I will have him.”

His straw hat was far on the back of his head and he sank down into the bow with the pull of the line as he felt the fish turn.

You work now， fish， he thought. I'll take you at the turn. The sea had risen considerably. But it was a fair weather breeze and he had to have it to get home.

“I'll just steer south and west，” he said.“A man is never lost at sea and it is a long island.”

It was on the third turn that he saw the fish first.

He saw him first as a dark shadow that took so long to pass under the boat that he could not believe its length.

“No，” he said.“He can't be that big.”

But he was that big and at the end of this circle he came to the surface only thirty yards away and the man saw his tail out of water. It was higher than a big scythe blade and a very pale lavender above the dark blue water. It raked back and as the fish swam just below the surface the old man could see his huge bulk and the purple stripes that banded him. His dorsal fin was down and his huge pectorals were spread wide.

On this circle the old man could see the fish's eye and the two gray sucking fish that swam around him. Sometimes they attached themselves to him. Sometimes they darted off. Sometimes they would swim easily in his shadow. They were each over three feet long and when they swam fast they lashed their whole bodies like eels.

The old man was sweating now but from something else besides the sun. On each calm placid turn the fish made he was gaining line and he was sure that in two turns more he would have a chance to get the harpoon in.

But I must get him close， close， close， he thought. I mustn't try for the head. I must get the heart.

“Be calm and strong， old man，” he said.

On the next circle the fish's back was out but he was a little too far from the boat. On the next circle he was still too far away but he was higher out of water and the old man was sure that by gaining some more line he could have him alongside.

He had rigged his harpoon long before and its coil of light rope was in a round basket and the end was made fast to the bitt in the bow.

The fish was coming in on his circle now calm and beautiful looking and only his great tail moving. The old man pulled on him all that he could to bring him closer. For just a moment the fish turned a little on his side. The he straightened himself and began another circle.

“I moved him，” the old man said.“I moved him then.”

He felt faint again now but he held on the great fish all the strain that he could. I moved him， he thought. Maybe this time I can get him over. Pull， hands， he thought. Hold up， legs. Last for me， head. Last for me. You never went. This time I'll pull him over.

But when he put all of his effort on， starting it well out before the fish came alongside and pulling with all his strength， the fish pulled part way over and then righted himself and swam away.

“Fish，” the old man said.“Fish， you are going to have to die anyway. Do you have to kill me too?”

That way nothing is accomplished， he thought. His mouth was too dry to speak but he could not reach for the water now. I must get him alongside this time， he thought. I am not good for many more turns. Yes you are， he told himself. You're good for ever.

On the next turn， he nearly had him. But again the fish righted himself and swam slowly away.

You are killing me， fish， the old man thought. But you have a right to. Never have I seen a greater， or more beautiful， or a calmer or more noble thing than you， brother. Come on and kill me. I do not care who kills who.

Now you are getting confused in the head， he thought. You must keep your head clear. Keep your head clear and know how to suffer like a man. Or a fish， he thought.

“Clear up， head，” he said in a voice he could hardly hear.“Clear up.”

Twice more it was the same on the turns.

I do not know， the old man thought. He had been on the point of feeling himself go each time. I do not know. But I will try it once more.

He tried it once more and he felt himself going when he turned the fish. The fish righted himself and swam off again slowly with the great tail weaving in the air.

I'll try it again， the old man promised， although his hands were mushy now and he could only see well in flashes.

He tried it again and it was the same. So he thought， and he felt himself going before he started; I will try it once again.

He took all his pain and what was left of his strength and his long gone pride and he put it against the fish's agony and the fish came over onto his side and swam gently on his side， his bill almost touching the planking of the skiff and started to pass the boat， long， deep， wide， silver and barred with purple and interminable in the water.

The old man dropped the line and put his foot on it and lifted the harpoon as high as he could and drove it down with all his strength， and more strength he had just summoned， into the fish's side just behind the great chest fin that rose high in the air to the altitude of the man's chest. He felt the iron go in and he leaned on it and drove it further and then pushed all his weight after it.

Then the fish came alive， with his death in him， and rose high out of the water showing all his great length and width and all his power and his beauty. He seemed to hang in the air above the old man in the skiff. Then he fell into the water with a crash that sent spray over the old man and over all of the skiff.

The old man felt faint and sick and he could not see well. But he cleared the harpoon line and let it run slowly through his raw hands and， when he could see， he saw the fish was on his back with his silver belly up. The shaft of the harpoon was projecting at an angle from the fish's shoulder and the sea was discoloring with the red of the blood from his heart. First it was dark as a shoal in the blue water that was more than a mile deep. Then it spread like a cloud. The fish was silvery and still and floated with the waves.

The old man looked carefully in the glimpse of vision that he had. Then he took two turns of the harpoon line around the bitt in the bow and laid his head on his hands.

“Keep my head clear，” he said against the wood of the bow.“I am a tired old man. But I have killed this fish which is my brother and now I must do the slave work.”

Now I must prepare the nooses and the rope to lash him alongside， he thought. Even if we were two and swamped her to load him and bailed her out， this skiff would never hold him. I must prepare everything， then bring him in and lash him well and step the mast and set sail for home.

He started to pull the fish in to have him alongside so that he could pass a line through his gills and out his mouth and make his head fast alongside the bow. I want to see him， he thought， and to touch and to feel him. He is my fortune， he thought， but that is not why I wish to feel him. I think I felt his heart， he thought. When I pushed on the harpoon shaft the second time. Bring him in now and make him fast and get the noose around his tail and another around his middle to bind him to the skiff.

“Get to work， old man，” he said. He took a very small drink of the water.“There is very much slave work to be done now that the fight is over.”

He looked up at the sky and then out to his fish. He looked at the sun carefully. It is not much more than noon， he thought. And the trade wind is rising. The lines all mean nothing now. The boy and I will splice them when we are home.

“Come on， fish，” he said. But the fish did not come. Instead he lay there wallowing now in the seas and the old man pulled the skiff up-onto him.

When he was even with him and had the fish's head against the bow he could not believe his size. But he untied the harpoon rope from the bitt， passed it through the fish's gills and out his jaws， made a turn around his sword then passed the rope through the other gill， made another turn around the bill and knotted the double rope and made it fast to the bitt in the bow. He cut the rope then and went astern to noose the tail. The fish had turned silver from his original purple and silver， and the strips showed the same pale violet color as his tail. They were wider than a man's hand with his fingers spread and the fish's eye looked as detached as the mirrors in a periscope or as a saint in a procession.

“It was the only way to kill him，” the old man said. He was feeling better since the water and he knew he would not go away and his head was clear. He's over fifteen hundred pounds the way he is， he thought. Maybe much more. If he dresses out two-thirds of that at thirty cents a pound?

“I need a pencil for that，” he said.“My head is not that clear. But I think the great DiMaggio would be proud of me today. I had no bone spurs. But the hands and the back hurt truly.” I wonder what a bone spur is， he thought. Maybe we have them without knowing of it.

He made the fish fast to bow and stern and to the middle thwart. He was so big it was like lashing a much bigger skiff alongside. He cut a piece of line and tied the fish's lower jaw against his bill so his mouth would not open and they would sail as cleanly as possible. Then he stepped the mast and， with the stick that was his gaff and with his boom rigged， the patched sail drew， the boat began to move， and half lying in the stern he sailed southwest.

He did not need a compass to tell him where southwest was. He only needed the feel of the trade wind and the drawing of the sail. I better put a small line out with a spoon on it and try and get something to eat and drink for the moisture. But he could not find a spoon and his sardines were rotten. So he hooked a patch of yellow Gulf weed with the gaff as they passed and shook it so that the small shrimps that were in it fell onto the planking of the skiff. There were more than a dozen of them and they jumped and kicked like sand fleas. The old man pinched their heads off with his thumb and forefinger and ate them chewing up the shells and the tails. They were very tiny but he knew they were nourishing and they tasted good.

The old man still had two drinks of water in the bottle and he used half of one after he had eaten the shrimps. The skiff was sailing well considering the handicaps and he steered with the tiller under his arm. He could see the fish and he had only to look at his hands and feel his back against the stern to know that this had truly happened and was not a dream. At one time when he was feeling so badly toward the end， he had thought perhaps it was a dream. Then when he had seen the fish come out of the water and hang motionless in the sky before he fell， he was sure there was some great strangeness and he could not believe it.

Then he could not see well， although now he saw as well as ever. Now he knew there was the fish and his hands and back were no dream. The hands cure quickly， he thought. I bled them clean and the salt water will heal them. The dark water of the true gulf is the greatest healer that there is. All I must do is keep the head clear. The hands have done their work and we sail well. With his mouth shut and his tail straight up and down we sail like brothers. Then his head started to become a little unclear and he thought， is he bringing me in or am I bringing him in? If I were towing him behind there would be no question. Nor if the fish were in the skiff， with all dignity gone， there would be no question either. But they were sailing together lashed side by side and the old man thought， let him bring me in if it pleases him. I am only better than him through trickery and he meant me no harm.

They sailed well and the old man soaked his hands in the salt water and tried to keep his head clear. There were high cumulus clouds and enough cirrus above them so that the old man knew the breeze would last all night. The old man looked at the fish constantly to make sure it was true. It was an hour before the first shark hit him.

The shark was not an accident. He had come up from deep down in the water as the dark cloud of blood had settled and dispersed in the mile deep sea. He had come up so fast and absolutely without caution that he broke the surface of the blue water and was in the sun. Then he fell back into the sea and picked up the scent and started swimming on the course the skiff and the fish had taken.

Sometimes he lost the scent. But he would pick it up again， or have just a trace of it， and he swam fast and hard on the course. He was a very big Mako shark built to swim as fast as the fastest fish in the sea and everything about him was beautiful except his jaws. His back was as blue as a swordfish's and his belly was silver and his hide was smooth and handsome. He was built as a swordfish except for his huge jaws which were tight shut now as he swam fast， just under the surface with his high dorsal fin knifing through the water without wavering. Inside the closed double lip of his jaws all of his eight rows of teeth were slanted inwards. They were not the ordinary pyramid-shaped teeth of most sharks. They were shaped like a man's fingers when they are crisped like claws. They were nearly as long as the fingers of the old man and they had razor-sharp cutting edges on both sides. This was a fish built to feed on all the fishes in the sea， that were so fast and strong and well armed that they had no other enemy. Now he speeded up as he smelled the fresher scent and his blue dorsal fin cut the water.

When the old man saw him coming he knew that this was a shark that had no fear at all and would do exactly what he wished. He prepared the harpoon and made the rope fast while he watched the shark come on. The rope was short as it lacked what he had cut away to lash the fish.

The old man's head was clear and good now and he was full of resolution but he had little hope. It was too good to last， he thought. He took one look at the great fish as he watched the shark close in. It might as well have been a dream， he thought. I cannot keep him from hitting me but maybe I can get him. Dentuso， he thought. Bad luck to your mother.

The shark closed fast astern and when he hit the fish the old man saw his mouth open and his strange eyes and the clicking chop of the teeth as he drove forward in the meat just above the tail. The shark's head was out of water and his back was coming out and the old man could hear the noise of skin and flesh ripping on the big fish when he rammed the harpoon down onto the shark's head at a spot where the line between his eyes intersected with the line that ran straight back from his nose. There were no such lines. There was only the heavy sharp blue head and the big eyes and the clicking， thrusting， all-swallowing jaws. But that was the location of the brain and the old man hit it. He hit it with his blood-mashed hands driving a good harpoon with all his strength. He hit it without hope but with resolution and complete malignancy.

The shark swung over and the old man saw his eye was not alive and then he swung over once again， wrapping himself in two loops of the rope. The old man knew that he was dead but the shark would not accept it. Then， on his back， with his tail lashing and his jaws clicking， the shark plowed over the water as a speedboat does. The water was white where his tail beat it and three quarters of his body was clear above the water when the rope came taut， shivered， and then snapped. The shark lay quietly for a little while on the surface and the old man watched him. Then he went down very slowly.

“He took about forty pounds，” the old man said aloud. He took my harpoon too and all the rope， he thought， and now my fish bleeds again and there will be others.

He did not like to look at the fish anymore since he had been mutilated. When the fish had been hit it was as though he himself were hit.

But I killed the shark that hit my fish， he thought. And he was the biggest dentuso that I have ever seen. And God knows that I have seen big ones.

It was too good to last， he thought. I wish it had been a dream now and that I had never hooked the fish and was alone in bed on the newspapers.

“But man is not made for defeat，” he said.“A man can be destroyed but not defeated.” I am sorry that I killed the fish though， he thought. Now the bad time is coming and I do not even have the harpoon. The dentuso is cruel and able and strong and intelligent. But I was more intelligent than he was. Perhaps not， he thought. Perhaps I was only better armed.

“Don't think， old man，” he said aloud.“Sail on this course and take it when it comes.”

But I must think， he thought. Because it is all I have left. That and baseball. I wonder how the great DiMaggio would have like the way I hit him in the brain? It was no great thing， he thought. Any man could do it. But do you think my hands were as great a handicap as the bone spurs? I cannot know. I never had anything wrong with my heel except the time the sting ray stung it when I stepped on him when swimming and paralyzed the lower leg and made the unbearable pain.

“Think about something cheerful， old man，” he said.“Every minute now you are closer to home. You sail lighter for the loss of forty pounds.”

He knew quite well the pattern of what could happen when he reached the inner part of the current. But there was nothing to be done now.

“Yes there is，” he said aloud.“I can lash my knife to the butt of one of the oars.”

So he did that with the tiller under his arm and the sheet of the sail under his foot.

“Now，” he said.“I am still an old man. But I am not unarmed.”

The breeze was fresh now and he sailed on well. He watched only the forward part of the fish and some of his hope returned.

It is silly not to hope， he thought. Besides I believe it is a sin. Do not think about sin， he thought. There are enough problems now without sin. Also I have no understanding of it.

I have no understanding of it and I am not sure that I believe in it. Perhaps it was a sin to kill the fish. I suppose it was even though I did it to keep me alive and feed many people. But then everything is a sin. Do not think about sin. It is much too late for that and there are people who are paid to do it. Let them think about it. You were born to be a fisherman as the fish was born to be a fish. San Pedro was a fisherman as was the father of the great DiMaggio.

But he liked to think about all things that he was involved in and since there was nothing to read and he did not have a radio， he thought much and he kept on thinking about sin. You did not kill the fish only to keep alive and to sell for food， he thought. You killed him for pride and because you are a fisherman. You loved him when he was alive and you loved him after. If you love him， it is not a sin to kill him. Or is it more?

“You think too much， old man，” he said aloud.

But you enjoyed killing the dentuso， he thought. He lives on the live fish as you do. He is not a scavenger nor just a moving appetite as some sharks are. He is beautiful and noble and knows no fear of anything.

“I killed him in self-defense，” the old man said aloud.“And I killed him well.”

Besides， he thought， everything kills everything else in some way. Fishing kills me exactly as it keeps me alive. The boy keeps me alive， he thought. I must not deceive myself too much.

He leaned over the side and pulled loose a piece of the meat of the fish where the shark had cut him. He chewed it and noted its quality and its good taste. It was firm and juicy， like meat， but it was not red. There was no stringiness in it and he knew that it would bring the highest price in the market. But there was no way to keep its scent out of the water and the old man knew that a very bad time was coming.

The breeze was steady. It had backed a little further into the northeast and he knew that meant that it would not fall off. The old man looked ahead of him but he could see no sails nor could he see the hull nor the smoke of any ship. There were only the flying fish that went up from his bow sailing away to either side and the yellow patches of Gulf weed. He could not even see a bird.

He had sailed for two hours， resting in the stern and sometimes chewing a bit of the meat from the marlin， trying to rest and to be strong， when he saw the first of the two sharks.

“Ay，” he said aloud. There is no translation for this word and perhaps it is just a noise such as a man might make， involuntarily， feeling the nail go through his hands and into the wood.

“Galanos，” he said aloud. He had seen the second fin now coming up behind the first and had identified them as shovel-nosed sharks by the brown， triangular fin and the sweeping movements of the tail. They had the scent and were excited and in the stupidity of their great hunger they were losing and finding the scent in their excitement. But they were closing all the time.

The old man made the sheet fast and jammed the tiller. Then he took up the oar with the knife lashed to it. He lifted it as lightly as he could because his hands rebelled at the pain. Then he opened and closed them on it lightly to loosen them. He closed them firmly so they would take the pain now and would not flinch and watched the sharks come. He could see their wide， flattened， shovel-pointed heads now and their white-tipped wide pectoral fins. They were hateful sharks， bad smelling， scavengers as well as killers， and when they were hungry they would bite at an oar or the rudder of a boat. It was these sharks that would cut the turtles' legs and flippers off when the turtles were asleep on the surface， and they would hit a man in the water， if they were hungry， even if the man had no smell of fish blood nor of fish slime on him.

“Ay，” the old man said.“Galanos. Come on galanos.”

They came. But they did not come as the Mako had come. One turned and went out of sight under the skiff and the old man could feel the skiff shake as he jerked and pulled on the fish. The other watched the old man with his slotted yellow eyes and then came in fast with his half circle of jaws wide to hit the fish where he had already been bitten. The line showed clearly on the top of his brown head and back where the brain joined the spinal cord and the old man drove the knife on the oar into the juncture， withdrew it， and drove it in again into the shark's yellow cat-like eyes. The shark let go of the fish and slid down， swallowing what he had taken as he died.

The skiff was still shaking with the destruction the other shark was doing to the fish and the old man let go the sheet so that the skiff would swing broadside and bring the shark out from under. When he saw the shark he leaned over the side and punched at him. He hit only meat and the hide was set hard and he barely got the knife in. The blow hurt not only his hands but his shoulder too. But the shark came up fast with his head out and the old man hit him squarely in the center of his flat-topped head as his nose came out of water and lay against the fish. The old man withdrew the blade and punched the shark exactly in the same spot again. He still hung to the fish with his jaws hooked and the old man stabbed him in his left eye. The shark still hung there.

“No?” the old man said and he drove the blade between the vertebrae and the brain. It was an easy shot now and he felt the cartilage sever. The old man reversed the oar and put the blade between the shark's jaws to open them. He twisted the blade and as the shark slid loose he said，“Go on， galano. Slide down a mile deep. Go see your friend， or maybe it's your mother.”

The old man wiped the blade of his knife and laid down the oar. Then he found the sheet and the sail filled and he brought the skiff onto her course.

“They must have taken a quarter of him and of the best meat，” he said aloud.“I wish it were a dream and that I had never hooked him. I'm sorry about it， fish. It makes everything wrong.” He stopped and he did not want to look at the fish now. Drained of blood and awash he looked the colour of the silver backing of a mirror and his stripes still showed.

“I shouldn't have gone out so far， fish，” he said.“Neither for you nor for me， I'm sorry， fish.” Now， he said to himself. Look to the lashing on the knife and see if it had been cut. Then get your hand in order because there still is more to come.

“I wish I had a stone for the knife，” the old man said after he had checked the lashing on the oar butt.“I should have brought a stone.” You should have brought many things， he thought. But you did not bring them， old man. Now is not time to think of what you do not have. Think of what you can do with what there is.

“You give me much good counsel，” he said aloud.“I'm tired of it.”

He held the tiller under his arm and soaked both his hands in the water as the skiff drove forward.

“God knows how much that last one took，” he said.

“But she's much lighter now.” He did not want to think of the mutilated under-side of the fish. He knew that each of the jerking bumps of the shark had been meat torn away and that the fish now made a trail for all sharks as wide as a highway through the sea.

He was a fish to keep a man all winter， he thought. Don't think of that. Just rest and try to get your hands in shape to defend what is left of him. The blood smell from my hands means nothing now with all that scent in the water. Besides they do not bleed much. There is nothing but that means anything. The bleeding may keep the left from cramping.

What can I think of now? He thought. Nothing. I must think of nothing and wait for the next ones. I wish it had really been a dream， he thought. But who knows it might have turned out well.

The next shark that came was a single shovelnose. He came like a pig to the trough if a pig had a mouth so wide that you could put your head in it. The old man let him hit the fish and then drove the knife on the oar down into his brain. But the shark jerked backwards as he rolled and the knife blade snapped.

The old man settled himself to steer. He did not even watch the big shark sinking slowly in the water， showing first life-size， then small， then tiny. That always fascinated the old man. But he did not even watch it now.

“I have the gaff now，” he said.“But it will do no good. I have the two oars and the tiller and the short club.”

Now they have beaten me， he thought. I am too old to club sharks to death. But I will try it as long as I have the oars and the short club and the tiller.

He put his hands in the water again to soak them. It was getting late in the afternoon and he saw nothing but the sea and the sky. There was more wind in the sky than there had been， and soon he hoped that he would see land.

“You're tired， old man，” he said.“You're tired inside.”

The sharks did not hit him again until just before sunset.

The old man saw the brown fins coming along the wide trail the fish must make in the water. They were not even quartering on the scent. They were headed straight for the skiff swimming side by side.

He jammed the tiller， made the sheet fast and reached under the stern for the club. It was an oar handle from a broken oar sawed off to about two and a half feet in length. He could only use it effectively with one hand because of the grip of the handle and he took good hold of it with his right hand， flexing his hand on it， as he watched the sharks come. They were both galanos.

I must let the first one get a good hold and hit him on the point of the nose or straight across the top of the head， he thought.

The two sharks closed together and as he saw the one nearest him open his jaws and sink them into the silver side of the fish， he raised the club high and brought it down heavy and slamming onto the top of the shark's broad head. He felt the rubbery solidity as the club came down. But he felt the rigidity of bone too and he struck the shark once more hard across the point of the nose as he slid down from the fish.

The other shark had been in and out and now came in again with his jaws wide. The old man could see pieces of the meat of the fish spilling white from the corner of his jaws as he bumped the fish and closed his jaws. He swung at him and hit only the head and the shark looked at him and wrenched the meat loose. The old man swung the club down on him again as he slipped away to swallow and hit only the heavy solid rubberiness.

“Come on， galano，” the old man said.“Come in again.”

The shark came in a rush and the old man hit him as he shut his jaws. He hit him solidly and from as high up as he could raise the club. This time he felt the bone at the base of the brain and he hit him again in the same place while the shark tore the meat loose sluggishly and slid down from the fish.

The old man watched for him to come again but neither shark showed. Then he saw one on the surface swimming in circles. He did not see the fin of the other.

I could not expect to kill them， he thought. I could have in my time. But I have hurt them both badly and neither one can feel very good. If I could have used a bat with two hands I could have killed the first one surely. Even now， he thought.

He did not want to look at the fish. He knew that half of him had been destroyed. The sun had gone down while he had been in the fight with the sharks.

“It will be dark soon，” he said.“Then I should see the glow of Havana. If I am too far to the eastward I will see the lights of one of the new beaches.”

I cannot be too far out now， he thought. I hope no one has been too worried. There is only the boy to worry， of course. But I am sure he would have confidence. Many of the older fishermen will worry. Many others too， he thought. I live in a good town.

He could not talk to the fish anymore because the fish had been ruined too badly. Then something came into his head.

“Half fish，” he said.“Fish that you were. I am sorry that I went too far out. I ruined us both. But we have killed many sharks， you and I， and ruined many others. How many did you ever kill， old fish? You do not have that spear on your head for nothing.”

He liked to think of the fish and what he could do to a shark if he were swimming free. I should have chopped the bill off to fight them with， he thought. But there was no hatchet and then there was no knife.

But if I had， and could have lashed it to an oar butt， what a weapon. Then we might have fought them together. What will you do now if they come in the night? What can you do?

“Fight them，” he said.“I'll fight them until I die.”

But in the dark now and no glow showing and no lights and only the wind and the steady pull of the sail he felt that perhaps he was already dead. He put his two hands together and felt the palms. They were not dead and he could bring the pain of life by simply opening and closing them. He leaned his back against the stern and knew he was not dead. His shoulders told him.

I have all those prayers I promised if I caught the fish， he thought. But I am too tired to say them now. I better get the sack and put it over my shoulders.

He lay in the stern and steered and watched for the glow to come in the sky. I have half of him， he thought. Maybe I'll have the luck to bring the forward half in. I should have some luck. No， he said. You violated your luck when you went too far outside.

“Don't be silly，” he said aloud.“And keep awake and steer. You may have much luck yet.”

“I'd like to buy some if there's any place they sell it，” he said.

What could I buy it with? he asked himself. Could I buy it with a lost harpoon and a broken knife and two bad hands?

“You might，” he said.“You tried to buy it with eighty-four days at sea. They nearly sold it to you too.”

I must not think nonsense， he thought. Luck is a thing that comes in many forms and who can recognize her? I would take some thought in any form and pay what they asked. I wish I could see the glow from the lights， he thought. I wish too many things. But that is the thing I wish for now. He tried to settle more comfortably of steer and from his pain he knew he was not dead.

He saw the reflected glare of the lights of the city at what must have been around ten o'clock at night. They were only perceptible at first as the light is in the sky before the moon rises. Then they were steady of see across the ocean which was rough now with the increasing breeze. He steered inside of the glow and he thought that now， soon， he must hit the edge of the stream.

Now it is over， he thought. They will probably hit me again. But what can a man do against them in the dark without a weapon?

He was stiff and sore now and his wounds and all of the strained parts of his body hurt with the cold of the night. I hope I do not have to fight again， he thought. I hope so much I do not have to fight again.

But by midnight he fought and this time he knew the fight was useless. They came in a pack and he could only see the lines in the water that their fins made and their phosphorescence as they threw themselves on the fish. He clubbed at heads and heard the jaws chop and the shaking of the skiff as they took hold below. He clubbed desperately at what he could only feel and hear and he felt something seized the club and it was gone.

He jerked the tiller free from the rudder and beat and chopped with it， holding it in both hands and driving it down again and again. But they were up to the bow now and driving in one after the other and together， tearing off the pieces of meat that showed glowing below the sea as they turned to come once more.

One came， finally， against the head itself and he knew that it was over. He swung the tiller across the shark's head where the jaws were caught in the heaviness of the fish's head which would not tear. He swung it once and twice and again. He heard the tiller break and he lunged at the shark with the splintered butt. He felt it go in and knowing it was sharp he drove it in again. The shark let go and rolled away. That was the last shark of the pack that came. There was nothing more for them to eat.

The old man could hardly breathe now and he felt a strange taste in his mouth. It was coppery and sweet and he was afraid of it for a moment. But there was not much of it.

He spat into the ocean and said，“Eat that， galanos. And make a dream you've killed a man.”

He knew he was beaten now finally and without remedy and he went back to the stern and found the jagged end of the tiller would fit in the slot of the rudder well enough for him to steer. He settled the sack around his shoulders and put the skiff on her course. He sailed lightly now and he had no thoughts nor any feelings of any kind. He was past everything now and he sailed the skiff to make his homeport as well and as intelligently as he could. In the night sharks hit the carcass as someone might pick up crumbs from the table. The old man paid no attention to them and did not pay any attention to anything except steering. He only noticed how lightly and how well the skiff sailed now there was no great weight beside her.

She's good， he thought. She is sound and not harmed in any way except for the tiller. That is easily replaced.

He could feel he was inside the current now and he could see the lights of the beach colonies along the shore. He knew where he was now and it was nothing to get home.

The wind is our friend， anyway， he thought. Then he added， sometimes. And the great sea with our friends and our enemies. And bed， he thought. Bed is my friend. Just bed， he thought. Bed will be a great thing. It is easy when you are beaten， he thought. I never knew how easy it was. And what beat you， he thought.

“Nothing，” he said aloud.“I went out too far.”

When he sailed into the little harbour the lights of the Terrace were out and he knew everyone was in bed. The breeze had risen steadily and was blowing strongly now. It was quiet in the harbour though and he sailed up onto the little patch of shingle below the rocks. There was no one to help him so he pulled the boat up as far as he could. Then he stepped out and made her fast to a rock.

He unstepped the mast and furled the sail and tied it. Then he shouldered the mast and started to climb. It was then he knew the depth of his tiredness. He stopped for a moment and looked back and saw in the reflection from the street light the great tail of the fish standing up well behind the skiff's stern. He saw the white naked line of his backbone and the dark mass of the head with the projecting bill and all the nakedness between.

He started to climb again and at the top he fell and lay for some time with the mast across his shoulder. He tried to get up. But it was too difficult and he sat there with the mast on his shoulder and looked at the road. A cat passed on the far side going about its business and the old man watched it. Then he just watched the road.

Finally he put the mast down and stood up. He picked the mast up and put it on his shoulder and started up the road. He had to sit down five times before he reached his shack.

Inside the shack he leaned the mast against the wall. In the dark he found a water bottle and took a drink. Then he lay down on the bed. He pulled the blanket over his shoulders and then over his back and legs and he slept face down on the newspapers with his arms out straight and the palms of his hands up.

He was asleep when the boy looked in the door in the morning. It was blowing so hard that the drifting-boats would not be going out and the boy had slept late and then come to the old man's shack as he had come each morning. The boy saw that the old man was breathing and then he saw the old man's hands and he started to cry. He went out very quietly to go to bring some coffee and all the way down the road he was crying.

Many fishermen were around the skiff looking at what was lashed beside it and one was in the water， his trousers rolled up， measuring the skeleton with a length of line.

The boy did not go down. He had been there before and one of the fishermen was looking after the skiff for him.

“How is he?” one of the fishermen shouted.

“Sleeping，” the boy called. He did not care that they saw him crying.“Let no one disturb him.”

“He was eighteen feet from nose to tail，” the fisherman who was measuring him called.

“I believe it，” the boy said.

He went into the Terrace and asked for a can of coffee.

“Hot and with plenty of milk and sugar in it.”

“Anything more?”

“No. Afterwards I will see what he can eat.”

“What a fish it was，” the proprietor said.“There has never been such a fish. Those were two fine fish you took yesterday too.”

“Damn my fish，” the boy said and he started to cry again.

“Do you want a drink of any kind?” the proprietor asked.

“No，” the boy said.“Tell them not to bother Santiago. I'll be back.”

“Tell him how sorry I am.”

“Thanks，” the boy said.

The boy carried the hot can of coffee up to the old man's shack and sat by him until he woke. Once it looked as though he were waking. But he had gone back into heavy sleep and the boy had gone across the road to borrow some wood to heat the coffee.

Finally the old man woke.

“Don't sit up，” the boy said.“Drink this.” He poured some of the coffee in a glass.

The old man took it and drank it.

“They beat me， Manolin，” he said.“They truly beat me.”

“He didn't beat you. Not the fish.”

“No. Truly， It was afterwards.”

“Pedrico is looking after the skiff and the gear. What do you want done with the head?”

“Let Pedrico chop it up to use in fish traps.”

“And the spear?”

“You keep it if you want it.”

“I want it，” the boy said.“Now we must make our plans about the other things.”

“Did they search for me?”

“Of course. With coast guard and with planes.”

“The ocean is very big and a skiff is small and hard to see，” the old man said. He noticed how pleasant it was to have someone to talk to instead of speaking only to himself and to the sea.“I missed you，” he said.“What did you catch?”

“One the first day. One the second and two the third.”

“Very good.”

“Now we fish together again.”

“No. I am not lucky. I am not lucky anymore.”“The hell with luck，” the boy said.“I'll bring the luck with me.”

“What will your family say?”

“I do not care. I caught two yesterday. But we will fish together now for I still have much to learn.”

“We must get good killing lance and always have it on board. You can make the blade from a spring leaf from an old Ford. We can grind it in Guanabacoa. It should be sharp and not tempered so it will break. My knife broke.”

“I'll get another knife and have the spring ground. How many days of heavy breeze have we?”

“Maybe three. Maybe more.”

“I will have everything in order，” the boy said.“You get your hands well old man.”

“I know how to care for them. In the night I spat something strange and felt something in my chest was broken.”

“Get that well too，” the boy said.“Lie down， old man， and I will bring you your clean shirt. And something to eat.”

“Bring any of the papers of the time that I was gone，” the old man said.

“You must get well fast for there is much that I can learn and you can teach me everything. How much did you suffer?”

“Plenty，” the old man said.

“I'll bring the food and the papers，” the boy said.“Rest well， old man. I will bring stuff from the drugstore for your hands.”

“Don't forget to tell Pedrico the head is his.”

“No. I will remember.”

As the boy went out the door and down the worn coral rock road he was crying again.

That afternoon there was a party of tourists at the Terrace and looking down in the water among the empty beer cans and dead barracudas a woman saw a great long white spine with a huge tail at the end that lifted and swung with the tide while the east wind blew a heavy steady sea outside the entrance to the harbor.

“What's that?” she asked a waiter and pointed to the long backbone of the great fish that was now just garbage waiting to go out with the tide.

“Tiburon，” the waiter said.“e-shark.” He was meaning to explain what had happened.

“I didn't know sharks had such handsome， beautifully formed tails.”

“I didn't either，” her male companion said.

Up the road， in his shack， the old man was sleeping again. He was still sleeping on his face and the boy was sitting by him watching him. The old man was dreaming about the lions.

莎士比亚故事集：英汉对照

序言

本书的故事作为莎士比亚戏剧的启蒙，是专门奉献给小读者的，因此，所采用的语言平白如话，似乎随时可以把读者带进故事中去。而且，为了保持故事的连惯性，行文非常注意选择原作中那些不妨碍优美的英语表达效果的语言，这些语言可能自莎士比亚时代就被淘汰了，而在这里却被引进到我们的故事中来。

那些已经弱化了的悲剧性的故事，读者若对照原作，他们将会发觉，许多莎士比亚的原话略作改动后，非常频繁地重现在故事的叙述和对话里。但是在那些改编自喜剧的故事中，作者发现几乎很难把原著中人物的语言转换成叙述的形式，所以担心，对话使用得太频繁可能会影响到故事的生动性，不符合小读者的阅读习惯。这样的缺憾，假如算作缺憾的话，希望通过尽可能多地采用莎士比亚的原话给予弥补：“他说”和“她说”这样的问与答，似乎低龄的读者读起来会感到枯燥，那么一定请你们原谅，因为那是理清故事来龙去脉的唯一办法，其中包含太多的意味，要等到你们长大后，从这些故事中获得更多的人生经验，那时这些阅读中可能有的小小的微不足道的麻烦就会排除掉。再也没有其他更好的办法，来避免淡化莎士比亚的无与伦比的人物形象了，这是个顶好的借口。你们一定会说，人物形象模糊而不完整。这是因为，莎士比亚的许多漂亮的对话被肢解了，许多极好的对话不得不变成了叙述，其表达效果远不及他的本意，以至于读起来有几分像散文。并且，故事中在一些地方保留了他的素体诗，我们希望通过它的简洁明快诱发小读者们相信他们读的是散文。好在莎士比亚的语言仍然被从它自己的泥土和野性的诗歌花园里移植了过来，从而保留了许多与生俱来的美。

希望这些故事连少儿也能容易读懂。在作者的头脑中，他们始终竭尽全力坚持这样的想法，但是要做到这一点，每篇故事写起来都非常难。因为，要想把男人和女人的故事，用浅显易懂的文字让非常小的孩子们理解，不是一件容易的事。这些故事大多是为女孩子们写的，因为，男孩子通常比女孩子更早地被允许使用父亲的藏书室，他们常常拥有最好的熟读莎士比亚的条件，被允许先于他们的姐妹浏览这种适合男人阅读的书籍。男孩子们能够阅读到整个原著，所以就不必劝他们精读这些故事了，如果说他们能够提供更好的帮助，便是当姐妹们遇到阅读障碍，会请求他们解释那些她们难以理解的部分：当他们帮助她们克服这些困难的时候，也许会为她们读一些段落（仔细选择适合女孩子们听的），正是那些段落让他们也喜爱上了这些故事。希望他们找到那些美好的精华部分，根据姐妹们对故事大体上的把握，以这样的方式为她们选读一些章节，以便帮助她们更好地欣赏和理解故事内容。如果幸运的话，会发现这种作法能为每一位小读者带来乐趣，并且不至于因为年纪小而详细阅读了剧本，可能产生坏的结果。当聪明的朋友把这部书捧在手里的时候，他们将发现剧本里许多令人惊讶的事件和命运的转变，在这里被删节了，那是因为，一本小书容纳不下无限变化的事件和命运。此外，剧本中丰富多彩的世界，令人愉快的男人和女人们，以及幽默的语言，由于努力压缩篇幅的缘故，也势必会失去一些光彩。

这些故事是属于“小”读者的，作者更希望他们长大后阅读真正的莎士比亚的剧本，那些剧本是想象的浓缩器和美德的助力器，能帮助你从自私和唯利是图的思想中跳出来，它们是培养一切美好和正直的思想与行为的课堂，它们教人谦恭、仁慈、慷慨、博爱，总之，那些书页上记录了这一切美德的榜样。

暴风雨

大海中有一座岛屿，岛上仅有的居民是一位名叫普洛斯彼罗的老人以及他的女儿米兰达，一位非常美丽的姑娘。她来到这座岛上的时候年纪还小，以至于除了父亲，她不记得曾经见过其他人的面孔。

他们住在一座用岩石造的洞屋里；洞屋被分成几个房间，其中的一间被普洛斯彼罗称为书房；里面存放着他的书籍，主要是涉及魔法的，那时候，凡是有学问的人都喜欢研究魔法，而且他发现这种学问对他非常有用。他是由于一个奇怪的机缘漂到这个岛上来的。一个叫西考拉克斯的女巫给岛屿施了魔法，许多善良的精灵因拒绝执行她的邪恶命令，全都被她囚禁在大树的树身里。就在普洛斯彼罗到来前不久，那女巫死了，于是普洛斯彼罗凭借他的技艺，将他们从树身中解救出来。这些温驯的精灵从此一直诚服于普洛斯彼罗。爱丽儿就是他们当中的首领。

活泼的小精灵爱丽儿本性不坏，只是有点乐于捉弄丑陋的怪物凯列班，因为凯列班是他的宿敌西考拉克斯的儿子，他便把怨恨都归咎于他了。凯列班是普洛斯彼罗在森林里发现的一个长得怪模怪样的畸形家伙，与其说外形上远不如人类，倒不如说更像一只猿猴。普洛斯彼罗把他带回他的洞屋的家，并教他说话。普洛斯彼罗对他非常仁慈，但是凯列班从他母亲西考拉克斯那里遗传的恶劣天性，不让他学习任何好的或有用的东西。于是他就像一个被雇佣的奴隶，负责砍柴以及其他最累的苦工；爱丽儿有权强制他做这些劳役。

凯列班一旦偷懒和玩忽职守，爱丽儿（除了普洛斯彼罗，所有人的眼睛都看不见他）就会不为察觉地跑来掐他，有时候将他摔倒在泥沼里，再变出猴子的样子用嘴咬他。然后，迅速变身，变成刺猬，埋进凯列班经过的路上，凯列班最怕刺猬锋利的钢毛刺痛他赤裸的脚板。只要凯列班对普洛斯彼罗交给的工作表示怠慢，爱丽儿便会用各种各样诸如此类令他大伤脑筋的招术折磨他。

有这些厉害的精灵服从自己的意志，普洛斯彼罗便可以借助他们的手段呼风唤雨，控制海浪。在他的命令下，他们招来一场暴风雨，在海上，一艘漂亮的大船正跟狂野的海浪进行着搏斗，随时都会被海浪吞掉。普洛斯彼罗将这艘漂亮的大船指给他女儿，告诉她船上满载着像他们自己一样鲜活的生命。“啊，我亲爱的父亲，”她说，“假如您凭借您的法术兴起了这场可怕的暴风雨，就请您怜悯他们悲哀的不幸吧！看！这艘船就要被毁成碎片了。可怜的人们，他们都将毁灭！如果我有法力，我宁愿让大海沉到地球下面去，也不愿让这美丽的大船和船里那些宝贵的生灵毁灭。”

“不要惊慌，我的女儿米兰达，”普洛斯彼罗说，“那里不会有危险。我已经安排好了，船里不会有人受到任何伤害。我要做的就是照顾好你，我可爱的孩子。你还不知道你是谁，从哪里来，你对我的了解也不多，除了我是你父亲以及我们住的这个简陋的洞屋，你对其他一切一无所知。还记得你来洞屋之前的事情吗？我想你记不起来了，因为那时你还不满3岁。”

“我当然记得，父亲。”米兰达回答说。

“记得什么？”普洛斯彼罗问，“你记得我们从前的房子或者任何熟悉的人吗？告诉我你记得的，我的孩子。”

米兰达说：“对我来说，这就像回忆一场梦。但是，难道曾经不是有四五个女人服侍过我吗？”普洛斯彼罗回答说：“不仅有，甚至有更多。这个是如何保留在你头脑里的呢？你记得你是怎么到这儿来的吗？”

“不，父亲，”米兰达说，“再多我想不起来了。”

“12年以前，米兰达，”普洛斯彼罗继续说道，“我是米兰公爵，而你是一位公主，我的唯一继承人。我有一个弟弟，名叫安东尼奥，我凡事都信赖他。因为我自己乐意引退，钻研学问，我通常把国家事务的管理统统留给你的叔叔，我那无信无义的弟弟（他的确证实了这一点）。我无视世间的一切，埋头于我的书籍当中，把全部时间都用于对自我的提升和学习。我弟弟安东尼奥，因此大权在握，开始谋划让自己做真正的公爵。是我给了他受世人拥戴的机会，却唤起他用罪恶的天性和自负的野心剥夺了我的公爵领地。他在那不勒斯国王，一位强大的国君、我的敌人的帮助下，很快达到了目的。”

“为什么，”米兰达问，“他们那时不杀死我们呢？”

“我的孩子，”他父亲回答，“他们不敢，令他们畏惧的是我的人民对我的爱戴。安东尼奥将我们押上一条大船，当我们在海上驶出十几里以外，他强迫我们上了一条小船，不给任何工具，既没有船帆，也没有桅杆。他们把我们丢在那儿，按他的预谋，我们将葬身大海。但是，我的一位善良的宫庭老臣，叫贡柴罗，他怜惜我，偷偷地将水、食物、衣服，以及一些在我看来比我的公爵领地还要珍贵的书籍，放在船里。”

“哦，父亲，”米兰达说，“我那时一定给您带来了莫大的烦累！”

“不，亲爱的，”普洛斯彼罗说，“你是一个保佑我的小天使。你天真无邪的微笑让我振作起来，顽强抵御不幸。我们的食物一直维持到我们最终踏上这座荒岛。那时候，我最大的快乐就是教授你知识，米兰达，并让你得益于我的教导。”

“真感谢您啊，我亲爱的父亲，”米兰达说。“现在，请您告诉我，父亲，您掀起这场海上暴风雨有什么理由呢？”

“我来说给你听，”她父亲说，“借助这场暴风雨，我的敌人那不勒斯国王和我那冷酷无情的弟弟，都将被抛到这个岛上。”

正说着，普洛斯彼罗用魔杖轻轻碰了一下女儿，她便很快睡着了。因为，就在这个时候，精灵爱丽儿现身在他主人面前，向主人报告暴风雨的情形以及他是如何处置船上那帮人的。尽管米兰达始终看不见精灵爱丽儿，普洛斯彼罗也还是不想让她听到他跟空空如也的空气谈话（对她来说似乎如此）。

“好啊，勇敢的小精灵，”普洛斯彼罗对爱丽儿说，“告诉我，你是如何执行任务的？”

爱丽儿生动地描述了暴风雨的场面，水手们的惊恐，以及王子腓迪南是怎样第一个跳进大海的；他的父王亲眼看见，以为自己亲爱的儿子被海浪吞没、消失了。“但是他不会有事的，”爱丽儿说，“在岛上的一个角落里，他被我捆住了手臂，坐在那儿悲伤地哀悼失去的国王，他的父亲，他推测他已经淹死了。其实，他毫发未损，尽管他高贵的华服被海水弄湿了，可看起来倒是比以前更鲜亮了。”

“机灵的爱丽儿，”普洛斯彼罗说。“把他带到这儿来，我女儿应该见见这位年轻王子。我那弟弟和国王在哪儿？”

“我离开他们时，他们正在无望地寻找腓迪南，”爱丽儿回答，“他们都以为亲眼看见他淹死了。船员一个也没少，尽管每个人都以为自己是唯一的幸存者。而那艘船，他们虽然看不见它，它却安全地停在一个隐蔽处。”

“爱丽儿，”普洛斯彼罗说，“你忠实地履行了责任，但是你还有更多的工作要做。”

“更多的工作？”爱丽儿问。“请让我提醒您，主人，您已经答应给我自由了。我想您应该记得，我怎样为您尽职地服务，我没对您说过一句谎话，也不曾有过一次过失，对于您的吩咐我从不违拗，也不抱怨。”

“怎么，”普洛斯彼罗说，“你也不想想我怎样把你从痛苦中解救出来的。你忘了邪恶的女巫西考拉克斯是怎样随着年纪增长妒意倍增的吗？她在何处诞生？嗯？告诉我！”

“在阿尔及尔，主人，”爱丽儿回答。

“噢，是这样吗？”普洛斯彼罗问。“我得告诉你，你曾经是什么，我在哪里发现你的，这些你已经不记得了。这个坏女巫，西考拉克斯，她的魔法没有人听了不害怕，所以她被赶出了阿尔及尔，并被水手们丢在这个地方。而你是个太聪明的精灵，以至于不愿执行她邪恶的命令，于是她就把你关进一棵大树，正是在那树里，我听到了你的嚎叫。记住，是我把你从痛苦中解救出来的。”

“对不起，亲爱的主人，”爱丽儿说，他为自己似乎不领情而羞愧。“我愿意服从您的吩咐。”

“你若这么做，我会给你自由的。”普洛斯彼罗说。随后他布置给他下一步工作。爱丽儿走开了，他先去了腓迪南呆的地方，发现他仍悲伤地坐在草地上。

“啊，年轻的先生，”爱丽儿望着他说，“我要马上给你挪个地方，我想，你得被带到米兰达小姐跟前，让她看一眼你的俊美容貌。来吧，先生，跟我来。”然后他开始唱道：

五寻水深处躺着你父亲，

他的骨头已化成珊瑚礁，

他的眼睛已变成明珠儿：

他已消失得无处寻踪影，

他因海水的变幻而痛苦，

化成瑰宝，富丽而珍怪。

海神时时摇响他的丧钟：

听！我听到了那叮咚声。

有关失去了的父亲的这个奇怪消息，很快把王子从恍惚中唤醒，又再次将他击倒。他惊奇地跟随着爱丽儿的声音，直到那声音将他带到普洛斯彼罗和米兰达身边。米兰达正坐在一棵大树下。在此之前，她还从未见过一个男人，除了她自己的父亲。

“米兰达，”普洛斯彼罗说，“告诉我，你在那边看见了什么？”

“哦，父亲，”米兰达惊奇地说，“那完全是个神灵吧。天哪！他有着怎样的相貌！相信我，父亲，他是个美丽的造物。他难道不是一位神灵吗？”

“不，女儿，”她父亲回答说，“他和我们一样吃饭、睡觉，也和我们一样有感觉。你看见的这个年轻人方才就在那艘船上。要不是忧伤改变了他的模样，你或许可以称他美男子。他失去了同伴，正四处徘徊寻找他们呢。”

米兰达原以为所有的男人都有着他父亲那样严肃的脸孔和灰白的胡须，她为这个年轻英俊的王子的出现而欣喜。在这座荒岛上，腓迪南意外地见到这样一位美丽的姑娘，并且听到陌生人的声音，他惊奇得不知所措，以为自己是到了一座魔幻岛上，而米兰达就是岛上的女神。他如此这般地称呼她开始跟她交谈。

米兰达羞怯地回答，她不是女神，而是一个单纯的姑娘。她正打算给他一些解释，就在这时，普洛斯彼罗打断了她。发现两个年轻人彼此欣赏，普洛斯彼罗高兴极了。他明显觉察到他们一见钟情（如我们所说的那样）。为了考验腓迪南是否真心，他决定从中为他设置一些障碍。所以，他走上前，用严厉的语调让王子告诉他，他是不是来这岛上做密探，想要从他手中夺去对岛屿的所有权。“跟我来，”他说。“我要把你的脖子和双脚绑在一起，让你喝海水，再拿贝壳、枯萎的树根、橡树果实为你充饥。”

“不，”腓迪南说，“我反抗这种待遇，除非我发现我的对手更强大，”说着，他抽出剑来。普洛斯彼罗挥动魔杖，将他镇住，使他无力挪动脚步。

米兰达阻止父亲说：“您为什么这样不和蔼呢？怜悯点吧，我愿意做他的担保人。这是我见过的第二个男人，而且对我来说他似乎是不错的一个。”

“别吱声！”父亲说，“女儿，再多嘴我饶不了你！怎么，你想帮一个骗子说话吗？你认为没有比这个家伙更好的人了吗？因为你只看到了他和凯列班。我告诉你，傻丫头，很多男人都胜过这个凯列班似的家伙。”他这样说，是想证实他女儿是否坚定不移。而她回答说：

“我对爱情是谦卑的，我不想遇见一个比他更优秀的男人。”

“来吧，年轻人，”普洛斯彼罗对王子说，“你没有能力不服从我。”

“我的确没有，”腓迪南回答。他不明白正是魔法使他完全丧失了反抗能力。他惊讶地发现自己如此奇怪地顺从于普洛斯彼罗。他一路回头望着米兰达，直到看不见她。当他跟随普洛斯彼罗进入洞屋，他说：“我的心被整个拴住了，好像在做梦；如果让我每天都能从牢房里望一眼这位美丽的姑娘，那么这个人的恐吓和我感到的浑身的软弱也就不算什么了。”

普洛斯彼罗并没有长时间将腓迪南幽禁在狭窄的洞屋里：他很快把他带了出来，派他去执行一项艰巨的任务，并特意让女儿知道他强加给他的这个苦差事，然后假装走进书房，秘密观察他们两个。

普洛斯彼罗命令腓迪南去堆放沉重的原木。国王的儿子吃不消繁重的工作，米兰达很快发现她的恋人几乎要累死了。“唉！”她说，“别这么拼命干活了，我父亲在他书房里，这三个小时不会有事，快请歇歇吧。”

“啊，亲爱的小姐，”腓迪南说，“我可不敢。我必须做完我的工作再休息。”

“如果你坐下来的话，”米兰达说，“这会儿我来搬运你的原木。”可腓迪南坚决不同意。米兰达的帮忙反倒成了一种妨碍，因为他们开始长时间交谈，以至于搬运原木的事进行得非常慢。

普洛斯彼罗吩咐腓迪南做这项工作只不过是作为他的爱情的考验，他并没有像他女儿猜想的那样沉浸在他的书籍里，而是站在他们看不见的地方，偷听他们说什么。

腓迪南询问她的名字，她告诉了他，这样说出它，其实已经违反了她父亲的明确要求。

普洛斯彼罗对女儿头一次违抗父命只是一笑置之，因为正是由于他的法术，她才如此突然地坠入爱河，所以，对于女儿忘掉他的命令而表示她的爱情，他并不生气。他很高兴听到腓迪南的大段表白，断言他对她的爱超过他见过的所有女人。

他说她的美丽超过世上一切女人，作为对他的赞美的回应，她答道：“我不记得见过任何女人的脸，也没见过比你，我的好朋友和我亲爱的父亲更多的男人。异国人的面貌怎样，我不知道；但是，相信我，先生，这世上除了你，我不渴望任何伴侣，除了你的形象，我也想象不出任何别人叫我喜爱的形象。可是，先生，我担心我的话太直率了，我忘记了父亲的告诫。”

普洛斯彼罗笑了，点点头，等于说：“一切正合我意；我的小姑娘就要成为那不勒斯女王了。”

接着，腓迪南在另一大段美好的表白里（年轻的王子使用礼貌的措词谈话），告诉天真无邪的米兰达，他是那不勒斯的王权继承人，而她将做他的王后。

“啊，先生，”她说，“我像个傻瓜一样高兴得眼泪都流出来了。我将以纯朴无华和圣洁纯真回报你。如果你愿意娶我，我就是你的妻子。”

普洛斯彼罗现身于他们面前，以此阻止了腓迪南的谢意。

“别害怕，我的孩子，”他说；“我无意中听到，并赞成你们所说的。而且，腓迪南，如果我使唤你太严厉了，我将给你最贵重的陪罪，把我的女儿嫁给你。所有令你懊恼的事只是为了考验你的爱，而你勇敢地经受住了考验。那么作为我的礼物，把我的女儿带走吧，这也是你对她真正的爱情应得的，不要笑我夸口，无论你怎么称赞她，都抵不上她本人的好。”然后，他告诉他们，他有事情需要去办，希望他们坐下来一块聊聊，直到他回来。对于这个命令，看来米兰达似乎根本不愿意违背。

普洛斯彼罗离开他们后，召唤他的精灵爱丽儿，他很快出现在他面前，热情地讲述他对普洛斯彼罗的弟弟和那不勒斯国王做了什么。爱丽儿说，他留下几乎失魂落魄的他们，并使他们耳闻目睹这一桩桩奇怪的事情。就在他们走得疲惫不堪又没有食物裹腹的时候，他突然在他们面前摆下盛宴，尔后，当他们正打算大吃一顿的时候，他以鹰身女妖的模样现身，这个长有翅膀的贪婪怪物一出现，宴席就消失了。接着，面对他们全然的惊愕，这个看起来像鹰身女妖的怪物开口讲话了，他的话让他们回想起当初将普洛斯彼罗赶出领地时，他们自己有多残忍，他们将他和他年幼的女儿抛弃在茫茫大海上。怪物说，正因此，他们这些恶人如今才痛苦地遭此报应。

那不勒斯国王和不守信的弟弟安东尼奥为他们对普洛斯彼罗的不义行为而惭愧。爱丽儿告诉主人，他觉得他们的忏悔是真诚的，尽管他是一个精灵，他对他们也只有可怜的分儿。

“爱丽儿，带他们到这里来，”普洛斯彼罗说：“你不过是一个精灵，如果连你都觉得他们痛苦难当，那么作为和他们一样的人类，我会不同情他们吗？快将他们带来，我可爱的精灵。”

爱丽儿很快回来了，身后跟着那不勒斯国王、安东尼奥和老臣贡柴罗。他们对爱丽儿在半空中演奏的庄严乐曲感到很惊奇，那音乐引领他们来到普洛斯彼罗的住所。贡柴罗就是那同一个人，当邪恶的弟弟把普洛斯彼罗抛弃在大海上，打算让他毁灭在敞舱的小船里时，正是他，仁慈地提供了书籍和食物。

悲伤和恐惧使他们的神经变得如此麻木，以至于他们已认不出普洛斯彼罗了。普洛斯彼罗看到好心的老贡柴罗，连连称他为救命恩人；随后，他弟弟和国王才明白，眼前这个人正是被害的普洛斯彼罗。

安东尼奥悲伤得涕泪纵横，他后悔当初所做的一切，并请求他哥哥的宽恕。那不勒斯国王也真诚地表示懊悔曾经帮助安东尼奥废除兄长。普洛斯彼罗宽恕了他们。在他们答应归还他的公爵领地后，他对那不勒斯国王说：“我也为你保管着一个礼物。”于是将门打开，给他看正在跟米兰达下棋的他的儿子腓迪南。

没有什么比父子俩意外相逢更高兴的了，因为在他们各自的想象中对方早就葬身在暴风雨中的大海里了。

“哦，太神奇了！”米兰达惊叹道，“这里有这么多高贵的人！这样的人居住的地方一定是个了不起的世界！”

那不勒斯国王看见年轻美貌的米兰达，就跟他儿子当初看到米兰达一样，惊讶万分，“这个女孩是谁？”他问道，“她好像就是那个把我们拆散，然后又让我们聚在一起的女神。”

“不，父亲，”腓迪南微笑着回答，他发现父亲陷入了迷惑之中，就像他第一次看见米兰达时一样，“她是凡间之人，但是凭着不朽的上帝之意，她是属于我的。我选择她做我的妻子，当时不能征得您的同意，因为我没想到您还活着。她就是著名的米兰公爵普洛斯彼罗的女儿。他的声望我早有耳闻，可是以前从来没有见过。是他让我重获新生，并把这位可爱的小姐许配给我，他是我的第二个父亲。”

“如此说来，我也一定是她的父亲了，”国王说，“但是，听起来多么奇怪，我必须向我的孩子请求宽恕。”

“不用再说了，”普洛斯彼罗说，“让我们忘记那些不快，自从他们拥有这份幸福，过去的一切都结束了。”普洛斯彼罗拥抱了他的弟弟，再一次表示对他的宽恕，并且说，是上帝的旨意让他从可怜的米兰公爵领地上被逐出，他的女儿才可能继承那不勒斯的王权，因为从荒岛上相见的那一刻起，国王的儿子对米兰达的爱情就发生了。

普洛斯彼罗的一番话，对他弟弟无疑是一种宽慰。此时的安东尼奥整个儿被羞愧和懊悔占据了，他哭泣得说不出话来。好心的老贡柴罗含泪目睹了这场令人高兴的和解，并祈祷一对新人幸福。

现在，普洛斯彼罗告诉他们，他们的船正安全地停泊在海港，水手们都呆在甲板上，而且明天早晨，他将和女儿一起陪伴他们回家。“同时，”他说，“请你们分享我这可怜的洞屋所能提供的食物，为了款待你们，今夜我为你们讲述自从我踏上这片荒岛以来发生的一切。”然后他吩咐凯列班准备一些食物，整齐地摆在洞屋里。所有的人都惊异于这个丑陋的怪物粗俗的形态和未进化的脸孔。普洛斯彼罗告诉他们，他是这里唯一一个不得不侍候他的仆人。

在普洛斯彼罗离开荒岛之前，他解除了爱丽儿的劳役，让这个可爱的小精灵获得了极大的快乐，因为，尽管他忠实地为主人服务，但他一直渴望享有自由的权利，无拘无束地在天空中漫游，就像一只自由的小鸟，在绿树下，在果园中，在散发香味的花朵间。 “我奇妙的爱丽儿，”当普洛斯彼罗释放爱丽儿时，他对这个小精灵说：“我失去了你，而你将获自由。”

“谢谢您，亲爱的主人，”爱丽儿说，“在您命令您忠实的精灵不再为您效劳之前，请允许我用好风护送你们的船回国。然后，主人，我就自由了，我将怎样快乐地活着啊！”这时，爱丽儿随口唱起一首优美的歌：

“蜜蜂在哪里采蜜，在那里！

我躺在野樱草花的钟铃里：

蜷缩在那儿，听猫头鹰叫。

我在蝙蝠的背上快乐飞过，

我将快乐地、快乐地生活，

在大树枝垂落的花朵下面。”

然后，普洛斯彼罗把他的那些巫术书籍和魔杖深深地埋在地下，他决定再也不用魔法了。他已征服了他的敌人，并且跟他的弟弟和那不勒斯国王和解了。如今，已没有必要留在岛上，他只希望回到故土，回到那重新属于他的公爵领地，并见证女儿米兰达和王子腓迪南的美满婚姻。国王说，等他们一回到那不勒斯，就立即举行盛大的庆典。就这样，在精灵爱丽儿的护送下，他们离开荒岛，经历了愉快的旅程之后，不久便到达了故土。

仲夏夜之梦

雅典城邦有一项法律，规定市民有权强迫他们的女儿许配给他们自己欣赏的人，如果女儿拒绝嫁给父亲为她选定的男人做丈夫，被法律授权的父亲有权提出将她处死。但是做父亲的通常不希望自己的女儿死去，即使她们确实表现出有点难以驯服，法律也很少或从未因此执行过死刑，姑娘们也就因此而不再害怕他们父母的威胁了。

然而，有这样一个例子。一位名叫伊吉斯的老人，来到时任希腊公爵的忒修斯面前，指控他女儿赫米娅违背父命，他原本将她许配给狄米特律斯，一位雅典贵族出身的小伙子，然而女儿拒绝服从他的命令，理由是她爱上了另一个名叫拉山德的雅典人。伊吉斯要求得到忒修斯的审判，希望这项残酷的法律在他女儿身上生效。

赫米娅为自己违背父命辩解道，狄米特律斯以前曾公开向她的好朋友海伦娜求爱，而海伦娜也痴情地爱恋他。赫米娅以这样一个值得尊重的理由跟她父亲据理力争，然而却不能得到父亲的同情。

尽管公爵忒修斯非常仁慈，但他没有权力更改国家法律，对此他能做的只是给赫米娅四天时间，允许她在充分考虑后作出最后的决定：最终，如果她坚持拒绝嫁给狄米特律斯，她就得被处死。

赫米娅趁公爵不在场的时候，去找她的爱人拉山德，向他通报自己的危险处境：要么嫁给狄米特律斯，要么四天后命归黄泉。

拉山德听到这个坏消息，非常痛苦；不过，他很快想起了他的伯母，她住在离雅典城邦很远的地方，在那里，雅典的这项残酷的法律对赫米娅将不再起作用，因为这项法律不适用于雅典城邦以外的地方。他提出让赫米亚在夜里偷偷溜出她父亲的宅第，跟他一起去他伯母家，他们可以在那边结婚。“我们在城外几里远的小树林见面，就是那片可爱的小树林，5月里我们和海伦娜经常去散步的地方。”拉山德说。

赫米娅愉快地接受了拉山德的建议。除了海伦娜，她没有把自己有意逃走的事告诉任何人。海伦娜（就像那些愿意为爱情做傻事的姑娘一样）非常自私地把这件事告诉了狄米特律斯，尽管她不指望从出卖朋友的秘密里得到什么好处，但是她可怜的快乐是跟随狄米特律斯到树林中去，她相信狄米特律斯肯定会到那里寻找赫米娅。

拉山德与赫米娅约会的那片树林是被称做“精灵”的小东西们经常出没的地方。

精灵的大王奥布朗和王后提泰妮娅以及他们的一群随从，今晚将在森林中举行午夜狂欢。

那时，大王与王后两人正闹不和，他们从不相伴着在月光下幽静的林中散步，而是一见面就互相指责，争吵不休，吓得精灵们只好躺进橡实壳里藏起来。

两人不和的原因是，提泰妮娅不肯把一个矮小丑陋的男孩儿送给奥布朗。这小男孩儿的妈妈是提泰妮娅的朋友，他妈妈死后，精灵王后从保姆那儿将他偷来，并带进森林。

就在那对恋人在林中约会的这个晚上，提泰妮娅正好和她的几个女仆在林中散步，她遇见了奥布朗，而他周围是一小帮前呼后拥的精灵侍从。

“真倒霉，又在月光下碰见了你，傲慢的提泰妮娅，”精灵大王说。王后回答：“那又怎样？好嫉妒的奥布朗。走快点儿，精灵们，我发誓永远不再跟他同游同寝。”

“你等等，鲁莽的女人，”奥布朗说，“我不是你的夫君吗？为什么提泰妮娅要违抗奥布朗呢？快把那个丑陋的小男孩儿送给我做侍童。”

“死了你的心吧，”王后回答，“拿你的整个仙境也休想换去我的小男孩儿。”说完，她非常生气地抛下夫君走了。“去你的吧，”奥布朗说，“为了回报这次的侮辱，我将在黎明到来前好好折磨折磨你。”

奥布朗召唤帕克——他最喜欢最亲密的随从。

帕克是个又精明又无赖的小妖精，他惯于在附近的村子里上演滑稽的闹剧，有时候进入挤奶场撇取奶油，有时跳进灯罩里，再轻快地钻进牛奶搅拌器，在牛奶里面跳魔幻的舞蹈，使制做乳酪的女工莫名其妙地把乳酪做成黄油。村子里做酒也没有成功的，不管什么时候，帕克总要选择在酿酒锅里跳舞，把啤酒全都给糟蹋了。当几个要好的邻居聚在一起想饮点爽口的啤酒，帕克就会跳进酒碗里，装成烤螃蟹的样子。如果一位老妇把酒喝进嘴里，他就会振动她的嘴唇，让酒溅在她皱巴巴的下巴上。过一会儿，当这个老妇坐下来正要严肃地给她的邻居讲一个忧伤的故事，帕克就会从她屁股底下将她坐的三条腿的凳子滑倒，可怜的老妇摔在地上，其余的老妇站在一边大笑，起哄说，她们从未如此开心过。

“过来，帕克，”奥布朗对这个快乐的小夜游神说，“去给我把姑娘们称做‘爱懒花’的野花摘来，只要把那种花的汁液滴在熟睡者的眼皮上，当他们醒来的时候，就会爱上他们第一眼见到的东西。我要搞到那种花的汁液，当提泰妮娅睡着的时候，好把花汁滴在她眼皮上，这样，当她睁开眼睛的时候，她就会爱上她第一眼看见的东西，即使是一头狮子或一头熊，一个好事的猕猴或一个忙忙碌碌的无尾猿。在我用另一种我所知道的魔法解除这种魔力以前，我要让她把那个小男孩儿送给我做侍童。”

爱搞恶作剧的帕克非常喜欢主人的这个主意，立刻跑去寻找那种花。正当奥布朗等待帕克回来的时候，他意外地看到狄米特律斯和海伦娜进了森林。他偷听到狄米特律斯斥责海伦娜老是跟着他，他用刻薄的话挖苦海伦娜，而海伦娜温和地哀求他，并提醒说，他以前如何引诱她、向她许下爱的诺言。狄米特律斯否认自己说过爱她的话，他说，他要把她丢在森林中，任由野兽处置。海伦娜还是拼命追他。

精灵大王一贯对真正痴情的人颇有好感，他对眼前的海伦娜表现出极大的同情心。或许正如拉山德所言，他们过去常常在这月光下的森林里散步，奥布朗早就见证过海伦娜的幸福时光，那时候，狄米特律斯正深深地爱着她。然而，事情或许是这样，当帕克带着小紫花回来的时候，奥布朗对他宠爱的这个精灵说：“你拿一些花过去，这儿有一位甜美的雅典少女，她单恋着一位傲慢的年轻人。如果你看见这个年轻人睡着了，就把一些花汁滴在他眼睛上，但是你要设法在那少女离他很近的时候做这件事，以便当他醒来的时候，第一个见到的就是这个受到怠慢的少女。记住，那年轻人是一副雅典人的穿扮。”

帕克答应一定会妙巧地办好这件事。于是奥布朗走了，不被提泰妮娅所察觉地来到了她的凉亭。她正准备在那儿睡觉。她的精灵凉亭在一处沙洲上，四周长满百里香、野樱草和芬芳的紫罗兰，在忍冬做的遮篷下面，生长着麝香蔷薇和臭蔷薇。提泰妮娅晚上总要在那地方睡上一觉，她身上盖着带花纹的蛇皮被单，尽管这个遮盖物太小了，但是对于盖住一个精灵来说已足够宽大。

他看见提泰妮娅正指示她的精灵们，当她睡觉的时候，他们该为她干些什么。她吩咐道：“你们当中，一些人得去杀死麝香蔷薇蓓蕾上的毛虫，另一些人去逮蝙蝠，剥下翅膀上的皮，为我的小仙们做外套；剩下的人站岗，驱逐那些每夜大喊大叫的猫头鹰，别让它们靠近我。不过，你们还是先为我唱首催眠曲吧，我要睡了。”于是，他们齐声唱起来：

两舌花蛇，多刺刺猬，统统把身藏；

无脚蜥蜴与螈蝾，也别来捣乱，

别走近美丽的女王，她要入梦乡！

夜莺，鼓起你的清弦，

为我们唱首催眠曲：

睡啦，睡啦，睡睡吧！

一切有害物请远走高飏，

不要靠近高贵的女王；

夜色伴眠曲送她入梦乡。

当他们的女王很快在轻柔的眠曲中睡着后，精灵们从她身边走开，各自去履行她命令做的那些重要的事。这时，奥布朗轻手轻脚走近他的提泰妮娅，将爱懒花的花汁滴在她眼皮上，口念一句谚语：

“你一觉醒来，眼中所见，

即是意中人，爱上它，莫迟疑。”

书归正传。赫米娅为了逃避拒绝嫁给狄米特律斯而遭致的死亡厄运，就在当天夜里，从家中逃了出来。当她进入森林，看见亲爱的拉山德正在等她，要带她去他伯母家。他们在森林中走了一半路程，赫米娅太累了。拉山德十分疼爱这位美丽的姑娘，她冒着危险离家出走，足以显示出她对他的爱情。拉山德便劝她在柔软的苔藓上休息一下，等天亮了再走，而他自己躺在离她不远的地方。他们很快就睡着了。帕克打这儿经过，发现了他们，他看见一位英俊的小伙子正在熟睡，身上穿着雅典式样的衣服，在他旁边躺着一位美丽少女，于是断定，这一定就是奥布朗派他寻找的那个雅典少女和她薄情的恋人。他很自然地推测，因为只有他们两个在一起，当他睁开眼睛的时候，她一定就是他看见的第一个事物。就这样，他立刻取出爱懒花汁，滴在他眼睛上。然而，不妙的事情发生了。当拉山德醒来的时候，海伦娜刚好经过这里，她代替赫米娅，成为拉山德看见的第一个事物。一种强大的爱情魔力使拉山德强烈地爱上了她，与此同时，他对赫米娅的爱情消失得无影无踪。拉山德与海伦娜相爱了。

如果拉山德睁开眼睛，第一个看见的是赫米娅，莽撞的帕克所犯的错误也就不会有什么后果了，那样的话他只会更加爱恋他坚贞的情人。但是，可怜的拉山德由于受到精灵制造的爱情魔力驱使，竟忘记了自己的真爱赫米娅，转而追求起另一个姑娘，而把熟睡中的赫米娅一个人留在了午夜的森林之中。

不幸就这样发生了。正如前面提到的，狄米特律斯粗暴地甩下海伦娜独自走了。海伦娜一直紧紧跟着他，但男人的步伐总比女孩子快，经过很长一段路后，她终于跟不上他了。狄米特律斯很快在海伦娜的视线里消失得无影无踪。海伦娜怀着沮丧和绝望的心情在半路上徘徊，莫名其妙地来到拉山德睡觉的地方。她惊讶地说：“啊，躺在地上的这个人不是拉山德吗？是死了还是睡着了？”于是她轻轻地碰了碰他，说，“我的朋友，你还活着吗？快醒醒。”拉山德睁开眼睛，爱情的魔力开始发挥作用了，他一把拉住海伦娜，极力向她表达他的爱和赞美之情，他告诉她，她的美丽远胜过赫米娅，就像鸽子胜过乌鸦一样，她的甜蜜令他浑身燃起爱的火焰。他说了许多诸如此类的情话。海伦娜知道拉山德是她朋友赫米娅的情人，而且他已经跟她郑重其事地订婚了，当她听到拉山德以这样的方式向自己求爱时，非常生气，认为拉山德是在取笑她。她气恼地说，“天哪，为什么人人都来嘲弄我？够了，够了，先生，我从来没得到过狄米特律斯一个笑脸和一句好话，而你，我的朋友，你却用这种方式假装向我献殷勤。拉山德啊，我还以为你是个有教养的上流人物呢。”说完这番话，她转身跑了。拉山德紧随其后，他完全忘记了他的赫米娅。此时，她还在睡觉呢。

赫米娅醒来，她惊恐地发现拉山德不见了。她在森林里四处张望，不知道拉山德出了什么事，也不知道到哪里去找他。与此同时，狄米特律斯没找到赫米娅和他的情敌拉山德，他筋疲力尽，很快睡着了。奥布朗发现了他。此前，通过对帕克的一番询问，奥布朗得知，帕克把爱懒花的汁液滴错了人。于是他设法把爱懒花汁滴在熟睡中的狄米特律斯的眼皮上。不久，狄米特律斯醒了，他一睁开眼睛刚好瞥见了海伦娜，就像拉山德此前所做的一样，他开始对她倾吐甜言蜜语。刚好在这个时候，追赶海伦娜的拉山德出现了，于是狄米特律斯和拉山德两个人一起向海伦娜求爱，他们二人都被爱情的魔咒束缚住了。

海伦娜惊讶地以为，是狄米特律斯、拉山德和她曾经最要好的朋友赫米娅，三个人合起伙来捉弄她。

而赫米娅的惊奇绝不亚于海伦娜，因为，她不知道拉山德和狄米特律斯这两个从前都深爱她的人，眼下为什么都成了海伦娜的情人，在她看来，这事不像是在开玩笑。

两个姑娘原本是最亲密的朋友，现在却开始愤怒地争吵起来。

海伦娜说：“无情的赫米娅，正是你怂恿拉山德用嘲弄的赞美来惹怒我，而你的另一位爱慕者狄米特律斯，不久前几乎用脚把我踢开，难道不是你让他称我为女神、仙女、宝贝和天使吗？如果不是你指使他取笑我，他怎么会对一个他所讨厌的人说这样的话呢？无情无意的赫米娅，你居然和男人联合起来嘲弄你可怜的朋友。你忘记我们的同窗友谊了吗？赫米娅呀，我们曾经是怎样地坐在一张垫子上，同唱一首歌？我们手执绣花针在一张图样上同绣一朵花，我们两个一起长大，像并蒂的樱桃，看上去是两颗，却难以分开！赫米娅，你太不讲情意了，更何况，跟男人合谋嘲弄你可怜的朋友，也不符合女孩子的身份。”

赫米娅说：“我根本不懂你在说什么，我没有嘲弄你，倒像是你在嘲弄我呢。”

海伦娜回答：“好，你就装下去吧。你的样子看上去多么严肃，可当我转过身去你就会对我做鬼脸儿，然后你们彼此使眼色，把这个绝妙的玩笑开下去。假如你有一丁点同情心，懂得仁慈和礼节，你就不会把我当做笑柄了。”

正当海伦娜和赫米娅用气话抱怨对方的时候，狄米特律斯跟拉山德为了争夺海伦娜，两人竟离开了她们，到树林里打斗了起来。

不久，两个姑娘发现两位绅士不见了，她们两个也分开了，再次钻进森林里疲惫地寻找她们的情人。

两人一离开，跟帕克在一起偷听她们争吵的精灵大王就对帕克说：“帕克，这都是你疏忽大意的结果，难道你有意这么干的吗？”

“相信我，仙王，”帕克回答，“是弄错了。我记得，您不是告诉我那男的穿着雅典式的服装吗？不过，发生这样的事我并不感到遗憾，我觉得他们的争吵是件挺有趣的事。”

奥布朗说：“听，狄米特律斯和拉山德走了，他们在寻找适合决斗的地方呢。我命令你去把浓雾蒙蒙的夜幕拉下来，让这两个喜欢打架的家伙迷失在黑暗之中，叫他们彼此看不见对方。你假装模仿他们两个人的声音，向他们彼此挑衅，用对骂激怒他们跟着你奔走，这样一来他们就会误以为他们听到的是情敌的话语。你如此这般，直到他们精疲力竭，走不动为止。当你发现他们睡着了，把这另一种花的汁液滴入拉山德的眼睛，他醒来后便会忘记他的新欢海伦娜，而把爱情重新倾注在赫米娅身上。如此，两个美丽的姑娘就可以幸福地找到各自所爱的人了，他们会认为，他们刚才不过是经历了一场令人烦恼的梦。快去照做吧，帕克，我得去看看我的提泰妮娅找到了怎样甜蜜的爱物。”

提泰妮娅还在睡觉。奥布朗看见在她旁边有一个小丑，他在森林中迷路了，现在也在睡觉。奥布朗说：“这家伙将成为提泰妮娅忠实的情人了。”他拍了拍小丑身边的驴头套，看起来如果它长在小丑本人的肩膀上也挺合适。尽管奥布朗非常轻地把驴脑袋固定好，还是把小丑弄醒了，他从地上爬起来，不知道奥布朗对他做了什么，他走向仙后睡觉的凉亭。

“啊，我见到了怎样的天使啊！”提泰妮娅说，她睁开眼睛，紫色花的汁液开始起作用。“你的智慧也像你的相貌一样完美无缺吗？”

“你说什么，妇人？”愚蠢的小丑说，“如果我的智慧足以让我找到走出森林的路，那已经不错了。”

“别指望走出这片森林，”被迷惑的仙后说。我不是一个平常的精灵，我爱你。跟我来吧，我派几个仙女服侍你。”

然后她唤来她的四位仙女。她们的名字依次是豆花、蛛网、飞蛾、芥菜籽。

仙后吩咐她们说：“照顾好这位可爱的先生。要蹦蹦跳跳地为他带路，还要在他面前表现得欢天喜地。给他采摘美味的葡萄和无花果吃，再从蜜蜂那儿为他偷来些蜂蜜。过来吧，坐在我身边，”她对小丑说，“让我摸摸你毛茸茸的脸，小傻瓜！亲吻你可爱的大耳朵，我的宝贝！”

“豆花在哪儿？”愚蠢的小丑问，他不太理会仙后的求爱，倒是得意于他的新服务员们。

“我在这儿，先生，”小巧的豆花回答。

“为我挠挠头，”小丑吩咐，“蛛网在哪儿？”

“到！先生，”蛛网回答。

“好蛛网，去杀死那边蓟刺上的红色大黄蜂，然后给我把蜜蜂的蜜囊拿来。你做这事别太性急，蛛网先生，当心别把蜜囊弄破了。你把蜜弄洒了我会感到遗憾的。芥菜籽在吗？”

“在，先生，”芥菜籽说，“我能为您做点儿什么？”

“没事了，芥菜籽先生，”小丑回答，“你帮着豆花为我搔痒就行了。我得去找理发师，芥菜籽先生，我想，我的脸上奇怪地长了许多毛。”

“我的甜心，”仙后说，“你想吃点什么？我派一个勇敢的仙女去松鼠的储藏室给你弄点新鲜的坚果。”

“我宁愿来一把干豌豆，”小丑说。他的驴脑袋只想满足驴的胃口。“不过，我恳求你别让任何人来打扰我，我想睡一会儿了。”

“那就睡吧，”仙后说，“让我用胳膊搂着你，啊，我是多么爱你！多么地爱！”

当精灵大王看见那小丑睡在他的王后的臂弯里，他走到她面前，责怪她把感情浪费在一个笨蛋身上。

她对此并不否认，当小丑睡在她臂弯里的时候，她给他的驴脑袋戴上了花冠。

奥布朗嘲弄了她一通后，再一次向她要求要那个矮小的丑孩子。仙后因羞于被丈夫发现自己正和新宠在一起，便不敢再拒绝他了。

奥布朗因此得到了那个他渴望已久的小男孩做侍童。随后，他对这桩可耻的勾当生出怜悯之心，他想用他愉快的发明，解救他的提泰妮娅。于是，他将另一种花的汁液滴进她的眼睛里，仙后立刻恢复了神智，她惊讶于自己近来的年老昏聩，说她现在是多么讨厌看见这个奇怪的怪物。

奥布朗也取下了小丑的驴脑袋，让他用自己肩膀上的白痴脑袋完成他的小睡。

现在，奥布朗和他的提泰妮娅彻底和解了，他给她讲了那几个年轻情侣的故事，以及他们在午夜的争吵。提泰妮娅答应跟他去看看他们的冒险经历结果怎样了。

仙王和仙后看见那两个痴情的男子以及他们各自的爱侣，睡在彼此相距不远的草地上。为了修正前一次的错误，帕克费了好大的劲儿才把他们四个人弄到同一个地方，在他们彼此不知道的情况下。他用仙王给他的解药小心地将拉山德眼中的魔咒驱走。

赫米娅最先醒来，发现她失去的拉山德就睡在她身边，她望着他，对他的反复无常感到困惑不解。不久，拉山德睁开眼睛，看见了他亲爱的赫米娅，先前遮在他眼中的精灵魔咒已经散去，他又恢复了神智和对赫米娅的爱情，他们开始谈论夜里的奇怪遭遇，怀疑那些事情是不是真的发生过，或者是否他们做着同一个令人困惑的梦。

这个时候，海伦娜和狄米特律斯也醒了，香甜的睡眠已使海伦娜平息了恼怒，她愉快地听到来自狄米特律斯的爱的表白，不禁惊喜交加，她开始相信狄米特律斯对她的爱是真诚的。

现在，两位美丽的女郎不再是情敌了，她们又变成了好朋友，那些互相攻击的话语被忘得一干二净，她们共同平静地商量在目前的情形下最好该做什么。很快，她们一致认为，由于狄米特律斯放弃了对赫米娅求爱，他会努力说服赫米娅的父亲撤回对赫米娅的残酷的死刑判决。为了这个友善的目标，狄米特律斯正准备返回雅典。就在这时，他们惊讶地看见伊吉斯——赫米娅的父亲，来到森林寻找他的逃跑的女儿。

当伊吉斯了解到狄米特律斯现在不再打算和他女儿结婚了，他也就不再反对赫米娅嫁给拉山德了，他同意他们在四天后结婚，那一天也正是赫米娅曾经被宣判处死刑的行刑日。在同一天，海伦娜也将愉快地嫁给她心爱而忠诚的恋人狄米特律斯。

仙王和仙后是这场和解的隐形的观众，他们目睹了这场爱情故事的欢乐结局，在奥布朗的努力下成为现实。得到这么多的快乐，以至于善良的精灵们决定以狂欢的方式庆祝这个即将来临的婚礼，让幸福遍布整个神仙王国。

那么，即便有人不相信这些神仙和他们的恶作剧，认为它难以置信、古怪离奇，那么他们也只不过是认为自己在做梦，而所有这些冒险是他们在睡梦里看见的幻影。不过，我希望我的读者们，没有一个人麻木到不喜欢这个美好的仲夏夜之梦。

冬天的故事

莱昂提斯是西西里西西里：意大利南部一岛屿，位于意大利半岛南端以西的地中海。的国王，王后赫尔迈厄尼美丽善良，他们一直情投意合地生活在一起。因为这位非凡的王后温柔的爱，莱昂提斯是那么幸福，他除了渴望时常见到王后以及他的老友兼同窗，波西米亚的国王波力克希尼斯外，就几乎没有别的愿望了。莱昂提斯和波力克希尼斯从小在一起读书，后来在他们的父亲死后，他们分别做了各自国家的国王，从那时起他们很多年都没见面了，尽管他们不时地交换礼物、书信，以及派亲善大使互访。

终于，经过再三邀请，波力克希尼斯决定从波西米亚来到西西里，拜访他的老朋友莱昂提斯。

在见面之初，莱昂提斯有说不尽的高兴。他特意将他年轻时的朋友引见给王后，似乎想在他亲爱的朋友和老伙伴面前展示他拥有的美满幸福。他们谈起旧日时光，他们的学生时代，并回忆起年少时的恶作剧，把这些讲给赫尔迈厄尼听，这样的交谈总是令她非常开心。

在长时间的逗留之后，波力克希尼斯准备离开了。赫尔迈厄尼按照她丈夫的愿望，恳请波力克希尼斯延长他的访问期。

可是现在，善良的王后开始懊悔，因为波力克希尼斯本打算拒绝莱昂提斯的请求，却最终被赫尔迈厄尼亲切力劝的话语所打动，决定将归期延迟数周。对此，尽管莱昂提斯早就了解波力克希尼斯的诚实和令人敬佩的操行，同时也了解贞洁的王后的为人，可他还是难以控制自己的嫉妒心。每当他看见赫尔迈厄尼出现在波力克希尼斯面前，尽管那是出于他本人的愿望，并且只是为了让他高兴，可怜的国王还是难以抑制不断增加的嫉妒，他从一位真诚的朋友，一个最可爱、最温情的丈夫，一下子变成了残忍野蛮的怪物。他派人找来宫廷大臣卡米罗，把他的疑心讲给他听，并命他去毒害波力克希尼斯。

卡米罗是个好人，他非常了解莱昂提斯的这种想法纯属毫无根据的嫉妒，他没有毒害波力克希尼斯，而是向他透露国王也就是他主人的命令，使他同意跟他一起逃离西西里王国。在卡米罗的帮助下，波力克希尼斯到达了他的波希米亚王国的安全地带。从那时起，卡米罗便一直生活在波希米亚王宫里，并且成为波力克希尼斯最好的朋友和最宠爱的臣子。

波力克希尼斯的逃走进一步激怒了莱昂提斯的妒忌心，他来到王后的宫室。此时这位善良的王后正跟她年幼的儿子迈密勒斯在一起，迈密勒斯正准备讲一个好听的故事逗妈妈笑，就在这个时候，国王进来了，他领走了他的儿子，然后将赫尔迈厄尼打入了监牢。

迈密勒斯尽管还是个年幼无知的孩子，但他非常爱他的妈妈。当他看见妈妈被羞辱，并从他身边被带走投入监牢，这些情景令他深深铭记在心，并为此寝食不安，形容憔悴，直到人们发现，如此的悲伤可能会夺去他的生命。

国王将王后打入监牢后，派两位西西里使臣，克里奥米尼斯和狄温，去往得尔福圣地的阿波罗神庙，请求神灵谕示王后是否背叛了他。

赫尔迈厄尼入狱不久，生下一个女儿。可怜的夫人从她漂亮的小宝宝身上得到了很多安慰，她对婴儿说：“我可怜的小囚犯，我和你一样无辜。”

赫尔迈厄尼有一位勇敢、高贵的好朋友，叫宝丽娜，她是西西里大臣安提哥纳斯的妻子，当她听说王室的女主人分娩了，便来到赫尔迈厄尼分娩的监狱。她对赫尔迈厄尼的女仆伊米莉亚说：“伊米莉亚，请告诉仁慈的王后，要是她敢把她的新生儿托付给我，我愿意带孩子去见国王，她的父亲。不知道当他看见无辜的孩子时是不是会软下心来。”

伊米莉亚回答说：“尊贵的夫人，我就去把您的意图禀报给王后。她正希望今天能有一位朋友冒险把孩子献给国王呢。”

宝丽娜说：“你还要告诉她，我将在她的保护下勇敢地说服莱昂提斯。”

“为了您对我们亲爱的王后的仁慈，愿上帝永远保佑您。”伊米莉亚说。

于是，伊米莉亚去见赫尔迈厄尼。赫尔迈厄尼很高兴把她的小孩交给宝丽娜照顾，因为除了她，没有人敢冒险把孩子送给她父亲。

宝丽娜带着新生婴儿强行去谒见国王，尽管她丈夫怕国王生气，曾努力阻止她这么做。她把婴儿放在她父亲身边，力劝国王，她严厉斥责国王的残暴，恳请他怀着仁慈之心对待他无辜的妻子和孩子。然而，宝丽娜勇敢的规谏只能激起莱昂提斯的恼怒，他命令她丈夫将宝丽娜从会客室带走。

宝丽娜离开的时候，把婴儿留在她父亲脚边，她想，当他一个人单独和这个婴儿呆在一起的时候，看见婴儿他就会对她的无辜生出怜悯。

然而，好心的宝丽娜错了，因为她刚一离开，这位狠心的父亲就命令宝丽娜的丈夫安提哥纳斯把婴儿带走，丢到海边的沙滩上，让她自生自灭。

安提哥纳斯不像好心的卡米罗，他太顺从莱昂提斯的旨意了。他迅速带上婴儿乘船出海，打算把她扔到他能发现的第一片荒芜的海岸上。

就这样，固执的国王一点儿也听不进别人为赫尔迈厄尼的求情，甚至等不及奥米尼斯和狄温两人到得尔福圣地阿波罗神庙叩求神谕归来。在王后尚未从分娩和痛失宝贝的新生儿的悲痛中恢复过来的时候，国王就决定将她带到王宫当着众臣和贵族们的面公开审判。于是，所有的王公贵族聚在一起审问赫尔迈厄尼，而不幸的王后以囚犯的身份站在她的臣民面前，接受他们的审判。正在这个时候，奥米尼斯和狄温回来了，他们向国王呈上密封的神谕。莱昂提斯命令开启封口，将神的指示大声地念出来。以下就是神的答复：

“赫尔迈厄尼清白无辜；波力克希尼斯无可责备；卡米罗忠诚不贰；莱昂提斯是个多疑的暴君；无罪之婴孩乃其亲骨肉，倘已失去不能复得，王将绝嗣。”

国王不相信神的谕示，说那是王后的朋友们编造的谎言，他要求法官们继续对王后进行审判。就在莱昂提斯讲这番话的时候，一个仆人走上前来禀报说，王子迈密勒斯听说他母亲接受审训而备感打击，悲伤蒙羞，突然不幸身亡。

赫尔迈厄尼听说爱子因她的不幸伤心而死，当场昏了过去。莱昂提斯听到这个消息，内心受到极大震动，开始同情起他不幸的妻子，他吩咐王后的陪同者宝丽娜将王后带下去，想法让她苏醒过来。宝丽娜不久就回来了，她告诉国王说，赫尔迈厄尼死了。

莱昂提斯听说王后死了，追悔自己对她的残忍；认为正是他的暴虐伤透了赫尔迈厄尼的心，他终于相信了她是清白的；并且认为神谕的话是真的，因为他明白“倘已失去不能复得，王将绝嗣”，是针对她的小女儿说的，因为年幼的王子迈密勒斯已经死了；现在他只能把他的王国传给遗弃的女儿了。在以后的若干年里，莱昂提斯一直生活在深深的懊悔和悲伤之中。

安提哥纳斯带着小公主乘坐的船中途被一场台风驱赶到波西米亚海岸，那里正是波力克希尼斯国王的领地。于是，安提哥纳斯上了岸，将婴儿留在了那里的海滩上。

安提哥纳斯却再也不能回到西西里岛禀报莱昂提斯他将他的女儿丢弃在什么地方了，因为，当他正要转身回到船上，一头熊从森林里蹿出来将他撕成了碎片。他正是因为服从了莱昂提斯没有人性的命令而受到了惩罚。

婴儿身上穿着富贵人家的衣服，戴着宝石。因为，当赫尔迈厄尼把她送给国王时，把她打扮得非常漂亮。安提哥纳斯在婴儿的襁褓里别了一张字条，上面写着她的名字“潘狄塔”，这个名字意味着她出身高贵、命运多舛。

幸运的是，这个可怜的弃婴被一个牧羊人发现了。他是位善良的男人，他将潘狄塔抱回家交给妻子收养，他妻子小心地呵护那孩子。但是贫穷使牧羊人对外隐藏了捡到宝的事情。从那以后，他离开家乡，没有人知道他从哪里获得的财富，他用潘狄塔的一部分宝石买了成群的羊，成为了一位富有的牧羊人。他把潘狄塔当做自己的孩子养大，潘狄塔除了知道自己是牧羊人的女儿，别的什么也不知道。

小潘狄塔长成了一位可爱的少女，尽管她受的教育不过是一个牧羊人的女儿所能得到的，但是她从高贵的母亲那里继承了天生的优雅，这优雅让她那未受教养的心灵绽放光彩，从她的举止上，没人知道她不是在她父亲的宫殿里长大。

波希米亚国王波力克希尼斯有个独生子，名叫弗罗利泽，他在牧羊人的住处附近打猎时，看见了那老人捡来的女儿，她的美丽端庄，以及女王般的举止，立刻唤起了他的爱恋。很快，他假称自己叫德瑞克斯，一位体面的绅士，而成为老牧羊人家的常客。然而，弗罗利泽经常不在宫中的情况引起了波力克希尼斯的警觉，父王派人去察看王子的行踪，最终发现王子爱上了牧羊人的美丽女儿。

为此，波力克希尼斯把卡米罗召唤来。这个忠诚的卡米罗就是从发疯的莱昂提斯手下把他搭救出来的那个人。他希望卡米罗陪他到老牧羊人、潘狄塔的父亲家走一趟。波力克希尼斯和卡米罗两人都化了装。当他们到达牧羊人家的时候，那里正在举行庆祝剪羊毛的欢宴。尽管他们两个是陌生人，然而在剪羊毛的欢宴上，每位前来的客人都会受到欢迎，于是他们被邀请进牧羊人的家里，参加他们的宴会。

只有欢乐和正在进行的酒宴。桌子已经摆好，乡村盛宴准备就序。一群少男少女在屋舍前的草地上跳舞，另外一些年轻人在门口从一个小贩的手里购买缎带、手套和玩具。

就在热闹的场面不断进行的时候，弗罗利泽和潘狄塔安静地坐在角落里，他们看起来更喜欢相互间愉快的交谈，胜过渴望娱乐和别的消遣活动。

国王的化装很高明，以至于他儿子根本不可能把他认出来。因而他尽量凑到他跟前倾听他们的谈话。潘狄塔跟他儿子简单而文雅的交谈令波力克希尼斯大为惊异。他对卡米罗说：

“我从没见过这么美丽而出身卑微的少女。她的言谈举止无不高于自身，相对于这个地方简直太高贵了。”

卡米罗回答说：“她绝对称得上是乡村女王。”

国王对老牧羊人说：“我的好朋友，请问，跟你女儿谈话的那个漂亮的乡下小伙子叫什么？”

“人们称他德瑞克斯，”牧羊人回答，“他说他爱上了我女儿。老实说吧，从他们的接吻上要想区分出谁更爱谁是不可能的。要是年轻的德瑞克斯娶了她，她会带给他梦想不到的好处。”牧羊人的言外之意，指的是他为潘狄塔留下的宝石。他买羊群用了一部分宝石，剩下的他小心收藏着，留给女儿做嫁妆。

于是，波力克希尼斯开始跟他的儿子打招呼，“你好，年轻人！”他说，“你的心里好像塞满了别的东西，连宴会也顾不上了。我年轻的时候也像你现在这样恋爱来着，可是，你竟然让那小贩走了，怎么没想到给你心爱的姑娘买个小礼物？”

年轻的王子根本没想到他是在跟国王、他的父亲讲话，他回答说：“老先生，她不看重这些无关紧要的东西。潘狄塔希望我送给她的那件礼物，深深地锁藏在我心里。”他把头转过去，对潘狄塔说：“啊，听我说，潘狄塔，这位前辈从前似乎也恋爱过，他想听听我怎么向你表达我的爱。”于是，弗罗利泽邀请这位上了年纪的陌生人作为他向潘狄塔求爱的证人，他对波力克希尼斯说：“恳请您记住我们的婚约吧。”

“我想记住你的离婚，年轻人，”国王说，然后他挑明自己的真实身份。波力克希尼斯责备他的儿子私下跟一个底层姑娘订婚，他称潘狄塔为“牧羊人的粗布，绵羊杖”，以及其他损人的名称，并威胁说，如果她再让他儿子看见她，他将会将她和她父亲，老牧羊人残忍地处死。

国王说完，怒气冲冲地走了，命令卡米罗带上王子弗罗利泽跟随他回王宫去。

国王离开后，天生高贵的潘狄塔才从他的责备中醒悟过来，她说，“就算我们的好事未果，我也没什么好怕的。我曾经一再明明白白地对他说，照耀他宫廷显贵的太阳也同样照耀着我们的村舍，而且看起来没有什么两样。”接着她忧伤地说，“现在，我却要从梦中醒来了，我不可能再梦想做王后了。我亲爱的人已离我而去。我只得流着泪水去给母羊挤奶了。”

好心的卡米罗被潘狄塔天生的高贵和得体的举止所吸引，他感觉到年轻的王子是在他父亲的逼迫下才不得已放弃了深爱的情侣，他想了一个帮助这对情侣的方法并同时将这一完美计划付诸实施。

卡米罗了解到西西里国王莱昂提斯确确实实成了一个悔过者。尽管卡米罗眼下是波力克希尼斯国王的好朋友，却终是不能了却他想见到昔日故主和回到家乡的愿望。因此，他提议让弗罗利泽和潘狄塔一同陪他去西西里，到了那儿，他相信莱昂提斯会保护他们，再通过他从中调解，他们将会得到波力克希尼斯的原谅，同意他们结婚。

二人高兴地同意了这个建议，卡米罗随后如此这般地指导他们怎么逃走，并同意老牧羊人跟随他们一起走。

老牧羊人带上潘狄塔剩余的宝石和潘狄塔婴儿时的衣服，以及当初别在她襁褓里的字条。

在经过顺利的航程之后，弗罗利泽和潘狄塔、卡米罗，以及老牧羊人，一起安全抵达了莱昂提斯的王宫。此时的莱昂提斯依旧沉浸在失去王后赫尔迈厄尼和孩子们的忧伤之中，他亲切地接待了从远方归来的卡米罗，对王子弗罗利泽给予了最热忱的欢迎。当弗罗利泽介绍潘狄塔为他的王妃时，莱昂提斯把注意力完全集中在她身上了。他感觉潘狄塔和他已故的王后赫尔迈厄尼不知在什么地方有些相像，他的悲伤被重新勾了出来，他说，如果不是他残忍地遗弃了他的女儿，他自己也该有一个这般可爱的孩子。

“不仅如此，我还失去了我的伙伴和朋友，那就是你勇敢的父亲，我希望他活得比上一次我见他时还要好。”

国王谈论潘狄塔时，老牧羊人留意到他说他抛弃过一个年幼的女儿，他开始回忆自己发现小潘狄塔的时间，回忆她被遗弃在海滩上的样子，宝石，以及别的新生儿的物件，他由此推断，潘狄塔就是国王遗弃的女儿。

当弗罗利泽和潘狄塔、卡米罗和忠实的宝丽娜，他们全都在场的时候，老牧羊人向国王讲述了他发现这个孩子时的情形，以及安提哥纳斯不幸身亡的细节，他亲眼看见熊将他吃掉了。接着他出示了一件华丽的斗篷，宝丽娜记得那正是赫尔迈厄尼当初用来包裹孩子的斗篷。接着他又出示了宝石，宝丽娜记得这宝石正是赫尔迈厄尼系在孩子脖子上的那块。牧羊人最后掏出一张纸条，宝丽娜认出那是她丈夫的笔迹。毫无疑问，潘狄塔真的就是莱昂提斯的女儿！此时此刻，宝丽娜悲喜交加，她一方面为丈夫的死而悲伤，另一方面又因神谕的应验而高兴，国王的后嗣、长期失去的女儿找到了！莱昂提斯听牧羊人说潘狄塔就是他的女儿，而如今赫尔迈厄尼竟不在人世了，这使他久久沉浸在巨大的悲痛之中，久久不语，过了好一会儿，他才说到：“啊，你的妈妈，你的妈妈！”

宝丽娜打破了悲喜交加的局面，她对莱昂提斯说，她有一座雕像，刚刚完工，出自意大利著名雕塑师裘里奥·罗曼诺之手，雕像酷似王后，想请国王赏光到她家里看看，说不定他会以为那正是赫尔迈厄尼本人呢。于是，他们一起来到她家里。国王渴望见到赫尔迈厄尼的雕像，潘狄塔则渴望看到她从未见过面的母亲长什么样子。

宝丽娜揭下蒙在这座著名雕像上的帷幕，国王一眼看出雕像像极了完美绝伦的赫尔迈厄尼，悲伤再度涌上心头，有好半天，他既说不出话来，也挪不动步子。

“陛下，我喜欢您的沉默，”宝丽娜说，“这表明了您的惊奇。您说，这雕像是不是非常像您的王后？”

国王说：“啊，她这美丽的站姿，带着一脸庄严的表情，就像我当初向她求爱时一模一样。可是，宝丽娜，赫尔迈厄尼可不像这雕像看起来这样老。”

宝丽娜回答道：“这格外显出雕塑师的高超技艺，他雕出了假如她现在还活着时的相貌。但是，陛下，我得将这雕像重新蒙上了，不然的话您要以为它会动了。”

国王马上说：“不要拉上帷幕。我不相信她真的死了，除非我也是死人！卡米罗，你来看，你不认为这雕像在呼吸吗？她的眼睛似乎也在转动呢。”

“亲爱的陛下，我一定要拉上帷幕了，”宝丽娜说，“您这样激动，真会以为雕像是活着的。”

莱昂提斯说：“啊，亲爱的宝丽娜让我想起整整二十年的时光！可我仍然感觉到来自她的气息。什么样的雕刀居然能雕出气息来呢？没人可以愚弄我，让我来吻吻她好了。”

“我的好陛下，请您克制点吧！”宝丽娜说，“她嘴唇上的红颜料还没干呢，小心油彩弄脏了您的嘴。我还是把帷幕拉下来吧？”

“不，再也不要失去那样的二十年了，”莱昂提斯说。

潘狄塔跪下来，默默地、深情地望着她举世无双的母亲的雕像，说道：“让我永远守在这儿，看着我亲爱的妈妈。”

“您还是离开这里吧，”宝丽娜对莱昂提斯说，“让我把帷幕拉上，不然的话您自己就准备着更大的惊奇吧。我的确能让这雕像动起来，让她从基座上走下来，握住你们的手。但是你们会认为我在撒谎，除非我能借助某种魔力。”

国王惊讶地说：“无论你叫她做什么，我都愿意看着。你让她说话，我愿意听；既然你能让她动，你也一定能让她说话。”

宝丽娜吩咐来点舒缓、庄严的音乐，这一切她早有准备。接下来的一幕，让在场的所有人都惊呆了，雕像从基座上走下来，伸出胳膊搂住了莱昂提斯的脖子。然后，雕像开始说话了，她为丈夫和刚刚找到的孩子祝福。

不用说，搂着莱昂提斯脖子的雕像也同时得到了她丈夫和孩子的祝福。毫无疑问，这座雕像正是赫尔迈厄尼本人，是真实地活在世上的王后。

当初，宝丽娜向国王谎报了赫尔迈厄尼的死讯，认为那是保住这位高贵的王后的命的唯一办法，正是因为善良的宝丽娜，赫尔迈厄尼才活到今天，但是她从来不让莱昂提斯知道这回事，直到她听说潘狄塔找到了，才以这种方式向他透露了事情的真相。因为，尽管王后早已原谅了莱昂提斯对她本人的伤害，却不能原谅他对幼小女儿的残忍。

王后“死而复生”，失踪的女儿也找到了，长期处于悲痛的莱昂提斯简直承受不了这份过度的幸福。

到处是美好的祝愿和亲密的交谈。此时，欣喜的国王和王后均对王子弗罗利泽爱上他们那表面上贫贱的女儿表示感谢，然后他们感谢好心的老牧羊人保护了他们的孩子。卡米罗和宝丽娜非常高兴在有生之年看到他们的忠诚效力换来的完美结局。

似乎这桩奇异的前所未有的人间美事到此已圆满结束了，可就在这个时候，国王波力克希尼斯走进了王宫。

当初，波力克希尼斯发现他的儿子和卡米罗都不见了，他知道卡米罗一直希望回到西西里，便推测他会在这儿找到他们。他急冲冲地追随而来，刚刚到达西西里王宫，就碰巧赶上了这令人高兴的时刻。

波力克希尼斯也加入了这场欢乐中，他原谅了好朋友莱昂提斯曾经对他的错误猜疑，他们重新点燃友谊之火，像少年时代那样真诚地延续友情。而且，人们不再担心波力克希尼斯会反对他儿子爱上潘狄塔。她现在不是“牧羊杖”，而是西西里的王位继承人了。

在长期的痛苦中坚守忍耐，这美德给了赫尔迈厄尼巨大的回报，这位卓越的王后跟国王莱昂提斯和女儿生活了许多年，并成为天下最幸福的母亲和王后。

无事生非

在墨西拿墨西拿：意大利西西里岛东北部一城市，位于墨西拿海峡沿岸，该海峡将西西里岛和意大利大陆分隔开来。该城于公元前8世纪由希腊殖民者创建。的一座宫殿里住着两位小姐，一个叫希罗，一个叫比阿特丽斯。希罗是墨西拿的统治者莱昂那多的女儿，比阿特丽斯是莱昂那多的侄女。

比阿特丽斯是个性格活泼的姑娘，希罗则比较严肃，比阿特丽斯常常用轻松的俏皮话逗妹妹高兴。无论发生什么，对于无忧无虑的比阿特丽斯来说都是一件开心的事。

这两个姑娘的故事开始的时候，一些年轻的高级军官拜访莱昂那多来了，当他们从战场上凯旋，经过墨西拿的时候。战争结束了，这些军人们因勇敢而建立了功勋。他们中有阿拉贡的亲王唐·彼德罗与他的朋友克劳狄奥，一位佛罗伦萨的贵族青年，与他们同来的是狂放不羁的培尼狄克，他是帕度亚的贵族青年。

这些异乡人过去曾来过墨西拿，好客的总督大人将他们当老朋友和旧相识一样介绍给了他的女儿和侄女。

培尼狄克一进来就开始跟莱昂那多和亲王热烈地交谈。比阿特丽斯不喜欢被冷落，她打断了培尼狄克的谈话，说：

“我奇怪你怎么总是夸夸其谈，培狄尼克先生。其实没有人在听你说什么。”

培狄尼克不过是跟比阿特丽斯一样快言快语的人，然而他不高兴她这样随便跟他打招呼。在他看来，多嘴多舌的比阿特丽斯不可能成为一个很有修养的女孩子。他记得，上次来墨西拿，比阿特丽斯就习惯逮住他，用俏皮话跟他打趣。如果说天底下还有什么人这么善于说笑话，那么他们非培尼狄克和比阿特丽斯莫属。像这两位这样唇枪舌剑的斗嘴，以前还从没遇见过，两人争吵到最后往往不欢而散。因此，当比阿特丽斯打断他的谈话，告诉他没有人在听他说什么的时候，培狄尼克装作先前没看见她在场的样子，说：

“哎哟，我傲慢的小姐，你还活着吗？”舌战随即在两人之间爆发，刺耳的争吵持续不休。尽管比阿特丽斯早就听说培尼狄克在新近的战斗中被公认为勇士，比阿特丽斯仍然坚持说，她能吃掉他在战场上杀的所有敌人。她发现亲王很乐意听培尼狄克谈话，她便称他为“亲王的小丑”。这样的挖苦比她以前所有的嘲讽更深地伤害了他。她暗示他是个胆小鬼，说她能吃掉他杀死的所有敌人。对此，他并不在意，他知道自己是个勇敢的人。可没有什么比用打诨诋毁一个人更可怕的了，因为，她给他下的这个定义有时候还真跟事实有几分接近。因此，当她称他为“亲王的小丑”时，培尼狄克恨透了比阿特丽斯。

在高贵的客人面前，优雅而端庄的希罗小姐一直沉默不语。就在亲王兴致勃勃地倾听比阿特丽斯和培尼狄克诙谐的对话时，克劳狄奥一直留意观察她那张比以前更美丽的脸，凝神望着她可爱的轮廓（她本来就是一位令人倾慕的姑娘）。亲王对莱昂那多轻声耳语道：

“比阿特丽斯是个可爱的姑娘，她真可说是培尼狄克无以伦比的妻子呢。”

莱昂那多这样回答他的建议：“哎呀，我的好殿下，他们两个要是结婚一星期，准得吵疯了不可。”

但是，尽管莱昂那多认为他们两个不可能成为和谐的一对，亲王还是没有放弃将这两个机智风趣的年轻人撮合到一起的想法。

亲王跟克劳狄奥从王宫回来，他发觉促成培尼狄克和比阿特丽斯成婚并不是唯一的目标，因为克劳狄奥跟他提起希罗，他由此猜出克劳狄奥的心思，并为此感到高兴。他问克劳狄奥：

“你喜欢希罗吗？”

克劳狄奥回答道：“啊，殿下，我上次来墨西拿，当我以军人的眼光望着她的时候，我就已经喜欢她了，但是那时候我根本无暇顾及儿女私情。可是现在，在和平的幸福时光里，对战争的思考已经离开了我的头脑，取而代之的是一缕缕柔情，一切都在提醒我，年轻的希罗是多么美丽，这使我记起，我在出征以前就已经爱上她了。”

克劳狄奥如此直言不讳地向亲王坦言了他对希罗的感情，亲王当即答应去恳求莱昂那多，让他接受克劳狄奥做女婿。莱昂那多同意了这个建议，同时，亲王发现劝说善良的希罗接受克劳狄奥求爱并没有太大的困难，因为克劳狄奥是一位难得的天资与才气俱佳的贵族。

在好心的亲王的帮助下，莱昂那多很快确定了为克劳狄奥与希罗举行婚礼的日期。

用不了太多时日，克劳狄奥就跟他美丽的心上人结婚了，然而他还是不停地抱怨等待的日子太长、太乏味，像大多数急躁的年轻人一样，急不可耐地盼望婚姻大事及早完成。为了使等待的时间变得不那么难熬，亲王提议策划一个有趣的游戏，让培尼狄克与比阿特丽斯双双坠入爱河。克劳狄奥怀着极大的乐趣参与到亲王的计谋里，莱昂那多答应助他们一臂之力，就连希罗也想做点力所能及的事情，帮助姐姐物色一位好丈夫。

亲王打算采取的办法是，让克劳狄奥使培尼狄克相信比阿特丽斯爱着他，同时让希罗使比阿特丽斯相信培尼狄克爱着她。

亲王、莱昂那多和克劳狄奥开始了第一步运作，当培尼狄克安静地坐在树阴下读书的时候，亲王和他的助手找准机会，也凑在一起坐到树后不远的地方。他们离培尼狄克很近，以至于他不可能听不到他们的谈话。他们漫不经心地聊了一会儿后，亲王说：“离我近点，莱昂那多。你那天跟我说什么来着？你侄女比阿特丽斯看上了培尼狄克先生？我可从没想过那姑娘会看上哪个男人。”“是啊，我也没想过，殿下，”莱昂那多回答。“很奇怪她会这样痴情于培尼狄克，可是她表面上似乎对他并不在意。”克劳狄奥从旁证实这一切都是真的，因为希罗郑重其事地跟他说过，比阿特丽斯爱上了培尼狄克，还说如果培尼狄克不爱她，她会伤心死的。而莱昂那多和克劳狄奥又似乎一致认为这种事不大可能，因为培尼狄克总是用难听的话伤害漂亮的姑娘们，尤其是比阿特丽斯。

亲王假装非常同情比阿特丽斯，他说：“最好还是让我把这实情告诉培尼狄克吧。”“你估计结果会怎样？”克劳狄奥问，“他只会把它当作一桩笑话，然后让这位可怜的姑娘更加可怜。”“假如他这么做，那么吊死他倒是件好事。比阿特丽斯是个非常甜美的姑娘，她凡事都表现得很聪明，只在爱上培尼狄克这件事上犯傻。”然后，亲王示意同伴们离开，只留下培尼狄克独自思考他方才偷听到的消息。

培尼狄克热切地听着他们的谈话，当听说比阿特丽斯爱上自己时，他自言自语道：“会有这种事吗？风会吹到角落里来吗？”他们走后，他开始想到：“这不像是恶作剧！他们个个都很严肃，而且克劳狄奥从希罗那里得到的消息一定不会有假，那姑娘看起来真挺可怜呢。她在爱我！啊，我一定要报答她！我还从没考虑过婚姻大事呢。当初我说我要做个单身汉，那是因为我没想到我会活到结婚那一天。他们都说这姑娘善良、美丽，这倒是真的；还说她事事洞明，唯有在爱我这件事上犯糊涂。啊，犯糊涂又怎样呢？但是，瞧，比阿特丽斯来了。她今天可真漂亮，我在她脸上的确察觉到她在爱我的迹象。”比阿特丽斯走近培尼狄克，用她一惯犀利的话语说：“他们派我来叫你吃饭，这可是违背我自己意愿的噢。”培尼狄克用以往从未有过的礼貌回答道：“美丽的比阿特丽斯，让你受累了，谢谢。”比阿特丽斯又说了两句粗暴无礼的话，便撇下他走了。培尼狄克却误以为，她说出的那些有失礼貌的话语里隐含着善意，他大声说道：“假如我不同情她，我就是坏蛋；假如我不爱她，我就是守财奴。我要马上得到她的一张小照。”

这位可爱的绅士终于落入了他们布下的圈套。现在该是看希罗跟比阿特丽斯的好戏了。为了达到目的，希罗派人找来厄休拉和玛格丽特，让她们两个也参与到她的行动中来。希罗对玛格丽特说：“玛格丽特，你去一趟客厅，我姐姐正在那儿跟亲王和克劳狄奥聊天呢。你附在她耳边对她说，我跟厄休拉正在花园里散步，我们谈论的都是跟她有关的事情。让她悄悄溜到一处合适的树阴下，那儿有一片忍冬，在阳光的哺育下成长，却像一些不领情的宠臣，拒绝阳光照进来。”希罗想让玛格丽特诱骗比阿特丽斯进入的那处树阴，正是不久前培尼狄克偷听别人谈话的地方。

“我现在就叫她来，”玛格丽特说。

于是，希罗领着厄休拉走进花园。希罗对厄休拉说：“这样，厄休拉，当比阿特丽斯来的时候，我们就在小径上来来回回地散步，我们的谈话只围绕培尼狄克，当我提到他时，你要不时地赞美他怎样胜过你所见过的男人。然后，我一定会对你说，培尼狄克是如何地爱着比阿特丽斯。好了，现在就开始吧，我已经看见比阿特丽斯像一只田凫一样钻进了那片忍冬，她正打算听我们说话呢。”于是她们开始交谈，希罗装作回答厄休拉的问话的样子，说：“不，是真的，厄休拉。她太傲慢了，她的性情就像一只山鹰。”“可你说的是真的吗？”厄休拉问，“培尼狄克彻底爱上了比阿特丽斯？”希罗回答：“亲王和我亲爱的克劳狄奥都这么说，他们求我去把这事告诉她。但是我劝他们说，如果他们爱培尼狄克，就千万别让比阿特丽斯知道这回事。”“你说的没错，”厄休拉说，“最好还是别让她知道培尼狄克在爱她，免得她又要嘲弄培尼狄克了。”“是呀，谁说不是这回事呢，”希罗说，“不管多么聪明、高贵、年轻、英俊的男人，她都把人家贬得一文不值。”“唉，她这样喜欢吹毛求疵，可真叫人不敢恭维，”厄休拉说。“就是呀，”希罗回答：“再说了，这种事有谁敢去告诉她呢？假如我去对她说，她不把我嘲弄得无地自容才怪呢。”“啊，也别错怪了你姐姐，”厄休拉说，“我想她总不会这么没有头脑，拒绝像培尼狄克这样一位难得的绅士。”“他的确有极好的口碑，”希罗说，“除了我最亲爱的克劳狄奥外，整个意大利也找不到第二个像他这样出色的男子了。”接着，希罗给厄休拉使了个眼色，意思是可以换个话题了。于是，厄休拉问：“小姐，您打算什么时候结婚呢？”希罗告诉她，她准备明天就跟克劳狄奥结婚，她希望厄休拉能陪她去看看她的婚纱，也好确定明天婚礼上穿什么。比阿特丽斯屏息静气仔细地听着她们的对话，等她们走后，她大呼：“天哪，我的耳朵里怎么火烧火燎的呢？她们说的这些话是真的吗？再见吧，我的轻蔑和嘲讽！再见，我那大小姐的傲慢！继续你的爱吧，培尼狄克！我会报答你的，我会将狂野的心收束，放进你温情的手心。”

看见两个昔日的对手成为一对全新的相亲相爱的朋友，并且经过好开玩笑的亲王如此这般的绝妙导演，马上将会看到他们两人被骗得彼此爱慕上以后开始的第一次约会，这着实是件非常令人赏心悦目的事。然而，眼下的希罗却遭遇到了不幸的困扰。因为，第二天就是她大喜的日子了，可是一片乌云却向希罗和她父亲莱昂那多的心上遮盖过来。

话说亲王有一个同父异母的弟弟，曾经跟他一道在墨西拿打仗。这个弟弟名叫唐·约翰，是个抑郁寡欢、从不知足的人，他的精力似乎都放在了如何图谋干一件邪恶的事情上。他恨他的哥哥唐·彼德罗亲王，也恨克劳狄奥，因为他是亲王的朋友，他决定阻止克劳狄奥跟希罗成婚，其恶意只在想让克劳狄奥和亲王不快活，因为他知道亲王在这桩婚姻上所费的心思几乎跟克劳狄奥本人一样多。为了达到这个邪恶的目的，他雇了一个叫波拉契奥的人，这个家伙跟他一样坏。他给了波拉契奥一大笔钱，怂恿他干一桩坏事。于是，波拉契奥买通希罗的侍女玛格丽特，按照唐·约翰的吩咐，当天晚上等希罗睡下以后，让玛格丽特穿上小姐的衣裳在小姐的窗下跟他交谈，以使克劳狄奥更加相信那女子就是希罗，并最终被这个恶劣的骗局所迷惑。

唐·约翰设下这个圈套以后，就去见亲王和克劳狄奥，告诉他们希罗是个品行不端的姑娘，她总是在午夜时分在窗口跟一个男人讲话。现在正是婚礼的前夜，他提出要带他们前去察看，在那儿让他们亲耳听听她站在窗口跟一个男人都说些什么。他们同意跟他走一趟，克劳狄奥说：“要是今天夜里果然有什么事情给我看见，我发誓绝不跟她结婚了，而且明天我还要在准备跟她举行婚礼的教堂把她羞辱一顿。”亲王也说：“不错，是我帮你得到她的，明天我也会帮你让她当众出丑。”

当晚，唐·约翰将他们二人带到希罗的房间附近，他们正好看见波拉契奥站在窗下，这时玛格丽特从希罗的窗口探出头来，他们果然听见她在跟波拉契奥讲话，而玛格丽特穿的衣裳与他们见过的希罗穿的衣裳一模一样，亲王和克劳狄奥都相信了那女子就是希罗本人。

看到眼前的情景，没有什么比这更令克劳狄奥愤怒的了。他从前对纯洁无瑕的希罗的全部的爱，转瞬之间都变成了仇恨，他决定第二天非要在教堂里揭她的短，让她的丑闻暴光。亲王也同意克劳狄奥这么做，他觉得，对于一个就要与高贵的克劳狄奥结婚，却在婚礼之前每晚在窗口与某个男人调情的下流女人，除了这样，再也想不出更严历的惩罚办法了。

第二天，所有前来庆贺婚礼的人齐集一堂。克劳狄奥和希罗站在牧师面前。当牧师，或称神父正要主持婚礼仪式时，克劳狄奥以最最激烈的言辞宣布了原本清白的希罗的罪过。希罗对他的一番话感到震惊，她温驯地说：

“我的殿下病了不成？怎么会说出这样离谱的话来？”

莱昂那多极度惊骇地问亲王：“我的好殿下，你怎么不说话？”

“让我说什么好呢？”亲王说。“我曾经竭力把我的朋友跟一个下贱的女人撮合到一块，现在连我自己也觉得丢脸。莱昂那多，我以我的名誉起誓，昨天午夜，我、我的弟弟以及这个心都快碎了的克劳狄奥，我们三个人确确实实看见希罗在她闺房的窗口跟一个男人说话。”

培尼狄克听他们这么讲，吃惊地说：“这简直不像一场婚礼了。”

“天知道，怎么会是这样！”希罗痛心地回答。这个不幸的姑娘说完，突然晕了过去，彻底不醒人事了。亲王和克劳狄奥离开了教堂，他们甚至没停下脚步看看希罗还能不能醒过来，也不去安慰一下被他们抛在痛苦中的莱昂那多。愤怒使他们的心肠变得像石头一样硬。

培尼狄克留下来帮助比阿特丽斯将希罗从晕迷中唤醒，他问比阿特丽斯：“这姑娘怎么了？”“我想是死了，”比阿特丽斯回答。她非常难过，因为她爱她的叔叔，也了解希罗的为人，她相信方才他们那些侮辱她的话纯属子虚乌有。眼下没有比这位老父亲更可怜的了。他竟然相信了他的孩子干了见不得人的事，听他哀悼女儿的话更是令人心生怜悯。她死一般地躺在他面前，而他恨不得她永远也别睁开眼睛。

但是，年迈的神父是一位智者，他很会察言观色，刚才亲王和克劳狄奥侮辱希罗时，他曾仔细观察过姑娘脸上的细微变化。当她听到自己被谴责的话语时，脸上布满了羞愧的红晕，随即他发现，那冰雪般的苍白驱走了那些红晕，与此同时，她眼中燃起的火苗使人相信，亲王所说的那些侮辱人格的话纯属捕风捉影。神父对这位悲痛的父亲说：“假如这温柔的姑娘不是受了严重的误会，你们就只管称我为傻瓜，再不用相信我的知识、我的阅历，也不用相信我的年纪、我的威望以及我的身份了。”

当希罗从昏迷中苏醒过来，神父凑上前问她：“姑娘，你被指责跟什么人私通？”希罗回答道：“只有指责我的人清楚，而我什么也不知道。”她转向莱昂那多说：“啊，我的父亲，如果您能证明在不合时宜的时辰我曾经跟什么男人谈过话，或者说在昨天夜里我跟任何不相干的人交谈过，那么就请您立刻抛弃我、诅咒我，或者干脆把我打死好了。”

神父说：“亲王和克劳狄奥的误解实在莫名其妙。”他劝莱昂那多，不如将计就计，就向外人宣布，说希罗已经死了。他说，因为他们离开的时候，希罗正昏迷不醒，他们很容易相信这是真的。同时神父让莱昂那多表现出失去爱女的悲恸，并且还要为希罗竖一个墓碑，并举办丧葬仪式。“这算什么事呢？”莱昂那多不解地问，“为什么要这样做？”神父回答说：“宣布希罗的死将会使诽谤变成同情，这样总是有好处的。而且，我希望这不是全部的好处。当克劳狄奥知道，正是因为他那些责难的话杀死了希罗，那么希罗活着时的诸般好处就会悄悄爬上他的心头，他将多么希望自己当初不曾那样责难过她，即使他认为那些指责的话是事实。”

培尼狄克说：“莱昂那多，你只管按神父的建议去做吧。尽管你知道我是怎样爱着亲王和克劳狄奥，然而我以我的名誉起誓，我不会向他们泄露半点秘密。”

在他们的劝说下，莱昂那多顺从地答应了。他悲哀地说，“这个时候我只顾着伤心，一点主意也没有了，哪怕一根细麻绳也能把我牵走。”好心的神父一边安慰莱昂那多和希罗，一边把他们领走了，只有比阿特丽斯和培尼狄克留了下来。他们的朋友曾经为了解闷，设计出有趣的情节将他们两个撮和到一块儿，如今，这些朋友们都被痛苦淹没了，他们头脑中那些好玩儿的想法似乎永远消失了。

培尼狄克首先开口打破了沉默，他问：“比阿特丽斯小姐，你一直都在流泪吗？”“是呀，我要继续哭下去，”比阿特丽斯说。“真是的，”培尼狄克说，“我确实相信你妹妹是被冤枉了。”“啊，”比阿特丽斯说，“要是有人能替她伸冤，我就愿意跟他做朋友。”培尼狄克说：“用什么方式体现那种友谊呢？在这个世界上只有你是我最爱的人，这不是很奇怪吗？”比阿特丽斯说：“我也可以说，世界上只有你是我最爱的人。但是，别相信我的话，当然我也没撒谎。我什么也没承认，什么也没拒绝。我只是可怜我妹妹。”“以我的剑起誓，”培尼狄克说，“你爱我，而且我敢肯定，我也爱你。来吧，吩咐我，我愿意为你做任何事情。”“杀死克劳狄奥，”比阿特丽斯说。“不！这可办不到，”培尼狄克说。因为他爱他的朋友克劳狄奥，而且他相信他准是上当受骗了。“难道不是克劳狄奥这个坏蛋诽谤、污蔑、玷污了我妹妹吗？”比阿特丽斯问道。“啊，让我变成一个男人吧！”“听我说，比阿特丽斯！”培尼狄克哀求说。但是比阿特丽斯不想听培尼狄克为克劳狄奥辩护，她一味要求培尼狄克为她妹妹的冤屈复仇。她说：“在窗口跟一个男人说话？说得真好听！亲爱的希罗，她含冤受屈，这辈子算是完了。啊，因为克劳狄奥的缘故我但愿成为一个男人！或者我希望有哪位朋友能因为我的缘故成为真正的男子汉！只可惜，当今世上豪侠精神都被打恭作揖、阿谀奉承给融化掉了。我不能如愿地成为一个男人，也只好作为一个女人伤心地死去。”“等一下，亲爱的比阿特丽斯，”培尼狄克说。“凭我这双手起誓，我爱你。”“如果你真的爱我，那么把你的手用在别的地方总比用在发誓上更有意义。”“你肯定真的是克劳狄奥冤枉了希罗吗？”培尼狄克问。“是的，”比阿特丽斯回答，“正如我有思想或灵魂一样千真万确。”“这就足够了，”培尼狄克说。“一言为定，我要跟克劳狄奥决斗。不过，在我离开你之前，我想亲吻你的手。凭着这只手，我非教训教训克劳狄奥不可！你就等着听我的消息好了。当然，你要把我装在你心里。去吧，安慰安慰你妹妹。”

培尼狄克如此这般地恳求比阿特丽斯，她的一番气话激起了他的豪侠气概，为了希罗，他甚至不惜跟他亲爱的朋友克劳狄奥决斗。此时，莱昂那多正跟亲王和克劳狄奥决斗，他要用他的剑为她含冤而死的女儿讨回公道。但是他们看在他的一把年纪和悲伤的分上，劝他说：“哎哟，老人家，别跟我们吵架了。”这时，培尼狄克走过来向克劳狄奥挑战，他也要用他的剑为克劳狄奥给希罗造成的伤害讨个公道。对此，克劳狄奥和亲王彼此说：“这是比阿特丽斯叫他来干的。”然而，克劳狄奥必须接受培尼狄克的挑战，除非他拿出更充分的证据证明希罗的清白，否则就只有接受决斗中难以把握的命运。

正当亲王和克劳狄奥讨论培尼狄克的挑战时，一位地方官带着囚犯波拉契奥来到亲王面前。波拉契奥就是前面提到的受雇于唐·约翰，对希罗进行恶意伤害的同伙之一。

波拉契奥向亲王承认，在窗口跟他谈话的是玛格丽特，她穿着小姐的衣裳，使亲王和克劳狄奥错把她当成是希罗本人了。克劳狄奥和亲王不再怀疑希罗的清白，就算那样的疑虑还存在的话，也会因唐·约翰的逃跑而改变。唐·约翰发现自己的恶行已败露，为了逃避哥哥的愤怒，便从墨西拿逃跑了。

当克劳狄奥得知自己错怪了希罗，心里十分难过，他想，正是他粗鲁的语言杀死了她；现在，希罗的形象又像他最初爱她时那样美好了。亲王问克劳狄奥，当他听到波拉契奥的一席话，是不是感到像有一把烧红的烙铁烙在心上？克劳狄奥回答说，波拉契奥的话让他感到像喝了毒药。

克劳狄奥祈求老莱昂那多宽恕他曾经给他的孩子造成的伤害，由于他错怪了他已订婚的妻子，所以无论莱昂那多怎样惩罚他，他都愿意领受。

作为惩罚莱昂那多让他次日早晨迎娶希罗的堂妹，他的侄女。莱昂那多说，那姑娘现在是他的后嗣，而且长得也非常像希罗。克劳狄奥郑重地向莱昂那多承诺，说他一定会娶那不相识的姑娘为妻，就算她是个丑陋的阿比西尼亚人，他也决不食言。但是他依旧非常悲伤，一整个晚上都守在莱昂那多为希罗竖的墓碑前伤心、流泪。

早晨，亲王陪着克劳狄奥来到教堂，仁慈的神父、莱昂那多及他的侄女已经等在那里了，预备庆祝第二个婚礼。莱昂那多为克劳狄奥引见他答应迎娶的新娘。她戴着面具，克劳狄奥无法看见她的脸。于是，克劳狄奥对戴面具的姑娘说：“当着神圣的神父，请把手给我。我是你的丈夫，假如你愿意嫁给我。”“当我活着的时候，我是你的另一位妻子，”不相识的姑娘说着，随手摘下面具。克劳狄奥惊奇地发现，她哪里是莱昂那多的侄女，分明就是他的女儿——希罗姑娘本人。可想而知，此时此刻克劳狄奥该是怎样的惊喜，他本以为希罗真的死了，高兴得不敢相信自己的眼睛。亲王同样为眼前所见到的一切感到惊讶，他大声惊呼：“你难道真的是希罗，已经死去的希罗吗？”莱昂那多回答，“殿下，当谗言还活着的时候，她才是死的。”神父答应等婚礼结束后为他们解释个中奥妙。婚礼正要往下进行，却被培尼狄克给打断了，他请求神父在同一时间为他和比阿特丽斯举行婚礼。比阿特丽斯则对婚事提出抗议，培尼狄克用他从希罗那里了解到的她的爱回击她，于是，愉快的辩解开始了。他们发现，他们两个人都被诱惑进了一场爱情的圈套里，一些情节从来就没发生过，但是恶作剧的力量确实使他们变成了一对恋人。而恶作剧创造的爱情居然非常稳固，以至于任何冷嘲热讽也不能使它动摇。自从培尼狄克提出结婚，他就决定不去顾及别人怎么说。他继续俏皮地向比阿特丽斯发誓，说他娶她仅仅是为了怜悯她，因为他听说她爱他爱得要死要活；比阿特丽斯反唇相讥，说她的屈服主要是抵挡不住别人的劝说，部分原因是想救他一命，因为她早听说，他因为害了单相思正一天天消瘦下去。就这样，在希罗和克劳狄奥完婚之后，两个能言善辩的年轻人也结了婚。故事的结局是，制造恶行的唐·约翰在出逃的路上给人捉住了，被带回到墨西拿。对于这个一脸沮丧、满腹牢骚的人，让他亲眼看看墨西拿宫殿里的人们怎样欢欢喜喜举行盛大的婚礼庆典，世上没有什么比这个惩罚更让他难受了。

皆大欢喜

在法兰西分省（或者它们被称做公爵领地）期间，其中有个省被一位权力篡夺者统治着，他罢黜并驱逐了他的兄长，一位合法的公爵。

从此，这位公爵被赶出了他的领地，带着几位忠实的追随者隐退到阿尔丁森林地带。在那儿，公爵和他亲爱的朋友们生活在一起，为了他，他们自愿过着流放的日子，与此同时，他们的土地和收入都被那个篡位者没收了。很快，他们便习惯了在森林里无忧无虑的生活，对他们来说，这种日子比做朝臣表面浮华、实则不自在更美好。在这儿，他们过得就像英格兰的老罗宾汉。每天都有从宫廷来的贵族青年投奔这片森林，时光悄然流逝，而他们在此度过金色年华。夏天，他们躲在森林中的树阴里，给野鹿有趣的行踪做记号。野鹿仿佛是森林里的土著居民，他们是那么喜欢这些可怜的带斑点的生灵，每当为了弄些鹿肉来充饥而不得不下手杀死它们的时候，心里总是觉得很难受。即使冬天的寒风使公爵感觉到他命运里不幸的变化，他也决定耐心地忍受下去，他说：“这些吹在我身上的冷风是忠实的仆人，他们不阿谀奉承，只是把我的处境真实地表达出来而已。即便它们用锋利的牙齿咬疼我，也没有不近人情、忘恩负义的人可怕。我发现，无论人们说出多么不幸的事情，总可以从中吸取一些有益的东西。作为入药的药材，从可恶的蟾蜍脑袋里提取出来的毒素，不是跟宝石一样珍贵吗？”以这种心态，富于忍耐力的公爵从他所接触的每一样事物中都能汲取精神财富。由于认识的转变，在他远离人群的生活中，却能从树木上发现语言，在奔流的小溪里发现书籍，在石头中发现训诫，在万物中获得教益。

被流放的公爵有个独生女，名叫罗莎琳德，篡位的公爵弗雷德里克将她父亲流放后，仍把她留在宫中陪伴自己的女儿西莉亚。两个女孩之间有着深厚的感情，即使她们的父亲不和，也丝毫没有阻碍两人的情义。由于自己的父亲在罢黜罗莎琳德的父亲这件事上做得不公，西莉亚便用善意的行动，尽可能地对罗莎琳德表现出她的仁慈。在罗莎琳德这边，对流放中的父亲的牵挂，以及自己对无情无义的叔叔的依附，无时无刻不使她笼罩在忧郁之中，而西莉亚的全部心思就是不停地安慰她，使她开心。

一天，西莉亚正用一惯亲切的口吻跟罗莎琳德聊天，她说，“罗莎琳德，我亲爱的姐姐，求你高兴一点吧。”就在这时，从公爵那儿来的信使走了进来，告诉她们说，如果她们想去看摔跤比赛，就请赶紧到宫殿门前去，比赛就要开始了。西莉亚认为这是个让罗莎琳德开心的好办法，便答应去看看。

在美丽的小姐和公主出生以前，摔跤曾经是公爵府上一项非常受欢迎的运动，而现在这项运动不过是几个乡下人的演练。西莉亚和罗莎琳德之所以去看摔跤比赛，是因为她们觉得摔跤比赛可能会有一个悲剧性的场面。因为，有一位强有力的巨人，从事摔跤运动已经有些年头了，技术纯熟，他在这项比赛中杀死过许多人。他正要跟一个非常年轻的人摔跤，由于他极其年轻并缺乏经验，人们都担心他没准儿会送了命。

公爵看见西莉亚和罗莎琳德来了，便对她们说：“哎，我的女儿和侄女，怎么你们两个也凑过来看摔跤？对手实力悬殊，你们不会感到有趣的。这个可怜的年轻人，我想不如劝他别上场了。姑娘们，你们去对他讲吧，看看能不能说动他。”

两位小姐很乐意履行这个仁慈的使命。西莉亚先去恳求那年轻的陌生人放弃这场恶战，接着罗莎琳德温柔地告诉他，她预感到他将会有危险。可这个年轻人不肯听从她们的话，他倒想让两位小姐亲眼见识一下他的勇气。就这样，他拒绝了西莉亚和罗莎琳德的好意。这样她们对他越发关心了，他说：“我很抱歉不能按照两位美貌绝伦的小姐的意思去做。但是我想让你们用美丽的眼睛和美好的愿望跟随我去碰碰运气，如果我失败了，我会感到羞愧，那绝不是一件令人开心的事；如果我死了，也是我心甘情愿一死。我这样做将会使我的朋友们免遭不幸，因此我一点儿也不会为此感到悲伤。这个世界即使我不在也不会有什么损失，因为我在这世上一无所有，我只是在天地间白白占着一个位置，如果我死了，就会把这个位置腾出来，提供给更需要它的人。”

摔跤比赛眼看就要开始了。西莉亚希望这个陌生的年轻人不会受到伤害。而罗莎琳德更为他担心。他说他在世间无依无靠，那岂不是像她自己一样不幸吗？她非常同情他，当他摔跤的时候她为他提心吊胆，几乎可以说，那一刻她已经心系于他了。

两位美丽高贵的姑娘所表现出的仁慈给了这个无名的小伙子以勇气和力量，他竟然创造了奇迹，最终彻底战胜了对手。那个人看起来伤得很重，半天说不出话来，也动弹不得。

弗雷德里克公爵为这个陌生的年轻人的勇气和技艺而高兴，他很想知道他的名字和出身，并打算接纳他。

陌生的年轻人说，他叫奥兰多，是罗兰爵士最小的孩子。

罗兰爵士的孩子？奥兰多的父亲已经离开人世许多年了，但是在他活着的时候，他曾经是被驱逐的公爵的忠实臣子和最亲密的朋友。因此，当弗雷德里克听到奥兰多说，他是被驱逐的哥哥的朋友之子后，立刻对这位勇敢的年轻人由喜欢变成了愤恨。于是弗雷德里克闷闷不乐地离开了，因为他不想听到任何一个他哥哥的朋友的名字。然而他在心里还是很赏识这位勇敢的年轻人，当他离开后，暗想，倘若奥兰多是别的什么人的儿子就好了。

罗莎琳德听说她最喜欢的这个大男孩儿是她父亲的老朋友的儿子，心里非常高兴，她对西莉亚说，“我父亲特别喜欢罗兰爵士的孩子们，要是我早知道这个年轻人是他的儿子，我会哭喊着哀求他别去冒险。”

两位小姐来到奥兰多的跟前，望着因公爵的突然不快而显得不安的他，说了一些友好的鼓励的话。当她们就要离开的时候，罗莎琳德转过身来对这位她父亲的老朋友的勇敢的儿子又说了些体贴的话，并取下脖子上的项链，对奥兰多说：“先生，请把这个收下吧。我命运不济，不然的话我会送你一件更贵重的礼物。”

当两位小姐独处的时候，罗莎琳德的话总是离不开奥兰多，西莉亚开始感觉到堂姐已经爱上了这个年轻英俊的摔跤手，她忍不住问罗莎琳德：“莫非你这么快就坠入爱河了吗？”

罗莎琳德回答：“公爵，我的父亲，深深地爱着他的父亲。”“于是，”西莉亚说，“你就深深地爱上他的儿子了吗？如此我该恨他，因为我父亲恨他父亲。但是我却并不恨他。”

弗雷德里克还在为见到罗兰爵士的儿子生气，这件事让他想起了被流放的公爵的许多贵族朋友，同时他也开始时不时地憎恨起他的侄女来，因为人人都在颂扬她的美德，并因为她父亲的缘故而同情她。就这样，他对罗莎琳德的怨恨突然爆发了。此时，当西莉亚正和罗莎琳德谈论奥兰多的时候，弗雷德里克走进她们的房间，怒气冲冲地望着罗莎琳德，命令她立刻离开宫殿随她父亲去过流亡的生活去。西莉亚为罗莎琳德求情，但却是徒劳，因为他告诉西莉亚，让罗莎琳德留在宫里不过是为了她的缘故。西莉亚说：“那时候我并未乞求您把她留下来，是因为当时我太小了，还不懂她的好，但是现在我知道她是多么珍贵。很久以来我们同眠同醒，一块读书，一块玩耍，一块吃饭，须臾不离左右，没她陪伴我，我就活不下去。”弗雷德里克回答说：“罗莎琳德太油滑了。她的温柔和十足的沉静，她对人们讲话的耐心，以及人们对她的同情，这一切都对你不利，你却为她求情，简直太愚蠢了。只有在她离开后，你才能显露出你的聪明和贞静。所以，还是闭上你的嘴，别再为她说好话了，我加在她头上的厄运不可更改。”

当西莉亚发现无法说服父亲让罗莎琳德留下来陪她，便毅然决定去陪伴罗莎琳德。就在当天夜里，西莉亚离开她父亲的宫殿，跟罗莎琳德一起前往阿尔丁森林地带，寻找罗莎琳德的父亲，被流放的公爵。

出发前，西莉亚考虑到两个年轻姑娘身着美丽华服去旅行不够安全，因此提议乔装身份，把她们自己打扮成乡下女孩儿的样子。罗莎琳德说，如果她们当中一个假扮成男子，就会更加安全一些了。两人很快达成默契。罗莎琳德个子高挑，理应穿扮成乡下男人的样子，而西莉亚应穿得像个乡下女子，这样一来，他们的关系就成了哥哥和妹妹。罗莎琳德说，她的名字将改称盖尼米德，而西莉亚给自己取了个爱莲娜的名字。

两位公主这样乔装打扮后，带上盘缠和珠宝，动身踏上漫长的旅程。去阿尔丁森林地带要走很长的路，因为那里在公爵控制的领地之外。

扮成小伙子的罗莎琳德小姐（或称盖尼米德，因为现在必须这样称呼她了），似乎在她的身体里灌注了男子汉气概。陪罗莎琳德走了那么长的路，西莉亚表现出了对友谊的忠诚，这位新“哥哥”以格外的快乐回报她纯真的爱，好像她真的是盖尼米德——温柔的山村女孩儿爱莲娜的粗俗勇敢的哥哥。

她们终于来到阿尔丁森林，路上却再也找不到舒适的旅馆和满意的饭店为她们提供理想的住处和膳食。然而，爱莲娜一路上有说有笑，欢呼雀跃，盖尼米德也因此更加快活。眼下盖尼米德向爱莲娜承认，她很疲惫，并因此感到白白玷污了那身男装，说着说着竟像女人一样抽泣起来。爱莲娜宣称她再也走不动步了，于是，盖尼米德再一次想到照顾和安慰女人是男人的责任，便在他新妹妹面前表现出很勇敢的样子，他说：“来，打起精神，我的好妹妹爱莲娜。来到阿尔丁森林，意味着我们的旅途就要结束了。”但是，假装的刚毅和勉强的勇敢到底无法支持她们走太久。因为，尽管她们进入了阿尔丁森林地带，却不知道到哪里去找公爵。两位公主的旅行可能会得到一个悲惨的结局。她们可能会迷路，可能会饿死。然而上帝保佑，正当她们坐在草地上，差不多疲惫而绝望地死去时，一位乡下人刚好打这条路上经过，盖尼米德再一次鼓起男人的勇气开口说道：“好心的牧羊人，在这荒凉的地方，假如付出爱和金钱便能得到所需要的款待，我恳请您把我们带到一个能歇脚的地方，因为，这个小姑娘，我妹妹，她走得太累了，而且眼看就要饿昏了。”

那男人回答说，他不过是牧羊人的仆人，他主人刚好想把房子卖掉，所以，恐怕没有什么好款待他们的。不过，假如他们愿意跟他走一趟，他们还是会受到欢迎的。他们跟着这个男人去了，近在眼前的一线希望立刻给他们增添了活力。于是，他们买下了牧羊人的房子和羊，并雇用带他们来的那个牧羊人的仆人服侍他们。就这样，他们幸运地有了一间整洁的村舍，同时也获得了充足的生活用品。两人一致同意先在这儿住下来，直到打听到公爵的住地。

等他们从旅途的疲惫中恢复过来以后，两人竟喜欢上了农舍里的新生活，他们差不多把自己当成了真正的牧羊人和牧羊女。然而，盖尼米德总是忘不了他和罗莎琳德小姐是同一个人，并且在她心里一直深深爱着勇敢的奥兰多，因为他是父亲的朋友罗兰爵士的儿子。尽管盖尼米德认为奥兰多在很远的地方，甚至像他们旅行中走过的路程那么遥远，然而不久，奥兰多竟奇迹般地出现在阿尔丁森林。意想不到的事情就这样发生了。

奥兰多是罗兰爵士最小的儿子，罗兰爵士临死前，把他托付给长子奥利弗照顾，那时候奥兰多还很年幼。罗兰爵士嘱咐奥利弗要让他弟弟受到良好的教育，并提供给他名门望族家庭应有的待遇。而事实证明，奥利弗是个不称职的兄长，他无视死去的父亲的遗训，根本就没将弟弟送进学校，而是把他留在家里，既不接受教育，也无人照管。但是，奥兰多天性中所具备的高贵品质很像他那卓而不群的父亲，以至于虽然没有受教育的条件，却跟在细心呵护下成长起来的年轻人没什么两样。奥利弗非常嫉妒这个没受过教育的弟弟长得竟这般好，举止又这样落落大方，以至于到后来一心想毁了他。为了达到目的，奥利弗怂恿他人劝说奥兰多跟著名的摔跤手比试，正如前面叙述的那样，那个摔跤手是个杀死过许多人的大力士。正因为狠心的哥哥不把他放在眼里，才使得奥兰多说出那句无朋无友想一死了之的话。

然而，与奥利弗当初的恶意相悖，他弟弟赢了。听到这个消息，奥利弗的嫉妒和怨恨无限膨胀，他发誓，要一把火烧掉奥兰多睡觉的房子。而他的自言自语竟被一位老人偷听到了，这位老人曾是他们父亲的忠实仆人，正因为奥兰多很像罗兰爵士，他一直都很喜爱奥兰多。当奥兰多从公爵府上回来，老仆人便出门去迎候他。老仆人一想到小主人奥兰多正处于危险境地，便激动地提醒他：

“哦，我高贵的少爷，善良的少爷！啊，您让我想起了尊贵的老罗兰爵士！您为什么那么优秀呢？您为什么那么高贵，那么强壮，又那么勇敢呢？您为什么出人意料地战胜了著名的摔跤手呢？您的荣耀太快地先于你进了家门。”

奥兰多对老仆人的话感到莫名其妙，他问，出了什么事吗？于是老人告诉他，人们对他的爱戴引起了他狠心的哥哥的嫉妒，眼下奥利弗又听说他在公爵府获胜并获得荣誉一事，正打算连夜点着他住的房子，烧死他呢。最后老人建议奥兰多，为了免遭劫难，他最好赶紧逃跑。亚当（这是老仆人的名字）知道奥兰多没有钱，便把他自己攒的一点积蓄带了出来，他说：

“我有500克朗，是您父亲在世时给我的工钱，我节省下来，以备年老体弱干不动活时糊口。您拿上吧，上帝既然给乌鸦以食物，也不会亏待我这把老骨头！钱都在这儿，您统统带上。让我做您的仆人好了，我虽然看起来很老，可眼下还像年轻人一样有力气，我可以帮您打理一切事务。”

“啊，善良的老人家！”奥兰多说，“您身上难得还保留着古代侠士的忠肝义胆！可惜现在的人们已经不再推崇这个了。既然您这么说，我们就一起上路吧，在您年轻时挣下的钱花光之前，我总能找到一个能让我们两人维持生计的办法。”

就这样，忠实的仆人和他所爱戴的主人一起出发了。奥兰多和亚当不停地赶路，他们没有确定的目标，直到他们来到阿尔丁森林地带，在那儿，他们与盖尼米德和爱莲娜一样，陷入找不到食物的困境之中。他们在森林中徘徊，到处寻找有人居住的地方，又累又饿，差不多筋疲力尽了。

最后，亚当说：“啊，我亲爱的主人，我快要饿死了，再也挪不动步了！”说着，他就倒下了，想把那地方当做他葬身的墓地，他在此跟亲爱的主人诀别。

望着老仆人虚弱无力的样子，奥兰多用胳膊架着，将他带到一片树阴下休息。他对老仆人说：“振作起来吧，好亚当。在这儿歇歇脚，别老是把死挂在嘴边！”

然后，奥兰多四处寻找食物。他碰巧来到森林里公爵栖身的地方。公爵和他的朋友们正准备吃饭，只见高贵的公爵坐在草地上，除了大树的树阴外别无遮篷。

饱受饥饿之苦的奥兰多不顾一切地拔出剑来，他打算用武力夺取他们的食物。他命令道：“快停下，别再吃了。把食物统统交出来！”

公爵问他，是因为落难才使他变得这样蛮横，还是因为生来就是个不把礼貌当回事的莽夫。对此奥兰多的回答是，他快要饿死了。于是，公爵对他说，欢迎他坐下来跟他们一起进餐。奥兰多听他的口气如此温和，便收回他的剑，并深为自己的粗鲁无礼而脸红。

“原谅我吧，求您了，我以为在这儿一切都是野蛮的，所以才装出一副凶相要挟你们。可是不论你们是些什么人，在这样的荒野里，在阴郁的树阴下，不理会时光流逝；假如你们曾经见过好日子，假如你们曾经去过鸣钟召集礼拜的地方，假如你们曾经坐在上流人参加的宴会上，假如你们曾经擦拭眼里的泪水，懂得怜悯或被怜悯的话，那么请让这些温和的话感动你们，用人类的礼貌来对待我吧！”

公爵回答说：“如你所言，我们正是那样的人，见识过比较好的日子，虽然我们现在住在原始森林里，而从前我们却是生活在城镇和城市，在钟声的召唤下走进教堂，坐在上流人士出席的宴会中间，也曾从我们眼睛上揩去因怜惜而流下的泪水。因此，请您坐下来跟我们一起进餐吧，凡是需要我们帮忙的，我们一定效劳。”

“有个可怜的老人，”奥兰多回答，“纯粹因为爱我的缘故，一瘸一拐地跟着我走了很远的路，他忍受着衰老和饥饿的双重折磨，在他吃饱之前我是不会碰这些食物的。”

“那就快去找他，把他带到这儿来吧，”公爵说，“在你回来之前我们一定克制住食欲。”

于是，奥兰多走了，就像一头母鹿去寻找他的小鹿，给他提供吃食一样。不久，他回来了，抱着亚当。

公爵说，“放下这位可敬的老人，欢迎你们二人的到来。”

他们给老人喂了些吃的，并为他的心脏跳动而高兴。老人终于苏醒过来，渐渐恢复了健康和体力。

公爵询问奥兰多的身世。当他发现奥兰多是他的老朋友罗兰爵士的儿子时，便决定把他留下来。从此，奥兰多和他的老仆人与公爵他们一起生活在森林里。

奥兰多来到森林不几日，盖尼米德和爱莲娜也到了那里（正如上面提到的那样），并且买下了牧羊人的村舍。

盖尼米德和爱莲娜惊讶地发现，森林中许多树上都刻有罗莎琳德的名字，并贴有十四行爱情诗，那些诗都是写给罗莎琳德的。不久，更加奇怪的事情发生了，他们居然见到了奥兰多，而且认出了他脖子上的项链，那正是罗莎琳德送给他的。

可奥兰多怎么也没想到盖尼米德就是美丽的罗莎琳德。罗莎琳德凭着高贵的气质和可爱的模样，早已赢得了奥兰多的心，以至于他来到森林后，每天在树上刻她的名字，写颂扬她的赞美诗，来打发时光。而俊美的牧羊少年也令他格外开心，他走过来与他攀谈。他发觉盖尼米德与他深爱的罗莎琳德长得极其相像，只是他没有那位高贵的小姐的庄严仪表。因为，盖尼米德总是装作一副少年老成的样子，常被认为他是介于男孩与成年男子之间的年轻人。他狡猾而幽默地跟奥兰多谈起一位多情的情人，“他常来我们的树林，毁坏我们的小树，把罗莎琳德几个字刻在树皮上，并且把赞美诗悬挂在山楂树上，把哀歌悬挂在荆棘丛里，一切全都是为着这一个罗莎琳德。如果我遇到了这个多情的人，我将会给他一些治愈相思病的善意忠告。”

奥兰多坦然承认，自己就是他说的那个多情人，他请盖尼米德把他说的善意忠告讲给他听。盖尼米德便说出了他的“药方”，他给他的忠告是：奥兰多应该每天都到他和他妹妹居住的这个村舍里来。

“然后，”盖尼米德说，“我将假扮成罗莎琳德，而你假装向我求爱，就好比我真是罗莎琳德那样，然后我将模仿那些反复无常的女子对她们的求爱者所做的那样，直到让你为你的痴情而羞愧得无地自容。这就是我打算用来治疗你的相思病的办法。”

奥兰多对这样的治疗方法没有太大的信心，不过他还是同意每天来盖尼米德的村舍扮演一个有趣的求爱者。奥兰多每天都来拜访盖尼米德和爱莲娜，他称牧羊少年盖尼米德为罗莎琳德，一天到晚对她甜言蜜语，奉承她，恭维她，就像年轻人向他们的爱人求爱时通常表现的那样，乐此不疲。然而，在盖尼米德治疗奥兰多对罗莎琳德的相思病上，看不出有任何进展。

尽管奥兰多知道所有这一切不过是闹着玩的（他并不梦想盖尼米德真是他的罗莎琳德），但这个游戏还是给了他倾吐心声的机会，这令他感到十分愉快，也让盖尼米德感到快乐，她明知道奥兰多的这些情话都是说给她这个真实的罗莎琳德的，而在这种只有她自己心知肚明的秘密游戏里，她只是偷偷地享受着快乐，并不急于揭穿谜底。

就这样，三个年轻人愉快地度过了许多天。好心的爱莲娜眼看着这样的游戏使盖尼米德开心，也就随他去了，反正扮演的这出求婚戏使她感到有趣，所以她也没有去提醒他——罗莎琳德小姐，她至今还没与公爵——她的父亲相认，而事实上，他们已经从奥兰多那里了解到公爵在森林中的住处。

有一天，盖尼米德遇见了公爵，跟他在一起聊天。公爵问起他的身世，盖尼米德回答说，他的出身跟他一样高贵。他的回答令公爵开心地笑起来，因为他没有料到这个俊美的牧羊少年出身于贵族。看见公爵看上去那么健康快乐，盖尼米德打算拖延几天再作进一步的解释。

一个早晨，奥兰多正打算去拜访盖尼米德，他在半路上看见一个人躺在地上睡着了，而一条大绿蛇正盘绕在他的脖子上。蛇看见奥兰多走过来，很快就滑进了矮树丛。奥兰多走近那人，却见一头母狮子头枕在地上，蜷缩着身子躺在那人旁边，像猫一样注视着他，只等他醒过来的那一刻（据说，狮子从不捕获死去或者睡着的动物）。似乎奥兰多是上帝派来解救这个处于蛇和狮子的威胁之中的人。可是，当奥兰多看清了那人的脸时，他发现这个暴露在双重危险中睡着了的家伙不是别人，正是自己的哥哥奥利弗。奥利弗曾经那么残忍地对待他，并威胁要放火烧死他，他真恨不得把他留给饥饿的狮子饱餐一顿。但是，手足之情和天性的善良很快战胜了他对哥哥最初的仇恨，他拔出剑来与狮子搏斗。就这样，他从毒蛇和凶猛的狮子口中救了他哥哥一命。但是，在他战胜狮子之前，狮子用利爪抓破了他的胳膊。

当奥兰多正与狮子搏斗时，奥利弗醒了，他一眼认出了奥兰多——那个曾经被他残忍地伤害过的弟弟，眼下他正冒着生命危险，从一头狂怒的野兽口中将他搭救出来，耻辱和自责立刻占据了他的心，他后悔自己过去的那些不耻行为，流着眼泪哀求弟弟原谅他曾经对他的伤害。奥兰多很高兴他能这样忏悔过错，欣然地宽恕了哥哥。他们彼此拥抱。从此，奥利弗以真正的兄弟情义爱着奥兰多，尽管他来到森林原本是想害他的。

奥兰多胳膊上的伤流了很多血，他感觉自己非常虚弱，不能去拜访盖尼米德了，于是他想请他哥哥走一趟，去通知盖尼米德他的失约。奥兰多说，“那个盖尼米德，我和他在做一个游戏，我称他为罗莎琳德。”于是，意外的事情便这样发生了。

于是，奥利弗就去了。他告诉盖尼米德和爱莲娜，奥兰多怎样救了他一命。他讲到奥兰多如何勇敢，以及他自己如何幸运地死里逃生，当他讲完这个故事后，他向他们坦白，他就是奥兰多的哥哥，曾经那么残忍地虐待过他的那个人。接着他告诉他们，他和奥兰多已经和好了。

奥利弗为自己的过错深表痛心，这给善良的爱莲娜留下了非常美好的印象，以至于她立刻爱上了他。奥利弗看出爱莲娜是那么同情不幸者，便告诉她，他已经感知到了自己的过错。同样地，奥利弗也立刻爱上了爱莲娜。就在爱情如此悄然走进爱莲娜和奥利弗的心房时，奥利弗没有顾及到盖尼米德的反应。盖尼米德一听到奥兰多的危险处境以及被狮子所伤的情形，竟一下子昏了过去。他醒过来后却假装说，他这晕倒是装出来的，因为他正在扮演罗莎琳德这个假想的人物。盖尼米德对奥利弗说：

“去告诉你贤弟奥兰多，我的晕倒装得有多么像。”

奥利弗从他苍白的脸色上看出，他方才是真的晕过去了。他很奇怪这个年轻人竟然如此虚弱，就说：“好了，如果你真是假装的，那就打起精神来装一个男子汉吧。”

“我本来就是这样做着的，”盖尼米德老实地说。 “但是，我原本是个真正的女人。”

奥利弗把这次拜访变成了长时间的会面，最后，当他回到他弟弟的住处时，他给他带来了好多好多信息。因为，除了讲述盖尼米德听到奥兰多受伤时晕倒以外，奥利弗还给他讲了自己如何爱上了美丽的牧羊女爱莲娜，而且，即使这是他们的初次见面，她那敏慧的耳朵也已经听到了他的求爱。他告诉弟弟，这件事差不多已经定下来了，他很快就将娶爱莲娜为妻，他说，他是那么爱她，想就在这儿当一辈子牧羊人，而把家里的财产和房屋全都留给奥兰多。

“我同意，”奥兰多说，“就把你的婚礼定于明天举行吧，我把公爵和他的朋友们都请来。去，劝你的牧羊女答应下来。她现在正好一个人呆着，因为，你看，她哥哥来了。”

于是奥利弗去找爱莲娜，而奥兰多发觉盖尼米德已走到面前，他是来问候受伤的朋友的。

奥兰多和盖尼米德开始谈论奥利弗和爱莲娜两人突然产生的爱情。奥兰多说，他已经建议哥哥劝说美丽的牧羊女明天就嫁给他呢。他又说，多么希望就在同一天他也能迎娶罗莎琳德啊。

盖尼米德非常赞同这个安排，他说，假如奥兰多真的像他自己说的那么爱罗莎琳德的话，他将能实现他的愿望。明天他将让罗莎琳德本人出现，而且罗莎琳德也应该会非常愿意嫁给奥兰多。

这看起来是件令人不可思议的事，而因为盖尼米德本来就是罗莎琳德小姐，所以他完全可以轻而易举地完成这个任务。他假装说，他将借助法术使这件事情成为现实。还说，他的法术是跟一位叔叔学的，那个叔叔是一位著名的魔法师。

痴情的奥兰多对他的话半信半疑，他问盖尼米德，他是否是在清醒的状态下讲这番话的。

“凭我的生命起誓，我说的全是真的，”盖尼米德说，“因此，请穿上你最漂亮的衣裳，让公爵和你的朋友们都来参加你的婚礼吧。因为，如果你真心渴望在明天与罗莎琳德结婚的话，她一定会现身的。”

奥利弗已得到爱莲娜的首肯，第二天，两人双双来到公爵跟前，奥兰多也跟他们一起来了。

大家都被召集到一起，来庆祝两场同时举行的婚礼。然而，因为只有一位新娘出场，人们难免产生疑惑和猜测，大多数人认为那不过是盖尼米德跟奥兰多开个玩笑罢了。

公爵听说他的女儿将会被人用这种奇怪的方式带来，就问奥兰多，他是否真的相信这个牧羊少年能实现他许诺的事情。奥兰多回答，他不知道该不该相信这样的事。就在这时，盖尼米德走了进来，他问公爵，如果他变出了他女儿，他是否同意让她跟奥兰多结婚。

“当然同意，”公爵说，“即使让我拿几个王国给她作陪嫁，我也会同意。”

然后盖尼米德对奥兰多说，“如果我真把罗莎琳德带来，你说你愿意娶她为妻？”

“没错，我愿意，”奥兰多说，“即使我是个集无限江山于一身的国王，我也愿意。”

于是，盖尼米德和爱莲娜一起走了出去。盖尼米德脱去他那一身男性服装，换上了女子的装束，不需要魔法的力量，立刻就变成了罗莎琳德。与此同时，爱莲娜换去一身村姑打扮，穿上自己富丽华贵的衣裙，也一点不费力就转眼变成了西莉亚。

方才，当他们出去后，公爵对奥兰多说，他觉得牧羊少年很像他的女儿罗莎琳德；而奥兰多也说，他察觉到了他们的相像之处。

没工夫让他们推测下文。因为罗莎琳德和西莉亚穿着她们自己的衣裙走进来了，罗莎琳德不再假装借助“魔法”的力量走了进来。罗莎琳德跪在她父亲的面前请求他的祝福。一切是那么奇妙，她的突然出现好像真是经过魔法变身一样。但是，罗莎琳德不愿再戏弄她的父亲了，她给父亲讲述了她遭驱逐的经过，以及她如何假扮牧羊少年在森林中住下，而妹妹爱莲娜正是堂妹西莉亚。

毫无疑问，公爵愉快地答应了婚事。于是奥兰多和罗莎琳德，奥利弗和西莉亚，两对新人在同一时间成了亲。在原始森林中，他们的婚礼尽管不像通常这种场合那样气派奢华，然而像这样快乐的婚礼从来没有人经历过。当他们在凉爽的树阴下享用野味，对于贤德的公爵和这两对忠实的新人来说似乎没有什么比这更幸福的了。就在这时，一位信使出人意料地前来向公爵禀报一个可喜的消息：他的爵位被恢复了！

原来，篡位者弗雷德里克为他女儿西莉亚的逃跑而生气，并且他听说有一些相当富有的人，每天都陆陆续续地来到阿尔丁森林，加入到被流放的合法公爵的群体中，他非常嫉妒他哥哥在遭遇不幸时仍然享有这样高的威望，于是亲率大军进军森林，企图捉拿他哥哥，杀死哥哥以及所有的追随者。但是，由于上帝神奇的干涉，恶毒的弟弟改变了主意。就在进入原始森林边缘的时候，他遇见一位老修士，一个隐居者，他跟他谈了很久，结果让他从邪恶的图谋中完全醒悟过来。从那时起，他成了一个真正的悔过者，并决定放弃不正当的统治，把余生献给修道院。作为证明自己悔过自新的第一个行动，就是派信使去他的哥哥那儿（正如上面已经讲述那样），提出将自己篡夺已久的公国归还给他，并归还他的朋友——忠诚的追随者们的田产和收入。

出人意料的喜讯，受到在场者的欢呼，恰到好处地增添了二位公主婚宴的喜庆气氛。西莉亚向堂姐罗莎琳德恭贺降临在她父亲——公爵头上的好运，希望她能真心地高兴。而西莉亚不再是公爵的继承人，由于她父亲所做的一切，使罗莎琳德成为公爵继承人，但是两位堂姐妹的感情相当深厚，她们彼此之间并不存在任何嫉妒或戒心。

眼下，公爵终于有机会报答那些真正的朋友了，这些可敬的追随者曾经跟随他一同流放，并很有耐性地分享他的厄运，当然他们也更乐意跟他一道回到宫殿里，享受安宁幸福的日子。

威尼斯商人

夏洛克是个生活在威尼斯的犹太人，一个高利贷者，他通过向信奉基督教的商人提供高息贷款，聚敛了大量财富。夏洛克同时也是个硬心肠的人，凡是从他手里贷出去的款都得按照严格的约定收取利息，为此善良的人都讨厌他，尤其是安东尼奥——一位威尼斯的年轻商人。夏洛克同样憎恨安东尼奥。因为安东尼奥常常把钱借给一些穷人，而且对借出去的钱从来不收取利息，正是这个缘故，贪婪的犹太人夏洛克和慷慨的商人安东尼奥彼此存在着很深的敌意。无论何时，只要安东尼奥在交易所里遇见夏洛克，就会辱骂他放高利贷这种无情的交易，这位犹太人表面上容忍克制，背地里却在寻找机会报复。

安东尼奥是现世中最仁慈的人了，家境好而且不厌其烦地对人谦恭礼貌，的确，在意大利，他比任何人都明显地禀承了古罗马人的传统。他受到一切与他同道的市民们的深深拥戴，但他最亲密、最知心的朋友要数巴萨尼奥。他是个威尼斯贵族，祖上却只留给他为数不多的遗产，过于奢侈的花销，使他那份微薄的财产几乎挥霍一空，当然，对于一个年轻的上层人士来说，那么一点财产是太容易消耗掉了。无论什么时候，只要巴萨尼奥需要用钱，安东尼奥都会帮助他，好像他们是长着一颗脑袋，合用一个钱袋的人。

一天，巴萨尼奥来找安东尼奥，告诉他，他希望通过与一位富家小姐结婚来改变自己的命运。他深深爱着那位小姐，她父亲刚刚去世，留给她这个唯一继承人一大笔财产。在她父亲活着的时候，他常去她家中拜访，他发觉这位小姐的眼神里不时向他传递出不易言表的信息，似乎在说他是位受欢迎的求爱者。但是，跟继承了这么多产业的小姐相比，他没有相当的财产与之相匹配，他恳求安东尼奥看在他们交情深厚的分上，给他更大的支持，借给他3000块钱。

当时，安东尼奥手头上没有那么多钱借给朋友，但他相信自己很快就能弄到，不过那要等到他那些满载货物的船只回来。他说，眼下他只好到有钱的放贷者夏洛克那里走一趟，凭他那些货船的信誉向他借这笔钱。

于是，安东尼奥和巴萨尼奥一起来找夏洛克。安东尼奥请这个犹太人按他要求的利息，以他那些在海上航行的船只中的货物作抵押，借给他3000块钱。夏洛克在心里暗自琢磨：“一旦抓住安东尼奥的把柄，就可以狠狠地报我心中的深仇宿怨了。这家伙恨我们犹太民族，他无偿借钱给别人，还当着商人们的面辱骂我和我原本不错的生意，他管那叫盘剥。如果我原谅了他，便是在辱没我的民族！”安东尼奥见他久久沉思不作答复，他急等钱用，就说：“夏洛克，你听见了吗？你能借给我钱吗？”那犹太人回答：“安东尼奥先生，在市场交易所，你曾因为我的钱和高利贷，屡次辱骂我，我对此忍气吞声，只有耸耸肩的份儿。不仅如此，你还骂我是异教徒，是凶残的狗，往我这犹太人的长袍上吐唾沫，用脚踢我，好像我真是条恶狗似的。那么好，现在你却反过来要我帮助你，你来对我说，‘夏洛克，借我点钱吧。’一条狗怎么会有钱呢？难道一条恶狗能借给人3000块钱不成？难道你以为我将弯下身子说，‘好先生，您上个星期三往我身上吐唾沫，另一个时候骂我是狗，为了您这般谦恭的缘故，我得借您一些钱。’”安东尼奥说：“很可能我还会再这样骂你，吐你，踢你。假如你借我这笔钱，不要把它当做借给了一个朋友，我宁愿你只当是借给了一个敌人，那么，如果我失信了，你尽管拉下脸来处罚我。”“哎哟喂，瞧您说的，”夏洛克说，“别这么大火气！我愿意跟您交朋友并得到您的友谊。我将忘掉您曾经给予我的耻辱。我愿意把钱借给您，而不要一个子儿的利息。”这个看起来很友好的提议让安东尼奥感到吃惊。接着，夏洛克继续装出一副仁慈的样子，说他所做的一切都是为了得到安东尼奥的友谊，他愿意借给他3000块钱，而且不要任何利息，只需要安东尼奥跟他一起到律师那里签一份契约，声明如果他不能在指定的时日还钱，作为惩罚，夏洛克将从他身上随便什么地方割下一磅肉。

“就这么定了，”安东尼奥说，“我同意签这个契约，还要当场宣布这个犹太人多么仁慈。”

巴萨尼奥认为，安东尼奥不该跟夏洛克签约。怎奈安东尼奥坚持要签，理由是，在还款期到来之前，他的货船早该回来了，到时候他会有数倍于这个数目的进项。

夏洛克听到他们两人争论不休，便大声嚷嚷：“伟大的亚伯拉罕啊，瞧这些基督徒们疑心多重！他们自己互相欺诈，反过来却要猜疑别人的心。巴萨尼奥，求求你告诉我：如果他到时候不还钱，通过这种惩罚我能够得到什么呢？一磅从人身上割下来的肉还抵不上一磅羊肉或一磅牛肉有利可图。我再说一遍，我是为了博得他的友谊才做这个决定的，如果他愿意，这个契约就这么签了，如果不愿意，只好说声再见。”

尽管犹太人表白他所说的一切都是出于善意，巴萨尼奥还是不希望好朋友安东尼奥为了他的缘故，冒这种骇人听闻的风险。然而，安东尼奥最终还是不顾巴萨尼奥的忠告，签了契约，安东尼奥认为，就像这犹太人所说的，契约不过是个玩笑而已。

巴萨尼奥要娶的那位富家继承人，住在离威尼斯不远的一个叫贝尔蒙特的地方，名曰鲍西娅，她的美貌和智慧不亚于我们在书中读到的那个鲍西娅——加图的女儿、勃鲁托斯的妻子。

巴萨尼奥得到朋友安东尼奥冒着生命危险给他的慷慨资助后，就领着一簇侍从出发去了贝尔蒙特。他穿着一身华服，一路上由一位名叫葛莱西安诺的朋友陪伴。

事实证明，巴萨尼奥的求婚是成功的，鲍西娅很快答应接受他做丈夫。

巴萨尼奥对鲍西娅承认他没有太多的财富，他能够引以为荣的只是他高贵的出身和贵族血统。鲍西娅爱的是巴萨尼奥可敬的人品，她自己有钱，因而不在乎丈夫富不富有，为此鲍西娅以可爱的谦逊回答说，她倒愿意自己有一千倍的美貌，一万倍的财富，才值得他眷爱。接着，多才多艺的鲍西娅悦人地自我贬低说，她是一个没有学识，缺乏教养，也不够成熟的姑娘，只是还不算老，来得及学习补救，他愿意把自己柔顺的心灵交给他，听命于他的教导和管教。她说：“我自己和我所拥有的一切现在全都为你所有。但是巴萨尼奥，我昨天还拥有这座美丽的大厦，是支配自己的女皇，是身居这些仆人之上的女主人，而现在，这座房子，这些仆人，以及我自己，都是你的，我的大人。我把这一切连同这枚戒指都送给你。”说着，她把一枚戒指送给巴萨尼奥。

巴萨尼奥深为鲍西娅的真诚感动，不禁惊奇于她说话的这种态度。正是以这种方式，富有而高贵的鲍西娅接受了并不富裕的男人巴萨尼奥，巴萨尼奥不知怎样表达自己的快乐和对鲍西娅的无限爱意。这可爱的小姐是那么敬重他，除了倾吐爱和感动，真不知道还能做什么。他接过那枚戒指，发誓让它永不离身。

当鲍西娅落落大方地允诺做巴萨尼奥温顺的妻子时，葛莱西安诺和女仆娜莉莎就站在他们身边。葛莱西安诺祝愿巴萨尼奥和慷慨大方的小姐快乐，同时渴望准许他也同时举行婚礼。

“我完全同意，葛莱西安诺，”巴萨尼奥说，“只要你能找到一位妻子。”

于是葛莱西安诺坦然承认，他爱上了鲍西娅小姐的高贵女仆娜莉莎，而且娜莉莎已经答应，如果小姐嫁给巴萨尼奥，她就做他妻子。鲍西娅问娜莉莎，此话当真？娜莉莎回答： “是真的，小姐，要是您赞成的话。”鲍西娅欣然应允。巴萨尼奥高兴地说： “我们的婚宴因为有你们的婚礼添兴，会喜上加喜啦。”

然而，两对恋人的幸福在信使走进来的那一刻突然跌进悲伤的深渊。原来，信使从安东尼奥那里带来一封信，信中有一条可怕的消息。当巴萨尼奥读着安东尼奥的信时，鲍西娅还以为那封信是告诉他某位亲爱的朋友死了，因为他的脸色看起来是那么苍白，便问，是什么样的坏消息使他如此哀伤。巴萨尼奥说：

“啊，亲爱的鲍西娅，这信上有几个不忍卒读的字眼儿！温柔的小姐，当我第一次向你表达我的爱意时，我曾坦率地告诉你说，我的贵族血统是我仅有的财产，但是我那时真该对你说，我比一无所有还要穷困，因为我背负了一身债务啊。”

接着，巴萨尼奥告诉鲍西娅，向她解释所有的一切，关于他如何向安东尼奥借钱，而安东尼奥如何从犹太人夏洛克那里弄到这笔钱，他跟夏洛克签了一份契约，答应他，假如到期不能归还贷款，就得从他身上割一磅肉作为惩罚。巴萨尼奥读了安东尼奥的信，信中这样写道：

“亲爱的巴萨尼奥，我的货船全完了。既然还钱已没有可能，按照跟犹太人签的契约，我理应受到惩罚。我估计性命不保，我只希望临死前见你一面，尽管这么做会扫了你的兴。但是，如果你与我的友情不能说服你回来，权当我没写这封信好了。”

“天啊，亲爱的，”鲍西娅说，“你把手头的事情办完，赶紧回去吧。你可以带上20倍乃至更多的钱去归还借款，不能因为我的巴萨尼奥的过失让这位好心的朋友损失一根头发。你既然付出这么大代价得到我的爱，我也将用深深的爱来回报你。”

鲍西娅还说，她决定在巴萨尼奥出发以前就嫁给他，这样也好让他取得合法使用她的钱的权利。就在当天，他们举行了婚礼，葛莱西安诺也跟娜莉莎结了婚。婚礼之后，巴萨尼奥和葛莱西安诺立即赶往威尼斯。在威尼斯的监狱里，巴萨尼奥见到了安东尼奥。

此时还款的日子已过，残忍的犹太人不肯接受巴萨尼奥还给他的钱，而是坚持要安东尼奥身上的一磅肉。这一天已经定下来，由威尼斯公爵亲自审判这件骇人听闻的案子。巴萨尼奥怀着恐惧的心情等待着审讯的开始。

鲍西娅与丈夫分手的时候，她曾愉快地跟他话别，吩咐他回来的时候要将他的好朋友也一块带来。然而她还是担心事情对安东尼奥不利，当只剩下她一人时，她开始思索，并暗自琢磨是否可以采取某种更有效的办法，帮助她亲爱的巴萨尼奥拯救朋友。尽管她希望自己像表白过的那样尊重巴萨尼奥，履行一个温顺妻子的本分，在一切事情上服从他作为男人的更理性的意志，然而眼下，她丈夫的朋友正处在危险之中，一种使命感召唤她必须采取行动，她不怀疑自己有这个能力。凭着她那真实完美的判断力的指点，她决定立刻动身去威尼斯，为安东尼奥辩护。

鲍西娅有一位亲戚，是个律师，名叫培拉里奥，她给他写信把案情告诉他，希望听听他的意见，并希望随同建议连同一件律师袍子寄给她。不久，信使回来了，带来了培拉里奥的信。他在信中教给她一个办法，还为她带来了每一样必备的东西。

鲍西娅将自己和她的仆人娜莉莎打扮成男人的样子，她穿上律师的长袍，而娜莉莎则以书记员的身份陪伴她，两人很快出发了。她们到达威尼斯的那天正赶上审讯日。法院里，公爵和威尼斯元老院议员正在听取诉讼事由。就在这时，鲍西娅走了进来，呈上培拉里奥写给公爵的信，信中那位资深的律师对公爵说，他本该亲自来为安东尼奥辩护，但由于身体欠安不能成行，为此请公爵允许他派一位有学问的年轻博士鲍尔萨泽（鲍西娅）代替他履行职责。公爵同意了培拉里奥的请求。在场的人都非常惊奇地端详着这位陌生的年轻人，他身穿律师袍，头戴假发，乔装得很好。

审讯正式开始了。鲍西娅环顾四周，一眼看见了残忍的犹太人。她也看见了巴萨尼奥，但是巴萨尼奥并没有认出化装的鲍西娅。此时，巴萨尼奥就站在安东尼奥身边，因忧伤而一脸苦闷的样子，显然，他正为朋友担心。

鲍西娅从事这项艰巨任务的重要性，给了她这个温柔的女士以勇气，她大胆地承担起律师职责。她先向夏洛克致辞，她说，按照威尼斯的法律他有权索取契约里的那一磅肉。她语气和蔼地说到慈悲的诸多高尚品质，她说：慈悲就像从天而降的甘霖；慈悲是双倍地赐福于人，既赐福于施予者，又赐福于受施者；慈悲是比他们加冕的国王还高贵的君主，它是上帝本身的德行，俗世的力量按照慈悲所调和的公正而接近于上帝的力量。除了铁石心肠的夏洛克，她的话打动了在场的每一个人。接着，她让夏洛克想一想，我们所有人都向上帝祈求仁慈，难道不应该按照上帝仁慈的指引，显示出我们的仁爱之心吗？然而，夏洛克给她的回答仍只是希望法律照约处罚。

“莫非是安东尼奥没有能力偿还贷款吗？”鲍西娅问。

巴萨尼奥立刻向那犹太人承诺，他愿意按照犹太人的意愿加倍偿还那3000块钱。夏洛克拒绝了，他仍然坚持要一磅安东尼奥身上的肉。无奈之下，巴萨尼奥恳请年轻博学的律师尽可能将法律稍作变通，以挽救安东尼奥的性命。但鲍西娅严肃地回答，法律一旦制定就决不允许更改。夏洛克一听鲍西娅说到法律不可更改，觉得鲍西娅似乎倾向于他这一边，在按他的意愿辩护，于是高声赞美鲍西娅道：

“请正直的法官裁决！啊，年轻博学的法官，我是多么崇敬你！你的才能比你的模样看上去要老练得多！”

接下来，鲍西娅提出，希望夏洛克让她看一眼那张契约。她读完那纸契约，说：“这契约成立。按照契约，这位犹太人完全可以合法地要求得到一磅肉，哪怕是割下离安东尼奥心脏最近的一磅肉。”不过，她转过身来对夏洛克说，“发发慈悲吧，把钱拿去，让我撕了这契约。”

但是残忍的夏洛克偏不肯显示他的仁慈。他说，“凭我的灵魂起誓，谁也别想用他的口舌改变我的决心。”

“那么好，安东尼奥，”鲍西娅说，“你就准备他把刀扎进你的胸膛吧。”当夏洛克正兴奋地磨着一把长长的刀子，急于割下安东尼奥的那磅肉时，鲍西娅对安东尼奥说，“你还有什么要说的吗？”

安东尼奥一副听天由命的样子，回答说，他没有什么可说的了，因为已经准备好了去死。然后他对巴萨尼奥说：

“把手给我，巴萨尼奥！再会吧！别为我的不幸悲伤。替我问候你的夫人，告诉她我是多么爱你！”

巴萨尼奥怀着深深的痛苦说：“安东尼奥，我娶了一个妻子，我爱她就像爱我自己的生命一样，但是，我的生命，我的妻子，以及整个世界，都抵不上你的生命在我心中的分量。我愿意放弃我的一切，我愿意为面前的这个魔鬼献出一切，而把你解救出来。”

鲍西娅听到这里，尽管这位善良的夫人一点也没有受到丈夫的冒犯，他用这些话表达的爱理应属于像安东尼奥这样的朋友，可她还是忍不住说道：

“如果尊夫人在场听到你的这番话，她怕是不会感谢你吧。”

葛莱西安诺很喜欢效仿他的主人，他认为，他也应该像巴萨尼奥那样说几句话，于是，娜莉莎便听到了葛莱西安诺的声音。此时娜莉莎正以书记员的身份坐在鲍西娅身边作记录。葛莱西安诺说：

“我有一位妻子，我发誓爱她。但如果她因此可以祈求上帝改变这个残忍的犹太人的狼心狗肺的话，我希望她已归天。”

“还好，你是在背后说出这句话来，否则府上非闹翻天不可。”娜莉莎说。

夏洛克不耐烦地喊道：“这是在浪费时间！我请求马上宣布判决。”

此时，所有人都恐惧地等候着法庭的宣判，每一颗心都充满了对安东尼奥的悲悯。

鲍西娅首先问，称肉的称是否已经准备好了。接着她对那犹太人说：“夏洛特，你需要请几个外科医生帮忙，免得他会流血而死。”

夏洛克巴不得安东尼奥因流血而死，便说，“契约上没有这一条。”

鲍西娅问：“契约上没有这一条？那又有什么关系呢？我劝你最好还是发发善心。”

夏洛克回答：“我没找到，契约上根本没写。”

“那么好，”鲍西娅说，“一磅安东尼奥的肉是你的。法律承认它，法庭现在将它判给你。你可以把这肉从安东尼奥的胸膛割下来了。法律承认它，法庭现在将它判给你。”

夏洛克再一次叫道：“啊，一个聪明公正的法官！请正直的法官快点裁决吧！”他再一次磨了磨他那长长的刀子，虎视眈眈地看着安东尼奥，说：“来，准备吧！”

“且慢，犹太人，”鲍西娅说，“有件事情需要说在前面。这契约并没有判给你一滴血，这上面明明白白地写着‘一磅肉’。如果在割这磅肉的过程中你让一滴基督徒的血流出来，按照法律，你的田产和财富都将被没收归于威尼斯国家所有。”要夏洛克割下那磅肉而不使安东尼奥淌一滴血，那是完全不可能的事，但契约上明明指定的是肉，而不是血。鲍西娅的这个聪明的发现救了安东尼奥的命。在场的人都叹服年轻律师令人惊奇的智慧，她居然想出这种恰当的权宜之计。法庭里到处回响起喝彩声。葛莱西安诺用夏洛克方才说过的话喊道： “啊，一个聪明正直的法官！记住，犹太人，请正直的法官裁决吧！”

夏洛克发现阴谋不能得逞，神情沮丧地说，他愿意拿走偿还的钱。就这样，安东尼奥出人意料地得到了释放。巴萨尼奥兴奋不已，他喊道： “把钱拿去吧！”但是鲍西娅阻止了巴萨尼奥，她说：“别急，这位犹太人除了得到对安东尼奥的处罚，什么也拿不走。犹大人，还是动手吧，割下那磅肉。但是要小心别让血流出来，而且割下来的肉既不能比契约上指定的多一点，也不能少一点，如果做不到，哪怕相差一根头发丝的重量，威尼斯的法律将宣判你的死罪，而且你所有的财产都得没收充公。”“把我的本钱给我，让我走好了，”夏洛克说。“早就给你准备好了，拿去吧。”巴萨尼奥又说。

夏洛克正要拿钱，鲍西娅阻止了他，说：“等一下，犹太人。我还掌握了你一些别的犯罪事实。因为你阴谋危害公民的生命，按照威尼斯的法律，你的财产需没收充公，而且你是死是活需听凭公爵处置。现在，你还是跪下来，求公爵开恩吧。”

公爵于是对夏洛克说：“那么，我就让你看看我们基督徒的心灵与你有什么不一样。在你向我求饶之前，我已决定饶你不死。但是，你的一半财产将归于安东尼奥，另一半财产归国家所有。”

慷慨大度的安东尼奥说，他愿意放弃占有夏洛克的财产，如果夏洛克愿意签一份契约，在他死后将这部分财产给予他的女儿和女婿的话。据安东尼奥所知，这个犹太人唯一的女儿最近因为违背父愿，嫁给了一个年轻的基督教徒，那个年轻人名叫洛伦佐，是安东尼奥的朋友，这件事情让夏洛克很不高兴，他已经取消了他女儿的继承权。

夏洛克同意签约，他深为自己复仇的失败以及被剥夺了财产而伤感。他说：“我不大舒服，让我回家去吧。文书写好后送给我，我愿意在上面签字，把我的一半财产给我的女儿。”

“好，你先去吧，”公爵说，“回头把文书签了。如果你能忏悔过错，信奉基督，国家将会把另一半原属于你的财产归还给你。”

公爵释放了安东尼奥，同时宣布法庭解散。他高度赞扬了年轻律师的聪慧才智，并邀请律师去他府上吃饭。

鲍西娅想赶在她丈夫之前回到贝尔蒙特，便回答说：“我非常感谢您的好意，但是请原谅，我必须马上赶回去。”

公爵为他不能留下来与他一同进餐而遗憾，他转向安东尼奥说，“你要好好报答这位先生。依我看，你今天可多亏了他。”

公爵和元老院议员们离开了法庭。巴萨尼奥对鲍西娅说：“最最可敬的先生，多亏您的智慧，我和我的朋友安东尼奥才免去了令人痛苦的惩罚，我请求您收下这笔原想付给那犹太人的3000块钱。”

“我们对您永远感恩不尽，”安东尼奥说，“我们爱您，愿意终身为您效劳。”

鲍西娅不肯接受那笔钱。但是迫于巴萨尼奥的一再坚持，她说：

“不如将您的手套送给我好了，为了您的缘故我愿意戴着它们留个纪念。”于是巴萨尼奥摘下他的手套。这时，鲍西娅看见了巴萨尼奥手上的戒指，那正是她送给他的那枚。原本这位机灵的夫人就是想要那只戒指，好再见到巴萨尼奥的时候跟他开个玩笑。因此，她才向他要手套。她指着他手上的戒指说，“既然您爱我，我愿意将您手上的这枚戒指也带走。”

这可苦了巴萨尼奥，因为律师要的是他身上唯一一件不能与他分开的东西。他语无伦次地回答，他不能给他这枚戒指，因为那是他妻子的礼物，他已经答应过她，永远也不失去这戒指。但是，他表示愿意在威尼斯寻找一枚最昂贵的戒指送给他。

鲍西娅假装受到了冒犯，当他离开法院的时候，说：“先生，您让我明白了一个乞丐应该得到怎样的回报。”

“亲爱的巴萨尼奥，”安东尼奥说，“请把戒指给他吧。看在你我的交情和他的功劳的分上，即便惹恼了你妻子也是值得的。”巴萨尼奥为自己不懂得知恩图报而羞愧，他听从了安东尼奥的劝说，派葛莱西安诺带上戒指去追鲍西娅。接下来“书记员”娜莉莎（她也送过葛莱西安诺一枚戒指）也向葛莱西安诺讨要他的戒指，葛莱西安诺不想表现得比主人小气，便把戒指给了她。两位夫人想到丈夫回家后，她们可以怎样责备他们，还要声讨说，他们一定是将戒指作为礼物送给了别的女人，就大笑了起来。

在回家的路上，鲍西娅心情格外高兴，一个人做了好事，心情总是畅快的。她快乐地欣赏着见到的每一件事物：月亮似乎从来没有这么亮过，当月亮隐入云朵的背后，她看见灯火从贝尔蒙特的家中远远地照过来，这令她越发欣喜，她对娜莉莎说：

“我们看见的灯火，正是点亮在厅堂里的蜡烛。那一枝小小的蜡烛竟把它的光亮投射得这么远！正是这样的光亮给混沌的世界带来了光明。”随后她听见她的房子里传出美妙的音乐，她说，“我觉得这音乐比白天的好听多了。”

鲍西娅和娜莉莎走进屋，更换好衣裳，各自等待丈夫的归来。不久，他们的丈夫领着安东尼奥回来了。巴萨尼奥向鲍西娅夫人引见了他亲爱的朋友，鲍西娅热情问候并欢迎他朋友的到来。就在这时，他们听见娜莉莎跟她丈夫在一边吵了起来。

“吵架了？”鲍西娅问。“你们两个怎么了？”

葛莱西安诺回答，“夫人，是这么回事，娜莉莎送给我一枚不值钱的镀金戒指，上面还有几句话，类似刀匠在刀上刻的诗句：‘爱我，永不相弃’。”

“可你忘了这诗句或者说那枚戒指意味着什么。”娜莉莎说，“当我把它送给你的时候，你向我发誓，你要戴着它直到死的那一刻。而现在，你说你把它给了律师的书记员。我敢说，你准是把它送给了什么女人。”

“凭我的手起誓，”葛莱西安诺回答，“我的确把它送给了一位年轻人，一个不错的男孩，长得有点矮，还不如你高。他给年轻律师做书记员，那律师用聪明的辩护救了安东尼奥。那男孩唠唠叨叨地向我要那枚戒指当小费，我无论如何也不能拒绝他。”

鲍西娅说：“葛莱西安诺，这就是你的不是了，因为你失去了你妻子的第一件礼物。我也送过我丈夫巴萨尼奥一枚戒指，我相信他无论如何都不会把它送给别人的。”

葛莱西安诺为他的过错找借口，他马上说道，“正是我的主人巴萨尼奥把他的戒指送给了律师，那男孩，他的书记员，才以记录的辛苦为由，向我讨要了我的戒指。”

鲍西娅听到此，装出非常生气的样子，责备巴萨尼奥失去了她的戒指。她说，娜莉莎的话已经让她懂得了什么是信任，她敢肯定准是某个女人得到了这戒指。巴萨尼奥因为得罪了妻子，十分难过，他发自内心地说：

“不，凭我的名誉起誓，不是哪个女人把它拿去了，而是一位知书达礼的博士，他拒绝我的3000块钱而向我要下那枚戒指，当时我不同意，他就不高兴地走了。我能怎么办呢，亲爱的鲍西娅？我为自己不懂知恩图报而羞愧难当，不得已才追上他把戒指给了他。原谅我，亲爱的，要是你当时在场，我想你也会跟我要了这戒指送给那可敬的博士。”

“唉！”安东尼奥说，“你们不愉快的争吵都是我引起的。”

鲍西娅叫安东尼奥不用为此难过，这跟他没关系，他本人还是非常受欢迎的。而安东尼奥说：

“为了巴萨尼奥的幸福，我曾经用自己的身体向人作抵押，要不是多亏了把您丈夫的戒指拿去的那个人，我此时怕是早就不在人世了；现在，我敢再立一张契约，用我的灵魂担保，保证您的丈夫绝不会再失信于您。”

“那么就请您当他的保证人，”鲍西娅说，“给他这枚戒指，让他保存得比那一枚牢一点。”

巴萨尼奥看着戒指，惊讶地发现，它跟被他送掉的那枚戒指完全一样。于是，鲍西娅给他讲了自己怎样成为那个年轻的律师，而娜莉莎又是如何成为她的书记员的。巴萨尼奥有说不出的惊奇和高兴，他这才恍然大悟，原来正是妻子凭着勇敢和智慧，挽救了安东尼奥的性命。

鲍西娅再一次欢迎安东尼奥，并把一封碰巧落到她手上的信交给他，信的内容大致说，安东尼奥原本认为已损失了的船只，现在已经安全进港了。这位富有的商人，在接踵而至的意外的好运中，故事的悲剧开端全都被抛到了九霄云外。两位夫人兴高采烈地谈论起有关戒指的有趣冒险，而她们的丈夫居然没把她们给认出来，她们为此快乐地把自己的丈夫嘲弄了一顿。末了，葛莱西安诺高兴地用两句顺口溜打趣地说：

今生什么也不怕，

就怕丢了戒指娇妻骂。

辛白林

在罗马皇帝奥古斯都·恺撒执政时期，被罗马统治的英格兰（当时称不列颠）有一位国王，名叫辛白林。

辛白林的第一任妻子在她的三个孩子们（两个儿子，一个女儿）很小的时候就去世了。伊莫金是三个孩子中的老大，她是在父亲的宫殿里长大的；而辛白林的两个儿子在一次偶然发生的奇怪事件中，被人从他们的育儿室里偷走了，当时那个大的只有三岁，小的还是个婴儿。辛白林从来就不知道他们遭遇了什么，或者说他们是被什么人偷走的。

辛白林经历了两次婚姻。第二任妻子是个邪恶而诡计多端的女人，同时也是第一任妻子的女儿伊莫金的残酷继母。

王后虽然憎恨伊莫金，却希望伊莫金嫁给她自己跟前夫（因为她也经历了两次婚姻）所生的儿子，她希望通过这种办法，使辛白林在死后把英格兰王位传给她儿子克劳顿。因为她知道，假如国王找不到他的儿子们，公主伊莫金就是国王的继承人。但是她的这个图谋在伊莫金那儿受到了阻力，原因是，伊莫金在没有征得父王的同意，甚至在她父王不知情的情况下，私订了终身。

波塞摩斯（这就是伊莫金丈夫的名字）是他同龄人当中最有学问和最有造诣的绅士。他父亲死于战争，在他出生后不久，母亲也因为失去丈夫而悲伤至死。

辛白林很同情这个无依无靠的孤儿，他收养了波塞摩斯（辛白林给他起了这个名字，因为他是在他父亲死后出生的），让他在自己的宫殿里接受教育。

伊莫金和波塞摩斯一起读书，两人从幼年起就是最好的玩伴。当他们还是小孩子的时候就彼此相爱了，两人的感情随着年龄的增长而加深，长大后便秘密地结了婚。

因为王后一直派人监视伊莫金，不久，王后知道了这个秘密，失望的王后立即把伊莫金和波塞摩斯结婚的事报告给了国王。

国王听说公主竟这样不顾自己尊贵的身份，下嫁给一位臣民，没有什么比这更令他愤怒的了。他命令波塞摩斯离开不列颠，从他的领地上永远驱逐出去。

波塞摩斯选择了罗马作为自己流放时的居住地。在波塞摩斯起程去罗马之前，王后假装同情伊莫金因失去丈夫而忍受的悲伤，提出让她跟丈夫私下见上一面。她这种表面上的关心，无非是想谋划让儿子克劳顿有个更好的未来，她打算在波塞摩斯走后劝说伊莫金：她的未经国王同意的婚姻是不合法的。

伊莫金跟波塞摩斯依依惜别。伊莫金送给丈夫一枚钻戒，那是她母亲留给她的，波塞摩斯答应永远不离开这枚戒指；与此同此，波塞摩斯将一只手镯戴在妻子腕上，请她精心保管好，作为他爱情的信物。然后二人依依惜别，发誓彼此永远忠诚相爱。

就这样，伊莫金孤独而沮丧地留在她父亲的宫殿里，而波塞摩斯去了他选择为流放地的罗马。

在罗马，波塞摩斯结识了一群来自不同国家的公子哥儿，他们很随便地谈论女人，每个人都夸耀自己国家的女人和他们自己的情人。波塞摩斯心中已有了自己的公主，他确信妻子，美丽的伊莫金，是这个世界上最纯洁、最聪慧和最忠贞的女人。

在这些绅士们当中，有一位叫伊埃基摩的青年，对英国女人受到比他自己国家的罗马女人更多的赞美感到不服气，他被波塞摩斯高度赞美自己妻子的坚贞所激怒。经过一番争辩，最后波塞摩斯同意了伊埃基摩的建议，那就是：让伊埃基摩去不列颠千方百计获得已婚的伊莫金的爱。他们为此打赌，假如伊埃基摩这个邪恶的企图不成功，他就得输掉一大笔钱；但是，如果伊埃基摩能够得到伊莫金的爱，并说服她将波塞摩斯送她当作爱情信物、希望她好好保存的镯子送给伊埃基摩，那么这场赌将以波塞摩斯输给伊埃基摩一枚钻戒而收场，那钻戒，正是伊莫金跟丈夫分别时赠送的爱情信物。波塞摩斯坚信伊莫金对爱情的忠贞，他想，在检验伊莫金的贞操这件事上他是不会有风险的。

伊埃基摩到了不列颠，以伊莫金朋友的名义，获准进入宫殿，并得到了伊莫金礼貌的欢迎。但是，当他开始向她表白爱慕之情时，她以轻蔑的态度拒绝了他，他很快发现，他那不光彩的图谋不会有成功的希望。

赢赌的愿望使伊埃基摩想出一个战胜波塞摩斯的计谋。为了达到目的，他贿赂了伊莫金的几个侍从，在他们的帮助下，得以进入伊莫金的卧室，藏在一口大木箱里。直等到伊莫金回房休息。伊莫金熟睡后，伊埃基摩从箱子里钻出来，他仔细检查卧室，记下他看见的每样东西，尤其注意到伊莫金脖子上的一颗痣。接着，他轻轻地从她胳膊上撸下手镯，那正是波塞摩斯送给她的。然后，伊埃基摩又回到箱子里。

第二天伊埃基摩迅速动身回到罗马，向波塞摩斯夸耀说，伊莫金已经给了他镯子，并答应让他在她的卧室里过了一夜。接着，伊埃基摩如此这般地讲了一个编造的故事，他说，“她的卧室里悬挂着一幅用丝线和银线编织的画，讲的是傲慢的克莉奥佩特拉和她的安东尼相遇的故事，那是一件非常精美的作品。”

“这倒是真的，”波塞摩斯说，“不过，你很可能是听别人讲的，并非亲眼所见。”

“还有火炉，在卧室南面，”伊埃基摩说，“上面是狄安娜沐浴图。我还从未见过这么生动的画呢。”

“这个，你同样可以从别人那里听来，因为它经常被人谈论。”波塞摩斯说。

伊埃基摩又详细描述了卧室的屋顶，并补充说，“我差点把她的柴架给忘了，那上面有两个白银塑成的眉目传情的小爱神，各自踮起一只脚站着。”接着他拿出手镯，说：“你认识这件东西吗？是她给我的。她从胳膊上将它取下来，我现在还仿佛看见那情景，远胜于礼物价值的她的美妙动作，也浓缩进了这件宝贝上。她把它给了我，并且说，她曾经很看重它。”最后，他详细描述了在伊莫金脖子上发现的那颗痣。

波塞摩斯在疑虑中痛苦地听完了这个巧妙编造的故事，他对伊莫金的愤怒终于爆发了。他把钻戒交给伊埃基摩，因为他已经答应过，如果伊埃基摩从伊莫金那里得到手镯，他就把钻戒输给他。

波塞摩斯怀着满腔愤懑给巴萨尼奥写了一封信。巴萨尼奥是一位英国绅士，他是伊莫金的一个侍从，同时也一直是波塞摩斯忠实的朋友。波塞摩斯在信中告诉他，他得到一个能证明妻子不忠的证据，希望巴萨尼奥能把伊莫金带到威尔士的一个港口——密尔福德港，并在那儿杀了她。与此同时，他也给伊莫金写了一封欺骗的信，信中说，他觉得，如果自己再也见不到她，就不想活了，但他被禁止返回不列颠，否则将被处以死刑，所以他希望伊莫金跟巴萨尼奥去密尔福德港与他见面。伊莫金是个心地善良、没有猜疑心的女人，她爱她的丈夫胜过世间的一切，况且她自己渴望见到他甚于保全自己的性命，于是，在她接到信的当天夜里，就迫不及待地跟巴萨尼奥一起上路了。

当他们就要到达密尔福德港时，巴萨尼奥尽管对波塞摩斯忠心耿耿，却不想在坏事上为他忠实效力，于是他向伊莫金透露了他接到的那个残酷的命令。

这样一来，伊莫金发觉自己并不是去会那个爱着她又为她所爱的丈夫，而是注定要被丈夫害死，不禁陷入了极度痛苦之中。

巴萨尼奥劝她宽心，耐心地等待波塞摩斯发现自己错了并为之悔悟的那一天。

伊莫金不想再回到父亲的宫殿，为了在旅行中更加安全起见，巴萨尼奥建议她穿上男人的衣服，伊莫金同意了他的建议。她打算乔装后去往罗马见丈夫，尽管丈夫那样残忍地对待她，而她却不能忘记对他的爱。

巴萨尼奥不得不回到宫殿，于是，他给伊莫金弄来了一身新衣裳后便离开了她，让她自己去碰运气。在他离开之前，他给了她一小瓶药水，他说，那是王后送给他的包治百病的灵丹妙药。王后憎恨巴萨尼奥，就因为他是伊莫金和波塞摩斯的朋友，当初王后送给他这个药瓶时，以为里面装的是毒药，因为她曾吩咐医师给她弄些毒药来，用她的话说是想在动物身上试试它的效力。

但是，医师识破了她的恶意，不想让她得到真正的毒药，便给了她一瓶麻醉剂，这种药即使被服用也不会有危害，它只能导致一个人酣睡几小时，而表面上给人的感觉像死了一样。巴萨尼奥认为，这种药水是一种上好的补品，他把它送给伊莫金，说如果她在路上发现自己病了，就服下去。接着，他为她的平安快乐祝福、祈祷，希望她尽早从不该有的麻烦中解脱出来。然后，他便离开了她。

上天奇妙地把伊莫金的脚步引领到她的两个弟弟居住的地方。他们在年幼时就被人给偷走了，偷他们的人叫培拉瑞斯，他原是辛白林宫廷里的大臣。当初，因被人诬告叛国，而被驱逐出宫廷。在报复之心驱使下，培拉瑞斯偷走了辛白林的两个儿子，并把他们带到森林中来，他自己就隐居在森林中的一个山洞里。培拉瑞斯偷这两个孩子完全是想报仇，但是他很快便喜欢上了他们，他对他们很体贴，就像对待自己的孩子一样，精心地培育他们。两个孩子转眼长成了俊美少年，他们高贵的灵魂常常引导他们作出不凡之举。因为两个孩子从小就靠打猎生存，给人的感觉机敏、勇敢。他们常常恳求他们的养父，希望允许他们在战争中闯闯。

伊莫金很幸运，刚好就到了年轻人住的山洞。因为她在穿越一片大森林时迷路了，她原打算取道密尔福德，从那里乘船去罗马。她在森林里找不到能买到食物的地方，又累又饿，几乎快要死去了。一个娇弱的女人并不是穿上男人的衣服就能像男人那样在荒芜的森林里游荡，忍受疲劳的。突然，一个山洞出现在眼前，伊莫金便走了进去，希望能在里面找到一些吃的东西。山洞里空空荡荡，但是，当她四处寻找时，竟意外地发现了一些冷盘肉。她太饿了，不等人邀请，便坐下来急切地吃起来。

“唉，”她自然自语说，“做男人的日子真是太乏味了。我快累得不行了！连着两个夜晚我把地当成寝床。多亏我的决心支撑我，要不然我早病了。当巴萨尼奥站在山顶指给我看密尔福德时，感觉它似乎很近啊！”随后她想起丈夫和他那残忍的命令，她不禁悲哀地说：“亲爱的波塞摩斯啊，你是个骗人的家伙！”

伊莫金的两个弟弟跟他们认作父亲的培拉瑞斯一直在森林里打猎，眼下，他们回来了。培拉瑞斯给他们起的名字，一个叫波里多，一个叫凯德华尔，他们那时还不知道自己的身世，以为培拉瑞斯就是他们的父亲。而他们作为王子的真名分别叫古德瑞斯和阿维拉格斯。

培拉瑞斯先走进山洞，他一眼看见伊莫金，便招呼两个年轻人停下来，说：“先别进来。它在吃我们的东西，或者我应说，那是个精灵。”

“怎么了，父亲？”两个年轻人问。

“天哪！洞里有个天使，”培拉瑞斯补充说，“倘若不是天使，便是一位人间美少年。”穿着男人衣服的伊莫金，看上去的确非常俊美。

她听到有人说话，便从洞里走出来，对他们说：“好主人，请别伤害我。在我进入山洞之前，我原本是想乞讨或者买些吃的东西。可事实上我没有偷任何东西，就算我看见满地金子我也不会偷。瞧，这是我付给你们的肉钱，我本想吃完了把钱留在桌子上，为供给我食物的人做完祷告再离开。”

他们非常诚挚地拒绝了她的钱。

“看得出你们在生我的气，”胆小的伊莫金说，“但是先生们，如果你们因为我的过错就杀了我的话，我想让你们知道，假如我刚才不偷吃你们的东西，我可能早就饿死了。”

“你想去哪儿？你叫什么名字？”培拉瑞斯问。

“我叫斐德尔，”伊莫金回答。“我有位亲戚想去意大利，他在密尔福德乘船，我就是要去那儿跟他见面，我又累又饿，不得已才干出这种事。”

“英俊的年轻人，”培拉瑞斯说，“请别把我们当成吝啬鬼，也别因为我们住在这种粗陋的地方，就错估了我们善良的心肠。碰巧天快黑了，在你离开之前，你将得到不错的款待，请你留下来，跟我们共进晚餐。孩子们，快来欢迎这位年轻人吧。”

于是，两个温和的年轻人——她的弟弟们，用各种方式表达了对伊莫金的欢迎，还说他们喜欢她（他们指的是“他”），乐意把他当成兄弟。他们走进洞中（刚才打猎的时候，他们杀死了一只鹿），伊莫金则帮助他们预备晚餐，她的家庭主妇的手艺让他们很开心。尽管贵族出身的女子精通烹调术在当今有些不合常情，但在当时还是讲究的，伊莫金对这种实用的技艺非常在行，如同她的两个弟弟夸奖她的一样，斐德尔正像模像样地切一种根块植物做汤汁，好像朱诺（朱庇特之妻）害病了，斐德尔成了她的营养师。

“听，”波里多对他兄弟说，“他的歌声多像天使！”

两人在一起悄声谈论说，尽管斐德尔笑得那么可爱，但是看得出来，那张可爱的脸上笼罩着忧愁，好像有什么悲伤和难言之隐占据了他的心。

正因为伊莫金身上所具备的文雅品质（或者多半因为血缘关系，尽管他们不知道），才使得她的弟弟们喜爱上她，而她也同样喜爱他们，她想，要不是因为她爱着波塞摩斯，她宁愿跟这两个原始森林里的年轻人老死在山洞里。她愉快地答应跟他们在一起呆几天，直到体力完全恢复，再赶往密尔福德港。

他们把打来的野味吃光了，想出去打更多的野味。斐德尔因为感觉身体不舒服，没有陪他们同去。显然是因为对丈夫的做法感到伤心，加上在森林中东跑西颠，疲惫不堪，她真的生病了。

他们便跟她告别，自己出去打猎去了。三人一路上都在赞美年轻的斐德尔高贵文雅的风度。

伊莫金独自留在山洞里，她想起巴萨尼奥给她的药水，便找出来喝了，不久她就进入了平静的死一般的睡眠中。

培拉瑞斯跟他的“儿子们”打猎归来。波里多第一个走进山洞，他看见斐德尔，以为他睡着了，便脱下他的笨重鞋子。他轻手轻脚地，唯恐把他惊醒。这两个王子出身的野人心里对她是如此这般的真挚体贴。但是他很快发现，任何声音都无法将他唤醒，他断定，斐德尔已经死了。波里多怀着深深的怜爱和惋惜之情哀悼他，好像从幼年时起他们就从来没被分开过似的。

培拉瑞斯建议把他抬进森林，在那儿为他举行葬礼，还要按习俗为他唱庄严的挽歌。

就这样，伊莫金的两个弟弟把她抬到林阴处，轻轻地将她平放在草地上，为她离去的灵魂唱安魂曲，还把树叶和野花覆盖在她身体上。波里多说：

“只要夏天还没结束，而我还生活在森林里，斐德尔，我要每天来为你的坟墓播撒鲜花。苍白的樱草花，那花朵最像你的脸；蓝铃花像你清晰可见的血管；而野蔷薇的叶子，还没有你呼出的气息甜——我要用这些野花覆盖你。而当冬天来临，不再有野花时，那么，就让长绒毛的苔藓为你盖上被子。”

他们为她举行完葬礼，非常悲伤地离开了。

伊莫金被独自留在墓地，过了不长时间，安眠药的药力消失了，她醒了过来，很容易地就把身上覆盖的树叶和野花摇落了，她坐起来，以为自己做了一场梦。她说：

“我记得我是山洞里的留守者和厨师。可我怎么会盖一身野花躺在这儿呢？”

她不知道回山洞的路怎么走，身边又看不见她刚结识的同伴，她相信，这完全是一场梦。

伊莫金再一次踏上疲惫的“朝圣之路”，她希望最终能找到去密尔福德港的路，并从那里乘船去意大利。因为她心里仍然装着的是丈夫波塞摩斯，她打算装扮成侍童去寻找他。

然而，这时候发生了一件大事，对此，伊莫金却一无所知。因为就在这时，一场战争在罗马皇帝奥古斯都·恺撒和英国国王辛白林之间爆发了。此时，一支罗马军队已经登陆，入侵不列颠，他们开进了伊莫金正在穿行的这片森林。波塞摩斯恰好也在这支军队里。

尽管波塞摩斯随罗马军队来到英国，但是他不想站在他们那一边跟自己的同胞打仗，而是打算加入英国军队，为将他流放的国王而战斗。

他仍然相信伊莫金欺骗了他的感情，然而他曾经挚爱过的人死了，而且是他的命令让她死的（巴萨尼奥写信告诉他说，他已经执行了他的命令，伊莫金已经身亡），也使他的心里十分沉痛，他此次回到英国，希望要么战死在战场上，要么被辛白林以从流放地回到英国为由处死。

伊莫金在到达密尔福德之前，不幸落入了罗马军队手中。女扮男装的她，因为风度和举止颇受欢迎，很快就成了罗马将军卢修斯的听差。

眼下，辛白林的军队正前往与敌军交战，当他们进入森林地带，波里多和凯德华尔便加入了国王的军队。两个年轻人急切地投身到英勇的战斗中，尽管他们一点也不知道他们正在为尊贵的父王战斗。老培拉瑞斯也跟随他们一起去打仗。长久以来培拉瑞斯都在为自己给辛白林造成的伤害——偷走他的儿子这件事而忏悔，他年轻时曾经是位勇士，自然高兴有这样的机会能为被他伤害过的国王战斗。

一场大规模的战役在两军之间展开，要不是波塞摩斯和培拉瑞斯以及辛白林的两个儿子特别骁勇善战，英国军队就被罗马军队击败了，辛白林本人也会阵亡。他们救了国王，挽救了他的生命，并彻底扭转战机，使英国军队最终获得了胜利。

战斗结束了，波塞摩斯发现自己没有战死沙场，他向辛白林的军官自首，表示心甘情愿接受从流放中擅自回国所应受的死刑。

伊莫金和他为之效力的将军卢修斯在战斗中被俘，与他们一起成为俘虏的还有伊埃基摩——伊莫金的敌人，他是罗马军队的一名军官。他们被带到辛白林面前。当俘虏们站到国王面前时，波塞摩斯也被带进来接受死刑判决。与此同时，培拉瑞斯、波里多和凯德华尔也来了，他们是来接受国王奖赏的，在战争中，他们凭借自身的勇猛，为国王尽心效力，立下了赫赫战功。巴萨尼奥则作为国王的侍从之一，也来到现场。

所以眼下，站在国王面前的人，有波塞摩斯、伊莫金和她的新主人罗马将军卢修斯；有忠实的仆人巴萨尼奥和不忠实的朋友伊埃基摩；还有辛白林的两个丢失的儿子，以及将他们从小偷走的培拉瑞斯。应该说，该来的都来了，但是此时此刻，每个人都有着不同的愿望和担心。

罗马将军先开口讲话，其余的人都静静地站在国王面前，尽管他们中间许多人的心在怦怦跳动。

伊莫金看见了波塞摩斯，虽然他化妆成了一个农民，可她还是认出了他，但是波塞摩斯却没认出一身男人打扮的伊莫金。伊莫金也认出了伊埃基摩，并且看见他的手指上戴着一枚戒指，她认出那戒指正是她的，但是她至今还不知道他就是她的一切麻烦的制造者。现在，伊莫金是以一个战俘的身份站在她父王面前。

巴萨尼奥认出了伊莫金，因为她身上穿的那身男人衣服正是他给弄到的。“那是我的女主人，”他暗想，“既然她还活着，不管好赖，总可以放心了。”培拉瑞斯也认出了她，他轻声对凯德华尔说：“难道那个死去的男孩儿复活了吗？”

“没有什么比一粒沙子更像另一粒沙子，这个脸庞如蔷薇一样的男孩儿，的确跟死去的斐德尔一模一样。”凯德华尔说。

“那个死去的男孩儿跟这个活着的是同一个人。”波里多说。

“安静点，别出声，”培拉瑞斯说，“假如是他，我相信，他会跟我们打招呼的。”

“但是，我们亲眼看见他死了。”波里多再一次耳语道。

“别说了。”培拉瑞斯回答。

波塞摩斯沉默地等着听那一声死刑宣判，他下定决心不向国王透露，在战场上是他救了国王，他不想让国王因感动而原谅自己。

收留伊莫金作侍童的罗马将军卢修斯首先对国王开口讲话。他是个非常勇敢、高贵的人，他对国王说：

“我听说被您俘虏的人都要被处死，不许用钱赎。我是个罗马人，我将怀着一颗罗马人的心忍受死亡。但是我有一件事恳求您，”说着，他把伊莫金拉到国王面前， “这个男孩儿出生在英国，请让他赎身吧。他是我的侍童，我敢说，从没有哪个主人有过这么好的侍童，他在任何场合都尽职尽责，勤勉敬业，忠诚细心。他没有做过对不起英国的事，尽管他为一个罗马人服务。请您救救他，即使您不想宽恕身边的其他人。”

辛白林仔细看了看眼前的少年，居然没有认出来她就是化装了的女儿伊莫金。但是在他心里似乎有一种声音猛烈地呼唤他说：“这少年的脸孔有点面熟，我好像在什么地方见过。我不知道这是为什么，或者我应该说，活下来吧孩子，我让你活命。如果你还希望我给予别的恩典的话，我将同意你的请求。不错，即使是你要我饶哪位最高贵的战俘的生命，我也会答应你。”

“殿下，我恭敬地谢谢您的恩德。”伊莫金说。

国王的这种承诺，相当于答应了他的任何一个请求，无论什么都可以，就看哪个为她所眷宠的人会成为她的选择对象。

在场的人都专注地倾听着侍童向国王提出的请求。主人卢修斯对他说：

“我不向你乞求我的生命，好孩子，但是我知道你会为我作出这个请求的。”

“不，不，唉！”伊莫金说，“我还有别的事情要做啊，好主人，请您原谅我，您的生命我不能为您请求了。”

罗马将军为侍童的回答感到惊讶。

伊莫金两眼盯着伊埃基摩，心想没有什么比这个请求更重要了，那就是：她要让伊埃基摩老实坦白，他是从哪里得到的那枚戴在他手上的戒指。

辛白林答应了她这个请求，威胁伊埃基摩说，如果他不老实交待是如何得到手上那枚钻戒的，免不了大刑侍候。

于是伊埃基摩承认了他所干的全部坏事，他讲了跟波塞摩斯打赌的事，以及怎样骗得他相信的全部过程，正如前面叙述的那样。

波塞摩斯一听到他夫人清白的证词，心中的难过无以言表，立刻走上前，向辛白林坦白自己命令巴萨尼奥处死公主的罪行，他情绪异常激动，狂野而语无伦次地叫道：

“啊，伊莫金，我的女王，我的命，我的妻！啊，伊莫金，伊莫金，伊莫金！”

伊莫金不忍看着她心爱的丈夫这样痛苦而不露出她的本相，这样一来，波塞摩斯心里有说不出的高兴，他从罪恶和内疚双重压抑中解脱出来，并重新得到了他曾残忍对待过的那位亲爱的夫人的爱。

看见失去的女儿这么奇迹般地失而复得，辛白林同样沉浸在快乐之中。他以父亲的慈爱接她回到从前的住所，不仅免了波塞摩斯的死罪，还答应承认他这个女婿。

趁国王还在兴头上，培拉瑞斯坦白了自己的罪孽。他把波里多和凯德华尔拉到国王面前，告诉国王，他们就是他的两个失踪的儿子，古德瑞斯和阿维拉格斯。

辛白林宽恕了培拉瑞斯，因为他深深懂得，在这个举国欢庆的时刻，惩罚是多么不合时宜。眼下，国王发现女儿还活着，两个失踪的儿子也找到了，而且他亲眼看见他们在战场上勇猛杀敌，这一切都是他意想不到的快乐！

现在到了伊莫金从容地为她的主人——卢修斯履行义务的时候了，在她的请求下，她的父王很高兴地同意赦免卢修斯死罪。后来，通过卢修斯的调停，缔结了罗马与英国之间的和平，两国保持了若干年的互不侵犯。

至于辛白林那位邪恶的王后，整个阴谋的破灭让她感到彻底绝望，同时良心发现，就得病死了，临死前，她看见愚蠢鲁莽的儿子克劳顿倒在一场由他挑起的争斗中。这些悲惨的事我们只不过略提一笔，不让它来妨碍这个故事幸福的结局。让应该得到幸福的人得到幸福，这就足够了。即使是奸诈的伊埃基摩，考虑到他的恶行终未成功，也没加惩罚就将他释放了。

李尔王

英国国王李尔有三个女儿。贡纳莉，是奥尔巴尼公爵之妻；里根，是康沃尔公爵之妻；而康狄莉亚还是位年轻公主，法国国王和勃艮第公爵都是她的求爱者，两人正为了这件事住在李尔的宫殿里。

老国王年纪大了，疲于政务，他决定放弃国家事务，把纵揽朝政的大权交给年富力强的年轻人，以便腾出时间颐养天年，因为，用不了多长时间，死神肯定就会找上门来的。基于这个打算，他把三个女儿叫到跟前，想听听她们亲口说出谁最爱他，然后按她们爱他的程度把国土分给她们，作为她们对他的爱的回报。

大女儿贡纳莉说，她对父亲的爱无以言表，她爱父亲胜过爱自己的眼睛、生命和自由，道出一长串，但那样大量的表白言过其实，不是真的爱，在这种情况下，仅是几个漂亮词语被信誓旦旦端出来罢了。国王很高兴听她亲口道出爱的誓言，他确实认为贡纳莉是心口一致的，于是以父亲的慈爱把富饶的王国分给了她和她丈夫三分之一。

接着国王召唤他的第二个女儿，想听听二女儿怎么说。里根跟她姐姐一样虚伪，表白得也一点儿不比姐姐差，不仅如此，她宣称，姐姐所表达的还不足以承载她对陛下的爱。就程度而言，她发现世间其他一切快乐，都不及她爱自己的父亲而感到的快乐。

李尔为自己有这样可爱的孩子而欣慰。在里根慷慨许下诺言后，国王又将三分之一的疆土分给了二女儿和丈夫，面积跟贡纳莉的一样多。

然后他转向小女儿康狄莉亚，唤她宝贝儿，问她可有些什么话要说。他满以为，康狄莉亚会像姐姐们已经表达的那样，以同样的爱戴愉悦他的耳朵，或者她的话比她们的更动听，因为她一直是他最宠爱的孩子，他对她比对另外两个女儿中的任何一个都好。但是康狄莉亚讨厌姐姐们对父亲的阿谀奉承，她深知，她的姐姐们心里想的跟嘴上说的相去甚远，而且她发现她们那些哄人的话，不过成心想骗父王放弃国王统治权，这样，她们和她们的丈夫便可以取而代之。想到此，康狄莉亚除了这样回答没有别的——她说，她将照着女儿的本分去爱国王，既不比别人多，也不比别人少。

国王为所宠爱的孩子抱有这种不懂知恩图报的态度而震惊，他希望她重新考虑一下再说，免得毁了她的一生。

于是，康狄莉亚告诉父王，是父亲生养了她，抚育了她，并且从小到大一直厚爱着她，她回报父亲恩德的最恰当的方式，就是顺从他，爱他，敬重他。但她不想像姐姐们那样说一大堆好听的话，或者允诺说，您是这个世界上唯一的爱。如果照她们的话说，除了父亲她们什么也不爱，那么她们为什么要嫁给她们的丈夫呢？如果她有一天结了婚，丈夫会分去她一半的爱、一半的照料和责任，那么她宁愿永远不像姐姐们那样去嫁人，而是把全部的爱都给予父亲。

康狄莉亚的回答的确有点不尽人意。事实上，康狄莉亚真心爱着她的老父亲，几乎像她姐姐们假装得那样深挚，如果换个时候，没有这些附加条件的话，她会以女儿式的温情和爱，平静地告诉他她有多么爱他。但是，在她的两个姐姐说了那些讨好人的假话之后，她发现她们得到了如此丰厚的奖赏，她想她对父亲能做的最慷慨的事情，就是默默地爱。她把对父亲的爱置于唯利是图的目的之外，只想表达爱，而不去想因此能得到什么。她所说的话不像她们那样动听，却比她们说的更真心、更诚挚。

她这种一向令李尔自豪的坦率的说话方式，现在却让老国王感到非常生气。每当老国王愤怒的时候，他总会大发脾气，并且作出草率的决定。眼下，年老昏聩遮蔽了他的智慧，他已不能区分什么是真心实意，什么是阿谀奉承，也听不出哪些话是真正发自内心的，因此，在怨恨的狂怒中，他收回了手中保留的第三份疆土，那本来是他留给康狄莉亚的，现在他把它从康狄莉亚那儿拿走了，平分给另两个女儿和她们的丈夫——奥尔巴尼公爵和康沃尔公爵，他把他们叫到跟前，当着所有朝臣的面赐给他们一顶小皇冠，以示授予了他们共同掌握国家的权力，包括税收和处理各项事务，而他自己只保留作为国王的名分，摆脱了一切国王的职权。他只提了一个条件，他将保留100名骑士作为他的侍从，而他自己每月将由女儿们轮流供养。

国王如此荒谬地处置了他的王国，没有理性的指引，有的只是头脑发热，他的决定令朝臣们又惊讶又悲哀，可他们当中没有一个人有勇气提出疑意，只有肯特伯爵一个人站出来为康狄莉亚讲情，但是脾气暴躁的李尔以违逆者以死论处为由，命令他住口。好心的凯特没有退缩，他一向对李尔忠心耿耿，敬重他，爱他，追随他，当敌人威胁到主子的生命时，他从不把自己的生命看得更重，为了主子的安全，他也从来不怕丢掉性命，即便现在他也不是国王的敌人，他这个最忠实的仆人只是忘了那些老规矩，他勇敢地反对李尔的做法。他的失礼，只是因为感觉李尔疯了。肯特一直是国王最忠实的谏臣，他恳求国王再听他一次忠告，就像在许多重大事情上那样，在仔细考虑后，收回这个可怕的不计后果的决定，他愿意用他的生命担保，李尔的小女儿绝不会对他不孝顺，她只是个不喜欢说大话、说空话的人，但那不等于说她的心里没装着父亲。当有权位的人向谄媚者低头，尽忠守职的臣僚就不敢说真话了。对于李尔的恫吓，肯特还能做什么呢？他的生命在李尔的掌握之中，李尔却不能阻止他以进谏来行使臣子的职责。

好心的肯特伯爵诚实率直的话语，只能激起国王更大的愤怒，像一个发疯的病人杀了他的医生，却护着自己致命的疾病一样，国王宣布驱逐这个忠实的仆人，给他五天时间去做动身前的准备，假如在第六天令他痛恨的这个人被发现还在英国，就得立即被处死。肯特来跟国王辞行，他说，自从他选择用这样的方式劝谏陛下，他就知道等待他的只有被驱逐这一条路。临走之前，他劝慰康狄莉亚，说神明会保佑她的，因为她心地那么善良，说话那么真诚。同时他希望她的姐姐们夸下的海口能够变成现实。然后他就走了，边走边说，他要到一个新的国家去重走他的老路。

法兰西国王和勃艮第公爵被召唤来，听取李尔对他的小女儿的安排，以便了解他们是否还坚持向康狄莉亚求婚，因为康狄莉亚惹恼了父亲，眼下除了她本人外，她已经一无所有了。勃艮第公爵拒绝了这门亲事，他不想在这样的情况下娶她为妻。而法兰西国王了解康狄莉亚失去父亲的宠爱，不是因为有别的过错，只是她嘴笨，而不像她的姐姐们那样会阿谀奉承，他便拉起这位年轻小姐的手，说她的德行本身就是一笔超越王国疆土的财富，他请康狄莉亚跟姐姐和父亲告别（虽然她的父亲对她不够仁慈），然后跟他去法国，做他本人以及美丽的法兰西的王后，去统治比她的姐姐们所拥有的更加美丽的国土。他还轻蔑地称勃艮第公爵为沼泽之邦的公爵，因为他对这位年轻小姐的爱情，在片刻之间就像水一样统统流走了。

于是康狄莉亚含泪向姐姐们辞行，她恳求她们好好爱父亲，好好履行她们的承诺。姐姐们冷淡地告诉她，她不用对她们指手画脚，她们知道自己该怎么做，让她还是努力侍候好她自己的丈夫吧，因为他将她视为命运施舍给他的东西（她们用嘲笑地口气说）。康狄莉亚怀着沉重的心情走了，她知道姐姐们的诡诈，唯一希望的是父亲在她走后能够得到更好的照顾。

康狄莉亚走后不久，两个姐姐就开始露出了庐山真面目。依照约定，李尔先跟大女儿贡纳莉生活，可是一个月还没期满，老国王就发现了大女儿的承诺与践行之间的差距。这个卑劣的女儿，从父亲手里得到了所得到的一切，甚至是他头上的王冠，而她对老人家保留下来的使自己还像个国王的那点残余的皇家排场也不能忍受了。贡纳莉不想看见国王和他的那些臣子们。她每次一看见父亲，便显出一副愁眉苦脸的样子；老人想要跟她说话，她就假装不舒服或者推脱有事，从他的眼皮底下溜走。很显然，她把年迈的父亲看成是一种负担，而把他的侍从们的薪水看成是多余的开支。贡纳莉不仅自己对国王表现出冷淡，由于有她自己作榜样，（恐怕）还有她的授意，她的仆人们也不把国王放在眼里了，他们或者不服从他的命令，或者假装听不见他说话。李尔察觉到了他女儿行为上的变化，但他也会闭上眼睛装作没看见。因为人们普遍不愿意相信由于自己错误地固执己见所导致的不幸结局。

真正的爱和忠诚受到误解，虚伪的谎言和假仁假义反倒受到欢迎。好心的肯特伯爵的遭遇就是最好的例证。尽管肯特已遭李尔驱逐，一旦在英国被发现就得被处死，但是他还是选择留下来，愿意承担一切后果，他相信国王、他的主人有需要他的时候。在他看来，只要能够尽一个臣子的责任，没有什么事情是下贱的，不值得的。肯特假扮成一个仆人的样子，回到国王身边。这位好心的伯爵把一切高贵和荣耀放在一边，只想一心服侍国王，国王竟然没认出他来。肯特用直白、甚至粗鲁的方式回答问话，这使国王很高兴，这跟油腔滑调的献媚很是不同，看到女儿说话不算数，李尔很有理由对那种献媚感到厌恶。国王收留了肯特，称他为盖阿斯。国王从未想过盖阿斯原来就是从前自己最宠爱的臣子，位高权重的肯特伯爵。

盖阿斯很快找到了表达对主人忠诚和爱的方式。就在那天，贡纳莉的一个管家用无礼的言行对待李尔，给他脸色看，拿话顶撞他，不用说，这管家一定是暗中受了他女主人的指使。盖阿斯不忍心听见和看见管家公然蔑视陛下，他一脚将他踢倒在地，把这个粗鲁的奴才踢进了狗窝里。盖阿斯的忠诚友好，使李尔变得越来越离不开他了。

但是盖阿斯并不是李尔唯一的朋友。

当李尔还有自己的宫殿的时候，身边有过一个小丑。因为当时的国王和一些大人物们都习惯豢养一个小丑，以便在处理完严肃的政务之后寻寻开心。李尔放弃王位后，他的小丑始终跟着他，时时用他幽默的语言让李尔保持一份好心情，尽管他有时也不免揶揄主人轻率地废黜了自己，而把一切都交给了两个女儿。那样的时候，小丑就用几句打油诗数落他女儿：

她们高兴得泪眼汪汪

而他只有伤心地歌唱

一位多么高贵的国王

竟跟小丑们玩起捉迷藏

小丑的肚子里装着大量这种疯话和歌谣，一股脑儿把它们倾倒出来，即使是贡纳莉在场的时候他也不忌讳，他拿许多伤人的嘲弄和尖酸的笑话指桑骂槐，比如说，他把国王比作篱雀，捉虫子把小鸟喂大，直到它们翅膀硬了，反过来把它的头咬下来吃掉，报答它的劳苦。又说，驴子也许知道什么时候马车拖着马走（意思是李尔的女儿应该走在后头，现在却站在了她们父亲的前面）。可李尔不再是李尔，他成了李尔的影子。因为小丑的肆无忌惮，他一次又一次被威胁要挨鞭子。

李尔开始意识到那些冷淡和不受尊敬并不是这个糊涂而又溺爱的父亲所遭遇的全部。贡纳莉冷漠地告诉他，他住在她的宫殿里，坚持养100名骑士有多么不方便，这些骑士没有用处，又花销大，他们只会在她的宫殿里闹事，吃喝玩乐。她恳求他减少骑士的数量，除了跟他年纪相仿的、适合他的老仆人，其他的一个也不留。

起初，李尔有些不相信自己的眼睛和耳朵，以为说出这种不尽人情的话的人，不会是他的女儿。他不相信，女儿从他那里得到一顶王冠，还要想法裁掉他的侍从，不给他本属于他这个年纪的长者最起码的尊重。但是贡纳莉坚持她的不孝顺的要求，老国王终于被激怒了，他称贡纳莉是个可恶的骗子，称她说过的话没有一句是真话。事实上，这100个骑士都是品行端正、懂得礼貌的男子，他们尽职尽责，而从没有过像她说的那样，惹事生非，吃喝玩乐。他命令仆人给他备马，因为他想带他的100名骑士到另一个女儿里根那儿去。他骂贡纳莉是个忘恩负义的东西，一个冷酷无情的魔鬼，比海妖还要可怕。他用不堪入耳的话诅咒大女儿贡纳莉，愿她一辈子都别有孩子，或者如果她有了孩子，她也将会得到轻蔑和羞辱的回报，就像她对自己的父亲所做的那样，让她也尝尝一个忘恩负义的孩子多么让人心痛，不孝是比毒蛇的牙齿还可怕的东西。贡纳莉的丈夫奥尔巴尼担心李尔会怀疑他不尽人情，开始为自己开脱，李尔根本不听他的解释，一怒之下命令手下人备马，他要带着随从一起去女儿里根的住处。李尔这时想到，比起姐姐们，康狄莉亚的错误（如果那是过错的话）多么微不足道。想到此，他流下了辛酸的眼泪。他不禁感到羞愧难当，因为像贡纳莉这样的人居然有这么大的本事，让他这有了一大把年纪的人老泪纵横。

里根和她丈夫正呆在非常豪华的宫殿里。李尔派盖阿斯给里根送去一封信，以便让她做好接待他的准备，他和他的大队人马随后赶到。贡纳莉赶在他前面也给里根送去一封信，责备她父亲的任性和可笑，劝里根不要接受他带去的大队人马。贡纳莉的信使跟盖阿斯同一时间到达里根的宫殿。盖阿斯一眼看见了那个信使，认出那人正是盖阿斯的老对手，以前被他一脚踹倒的那个家伙。盖阿斯不乐意看见他那张脸，怀疑他的到来没有好事，他开始辱骂他，挑斗他打一架，那家伙拒绝了，盖阿斯一阵气愤狠狠地拍他，恶作剧般地给了那坏信使一顿应得的惩罚。这事传到了里根和她丈夫耳朵里，他们命令给盖阿斯戴上枷锁，尽管盖阿斯是国王派来的信使，理应受到最高的礼遇。就这样，国王走进城堡时，最先看见的是他忠实的仆人盖阿斯，在这样屈辱的情形下坐在那里。

对于国王所要受到的礼遇来说这不过是个不好的苗头罢了。接下来更糟的是，当国王打算为此事质问他的女儿女婿时，他被告知，他们因整夜赶路太累了，不能见他。直到最后，当他生气地坚持要去看他们时，他们才前来向他问安，可是跟他们一起进来的还有可恨的贡纳莉，她是来向里根诉苦的，并挑拨妹妹也跟父亲对着干。

这种场景尤其是看见里根挽着贡纳莉的手，老人气急了。他问贡纳莉，看到他这一把花白的胡子，她是不是感到羞愧。里根劝父亲跟贡纳莉回家去，与大女儿和睦地生活，剥减一半侍从，以求得贡纳莉的原谅，因为他老了，缺乏判断力，需要有比他更明白的人管教和引导他。李尔表示，叫他跪下来向自己的女儿乞讨衣食，这太荒谬了。他抗议这种违背常理的依赖，声称决不跟贡纳莉回去，他要跟里根在一起，他和他的一百名骑士就呆在这儿不走了。他说，里根不会忘记他把半个王国都赠送给了她，而且她的眼睛不像她姐姐那么凶，而是温和亲切的。他还说，与其跟贡纳莉回去，任其削减一半侍从，还不如到法国去，跟法国国王讨一份微薄的养老金，因为他娶了他的没有妆奁的小女儿。

他希望里根待他会比在贡纳莉那里好些，但是他错了。好像里根成心想超过她姐姐的不孝似的，她声明，按她的意思留50名骑士侍候他还是太多了，有25名已经足够了。李尔近乎悲伤地转向贡纳莉，说他想跟她回去了，因为50两倍于25这个数，所以，她对他的爱也差不多是里根的两倍。但是贡纳莉自我开脱说，留25名骑士有什么必要呢？10个或是5个不足够了吗？当他需要有人侍候的时候使用她的仆人或者她妹妹的仆人不是一样吗？就这样，两个邪恶的女儿，在残忍地对待他们的老父亲上，好像都要努力超过对方一样。两人竟要一点一点地将他曾经作为国王的尊严和那些侍从全部消除。倒不是说有一个气派的骑士队伍就表明有多么幸福，而是说一个人从国王到乞丐是个多么大的反差，从君临天下，变成孤家寡人，连一个仆人也没有。女儿们的忘恩负义大大超过了他的承受力，她们让可怜的老国王伤透了心。事情到了这一步，两个女儿的双重虐待，让李尔懊恼不已，他悔不该当初那么愚蠢地放弃了王位。他的神志开始有些不正常了，已不知道自己在说什么，但是他发誓要报复这两个忤逆不道的妖妇，要让她们遭到使全世界都震惊的报应。

而他的威胁毫无意义，他虚弱的两臂什么也干不了。夜晚来了，电闪雷响伴着倾盆大雨从天而降。他的女儿们却仍然坚持不肯接纳他的随从，李尔一气之下，招呼仆人备马，说宁愿到外面遭受暴风雨袭击，也不愿呆在两个忘恩负义的女儿可恶的屋檐下。此时，他的两个女儿正在议论，对于顽固不化的人，只好让他们领教自己招致的灾祸。她们说，干脆把他关在门外，就让他在暴雨中受苦去吧。

狂风大作，雷雨交加。老人一路向前，凶猛的风雨也来跟他作对，那势头却不及他女儿们的无情无义。方圆几里的范围内，只有稀疏的几片矮树丛，在黑暗之中承受着雷雨的袭击。李尔漫无目的地走来走去，向风雨雷电挑战。他命令狂风把大地刮到大海里去，或者让大海掀起巨浪把陆地淹没，不要留下任何像人类这样忘恩负义的物种。老国王现在只留下可怜的小丑一个人陪伴着他，小丑不停地用笑话排解他心中的痛苦，他开玩笑说，这是个让人眩晕的夜晚，国王不如回到屋里，求得女儿们祝福好些。他自顾念叨道：

怪只怪他自己有点愚

嗨，又是风来又是雨

怪只怪他自己命不济

老天降雨本来不稀奇

他发誓说夜太冷了，足以冷却一个女人的傲慢。

就这样，小丑心情沮丧地陪着国王。后来，这位曾经非常了不起的君主，被永远忠诚于他的肯特爵士找到了，当然，现在的肯特已经变成了盖阿斯，他一直没离开国王有多远，而国王不知道他就是肯特爵士。肯特说：

“唉，陛下，您在这儿吗？即使喜爱黑夜的怪物也不会喜爱这样的夜晚。可怕的暴风雨把野兽全都赶进了藏身之地。人类的天性又怎能耐得住这样的痛苦和恐惧！”

李尔批评他说，一个身染痼疾的人，对这些小小的不幸早已失去痛感。当心情安逸的时候，肉体才有闲暇体验痛苦，而他心灵里的暴风雨已经掠走了他所有的感觉，只有心脏还在胸口跳动。提起女儿们的不孝，他伤心地说，那就好像手把食物送到嘴里，而嘴却要把手咬下来一样，父母就是送给孩子的手、食物和一切。

好心的盖阿斯一再乞求国王，不该呆在无遮无拦的旷野里，最后总算劝他到一个破败的小屋里御寒，那小屋在一片石楠丛里。小丑先进去，旋即吓得跑了出来，他说他看见里面有一个鬼。随后查看证实了所谓的鬼只不过是个疯乞丐，他爬到这个废弃的小屋里藏身，他在里面说出的疯话吓坏了小丑，这样一个可怜的疯子，要么真是个神经错乱的人，或者假装神经错乱，以轻易骗取好心人的施舍。经常到附近的村庄去乞讨，自称“可怜的汤姆”和“可怜的特里古德”，他们会乞求道：“有谁救救可怜的汤姆吗？”他们用大头针、钉子和迷迭香的树枝把胳膊刺出血来，用这种可怕的行为，边祈求边疯疯癫癫地咒骂，以此打动或吓唬无知的乡下人向他们施舍。眼前这个可怜的家伙就是其中的一个，国王看见他如此凄惨，身上只有一条毯子遮体，他认为此人一定是个父亲，把一切都给了女儿，使自己落到这般田地。因为，在他看来，一个人如果不是生下了忤逆不孝的女儿，就没什么能使他变得这样悲惨。

从他说的那些话里，好心的盖阿斯明显感觉到他精神不大好，怕是他女儿的虐待让他真的疯了。现在，可敬的肯特爵士终于找到了迄今为止最好的为国王尽忠效力的机会。他依靠对国王一直忠心耿耿的仆人们的帮助，在拂晓时分把高贵的主人带到了多佛城堡，那里有他肯特爵士自己的朋友和势力，他把国王托付他们照顾，自己乘船到法国，去了康狄莉亚的宫殿，向她形象描述了她两个姐姐惨无人道的行为。美丽善良的康狄莉亚流下伤心的眼泪，她要去寻找国王，她丈夫同意她乘船去英国，率领军队去征服那两个残忍的女儿和她们的丈夫，恢复老国王的王位。康狄莉亚去了，带着皇家卫队在多佛登陆。

李尔却趁机从肯特委托的看护人那里逃走了，当康狄莉亚的侍从找到他的时候，他正在多佛附近的荒野里游荡，他彻底疯了，样子十分可怜，一个人边走边大声地唱歌，头上戴着用稻草、荨麻和在玉米地里拔的野草编成的皇冠。医生告诉康狄莉亚，尽管她非常想见她的父亲，但是他们父女暂时不宜见面，医生需要给他用草药调理，再经过充分的睡眠之后方可恢复过来。康狄莉亚答应医生，只要治好她父亲的病，她愿意花掉随身携带的金钱和宝石。在医术高明的医生们的帮助下，李尔的病情终于有了好转，不久，他便见到了他的小女儿。

父女相见的情形十分感人。可怜的老国王一方面为看见自己最亲爱的孩子而高兴，另一方面又为那么一点点儿的过错生她的气而感到惭愧。这两种感情跟他还未痊愈的病纠缠在一起，使他时而处在半疯癫状态，记不起自己是在哪里，也不知道温柔地吻了他并跟他谈话的人是谁。他恳求旁观者不要嘲笑他，如果他错将这位夫人当成他的女儿康狄莉亚！然后，人们看见他跪下来请求他的孩子宽恕。而善良的康狄莉亚一直跪在她父亲面前，请求父亲祝福她，她对父亲说，您不能跪，这是我应尽的孝道，因为我是您的孩子，是您真正的孩子康狄莉亚！她吻了父亲，并说，她要吻去她姐姐们对他的冷酷无情，她们竟忍心把善良的老父亲抛弃在寒风里，她们应为此感到羞愧，即使是她的敌人的狗咬伤了自己，在那样的夜晚她也会把那狗留在炉火边，温暖它的身子。她告诉父亲，她从法国赶来就是抱着要帮助他的目的。国王说，康狄莉亚应该忘记过去发生的一切，并原谅这一切，因为他老了，糊涂了，不知道自己都干了什么，就算康狄莉亚不爱他也没有什么不对，但是，她的姐姐们不爱他却是天理难容。康狄莉亚说，她到任何时候都不会不爱自己的父亲，也不会比姐姐们更有理由不爱父亲。

在睡眠和药物的帮助下，在这位孝顺的、爱他的孩子的保护下康狄莉亚和她的医生最终治愈了在另两个女儿的虐待下神经错乱的老国王。那么，现在让我们暂且放下老国王不表，而说说那两个残忍的女儿吧。

两个忘恩负义的妖妇，对她们的老父亲那么无情无义，更别指望她们对自己的丈夫忠诚。不久，她们就慢慢变得厌倦了做妻子的责任和感情，公开地爱上另外的男人，而她们罪恶的爱情对象竟是同一个人。这个人叫埃德蒙，他是葛罗斯特伯爵的小儿子，这个人曾用叛逆行为和邪恶手段夺去了他哥哥埃德加的爵位法定继承权，从而使自己成为现在的葛罗斯特伯爵。这样一个邪恶的人，被同样邪恶的贡纳莉和里根姐妹两个爱上，的确是个再合适不过的对象。事情的结果是，大约就在这个时候，里根的丈夫康沃尔公爵死了，里根马上宣布她要跟葛罗斯特伯爵结婚，这件事引起了她姐姐的嫉妒，因为这个邪恶的伯爵在各种场合，都公开表示过对里根和贡纳莉的爱情。于是，贡纳莉找到了一个用毒药杀死妹妹的办法。就这样，里根被毒死了，但是贡纳莉在实施下毒的时候被人发现，她丈夫奥尔巴尼公爵便把她给关了起来，她跟伯爵的隐私也被丈夫知道了，她又绝望又愤怒，不久就结束了自己的性命。公平的上帝最终惩罚了这两个邪恶的女儿。

人们的目光全都集中在这个事件上，欣赏上帝在她们姐妹俩的死亡上所显示的公平。可就在这时，人们突然转移视线，目睹了同样神秘的力量带给善良的小女儿康狄莉亚夫人的不幸命运，其实，凭她的美德，她似乎应该得到更加幸福的结局才是。但是，一个可怕的事实是，世上的好人未必都能得到好报。贡纳莉和里根的军队在邪恶的葛罗斯特伯爵的率领下，取得了胜利，邪恶的伯爵不想让任何人挡在他和王位之间，他俘虏了康狄莉亚，把她投进监狱，并最终将她处死了。上帝在她还很年轻的时候就把她给接走了，在她彰显她在人世所尽的孝敬的责任之后。康狄莉亚死后没多久，李尔也去世了。

在李尔临死之前，善良的肯特伯爵一直陪伴着他的老主人，从他女儿虐待他开始，直到眼下悲愁得眼看就要倒下去。他试图让李尔明白，那个一直跟着他的名叫盖阿斯的人，就是他肯特。但是此时，李尔神智不清的头脑搞不懂事情怎么会是这样，或者说，他不明白肯特和盖阿斯怎么会是同一个人，肯特觉得已经没有必要在这种情况下再让他费神了。不久，李尔死了。肯特这位对国王一向忠诚的仆人，也因为上了年纪，加上为主人的离去而悲伤不已，不久也随主人进了坟墓。

现在该是上帝如何审判葛罗斯特伯爵的时候了，他的叛逆行为败露了，最终死于跟他哥哥——合法的伯爵埃德加的决斗。而贡纳莉的丈夫，奥尔巴尼公爵，他跟康狄莉亚的死无关，而且他从未怂恿过他的夫人虐待李尔，在李尔死后，他登上了英国国王的宝座，后话就不必在此叙述了。李尔和他的三个女儿死了，他们的经历才是我们所要讲述的故事。

麦克白

在性格温和的苏格兰国王邓肯执政期间，苏格兰有位领主，或者称大乡绅，名叫麦克白。麦克白是国王邓肯的一个亲戚，因为作战勇猛，并具有出色的指挥才能，在宫中备受尊敬，比如最近，他就打败了一支由挪威军队作为强大后盾的叛军。

麦克白和班柯两位苏格兰将军正从战场凯旋。他们一路上在枯萎的石楠丛里穿行。这时，石楠丛里有三个长得酷似女人的怪物拦住了他们的去路。说三个怪物长得像女人，她们却生着胡须，皱巴巴的皮肤，怪异的服饰，使她们看上去一点不像现世中人。麦克白首先开口跟她们打招呼，她们显出不高兴的样子，把手指放在嘴唇上，意思是让他们别出声。她们当中第一个怪物以“葛来密斯爵士”的称谓，向麦克白行礼致敬。麦克白将军吃惊地发现这个怪物认识他。不仅如此，第二个怪物称他“考特爵士”，紧跟着向他行礼。这个荣誉他是无资格享受的。轮到第三个怪物则祝愿他，“万福！未来的国王！”如此预言性的问候令他非常吃惊，他知道，在国王的儿了们活着时，他是不可能寄希望于王位的。三个怪物接着转向班柯，用谜语一样的短句对他说，“你比麦克白低微，却更伟大！不幸运，却更幸福！”又预言说，尽管他从未统治过苏格兰，然而他的儿子们在他之后将成为苏格兰国王。尔后，她们隐没在空气中，消失了。两位将军猜测，她们一定是传说中的女巫。

正当他们站在那里思考这个不可思议的奇遇，从国王那儿来的信使到了，他被派来授予麦克白“考特爵士”的头衔。这件事竟不可思议地跟女巫的预言惊人地吻合，麦克白惊异地站在那儿，老半天想不起来给信使一个答复。此时，他满脑子想的是那第三个预言很可能以同样的方式应验，要真是那样的话，他就必将会在某一天当上苏格兰国王了。

他对班柯说，“你不希望你的孩子成为国王吗？女巫给我的许诺竟这般神奇地应验了。”

班柯将军回答，“有了那样的愿望，就会激发你打王位的主意。不过魔鬼为了让我们去做后果更为严重的事，有时也会在小事上告诉我们一点真话。”

但是女巫邪恶的暗示已深入麦克白的头脑，他全然不把班柯的警告放在心上。从那时起，他把心思全部放在了如何获得苏格兰王位上。

麦克白把神秘女巫的奇怪预言，以及部分已得到应验的事情跟妻子说了。他妻子是个野心勃勃的坏女人，只要丈夫和她自己能成为伟大的人物，她才不管用什么手段呢。她鼓励麦克白不顾一切地去实现这个目标。因为麦克白想到流血，想到谋杀国王将是实现女巫预言不可缺少的一步，不禁良心不安。

就在这个时候，发生了一件事。国王时常想着要用他高贵的皇室荣耀恩泽有功之臣，于是带着两个儿子马尔科姆和道纳本，以及各位爵士、随从一行人等，来到麦克白家里，祝贺他从战场上得胜而归。

麦克白的城堡位置不错，周围空气甜润清爽，燕子在城堡上筑了许多巢，无论墙壁还是梁柱上，都成了它们筑巢的好地方。有那么多鸟儿栖息在城堡上或盘旋在半空中，空气总是好的。国王怀着喜悦心情走进城堡，同样也很高兴地见到女主人麦克白夫人的殷勤和礼貌，她巧妙地以微笑掩饰着叛逆野心，给人的感觉像一朵纯洁的花，而在花下却盘着一条阴险的毒蛇。

由于旅途劳累，国王想早点上床休息，按照习惯，在他房间里安排了两个侍卫。国王为这样周到的款待异常高兴，他在回房休息之前赏了东道主一些礼物，并送给麦克白夫人一颗钻石，以回报女主人的善意。

午夜，半个地球上的生命仿佛都已死去，只有狼和凶手在活动，罪恶的梦境扰乱着他们平和的睡眠。就在这个时候，醒来的麦克白夫人开始密谋杀害国王。身为女人，她本不愿执行这个任务，却又不放心她丈夫优柔寡断的性格，他性格太软弱，做不了谋杀的事。她知道他是个有野心的人，却过于小心谨慎，还没准备好去犯罪，杀人这种恶行得在野心发展到极致才干得出来。她虽然已经说服了麦克白同意谋杀国王，可还是怀疑他的决心，担心他软弱的性情（比她本人心慈手软）让他下不了手。于是，决定由自己持匕首逼近国王的寝床。她小心地绕过国王寝室里的两个侍卫，他们喝多了葡萄酒，这会儿已睡着了，早把侍卫的职责抛到了九霄云外。辛苦的旅途之后，躺在床上的国王邓肯已酣然入睡。她仔细观察他，在他的脸上似乎看出了点什么。她发现，当邓肯睡着的时候，样子特别像她自己的父亲，这样一来她便没有勇气对他下手了。

她回去跟丈夫商量。他的决心开始动摇，觉得理智在强烈地反对他的行为。首先，他不仅是国王的臣子，还是国王的亲戚；其次，他是那天晚宴的主人和款待者，按照待客的规矩，他的责任是关起门来抵御外来的凶手，而不是自己操起刀子。然后，他想到邓肯是一位多么公正仁爱的国王，友善地对待自己的百姓。对贵族，尤其对他也很爱惜。这样的君主，上帝会格外眷顾的，而一旦他死了，臣子们会加倍替他报仇。此外，国王的宠爱已使麦克白享有很高的地位，那么多荣耀，怎么可以用凶手的恶名玷污呢！

在这些思想冲突中，麦克白夫人发现她丈夫已倒向善良一边，已经不想再进一步实施行动了。可她作为一个女人，却难以动摇邪恶念头，她开始向他灌输她自己的一套理论，指责他不该寻找借口从已经采取的行动上退缩。她说，事情多么容易，一会儿工夫就完了，而且短短的一夜之间，这个行动将给他们带来无数个日日夜夜的王权统治！她对丈夫改变主意报以轻蔑的冷笑，责备他反复无常，是个懦夫，胆小鬼。她说她曾经哺乳过婴儿，知道如何给予一个吃奶的婴儿温柔的爱抚，但当婴儿望着她的脸微笑的时候，她也能把孩子从她的胸前推开，一拳将他砸死。只要她曾起誓这么做，正如麦克白已起誓去行凶一样。接着她又说，把这样一个犯罪事实，强加在那两个已经烂醉如泥的侍卫身上，是如何入情入理。她边说边为麦克白打气，责备他行动迟缓。如此这般，令麦克白再一次鼓起勇气去实施血腥的谋杀。

麦克白操起匕首，黑夜之中悄悄溜进邓肯睡觉的房间。正走着他看见空气中有另外一把匕首，正用刀柄指着他，刀刃和刀尖上滴滴哒哒地淌血，但是当他试着抓住它的时候，却什么也抓不到，那不过是他紧张的头脑中产生的幻觉，而他的匕首就握在自己手里。

摆脱了恐惧心理后，麦克白进入国王的卧室，只一刀就干掉了国王。他刚行完凶，睡在屋里的一个侍卫在睡梦中笑出了声，另一个则喊道，“杀人了！”

但是醒来后他们只做了简短的祷告，一个说，“上帝保佑！”另一个应道：“阿门。”说完两人又睡过去了。麦克白站在那儿，听着他们说话，在听到“上帝保佑”之后，也想跟着第二个侍从说“阿门”，但是尽管他在此时最需要上帝保佑，那个词却粘在了他的喉咙里，怎么也发不出声音。

这时，他仿佛听到一个声音叫道：“别睡了！麦克白杀死了睡眠，这清白的睡眠，滋养生命的睡眠。”那声音接着喊，“别睡了！”声音传遍了整个房子。“葛来密斯杀死了睡眠，考特因此再也没有睡眠了，麦克白也没有睡眠了。”

带着这种可怕的想象，他回到正专心听动静的妻子身边。原本麦克白夫人认定他的行动失败了，事情受挫了。他为此精神恍惚。他妻子责备他不够坚定，让他洗一下手上的血，与此同时，她拿上他的匕首，去把血迹抹在侍卫的脸上，以造成他们犯罪的假相。

黎明到来了，随之而来的是被发现的谋杀，这是无法掩盖的事实。尽管麦克白和夫人做出非常悲痛的样子，而且侍卫犯罪的证据（在他们身边发现了匕首，他们的脸上都抹着血）也十分确凿，然而人们的猜疑却全都倾向于麦克白。对于谋杀国王这样的事，人们怀疑麦克白的作案动机，远远比怀疑那两个可怜的侍卫更有说服力。而且，邓肯的两个儿子逃走了，大儿子马尔科姆去英国寻求庇护，小儿子道纳本逃往爱尔兰。

国王的两个儿子本该继承王位，现在却放弃了，麦克白作为最近的王位继承人顺理成章得到加冕，就这样，女巫的预言逐一应验。

尽管麦克白已坐上了国王宝座，但他和王后仍然没忘记女巫的预言，在他之后不是他的儿子们而是班柯的儿子们继承王位。一想到这些，一想到他们粘满血污的手和犯下的滔天罪行，到头来却得将王位让给班柯的子孙，他们就觉得很不甘心。女巫关于麦克白自己那部分的预言已经神奇地应验了，他们决心要将班柯和他的儿子们统统置于死地，让女巫预言的其余部分落空。

为了达到这个目的，他们举办了一场盛大晚宴，把所有大乡绅都请来了，班柯和他的儿子弗里恩斯也得到了特别隆重的邀请。当天夜晚，班柯和儿子在去往宫殿的路上，遭遇了麦克白事先安排埋伏在那里的刺客袭击，班柯被刺中，而混战中弗里恩斯逃了出去。自此，正是弗里恩斯传下的后代接连做了苏格兰的国王，一直延续到苏格兰的杰姆士第六世兼英的杰姆士第一世，在他的统治下，英国跟苏格兰才合并起来。

晚宴上，王后态度文雅，气质高贵，她优雅、体贴、热情地问候晚宴上的每一个客人，使在场的每个人都对她产生了好感；麦克白则随意地跟乡绅和贵族们闲谈，他说，今晚举国的俊杰们齐集一堂，要是他的好朋友班柯在场的话，他宁愿责备他的疏忽，也不愿为他遇到什么不幸而哀伤。就在他说这番话的时候，被谋杀的班柯的鬼魂走进宴会大厅，在麦克白刚打算落座的椅子上坐下来。尽管麦克白是个胆大的人，但是，即使再胆大的人面对鬼魂时也没有不发抖的，他吓得脸色惨白，站在那儿，眼睛盯着鬼魂。王后和所有贵族们什么也看不见，只看见国王凝视着一把空椅子，以为他是一时神经错乱。王后责备国王，对他耳语说，那不过是个幻觉，就跟他谋杀邓肯时看见空气中的匕首一样。但是麦克白还是继续看见鬼魂，对旁人完全不理会，只跟鬼魂说着胡话。他语无伦次，但王后担心可怕的秘密被发现，于是借口国王身体欠安，急忙把客人打发走了。

可怕的幻觉让麦克白饱受痛苦的折磨。国王和王后夜夜都被噩梦困扰着。弗里恩斯的逃走比班柯的死更让他们不安，他们把他看作接下来的一代又一代国王的根。有了这些痛苦的想法，他们的内心从此没有了安宁。麦克白决定再次去寻找神秘的女巫，以便从她们那里了解到最坏的情况。

他在一处山洞里找到了她们。女巫们预知麦克白会来，她们开始忙着准备魔法，用法术揭示麦克白的未来。她们用来施法术的可怕的道具分别是蟾蜍、蝙蝠和毒蛇，蝾螈的眼睛和狗的舌头，蜥蝎的腿和猫头鹰的翅膀，贪婪的海鲨鱼的胃，一具女巫的木乃伊，毒芹根（必须是在黑夜里挖出来的），山羊的胆汁，一个犹太人的肝脏，长在坟墓上的水松枝，死婴的手指。把所有这些东西放在一口大锅里煮沸，让它们快速变热，再加入狒狒的血冷却。接着往这些东西里注入吞吃了自己幼崽的母猪的血，然后把油脂泼到火焰上，那油脂有从杀人犯的绞刑架上收集到的。她们通过这些符咒去捕捉阴间的幽灵，来回答她们的问题。

她们想知道麦克白对她们的做法是否抱有疑虑。

麦克白表示，他对眼前这种恐怖场面并不觉得害怕。他大胆地说：“幽灵在哪呢？让我看看它们。”

她们呼唤幽灵，于是三个幽灵出现了。第一个幽灵现身，貌似一个带盔甲的头，他叫着麦克白的名字，吩咐他要小心费甫爵士。为了这个警告，麦克白感谢了他，因为麦克白已经引起了麦克德夫，也就是费甫爵士的嫉妒。

第二个现身的幽灵貌似一个血淋淋的小孩，他叫着麦克白的名字，让他不要害怕，而要用嘲笑蔑视人类的力量，因为没有一个由女人生下来的人能伤害到他。他建议麦克白做一个残忍、勇敢、坚定的人。

“那么，麦克德夫，只管活下去吧！”国王喊道。“我有什么可担心你的呢？但是要做到万无一失，我还是不让你活着的好，这样，我就可以斥责胆怯的恐惧是虚妄的，即使在雷霆万钧的夜里也可以安然入睡。”

然后这个幽灵消失了，轮到第三个幽灵现身，样子是个头戴王冠的小孩，手持树枝。他叫着麦克白的名字，安慰他不用担心有人会暗算他，除非波南山上的森林因反对他而移到邓西嫩山上，麦克白不会失败。

“不错的预言！太好了！”麦克白喊道。“有谁能把森林拔出来，从束缚它的大地上移走？我看我会颐养天年，决不会暴死而终。但是我却仍然心悸不已，只为了想知道一件事。既然你们能用法术告诉了我这么多，那么请问，班柯的子孙会不会在这片国土上称王？”

他的话音刚落，那口大锅沉入地下，随后有音乐响起，八个像国王模样的鬼魂在麦克白身边走动，班柯的鬼魂跟在最后面，他手持镜子，镜子里映出了更多影像，班柯一身血污朝麦克白微笑，用手指点着那些影像。麦克白知道这些都是班柯的子孙，他们将在他之后统治苏格兰。女巫们开始伴着音乐跳起舞来，以表示她们对麦克白的欢迎，尔后就消失了。从那时起，麦克白心里想的都是些血淋淋的，可怕的事。他从女巫的洞里出来，听到的第一个消息就是麦克德夫、费甫爵士已经逃往英格兰，加入了前国王邓肯的大儿子马尔科姆麾下的军队，打算推翻麦克白，让马尔科姆这个合法的王位继承人成为苏格兰国王。盛怒之下，麦克白袭击了麦克德夫的城堡，杀了他的妻子和孩子，并且杀了他所有的亲族。

这一切以及类似的事件，让一些重臣跟麦克白疏远了，他们中有的人逃到英国，跟马尔科姆和麦克德夫合作，正率领在英格兰组建的大军向苏格兰逼近。其他人则暗中希望他们的军队胜利，尽管他们因为害怕麦克白而不敢离开他。他的新兵招募却发展得很慢，因为人人都憎恨他这个暴君，没有人爱戴他、景仰他，反倒全都怀疑他。他开始羡慕起邓肯来，他杀了他，现在他安静地睡在坟墓里，叛逆者已经对他干了最坏的事，再也没有人能伤害到他了，剑器不能，毒药也不能；国内的纠纷不能，外族的入侵也不能。什么都不可能再伤害到邓肯了。

当一切事情发生的时候，王后是麦克白唯一的同谋。在那些整夜折磨他们的噩梦中，他只能偶尔在她的怀抱里寻找到片刻安宁。眼下，王后死了，估计死于自杀，她大概再也忍受不了忏悔的痛苦和公众的仇恨了。而他孤独地留在世上，没有人爱他、关心他，也没有一个朋友可以听他倾诉自己邪恶的所作所为。

他变得厌世起来，希望早一天死去。而马尔科姆大军的逼近唤起了他血液里保留着的勇敢，他决心“死也要披着铠甲”。除此以外，女巫们虚假的承诺也给了他信心，他回想起那些幽灵们的话语，“没有一个由女人生下来的人能伤害他”，而且他永远也不能被征服，除非波南山的森林移到邓西嫩山上，而这是绝对不可能的事。于是，他把自己关在城堡里，城堡牢不可破，经得起围攻。他在城堡里闷闷不乐地等待马尔科姆的逼近。这一天，一个信使跑来，脸色苍白，浑身颤抖，几乎不能将他所看到的情况报告给麦克白。原来，当他站在哨所上望向波南山，发现那山上的树木开始向邓西嫩这边活动了！

“撒谎的奴才！”麦克白叫道。“如果你说了假话，我就把你吊在旁边那棵树上，活活饿死你。如果你此话当真，我情愿让你把我吊在树上。”麦克白的决心开始动摇，他开始怀疑幽灵模棱两可的话。它们说他用不着担心，除非波南的森林移向邓西嫩山，而眼下，森林果真就在移动了！他说：“如果事实果真如此，我真想披上铠甲冲出去！然而，我既不能插翅而飞，也不能坐以待毙。我讨厌白昼的阳光，希望生命早一点结束。”他一边说着这些沮丧的话，一边冲向已来到城堡的马尔康军队的重围，站在了城堡上。

信使所说的森林移动这种奇怪的现象，其实很容易解释。当围攻的军队穿越波南山森林进军时，马尔科姆似乎是个很懂得战术的将军，他命令士兵们砍下树枝，人手一棵，举在胸前遮掩，用这样的方法隐匿部队的人数。士兵们举着树枝行进，他们远远地走过来，吓坏了报信者。幽灵的话便这样应验了，麦克白受到愚弄，他的信心因此垮下去。

激烈的搏斗开始了。尽管麦克白得到几个自称为朋友的人的微弱支持，但实际上，他们都憎恨这个暴君，而站在马尔科姆和麦克德夫一边，然而搏斗中，愤怒的麦克白仍然表现得极其勇猛，他把向他进攻的人碎尸万断，直到遇到麦克德夫。他看见麦克德夫，便回想起幽灵劝他躲开麦克德夫的警告，他本想掉头，而麦克德夫一直在寻找他，就拦住了他，一场激烈的打斗开始了，麦克德夫边搏斗边用大量难听的话责骂麦克白杀死了他的妻子和孩子。麦克白的灵魂里沾着麦克德夫一家人的血，罪恶使他的斗志衰落下去，而麦克德夫却不停地刺激他与自己交手，他称他为暴君、凶手、地狱里的狗、恶棍。

麦克白想起幽灵的话，“没有一个女人生下的人能伤害他”，于是他欣慰地笑着，对麦克德夫说：

“你不要白费力气了，麦克德夫，你的剑若能伤害我，大概也能划破长空。我的生命是受魔法保护的，凡是从女人胎里出来的，都不能伤害我。”

“去你的魔法吧，”麦克德夫说，“让那些你所信奉的说谎的幽灵告诉你，麦克德夫从来就不是女人所生，从来不像一般人经历的出生那样，而是不足月就从他母亲的肚子里取出来了。”

“让对我讲这种话的舌头受到诅咒吧，”麦克白颤抖地说，他感觉到自己的信心已经垮掉了，“但愿人们将来永远也不要相信女巫和骗人的幽灵那些模棱两可的谎言。他们用极具诱惑力的语言欺骗我们，表面上看句句都应验了，但跟我们所希望的相反。得了，我不想跟你打了。”

“那就饶你不死！”麦克德夫轻蔑地说。“让你游街示众，让你当众出丑，漆上一块木板，上面写上：‘这个人就是暴君’！”

麦克白在绝望中鼓起勇气，说，“我绝不会被那些暴民咒骂，活着亲吻马尔科姆脚下的土地。尽管波南的森林移到了邓西嫩，而你又不肯放过我，你这不是女人生养的，我要尽最后的力量跟你决斗。”

说着，他冲向麦克德夫，经过一阵激烈的搏斗，麦克德夫最终战胜了他，他割下麦克白的首级，当礼物献给年轻而合法的国王马尔科姆。马尔科姆推翻了麦克白利用篡夺者的诡计长期统治的国家政权，在贵族和人民的欢呼中继承了邓肯的王位。

第十二夜

塞巴斯蒂安和妹妹薇奥拉，一位是梅萨林的年轻绅士，一位是梅萨林的小姐，他们是一对双胞胎。令人奇怪的是，兄妹俩打一出生就长得极其相像，要不是他们穿戴得不一样，你简直不知道怎样把他们区分开。他们在同一时间出生，又在同一时间遭遇到毁灭性的危险。因为，在一次航海中，兄妹俩在靠近伊利里亚王国的海域遇到了海难。他们乘坐的船遇到一场突如其来的风暴，同船的人中只有一少部分得以逃生。船长带着几个幸免于难的水手乘坐一只小船登陆，与他们一起上岸的还有侥幸活下来的薇奥拉，这位可怜的小姐丝毫不因自己的幸存感到欣慰，而是一心悲悼失去的哥哥。船长不停地安慰她，说他确信看见了她哥哥，当船撞碎的瞬间，她哥哥把自己拴在一根粗大的桅杆上，他远远地望着他随着海浪沉浮，直到在视野中消失。这种带有侥幸意味的希望，令薇奥拉感到十分慰藉，她谢过船长，想着离家很远，如何才能在外乡安顿下来。她问船长是否了解伊利里亚。 “是的，姑娘，我很熟悉这个地方。”船长回答说，“我的出生地离这里不到三小时的路程。 “谁统治这儿？”薇奥拉问。船长告诉她，统治伊利里亚的人叫奥西诺，是一位名副其实的高贵的公爵。薇奥拉说，她听父亲提起过奥西诺，那时他还没娶亲呢。 “现在他也还没娶亲，”船长补充说，“至少最近没听说他娶亲。不过一个月以前我经过这里时，大家都说，奥西诺正在向美貌的奥丽维亚求爱。你知道，大人物的一举一动，百姓们总会议论纷纷。奥丽维亚是个品德高尚的姑娘，她是一位伯爵的女儿，那伯爵已于一年前去世，临死前把她交给她哥哥照顾，可是她哥哥不久后也死了。人们传说，为了怀念亲爱的哥哥，奥丽维亚发誓不再跟男人来往，也不再跟男人见面了。”薇奥拉同样处在失去兄长的悲伤之中，她真希望自己能跟这位悲悼亡兄的小姐住在一起。她问船长可否把她介绍给奥丽维亚，并说自己非常乐意服侍这位小姐。然而船长回答说，这件事很难办，因为自从她哥哥死后，奥丽维亚不允许任何人进入家门，就连公爵本人也不例外。薇奥拉在心里合计出另外的办法，那就是女扮男装，给奥西诺公爵当个侍童。一个年轻姑娘穿上男装扮成男孩子蒙混过关，这真是个新奇的想法。薇奥拉是个既年轻又有着非凡美貌的姑娘，在孤独无助的异国他乡，她必须要为自己找到一个自我保护的办法。

薇奥拉看出船长是个好人，而且他对她的处境表示出善意的关怀，于是她把自己的意图托付给船长，船长欣然同意帮她的忙。于是，薇奥拉给了船长一些钱，让他去为她置备一套合适的服装，颜色和式样要跟她哥哥塞巴斯蒂安贯常穿的衣服一模一样。当她穿上男式衣裳，看上去像极了她哥哥，后来由于他们被认错，引起了一些离奇的误会，因为从下文可以看到，塞巴斯蒂安找到了。

薇奥拉的好朋友（船长）把这位漂亮的姑娘打扮成男子后，就通过宫廷里的熟人，把她推荐给奥西诺公爵，改名叫西萨里奥。公爵对这位能言善辩、举止优雅的英俊少年十分满意，他让西萨里奥做他的侍童，这正是薇奥拉求之不得的差事。她在她的新职位上很好地履行职责，对主人表现得忠诚守信，因此很快成为公爵最宠幸的人。奥西诺公爵毫无保留地向西萨里奥倾吐他对奥丽维亚小姐的爱恋。他对他讲述自己内心的渴望和不成功的求爱，奥丽维亚如何拒绝与他来往，她简直就瞧不起他，也不准他去拜访。为了这位不近人情的小姐，公爵放弃了狩猎和一切男子们通常喜欢做的事情，懒散地打发宝贵的时光，他只想听缠绵悱恻的乐曲和柔情四溢的情歌，荒疏了与朋友和臣子们的交往，整天只渴望跟年轻的西萨里奥交谈，连那些失意的奉承者也不怀疑，只有西萨里奥才最适宜他们高贵的主人奥西诺公爵。

年轻美貌的女子成为年轻英俊的公爵的知心朋友，本是一件危验的事情。薇奥拉很快发觉，当奥西诺对她讲述如何忍受着奥丽维亚带给他的痛苦时，事实上，她自己也正处在爱恋奥西诺的痛苦之中，她奇怪奥丽维亚怎么可以这样不把出类拔萃的奥西诺公爵放在眼里，在她看来，像他这样的人没有谁会不深情地礼赞。她曾大胆而又谨慎地向奥西诺发出暗示，令人遗憾的是，奥西诺整个心思都在那个对他视而不见的姑娘身上。她问他：

“殿下，假如有一位姑娘——也许真就有这么个人儿，像你爱奥丽维亚那样痛苦地爱上了你，而你却不能反过来爱她，还要坦白告诉她你不能爱她，那么，她不是一样得到了令人失望的答复吗？”

但是奥西诺不赞成这样的推理，因为他不认为任何女人有他那样强烈的爱。他说，女人的心脏不足以承载像他这样多、这样深沉的爱，因此拿任何女人的爱与他对奥丽维亚的爱相比都是不合适的。尽管薇奥拉极其尊重公爵的意见，但是她不认为他的话绝对正确，因为她知道，她心中就装满了与奥西诺一样多的爱。她说：

“啊，公爵，可是我知道。”

“你知道什么？西萨里奥。”

薇奥拉回答：“关于女人对男人的爱，我知道得太多了。她们是跟我们一样真心的。我父亲有个女儿爱上了一个男人，正如假设我是一个女人，也许会爱上殿下您一样。”

“她的经历怎样？”奥西诺问。

“一片空白，殿下，”薇奥拉回答，“她从来没有表白过她的爱情，而是把爱深藏在心底，爱像花蕾里的蛀虫，蚕食她绯红的脸颊。她因相思而憔悴，脸儿苍白，神情忧郁，像刻着‘忍耐’二字的墓碑，默默坐着，对悲哀微笑。”

公爵询问这个姑娘是否已殉情而死。对于这个问题，薇奥拉没有明确回答，因为大概她编造这个故事，说这些话的目的，只是想暗示她对奥西诺的爱以及为此而承受的痛苦。

正当二人交谈的时候，一位侍臣走进来，他是公爵派去拜访奥丽维亚的人。侍臣说：“启禀殿下，那姑娘不准许我见她，她只通过女佣给您带个口信，说除非再过七个寒暑，否则就算苍天也不能见到她的容颜。她要像修女一样蒙着面纱而行，用泪水冲洗她的居室，这一切都是为了悲哀地纪念她死去的兄长。”

听到这个消息，公爵不禁长叹：“唉！她有一颗多么美好的心哪，她对一位死去的哥哥竟然爱到如此地步，假如爱神的金箭射中她的芳心，那她将怎样爱恋着她的爱人啊！”

奥西诺对薇奥拉说：“西萨里奥，你知道，我已经告诉了你我内心的全部秘密。因此，好孩子，我派你到奥丽维亚家去。别让人家把你拒之门外，你就站在她的门口对她说，你要站到脚下生根，直到她肯见你为止。”

“殿下，假如我真能跟她见上面、说上话，那又怎样呢？”薇奥拉问。

奥西诺回答：“啊，你就向她转达我对她的热恋之情。把我对她的一片诚挚从头到尾讲给她听。你表演起我的伤心来一定很出色，像你这样的青年肯定比那些脸孔刻板的人更能引起她的注意。”

就这样，薇奥拉去了。不过，她颇不情愿担当这个求爱的差事，因为她是在恳求一位小姐做她自己想嫁的人的妻子。而她一旦许诺下来，就得忠实地履行职责。奥丽维亚很快听说有个年轻人站在她门外，坚持要见她。

仆人禀报说：“我告诉他，说您身体欠安，他说他知道这事，才特意来找小姐说说话。我告诉他您已经睡下了。他似乎有先知先觉，也说他知道这事，所以必须跟您谈谈。小姐，请问我该对他说什么呢？因为，似乎一切拒绝的托辞都无济于事，他坚持要跟您面谈，不管您愿不愿意。”

出于好奇，奥丽维亚打算见见这个固执的、渴望她接见的使者，她一边戴上面纱，一边说，她要再听一次奥西诺信使的话，从薇奥拉的坚持她相信那信使准是被公爵派来的。薇奥拉走进来，她尽可能地装出一副男子汉的腔调，以侍童们惯用的极尽奉承的美妙言词，对蒙着面纱的小姐说：

“庄重、高雅、无双的美人，请您告诉我，您是否就是这府中的小姐。很抱歉我的话不能讲给别的人听，因为它写得很出色，我费了很多辛苦才把它学会。”

“你从什么地方来，先生？”奥丽维亚问。

“除了我背熟的话语以外，我不能说别的，”薇奥拉回答，“而且，你的问题是我不曾预备回答的。”

“你是演戏的吗？”奥丽维亚又问。

薇奥拉回答：“不，但是我承认，我不是我所扮演的角色。”她的言外之意是，她是个女子，却自己假扮成了男人。她再次问奥丽维亚，她是不是这府上的小姐。

奥丽维亚说她是。一种强烈的好奇心使薇奥拉很想一睹这位情敌的芳容，而不是匆忙地传达他主人的口信，她说：“好小姐，让我看看你的脸。”对于这个大胆的请求，奥丽维亚并不打算拒绝，因为奥西诺公爵爱慕了这么久而无果的这个骄傲的美人，却一眼爱上了这个乔装的侍童，卑微的西萨里奥。

就在薇奥拉请求看看她的脸时，奥丽维亚问：“殿下派你来就是为了和我这张脸商议吗？”此时，她已经忘了自己许下的蒙面七载的誓言，将面纱取了下来，并说：“我不妨拉下帘幕，让你看看这张图画，它画得很不错是吗？”

薇奥拉回答：“真是美妙的组合。你面颊上红红白白的色彩简直就是造化亲手描上去的。你是世上最狠心的女人，要是你甘心让这样的美埋没在坟墓里，而不给世间留下一份副本的话。”

奥丽维亚说：“啊，先生，我不会那样狠心。我将为世界列一张我的美貌的清单，诸如：浓淡适中的朱唇两片；灰眼睛一双以及盖在上面的眼睑。玉颈一围，下颏一个，等等。你是奉命到这儿来恭维我的吗？”

薇奥拉回答：“我知道你是个什么样的人了，你太傲慢了，不过你的确美丽动人。我的主人深爱着你。啊，如此的深爱，即使你是顶着美丽王冠的女王也应该给他报偿。奥西诺公爵满怀崇拜之心爱着你，他的爱伴着汹涌的眼泪，雷鸣般的呻吟，喷吐着火焰的叹息。”

奥丽维亚说：“你的主人了解我的心思。我不能爱他，但我不否认他品格高尚，我知道他是个又高贵、又有身份、又纯洁无瑕的年轻人。他有很好的名望，博学、谦恭、勇敢，但我还是不能爱他，他在很早以前就得到我的答复了。”

薇奥拉说：“假如我也像我主人这样爱你，我会在你的门外搭一座柳枝的木屋，每时每刻呼唤你的名字。我将为奥丽维亚书写哀怨的十四行诗，并在死寂的夜晚吟诵。我要向着有回声的山崖大声呼喊奥丽维亚，使你的名字在山谷中回荡，余音不绝，连空气中也充满了这些音符的呢哝。啊，我会让你在天地之间得不到安静，直到你怜悯了我。”

“那样一来我就真要被你征服了。那么，你的家世怎样呢？”奥丽维亚问。

薇奥拉回答：“比我眼下的身份要高，不过我眼下也不低。我是位绅士。”

奥丽维亚有些不忍心叫他离去了，她说：“回去告诉你的主人，我不能爱他。请他不要再派说客来了，除非你再一次来告诉我，他得到这答复后有何反应。”

薇奥拉丢下一句“无情的美人”，便辞别小姐而去。她走后，奥丽维亚忍不住重复那句话，“比我眼下的身份要高，不过眼下也不低，我是位绅士。”她大声地说：“我发誓，凭他说话的语调，他的脸，他的肢体、动作和灵魂，足以表明他是位绅士。”她多么希望西萨里奥与公爵能对换一下角色。西萨里奥那么快地吸引了她，她自责自己的爱情来得太突然了。但是人们对自己过错的谴责往往轻柔得一带而过，此时这位高贵的小姐已经把自己的地位与一位侍臣之间的差别，连同闺中女儿家特有的矜持，统统抛在脑后，她决定向青年西萨里奥求爱。她派一位仆人随后追上西萨里奥，送给他一枚钻石戒指，并假装说那戒指是奥西诺留给她的礼物。她希望通过这枚戒指巧妙地给西萨里奥一些暗示。薇奥拉有些疑惑，因为她知道奥西诺并没有派她送奥丽维亚什么戒指。她回想起奥丽维亚方才的表情和举止，无不表现出对她本人的赞美之意，她由此猜想到，她主人的情人已经爱上她这个假扮的侍童了。

“唉！”她叹道，“可怜的小姐还不如做一场梦呢。伪装真不是件好事，这会让奥丽维亚对我白费许多叹息，就像我对我的主人白费许多叹息一样。”

薇奥拉回到奥西诺的宫殿，汇报了这次不成功的说亲，又把奥丽维亚关于不让公爵再打扰的一番话也复述给他。然而，公爵仍然抱着坚定的信念，他希望西萨里奥能及时劝说奥丽维亚小姐使她怜惜他的爱，因此他吩咐西萨里奥第二天再去一趟。与此同时，为了打发单调乏味的时光，他命人为他唱一首他喜欢的情歌。他说：

“好西萨里奥，我昨夜听了这首歌，感觉它能慰解我的痴情。好好听着，西萨里奥，这是一首古老而朴素的情歌，是晒着太阳的纺线女和织女以及无忧无虑地制花边的女郎们常唱的歌；歌词都是些平常不过的真理，然而我却喜欢它，因为它诉说着古时候纯朴的爱情。”

过来吧，过来吧，死神！

让我横陈在凄凉的柏木棺中央；

飞去吧，飞去吧，浮生！

我死于一位狠心的美貌姑娘。

罩住我的白色殓衾已铺满紫杉；

啊，都预备齐了！

没有人像我一样死于这般的真情。

莫让一朵花儿，一朵甜蜜的花儿

抛撒在我那黑棺上，

没有一个朋友与我可怜的尸体告别。

不久我的尸骨就会散开，

免得多情的人们千万次感伤，

请把我埋葬在无从凭吊的荒岗！

薇奥拉品味着歌词，它朴实而明了地描述了没有结果的爱情悲剧，所表达的情绪呈现在她的脸上。奥西诺看出来了她伤感的表情，对她说： “西萨里奥，我的好孩子，尽管你还年轻，但是你的眼睛告诉我，你爱上了什么人，是不是，孩子？”“有一点儿，请您宽恕我。”薇奥拉回答。 “一个什么样的姑娘，她多大了？”奥西诺问。 “跟您差不多，殿下。”薇奥拉说。听说这个可爱的小男孩儿爱上了一位比自己大的女子，并且长着一副男人的相貌，公爵不禁大笑起来。他哪里知道薇奥拉所说的恋人正是暗指奥西诺自己，而并非一位什么姑娘。

薇奥拉再次去拜访奥丽维亚，她几乎没费什么周折就见到了她。仆人们很快发现，他们的小姐很喜欢跟这位年轻英俊的信使交谈。薇奥拉一来到门前，门就立即打开了，他谦恭地走进奥丽维亚的闺阁。当薇奥拉告诉奥丽维亚她再一次来转达公爵的求爱时，奥丽维亚说：

“我希望你别再提他了。但是如果你愿意为另外一个人求婚，我愿意倾听你的请求，胜过聆听仙乐。”

这句话坦率得有几分可爱，不仅如此，紧接着，奥丽维亚还要更加坦白地公开承认她的爱。她看出薇奥拉不高兴的样子及脸上显出困惑的表情，便说：“啊，轻蔑和怒气使你的嘴唇看起来更加美丽！西萨里奥，凭着春日的玫瑰，贞操，荣誉和忠诚，我要对你说，我是这样真心地爱上了你，不管你多么傲慢，理智都无法阻挡我热烈的情感。”

不用说，小姐的求爱是徒劳的。薇奥拉匆忙婉言回绝，并吓唬她说，自己再也不会来为奥西诺求情了。对奥丽维亚温柔的恳求，她的回答只有一句坚定的宣言：绝不爱任何女人。

薇奥拉刚一离开奥丽维亚小姐，就有人来试探她的胆量。一位曾向奥丽维亚求爱而被拒绝的绅士，听说小姐对公爵的信使颇有好感，便决定跟“他”来场决斗。薇奥拉该怎么办？尽管她外表装扮成男人的样子，但内里却怀着一颗真实的女儿心，她恐惧地看了一眼自己的剑。

她看见强大的对手已拔出剑来，正朝自己走过来，她开始考虑承认自己是女人。但是，就在此时，她的恐惧被解除了，也使她避免了暴露女人身份的耻辱。一位打此经过的陌生人使一场争端平息了。那人似乎认识她很久了，并且是一位最亲爱的朋友，他对她的敌人说：

“要是这位年轻的先生得罪了你，我替他担个不是；要是你冒犯了他，我可不肯对你罢休。”

薇奥拉还没来得及感谢那人对自己的保护或者问问他好心出面干预的原因，她的新朋友就碰上他的勇敢派不上用场的敌人。这时，警察及时赶到了，以公爵的名义逮捕了陌生人，理由是若干年前他冒犯过公爵。那陌生人对薇奥拉说：

“这场祸事都是为来找你而起。”然后他向她请求要回自己的钱袋，说：“现在我得要回我的钱袋了，让我伤心的倒不是我自己的遭遇，而是我不能再为你做什么了。你吃惊吗？但是请你宽心吧。”

他的话的确令薇奥拉吃惊，她敢肯定不认识他，也没接受过他的钱袋。但是为他刚才对她的相助，她提出给他一笔数目不小的钱，而那几乎是她的全部财产了。那年轻人又说了一些严厉的话，数落她忘恩负义，不讲情义。他说：

“你们瞧这个年轻人，我把他从死神那儿夺回来，而且仅仅因为他的缘故我来到伊利里亚，并落入这样的危险之中。”

可警察不想听他们的囚徒抱怨，他们催促他赶快走，说：“你的这些话跟我们有什么相干！”当陌生人被拖走的时候，他喊薇奥拉的名字为塞巴斯蒂安，不停地责备塞巴斯蒂安不认他这个朋友。直到他走远了，再也听不到他的声音。薇奥拉听到自己被称为塞巴斯蒂安，尽管她没来得及细问缘由，陌生人就被匆忙带走了，她还是觉出这件事有点离奇，她推断有可能那人把她错当成她哥哥了。她开始抱着一线希望，但愿那陌生人提到的他保护过的人就是她的哥哥。事实果然如此。那陌生人的名字叫安东尼奥，是个船长。在那场暴风雨中，塞巴斯蒂安把自己绑在桅杆上，随海浪漂流，正当他精疲力尽的时候，安东尼奥将他救到他的船上。安东尼奥非常珍视与塞巴斯蒂安的友谊，无论塞巴斯蒂安走到哪里，他都决心要陪伴他。当年轻的塞巴斯蒂安怀着好奇心想看看奥西诺的宫殿，安东尼奥不能承受与他的分别，也赶到伊利里亚来了，尽管他知道，一旦在那里他的身份被识破，随时都会有生命危险。因为，在一次海战中，他曾经使奥西诺的侄子受了重伤。正是这个缘故，他现在成了囚犯。

就在安东尼奥见到薇奥拉的几个小时以前，他们刚刚从海上来到陆地。他将他的钱袋交给了塞巴斯蒂安，告诉他如果看见什么想买的东西，他可以随便花那里面的钱，并说，当塞巴斯蒂安去逛街的时候，他将在旅馆里等他。但是，塞巴斯蒂安没有在约定的时间回到旅馆，安东尼奥便冒险出来找他。而薇奥拉穿着同样的衣服，事实上她的长相也酷似她哥哥，安东尼奥抽出佩剑（如他所想的）保护他搭救过的年轻人，而塞巴斯蒂安（他误认为的）却不认他，并拒绝归还他的钱袋，难怪他指责他忘恩负义。

安东尼奥离开后，薇奥拉担心再次被邀请决斗，便尽可能迅速地逃回家。她走后没多久，他的哥哥塞巴斯蒂安偶然路过这个地方，对手说：“现在，先生，我们又见面了吗？看招儿吧！”回手便是一击。塞巴斯蒂安可不是胆小鬼，他加倍还击，并拔出了他的剑。

一位小姐适时阻止了这场决斗。因为奥丽维亚从家里出来，邀请西萨里奥到她家去，她将塞巴斯蒂安错当成了西萨里奥，为他遭遇的这场恶斗感到难过。尽管塞巴斯蒂安对这位小姐的谦恭感到惊讶，就像惊讶于他的陌生敌人的无礼一样，他还是非常乐意走进这座宅子，而奥丽维亚欣喜地发现，西萨里奥（如她认为的那样）对于她的倾心变得有感觉多了；因为，尽管他们的面貌极其相似，当她对西萨里奥吐露爱情的时候，在这一张脸上却看不到一点儿她所抱怨的轻蔑和恼火。

塞巴斯蒂安一点儿也不拒绝这位小姐对他用情。他似乎已经欣然接受了，然而却弄不懂这一切是怎么发生的，他更倾向于认为奥丽维亚神志不清；但是他觉察到她是个不错的家庭女主人，她料理家务似乎井井有条，除了她忽然爱上他这一点外，她在其他方面都表现得合情合理，他接受了她的求爱；奥丽维亚发现西萨里奥心情正好，担心他可能改变主意，便提议，有位牧师刚好在她家里，他们应该立即结婚。塞巴斯蒂安同意了这个提议；婚礼仪式结束后，他暂别妻子，打算把他碰到的这份好运气告诉给他的朋友安东尼奥。在此期间，奥西诺来拜访奥丽维亚。就在他到达奥丽维亚屋前的时候，先于公爵，法官带来了他们的犯人安东尼奥。薇奥拉同奥西诺，她的主人在一块；安东尼奥看见薇奥拉，仍然把她当成塞巴斯蒂安。他告诉公爵他是如何在海难中搭救了这个年轻人的；之后，他充分叙述了自己对塞巴斯蒂安带来的种种好处，最后说了一些抱怨的话，三个月来，这个忘恩负义的年轻人白天黑夜跟他形影不离。可是眼下奥丽维亚小姐从她的屋里走出来，公爵便不再专注于安东尼奥的故事。他说：“过来吧女伯爵，真是仙女下凡了！这家伙在说疯话。三个月来，这年轻人一直侍候着我。”然后，他命人把安东尼奥带到一边去。但是，奥西诺公爵的心爱的女伯爵很快给了他谴责西萨里奥的理由，不亚于安东尼奥抱怨的忘恩负义，因为他听得出来奥丽维亚对西萨里奥说的那些话都是亲切的：当他发现他的男侍者在奥丽维亚心里占据这样高的地位，便以他用于复仇的所有可怕言行威胁他；当他准备离开的时候，他让薇奥拉跟着他，说：“跟我来，孩子。我已经想好了处治的办法。”尽管公爵出于嫉妒而怒火攻心，似乎打算将薇奥拉立即处死，然而她的爱却令她不再懦弱，她说，她非常高兴以忍受死亡换取主人的宽心。可是，奥丽维亚不想这样失去她的丈夫，她哭喊道：“我的西萨里奥去哪儿了啊？”薇奥拉回答：“我喜欢追随他胜过我的生命。”然而，奥丽维亚大声宣布西萨里奥是她的丈夫并阻止他们离开，并派人叫来牧师，牧师声明，他将奥丽维亚小姐与这位年轻人结为夫妻还不到两小时。薇奥拉徒然抗议说她没有跟奥丽维亚结婚。这个妇人和神父的见证让奥西诺相信，他的侍童夺去了他视若生命的珍宝。但是想着事情已无可挽回，他告别他的无情的情人和她的丈夫（那个“小伪君子”）——他这样称薇奥拉，他警告她，永远别来见他！然而就在这时，奇迹出现了！另一位西萨里奥走了进来，宣布奥丽维亚是他的妻子。这位新来的西萨里奥正是塞巴斯蒂安，真正的奥丽维亚的丈夫。众人有点新奇地望着这两个人，他们有着一样的面孔，一样的声音，一样的举止。接下来，哥哥和妹妹开始互致问候。薇奥拉几乎不敢相信哥哥还活着，塞巴斯蒂安则弄不懂他原以为淹死了的妹妹怎么会是一副年轻男子的模样。但是，薇奥拉很快承认，她确确实实就是他的妹妹薇奥拉，一个假扮成男人的薇奥拉。

相貌极其相似的兄妹俩同时出现在同一场合，使得所有的误会都消除了，大家都笑奥丽维亚小姐犯下了一个多么可笑的错误，她曾经那么迷恋过一位小姐。而当奥丽维亚发现她与之成婚的是哥哥，而不是妹妹，竟一点也不感到难为情。

奥西诺想与奥丽维亚成婚的愿望永远结束了，那份没有结果的爱情似乎消失得无影无踪，他的全部注意力都集中在一件让人高兴的事情上，那便是：年轻的西萨里奥变成了一位美丽的姑娘。他专注地望着薇奥拉，想起往日，他一直认为西萨里奥是那么英俊大方，他猜想她穿上女装的模样一定更加漂亮，于是他记起她时常说到她爱他，在那时这样的话听起来似乎只是一位忠诚的侍者表达忠诚而已，但是现在他品味出那里面的弦外之音，因为她那许多可爱的话听起来像谜语似的，现在豁然开朗了，他一想起那桩桩件件的往事，便决定要娶薇奥拉为妻。他对她说（他仍然改不过口来称她为西萨里奥和孩子）：

“孩子，你曾经对我说过无数次，你从来没有像爱我这样爱一个女人，为了忠诚事主，你为我做了太多不适于你柔弱的性别和文雅的教养所能承担的事情。你一直把我称作主人，从此以后，你便是你主人的主妇了，是实实在在的奥西诺公爵夫人。”

奥丽维亚曾经那么无礼地拒绝了公爵的求爱，现在她看出奥西诺的心已经从她的身上转移到了薇奥拉的身上，她便邀请他们去她的家里作客，并提议，在这一个天中剩余的时光里，将协助那位早晨为她和塞巴斯蒂安主婚的牧师，为奥西诺和薇奥拉举行婚礼。于是，双胞胎兄妹在同一天结了婚，分开他们的那场暴风雨和不幸的海难，最终又促成了他们的好运，薇奥拉做了伊利里亚公爵奥西诺的妻子，塞巴斯蒂安则成了高贵文雅的女伯爵奥丽维亚小姐的丈夫。

罗密欧与朱丽叶

在维罗纳城有两家豪门巨族，一个是凯普莱特，一个是蒙太古。两家很久以前就结下私仇，如今积怨越来越深，两家人憎恨到彼此势不两立的地步，以至于殃及到两边的远族亲戚、官场上的追随者以及家臣们。就其程度而言，一个蒙太古家的仆人若与一个凯普莱特家的仆人遇见，或是一个凯普莱特家的仆人偶然遇到蒙太古家的仆人，双方就会恶语相向，继而导致流血事件发生。因为这种意外见面而引发的争吵时常发生，使维罗纳的街道难得有清静的时候。

这天，老勋爵凯普莱特举行盛大晚宴，邀请了许多漂亮的太太小姐和许多高贵的绅士。只要不是蒙太古家的人，维罗纳城里所有体面的人物都出席了，所有客人都受到热情欢迎。在凯普莱特家的晚宴上，罗莎琳也到场，她是老勋爵蒙太古的儿子罗密欧的心上人。作为蒙太古家的人，尽管在宴会上有被发现的危险，罗密欧的朋友班伏里奥还是力劝他戴着面具来参加宴会，因为这样，罗密欧就可以看见他的罗莎琳了，看见她，也好跟维罗纳城里的美人比比，用班伏里奥的话说，到那时罗密欧就会发现他的白天鹅不过是只黑乌鸦。罗密欧对班伏里奥的话一点也不相信，然而出于对罗莎琳的爱，他还是接受了班伏里奥的劝说，到凯普莱特家去了。罗密欧是一位感情真挚、热情似火的有情人，因为爱罗莎琳，他常为相思而失眠，逃避社交圈，只想一个人独处。而罗莎琳却不把他放在眼里，她从没对他表示过最起码的谦恭或爱情。班伏里奥就是想通过这个晚宴让他结识更多的姑娘，以治愈他的单相思。班伏里奥陪他一同去凯普莱特家，另外还有他们的朋友茂丘西奥，他们都戴了面具。老凯普莱特热情地欢迎他们，他对他们打趣说，只要太太小姐们脚底没生鸡眼，都会愿意跟他们跳舞的。老人心情格外高兴，说他年轻的时候，也曾戴上面具附在姑娘耳边说悄悄话。于是他们步入舞池。突然，罗密欧被一位极其美貌的姑娘吸引住了，她的美光芒四射，仿佛是一把燃烧的火炬；她在夜色中呈现的美貌，更宛如一颗珍贵的宝石戴在了黑人的耳朵上。她太美了，简直不能碰触，世间没有什么比她更可爱！用罗密欧的话说，她就像乌鸦群中一只雪白的鸽子，在她的同伴中显得那么妩媚动人、完美无瑕。就在罗密欧自言自语地发出赞叹之声时，他的话被提伯尔特偷听到了，提伯尔特是老凯普莱特夫人的侄子，他通过声音认出罗密欧来。提伯尔特性情暴躁，他不能容忍一个蒙太古家的人在面具掩盖下混进来，来此嘲笑他们的这般隆重。他非常愤怒，想要打死年轻的罗密欧。但是老凯普莱特不能忍受他在这个时候做出任何伤害客人的事情，一来这有悖对客人的尊重，二来这个罗密欧倒也像个绅士，在维罗纳城，人人都说他是个善良而有教养的年轻人。提伯尔特不得已忍下这口气，但是他发誓说，这个可恶的蒙太古早晚要为他的这次冒然闯入付出代价。

舞跳完了，罗密欧还看着那姑娘站的地方。因为化了装，在那一身装束遮掩下，他的冒昧似乎可以得到些许原谅，他想以最文雅的方式跟她握手，他称她的手为神龛，他对她说，假如因为他的接触而亵渎了它的圣洁，那么作为一个羞愧的朝圣者，他将为了赎罪而去亲吻它。

“我的好信徒，”姑娘回答说，“你这虔诚表明，你太礼貌、太有教养了。圣人的手允许圣徒接触，但是吻就免了。”

“这么说圣人和朝圣者没有嘴唇吗？”罗密欧问。

“当然不是，”姑娘回答，“不过，他们的嘴唇只用于祈祷。”

“啊，我的圣人，”罗密欧说，“请聆听并接受我的祈祷，切莫让我失望。”

两人如此这般含而不露地表达着爱慕之情。就在这时，姑娘被她母亲叫走了。罗密欧忙向人打听她母亲的身份，他了解到这位美貌无双、让他一见倾心的姑娘，叫朱丽叶——原来竟是蒙太古家族的大仇人老凯普莱特的女儿和继承人。罗密欧的心已经被仇人的女儿牢牢吸引住了，这让他感到不安，但是，谁也别想阻止他的爱情。很快，朱丽叶被告知，她与之交谈的那位文雅绅士叫罗密欧，一个蒙太古家的人，她也同样感到不安，因为她已迫不及待地陷入了对罗密欧的痴情，她不顾一切地爱上了他。爱情来得太猛烈，以至于她非要爱上她的敌人，让爱情在那里生根，只是家人会劝她对情人生恨。

午夜时分，罗密欧跟同伴们离开了凯普莱特家，但是很快他们就跟他走散了，因为他的心已经留在那儿了，他不忍就此离去。他翻墙跳入朱丽叶屋后的花园，在那儿默想他的新爱。不久，朱丽叶出现在窗口，她的绝世之美赛过朝霞，而照进花园的月亮显得那般黯然失色，月亮在这颗新升的恒星的光彩衬托下，有如病人的脸儿一样苍白。此时，朱丽叶侧过面庞，用手托住脸颊，罗密欧多么渴望自己变成一只手套，那样的话，他就可以触摸到她脸上的香泽。与此同时，朱丽叶独自沉浸在相思里，自心底发出长长的叹息，忍不住呼出一声：

“唉，天哪！”

听到她这一声叹，罗密欧忍住狂喜，轻轻地，用她无法听到的声音鼓励道：“啊，说下去，光明的天使，你的出现在我的心里就像一个长着翅膀的使者从天空飞过，而我这样仰视你，作为一个尘世的凡人。”

朱丽叶丝毫没发觉有人在偷听她说话，在夜色的遮掩下，她大胆地抒发着内心的情感，念着她恋人的名字（她以为他不在那儿），说：“啊，罗密欧，罗密欧！”她接着说，“为什么你偏偏是罗密欧呢？为了我的缘故，请背叛你的父亲，拒绝你的名字吧。或者，如果你不肯的话，只要你发誓做我的爱人，我愿不再姓凯普莱特。”

罗密欧激动地听着朱丽叶的倾诉，满心想说话，但他渴望听到她说出更多更好的妙语；而朱丽叶自顾自地继续她那自言自语的演说，且仍然不停地责备罗密欧是罗密欧，是蒙太古，她希望他有个别的名字，因为名字本不属于他身体的一部分，如果他肯放弃这个可恨的名字，他可以得到她的全部。听朱丽叶这般倾吐衷情，罗密欧激情难抑，就像她刚才是直接跟他对话，而不是想象的一样，接过她的话头说，愿她唤他情人，或者只要她高兴随便称他什么都行，如果罗密欧这个名字令她烦恼，他就不再叫罗密欧了。朱丽叶吃惊地听到花园里有个男子的声音，起初她不知道那人是谁，担心有人在夜里窥探了她的秘密。而当他再次讲话的时候，尽管还没说漏一百个字，她马上听出这个人就是年轻的罗密欧。她告诫他说，翻墙跃入花园被人发现是很危险的，一个蒙太古家的人，无论被她的哪个家人发现了，都会将他置于死地。

“天哪！”罗密欧叹息道，“你的眼睛比他们的二十柄剑还厉害。可爱的姑娘，你只要用温柔的目光望着我，我就可以抵御他们的仇恨。与其在这世上白白地拖延生命而得不到你的爱情，还不如在仇人的刀剑下丧生的好。”

朱丽叶问：“你是怎么找到这儿来的？是谁给你指路？”

“是爱指引了我，”罗密欧回答。“我不会操舟驾舵，可是倘使你是一颗美丽的珠宝，在遥远的海岸，大海每日冲洗着你，我也会冒险将你寻访。”

红晕攀上朱丽叶的面颊，然而夜色的遮掩使罗密欧无法看见她娇羞的美艳。朱丽叶仔细回味罗密欧的话语，忍不住为他这番表白而冲动，然而，这并不意味着她对罗密欧的爱情盟约已经达成。她高兴地回想起刚才自己说过的话，可她心里明白要想说到做到是不可能的。她必需拘泥于礼节，跟她的心上人保持距离。按照大家闺秀的作派，她们往往会对求爱者皱眉、不理不睬，一开始要表示出无情的拒绝，故意疏远追求者，对他们的求爱假装害羞或漠不关心，让求爱者认为她们不会轻易得手，因为追求的过程越艰难，这件东西才越珍贵。但是在这样的场合下，朱丽叶没有婉拒求爱者的余地，也不能寻找借口兜圈子、作秀，以拖延求爱的时间。因为方才，她不曾想到罗密欧就在身边，她的自言自语都被罗密欧听了去，那便是她爱情的表白。在这种情况下，她只得以一种从未有过的坦诚，证实他方才听到的话是她发自内心的声音。“俊美的蒙太古啊”，她这样称呼他的名字（爱情可使一个刺耳的名字变得甜蜜），祈求他别嫌恶她这样容易征服，或者太不矜持，除非他觉得今夜的意外相见，使他聆听到她的心声是个错误。又说，拿女性所应遵循的礼法衡量，尽管她的举止看上去也许不够谨慎，然而她保证她的言行比那些假装谨慎的女子更真实，因为她们的谨思慎行不过是一种狡猾的手段罢了。

罗密欧刚开口对天发誓，说他决不会把轻浮的恶名加在一个可敬的姑娘头上，朱丽叶便打断了他的话，求他不要发下那样的誓言，因为，尽管她喜欢他，也还是不愿意在这样的夜晚交换誓言——不管怎么说，那还是太草率、太欠思虑、太唐突了。而罗密欧依然急于在这个晚上跟朱丽叶交换爱的盟誓。朱丽叶说，在他提出这样的要求之前，她就已经把爱给过他了，他不是偷听到了她的内心独白吗？不过现在她要收回她的爱，因为她愿意重新给他一次，她的爱像海洋一样广阔，一样深沉。两人还在交谈中，奶妈在房里唤朱丽叶，奶妈和朱丽叶同睡一室，她想她该睡觉了，天都快亮了。朱丽叶离开了一会儿又回来了，说再跟他说三四句话。朱丽叶说，假如罗密欧的爱真实无欺，他的心思是想结婚的话，那么她明天会派一个信使去找他，约好结婚的时间，尔后，她将把自己的命运交给他，让他成为她的丈夫，他走到哪里，她就跟到哪里。他们正谈到关键话题，奶妈再三催促她到床上睡觉。她去了回来，再去再回来，她担心罗密欧从她身边走掉，就像一位姑娘舍不得放走她的小鸟一样，她让它从手掌上跳出去一点，又用背上拴着的丝线把它拽回来。罗密欧跟她一样不情愿分别。在夜晚，两人的情话像美妙的音乐彼此传递。然而，他们最终还是分开了，分手前相互祝愿在那个夜晚仅剩的时间里香甜地做个好梦。

罗密欧与朱丽叶分手时天已放亮。他满心装着他的恋人，并渴望下一次的相见，以至于不想就这么睡去。他没回家，而是到离家不远的修道院拜访劳伦斯神父。这位虔诚的神父已经起床做早祷了，他看见年轻的罗密欧这么早就来了，一下子便猜出他那晚上一夜没睡。除了爱情的狂热让年轻人无眠，还会有什么事呢？他指出罗密欧为爱情而失眠一点不错，但是他猜错了爱的对象，还以为他是为思念罗莎琳而彻夜无眠呢。而罗密欧向他透露了他的新爱是朱丽叶，并请求神父帮助他们在这一天结婚。可敬的神父抬起目光，举起手来，他惊奇于他的爱情如此突然地起了变化，因为他私下里知道罗密欧死心塌地爱着罗莎琳，并老是抱怨她对他的蔑视。便说，年轻人的爱情不在他们的心里，只在他们的眼中。罗密欧告诉神父，他以前沉溺于对罗莎琳的爱是幼稚的，她不可能爱他，然而朱丽叶，既是他爱的人，也是爱他的人。神父对他的理由多少表示赞同，并且想到，朱丽叶与罗密欧两位年轻人的结合，恰好可以弥补凯普莱特和蒙太古两家长期存在的裂痕。神父与这两家都是朋友，他经常出面调停他们两家的纠纷，但是效果甚微，对此没有谁比他更痛心了。一部分出于权宜之计，一部分出于个人对罗密欧的喜爱，神父没有理由拒绝罗密欧的请求，他当即答应为他们主持婚礼。

于是，罗密欧得到了神父的祝福。朱丽叶从她派去的信使那里了解到罗密欧的计划，早早地赶到劳伦斯神父的教堂，在那里，两位恋人的手被神圣的婚姻结合在一起。仁慈的神父祈祷上帝赐福于他们的爱情，并保佑通过年轻一代的蒙太古和凯普莱特的联姻，从此埋藏两个家族长期的积怨和冲突。

婚礼仪式结束后，朱丽叶马上赶回家，焦虑不安地等待夜晚降临，因为罗密欧答应夜里来花园与她幽会，他们昨天夜里就是在那儿相见的。等待的时间是单调乏味的，像孩子们在过节的前一晚上，守着新衣不能穿，却偏要等到早晨来临。

也就在这同一天里，大约中午时分，罗密欧的朋友班伏里奥和茂丘西奥走过维罗纳大街，碰上凯普莱特家的一群人，好冲动的提伯尔特走在他们的前面。这个提伯尔特便是在老凯普莱特家的晚会上，想要教训一顿罗密欧的那个怒气冲冲的年轻人。他一看见茂丘西奥，便责备他不该跟罗密欧，蒙太古家的人交往。茂丘西奥刚好和提伯尔特一样，是个既不理智又血气方刚的年轻人，他用同样尖刻的斥责回敬对手。不管班伏里奥怎样从中劝说，两人都不肯听，终于争吵起来。就在这时，罗密欧刚好打此经过，凶悍的提伯尔特从茂丘西奥转向罗密欧，污辱罗密欧是恶棍。罗密欧一心想避免与提伯尔特争吵，因为提尔伯特是朱丽叶的亲戚，也是朱丽叶所心爱的人。除此以外，这个年轻的蒙太古从来没有参与到家族的冲突中来，他天性温和，况且凯普莱特的姓氏就是他爱妻朱丽叶的姓氏，这个姓氏与其说是引发仇恨的暗号，不如说是消除仇恨的灵符。他试图跟提伯尔特讲道理，他称呼他为好凯普莱特，温情地向他问候，尽管他是一个蒙太古，当他提到凯普莱特的姓氏时也似乎暗自喜欢。然而，提尔伯特像憎恨地狱一样憎恨所有的蒙太古，他非但不听他的劝说，还拔出剑来。茂丘西奥不明白罗密欧的用意是希望跟提伯尔特讲和，他看见罗密欧以一副屈尊降服、甘心受辱的样子出现，便以鄙视的语言激怒提伯尔特，提伯尔特又像开头那样跟他争吵起来。两人终于动起手来，打得难解难分，罗密欧与班伏里奥想拉架根本拉不开，直到茂丘西奥中剑倒下。茂丘西奥死了，罗密欧不再容忍，他转而用提伯尔特的话轻蔑地骂他是恶棍，他们打斗起来，直到罗密欧杀了提伯尔特。一场致命的争斗降临在正午的维罗纳城中心，消息很快传开了，市民们纷纷赶到出事地点，在这些人当中有凯普莱特勋爵和蒙太古勋爵，以及他们各自的夫人。不一会儿，维罗纳大公也赶到现场，大公和被提伯尔特杀死的茂丘里奥是亲戚。很久以来，他所管辖的城区经常由于蒙太古与凯普莱特两家的纠纷，不得安宁，这一次大公决定以无情的法律严惩犯罪者。班伏里奥是这场恶斗的目击者，大公命令他描述事情的经过。为了尽量接近事实真相，又不伤害到罗密欧，他的确淡化了一部分情节，并努力为他的朋友辩解。凯普莱特夫人为失去亲人提伯尔特万分悲痛，她怀着复仇的心情请求大公惩办凶手，不要听信班伏里奥的陈述，因为他是罗密欧的朋友，而且是一个蒙太古，说话定有偏颇。她恳请大公让罗密欧一命抵一命，此时她还不知道罗密欧已是她的女婿、朱丽叶的丈夫。另一方的蒙太古夫人为他的孩子苦苦求情，她据理力争地辩驳说，尽管罗密欧杀了提伯尔特，但也不应受到处罚，因为是提伯尔特先违犯了法律杀死了茂丘西奥。大公对两个女人动情的哀求无动于衷，他仔细检查一下现场，当场宣布了他的审判结果：将罗密欧驱逐出维罗纳。

不幸的消息传入朱丽叶的耳朵。她才刚刚做了几个小时的新娘，而眼下一纸判决意味着她将永远地离婚了！听到这个消息，她的第一反应是愤怒地斥责罗密欧，因为他杀死了她亲爱的表哥。她称他是漂亮的暴君，一个魔鬼般的天使，一只贪婪的鸽子，有着羊的模样和狼的本性，有花一般的脸孔和蛇一般的心肠，等等，总之是一个外表和内心截然相反的家伙。她的头脑里，爱和恨开始斗争。结果，爱占了上风，罗密欧杀死了她表哥，她为表哥的死流下了悲伤的眼泪。这会儿，她突然转念一想，如果不是罗密欧杀了提伯尔特，提伯尔特就会杀死罗密欧，可喜的是，她的罗密欧还活着，于是她悲伤的泪水转而变成了高兴的泪水。继而她的泪水又发生了变化，她为罗密欧被驱逐伤心欲绝。对她来说，罗密欧被放逐的消息比死好几个提伯尔特还可怕。

恶斗结束后，罗密欧躲进劳伦斯神父修行的密室，在那儿，他刚刚得知大公对他的审判结果，这消息比宣判他的死刑还可怕。他说，出了维罗纳城也就等于到了世界尽头，看不见朱丽叶他没法活下去。朱丽叶在哪里，哪里就是天堂，而一切看不见朱丽叶的地方都是折磨人的炼狱。好心的劳伦斯神父想用哲理抚慰他伤痛的心，但是这个发疯的年轻人什么也听不进去，他像个疯子似的揪自己的头发，在地上打滚儿不肯起来，嘴里念叨着，他在丈量他的坟墓。这时，从他爱妻那儿传来的消息把他从失魂落魄中唤醒。神父趁此机劝告他趁早丢掉他的懦弱。他不是已经杀死提伯尔特了吗？如果再杀了自己，也就等于杀了他相依相恋的爱人，因为他亲爱的人不是就活在他的生命里吗？神父说，一个高贵的人如果没有勇气，就仅仅是个蜡做的形体。大公的嘴里只宣布将他驱逐，法律不判处他的死刑已经够宽容他了。提尔伯特原是要杀了他的，而他最终杀了提伯尔特——这岂不是一种幸福？朱丽叶还活着，并且（超出期望）成了他亲爱的妻子，就这一点，他是最幸福的。神父努力让他明白这一切，罗密欧勉强从女人似的愁苦中打起精神。神父嘱咐他要小心，这样沉浸在绝望的痛苦中是要坏事的。等罗密欧稍稍平静下来，神父劝他当天夜里秘密地与朱丽叶见上一面，然后立即动身去曼图亚，就在曼图亚住下来，等着神父找一个合适的机会宣布他的婚姻，这个喜讯或许可以化解两家之间的仇恨。那样的话，相信大公肯定会受到感动，赦免他的罪过，他便可以带着比现在流放的痛苦多得多的快乐重新回到维罗纳来。罗密欧确信神父的这些话很有道理，于是他动身去找他的爱人，计划当天夜里跟她呆在一起，次日天亮前再独自踏上去曼图亚的旅程。神父答应，等他到了曼图亚后，会不时给他捎信，让他知晓家中的情况。

这晚，罗密欧是跟他的爱妻一起度过的，他获准秘密地从花园进入她的卧室，那花园正是昨天夜里他偷听到朱丽叶坦白爱情的地方。昨天夜里他们有的只是快乐和兴奋，而今天这个彼此相亲相爱的夜晚，两个人的心都被离别的阴影笼罩着，本来的快乐和兴奋也被冒险和悲伤所冲淡。讨厌的黎明似乎很快就来了，当朱丽叶听到云雀的早歌时，她极力让自己相信那是夜莺在叫，是属于夜晚的歌。但是，云雀的叫声太真切了，音调在她听起来是那么不和谐、那么难听，东方迅速亮起的天光提醒他们，该是与爱人分手的时候了。罗密欧起身，心事沉重地离开了他亲爱的妻子，他许诺到了曼图亚以后每时每刻都能给她写信。罗密欧从朱丽叶卧室的窗户跳出去，当他的双脚落在地上，站在她的下面，朱丽叶的头脑里生出一种不祥的预感，她从窗子里俯视他时，他在她的眼睛里像是死去的人在深深的坟墓里。罗密欧的心中同样笼罩着这种阴影。但是现在，他不得不马上离开，因为天亮后如果他在维罗纳城里被人发现，那就只有死路一条。

对于这对不幸的伴侣，悲剧才刚刚开始。罗密欧走后不久，老勋爵凯普莱特提出要为朱丽叶物色一个对象。他已经为她选好了一位丈夫，帕里斯伯爵，一位年轻英俊高贵的绅士，如果朱丽叶从来不曾见过罗密欧的话，这桩亲事再合适不过，但是她父亲做梦也没想到，女儿已经结了婚。

她父亲向朱丽叶提起这桩亲事，她顿时吓得有些惊惶失措。她称自己年纪尚轻，还不适合结婚；再说，提伯尔特刚刚死去，她不论去见多么赏心悦目的男人都提不起精神。而且，刚举行过葬礼又马上举行婚宴，对于凯普莱特家族来说也太不合礼节。她找出各种借口搪塞这门亲事，只是不说出真实的原因是，她已经结婚了。但是老凯普莱特对她的种种理由听而不闻，他断然命令她做好准备，因为即将到来的星期四就是她与帕里斯结婚的日子，到时候她就会见到那位富有、年轻、高贵的丈夫，成为维罗纳城人人羡慕的最骄傲的新娘。老勋爵不能接受她的种种理由，因为他误以为她是在假装羞涩，他不能听任她这样断送大好前途。

在无可奈何的情况下，朱丽叶去请教仁慈的神父。当遇到不幸时，神父永远是最好的顾问。神父问她，有没有决心铤而走险，采取一种迫不得已的办法。朱丽叶回答说，她宁愿活着走进坟墓也不愿跟帕里斯结婚，因为她自己的丈夫还活着。神父便教给她一个办法，让她回家，先依照她父亲的心愿，高高兴兴地答应跟帕里斯结婚，等到第二天夜里，也就是婚礼的前夜，将他交给她的一小瓶药水一饮而尽，喝下去后四十二小时，她将变得浑身冰冷、没有知觉，当新郎次日早晨来迎亲的时候，就会发现她已经死了。接着他们一定会按照当地的习俗，把她装入一个无盖的棺材里抬走，安放在朱丽叶家族停放尸体的地窖。“如果你能抛弃女人的怯懦，同意经受这可怕的考验，在你咽下这瓶药水的四十二小时之后，你准会清醒过来，你会觉得像做了一场梦一样。”神父接着告诉朱丽叶，在她醒过来之前，他将设法让她丈夫罗密欧知道他们的计划，使他连夜赶来，将她带到曼图亚。对罗密欧的爱情，以及对跟帕里斯结婚的恐惧，给了年轻的朱丽叶冒险的勇气，她接过神父给她的药瓶，答应按神父的教导去做。

从修道院出来，朱丽叶遇见了帕里斯伯爵，她小心掩饰自己内心的慌乱，答应做他的新娘。这对于凯普莱特和他的妻子来说无异于一个好消息。她父亲那般兴奋，好像变年轻了，朱丽叶再次成为他亲爱的孩子，她已答应尊从父命，而此前因为她拒绝嫁给帕里斯伯爵，让父亲非常恼火。如今就要举行盛大的婚礼了，凯普莱特家到处是一派忙碌景象。在维罗纳，以前从来没有人见过这么不惜代价置办一场婚宴的。

星期三夜里，朱丽叶喝下药水。她有些忧虑，担心神父是不是为了避免承担将她嫁给罗密欧的过错而送给她一剂毒药，但是她反过来又想，神父一直被认为是一位有德行的人。接着她又担心，她是不是会在罗密欧到来之前就醒过来，那样的话，那地方可是太恐怖了，地窖里到处都是凯普莱特家族的尸骨，在那儿，满身血污的提伯尔特正躺在裹尸布里腐烂，她会不会被吓得神经错乱呢？不仅如此，她又想起那些听说过的鬼故事，在那里，灵魂脱离肉体四处游荡。可另一方面，她又想到自己是怎样地爱着罗密欧，怎样地厌恶帕里斯，于是不顾一切地吞下药水，很快就人事不醒了。

一大早，年轻的帕里斯伴着音乐来唤醒他的新娘，然而她的房里死一般寂静。他很快发现，呈现在他眼前的不是活着的朱丽叶，而是她的了无生气的僵尸。他的希望彻底毁灭了！这多么不可思议！可怜的帕里斯为新娘的死悲痛欲绝，他被可恶的死亡欺骗了，甚至还没结婚就已经离婚了。当听到这不幸的消息，更加哀痛欲绝的还是老勋爵和夫人，因为他们只有这一个独生女儿，这个可爱的孩子是他们唯一的快乐和安慰，然而，就在深爱她的双亲眼看女儿就要步入美满的婚姻殿堂时，残酷的死亡无情地将她从他们身边夺走了。所有为婚事筹备的桩桩件件，转而承担起置办一场黑色的丧事，喜庆的酒宴成了悲伤的葬席，新婚的赞美诗也咏成凄凉的挽歌，轻快的乐器改成忧郁的丧钟，以及原本应该撒在新婚脚下的鲜花，如今都撒在了她的尸体上；主持婚礼的牧师成了主持葬礼的牧师。她果然被送入了教堂，但那不是为了增添活着的快乐，而是为了给死人堆又增加一名不幸者。

俗话说，好事不出门，坏事传千里。在曼图亚，先于神父的信使到达之前，罗密欧就已经听说了朱丽叶的死。劳伦斯神父派信使去通知罗密欧，告诉他刚刚在维罗纳城举行的不过是一场虚假的葬礼，不过是想在死亡的庇护下，让他亲爱的朱丽叶在坟墓里躺一会儿，希望等罗密欧赶到后将她救走。就在刚才，罗密欧还异常欢喜，心情愉悦。因为，他在夜里做了一个梦，梦见自己死了（多么奇怪，死去的人也能思想），这时他的爱人来了，发现他已死去，便带着温馨的气息吻住他的唇，于是他又醒过来了，并且发现自己做了国王！眼下，正好有一个从维罗纳来的信使，他想，这个信使一定是带来了他梦里预兆的好消息。但是，信使却说出了与梦境相反的情形，那就是，他的爱人真的死了，而他却不能将她吻醒。罗密欧吩咐人为他备马，他决定当晚赶到维罗纳，到坟墓里去见他的爱人。可怕的念头总是会进入陷入绝境的人的思维里。他想起一个可怜的卖药者，他最近经过他的店铺，他穷得像个乞丐，面黄肌瘦，那药铺里肮脏的货架上摆了一排空盒子，使店中颇显寒伧，此外还有一些别的迹象说明他的极度穷困。那时候罗密欧大概有点担心自己的一生也会遭遇这种绝望的结局，便对自己说： “如果有人需要毒药，而依照曼图亚的法律，卖药者当处以死刑的话，那么在这儿住着的这个可怜的人，将是卖药给他的人。”现在这些话正浮现在他的脑海里。他找到那个卖药的人，那人假装犹豫了一下，罗密欧赶紧掏出金子递给他，他的贫穷不允许他拒绝这个，于是他把毒药卖给了罗密欧，并告诉他说，假如他咽下这毒药，就算他有二十个人的生命力，也会很快被送到天堂。

罗密欧带上毒药起程去往维罗纳，打算到坟墓里看一眼他的爱妻，他想，他只要看上她一眼就满足了，然后他将吞下毒药，让自己死在她的身边。他在午夜到达了维罗纳，在古老的凯普莱特家族的墓地中找到了朱丽叶的坟墓。他带了一盏灯、一把铁锹和铁扳手，当他正在打开墓门的时候，一个声音打断了他，“住手！可恶的蒙太古，别干那种伤天害理的事情！”说话的是年轻的帕里斯伯爵，在这个夜晚非常不合时宜的时辰，他来给朱丽叶的坟墓撒鲜花，以此哀悼本该属于自己的新娘。他不知道罗密欧为什么对死去的朱丽叶感兴趣，只知道他是一个蒙太古，并且是凯普莱特家不共戴天的敌人，他断定他是趁黑夜来对死尸做什么见不得人的缺德事，因此他用愤怒的声音喝令罗密欧住手；同时帕里斯想抓住他，因为作为被维罗纳的法律宣判驱逐的罪犯，罗密欧一旦在城里被发现，就当处以死刑。罗密欧劝帕里斯走开，并以埋在旁边的提尔伯特的下场警告帕里斯不要激怒他，否则他不得不杀了他而给自己带来又一桩罪恶。但是帕里斯伯爵轻蔑地回绝了他，还向这个重罪犯动起手来，罗密欧还击，于是两人打斗起来，最终帕里斯倒下了。罗密欧借着灯光发现被他打死的是帕里斯，他在曼图亚隐约听说，正是这位帕里斯打算跟朱丽叶结婚。他拉了拉这个年轻人的手，把他当成一个与自己一样不幸的同伴，他说，他要把他埋在胜利的坟墓里，意即埋进朱丽叶的坟墓。他打开了墓门。看见坟墓里躺着他的爱人，她的美无可匹敌，连死亡也没有力量将她的容颜改变；或者是死神多情，那可恶的妖怪为了自己的私情而留住她的美貌。她躺在那儿，仍是那么娇嫩鲜艳。就像她刚咽下那可导致失去知觉的药水睡着了一样。在她旁边就躺着血肉模糊的提尔伯特，罗密欧也看见了他，向他的尸体祈求原谅，并且为了朱丽叶的缘故称他表哥，他告诉提尔伯特，他会以结束他的敌人的生命而使他高兴起来。然后，罗密欧亲吻朱丽叶的双唇，与他的爱人作别。他从自己疲惫的身体上解下行囊，将卖药人卖给他的毒药一饮而尽。这种毒药是致命的，不像朱丽叶饮下的糊弄人的药水，它的药效可以叫人当场送命。当朱丽叶恍恍惚惚醒过来，一定抱怨罗密欧不遵守时间，要么就是他来得太早了。

现在到了神父承诺朱丽叶清醒的时候，而神父刚刚得知，他派往曼图亚的信使不幸在路上耽搁了，他的信根本就没送到罗密欧手中。神父只好亲自带上铁锹和提灯来到墓地，打算把朱丽叶从幽禁她的坟墓里解救出来。但是当他来到墓地，吃惊地发现凯普莱特家的坟墓里正亮着灯光，他还在坟墓旁边发现有剑和血迹，而死去的罗密欧和帕里斯已双双倒在墓旁，没了气息。

没等神父弄明白这件不幸的事是怎么发生的。这时，朱丽叶从恍惚中清醒过来，一眼看见了身边的神父，她回忆起自己呆的这个地方以及为何呆在这里，便问神父罗密欧在哪儿？就在这个时候，神父听到外面有动静，便示意朱丽叶赶快离开这死亡和不祥的眠床。神父想，一定有一种无法抗拒的力量左右着他们，彻底打碎了他们的梦想。受到来人说话声的惊吓，神父赶紧逃走了。此时，朱丽叶一眼看见了她爱人手中攥着杯子，她猜想，一定是毒药结束了罗密欧的生命，如果那杯子里还有残留的药液，她一定将它饮个干净。她吻了吻罗密欧依然温热的嘴唇，试图舔干挂在他嘴唇上的药滴。她听到来人的声音越来越近了，迅速拔出随身带的匕首刺向自己，她的身体倒在她真心爱恋的罗密欧身旁。

守夜人及时赶来了。原来，随帕里斯来的仆人目睹了主人与罗密欧的打斗，慌忙跑去报告守夜人，消息便在市民中传开了，维罗纳大街上来来往往的人口中都在大声喊着：“帕里斯！罗密欧！朱丽叶！”直到嘈杂声传到睡梦中的老蒙太古和老凯普莱特床边，嘈杂声也同时惊醒了大公，他起身想弄明白究竟发生了什么事。就在这时，神父被几个守夜人抓到了，他正从墓地里走出来，浑身发抖，连连叹息，流泪不止，令人心疑。众人聚集在凯普莱特家的墓地，大公要求神父陈述他所知道的关于这件离奇的悲惨事件的原委。

当着老蒙太古和老凯普莱特的面，神父如实讲述了他们的孩子命里注定的爱情，他促成他们二人结婚，诚指望以这样的结合来结束两家的宿仇。在这儿，死去的罗密欧就是朱丽叶的丈夫，死去的朱丽叶就是罗密欧忠诚的妻子。在他能够找到一个合适的时机公开他们的婚姻之前，不想另一桩亲事又为朱丽叶安排下了，为了避免犯下重婚罪，朱丽叶（在他的建议下）吞下了安眠药，让所有人以为她已死去。这期间，他给罗密欧写了一封信，让他回来，在药劲儿过去后将朱丽叶从坟地带走，不巧的是，送信的人又误了事，他根本没把信送到罗密欧手中。后来的事情他就不大清楚了。他原想亲自来墓地将朱丽叶解救出去，可是当他赶到的时候，他发现了已经死去的帕里斯伯爵和罗密欧。接着，帕里斯的仆人讲述了整个事件中神父有所不知的情节，因为他目睹了帕里斯与罗密欧的打斗场面。大公又从跟罗密欧一道来自曼图亚的仆人那里得知，罗密欧交给他仆人一封信，吩咐说，如果他死了，就将信送去给他的父亲，那信里的内容印证了神父的话，他坦言自己与朱叶丽的婚姻，恳求父母原谅，他还承认自己是从一个贫穷的卖药人那里买了毒药，来到墓地，打算跟朱丽叶死在一起。所有这些事实一起洗刷了神父的嫌疑，他不再被怀疑一手操纵了这个可悲的残杀场面，他的本意是好的，却无意中带来了恶果，要怪也只能怪他采取的办法太玄妙了。

大公转向二位老勋爵，蒙太古和凯普莱特，谴责他们残酷而丧失理性的敌意，指出上天对他们相互敌视的报应，便是通过他们的孩子的爱情去惩罚他们人为的仇恨。两位老对手不再是敌人，答应把他们长期的冲突埋藏在孩子的坟墓里。老凯普莱特请求老蒙太古把手给他，并对老蒙太古以兄弟相称，好像通过年轻一代的凯普莱特和蒙太古的结合而使两个家族联姻一样，他说，他们的和好就算是给他的女儿唯一的遗产吧。而老蒙太古说，他能给予他的还要更多，因为他打算为她铸一个纯金塑像，只要维罗纳城的名字永存，就没有什么比朱丽叶的塑像更美好，更精致。作为回报，老凯普莱特说，他也将另铸一座罗密欧的金像。二位老勋爵就这样争着表达对对方的谦恭，可惜这样的场面来得太迟了。从前他们的憎恨和敌对是那么势不两立，直到两个孩子好端端地死去，才得以铲除两个贵族之间相互仇恨和嫉妒的根，他们的孩子成了两家争斗和纠纷的可怜的牺牲品。

哈姆雷特

丹麦王后格特露德在先王哈姆雷特驾崩后成了寡妇，先王死后不到两个月，她就嫁给了先王的弟弟克劳狄斯，这种举动可谓轻率、薄情，令人生厌，公众对此一片哗然。因为，克劳狄斯在为人和性情上与她前夫相去甚远，他的性情就像他的外表一样卑劣。人们怀疑很有可能就是克劳狄斯秘密地杀死了他哥哥哈姆雷特先王，用杀夫夺妻的办法登上国王宝座，而将已故国王的儿子、合法的王位继承者小哈姆雷特排斥在一边。

可是最受不了王后这般轻率举动的是年轻的王子。他几乎偶像般地热爱和崇拜死去的父亲，父亲是他的荣耀和几近完美的楷模，而他母亲格特露德的行为却令他伤心。事情到了这种地步，王子只能一边为父亲的死去忧伤，一边为母亲的婚姻而感到耻辱，因为他脸上整日阴云密布，人们再也看不到他欢乐和俊美的脸庞。往常沉浸于书卷中的乐趣也被他抛弃了，属于年轻人的高雅运动也不再合他的意，他变得厌世，世界对于他就像一片杂草丛生的花园，一切美丽的花朵都被窒息而死，除了蔓生的野草，什么也没有。他的忧郁倒不是因为被排除在王位之外，尽管这对于一个年轻气盛的王子来说，无异于痛苦的创伤和痛心的侮辱，但是，他把灵魂看得比法定继承权还重，严重伤害他并夺走他全部快乐的，是他母亲对父亲所表现出来的薄情。一位多么伟大的父亲！一位多么恩爱、温和的丈夫！格特露德曾经一度是钟情、温顺的妻子，她依傍着他，仿佛她的爱情只朝着他生长。然而现在，不足两个月的工夫，她就出嫁了，并且嫁给了他叔叔，她亲爱的丈夫的弟弟，这种密切的亲戚关系，使这桩婚姻从本质上讲既不合情，也不合法，而他母亲却显得迫不及待地跟这个不适合国王身份的男人缔结了婚姻，她选择那个人做了她的王位与床第的共享者。正是这件事，让可敬的王子难过，真比失去大片封疆国土还痛心，为此，阴云始终笼罩在他的头顶上。

不管母亲格特露德或者国王如何想方设法使哈姆雷特高兴，所有的努力都是徒劳的。他始终穿一身丧服出入宫廷，为他父亲的死服丧，他从没把这丧服搁置起来，即使在他母亲结婚那天，在那可耻的一天，所有的宴会、欢庆，他一概拒绝参加。

最令他苦恼的是，他对父亲的死因半信半疑。据克劳狄斯说，是一个阴险的家伙杀害了老哈姆雷特，但是年轻的哈姆雷特怀疑克劳狄斯本人就是那个阴险的人。说得明白点，正是克劳狄斯为了王位而谋害了他父亲，而这个杀了父亲的阴险人物现在坐在了王位上。

他的推测到底有多少成把握？他应该如何看待他母亲，她与谋杀有多大关联，是事先得到过她的同意，还是她什么也不知道？事情虽然已经过去了，但是他头脑中的疑虑一刻也没有停止过。

小哈姆雷特听到了关于幽灵的传闻。接连两三个夜晚，在宫殿前面的平台上值班的士兵，在午夜时分看见了一个人影，酷似死去的国王——他的父亲。那个不断出现的影子，从头到脚全副武装地穿着金属甲胄，正是先王生前穿过的那套战服。目睹影子的人——哈姆雷特的好朋友霍拉旭就是其中的一个，他们谈到影子出现的时间和情况是一致的，影子在午夜十二点的钟声敲响时出现，他面色苍白，表情悲伤胜过愤怒，他的胡须斑白，像镀过银的紫貂皮，跟他活着时他们所见的一样，当他们向他问话的时候，他不予回答。只有一次，他们认为他抬起头来做出开口讲话的样子，但就在这个时候，司晨的公鸡叫起来，他赶快缩回去，从他们的视线中消失了。

小王子对他们的叙述感到奇怪，他们谈得有头有尾使他不得不相信，他猜测，他们看见的影子正是他父亲的幽灵，他决定当夜跟哨兵一块儿去守夜，也许有幸亲眼看看那影子。他想，影子不会徒然出现，除非父亲的灵魂有什么事情想向世人透露，尽管影子直到现在还保持沉默，但是他迟早会对自己说点什么。这样想着，哈姆雷特急切地等待夜晚降临。

夜，终于来了。哈姆雷特跟霍拉旭以及另一个警卫玛塞勒斯，站在守夜的平台上。据说，幻影通常就是在那儿出现，并来回走动。那是个异常寒冷的夜晚，寒风阴森刺骨，哈姆雷特、霍拉旭以及另外的同伴正在谈论夜晚的坏天气，这时，霍拉旭突然打断他们的谈话，他宣布：幽灵来了！

当亲眼看到父亲的幽灵时，哈姆雷特既震惊又恐惧。他先呼唤诸天神保佑自己，因为他尚且不知那影子到底是神灵还是妖魔，也不知他的来意是好是坏。但是慢慢地，他的胆子越来越大。他父亲（在他看来那就是他的父亲）慈悲地看着他，好像想跟他说话的样子，从各方面都像他活着时一样。小哈姆雷特于是这样呼唤：“哈姆雷特，先王，父亲！”王子祈求父亲说出他为什么离开坟墓，他们曾亲眼看见父亲被安放在坟墓里，可是为什么又来到世上光顾这人间和月光；他祈求父亲让他知道，他们是否可以做点什么，以使他的灵魂获得安宁。那幽灵向王子招了招手，示意他跟随他到僻静的地方，他们可以单独呆一会儿。霍拉旭和玛塞勒斯想劝王子别跟他去，他们担心，万一那是个邪恶的魔鬼，会把他引诱到附近的大海或者可怕的悬崖上，在那换上一副狰狞可怕的面目，使王子吓疯。但是无论他们怎样劝说和恳求，都不能改变王子的决心，他将生命置之度外，以至于一点也不担心它会失去；至于他的灵魂，他说，既然它本身就是不朽的，又能损失什么呢？此时的他，觉得自己就像狮子一样勇敢，他从阻拦他的同伴中挣脱出来，跟着幽灵去了。

当王子和幽灵单独在一起的时候，幽灵打破沉默，告诉王子，他就是老哈姆雷特、他的父亲，他被残忍地谋杀了。接着，幽灵详细讲述了自己被谋杀的过程。正像哈姆雷特早已怀疑到的，事情正是他弟弟克劳狄斯、王子小哈姆雷特的叔叔干的，目的是为了霸占他的床榻和王冠。那天午后，当他照例在花园里午睡的时候，他那叛逆的弟弟偷偷溜了进来，向他的耳朵里灌注了天仙子的毒汁，这种东西与人的生命誓不两立，它像水银一样快速漫延，流经他身体里的所有血脉，把血液烘干，整个皮肤上立刻布满了麻疯病一样的疹泡。就这样，在沉沉的睡眠中，他被弟弟一下子夺去了王冠、王后乃至生命。老哈姆雷特恳请小哈姆雷特，要是他确实爱他的父亲，就应该向这种邪恶的谋杀复仇。幽灵对儿子哀叹他母亲的堕落，从贞洁的妻子到对前夫爱情的不忠，进而跟谋杀前夫的凶手结合。但是他告诫小哈姆雷特，无论他怎样对邪恶的叔叔复仇，都绝不能伤害他的母亲，而要把她留给天神惩罚，让生长在良心中的荆棘去刺痛她自己吧。小哈姆雷特答应一定记住幽灵所说的一切，于是幽灵消失了。

留下哈姆雷特一个人站在那儿，他庄严地决定，将记忆中一切来自书本或生活经验的琐碎的东西抹去，除了记住幽灵嘱托他去做的事情，其余的什么也别想住进他的脑子里。哈姆雷特只向他最信赖的朋友霍拉旭讲述了与幽灵谈话的细节，他嘱咐霍拉旭和玛塞勒斯二人，对今夜所看到的一切严格保密。

会见幽灵的恐怖留在了哈姆雷特的印象中，起初他显得软弱而沮丧，几乎就要精神崩溃、失去理智了。他担心这种情况持续下去，很可能引起叔叔的戒心，为免叔叔怀疑自己正在琢磨对付他，或者发现自己对父亲的死因了解得比他公开宣布的多。哈姆雷特下了一个奇怪的决定，决心从此装疯扮傻，他想，这样的话，他就不再是一个可疑的对象了，他叔叔将相信他不可能有什么图谋，而且在神经错乱的假相掩盖下，他内心真正的不安倒可以掩盖起来了。

从此，哈姆雷特假装成疯子的样子，着装、说话、举止，一概变得不可思议。他这个疯子装得像极了，国王和王后都信以为真，但是他们并不认为他父亲的死是导致他悲伤过度而发疯的唯一理由，因为他们还不知道幽灵出现的事，他们推断哈姆雷特的病是害了单相思，并且认为他们已经发现了目标。

在哈姆雷特没有变成前面提到的那般忧郁之前，他曾深深地爱着一位美丽的姑娘，她叫奥菲丽娅，是波乐纽斯的女儿。波乐纽斯是处理国家事务的一位重要的御前大臣。哈姆雷特曾经给奥菲丽娅写过信和送过戒指，以示他温柔的爱情，并用时髦的方式向她求爱，而奥菲丽娅也相信他的誓言和请求。但是哈姆雷特最近的忧郁使他怠慢了奥菲丽娅，从他开始装疯卖傻起，他故意用不近人情的态度和鲁莽的行为对待奥菲丽娅。善良的奥菲丽娅小姐一点也不责备哈姆雷特对自己的冷淡，她自我安慰说，他只是患了精神障碍罢了，虽然哈姆雷特不像从前那样关心自己，但那绝不等于少情寡义。她想起他从前那些高贵无尚的品格和卓越的智慧，而今，这一切都被压抑着深深的忧郁削弱了，仿佛能奏出优美音乐的银铃，失去了往日和谐的乐音，发出刺耳的响声，或者是被粗暴地摇动而产生一种吵得让人厌烦的噪音。

对于哈姆雷特来说，眼下他正着手为父亲的死复仇。在这个节骨眼儿上，恋爱已显得不合时宜，或者可以说，眼下不容许他悠闲地谈情说爱。不过，仍不免温柔地想念奥菲丽娅，当他想到自己对这位温柔的姑娘的无礼太不近情理，便给她写了一封措词十分亲热的情书，很符合他装疯的情形，言语中却混合着柔情蜜意，他不得不把自己的爱情显示给这位高贵的小姐，因为他在心底里深深地爱着她。他在信中对奥菲丽娅说，你可以怀疑星辰发光，怀疑太阳运行，怀疑真理会说谎话，但是决不能怀疑他哈姆雷特的爱情。奥菲丽娅将这封信老老实实地交给她的父亲波乐纽斯，而这位老臣私下里兴奋地把信的内容传达给了国王和王后，因为，国王和王后一开始就猜测哈姆雷特发疯的真实原因来自爱情。王后希望，但愿善良美丽的奥菲丽娅是导致他发疯的理由，因为这样的话，她相信奥菲丽娅的美德一定能恰到好处地使哈姆雷特恢复常态，从而使两个年轻人同受尊荣。

但是哈姆雷特的“病”比他母亲想象的要严重得多，不是这样就能治愈的。父亲的幽灵不时出现在他头脑里，他只有完成复仇行动，才能告慰父亲的亡灵，他自己也才能够获得安宁。拖延的每一个钟点对于他都是一种违抗父命的罪过。然而，国王身边每时每刻都有侍卫保护着，要想杀死国王不是一件容易的事。或者，即使侍卫不在身边，他的母亲，王后也在场，她通常跟国王呆在一起，母亲是他行动的障碍，他很难突破这个障碍。再者说，他计划谋杀的篡位者如今已成为他母亲的丈夫，这种特殊关系使他内心充满了怜悯，以至于迟迟不忍心下手。对于像哈姆雷特这样性情温和的人，如果让一个不相干的人一同送死，这样的事既令他不安，也让他觉得可怕。长久的忧郁，以及一直以来沮丧的情绪，使哈姆雷特犹豫不决，他的意志开始摇摆使他迟迟没有采取行动。同时，他内心也很踌躇。他见到的幽灵真是他的父亲，还是个魔鬼呢？他听说幽灵有能力以他高兴的任何形式出现，如果幽灵是个魔鬼的话，他也可以假装成他父亲的样子，趁他内心虚弱，精神抑郁，驱使他去做杀人这种不顾一切的举动。这样想着，哈姆雷特决定找出比幻象或想象更为可靠的证据，以免这仅仅是出于一时的错觉。

正在哈姆雷特犹豫不决的时候，一个戏班子来到宫廷。哈姆雷特以前就喜欢听戏，尤其乐意听他们中的一个戏子用悲剧性的台词描述特洛伊国王老普里阿摩斯的死，以及他的王后赫卡柏的忧伤。哈姆雷特欢迎他的老朋友——那些戏子们，回忆起那些台词在从前如何给他带来快乐，就请求戏子将那台词复述给他。戏子便绘声绘色地念起台词来，讲到衰弱的老国王如何被杀，他的人民和城邦毁于大火，老王后悲痛欲狂，赤脚在宫殿里跑来跑去，头上缠着一块破布，代替了原先的冠冕，腰间只裹着一条匆忙中抓起的毯子，代替了王室的礼服。这场戏表演得如此生动以至于不但在场观看的人都流下眼泪，以为他们看到的是真实的场景，那戏子本人在讲述的过程中也伴随着嘶哑的嗓音和真诚的泪水。这情景让哈姆雷特想到，即使一个戏子也能为虚构的情节所打动，为一个从未见过的人流泪，为赫卡柏，一个已经死去几百年的人流泪。而他自己是多么的迟钝！他拥有真正应该痛苦的理由和动机，一位现实中的国王，一位被谋害的亲爱的父亲，然而他自己的感动是那样少，使整个复仇计划几乎在呆滞和迷惘的健忘中昏睡过去。他想到表演者和他们上演的戏剧，想到一部好剧本对于表现生活的作用以及对于观众产生的巨大影响，他还记起一些杀人犯的例子，杀人犯看见舞台上表演杀人的场面，仅仅受到那样的场景和相似的环境影响，便当场招供出所犯下的罪行。他决定应该让这些戏子们把他父亲遇害的情节编排一下，演给他的叔叔看，到时候他将细心观察这出戏可能给叔叔带来什么样的影响，从他的表情变化，他将能够切实判断出他到底是不是杀人犯。带着这种意图，他让戏子们做了精心准备，并邀请了国王和王后前来看戏。

戏中的故事讲的是维也纳一公爵遇害的事。公爵的名字叫贡扎果，他妻子叫芭普蒂丝妲。剧情再现：公爵的近亲，一个叫路西安纳斯的人，如何为了篡夺家产，将公爵毒死在他的花园里，又是如何在杀人案发生后不久，得到了贡扎果妻子的爱情。

国王并不知道戏中的情节是为他设置的圈套，国王携王后和所有宫廷大臣们前来看戏。为了观察国王的表情，哈姆雷特有意坐在他身边。这出戏以贡扎果和他妻子的一段对白开始，其中，那位夫人立下了许多爱情誓言，她发誓，如果她的寿命比贡扎果长，她决不嫁给第二个丈夫，如果她再嫁了，她情愿受尽诅咒，并声称，除非是杀死亲夫的邪恶的娼妇，没有正派的女人会那样做。在这段戏文进行当中，哈姆莱特观察着国王他叔叔脸色的变化，他发现国王和王后的表情一样懊恼不堪。根据剧情的发展，路西安纳斯来到花园给熟睡中的贡扎果下毒，这个情节与国王，即先王之弟的邪恶举动惊人相似，克劳狄斯曾经就是这样在花园里给他哥哥下毒的。篡位者的良心受到了极大的刺激，以至于不能安坐着继续看戏，他忽然喊人点上火把回宫，装作（也许一部分是真的）得了急病，便唐突地离开了剧场。国王一走，戏也就结束了。现在，哈姆莱特满意地看到，幽灵的话实属真实，而非幻觉。在一阵喧闹中，哈姆雷特心中的疑惑和犹豫顿然消失了，他对霍拉旭发誓说，鬼魂的话一点儿也不假。现在，他确实弄清楚了，他叔叔就是杀害父亲的凶手。就在他还没决定好怎样去报仇以前，王后，哈姆雷特的母亲派人来找哈姆雷特，说想要跟他在她的密室里谈谈。

王后派人找哈姆雷特，是国王的意思。他想让王后提醒她的儿子，他最近的行为使他们有多么不愉快。国王想了解王后与儿子谈话的全部内容，他担心王后因偏袒儿子，可能隐瞒一些话，而那也许正是他想要知道的。就这样，御前老臣波乐纽斯，受国王之命躲在王后密室的帷幕后面，那个地方，别人看不见他，他却可以真切地听到谈话的全部内容。这种计谋非常符合波乐纽斯的性格，他是个在做人和处理国家事务上一向油滑的人，他巴不得用间接、诡诈的方式了解事件内幕。

哈姆雷特来见母亲，母亲开始很婉转地责备他的言行举止，她告诉他，他已经极大地伤害了“他的父亲”，也就是国王——他的叔叔。她有意称克劳狄斯是哈姆雷特的父亲，因为这个人已经娶了她。对此，哈姆雷特非常愤怒，他不想让母亲把“父亲”这种亲切、可敬的称呼给予一个卑鄙的人，一个甚至是杀害了他真正的父亲的凶手。他严厉地反驳道：

“母亲，是您大大地伤害了‘我的父亲’。”

王后说，他的回答总是瞎扯。

“不，你这样问我就该这样回答。”哈姆雷特说。

王后问哈姆雷特是否忘记了他此刻与之谈话的人是谁。

“唉！”哈姆雷特叹道，“我要是能够忘记就好了。您是王后，您丈夫的弟弟的妻子，也是我的母亲，而我但愿您不是！”

“啊，不，”王后说，“既然你对我这样不敬，我愿意叫会说话的人跟你说话。”说着，她就起身要去叫国王或波乐纽斯。

但是哈姆雷特不让她走，在他确信他的话能否让她意识到自己的堕落生活前，他想让她跟他单独在一起。他抓住她的手腕，牢牢地控制住她，让她重新坐下来。母亲被他的认真劲儿给吓住了，唯恐他在神经失常的状态下会伤害到自己，于是就大喊大叫起来。王后的喊声惊动了帷幕后面的人，“救命啊，救王后的命啊！”哈姆雷特听见里面喊，他认定是国王本人隐藏在那儿，拔出宝剑朝声音传来的地方刺去，就像刺中了一只打那儿跑过的老鼠一样，喊叫声顿时停止了，不用说，哈姆雷特结果了那个人的命。但是当他上前拖起尸体时，发现那人并不是国王，而是波乐纽斯，年老而好管闲事的大臣，他居然像个侦探似的躲藏在帷幕的后面。

“噢，我的天！”王后惊叫道，“你干了一件多么鲁莽而血腥的事！”

“一件血腥的事？母亲，”哈姆雷特回答，“可是还没你坏呢，你杀死了国王，接着嫁给他的弟弟。”

哈姆雷特干脆一不做二不休。他打算直截了当地跟母亲说，也这么做了。尽管作为孩子，对待父母的缺点应多多包涵，然而在犯了严重罪过的情况下，儿子对母亲讲话的口气就无情得多了，只要那种无情是为了她好，为了把她从邪恶的路上拉回来，而不单单为了谴责。眼下，善良的王子用打动人心的话语向王后陈述她所犯下的罪是多么丑恶，她对死去的国王、他父亲的健忘，因为在那么短的时间里，她就嫁给了他弟弟，一个凶手。她曾对自己的前夫发过誓，可现在却做出这种事情，足以使一切女人的海誓山盟变得不可置信，而一切美德都被认为是伪善的，结婚的宣誓还不如赌徒发誓，信仰则仅仅成为玩笑和空话。他说，他母亲所做的这桩事，让老天都感到脸红，让脚下的大地愁容满面。接着，他给王后看两张画像，一幅画的是已故的国王，她的前夫，另一幅是眼下的国王，她的第二任丈夫，他让她注意他们之间有什么不同。他父亲的面貌多么高贵，简直就像一位天神！他有着阿波罗似的卷发，朱庇特的前额，玛尔斯的眼睛，他的身姿像刚刚落在摩天的高峰上的墨丘利神！这样的男人便是她的前夫，他说。接着他给她看取代前夫的另一个男人，他看起来多么像枯萎病或霉菌病！都是因为他害死了强壮的兄长。哈姆雷特的话使王后的眼睛窥视到自己的灵魂，她发现自己是那么灰暗和丑陋！哈姆雷特问王后，你怎么能跟这么一个人继续生活在一起并作为他的妻子呢？这个人杀死了你的前夫，像个窃贼一样用不光彩的手段盗取了王冠！就在哈姆雷特说这番话的时候，他父亲的幽灵——跟活在他记忆里以及他最近看见的一样，进入了房间。哈姆雷特惊恐地问幽灵为何来此。幽灵说，他来提醒哈姆雷特答应下的复仇的事，因为哈姆雷特似乎把这事给忘了。幽灵让哈姆雷特跟他母亲讲话，因为忧伤和恐惧也可能致她于死地。然后它就消失了。幽灵的影子只有哈姆雷特看得见，无论他指出幽灵站的地方，还是描绘他的样子，他母亲都不能感知到他的存在，整个过程中，她只是胆怯地听到哈姆雷特对着空气讲话（至少在她看来是这样的），为此她把这归咎于哈姆雷特的神经错乱。哈姆雷特祈求母亲，不要用这样的方式替自己的邪恶灵魂寻找安慰，这都是因为她自己的罪过，而使他父亲的幽灵再次现身于世，而不是由于他的发疯。他让母亲摸摸他的脉搏，他的脉搏跳动得多么平和，完全不像一个疯子。他含泪祈求母亲，对上帝忏悔过去，并发誓离开国王，不再做他的妻子。如果有一天她做得还像个母亲的样子，就像父亲在世时记得的那样，他愿意作为一个儿子祝福她。王后答应照他说的去做，他们的谈话便到此结束了。

哈姆雷特开始从容地安顿被他失手杀死的波乐纽斯，他深爱着的奥菲丽娅的父亲，他拖走他的尸体，这时候，他的心神也镇定了一些，他为自己所做的事流下了眼泪。

波乐纽斯的不幸身亡，成为国王送哈姆雷特出国的借口。他巴不得将哈姆雷特处死，免得他的存在对他构成威胁，但是他又惧怕民众，那些爱戴哈姆雷特的人，以及王后，尽管她做了许多错事，但她仍然宠爱着王子，她的儿子。狡猾的国王以给哈姆雷特提供安全为借口，以此避免为波乐纽斯的死受罚，把他安排在一艘驶往英格兰的船上，交给两个朝臣照料，并派他们给英格兰国王捎一封信。当时的英格兰臣服于丹麦，并向丹麦进贡。他在信中假借某个特殊理由，要求英王在哈姆雷特踏上英格兰的土地后立刻将他处死。哈姆雷特觉察到事情不妙，当晚秘密地弄到了那封信，巧妙地抹去信上他自己的名字，而换上了那两个朝臣的名字，让他们代他送死，然后把信封好，重新放回原处。不久后，他们所乘的船遭到海盗袭击，一场恶斗发生了，在打斗中，哈姆雷特有意显出非常勇敢的样子，他手持宝剑独自跳上了海盗船，而他自己原先乘坐的船被海盗吓跑了，丢下哈姆雷特任由其命运沉浮。而那两个朝臣顺利地到达了英格兰，由于受到哈姆雷特修改过的那封信的指控，他们得到了应有的下场。

俘虏了王子的海盗们表现得很友好，他们深知他们捉到的是什么人，他们希望王子能从宫中给他们带来实惠，以回报他们对他的关照。他们把他放在最近的一个丹麦港口放他上了岸。在那儿，哈姆雷特给国王写了一封信，告诉他，因为某种意外的缘故他被带回他自己的国家，并说，明日他将前来拜谒陛下。哈姆雷特到家后，一个意想不到的悲伤场面呈现在他眼前。

那是年轻美貌的奥菲丽娅、他曾经深爱的情人的葬礼。这位年轻姑娘的神志，自从她可怜的父亲死后就不正常了。因为父亲暴死在她所爱的王子手下，这个性情柔弱的姑娘承受不了打击，不久就疯了，她到处跑来跑去把鲜花分送给宫中的女孩子，说那些花都是为她父亲的葬礼准备的，她还时常唱一些关于爱和死亡的歌，有时她的话让人感到莫名其妙，好像再也记不起在她身上曾经发生过的事情。有一棵柳树歪斜着长在溪水边，枝叶倒映在水面上。有一天，她在别人不注意的时候来到溪边，头上戴着她自己做的花冠，那花冠由雏菊和荨麻编织而成，花和野草混杂在一起，当她爬上柳树，往树枝上挂她的花冠时，树枝突然折断了，她自己连同花冠以及采集的野花一同掉进水里，她的衣裙托着她在水面上飘浮了一会儿，那时她还断断续续地唱着古老的圣歌，好像一点也不觉得自己遇到了不幸，或者好像她自己原本就生长在水中一样。但是不久，她的衣裙因为浸水而变得沉重起来，把她从曼妙的歌声中拖进淤泥里。奥菲丽娅就这样悲惨地死了。当哈姆雷特赶到的时候，美丽的奥菲丽亚的哥哥莱昂提斯正在为妹妹举行葬礼，国王、王后，以及整个王宫里的大臣们都到场了。哈姆雷特并不知道这场葬礼是什么，他站在一边，不想去妨碍葬礼的仪式。按照埋葬未婚女孩子的习俗，他看见大把大把的鲜花撒在她的坟墓上。王后亲自撒下鲜花，当她撒花时，她说：

“好花送给好人儿！我原想用鲜花装饰你的婚床，却不想把鲜花撒在了你的坟上。我本来指望你嫁给我的哈姆雷特。”

哈姆雷特听见她哥哥祝愿她的坟墓上开出紫罗兰。接着，他看见她哥哥忧伤得近乎发疯般地跳进坟墓，他吩咐侍从用土像山一样把他埋住，那样的话，他就可以跟他的妹妹葬在一起了。哈姆雷特对奥菲丽娅的爱情重新回到记忆里，他不能忍受一个做哥哥的表现出这么强烈的悲痛，因为在他看来，他对奥菲丽娅的爱情就算有四万个哥哥的爱也抵不上。这样想着，他自己便跳进了莱昂提斯站着的坟墓里，像他一样发疯，或者说比他更甚。莱昂提斯认出他是哈姆雷特，父亲和妹妹的死都是由他引起，他像对待敌人一样抓住哈姆雷特的喉咙，跟他格斗，直到众人将他们拉开。葬礼过后，哈姆雷特为自己跳进坟墓的鲁莽举动向莱昂提斯道歉，但是他强调说，他不能忍受任何人对奥菲丽娅的死表现出比他自己更悲痛。到此，两个高贵的青年似乎和解了。

但是，莱昂提斯仍处在为父亲和妹妹不幸死去的悲愤中。哈姆雷特的坏叔叔企图杀死哈姆雷特，于是他怂恿莱昂提斯，以友好与和解为名，提议让莱昂提斯与哈姆雷特比剑术。哈姆雷特欣然答应了，并定下了比剑的日子。

比剑的这天，所有宫廷大臣们都来观战，国王事先指使莱昂提斯预备一柄涂过毒药的剑。赛场上，朝臣们纷纷打赌输赢，因为哈姆雷特和莱昂提斯两人都是精通剑术之人。哈姆雷特拿起剑，随意选了一把，他根本没怀疑莱昂提斯会有什么诡计，也没仔细检查莱昂提斯使用的武器。按照比赛规则，两人都应使用薄剑或钝剑，而莱昂提斯使用的竟是一把带尖的剑，而且剑尖上涂了毒药。一开始，莱昂提斯只是玩儿似的陪哈姆雷特过招，并容忍哈姆雷特先占了上风。国王假装不知情，极力夸耀和赞美哈姆雷特，为他的成功喝彩干杯，并为比赛结果下了大赌注。但是过了几个回合，莱昂提斯开始变凶，用他的带毒的剑奋力刺中哈姆雷特，给了他致命一击。哈姆雷特被激怒了，但他对这场阴谋一无所知，就在混战中以自己的无毒的剑换过莱昂提斯的致人于死地的毒剑，并回了莱昂提斯一剑，这样莱昂提斯就中了自己的奸计。就在这时，人们突然听到王后尖叫着说她自己中毒了，因为她无意中饮下了国王为哈姆雷特预备的毒酒。为了确保哈姆雷特的死，阴险的国王往一只酒杯里下了致命的毒药，他原打算如果在比赛中莱昂提斯失利，他将提意为哈姆雷特举杯祝贺，并使他饮下那杯毒酒，而国王却忘了警告王后别去碰那个杯子。此时，王后已喝了那杯中物，瞬间倒地身亡，用最后一口气发出那声惨叫。哈姆雷特察觉到其中的阴谋，他下令把大门关上，以便查出元凶。莱昂提斯告诉他不用查了，因为他自己就是同谋。他同时感觉到自己的生命正从哈姆雷特刺中他的伤口里溜走，他承认了自己的奸计，同时也自认自己也成了这个奸计的受害者。他告诉哈姆雷特，剑尖上涂了毒药，并说哈姆雷特的生命已经不会超过半个钟头了，世上没有什么解药能够治愈他，他祈求哈姆雷特的原谅。他最后说，整个阴谋的策划者正是国王，说完便死了。哈姆雷特感觉到死亡的临近，而手中的剑上还残留着毒液，他突然转向他的无情无义的叔叔，一剑刺进他的心脏，以此履行了他对幽灵的承诺。现在，幽灵托付哈姆雷特办的事情完成了，哈姆雷特的杀父之仇已报。此时的哈姆雷特感到呼吸急促，生命正在离他而去，他的目光转向他亲爱的朋友霍拉旭——整个悲剧的见证者，他用剩下的最后一口气请求霍拉旭活着把他的故事原原本本地讲给世人听（因为霍拉旭作出了一个似乎想以自杀来陪伴他的动作），霍拉旭答应他一定把真相如实讲出来。

带着满意的笑容，哈姆雷特那颗高贵的心停止了跳动。霍拉旭与周围在场的人，含泪祈求天使保护王子的灵魂。因为，哈姆雷特是一位可爱而温和的王子，他高贵的君主品质深受人们的爱戴，如果他活着，将被证明是丹麦最英明、最完美的君主。

奥赛罗

勃拉班修是威尼斯一位富有的元老，他有个美丽温柔的女儿，名叫苔丝狄蒙娜。因为在她身上集中了许多好姑娘的美好品质，而且她将来会非常富有，很多爱慕者都追求她。但是，当地的追求者中没有一个男子能打动她，因为这位高贵的姑娘注重男人的精神方面胜过看重他们的外表，正是怀着这种与众不同的想法，她选择了她父亲经常邀请来家里作客的一位摩尔人，名叫奥赛罗的皮肤黝黑的男子，做她的终生伴侣。

苔丝狄蒙娜选择这样一位貌不惊人的男人做丈夫，并没什么可指责的。因为，奥赛罗除了人长得黑以外，其他方面都配得到这位高贵小姐的爱情。他是位军人，而且是位勇敢的军人，凭借他与土尔其人作战的表现，现在他已晋升为威尼斯军队里的一名将军，并受到国民的尊敬和信赖。

奥赛罗是一个旅行家，苔丝狄蒙娜很爱听他讲述他的那些冒险经历（女孩子们通常都是这样），那些冒险充满了他早年的回忆。战争、围攻，以及所经受的会战；陆地与海上的风险；枪林弹雨中千钧一发的死里逃生；还有，如何被傲慢的敌人俘虏，卖为奴隶，在敌国屈尊自贱，又如何逃跑。所有这一切，加上他在异国他乡所见所闻的那些离奇古怪的事情，辽阔的荒原，奇特的洞窟、石穴、岩石，高耸入云的山脉；人吃人的野蛮部落，脑袋长在肩膀下面的非洲异民。这些旅行者的传奇故事，牢牢拴住了苔丝狄蒙娜的耳朵，以至于无论什么时候当家务需要她去料理时，她都抓紧时间，忙完了赶紧回来，如饥似渴地倾听奥赛罗的谈话。有一次，在一个适当的时机，苔丝狄蒙娜向奥赛罗提出了请求，想请他讲述他全部的传奇经历，因为她此前虽然听了那么多，但她听到的还只是一鳞半爪。奥赛罗答应了她。当奥赛罗讲到他年轻时遭遇的一次又一次不幸时，善良的苔丝狄蒙娜总是不停地流泪。

奥赛罗的故事讲完了，苔丝狄蒙娜为他所遭受的痛苦发出长长的叹息。她发了一个很巧的誓，要是这些离奇而悲惨的事她没有听到就好了，但是她又希望上帝为她造就出这样的男人。她感谢奥赛罗，并婉转地对他说，如果他有一个爱她的朋友，他只要教这位朋友如何讲述他的故事，便可以得到她的爱情了。这样的暗示已经足够表明苔丝狄蒙娜的心迹。她的脸上呈现出令人着迷的可爱的羞涩，对此，奥赛罗怎么会看不出来呢？于是奥赛罗真心诚意地向苔丝狄蒙娜求爱，在这样一个绝好的时机得到了苔丝狄蒙娜小姐慷慨允诺，答应私下里嫁给奥赛罗。

身为女婿，奥赛罗既没有勃拉班修所希望的相貌，也没有与之相匹配的财富。尽管他给了女儿婚姻上的自由，但是他打心眼里希望女儿能像威尼斯上流社会的小姐们那样，在宫廷中选择一位有身份有地位的人做丈夫，可他怎么也没想到，结果令他非常失望。苔丝狄蒙娜爱上了那个摩尔人，他长得皮肤黝黑，她却全身心地为他的勇敢和人品倾倒，她温柔的心是那样深爱着自己选定的丈夫。奥赛罗奇特的肤色，几乎每一个有辨别力的女子都认为那是不可逾越的障碍，而在苔丝狄蒙娜眼里，他远比那些皮肤白皙光洁的威尼斯年轻求爱者更可爱。

虽然苔丝狄蒙娜和奥赛罗两人结为夫妻是一个秘密，可天下没有不透风的墙。他们的婚姻到底还是传到了老勃拉班修的耳朵里，在元老院一次庄严的会议上，勃拉班修作为原告，控告摩尔人奥赛罗，称他利用符咒和魔法诱使美丽的苔丝狄蒙娜爱上他，并且在没得到她父亲同意的情况下，不顾国人的规矩嫁给了他。

刚好在这个节骨眼儿上，威尼斯正急需奥赛罗为国效力。有信使来报，土耳其人已经集结了一支强大的舰队，正向塞浦路斯岛迂回挺进，企图从威尼斯人手里夺回那个重要的岛屿。塞浦路斯岛当时由威尼斯人掌管。危急关头，所有人的目光都指向奥赛罗，只有他被公认为是执行塞浦路斯防务、击退土耳其人的最佳人选。因此，在这次元老会上，奥赛罗被召来了，此时的他，既作为一个捍卫国家的主帅候选人，又作为一个被指控触犯了威尼斯法律的犯人，站在元老们面前。

庄严的元老会上，勃拉班修以他的资历和元老会议员的身份，要求各位耐心倾听他的陈述。这位愤怒的父亲声色俱厉的谴责控诉，一点儿也不冷静，并举出一些迹象和疑点作证据。当奥赛罗站出来为自己辩护时，他不得不讲述关于自己爱情的一段简单经过。他用朴实而有说服力的语言，讲述了他求爱的整个过程，正如我们上面提到的那样。他的语言是那么文雅，逻辑是那么清晰，以至于作为主审官的公爵也表示，即使是他自己的女儿听了这样的故事也会给迷上的。奥赛罗在求爱中所用的符咒和魔法，只不过是男人的一种坦诚的求爱艺术，他的魔法仅仅是发挥了他讲故事的才能，从而俘获了苔丝狄蒙娜小姐的心。

苔丝狄蒙娜也在法庭上发表了证词，证实奥赛罗的陈述全部属实，并表示，她不会忘记父亲对自己生养和教育的恩德，然而她不能顺从父亲的承命，因为作为妻子，她要对她的主人和丈夫尽更高的义务，就像她母亲对勃拉班修所做的那样，把他看得比她自己的父亲更重。

于是，可怜的老元老不再坚持他的请求，他满怀伤感地招呼摩尔人奥赛罗，把女儿托付给他，并说，要不是他已经得到了他女儿，他一定不会让她落到他手里。他又说，幸亏他自己没有别的女儿，否则苔丝狄蒙娜的行为将教会他成为一个暴君，将给她们带上脚枷，绝不允许别的女儿再跟男人私奔。

难题总算解决了。对于奥赛罗，艰苦的征战生涯已属习以为常，就像别人吃饭睡觉一样自然，他欣然地接受了镇守塞浦路斯岛的任务。苔丝狄蒙娜更愿意他的丈夫去建立功勋（尽管那样很危险），但不想像其他新婚那样闲来无事，打发时光，她欣然同意跟他去出征。

奥赛罗和夫人一踏上塞浦路斯岛，就接到消息，一场不可抗拒的风暴使土耳其舰队溃不成军。就这样，塞浦路斯岛被入侵的忧虑瞬间烟消云散。但是，奥赛罗经历的“战争”才刚刚开始，那些蓄谋挑起事端，玷污他夫人清白的敌人，比起那些异邦的侵略者来更要命。

在奥赛罗所有的朋友当中，没有一个人比凯西奥更令他完全信赖。迈克尔·凯西奥是位年轻的军官，一个佛罗伦萨人，他乐观、热情，很会说话，天性受到女人们特别的喜爱。他英俊潇洒，又能言善辩，像他这样的人，也最容易引起比他年长而娶了年轻漂亮妻子的人嫉妒（比如，像奥赛罗这样的男人）。但是奥赛罗凭借自己的高贵人格，对凯西奥既不嫉妒也不猜疑。当初，奥赛罗跟苔丝狄蒙娜恋爱的时候，他曾请求凯西奥在他们两人中间穿针引线，因为奥赛罗担心自己跟苔丝狄蒙娜聊天不足以使她开心，他发现朋友凯西奥身上有这方面的天赋，就常常委托凯西奥代他向苔丝狄蒙娜求爱。这种单纯坦率的性格正是这个勇敢的摩尔人性格上的荣耀，而不是缺陷。因此，不用说奥赛罗本人，即使是苔丝狄蒙娜也很喜欢并信赖他，这对恋人结婚后对凯西奥的态度也没有什么改变。凯西奥经常出入他们的家，他跟奥赛罗说话一向坦率、活泼，尽管奥赛罗是个比较严肃的人，而凯西奥这种说话方式却一点不使他厌恶，反而你会经常发现，他们二人在一起非常开心，因为这会使他们减少一些过分的压抑。苔丝狄蒙娜也会跟凯西奥在一起说说笑笑，就像当年他替他的朋友去求婚时一样。

最近，奥赛罗提拔凯西奥当上了中尉，他对他更加信赖了，两人的关系也越发亲密。凯西奥的晋升对埃古是个不小的打击，他是个比较年长的军官，他认为自己比凯西奥更有资格受到重用。因为嫉妒，他经常嘲弄凯西奥只适合陪伴那些小姐太太们，而对于战争策略或排兵布阵，还不如一个姑娘知道得多。埃古憎恨凯西奥，也憎恨奥赛罗，一半是因为他过于偏爱凯西奥，另一半则源于无根据的猜疑，他认为奥赛罗，这个摩尔人看上了他的妻子伊米莉亚。在这些假想的缠绕下，埃古设计出一个可怕的报复方案，那就是设法将凯西奥、摩尔人奥赛罗和苔丝狄蒙娜三人搅和在一起，然后让他们一同毁灭。

埃古是个狡猾的家伙，他对人性有着非常深入的研究，深知在困扰男人内心的一切痛苦（远超过肉体上的拷打）中嫉妒是最无法忍受也最能刺痛人的。假如他能成功地使奥赛罗对凯西奥产生嫉妒心，那将是一项最高明的报复计划，最终导致的后果可能不是凯西奥死，就是奥赛罗死，或者两人同归于尽。总之，他才不在乎呢。

主帅和夫人到了塞浦路斯，加上敌人的船队溃败的消息，岛上就像过节一样，让人人都尽情地玩乐。在晚宴上，所有人的杯中都斟满了葡萄酒，人们频频举杯，为主帅奥赛罗和美丽的夫人苔丝狄蒙娜的健康干杯。

当晚，由凯西奥负责督察守夜，奥赛罗吩咐他查看那些士兵，以防士兵们喝了太多的酒，滋生事端，扰乱岛上居民的安宁，或者让居民对新来的陆军反感。

这天夜晚，埃古则开始实施他精心策划的恶毒计划。他打着对主帅忠诚爱戴的幌子，怂恿凯西奥饮酒祝兴（这是值班军官的一大禁忌）。对此，凯西奥一再推辞，可埃古懂得该怎样说服他。凯西奥终于拗不过埃古的软磨硬泡，开始一杯接一杯地饮酒，埃古一边劝酒一边用饮酒歌鼓动他干杯。凯西奥被敬了一杯又一杯，口无遮拦地道出苔丝狄蒙娜是天底下最最美丽动人的女郎。直到最后，从他嘴巴里钻进去的敌人将他的心窍迷住。接着，埃古又怂恿一个家伙对凯西奥挑衅，使两人拔剑相向，这时，一位叫蒙太诺的很有名的军官出面干预，平息事端，却不想在混战中被刺伤了。于是，导致骚乱升级。埃古趁机着手进行他的恶作剧，他第一个把事情散布出去，并拉响城堡的警铃（似乎发生了危险的兵变，而不是发生了通常的酒后滋事）。警铃的响声吵醒了奥赛罗，他匆忙穿上衣裳，来到事发现场，询问凯西奥事情经过。

此时的凯西奥已经恢复了理智，酒精的作用正在消退，然而他实在羞于回答主帅的询问。奥赛罗坚持要了解事实真相，埃古装出一副既不愿意谴责凯西奥，又迫于奥赛罗的坚持的样子，说出了全部事情的来龙去脉，却省略了他自己在这件事上的所作所为。而凯西奥因为醉酒，也早已记不清了。就这样，埃古假装对凯西奥的过错轻描淡写，事实上起的作用远远超过事情本身的严重程度。结果，依照严肃的军纪，奥赛罗不得已撤了凯西奥的副将职务。

到此，埃古的第一个伎俩圆满成功了，他现在已经毁掉了他的竞争对手的前程，把他从副将的位置上推了下去。尔后，他将利用这个灾难性的夜晚，进一步实施他的冒险行动。

眼下，可怜的凯西奥彻底清醒和冷静下来，他向虚伪的“朋友”埃古唉叹自己的不幸，悔恨自己不该糊涂到跟个畜生一般。埃古劝他，何不请求主帅恢复他的职位？凯西奥对埃古说，我是一个酒鬼，主帅已经瞧不起我了。埃古的安慰再次燃起他心中的希望，他对他说，任何一个人在某种场合免不了多喝几杯，遇到逆境应该泰然自若才是。并说，主帅夫人现在才是我们真正的主帅，奥赛罗愿意为她做任何事情。所以，你最好去请苔丝狄蒙娜夫人修补你与她丈夫之间的裂痕。她是一位非常慷慨仁慈、性格温顺的夫人，一定非常乐意担当此任，让你官复原职，重新赢得主帅的好感，并使你们之间的关系比从前还要牢固。假如不是出于不久后就暴露出来的恶意，埃古的这个建议还真是不错。

凯西奥便照着埃古的建议做了，他去请苔丝狄蒙娜夫人从中撮合。苔丝狄蒙娜是个很容易为忠诚打动的人，她答应凯西奥，愿意做他的辩护人去说服她丈夫，并且表示，她这个辩护人宁死也不会放弃他的托付。

苔丝狄蒙娜立刻着手履行承诺，她是那么热情又可爱的人儿，以至于奥赛罗——被凯西奥重重冒犯的人，也不能拒绝她。但是，就这样原谅一个触犯军纪的人也未免太快了，他要求缓一缓。对此，苔丝狄蒙娜一点不打算让步，她一再坚持说，那就明天晚上吧，要么后天早晨，最迟到大后天早晨。苔丝狄蒙娜还向丈夫描绘了凯西奥如何为自己的行为而懊悔，如何谦卑地请求主帅的原谅，况且他的过失也不值得受到这么严厉的惩罚。尽管夫人这么说，奥赛罗却仍然显得犹豫不决，于是苔丝狄蒙娜催促道：

“噢，亲爱的。为凯西奥辩护，您需要我费如此多的口舌吗？当初迈克尔·凯西奥替您向我求婚，当我表示对您的不满时，他总是为您说好话。我现在提到这个，仅仅为了求您答应我这件小事。要是我想试探试探您对我的爱，我就会拿一件非常难办的事情求您了。”

对于这样一个求情者，奥赛罗什么也不能拒绝。他只求苔丝狄蒙娜给他些时间，并答应她，重新启用迈克尔·凯西奥作为他恩宠的部下。

不巧，当奥赛罗和埃古来到苔丝狄蒙娜的房前，正赶上来哀求她代为求情的凯西奥从对面的门走出去。埃古非常富于表演才能地压低声音，仿佛自言自语地说：“我可不喜欢这样子。”当时，奥赛罗并没太在意他的话。随后当他跟夫人一起讨论事情时也把这话给忘了，但后来又想了起来。因为当苔丝狄蒙娜走开以后，埃古好像很很想满足自己的好奇似的，询问奥赛罗，当他向夫人求爱时，凯西奥是否知道他的恋爱。对此，主帅给予了肯定的回答。还说，不仅如此，在他求爱期间，凯西奥经常在他和苔丝狄蒙娜之间往来穿梭，牵线搭桥。埃古拧紧眉毛，似乎在某种可怕的事件中发现了什么微妙的东西，他叫道，“是真的？”他这一问，让奥赛罗想起，就在刚才，当看见凯西奥和苔丝狄蒙娜待在一起，埃古曾说过的那句话。奥赛罗开始怀疑埃古的这些话里是否有什么特别的意思，因为在他的印象里，埃古一向是个正直的人，他很有爱心，也很诚实，一个恶棍吞吞吐吐必是心怀鬼胎，可一个天性诚恳的人这样必是有什么严重的事说不出口。奥赛罗乞求埃古讲出他所知道的一切，就算是用最糟的字眼讲出来也没关系。

“主帅，您让我吐露我的思想吗？”埃古说，“哪一座庄严的宫殿里，不会闯入些下贱的东西呢？哪一个人纯洁的心胸里，没有一些污秽的念头存在呢？”他接着说，要是由于他自己过于敏感的毛病而给奥赛罗带来烦恼，那就太不应该了。又说，要是他把他脑子里想的说出来，说不定会破坏他的安宁。况且，一个人的好名声也不该因为微不足道的猜疑被夺走。这种暗示和闪烁其辞的话语，更加唤起奥赛罗的好奇心。然而，埃古似乎真心诚意地关心奥赛罗内心的宁静，他提醒奥赛罗要当心嫉妒。埃古正是用这种巧妙的方法，引起没有防备的奥赛罗的疑心，同时为了谨慎起见，他假装反对奥赛罗的猜疑。

“我知道，”奥赛罗说，“我的妻子很美，她喜欢交际，口才敏慧，能歌善舞。要问一个贤淑的女子她的美德在哪里，我要说，我妻子的这些品质就是一个贤淑女子的全部美德。除非我亲眼所见，否则我决不会怀疑她的不忠。”

奥赛罗并未急于相信夫人给予他的伤害，对此，埃古好像很高兴。他坦率地宣布，他没有证据，但是却又恳请奥赛罗留心观察夫人的行为，尤其是对凯西奥的态度。不要盲目猜疑，可也不能完全不放在心上，因为他本人比奥赛罗更了解意大利女人，了解他们本国的娘们儿的性情。在威尼斯，女人背着丈夫干下的丑事是瞒不过上天的。然后，他含沙射影地指出，苔丝狄蒙娜在嫁给奥赛罗的这件事上欺骗了她父亲，而且做得丝毫不露声色，让可怜的老人以为是你使用魔法把她骗走了。奥赛罗为埃古的这番话所打动，那天，他是带着疑问回到家中的，他想，既然苔丝狄蒙娜能欺骗她的父亲，有什么不可以欺骗她的丈夫呢？

埃古请求奥赛罗原谅他使他受了刺激。奥赛罗假装不往心里去，而内心里却非常痛苦，他请求埃古继续讲下去，埃古答应了，却假装满怀歉意的样子，好像他打心眼里不愿意看到有对凯西奥不利的事情发生，他口口声声称凯西奥是他的朋友。接着他肯定地指出并提醒奥赛罗，苔丝狄蒙娜曾经如何拒绝了跟她般配的众多求爱者，他们与她同国族、同肤色，而她却毅然决定嫁给了您，一个摩尔人，这就足见她的反常性情，同时也证明了她的任性。一旦苔丝狄蒙娜清醒过来，就有可能开始拿您跟那些容貌英俊、皮肤白皙、年轻力壮的意大利同胞做比较。最后，埃古建议奥赛罗将恢复凯西奥官职的事再往后放一放，与此同时，留心观察苔丝狄蒙娜对凯西奥的事情如何热衷，那样的话，一些迹象就会暴露出来。狡猾的埃古如此不怀好意地布下了局，用他的计谋把清白无罪的苔丝狄蒙娜高贵的人品彻底给毁了，他利用她的仁慈设下陷阱，引诱她上套，那便是，先诱劝凯西奥去求夫人为他说情，再利用她的说情设计陷害她。

最后，埃古假装恳求奥赛罗，在没有确凿证据之前，要把尊夫人看成一个清白无罪的人。奥赛罗答应他，他会忍耐的。到此他们谈话结束了。但是从那一刻起，受了欺骗的奥赛罗内心里就再也没有品尝到安宁。不管是罂粟，曼陀罗草汁，还是世上的一切安眠药，都不再使他恢复昨夜香甜的睡眠。他的军人职业也使他感到腻烦。他不再因战争而兴奋。过去他一看见军队、战旗、铠甲，精神总会为之振奋，一听见击鼓、吹喇叭或者战马的嘶鸣，就会兴奋得跳起来，现在好像所有作为一个军人的自豪感和雄心都离他而去，对军事研究的热情和早先的一切乐趣也全都被他抛弃了。有时候他在想他的妻子是贞洁的，有时候又觉得她不贞洁；有时候他认为埃古是诚实的，有时候又认为他不诚实。他恨不得从来就没听说过妻子不贞这回事。只要他不晓得，即便她爱上了凯西奥，也对他没啥害处。这些乱七八糟的想法把他的心撕得粉碎。有一次，他掐住埃古的脖子向他索要苔丝狄蒙娜与人私通的证据，并威吓他说，如果他故意毁坏她的名誉就叫他立刻送死。埃古装出一副为自己的诚实遭受冤枉而义愤填膺的样子，他问奥赛罗，最近你有没有见到夫人的手上有一条绣着草莓花样的手帕？奥赛罗回答说，他是送给过她这么一条手帕，那是他给她的第一件礼物。

埃古说：“同样的一条手帕，我今天看见迈克尔·凯西奥拿着它揩脸。”

“如果真像你说的，”奥赛罗说，“我要不立刻杀了他们，便难平心头之恨。第一件事，为了表明你的忠诚，我希望三天之内别再让我听到凯西奥还活在世上。至于那个美丽的魔鬼（意指他的夫人），我回去会另为她找一个一命归天的办法。”

像空气一样轻的小事，也会让猜疑跟圣旨一样不可抗拒。苔丝狄蒙娜的手帕果然被发现攥在凯西奥的手上，这个事实足以蛊惑奥赛罗杀死他们二人，然而在他作出决定之前，居然不去询问凯西奥是怎么得到这条手帕的。事实上，苔丝狄蒙娜从未给过凯西奥这样一件礼物，这位忠贞的夫人也从没将她丈夫送给她的礼物转送给别人。凯西奥和苔丝狄蒙娜两人都没做过任何冒犯奥赛罗的事情，全都是因为恶毒的埃古，他的灵魄从来没有停止制造邪恶，他让自己的妻子（一个心眼不坏，但心肠软弱的女人）从苔丝狄蒙娜家里偷来她的手帕，再把这个手帕丢在凯西奥的必经之路上，他发现手帕后自然而然地将它拾起来。于是，埃古就有了一个口实，暗示奥赛罗说，那是苔丝狄蒙娜送给凯西奥的礼物。

奥赛罗见到夫人后不久，他假装头痛（也可能就是真的），让苔丝狄蒙娜把她的手帕借给他来扎太阳穴。她把手帕递给他。

“不是这个，”奥赛罗说，“是我送给你的那条。”

苔丝狄蒙娜四处寻找不到那条手帕（正如前面提到的那样，它已经被人偷走了）。

“怎么会找不到呢？”奥赛罗说，“你这可是犯了大错了。那条手帕是一个埃及女人送给我母亲的。那埃及女人是个女巫，她能洞察人心，他告诉我母亲，只有当母亲保存着这方手帕的时候，它才可以保证她非常可爱，而我的父亲也就会一直爱着她；相反，假如把手帕弄丢了或者送给了别人，我父亲的心就会发生转变，他对母亲的厌恶就会像曾经对她的爱一样强烈。母亲在临死前，把这手帕给了我，她嘱咐我说，如果我结婚了，就把它送给我的妻子。我遵照她的意思把手帕给了你，你应该格外小心地保管好才是，要像珍惜你的眼睛一样珍惜它。”

“你说的会是真的吗？”夫人吃惊地问。

“当然是真的，”奥赛罗接着说道，“那是一方不可思议的手帕，那个女巫在这个世上活了二百岁，她是在发疯般的魔咒中织成这方手帕的，用来制成丝绸的蚕丝也不是凡尘的蚕所吐，而印染丝绸的染料提取自一个处女木乃伊的心脏。”

苔丝狄蒙娜听到这个手帕有如此神奇的魔力，吓得要死，因为她明知道自己把手帕给弄丢了，她害怕丈夫因此真的不爱她了。奥赛罗开始死死地盯着她看，好像正准备作出什么鲁莽的事情来，他坚持要看看那方手帕，而她却没办法把手帕拿出来。她试图把丈夫的注意力从过于严肃的话题上转移到别的事情上去，她告诉他，她发现他围绕手帕说的那些话，只不过是想搪塞她为迈克尔·凯西奥讲情。她不知趣地继续夸奖凯西奥（正如埃古预言的），直到奥赛罗发疯般地冲出房间，她才开始怀疑丈夫的嫉妒心，尽管她本来不愿意这么想。

苔丝狄蒙娜不知道是什么原因引得他如此这般。她责备自己不该抱怨高贵的奥赛罗。她想，也许是来自威尼斯的坏消息，或是什么国家大事情搅得他心神不宁，让他的脾气不像从前那么好了。她自言自语说，“男人不是神，不应该期待他总像新婚之夜那样对妻子温存。”她骂自己真是该死，不应该往坏的地方去想他。

奥赛罗和苔丝狄蒙娜再次见面，他责骂妻子不贞，说她公然爱上了另一个男人，并为此伤心落泪。但是他闭口不提那个人的名字。苔丝狄蒙娜劝慰道，“唉，不幸的日子！你为什么哭呢？”奥赛罗告诉她，他能够忍受各种各样的不幸，贫穷、疾病、耻辱，全都无所谓，但是她的不贞却令他心碎。他称她作杂草，看起来那么美丽，闻起来那么香甜，可是就是让人感到心痛。又说，但愿她从来就没生在这个世界上。说完，他愤然离去。清白无辜的夫人木讷地坐着，她奇怪丈夫怎么对她如此无端猜疑，她感到一阵头晕，真想让沉重的睡眠把自己淹没。她让仆人给她把床铺好，躺在自己新婚的被褥上，可怜见地说，小孩子做错了事情，大人们总是用温和而宽容的态度责罚他们，奥赛罗也应该这样责罚自己，当自己受到责罚的时候，只是个应该受到责罚的孩子。这便是这位温柔的夫人对丈夫全部的抱怨。

苔丝狄蒙娜躺在卧房里，她期待丈夫很快也会进来的。不久，她就陷入了沉沉的睡眠之中，那正是她心神烦累的结果。这时，奥赛罗走进卧房，他的心里满是冥思苦想后的黑暗，他已下定决心要除掉他的夫人。但是，当他看见她熟睡的样子，便想，他真不忍心让她血溅衾枕，也不忍割破她雪白的肌肤，她的肌肤比凝脂还要洁白。然而他已决心让苔丝狄蒙娜去死，用他的话说，要是她活着，一定还会去背叛别的人。他最后一次亲吻了她，那一吻竟是是那么香甜，让他禁不住又吻了一下。他流下了眼泪，但是，他宁愿称那是无情的眼泪。

他的亲吻使苔丝狄蒙娜从沉睡中醒来，她一眼看见奥赛罗，看见他咬着下唇，眼珠滚动，她意识到他的表情意味着不幸的事情就要发生了。这时，她听到奥赛罗命令她准备去死吧，并叫她向上帝祈祷，因为他不打算伤害她的灵魂。无辜的妻子哀求他发发慈悲，并肯求他让她知道自己究竟犯了什么错。于是，奥赛罗吐出了凯西奥的名字，“那方手帕”，他说，“就是你送给了他。”无辜的妻子正要澄清自己的清白，可奥赛罗已经不想再听她说什么了，他突然用被子将她捂住，直到她窒息而死。

就在这时，受了伤的凯西奥血淋淋地被人带了进来，是埃古指使手下人对他暗中下了毒手。但那个企图杀死凯西奥的家伙没有成功（凯西奥虽然受了重伤，但还不至于丧命），埃古将他刺死，以便杀人灭口。在那人的口袋里发现了一封信，信中清楚地写着埃古的罪行和凯西奥的清白。一切终于真相大白。眼下，凯西奥前来请求奥赛罗的原谅，同时也为了责问他，自己究竟什么地方冒犯了他，而使他竟然雇用埃古谋害他。

这个发现像一声惊雷将奥赛罗震醒，现在，他清楚地意识到他自己跟一个凶手没什么两样，而他的妻子（可怜的清白无辜的夫人）始终对他挚爱无欺。可悲的结局令奥赛罗痛不欲生，他索性拔剑自刎，让自己的身体倒在已死去的亲爱的夫人身上，不久也死去了。

奥赛罗的一连串鲁莽举动令人们大为惊骇。他曾经拥有很高的名望，却不幸被坏人用计谋一步步引向歧途。他的高贵品格永远不容置疑，他是一个挚爱多情的丈夫，却偏偏爱得不够明智，爱到了糊里糊涂的地步，他那双男子汉的眼睛尽管不习惯在微不足道的场合流泪，可为了爱情却像阿拉伯人的橡胶树一样流淌不止。他死后，人们仍然记得他从前的种种好处，记得他在战场上的勇猛无畏。眼下，他的继任者要办的第一件事，就是用无情的法律严惩埃古，让他在严酷的刑罚下接受死刑。与此同时，派人向威尼斯政府送去声名远播的将军奥赛罗的令人惋惜的死讯。

Tales from Shakespeare Preface

The following Tales are meant to be submitted to the young reader as an introduction to the study of Shakespeare， for which purpose his words are used whenever it seemed possible to bring them in; and in whatever has been added to give them the regular form of a connected story， diligent are has been taken to select such words as might least interrupt the effect of the beautiful English tongue in which he wrote: therefore， words introduced into our language since his time have been as far as possible avoided.

In those tales which have been taken from the Tragedies， the young readers will perceive， when they come to see the source from which these stories are derived， that Shakespeare's own words， with little alteration， recur very frequently in the narrative as well as in the dialogue; but in those made from the Comedies the writers found themselves scarcely ever able to turn his words into the narrative form: therefore it is feared that， in them， dialogue has been made use of too frequently for young people not accustomed to the dramatic form of writing.But this fault， if it be a fault， has been caused by an earnest wish to give as much of Shakespeare's own words as possible: and if the “He said，”and “She said，”the question and the reply， should sometimes seem tedious to their young ears， they must pardon it， because it was the only way in which could be given to them a few hints and little foretastes of the great pleasure which awaits them in their elder years， when they come to the rich treasures from which these small and valueless coins are extracted; pretending to no other merit than as faint and imperfect stamps of Shakespeare's matchless image.Faint and imperfect images they must be called， because the beauty of his language is too frequently destroyed by the necessity of changing many of his excellent words into words far less expressive of his true sense， to make it read something like prose; and even in some few places， where his blank verse is given unaltered， as hoping from its simple plainness to cheat the young reader into the belief that they are reading prose， yet still his language being transplanted from its own natural soil and wild poetic garden， it must want much of its native beauty.

It has been wished to make these Tales easy reading for very young children.To the utmost of their ability the writers have constantly kept this in mind; but the subjects of most of them made this a very difficult task.It was no easy matter to give the histories of men and women in terms familiar to the apprehension of a very young mind.For young ladies too， it has been the intention chiefly to write; because boys being generally permitted the use of their fathers' libraries at a much earlier age than girls are， they frequently have the best scenes of Shakespeare by heart， before their sisters are permitted to look into this manly book; and， therefore， instead of recommending these Tales to the perusal of young gentlemen who can read them so much better in the originals， their kind assistance is rather requested in explaining to their sisters such parts as are hardest for them to understand: and when they have helped them to get over the difficulties， then perhaps they will read to them （carefully selecting what is proper for a young sister's ear） some passage which has pleased them in one of these stories， in the very words of the scene from which it is taken; and it is hoped they will find that the beautiful extracts， the select passages， they may choose to give their sisters in this way will be much better relished and understood from their having some notion of the general story from one of these imperfect abridgments; which if they be fortunately so done as to prove delightful to any of the young readers， it is hoped that no worse effect will result than to make them wish themselves a little older， that they may be allowed to read the Plays at full length （such a wish will be neither peevish nor irrational）.When time and leave of judicious friends shall put them into their hands， they will discover in such of them as are here abridged （not to mention almost as many more， which are left untouched） many surprising events and turns of fortune， which for their infinite variety could not be contained in this little book， besides a world of sprightly and cheerful characters， both men and women， the humour of which it was feared would be lost if it were attempted to reduce the length of them.

What these Tales shall have been to the young readers， that and much more it is the writers' wish that the true Plays of Shakespeare may prove to them in older years—enrichers of the fancy， strengtheners of virtue， a withdrawing from all selfish and mercenary thoughts， a lesson of all sweet and honourable thoughts and actions， to teach courtesy， benignity， generosity， humanity: for of examples， teaching these virtues， his pages are full.

The Tempest

There was a certain island in the sea， the only inhabitants of which were an old man， whose name was Prospero， and his daughter Miranda， a very beautiful young lady.She came to this island so young that she had no memory of having seen any other human face than her father's.

They lived in a cave or cell， made out of a rock; it was divided into several apartments， one of which Prospero called his study There he kept his books， which chiefly treated of magic， a study at that time much affected by all learned men; and the knowledge of this art he found very useful to him; for being thrown by a strange chance upon this island， which had been enchanted by a witch called Sycorax， who died there a short time before his arrival， Prospero， by virtue of his art， released many good spirits that Sycorax had imprisoned in the bodies of large trees， because they had refused to execute her wicked commands.These gentle spirits were ever after obedient to the will of Prospero.Of these， Ariel was the chief.

The lively little sprite Ariel had nothing mischievous in his nature， except that he took rather too much pleasure in tormenting an ugly monster called Caliban， for he owed him a grudge because he was the son of his old enemy Sycorax.This Caliban Prospero found in the woods， a strange， misshapen thing， far less human in form than an ape; he took him home to his cell and taught him to speak; and Prospero would have been very kind to him， but the bad nature which Caliban inherited from his mother Sycorax would not let him learn anything good or useful; therefore he was employed like a slave， to fetch wood and do the most laborious offices; and Ariel had the charge of compelling him to these services.

When Caliban was lazy and neglected his work， Ariel （who was invisible to all eyes but Prospero's） would come slyly and pinch him， and sometimes tumble him down in the mire; and then Ariel， in the likeness of an ape， would make mouths at him.Then swiftly changing his shape， in the likeness of a hedgehog he would lie tumbling in Caliban's way， who feared the hedgehog's sharp quills would prick his bare feet.With a variety of such like vexatious tricks Ariel would often torment him whenever Caliban neglected the work which Prospero commanded him to do.

Having these powerful spirits obedient to his will， Prospero could by their means command the winds and the waves of the sea.By his orders they raised a violent storm， in the midst of which， and struggling with the wild sea-waves that every moment threatened to swallow it up， he showed his daughter a fine large ship， which he told her was full of living beings like themselves.“O my dear father，”said she， “if by your art you have raised this dreadful storm， have pity on their sad distress.See! the vessel will be dashed to pieces.Poor souls! they will all perish.If I had power， I would sink the sea beneath the earth， rather than the good ship should be destroyed， with all the precious souls within her.”

“Be not so amazed， daughter Miranda，”said Prospero; “there is no harm done.I have so ordered it that no person in the ship shall receive any hurt.What I have done has been in care of you， my dear child.You are ignorant who you are or where you came from， and you know no more of me but that I am your father， and live in this poor cave.Can you remember a time before you came to this cell? I think you cannot， for you were not then three years of age.”

“Certainly I can， sir，”replied Miranda.

“By what?”asked Prospero; “by any other house or person? Tell me what you can remember， my child.”

Miranda said: “It seems to me like the recollection of a dream.But had I not once four or five women who attended upon me?”

Prospero answered: “You had， and more.How is it that this still lives in your mind? Do you remember how you came here?”

“No， sir，”said Miranda， “I remember nothing more.”

“Twelve years ago， Miranda，”continued Prospero， “I was duke of Milan， and you were a princess， and my only heir.I had a younger brother， whose name was Antonio， to whom I trusted everything; and as I was fond of retirement and deep study， I commonly left the management of my state affairs to your uncle， my false brother （for so indeed he proved）.I， neglecting all worldly ends， buried among my books， did dedicate my whole time to the bettering of my mind.My brother Antonio being thus in possession of my power， began to think himself the duke indeed.The opportunity I gave him of making himself popular among my subjects awakened in his bad nature a proud ambition to deprive me of my dukedom; this he soon effected with the aid of the king of Naples， a powerful prince， who was my enemy.”

“Wherefore，”said Miranda， “did they not that hour destroy us?”

“My child，”answered her father， “they durst not， so dear was the love that my people bore me.Antonio carried us on board a ship， and when we were some leagues out at sea， he forced us into a small boat， without either tackle， sail， or mast; there he left us， as he thought， to perish.But a kind lord of my court， one Gonzalo， who loved me， had privately placed in the boat water， provisions， apparel， and some books which I prize above my dukedom.”

“O my father，”said Miranda， “what a trouble must I have been to you then!”

“No， my love，”said Prospero， “you were a little cherub that did preserve me.Your innocent smiles made me to bear up against my misfortunes.Our food lasted till we landed on this desert island， since when my chief delight has been in teaching you， Miranda， and well have you profited by my instructions.”

“Heaven thank you， my dear father，”said Miranda “Now pray tell me， sir， your reason for raising this sea-storm”

“Know，then，”said her father， “that by means of this storm my enemies， the king of Naples and my cruel brother， are cast ashore upon this island.”

Having so said， Prospero gently touched his daughter with his magic wand， and she fell fast asleep; for the spirit Ariel just then presented himself before his master， to give an account of the tempest， and how he had disposed of the ship's company; and though the spirits were always invisible to Miranda， Prospero did not choose she should hear him holding converse （as would seem to her） with the empty air.

“Well， my brave spirit，”said Prospero to Ariel， “how have you performed your task?”

Ariel gave a lively description of the storm， and of the terrors of the mariners; and how the king's son， Ferdinand， was the first who leaped into the sea; and his father thought he saw his dear son swallowed up by the waves and lost.“But he is safe，”said Ariel， “in a corner of the isle， sitting with his arms folded， sadly lamenting the loss of the king， his father， whom he concludes drowned.Not a hair of his head is injured， and his princely garments， though drenched in the sea-waves， look fresher than before.”

“That's my delicate Ariel，”said Prospero.“Bring him hither; my daughter must see this young prince.Where is the king and my brother?”

“I left them，”answered Ariel， “searching for Ferdinand， whom they have little hopes of finding， thinking they saw him perish.Of the ship's crew not one is missing， though each one thinks himself the only one saved; and the ship， though invisible to them， is safe in the harbor.”

“Ariel，”said Prospero， “the charge is faithfully performed: but there is more work yet.”

“Is there more work?”said Ariel.“Let me remind you， master， you have promised me my liberty.I pray， remember， I have done you worthy service， told you no lies， made no mistakes， served you without grudge or grumbling.”

“How now?”said Prospero.“You do not recollect what a torment I freed you from.Have you forgot the wicked witch Sycorax， who with age and envy was almost bent double? Where was she born? Speak; tell me.”

“Sir， in Algiers，”said Ariel.

“Oh， was she so?”said Prospero.“I must recount what you have been， which I find you do not remember.This bad witch， Sycorax， for her witchcrafts， too terrible to enter human hearing， was banished from Algiers， and here left by the sailors and because you were a spirit too delicate to execute her wicked commands， she shut you up in a tree， where I found you howling.This torment， remember， I did free you from.”

“Pardon me， dear master，”said Ariel， ashamed to seem ungrateful; “I will obey your commands.”

“Do so，”said Prospero， “and I will set you free.”He then gave orders what further he would have him do; and away went Ariel， first to where he had left Ferdinand， and found him still sitting on the grass in the same melancholy posture.

“O my young gentleman，”said Ariel， when he saw him， “I will soon move you.You must be brought， I find， for the Lady Miranda to have a sight of your pretty person.Come， sir， follow me.”He then began singing:

“Full fathom five thy father lies;

Of his bones are coral made;

Those are pearls that were his eyes:

Nothing of him that doth fade

But doth suffer a sea-change

Into something rich and strange.

Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:

Hark， now I hear them，ding-dong-bell.”

This strange news of his lost father soon roused the prince from the stupid fit into which he had fallen.He followed in amazement the sound of Ariel's voice， till it led him to Prospero and Miranda， who were sitting under the shade of a large tree.Now， Miranda had never seen a man before， except her own father.

“Miranda，”said Prospero， “tell me what you are looking at yonder.”

“O father，”said Miranda， in a strange surprise， “surely that is a spirit.Lord! How it looks about! Believe me， sir， it is a beautiful creature.Is it not a spirit?”

“No， girl，”answered her father; “it eats， and sleeps， and has senses such as we have.This young man you see was in the ship.He is somewhat altered by grief， or you might call him a handsome person.He has lost his companions， and is wandering about to find them.”

Miranda， who thought all men had grave faces and gray beards like her father， was delighted with the appearance of this beautiful young prince; and Ferdinand， seeing such a lovely lady in this desert place， and from the strange sounds he had heard expecting nothing but wonders， thought he was upon an enchanted island， and that Miranda was the goddess of the place， and as such he began to address her.

She timidly answered she was no goddess， but a simple maid， and was going to give him an account of herself， when Prospero interrupted her.He was well pleased to find they admired each other， for he plainly perceived they had （as we say） fallen in love at first sight: but to try Ferdinand's constancy， he resolved to throw some difficulties in their way; therefore， advancing forward he addressed the prince with a stern air， telling him he came to the island as a spy， to take it from him who was the lord of it.“Follow me，”said he; “I will tie you neck and feet together.You shall drink sea-water; shell-fish， withered roots， and husks of acorns shall be your food.”“No，”said Ferdinand， “I will resist such entertainment till I see a more powerful enemy，”and drew his sword; but Prospero， waving his magic wand， fixed him to the spot where he stood， so that he had no power to move.

Miranda hung upon her father， saying: “Why are you so ungentle? Have pity， sir; I will be his surety.This is the second man I ever saw， and to me he seems a true one.”

“Silence，”said the father; “one word more will make me chide you， girl! What! an advocate for an impostor! You think there are no more such fine men， having seen only him and Caliban.I tell you， foolish girl， most men as far excel this as he does Caliban.”This he said to prove his daughter's constancy; and she replied: “My affections are most humble.I have no wish to see a goodlier man.”

“Come on， young man，”said Prospero to the prince， “you have no power to disobey me.”

“I have not indeed，”answered Ferdinand; and not knowing that it was by magic he was deprived of all power of resistance， he was astonished to kind himself so strangely compelled to follow Prospero; looking back on Miranda as long as he could see her， he said， as he went after Prospero into the cave: “My spirits are all bound up， as if I were in a dream; but this man's threats and the weakness which I feel would seem light to me if from my prison I might once a day behold this fair maid.”

Prospero kept Ferdinand not long confined within the cell; he soon brought out his prisoner， and set him a severe task to perform， taking care to let his daughter know the hard labor he had imposed on him， and then， pretending to go into his study， he secretly watched them both.

Prospero had commanded Ferdinand to pile up some heavy logs of wood.Kings' sons not being much used to laborious work， Miranda soon after found her lover almost dying with fatigue.“Alas!”said she， “do not work so hard; my father is at his studies， he is safe for these three hours: pray rest yourself.”

“O my dear lady，”said Ferdinand， “I dare not.I must finish my task before I take my rest.”

“If you will sit down，”said Miranda， “I will carry your logs the while.”But this Ferdinand would by no means agree to.Instead of a help， Miranda became a hindrance， for they began a long conversation， so that the business of log-carrying went on very slowly.

Prospero， who had enjoined Ferdinand this task merely as a trial of his love， was not at his books， as his daughter supposed， but was standing by them invisible， to overhear what they said.

Ferdinand inquired her name， which she told， saying it was against her father's express command she did so.

Prospero only smiled at this first instance of his daughter's disobedience， for， having by his magic art caused his daughter to fall in love so suddenly， he was not angry that she showed her love by forgetting to obey his commands.And he listened well pleased to a long speech of Ferdinand's， in which he professed to love her above all the ladies he ever saw.

In answer to his praises of her beauty， which he said exceeded all the women in the world， she replied: “I do not remember the face of any woman， nor have I seen any more men than you， my good friend， and my dear father.How features are abroad I know not; but， believe me， sir， I would not wish any companion in the world but you， nor can my imagination form any shape but yours that I 7ould like.But， sir， I fear I talk to you too freely， and my father's precepts I forget.”

At this Prospero smiled， and nodded his head， as much as to say: “This goes on exactly as I could wish; my girl will be queen of Naples.”

And then Ferdinand， in another fine long speech （for young princes speak in courtly phrases）， told the innocent Miranda he was heir to the crown of Naples， and that she should be his queen.

“Ah! sir，”said she， “I am a fool to weep at what I am glad of.I will answer you in plain and holy innocence.I am your wife if you will marry me.”

Prospero prevented Ferdinand's thanks by appearing visible before them.

“Fear nothing， my child，”said he; “I have overheard and approve of all you have said.And， Ferdinand， if I have too severely used you， I will make you rich amends， by giving you my daughter.All your vexations were but trials of your love， and you have nobly stood the test.Then as my gift， which your true love has worthily purchased， take my daughter， and do not smile that I boast she is above all praise.”He then， telling them that he had business which required his presence， desired they would sit down and talk together till he returned; and this command Miranda seemed not at all disposed to disobey.

When Prospero left them， he called his spirit Ariel， who quickly appeared before him， eager to relate what he had done with Prospero's brother and the king of Naples.Ariel said he had left them almost out of their senses with fear at the strange things he had caused them to see and hear.When fatigued with wandering about， and famished for want of food， he had suddenly set before them a delicious banquet， and then， just as they were going to eat， he appeared visible before them in the shape of a harpy， a voracious monster with wings， and the feast vanished away.Then， to their utter amazement， this seeming harpy spoke to them， reminding them of their cruelty in driving Prospero from his dukedom and leaving him and his infant daughter to perish in the sea; saying， that for this cause these terrors were suffered to afflict them.

The king of Naples， and Antonio the false brother， repented the injustice they had done to Prospero; and Ariel told his master he was certain their penitence was sincere， and that he， though a spirit， could not but pity them.

“Then bring them hither， Ariel，”said Prospero: “If you， who are but a spirit， feel for their distress， shall not I， who am a human being like themselves， have compassion on them? Bring them quickly， my dainty Ariel.”

Ariel soon returned with the king， Antonio， and old Gonzalo in their train， who had followed him， wondering at the wild music he played in the air to draw them on to his master's presence.This Gonzalo was the same who had so kindly provided Prospero formerly with books and provisions， when his wicked brother left him， as he thought， to perish in an open boat in the sea.

Grief and terror had so stupefied their senses that they did not know Prospero.He first discovered himself to the good old Gonzalo， calling him the preserver of his life; and then his brother and the king knew that he was the injured Prospero.

Antonio， with tears and sad words of sorrow and true repentance， implored his brother's forgiveness; and the king expressed his sincere remorse for having assisted Antonio to depose his brother; and Prospero forgave them; and， upon their engaging to restore his dukedom， he said to the king of Naples， “I have a gift in store for you too;”and opening a door， showed him his son Ferdinand playing at chess with Miranda.

Nothing could exceed the joy of the father and the son at this unexpected meeting， for they each thought the other drowned in the storm.

“O wonder!”said Miranda， “what noble creatures these are! It must surely be a brave world that has such people in it.”

The king of Naples was almost as much astonished at the beauty and excellent graces of the young Miranda as his son had been.“Who is this maid?”said he; “she seems the goddess that has parted us， and brought us thus together.”“No， sir，”answered Ferdinand， smiling to find his father had fallen into the same mistake that he had done when he first saw Miranda， “she is a mortal， but by immortal Providence she is mine; I chose her when I could not ask you， my father， for your consent， not thinking you were alive.She is the daughter to this Prospero， who is the famous duke of Milan， of whose renown I have heard so much， but never saw him till now: of him I have received a new life; he has made himself to me a second father， giving me this dear lady.”

“Then I must be her father，”said the king; “but oh! how oddly will it sound， that I must ask my child forgiveness.”

“No more of that，”said Prospero: “let us not remember our troubles past， since they so happily have ended.”And then Prospero embraced his brother， and again assured him of his forgiveness， and said that a wise overruling Providence had permitted that he should be driven from his poor dukedom of Milan， that his daughter might inherit the crown of Naples， for that by their meeting in this desert island it had happened that the king's son had loved Miranda.

These kind words which Prospero spoke， meaning to comfort his brother， so filled Antonio with shame and remorse that he wept and was unable to speak; and the kind old Gonzalo wept to see this joyful reconciliation， and prayed for blessings on the young couple.

Prospero now told them that their ship was safe in the harbor， and the sailors all on board her， and that he and his daughter would accompany them home the next morning.“In the mean time，”says he， “partake of such refreshments as my poor cave affords; and for your evening's entertainment I will relate the history of my life from my first landing in this desert island.”He then called for Caliban to prepare some food and set the cave in order; and the company were astonished at the uncouth form and savage appearance of this ugly monster， who （Prospero said） was the only attendant he had to wait upon him.

Before Prospero left the island， he dismissed Ariel from his service， to the great joy of that lively little spirit; who， though he had been a faithful servant to his master， was always longing to enjoy his free liberty， to wander uncontrolled in the air， like a wild bird， under green trees， among pleasant fruits and sweet-smelling flowers.“My quaint Ariel，”said Prospero to the little sprite when he made him free， “I shall miss you; yet you shall have your freedom.”“Thank you， my dear master，”said Ariel; “but give me leave to attend your ship home with prosperous gales， before you bid farewell to the assistance of your faithful spirit; and then， master， when I am free， how merrily I shall live!”Here Ariel sang this pretty song:

“Where the bee sucks， there suck I;

In a cowslip's bell I lie:

There I couch where owls do cry.

On the bat's back I do fly

After summer merrily.

Merrily， merrily shall I live now

Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.”

Prospero then buried deep in the earth his magical books and wand， for he was resolved never more to make use of the magic art.And having thus overcome his enemies， and being reconciled to his brother and the king of Naples， nothing now remained to complete his happiness but to revisit his native land， to take possession of his dukedom， and to witness the happy nuptials of his daughter and Prince Ferdinand， which the king said should be instantly celebrated with great splendor on their return to Naples.At which place， under the safe convoy of the spirit Ariel， they， after a pleasant voyage， soon arrived.

A Midsummer Night's Dream

There was a law in the city of Athens which gave to its citizens the power of compelling their daughters to marry whomsoever they pleased; for upon a daughter's refusing to marry the man her father had chosen to be her husband， the father was empowered by this law to cause her to be put to death; but as fathers do not often desire the death of their own daughters， even though they do happen to prove a little refractory， this law was seldom or never put in execution， though perhaps the young ladies of that city were not unfrequently threatened by their parents with the terrors of it.

There was one instance， however， of an old man， whose name was Egeus， who actually did come before Theseus （at that time the reigning duke of Athens）， to complain that his daughter Hermia， whom he had commanded to marry Demetrius， a young man of a noble Athenian family， refused to obey him， because she loved another young Athenian， named Lysander.Egeus demanded justice of Theseus， and desired that this cruel law might be put in force against his daughter.

Hermia pleaded， in excuse for her disobedience， that Demetrius had formerly professed love for her dear friend Helena， and that Helena loved Demetrius to distraction; but this honorable reason， which Hermia gave for not obeying her father's command moved not the stern Egeus.

Theseus， though a great and merciful prince， had no power to alter the laws of his country; therefore he could only give Hermia four days to consider of it; and at the end of that time， if she still refused to marry Demetrius， she was to be put to death.

When Hermia was dismissed from the presence of the duke， she went to her lover Lysander， and told him the peril she was in， and that she must either give him up and marry Demetrius， or lose her life in four days.

Lysander was in great affliction at hearing these evil tidings; but recollecting that he had an aunt who lived at some distance from Athens， and that at the place where she lived the cruel law could not be put in force against Hermia （this law not extending beyond the boundaries of the city）， he proposed to Hermia that she should steal out of her father's house that night， and go with him to his aunt's house， where he would marry her.“I will meet you，”said Lysander， “in the wood a few miles without the city; in that delightful wood where we have so often walked with Helena in the pleasant month of May.”

To this proposal Hermia joyfully agreed; and she told no one of her intended flight but her friend Helena.Helena （as maidens will do foolish things for love） very ungenerously resolved to go and tell this to Demetrius， though she could hope no benefit from betraying her friends' secret but the poor pleasure of following her faithless lover to the wood; for she well knew that Demetrius would go thither in pursuit of Hermia.

The wood in which Lysander and Hermia proposed to meet was the favorite haunt of those little beings known by the name of fairies.

Oberon the king， and Titania the queen， of the fairies， and all their tiny train of followers， in this wood held their midnight revels.

Between this little king and queen of sprites there happened， at this time， a sad disagreement; they never met by moonlight in the shady walks of this pleasant wood but they were quarrelling， till all their fairy elves would creep into acorn-cups and hide themselves for fear.

The cause of this unhappy disagreement was Titania's refusing to give Oberon a little changeling boy， whose mother had been Titania's friend; and upon her death the fairy queen stole the child from its nurse， and brought him up in the woods.

The night on which the lovers were to meet in this wood， as Titania was walking with some of her maids of honor， she met Oberon， attended by his train of fairy courtiers.

“I'll met by moonlight， proud Titania，”said the fairy king.The queen replied: “What， jealous Oberon， is it you? Fairies， skip hence; I have forsworn his company.”“Tarry， rash fairy，”said Oberon; “am not I thy lord? Why does Titania cross her Oberon? Give me your little changeling boy to be my page.”

“Set your heart at rest，”answered the queen; “your whole fairy kingdom buys not the boy of me.”She then left her lord in great anger.“Well， go your way，”said Oberon; “before the morning dawns I will torment you for this injury.”

Oberon then sent for Puck， his chief favorite and privy counsellor.

Puck was a shrewd and knavish sprite， that used to play comical pranks in the neighboring villages: sometimes getting into the dairies and skimming the milk， sometimes plunging his light and airy form into the butter-churn， and， while he was dancing his fantastic shape in the churn， in vain the dairy-maid would labor to change her cream into butter.Nor had the village swains any better success; whenever Puck chose to play his freaks in the brewing-copper， the ale was sure to be spoiled.When a few good neighbors were met to drink some comfortable ale together， Puck would jump into the bowl of ale in the likeness of a roasted crab， and， when some old goody was going to drink， he would bob against her lips， and spill the ale over her withered chin; and presently after， when the same old dame was gravely seating herself to tell her neighbors a sad and melancholy story， Puck would slip her three-legged stool from under her， and down toppled the poor old woman， and then the old gossips would hold their sides and laugh at her， and swear they never wasted a merrier hour.

“Come hither， Puck，”said Oberon， to this little merry wanderer of the night; “fetch me the flower which maids call Love in Idleness; the juice of that little purple flower， laid on the eyelids of those who sleep， will make them， when they awake， dote on the first thing they see.Some of the juice of that flower I will drop on the eyelids of my Titania when she is asleep; and the first thing she looks upon when she opens her eyes she will fall in love with， even though it be a lion or a bear， a meddling monkey or a busy ape; and before I will take this charm from off her sight， which I can do with another charm I know of， I will make her give me that boy to be my page.”

Puck， who loved mischief to his heart， was highly diverted with this intended frolic of his master， and ran to seek the flower; and while Oberon was waiting the return of Puck， he observed Demetrius and Helena enter the wood: he overheard Demetrius reproaching Helena for following him， and after many unkind words on his part， and gentle expostulations from Helena reminding him of his former love and professions of true faith to her， he left her （as he said） to the mercy of the wild beasts， and she ran after him as swiftly as she could.

The fairy king， who was always friendly to true lovers， felt great compassion for Helena; and perhaps， as Lysander said they used to walk by moonlight in this pleasant wood， Oberon might have seen Helena in those happy times when she was beloved by Demetrius.However that might be， when Puck returned with the little purple flower， Oberon said to his favorite: “Take a part of this flower: There has been a sweet Athenian lady here who is in love with a disdainful youth; if you find him sleeping， drop some of the love-juice in his eyes， but contrive to do it when she is near him， that the first thing he sees when he awakes may be this despised lady.You will know the man by the Athenian garments which he wears.”

Puck promised to manage this matter very dexterously; and then Oberon went， unperceived by Titania， to her bower， where she was preparing to go to rest.Her fairy bower was a bank， where grew wild thyme， cowslips， and sweet violets， under a canopy of woodbine， musk-roses， and eglantine.There Titania always slept some part of the night; her coverlet the enamelled skin of a snake， which， though a small mantle， was wide enough to wrap a fairy in.

He found Titania giving orders to her fairies， how they were to employ themselves while she slept.“Some of you，”said her majesty， “must kill cankers in the musk-rose buds， and some wage war with the bats for their leathern wings， to make my small elves coats; and some of you keep watch that the clamorous owl， that nightly hoots， come not near me; but first sing me to sleep.”Then they began to sing this song:

“You spotted snakes with double tongue，

Thorny hedgehogs， be not seen;

Newts and blind-worms do no wrong，

Come not near our Fairy Queen.

Philomel， with melody，

Sing in your sweet lullaby

Lulla， lulla， lullaby; lulla， lulla， lullaby;

Never harm， nor spell， nor charm，

Come our lovely lady nigh;

So good-night with lullaby.”

When the fairies had sung their queen asleep with this pretty lullaby， they left her to perform the important services she had enjoined them.Oberon then softly drew near his Titania， and dropped some of the love-juice on her eyelids， saying:

“What thou seest when thou dost wake，Do it for thy true-love take.”

But to return to Hermia， who made her escape out of her father's house that night， to avoid the death she was doomed to for refusing to marry Demetrius.When she entered the wood， she found her dear Lysander waiting for her， to conduct her to his aunt's house; but before they had passed half through the wood， Hermia was so much fatigued that Lysander， who was very careful of this dear lady， who had proved her affection for him even by hazarding her life for his sake， persuaded her to rest till morning on a bank of soft moss， and， lying down himself on the ground at some little distance， they soon fell fast asleep.Here they were found by Puck， who， seeing a handsome young man asleep， and perceiving that his clothes were made in the Athenian fashion， and that a pretty lady was sleeping near him， concluded that this must be the Athenian maid and her disdainful lover， whom Oberon had sent him to seek; and he naturally enough conjectured that， as they were alone together， she must be the first thing he would see when he awoke; so， without more ado， he proceeded to pour some of the juice of the little purple flower into his eyes.But it so fell out that Helena came that way， and， instead of Hermia， was the first object Lysander beheld when he opened his eyes; and， strange to relate， so powerful was the love-charm， all his love for Hermia vanished away， and Lysander fell in love with Helena.

Had he first seen Hermia when he awoke， the blunder Puck committed would have been of no consequence， for he could not love that faithful lady too well; but for poor Lysander to be forced by a fairy love-charm to forget his own true Hermia， and to run after another lady， and leave Hermia asleep quite alone in a wood at midnight， was a sad chance indeed.

Thus this misfortune happened.Helena， as has been before related， endeavored to keep pace with Demetrius when he ran away so rudely from her; but she could not continue this unequal race long， men being always better runners in a long race than ladies.Helena soon lost sight of Demetrius; and as she was wandering about， dejected and forlorn， she arrived at the place where Lysander was sleeping.“Ah!”said she， “this is Lysander lying on the ground: is he dead or asleep?”Then， gently touching him， she said， “Good sir， if you are alive， awake.”Upon this Lysander opened his eyes and （the love-charm beginning to work） immediately addressed her in terms of extravagant love and admiration; telling her she as much excelled Hermia in beauty as a dove does a raven， and that he would run through fire for her sweet sake， and many more such lover-like speeches.Helena knowing Lysander was her friend Hermia's lover， and that he was solemnly engaged to marry her， was in the utmost rage when she heard herself addressed in this manner; for she thought （as well she might） that Lysander was making a jest of her.“Oh!”said she， “why was I born to be mocked and scorned by every one? Is it not enough， is it not enough， young man， that I can never get a sweet look or a kind word from Demetrius; but you， sir， must pretend in this dainful manner to court me? I thought， Lysander， you were a lord of more true gentleness.”Saying these words in great anger， she ran away; and Lysander followed her， quite forgetful of his own Hermia， who was still asleep.

When Hermia awoke， she was in a sad fright at finding herself alone.She wandered about the wood， not knowing what was become of Lysander， or which way to go to seek for him.In the meantime Demetrius， not being able to find Hermia and his rival Lysander， and fatigued with his fruitless search， was observed by Oberon fast asleep.Oberon had learnt， by some questions he had asked of Puck， that he had applied the love-charm to the wrong person's eyes; and now having found the person first intended， he touched the eyelids of the sleeping Demetrius with the love-juice， and he instantly awoke; and the first thing he saw being Helena， he， as Lysander had done before， began to address love-speeches to her; and just at that moment Lysander， followed by Hermia （for through Puck's unlucky mistake it was now become Hermia's turn to run after her lover）， made his appearance; and then Lysander and Demetrius， both speaking together， made love to Helena， they being each one under the influence of the same potent charm.

The astonished Helena thought that Demetrius， Lysander， and her once dear friend Hermia were all in a plot together to make a jest of her.

Hermia was as much surprised as Helena; she knew not why Lysander and Demetrius， who both before loved her， were now become the lovers of Helena; and to Hermia the matter seemed to be no jest.

The ladies， who before had always been the dearest of friends， now fell to high words together.

“Unkind Hermia，”said Helena， “it is you have set Lysander on to vex me with mock praises; and your other lover Demetrius， who used almost to spurn me with his foot， have you not bid him call me goddess， Nymph， rare， precious， and celestial? He would not speak thus to me， whom he hates， if you did not set him on to make a jest of me.Unkind Hermia， to join with men in scorning your poor friend! Have you forgot our schoolday friendship? How often， Hermia， have we two， sitting on one cushion， both singing one song， with our needles working the same flower， both on the same samples wrought; growing up together in fashion of a double cherry， scarcely seeming parted? Hermia， it is not friendly in you， it is not maidenly， to join with men in scorning your poor friend.”

“I am amazed at your passionate words，”said Hermia: “I scorn you not; it seems you scorn me.”“Ay， do，”returned Helena， “persevere， counterfeit serious looks， and make mouths at me when I turn my back; then wink at each other， and hold the sweet jest up.If you had any pity， grace， or manners， you would not use me thus.”

While Helena and Hermia were speaking these angry words to each other， Demetrius and Lysander left them， to fight together in the wood for the love of Helena.

When they found the gentlemen had left them， they departed， and once more wandered weary in the wood in search of their lovers.

As soon as they were gone， the fairy king， who with little Puck had been listening to their quarrels， said to him: “This is your negligence， Puck; or did you do this wilfully?”

“Believe me， king of shadows，”answered Puck， “it was a mistake; did not you tell me I should know the man by his Athenian garments? However， I am not sorry this has happened， for I think their jangling makes excellent sport.”

“You heard，”said Oberon， “that Demetrius and Lysander are gone to seek a convenient place to fight in.I command you to overhang the night with a thick fog， and lead these quarrelsome lovers so astray in the dark that they shall not be able to find each other.Counterfeit each of their voices to the other， and with bitter taunts provoke them to follow you， while they think it is their rival's tongue they hear.See you do this， till they are so weary they can go no farther; and when you find they are asleep， drop the juice of this other flower into Lysander's eyes， and when he awakes he will forget his new love for Helena， and return to his old passion for Hermia; and then the two fair ladies may each one be happy with the man she loves， and they will think all that has passed a vexatious dream.About this quickly， Puck， and I will go and see what sweet love my Titania has found.”

Titania was still sleeping， and Oberon， seeing a clown near her， who had lost his way in the wood， and was likewise asleep， “This fellow，”said he， “shall be my Titania's true love;”and clapping an ass' head over the clown's， it seemed to fit him as well as if it had grown upon his own shoulders.Though Oberon fixed the ass' head on very gently， it awakened him， and rising up， unconscious of what Oberon had done to him， he went toward the bower where the fairy queen slept.

“Ah! what angel is that I see?”said Titania， opening her eyes， and the juice of the little purple flower beginning to take effect: “Are you as wise as you are beautiful?”

“Why， mistress，”said the foolish clown， “if I have wit enough to find the way out of this wood， I have enough to serve my turn.”

“Out of the wood do not desire to go，”said the enamored queen.“I am a spirit of no common rate.I love you.Go with me， and I will give you fairies to attend upon you.”

She then called four of her fairies: their names were， Pease-blossom， Cobweb， Moth， and Mustard-seed.

“Attend，”said the queen， “upon this sweet gentleman; hop in his walks， and gambol in his sight; feed him with grapes and apricots， and steal for him the honey-bags from the bees.Come， sit with me，”said she to the clown， “and let me play with your amiable hairy cheeks， my beautiful ass! And kiss your fair large ears， my gentle joy!”

“Where is Pease-blossom?”said the ass-headed clown， not much regarding the fairy queen's courtship， but very proud of his new attendants.

“Here， sir，”said little Pease-blossom.

“Scratch my head，”said the clown.“Where is Cobweb?”

“Here， sir，”said Cobweb.

“Good Mr.Cobweb，”said the foolish clown， “kill me the red humble-bee on the top of that thistle yonder; and， good Mr.Cobweb， bring me the honey-bag.Do not fret yourself too much in the action， Mr.Cobweb， and take care the honey-bag break not; I should be sorry to have you overflown with a honey-bag.Where is Mustard-seed?”

“Here， sir，”said Mustard-seed; “what is your will?”

“Nothing，”said the clown， “good Mr.Mustard-seed， but to help Mr.Pease-blossom to scratch; I must go to a barber's， Mr.Mustard-seed， for methinks I am marvellous hairy about the face.”

“My sweet love，”said the queen， “what will you have to eat? I have a venturous fairy shall seek the squirrel's hoard， and fetch you some new nuts.”

“I had rather have a handful of dried pease，”said the clown， who， with his ass' head， had got an ass' appetite.“But， I pray， let none of your people disturb me， for I have a mind to sleep.”

“Sleep， then，”said the queen， “and I will wind you in my arms.Oh， how I love you! how I dote upon you!”

When the fairy king saw the clown sleeping in the arms of his queen， he advanced within her sight， and reproached her with having lavished her favors upon an ass.

This she could not deny， as the clown was then sleeping within her arms， with his ass' head crowned by her with flowers.

When Oberon had teased her for some time， he again demanded the changeling-boy， which she， ashamed of being discovered by her lord with her new favorite， did not dare to refuse him.

Oberon， having thus obtained the little boy he had so long wished for to be his page， took pity on the disgraceful situation into which， by his merry contrivance， he had brought his Titania， and threw some of the juice of the other flower into her eyes; and the fairy queen immediately recovered her senses and wondered at her late dotage， saying how she now loathed the sight of the strange monster.

Oberon likewise took the ass' head from off the clown， and left him to finish his nap with his own fool's head upon his shoulders.

Oberon and his Titania being now perfectly reconciled， he related to her the history of the lovers， and their midnight quarrels; and she agreed to go with him and see the end of their adventures.

The fairy king and queen found the lovers and their fair ladies at no great distance from each other， sleeping on a grass-plot; for Puck， to make amends for his former mistake， had contrived with the utmost diligence to bring them all to the same spot， unknown to each other; and he had carefully removed the charm from off the eyes of Lysander with the antidote the fairy king gave to him.

Hermia first awoke， and finding her lost Lysander asleep so near her， was looking at him and wondering at his strange inconstancy.Lysander presently opening his eyes， and seeing his dear Hermia， recovered his reason， which the fairy charm had before clouded， and， with his reason， his love for Hermia; and they began to talk over the adventures of the night， doubting if these things had really happened， or if they had both been dreaming the same bewildering dream.

Helena and Demetrius were by this time awake; and a sweet sleep having quieted Helena's disturbed and angry spirits， she listened with delight to the professions of love which Demetrius still made to her， and which， to her surprise as well as pleasure， she began to perceive were sincere.

These fair night-wandering ladies， now no longer rivals， became once more true friends; all the unkind words which had passed were forgiven， and they calmly consulted together what was best to be done in their present situation.It was soon agreed that， as Demetrius had given up his pretensions to Hermia， he should endeavor to prevail upon her father to revoke the cruel sentence of death which had been passed against her.Demetrius was preparing to return to Athens for this friendly purpose， when they were surprised with the sight of Egeus， Hermia's father， who came to the wood in pursuit of his runaway daughter.

When Egeus understood that Demetrius would not now marry his daughter， he no longer opposed her marriage with Lysander， but gave his consent that they should be wedded on the fourth day from that time， being the same day on which Hermia had been condemned to lose her life; and on that same day Helena joyfully agreed to marry her beloved and now faithful Demetrius.

The fairy king and queen， who were invisible spectators of this reconciliation， and now saw the happy ending of the lovers' history brought about through the good offices of Oberon， received so much pleasure that these kind spirits resolved to celebrate the approaching nuptials with sports and revels throughout their fairy kingdom.

And now， if any are offended with this story of fairies and their pranks， as judging it incredible and strange， they have only to think that they have been asleep and dreaming， and that all these adventures were visions which they saw in their sleep; and I hope none of my readers will be so unreasonable as to be offended with a pretty harmless Midsummer Night's Dream.

The Winter's Tale

Leontes， king of Sicily， and his queen， the beautiful and virtuous Hermione， once lived in the greatest harmony together.So happy was Leontes in the love of this excellent lady that he had no wish ungratified， except that he sometimes desired to see again， and to present to his queen， his old companion and schoolfellow， Polixenes， king of Bohemia.Leontes and Polixenes were brought up together from their infancy， but being， by the death of their fathers， called to reign over their respective kingdoms， they had not met for many years， though they frequently interchanged gifts， letters， and loving embassies.

At length， after repeated invitations， Polixenes came from Bohemia to the Sicilian court， to make his friend Leontes a visit. At first this visit gave nothing but pleasure to Leontes.He recommended the friend of his youth to the queen's particular attention， and seemed in the presence of his dear friend and old companion to have his felicity quite completed.They talked over old times; their school-days and their youthful pranks were remembered， and recounted to Hermione， who always took a cheerful part in these conversations.

When， after a long stay， Polixenes was preparing to depart， Hermione， at the desire of her husband， joined her entreaties to his that Polixenes would prolong his visit.

And now began this good queen's sorrow; for Polixenes refusing to stay at the request of Leontes， was won over by Hermione's gentle and persuasive words to put off his departure for some weeks longer.Upon this， although Leontes had so long known the integrity and honorable principles of his friend Polixenes， as well as the excellent disposition of his virtuous queen， he was seized with an ungovernable jealousy.Every attention Hermione showed to Polixenes， though by her husband's particular desire， and merely to please him， increased the unfortunate king's jealousy; and from being a loving and a true friend， and the best and fondest of husbands， Leontes became suddenly a savage and inhuman monster.Sending for Camillo， one of the lords of his court， and telling him of the suspicion he entertained， he commanded him to poison Polixenes.

Camillo was a good man; and he， well knowing that the jealousy of Leontes had not the slightest foundation in truth， instead of poisoning Polixenes acquainted him with the king his master's orders， and agreed to escape with him out of the Sicilian dominions; and Polixenes， with the assistance of Camillo， arrived safe in his own kingdom of Bohemia， where Camillo lived from that time in the king's court， and became the chief friend and favorite of Polixenes.

The flight of Polixenes enraged the jealous Leontes still more: he went to the queen's apartment， where the good lady was sitting with her little son Mamillus， who was just beginning to tell one of his best stories to amuse his mother， when the king entered， and taking the child away， sent Hermione to prison.

Mamillus， though but a very young child， loved his mother tenderly; and when he saw her so dishonored， and found she was taken from him to be put into a prison， he took it deeply to heart， and drooped and pined away by slow degrees， losing his appetite and his sleep， till it was thought his grief would kill him.

The king， when he had sent his queen to prison， commanded Cleomenes and Dion， two Sicilian lords， to go to Delphos， there to inquire of the oracle at the temple of Apollo if his queen had been unfaithful to him.

When Hermione had been a short time in prison， she was brought to bed of a daughter; and the poor lady received much comfort from the sight of her pretty baby， and she said to it， “My poor little prisoner， I am as innocent as you are.”

Hermione had a kind friend in the noble-spirited Paulina， who was the wife of Antigonus， a Sicilian lord; and when the lady Paulina heard her royal mistress was brought to bed， she went to the prison where Hermione was confined; and she said to Emilia， a lady who attended upon Hermione: “I pray you， Emilia， tell the good queen， if her majesty dare trust me with her little babe， I will carry it to the king， its father; we do not know how he may soften at the sight of his innocent child.”“Most worthy madam，”replied Emilia， “I will acquaint the queen with your noble offer; she was wishing today that she had any friend who would venture to present the child to the king.”“And tell her，”said Paulina， “that I will speak boldly to Leontes in her defence.”“May you be forever blessed，”said Emilia， “for your kindness to our gracious queen!”Emilia then went to Hermione， who joyfully gave up her baby to the care of Paulina， for she had feared that no one would dare venture to present the child to its father.

Paulina took the new-born infant， and forcing herself into the king's presence， notwithstanding her husband， fearing the king's anger， endeavored to prevent her， she laid the babe at its father's feet， and Paulina made a noble speech to the king in defence of Hermione， and she reproached him severely for his inhumanity， and implored him to have mercy on his innocent wife and child.But Paulina's spirited remonstrances only aggravated Leontes' displeasure， and he ordered her husband Antigonus to take her from his presence.

When Paulina went away， she left the little baby at its father's feet， thinking when he was alone with it he would look upon it and have pity on its helpless innocence.

The good Paulina was mistaken; for no sooner was she gone than the merciless father ordered Antigonus， Paulina's husband， to take the child and carry it out to sea， and leave it upon some desert shore to perish.

Antigonus， unlike the good Camillo， too well obeyed the orders of Leontes; for he immediately carried the child on shipboard， and put out to sea， intending to leave it on the first desert coast he could find.

So firmly was the king persuaded of the guilt of Hermione that he would not wait for the return of Cleomenes and Dion， whom he had sent to consult the oracle of Apollo at Delphos; but before the queen was recovered from her lying-in， and from her grief for the loss of her precious baby， he had her brought to a public trial before all the lords and nobles of his court.And when all the great lords， the judges， and all the nobility of the land were assembled together to try Hermione， and that unhappy queen was standing as a prisoner before her subjects to receive their judgment， Cleomenes and Dion entered the assembly， and presented to the king the answer of the oracle， sealed up; and Leontes commanded the seal to be broken， and the words of the oracle to be read aloud， and these were the words: “Hermione is innocent， Polixenes blameless， Camillo a true subject， Leontes a jealous tyrant， and the king shall live without an heir if that which is lost be not found.”The king would give no credit to the words of the oracle: he said it was a falsehood invented by the queen's friends， and he desired the judge to proceed in the trial of the queen; but while Leontes was speaking， a man entered and told him that the prince Mamillus， hearing his mother was to be tried for her life， struck with grief and shame， had suddenly died.

Hermione， upon hearing of the death of this dear affectionate child， who had lost his life in sorrowing for her misfortune， fainted; and Leontes， pierced to the heart by the news， began to feel pity for his unhappy queen， and he ordered Paulina， and the ladies who were her attendants， to take her away， and use means for her recovery.Paulina soon returned， and told the king that Hermione was dead.

When Leontes heard that the queen was dead， he repented of his cruelty to her; and now that he thought his ill-usage had broken Hermione's heart， he believed her innocent; and now he thought the words of the oracle were true， as he knew “if that which was lost was not found，”which he concluded was his young daughter， he should be without an heir， the young prince Mamillus being dead; and he would give his kindgom now to recover his lost daughter; and Leontes gave himself up to remorse， and passed many years in mournful thoughts and repentant grief.

The ship in which Antigonus carried the infant princess out to sea was driven by a storm upon the coast of Bohemia， the very kingdom of the good king Polixenes.Here Antigonus landed， and here he left the little baby.

Antigonus never returned to Sicily to tell Leontes where he had left his daughter， for as he was going back to the ship a bear came out of the woods and tore him to pieces—a just punishment on him for obeying the wicked order of Leontes.

The child was dressed in rich clothes and jewels; for Hermione had made it very fine when she sent it to Leontes， and Antigonus had pinned a paper to its mantle， and the name of Perdita written thereon， and words obscurely intimating its high birth and untoward fate.

This poor deserted baby was found by a shepherd.He was a humane man， and so he carried the little Perdita home to his wife， who nursed it tenderly; but poverty tempted the shepherd to conceal the rich prize he had found; therefore he left that part of the country， that no one might know where he got his riches， and with part of Perdita's jewels he bought herds of sheep， and became a wealthy shepherd.He brought up Perdita as his own child， and she knew not she was any other than a shepherd's daughter.

The little Perdita grew up a lovely maiden; and though she had no better education than that of a shepherd's daughter， yet so did the natural graces she inherited from her royal mother shine forth in her untutored mind that no one from her behavior would have known she had not been brought up in her father's court.

Polixenes， the king of Bohemia， had an only son， whose name was Florizel.As this young prince was hunting near the shepherd's dwelling， he saw the old man's supposed daughter; and the beauty， modesty， and queen-like deportment of Perdita caused him instantly to fall in love with her.He soon， under the name of Doricles， and in the disguise of a private gentleman， became a constant visitor at the old shepherd's house.

Florizel's frequent absences from court alarmed Polixenes; and setting people to watch his son， he discovered his love for the shepherd's fair daughter.

Polixenes then called for Camillo， the faithful Camillo， who had preserved his life from the fury of Leontes， and desired that he would accompany him to the house of the shepherd， the supposed father of Perdita.

Polixenes and Camillo， both in disguise， arrived at the old shepherd's dwelling while they were celebrating the feast of sheep-shearing; and though they were strangers， yet at the sheep-shearing every guest being made welcome， they were invited to walk in， and join in the general festivity.

Nothing but mirth and jollity was going forward.Tables were spread， and great preparations were making for the rustic feast.Some lads and lasses were dancing on the green before the house， while others of the young men were buying ribbons， gloves， and such toys of a pedlar at the door.

While this busy scene was going forward， Florizel and Perdita sat quietly in a retired corner， seemingly more pleased with the conversation of each other than desirous of engaging in the sports and silly amusements of those around them.

The king was so disguised that it was impossible his son could know him; he therefore advanced near enough to hear the conversation.The simple yet elegant manner in which Perdita conversed with his son did not a little surprise Polixenes: he said to Camillo: “This is the prettiest low-born lass I ever saw; nothing she does or says but looks like something greater than herself， too noble for this place.”

Camillo replied， “Indeed she is the very queen of curds and cream.”

“Pray， my good friend，”said the king to the old shepherd，“ what fair swain is that talking with your daughter?”“They call him Doricles，”replied the shepherd.“He says he loves my daughter; and to speak truth， there is not a kiss to choose which loves the other best.If young Doricles can get her， she shall bring him that he little dreams of；”meaning the remainder of Perdita's jewels， which， after he had bought herds of sheep with part of them， he had carefully hoarded up for her marriage portion.

Polixenes then addressed his son.“How now， young man!”said he: “your heart seems full of something that takes off your mind from feasting.When I was young， I used to load my love with presents; but you have let the pedlar go， and have bought your lass no toy.”

The young prince， who little thought he was talking to the king his father， replied: “Old sir， she prizes not such trifles; the gifts which Perdita expects from me are locked up in my heart.”Then turning to Perdita， he said to her: “Oh， hear me， Perdita， before this ancient gentleman， who it seems was once himself a lover; he shall hear what I profess.”Florizel then called upon the old stranger to be a witness to a solemn promise of marriage which he made to Perdita， saying to Polixenes， “I pray you， mark our contract.”

“Mark your divorce， young sir，”said the king， discovering himself.Polixenes then reproached his son for daring to contract himself to this low-born maiden， calling Perdita “shepherd's brat， sheep-hook，”and other disrespectful names; and threatening， if ever she suffered his son to see her again， he would put her， and the old shepherd her father， to a cruel death.

The king then left them in great wrath， and ordered Camillo to follow him with Prince Florizel.

When the king had departed， Perdita， whose royal nature was roused by Polixenes' reproaches， said: “Though we are all undone， I was not much afraid; and once or twice I was about to speak， and tell him plainly that the selfsame sun which shines upon his palace hides not his face from our cottage， but looks on both alike.”Then sorrowfully she said: “But now I am awakened from this dream， I will queen it no further.Leave me， sir; I will go milk my ewes and weep.”

The kind-hearted Camillo was charmed with the spirit and propriety of Perdita's behavior; and perceiving that the young prince was too deeply in love to give up his mistress at the command of his royal father， he thought of a way to befriend the lovers， and at the same time to execute a favorite scheme he had in his mind.

Camillo had long known that Leontes， the king of Sicily， was become a true penitent; and though Camillo was now the favored friend of king Polixenes， he could not help wishing once more to see his late royal master and his native home.He therefore proposed to Florizel and Perdita that they should accompany him to the Sicilian court， where he would engage Leontes should protect them， till， through his mediation， they could obtain pardon from Polixenes， and his consent to their marriage.

To this proposal they joyfully agreed; and Camillo， who conducted everything relative to their flight， allowed the old shepherd to go along with them.

The shepherd took with him the remainder of Perdita's jewels， her baby clothes， and the paper which he had found pinned to her mantle.

After a prosperous voyage， Florizel and Perdita， Camillo and the old shepherd， arrived in safety at the court of Leontes.Leontes， who still mourned his dead Hermione and his lost child， received Camillo with great kindness， and gave a cordial welcome to prince Florizel.But Perdita， whom Florizel introduced as his princess， seemed to engross all Leontes' attention; perceiving a resemblance between her and his dead queen Hermione， his grief broke out afresh， and he said such a lovely creature might his own daughter have been if he had not so cruelly destroyed her.“And then， too，”said he to Florizel， “I lost the society and friendship of your brave father， whom I now desire more than my life once again to look upon.”

When the old shepherd heard how much notice the king had taken of Perdita， and that he had lost a daughter， who was exposed in infancy， he fell to comparing the time when he found the little Perdita， with the manner of its exposure， the jewels and other tokens of its high birth; from all which it was impossible for him not to conclude that Perdita and the king's lost daughter were the same.

Florizel and Perdita， Camillo and the faithful Paulina， were present when the old shepherd related to the king the manner in which he had found the child， and also the circumstance of Antigonus' death， he having seen the bear seize upon him.He showed the rich mantle in which Paulina remembered Hermione had wrapped the child; and he produced a jewel which she remembered Hermione had tied about Perdita's neck; and he gave up the paper， which Paulina knew to be the writing of her husband.It could not be doubted that Perdita was Leontes' own daughter; but， oh! the noble struggles of Paulina， between sorrow for her husband's death， and joy that the oracle was fulfilled， in the king's heir， his long-lost daughter being found.When Leontes hear that Perdita was his daughter， the great sorrow that he felt that Hermione was not living to behold her child made him that he could say nothing for a long time but， “O thy mother! thy mother!”

Paulina interrupted this joyful yet distressful scene with saying to Leontes that she had a statue， newly finished by that rare Italian master， Julio Romano， which was such a perfect resemblance of the queen， that， would his majesty be pleased to go to her house and look upon it， he would be almost ready to think it was Hermione herself.Thither， then， they all went; the king anxious to see the semblance of his Hermione， and Perdita longing to behold what the mother she never saw did look like.

When Paulina drew back the curtain which concealed this famous statue， so perfectly did it resemble Hermione that all the king's sorrow was renewed at the sight; for a long time he had no power to speak or move.

“I like your silence， my liege，”said Paulina， “it the more shows your wonder.Is not this statue very like your queen?”

At length the king said: “Oh， thus she stood， even with such majesty， when I first wooed her.But yet， Paulina， Hermione was not so aged as this statue looks.”Paulina replied: “So much the more the carver's excellence， who has made the statue as Hermione would have looked had she been living now.But let me draw the curtain， sire， lest presently you think it moves.”

The king then said: “Do not draw the curtain! Would I were dead! See， Camillo， would you not think it breathed? Her eye seems to have motion in it.”“I must draw the curtain， my liege，”said Paulina.“You are so transported， you will persuade yourself the statue lives.”“O sweet Paulina，”said Leontes， “make me think so twenty years together! Still me thinks there is an air comes from her.What fine chisel could ever yet cut breath? Let no man mock me， for I will kiss her.”“Good， my lord， forbear!”said Paulina.“The ruddiness upon her lip is wet; you will stain your own with oily painting.Shall I draw the curtain?”“No， not these twenty years，”said Leontes.

Perdita， who all this time had been kneeling， and beholding in silent admiration the statue of her matchless mother， said now， “and so long could I stay here， looking upon my dear mother.”

“Either forbear this transport，”said Paulina to Leontes， “and let me draw the curtain; or prepare yourself for more amazement.I can make the statue move indeed; ay， and descend from off the pedestal， and take you by the hand.But then you will think， which I protest I am not， that I am assisted by some wicked powers.”

“What you can make her do，”said the astonished king， “I am content to look upon.What you can make her speak，I am content to hear; for it is as easy to make her speak as move.”

Paulina then ordered some slow and solemn music， which she had prepared for the purpose， to strike up; and to the amazement of all the beholders， the statue came down from off the pedestal， and threw its arms around Leontes' neck.The statue then began to speak， praying for blessings on her husband and on her child， the newly found Perdita.

No wonder that the statue hung upon Leontes' neck， and blessed her husband and her child.No wonder; for the statue was indeed Hermione herself， the real， the living queen.

Paulina had falsely reported to the king the death of Hermione， thinking that the only means to preserve her royal mistress' life; and with the good Paulina， Hermione had lived ever since， never choosing Leontes should know she was living， till she heard Perdita was found; for though she had long forgiven the injuries which Leontes had done to herself， she could not pardon his cruelty to his infant daughter.

His dead queen thus restored to life， his lost daughter found， the long-sorrowing Leontes could scarcely support the excess of his own happiness.

Nothing but congratulations and affectionate speeches were heard on all sides.Now the delighted parents thanked prince Florizel for loving their lowly seeming daughter; and now they blessed the good old shepherd for preserving their child.Greatly did Camillo and Paulina rejoice that they had lived to see so good an end of all their faithful services.

And as if nothing should be wanting to complete this strange and unlooked-for joy， King Polixenes himself now entered the palace.

When Polixenes first missed his son and Camillo， knowing that Camillo had long wished to return to Sicily， he conjectured he should find the fugitives here; and， following them with all speed， he happened to arrive just at this， the happiest moment of Leontes' life.

Polixenes took a part in the general joy; he forgave his friend Leontes the unjust jealousy he had conceived against him， and they once more loved each other with all the warmth of their first boyish friendship.And there was no fear that Polixenes would now oppose his son's marriage with Perdita.She was no “sheep-hook”now， but the heiress of the crown of Sicily.

Thus have we seen the patient virtues of the long-suffering Hermione rewarded.That excellent lady lived many years with her Leontes and her Perdita， the happiest of mothers and of queens.

Much A do About Nothing

There lived in the palace at Messina two ladies， whose names were Hero and Beatrice.Hero was the daughter， and Beatrice the niece， of Leonato， the governor of Messina.

Beatrice was of a lively temper， and loved to divert her cousin Hero， who was of a more serious disposition， with her sprightly sallies.Whatever was going forward was sure to make matter of mirth for the light-hearted Beatrice.

At the time the history of these ladies commences， some young men of high rank in the army， as they were passing through Messina on their return from a war that was just ended， in which they had distinguished themselves by their great bravery， came to visit Leonato.Among these were Don Pedro， the prince of Arragon， and his friend Claudio， who was a lord of Florence; and with them came the wild and witty Benedick， and he was a lord of Padua.

These strangers had been at Messina before， and the hospitable governor introduced them to his daughter and his niece as their old friends and acquaintances.

Benedick， the moment he entered the room， began a lively conversation with Leonato and the prince.Beatrice， who liked not to be left out of any discourse， interrupted Benedick with saying， “I wonder that you will still be talking， Signior Benedick; no body marks you.”Benedick was just such another rattlebrain as Beatrice， yet he was not pleased at this free salutation; he thought it did not become a well-bred lady to be so flippant with her tongue; and he remembered， when he was last at Messina， that Beatrice used to select him to make her merry jests upon.And as there is no one who so little likes to be made a jest of as those who are apt to take the same liberty themselves， so it was with Benedick and Beatrice: these two sharp wits never met in former times but a perfect war of raillery was kept up between them， and they always parted mutually displeased with each other.Therefore， when Beatrice stopped him in the middle of his discourse with telling him nobody marked what he was saying， Benedick， affecting not to have observed before that she was present， said， “What， my dear Lady Disdain， are you yet living?”And now war broke out afresh between them， and a long jangling argument ensued， during which Beatrice， although she knew he had so well approved his valor in the late war， said that she would eat all he had killed there; and observing the prince take delight in Benedick's conversation， she called him “the prince's jester.”This sarcasm sank deeper into the mind of Benedick than all Beatrice had said before.The hint she gave him that he was a coward， by saying she would eat all he had killed， he did not regard， knowing himself to be a brave man; but there is nothing that great wits so much dread as the imputation of buffoonery， because the charge comes sometimes a little too near the truth: therefore Benedick perfectly hated Beatrice when she called him “the prince's jester.”

The modest lady Hero was silent before the noble guests; and while Claudio was attentively observing the improvement which time had made in her beauty， and was contemplating the exquisite graces of her fine figure （for she was an admirable young lady）， the prince was highly amused with listening to the humorous dialogue between Benedick and Beatrice; and he said in a whisper to Leonato: “This is a pleasant-spirited young lady.She were an excellent wife for Benedick.”Leonato replied to this suggestion， “O my lord， my lord， if they were but a week married， they would talk themselves mad.”But though Leonato thought they would make a discordant pair， the prince did not give up the idea of matching these two keen wits together.

When the prince returned with Claudio from the palace， he found that the marriage he had devised between Benedick and Beatrice was not the only one projected in that good company， for Claudio spoke in such terms of Hero as made the prince guess at what was passing in his heart; and he liked it well， and he said to Claudio， “do you affect Hero?”To this question Claudio replied: “O my lord， when I was last at Messina， I looked upon her with a soldier's eye， that liked， but had no leisure for loving; but now， in this happy time of peace， thoughts of war have left their places vacant in my mind， and in their room come thronging soft and delicate thoughts， all prompting me how fair young Hero is， reminding me that I liked her before I went to the wars.”Claudio's confession of his love for Hero so wrought upon the prince that he lost no time in soliciting the consent of Leonato to accept of Claudio for a son-in-law.Leonato agreed to this proposal， and the prince found no great difficulty in persuading the gentle Hero herself to listen to the suit of the noble Claudio， who was a lord of rare endowments， and highly accomplished; and Claudio， assisted by his kind prince， soon prevailed upon Leonato to fix an early day for the celebration of his marriage with Hero.

Claudio was to wait but a few days before he was to be married to his fair lady; yet he complained of the interval being tedious， as indeed most young men are impatient when they are waiting for the accomplishment of any event they have set their hearts upon: the prince， therefore， to make the time seem short to him， proposed as a kind of merry pastime that they should invent some artful scheme to make Benedick and Beatrice fall in love with each other.Claudio entered with great satisfaction into this whim of the prince， and Leonato promised them his assistance， and even Hero said she would do any modest office to help her cousin to a good husband.

The device the prince invented was that the gentleman should make Benedick believe that Beatrice was in love with him， and that Hero should make Beatrice believe that Benedick was in love with her.

The prince， Leonato， and Claudio began their operations first; and watching an opportunity when Benedick was quietly seated reading in an arbor， the prince and his assistants took their station among the trees behind the arbor， so near that Benedick could not choose but hear all they said; and after some careless talk the prince said， “Come hither， Leonato.What was it you told me the other day，—that your niece Beatrice was in love with Signior Benedick? I did never think that lady would have loved any man.”“No， nor I neither， my lord，”answered Leonato.“It is most wonderful that she should so dote on Benedick， whom she in all outward behavior seemed ever to dislike.”Claudio confirmed all this， with saying that Hero had told him Beatrice was so in love with Benedick that she would certainly die of grief if he could not be brought to love her; which Leonato and Claudio seemed to agree was impossible， he having always been such a railer against all fair ladies， and in particular against Beatrice.

The prince affected to hearken to all this with great compassion for Beatrice， and he said， “It were good that Benedick were told of this.”“To what end?”said Claudio; “he would but make sport of it， and torment the poor lady worse.”“And if he should，”said the prince， “it were a good deed to hang him; for Beatrice is an excellent sweet lady， and exceeding wise in everything but in loving Benedick.”Then the prince motioned to his companions that they should walk on， and leave Benedick to meditate upon what he had overheard.

Benedick had been listening with great eagerness to this conversation; and he said to himself when he heard Beatrice loved him: “Is it possible? Sits the wind in that corner?”And when they were gone， he began to reason in this manner with himself: “This can be no trick! they were very serious， and they have the truth from Hero， and seem to pity the lady.Love me! Why， it must be requited! I did never think to marry.But when I said I should die a bachelor， I did not think I should live to be married.They say the lady is virtuous and fair.She is so.And wise in everything but in loving me.Why， that is no great argument of her folly.But here comes Beatrice.By this day， she is a fair lady.I do spy some marks of love in her.”Beatrice now approached him， and said with her usual tartness， “Against my will， I am sent to bid you come in to dinner.”Benedick， who never felt himself disposed to speak so politely to her before， replied， “Fair Beatrice， I thank you for your pains”; and when Beatrice， after two or three more rude speeches， left him， Benedick thought he observed a concealed meaning of kindness under the uncivil words she uttered， and he said aloud: “If I do not take pity on her， I am a villain; if I do not love her， I am a Jew.I will go get her picture.”

The gentleman being thus caught in the net they had spread for him， it was now Hero's turn to play her part with Beatrice; and for this purpose she sent for Ursula and Margaret， two gentlewomen who attended upon her， and she said to Margaret: “Good Margaret， run to the parlor; there you will find my cousin Beatrice talking with the prince and Claudio.Whisper in her ear that I and Ursula are walking in the orchard， and that our discourse is all of her.Bid her steal into that pleasant arbor， where honey-suckles ripened by the sun， like ungrateful minions， forbid the sun to enter.”This arbor， into which Hero desired Margaret to entice Beatrice， was the very same pleasant arbor where Benedick had so lately been an attentive listener.

“I will make her come， I warrant， presently，”said Margaret.

Hero， then taking Ursula with her into the orchard， said to her: “Now， Ursula， when Beatrice comes， we will walk up and down this alley， and our talk must be only of Benedick; and when I name him， let it be your part to praise him more than ever man did merit.My talk to you must be how Benedick is in love with Beatrice.Now begin， for look where Beatrice， like a lapwing， runs close by the ground， to hear our conference.”They then began， Hero saying， as if in answer to something which Ursula had said: “No， truly， Ursula.She is too disdainful; her spirits are as coy as wild birds of the rock.”“But are you sure，”said Ursula， “that Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely?”Hero replied: “ So says the prince and my lord Claudio， and they entreated me to acquaint her with it; but I persuaded them， if they loved Benedick， never to let Beatrice know of it.”“Certainly，”replied Ursula， “it were not good she knew his love lest she made sport of it.”“Why， to say the truth，”said Hero， “I never yet saw a man， how wise soever， or noble， young， or rarely featured， but she would dispraise him.”“Sure， sure such carping is not commendable，”said Ursula.“No，”replied Hero， “but who dare tell her so? If I should speak， she would mock me into air.”“Oh， you wrong your cousin，”said Ursula: “she cannot be so much without true judgment as to refuse so rare a gentleman as Signior Benedick.”“He hath an excellent good name，”said Hero: “indeed， he is the first man in Italy， always excepting my dear Claudio.”And now， Hero giving her attendant a hint that it was time to change the discourse， Ursula said， “And when are you to be married， madam?”Hero then told her that she was to be married to Claudio the next day， and desired she would go in with her， and look at some new attire， as she wished to consult with her on what she would wear on the morrow.Beatrice， who had been listening with breathless eagerness to this dialogue， when they went away exclaimed: “What fire is in mine ears? Can this be true? Farewell， contempt and scorn， and maiden pride， adieu! Benedick， love on! I will requite you， taming my wild heart to your loving hand.”

It must have been a pleasant sight to see these old enemies converted into new and loving friends， and to behold their first meeting after being cheated into mutual liking by the merry artifice of the goodhumored prince.But a sad reverse in the fortunes of Hero must now be thought of.The morrow， which was to have been her wedding-day， brought sorrow on the heart of Hero and her good father Leonato.

The prince had a half-brother， who came from the wars along with him to Messina.This brother （his name was Don John） was a melancholy， discontented man， whose spirits seemed to labor in the contriving of villanies.He hated the prince his brother， and he hated Claudio， because he was the prince's friend， and determined to prevent Claudio's marriage with Hero， only for the malicious pleasure of making Claudio and the prince unhappy; for he knew the prince had set his heart upon this marriage， almost as much as Claudio himself; and to effect this wicked purpose， he employed one Borachio， a man as bad as himself， whom he encouraged with the offer of a great reward.This Borachio paid his court to Margaret， Hero's attendant; and Don John， knowing this， prevailed upon him to make Margaret promise to talk with him from her lady's chamber window that night， after Hero was asleep， and also to dress herself in Hero's clothes， the better to deceive Claudio into the belief that it was Hero; for that was the end he meant to compass by this wicked plot.

Don John then went to the prince and Claudio， and told them that Hero was an imprudent lady， and that she talked with men from her chamber window at midnight.Now， this was the evening before the wedding， and he offered to take them that night where they should themselves hear Hero discoursing with a man from her window; and they consented to go along with him， and Claudio said: “If I see anything to-night why I should not marry her， to-morrow in the congregation， where I intended to wed her， there will I shame her.”The prince also said， “And as I assisted you to obtain her， I will join with you to disgrace her.”

When Don John brought them near Hero's chamber that night， they saw Borachio standing under the window， and they saw Margaret looking out of Hero's window， and heard her talking with Borachio: and Margaret being dressed in the same clothes they had seen Hero wear， the prince and Claudio believed it was the lady Hero herself.

Nothing could equal the anger of Claudio when he had made （as he thought） this discovery.All his love for the innocent Hero was at once converted into hatred， and he resolved to expose her in the church， as he had said he would， the next day; and the prince agreed to this， thinking no punishment could be too severe for the naughty lady who talked with a man from her window the very night before she was going to be married to the noble Claudio.

The next day， when they were all met to celebrate the marriage， and Claudio and Hero were standing before the priest， and the priest， or friar as he was called， was proceeding to pronounce the marriage ceremony， Claudio， in the most passionate language， proclaimed the guilt of the blameless Hero， who， amazed at the strange words he uttered， said meekly， “Is my lord well， that he does speak so wide?”

Leonato， in the utmost horror， said to the prince， “My lord， why speak not you?”“What should I speak?”said the prince; “I stand dishonored， that have gone about to link my dear friend to a unworthy woman.Leonato， upon my honor， myself， my brother， and this grieved Claudio did see and hear her last night at midnight talk with a man at her chamber window.”

Benedick， in astonishment at what he heard， said， “This looks not like a nuptial.”

“True， O God!”replied the heart-struck Hero; and then this hapless lady sank down in a fainting fit， to all appearance dead.The prince and Claudio left the church， without staying to see if Hero would recover， or at all regarding the distress into which they had thrown Leonato， so hard-hearted had their anger made them.

Benedick remained and assisted Beatrice to recover Hero from her swoon， saying， “How does the lady?”“Dead， I think，”replied Beatrice， in great agony， for she loved her cousin， and， knowing her virtuous principles， she believed nothing of what she had heard spoken against her.Not so the poor old father; he believed the story of his child's shame， and it was piteous to hear him lamenting over her， as she lay like one dead before him， wishing she might never more open her eyes.

But the ancient friar was a wise man， and full of observation on human nature， and he had attentively marked the lady's countenance when she heard herself accused， and noted a thousand blushing shames to start into her face， and then he saw an angel-like whiteness bear away those blushes， and in her eye he saw a fire that did belie the error that the prince did speak against her maiden truth， and he said to the sorrowing father: “Call me a fool; trust not my reading， nor my observation; trust not my age， my reverence， nor my calling， if this sweet lady lie not guiltless here under some biting error.”

When Hero recovered from the swoon into which she had fallen， the friar said to her， “Lady， what man is he you are accused of?”Hero replied， “They know that do accuse me; I know of none;”then turning to Leonato， she said， “O my father， if you can prove that any man has ever conversed with me at hours unmeet， or that I yesternight changed words with any creature， refuse me， hate me， torture me to death.”

“There is，”said the friar， “some strange misunderstanding in the prince and Claudio; and then he counselled Leonato that he should report that Hero was dead; and he said that the death-like swoon in which they had left Hero would make this easy of belief; and he also advised him that he should put on mourning， and erect a monument for her， and do all rites that appertain to a burial.“What shall become of this?”said Leonato; “What will this do?”The friar replied， “This report of her death shall change slander into pity—that is some good; but that is not all the good I hope for.When Claudio shall hear she died upon hearing his words， the idea of her life shall sweetly creep into his imagination.Then shall he mourn， if ever love had interest in his heart， and wish he had not so accused her; yea， though he thought his accusation true.”

Benedick now said: “Leonato， let the friar advise you; and though you know how well I love the prince and Claudio， yet on my honor I will not reveal this secret to them.”

Leonato， thus persuaded， yielded; and he said sorrowfully， “I am so grieved that the smallest twine may lead me.”The kind friar then led Leonato and Hero away to comfort and console them， and Beatrice and Benedick remained alone; and this was the meeting from which their friends， who contrived the merry plot against them， expected so much diversion-those friends who were now overwhelmed with affliction， and from whose minds all thoughts of merriment seemed forever banished.

Benedick was the first who spoke， and he said， “Lady Beatrice， have you wept all this while?”“Yea， and I will weep a while longer，”said Beatrice.“Surely，”said Benedick， “I do believe your fair cousin is wronged.”“Ah!”said Beatrice， “how much might that man deserve of me who would right her!”Benedick then said: “Is there any way to show such friendship? I do love nothing in the world so well as you: is not that strange?”“It were as possible，”said Beatrice， “for me to say I loved nothing in the world so well as you; but believe me not， and yet I lie not.I confess nothing， nor I deny nothing.I am sorry for my cousin.”“By my sword，”said Benedick， “you love me， and I protest I love you.Come， bid me do anything for you.”“Kill Claudio，”said Beatrice.“Ha! not for the wide world，”said Benedick; for he loved his friend Claudio， and he believed he had been imposed upon.“Is not Claudio a villain， that has slandered， scorned， and dishonored my cousin?”said Beatrice: “Oh， that I were a man!”“Hear me， Beatrice!”said Benedick.But Beatrice would hear nothing in Claudio's defence; and she continued to urge on Benedick to revenge her cousin's wrongs， and she said: “Talk with a man out of the window—a proper saying! Sweet Hero! she is wronged; she is slandered; she is undone.Oh， that I were a man， for Claudio's sake! or that I had any friend who would be a man for my sake! but valor is melted into courtesies and compliments.I cannot be a man with wishing， therefore I will die a woman with grieving.”“Tarry， good Beatrice，”said Benedick: “by this hand I love you.”“Use it for my love some other way than swearing by it，”said Beatrice.“Think you on your soul that Claudio has wronged Hero?”asked Benedick.“Yea，”answered Beatrice: “as sure as I have a thought or a soul.”“Enough，”said Benedick; “I am engaged; I will challenge him.I will kiss your hand， and so leave you.By this hand， Claudio shall render me a dear account! As you hear from me， so think of me.Go， comfort your cousin.”

While Beatrice was thus powerfully pleading with Benedick， and working his gallant temper， by the spirit of her angry words， to engage in the cause of Hero， and fight even with his dear friend Claudio， Leonato was challenging the prince and Claudio to answer with their swords the injury they had done his child， who， he affirmed， had died for grief.But they respected his age and his sorrow， and they said， “Nay， do not quarrel with us， good old man.”And now came Benedick， and he also challenged Claudio to answer with his sword the injury he had done to Hero; and Claudio and the prince said to each other， “Beatrice has set him on to do this.”Claudio， nevertheless， must have accepted this challenge of Benedick， had not the justice of Heaven at the moment brought to pass a better proof of the innocence of Hero than the uncertain fortune of a duel.

While the prince and Claudio were yet talking of the challenge of Benedick， a magistrate brought Borachio as a prisoner before the prince.Borachio had been overheard talking with one of his companions of the mischief he had been employed by Don John to do.

Borachio made a full confession to the prince in Claudio's hearing， that it was Margaret dressed in her lady's clothes that he had talked with from the window， whom they had mistaken for the lady Hero herself; and no doubt continued on the minds of Claudio and the prince of the innocence of Hero.If a suspicion had remained， it must have been removed by the flight of Don John， who， finding his villanies were detected， fled from Messina to avoid the just anger of his brother.

The heart of Claudio was sorely grieved when he found he had falsely accused Hero， who， he thought， died upon hearing his cruel words; and the memory of his beloved Hero's image came over him in the rare semblance that he loved it first; and the prince， asking him if what he heard did not run like iron through his soul， he answered that he felt as if he had taken poison while Borachio was speaking.

And the repentant Claudio implored forgiveness of the old man Leonato for the injury he had done his child; and promised that whatever penance Leonato would lay upon him for his fault in believing the false accusation against his betrothed wife， for her dear sake he would endure it.

The penance Leonato enjoined him was to marry the next morning a cousin of Hero's， who， he said， was now his heir， and in person very like Hero.Claudio， regarding the solemn promise he made to Leonato， said he would marry this unknown lady， even though she were an Ethiop; but his heart was very sorrowful， and he passed that night in tears and in remorseful grief， at the tomb which Leonato had erected for Hero.

When the morning came， the prince accompanied Claudio to the church， where the good friar， and Leonato and his niece， were already assembled， to celebrate a second nuptial; and Leonato presented to Claudio his promised bride; and she wore a mask， that Claudio might not discover her face.And Claudio said to the lady in the mask: “Give me your hand， before this holy friar; I am your husband， if you will marry me.”“And when I lived I was your other wife，”said this unknown lady; and， taking off her mask， she proved to be no niece （as was pretended）， but Leonato's very daughter， the lady Hero herself.We may be sure that this proved a most agreeable surprise to Claudio， who thought her dead， so that he could scarcely for joy believe his eyes; and the prince， who was equally amazed at what he saw， exclaimed， “Is not this Hero， Hero that was dead?”Leonato replied， “She died， my lord， but while her slander lived.”The friar promised them an explanation of this seeming miracle after the ceremony was ended; and was proceeding to marry them， when he was interrupted by Benedick， who desired to be married at the same time to Beatrice.Beatrice making some demur to this match， and Benedick challenging her with her love for him， which he had learned from Hero， a pleasant explanation took place; and they found they had both been tricked into a belief of love， which had never existed， and had become lovers in truth by the power of a false jest: but the affection which a merry invention had cheated them into was grown too powerful to be shaken by a serious explanation; and since Benedick proposed to marry， he was resolved to think nothing to the purpose that the world could say against it; and he merrily kept up the jest， and swore to Beatrice that he took her but for pity， and because he heard she was dying of love for him; and Beatrice protested that she yielded but upon great persuasion， and partly to save his life， for she heard he was in a consumption.So these two mad wits were reconciled， and made a match of it， after Claudio and Hero were married; and to complete the history， Don John， the contriver of the villany， was taken in his flight， and brought back to Messina; and a brave punishment it was to this gloomy， discontented man to see the joy and feastings which， by the disappointment of his plots， took place at the palace in Messina.

As You Like It

During the time that France was divided into provinces （or dukedoms as they were called） there reigned in one of these provinces a usurper， who had deposed and banished his elder brother， the lawful duke.

The duke who was thus driven from his dominions retired with a few faithful followers to the forest of Arden; and here the good duke lived with his loving friends， who had put themselves into a voluntary exile for his sake， while their land and revenues enriched the false usurper; and custom soon made the life of careless ease they led here more sweet to them than the pomp and uneasy splendour of a courtier's life.Here they lived like the old Robin Hood of England， and to this forest many noble youths daily resorted from the court， and did fleet the time carelessly， as they did who lived in the golden age.In the summer they lay along under the fine shade of the large forest-trees， marking the playful sports of the wild deer; and so fond were they of these poor dappled fools， who seemed to be the native inhabitants of the forest， that it grieved them to be forced to kill them to supply themselves with venison for their food.When the cold winds of winter made the duke feel the change of his adverse fortune， he would endure it patiently， and say: “These chilling winds which blow upon my body are true counsellors; they do not flatter， but represent truly to me my condition; and though they bite sharply， their tooth is nothing like so keen as that of unkindness and ingratitude.I find that howsoever men speak against adversity， yet some sweet uses are to be extracted from it—like the jewel， precious for medicine， which is taken from the head of the venomous and despised toad.”In this manner did the patient duke draw a useful moral from everything that he saw; and by the help of this moralizing turn， in that life of his， remote from public haunts， he could find tongues in trees， books in the running brooks， sermons in stones， and good in everything.

The banished duke had an only daughter， named Rosalind， whom the usurper， Duke Frederick， when he banished her father， still retained in his court as a companion for his own daughter Celia.A strict friendship subsisted between these ladies， which the disagreement between their fathers did not in the least interrupt， Celia striving by every kindness in her power to make amends to Rosalind for the injustice of her own father in deposing the father of Rosalind; and whenever the thoughts of her father's banishment， and her own dependence on the false usurper， made Rosalind melancholy， Celia's whole care was to comfort and console her.

One day， when Celia was talking in her usual kind manner to Rosalind， saying， “I pray you， Rosalind， my sweet cousin， be merry，”a messenger entered from the duke， to tell them that if they wished to see a wrestling-match， which was just going to begin， they must come instantly to the court before the palace; and Celia， thinking it would amuse Rosalind， agreed to go and see it.

In those times wrestling， which is only practised now by country clowns， was a favorite sport even in the courts of princes， and before fair ladies and princesses.To this wrestling-match， therefore， Celia and Rosalind went.They found that it was likely to prove a very tragical sight; for a large and powerful man， who had long been practiced in the art of wrestling， and had slain many men in contests of this kind， was just going to wrestle with a very young man， who， from his extreme youth and inexperience in the art， the beholders all thought would certainly be killed.

When the duke saw Celia and Rosalind， he said: “How now， daughter and niece， are you crept hither to see the wrestling? You will take little delight in it， there is such odds in the men: in pity to this young man， I would wish to persuade him from wrestling.Speak to him， ladies， and see if you can move him.”

The ladies were well pleased to perform this humane office， and first Celia entreated the young stranger that he would desist from the attempt; and then Rosalind spoke so kindly to him， and with such feeling consideration for the danger he was about to undergo， that， instead of being persuaded by her gentle words to forego his purpose， all his thoughts were bent to distinguish himself， by his courage， in this lovely lady's eyes.He refused the request of Celia and Rosalind in such graceful and modest words that they felt still more concern for him.He concluded his refusal with saying: “I am sorry to deny such fair and excellent ladies anything.But let your fair eyes and gentle wishes go with me to my trial， wherein if I be conquered there is one shamed that was never gracious; if I am killed， there is one dead that is willing to die.I shall do my friends no wrong， for I have none to lament me; the world no injury， for in it I have nothing; for I only fill up a place in the world which may be better supplied when I have made it empty.”

And now the wrestling-match began.Celia wished the young stranger might not be hurt; but Rosalind felt most for him.The friendless state which he said he was in， and that he wished to die， made Rosalind think that he was like herself， unfortunate; and she pitied him so much， and so deep an interest she took in his danger while he was wrestling， that she might almost be said at that moment to have fallen in love with him.

The kindness shown this unknown youth by these fair and noble ladies gave him courage and strength， so that he performed wonders， and in the end completely conquered his antagonist， who was so much hurt that for a while he was unable to speak or move.

The duke Frederick was much pleased with the courage and skill shown by this young stranger， and desired to know his name and parentage， meaning to take him under his protection.

The stranger said his name was Orlando， and that he was the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys.

Sir Rowland de Boys， the father of Orlando， had been dead some years; but when he was living， he had been a true subject and dear friend of the banished duke; therefore， when Frederick heard Orlando was the son of his banished brother's friend， all his liking for this brave young man was changed into displeasure， and he left the place in very ill humor.Hating to hear the very name of any of his brother's friends， and yet still admiring the valor of the youth， he said， as he went out， that he wished Orlando had been the son of any other man.

Rosalind was delighted to hear that her new favorite was the son of her father's old friend; and she said to Celia: “My father loved Sir Rowland de Boys; and if I had known this young man was his son， I would have added tears to my entreaties before he should have ventured.”

The ladies then went up to him， and seeing him abashed by the sudden displeasure shown by the duke， they spoke kind and encouraging words to him; and Rosalind， when they were going away， turned back to speak some more civil things to the brave young son of her father's old friend， and， taking a chain from off her neck， she said: “Gentleman， wear this for me.I am out of suits with fortune， or I would give you a more valuable present.”

When the ladies were alone， Rosalind's talk being still of Orlando， Celia began to perceive her cousin had fallen in love with the handsome young wrestler， and she said to Rosalind， “Is it possible you should fall in love so suddenly?”Rosalind replied， “The duke， my father， loved his father dearly.”“But，”said Celia， “does it therefore follow that you should love his son dearly? for then I ought to hate him， for my father hated his father; yet I do not hate Orlando.”

Frederick being enraged at the sight of Sir Rowland de Boys' son， which reminded him of the many friends the banished duke had among the nobility， and having been for some time displeased with his niece because the people praised her for her virtues and pitied her for her good father's sake， his malice suddenly broke out against her; and while Celia and Rosalind were talking of Orlando， Frederick entered the room， and with looks full of anger ordered Rosalind instantly to leave the palace， and follow her father into banishment， telling Celia， who in vain pleaded for her， that he had only suffered Rosalind to stay upon her account.“I did not then，”said Celia， “entreat you to let her stay， for I was too young at that time to value her; but now that I know her worth， and that we so long have slept together， rose at the same instant， learned， played， and eat together， I cannot live out of her company.”Frederick replied: “She is too subtle for you; her smoothness， her very silence， and her patience speak to the people， and they pity her.You are a fool to plead for her， for you will seem more bright and virtuous when she is gone; therefore open not your lips in her favor， for the doom which I have passed upon her is irrevocable.”

When Celia found she could not prevail upon her father to let Rosalind remain with her， she generously resolved to accompany her; and leaving her father's palace that night， she went along with her friend to seek Rosalind's father， the banished duke， in the forest of Arden.

Before they set out， Celia considered that it would be unsafe for two young ladies to travel in the rich clothes they then wore; she therefore proposed that they should disguise their rank by dressing themselves like country maids.Rosalind said it would be a still greater protection if one of them was to be dressed like a man; and so it was agreed on quickly between them that， as Rosalind was the tallest， she should wear the dress of a young countryman， and Celia should be habited like a country lass， and that they should say they were brother and sister， and Rosalind said she would be called Ganimed， and Celia chose the name of Aliena.

In this disguise， and taking their money and jewels to defray their expenses， these fair princesses set out on their long travel; for the forest of Arden was a long way off， beyond the boundaries of the duke's dominions.

The Lady Rosalind （or Ganimed as she must now be called） with her manly garb seemed to have put on a manly courage.The faithful friendship Celia had shown in accompanying Rosalind so many weary miles made the new brother， in recompense for this true love， exert a cheerful spirit， as if he were indeed Ganimed， the rustic and stout-hearted brother of the gentle village maiden， Aliena.

When at last they came to the forest of Arden， they no longer found the convenient inns and good accommodations they had met with on the road; and being in want of food and rest， Ganimed， who had so merrily cheered his sister with pleasant speeches and happy remarks all the way， now owned to Aliena that he was so weary he could find in his heart to disgrace his man's apparel and cry like a woman; and Aliena declared she could go no farther; and then again Ganimed tried to recollect that it was a man's duty to comfort and console a woman， as the weaker vessel， and to seem courageous to his new sister he said: “Come， have a good heart， my sister Aliena; we are now at the end of our travel， in the forest of Arden.”But feigned manliness and forced courage would no longer support them; for though they were in the forest of Arden， they knew not where to find the duke: and here the travel of these weary ladies might have come to a sad conclusion， for they might have lost themselves and perished for want of food; but providentially， as they were sitting on the grass， almost dying with fatigue， and hopeless of any relief， a countryman chanced to pass that way， and Ganimed once more tried to speak with a manly boldness， saying: “Shepherd， if love or gold can in this desert place procure us entertainment， I pray you bring us where we may rest ourselves; for this young maid， my sister， is much fatigued with travelling， and faints for want of food.”

The man replied that he was only a servant to a shepherd， and that his master's house was just going to be sold， and therefore they would find but poor entertainment; but that if they would go with him， they should be welcome to what there was.They followed the man， the near prospect of relief giving them fresh strength; and bought the house and sheep of the shepherd， and took the man who conducted them to the shepherd's house to wait on them; and being by this means so fortunately provided with a neat cottage， and well supplied with provisions， they agreed to stay here till they could learn in what part of the forest the duke dwelt.

When they were rested after the fatigue of their journey， they began to like their new way of life， and almost fancied themselves the shepherd and shepherdess they feigned to be; yet sometimes Ganimed remembered he had once been the same lady Rosalind who had so dearly loved the brave Orlando because he was the son of old Sir Rowland， her father's friend; and though Ganimed thought that Orlando was many miles distant， even so many weary miles as they had travelled， yet it soon appeared that Orlando was also in the forest of Arden; and in this manner this strange event came to pass.

Orlando was the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys， who， when he died， left him （Orlando being then very young） to the care of his eldest brother， Oliver， charging Oliver on his blessing to give his brother a good education， and provide for him as became the dignity of their ancient house.Oliver proved an unworthy brother， and， disregarding the commands of his dying father， he never put his brother to school， but kept him at home， untaught and entirely neglected.But in his nature and in the noble qualities of his mind Orlando so much resembled his excellent father that without any advantages of education he seemed like a youth who had been bred with the utmost care; and Oliver so envied the fine person and dignified manners of his untutored brother that at last he wished to destroy him; and to effect this he set on people to persuade him to wrestle with the famous wrestler， who， as has been before related， had killed so many men.Now， it was this cruel brother's neglect of him which made Orlando say he wished to die， being so friendless.

When， contrary to the wicked hopes he had formed， his brother proved victorious， Oliver's envy and malice knew no bounds， and he swore he would burn the chamber where Orlando slept.He was overheard making this vow by one that had been an old and faithful servant to their father， and that loved Orlando because he resembled Sir Rowland.This old man went out to meet him when he returned from the duke's palace， and， when he saw Orlando， the peril his dear young master was in made him break out into these passionate exclamations: “O my gentle master， my sweet master! O you memory of old Sir Rowland! why are you virtuous? why are you gentle， strong， and valiant? and why would you be so fond to overcome the famous wrestler? Your praise is come too swiftly home before you.”Orlando， wondering what all this meant， asked him what was the matter.And then the old man told him how his wicked brother， envying the love all people bore him， and now hearing the fame he had gained by his victory in the duke's palace， intended to destroy him by setting fire to his chamber that night， and in conclusion advised him to escape the danger he was in by instant flight， and， knowing Orlando had no money， Adam （for that was the good old man's name） had brought out with him his own little hoard， and he said: “I have five hundred crowns， the thrifty hire I saved under your father， and laid by to be provision for me when my old limbs should become unfit for service; take that， and He that doth the ravens feed be comfort to my age! Here is the gold; all this I give to you: let me be your servant， Though I look old， I will do the service of a younger man in all your business and necessities.”“O good old man!”said Orlando， “how well appears in you the constant service of the old world! You are not for the fashion of these times.We will go along together， and before your youthful wages are spent I shall light upon some means for both our maintenance.”

Together， then， this faithful servant and his loved master set out; and Orlando and Adam travelled on， uncertain what course to pursue， till they came to the forest of Arden， and there they found themselves in the same distress for want of food that Ganimed and Aliena had been.They wandered on， seeking some human habitation， till they were almost spent with hunger and fatigue.Adam at last said: “O my dear master， I die for want of food.I can go no farther!”He then laid himself down， thinking to make that place his grave， and bade his dear master farewell.Orlando， seeing him in this weak state， took his old servant up in his arms and carried him under the shelter of some pleasant trees， and he said to him: “Cheerly， old Adam; rest your weary limbs here awhile， and do not talk of dying!”

Orlando then searched about to find some food， and he happened to arrive at that part of the forest where the duke was; and he and his friends were just going to eat their dinner， this royal duke being seated on the grass， under no other canopy than the shady covert of some large trees.

Orlando， whom hunger had made desperate， drew his sword， intending to take their meat by force， and said: “Forbear， and eat no more; I must have your food!”The duke asked him if distress had made him so bold， or if he were a rude despiser of good manners.On this Orlando said he was dying with hunger; and then the duke told him he was welcome to sit down and eat with them.Orlando， hearing him speak so gently， put up his sword， and blushed with shame at the rude manner in which he had demanded their food.“Pardon me， I pray you，”said he; “I thought that all things had been savage here， and therefore I put on the countenance of stern command; but whatever men you are， that in this desert， under the shade of melancholy boughs， lose and neglect the creeping hours of time; if ever you have looked on better days; if ever you have been where bells have knolled to church; if you have ever sat at any good man's feast; if ever from your eyelids you have wiped a tear， and know what it is to pity or be pitied， may gentle speeches now move you to do me human courtesy!”The duke replied: “True it is that we are men （as you say） who have seen better days， and， though we have now our habitation in this wild forest， we have lived in towns and cities， and have with holy bell been knolled to church， have sat at good men's feasts， and from our eyes have wiped the drops which sacred pity has engendered.Therefore sit you down， and take of our refreshment as much as will minister to your wants.”“There is an old poor man，”answered Orlando， “who has limped after me many a weary step in pure love， oppressed at once with two sad infirmities， age and hunger; till he be satisfied， I must not touch a bit.”“Go， find him out， and bring him hither，”said the duke; “we will forbear to eat till you return.”Then Orlando went like a doe to kind its fawn and give it food， and presently returned， bringing Adam in his arms; and the duke said: “Set down your venerable burden; you are both welcome.”And they fed the old man and cheered his heart， and he revived， and recovered his health and strength again.

The duke inquired who Orlando was; and when he found that he was the son of his old friend Sir Rowland de Boys， he took him under his protection， and Orlando and his old servant lived with the duke in the forest.

Orlando arrived in the forest not many days after Ganimed and Aliena came there and （as has been before related） bought the shepherd's cottage.

Ganimed and Aliena were strangely surprised to find the name of Rosalind carved on the trees， and love-sonnets fastened to them， all addressed to Rosalind; and while they were wondering how this could be， they met Orlando， and they perceived the chain which Rosalind had given him about his neck.

Orlando little thought that Ganimed was the fair princess Rosalind， who， by her noble condescension and favor， had so won his heart that he passed his whole time in carving her name upon the trees， and writing sonnets in praise of her beauty; but being much pleased with the graceful air of this pretty shepherd-youth， he entered into conversation with him， and he thought he saw a likeness in Ganimed to his beloved Rosalind， but that he had none of the dignified deportment of that noble lady; for Ganimed assumed the forward manners often seen in youths when they are between boys and men， and with much archness and humor talked to Orlando of a certain lover， “who，”said he， “haunts our forest， and spoils our young trees with carving Rosalind upon their barks; and he hangs odes upon hawthorns， and elegies on brambles， all praising this same Rosalind.If I could find this lover， I would give him some good counsel that would soon cure him of his love.”

Orlando confessed that he was the fond lover of whom he spoke， and asked Ganimed to give him the good counsel he talked of.The remedy Ganimed proposed， and the counsel he gave him， was that Orlando should come every day to the cottage where he and his sister Aliena dwelt.“And then，”said Ganimed， “I will feign myself to be Rosalind， and you shall feign to court me in the same manner as you would do if I was Rosalind， and then I will imitate the fantastic ways of whimsical ladies to their lovers， till I make you ashamed of your love; and this is the way I propose to cure you.”Orlando had no great faith in the remedy， yet he agreed to come every day to Ganimed's cottage and feign a playful courtship; and every day Orlando visited Ganimed and Aliena， and Orlando called the shepherd Ganimed his Rosalind， and every day talked over all the fine words and flattering compliments which young men delight to use when they court their mistresses.It does not appear， however， that Ganimed made any progress in curing Orlando of his love for Rosalind.

Though Orlando thought all this was but a sportive play （not dreaming that Ganimed was his very Rosalind）， yet the opportunity it gave him of saying all the fond things he had in his heart pleased his fancy almost as well as it did Ganimed's， who enjoyed the secret jest in knowing these fine love-speeches were all addressed to the right person.

In this manner many days passed pleasantly on with these young people; and the good-natured Aliena， seeing it made Ganimed happy， let him have his own way， and was diverted at the mock-courtship， and did not care to remind Ganimed that the Lady Rosalind had not yet made herself known to the duke her father， whose place of resort in the forest they had learnt from Orlando.Ganimed met the duke one day， and had some talk with him， and the duke asked of what parentage he came.Ganimed answered that he came of as good parentage as he did， which made the duke smile， for he did not suspect the pretty shepherd-boy came of royal lineage.Then seeing the duke look well and happy， Ganimed was content to put off all further explanation for a few days longer.

One morning， as Orlando was going to visit Ganimed， he saw a man lying asleep on the ground， and a large green snake had twisted itself about his neck.The snake， seeing Orlando approach， glided away among the bushes.Orlando went nearer， and then he discovered a lioness lie crouching， with her head on the ground， with a cat-like watch， waiting till the sleeping man awaked （for it is said that lions will prey on nothing that is dead or sleeping）.It seemed as if Orlando was sent by Providence to free the man from the danger of the snake and lioness: but when Orlando looked in the man's face， he perceived that the sleeper who was exposed to this double peril was his own brother Oliver， who had so cruelly used him， and had threatened to destroy him by fire， and he was almost tempted to leave him a prey to the hungry lioness; but brotherly affection and the gentleness of his nature soon overcame his first anger against his brother; and he drew his sword and attacked the lioness and slew her， and thus preserved his brother's life both from the venomous snake and from the furious lioness; but before Orlando could conquer the lioness， she had torn one of his arms with her sharp claws.

While Orlando was engaged with the lioness， Oliver awaked， and perceiving that his brother Orlando， whom he had so cruelly treated， was saving him from the fury of a wild beast at the risk of his own life， shame and remorse at once seized him， and he repented of his unworthy conduct， and besought with many tears his brother's pardon for the injuries he had done him.Orlando rejoiced to see him so penitent， and readily forgave him: they embraced each other， and from that hour Oliver loved Orlando with a true brotherly affection， though he had come to the forest bent on his destruction.

The wound in Orlando's arm having bled very much， he found himself too weak to go to visit Ganimed， and therefore he desired his brother to go and tell Ganimed， “whom，”said Orlando， “I in sport do call my Rosalind，”the accident which had befallen him.

Thither then Oliver went， and told to Ganimed and Aliena how Orlando had saved his life; and when he had finished the story of Orlando's bravery and his own providential escape， he owned to them that he was Orlando's brother， who had so cruelly used him; and then he told them of their reconciliation.

The sincere sorrow that Oliver expressed for his offences made such a lively impression on the kind heart of Aliena， that she instantly fell in love with him; and Oliver observing how much she pitied the distress he told her he felt for his fault， he as suddenly fell in love with her.But while love was thus stealing into the hearts of Aliena and Oliver， he was no less busy with Ganimed， who， hearing of the danger Orlando had been in， and that he was wounded by the lioness， fainted; and when he recovered， he pretended that he had counterfeited the swoon in the imaginary character of Rosalind， and Ganimed said to Oliver， “Tell your brother Orlando how well I counterfeited a swoon.”But Oliver saw by the paleness of his complexion that he did really faint， and， much wondering at the weakness of the young man， he said， “Well， if you did counterfeit， take a good heart， and counterfeit to be a man.”“So I do，”replied Ganimed， truly， “but I should have been a woman by right.”

Oliver made this visit a very long one， and when at last he returned back to his brother he had much news to tell him; for besides the account of Ganimed's fainting at the hearing that Orlando was wounded， Oliver told him how he had fallen in love with the fair shepherdess Aliena， and that she had lent a favorable ear to his suit， even in this their first interview; and he talked to his brother， as of a thing almost settled， that he should marry Aliena， saying that he so well loved her that he would live here as a shepherd， and settle his estate and house at home upon Orlando.

“You have my consent，”said Orlando.“Let your wedding be to-morrow， and I will invite the duke and his friends.Go and persuade your shepherdess to agree to this: she is now alone; for look， here comes her brother.”Oliver went to Aliena; and Ganimed， whom Orlando had perceived approaching， came to inquire after the health of his wounded friend.

When Orlando and Ganimed began to talk over the sudden love which had taken place between Oliver and Aliena， Orlando said he had advised his brother to persuade his fair shepherdess to be married on the morrow， and then he added how much he could wish to be married on the same day to his Rosalind.

Ganimed， who well approved of this arrangement， said that if Orlando really loved Rosalind as well as he professed to do， he should have his wish; for on the morrow he would engage to make Rosalind appear in her own person， and also that Rosalind should be willing to marry Orlando.

This seemingly wonderful event， which， as Ganimed was the lady Rosalind， he could so easily perform， he pretended he would bring to pass by the aid of magic， which he said he had learnt of an uncle who was a famous magician.

The fond lover Orlando， half believing and half doubting what he heard， asked Ganimed if he spoke in sober meaning.“By my life I do，”said Ganimed; “therefore put on your best clothes， and bid the duke and your friends to your wedding; for if you desire to be married to-morrow to Rosalind， she shall be here.”

The next morning， Oliver having obtained the consent of Aliena， they came into the presence of the duke， and with them also came Orlando.

They being all assembled to celebrate this double marriage， and as yet only one of the brides appearing， there was much of wondering and conjecture; but they mostly thought that Ganimed was making a jest of Orlando.

The duke， hearing that it was his own daughter that was to be brought in this strange way， asked Orlando if he believed the shepherd-boy could really do what he had promised; and while Orlando was answering that he knew not what to think， Ganimed entered， and asked the duke， if he brought his daughter， whether he would consent to her marriage with Orlando.“That I would，”said the duke， “if I had kingdoms to give with her.”Ganimed then said to Orlando， “And you say you will marry her if I bring her here?”“That I would，”said Orlando， “if I were king of many kingdoms.”

Ganimed and Aliena then went out together， and Ganimed， throwing off his male attire， and being once more dressed in woman's apparel， quickly became Rosalind without the power of magic; and Aliena， changing her country garb for her own rich clothes， was with as little trouble transformed into the lady Celia.

While they were gone， the duke said to Orlando that he thought the shepherd Ganimed very like his daughter Rosalind; and Orlando said he also had observed the resemblance.

They had no time to wonder how all this would end， for Rosalind and Celia， in their own clothes， entered; and no longer pretending that it was by the power of magic that she came there， Rosalind threw herself on her knees before her father， and begged his blessing.It seemed so wonderful to all present that she should so suddenly appear， that it might well have passed for magic; but Rosalind would no longer trifle with her father， and told him the story of her banishment， and of her dwelling in the forest as a shepherd-boy， her cousin Celia passing as her sister.

The duke ratified the consent he had already given to the marriage; and Orlando and Rosalind， Oliver and Celia， were married at the same time.And though their wedding could not be celebrated in this wild forest with any of the parade or splendor usual on such occasions， yet a happier wedding-day was never passed: and while they were eating their venison under the cool shade of the pleasant trees， as if nothing should be wanting to complete the felicity of this good duke and the true lovers， an unexpected messenger arrived to tell the duke the joyful news that his dukedom was restored to him.

The usurper， enraged at the flight of his daughter Celia， and hearing that every day men of great worth resorted to the forest of Arden to join the lawful duke in his exile， much envying that his brother should be so highly respected in his adversity， put himself at the head of a large force， and advanced toward the forest， intending to seize his brother， and put him with all his faithful followers to the sword， but， by a wonderful interposition of Providence， this bad brother was converted from his evil intention; for just as he entered the skirts of the wild forest， he was met by an old religious man， a hermit， with whom he had much talk， and who in the end completely turned his heart from his wicked design.Thenceforward he became a true penitent， and resolved， relinquishing his unjust dominion， to spend the remainder of his days in a religious house.The first act of his newly conceived penitence was to send a messenger to his brother （as has been related） to offer to restore to him his dukedom， which he had usurped so long， and with it the lands and revenues of his friends， the faithful followers of his adversity.

This joyful news， as unexpected as it was welcome， came opportunely to heighten the festivity and rejoicings at the wedding of the princesses.Celia complimented her cousin on this good fortune which had happened to the duke， Rosalind's father， and wished joy very sincerely， though she herself was no longer heir to the dukedom， but， by this restoration which her father had made， Rosalind was now the heir—so completely was the love of these two cousins unmixed with anything of jealousy or of envy.

The duke had now an opportunity of rewarding those true friends who had stayed with him in his banishment; and these worthy followers， though they had patiently shared his adverse fortune， were very well pleased to return in peace and prosperity to the palace of their lawful duke.

The Merchant of Venice

Shylock， the Jew， lived at Venice.He was a usurer， who had amassed an immense fortune by lending money at great interest to Christian merchants.Shylock， being a hard-hearted man， exacted the payment of the money he lent with such severity that he was much disliked by all good men， and particularly by Antonio， a young merchant of Venice; and Shylock as much hated Antonio， because he used to lend money to people in distress， and would never take any interest for the money he lent; therefore there was great enmity between this covetous Jew and the generous merchant Antonio.Whenever Antonio met Shylock on the Rialto （or Exchange）， he used to reproach him with his usuries and hard dealings， which the Jew would bear with seeming patience， while he secretly meditated revenge.

Antonio was the kindest man that lived， the best conditioned， and had the most unwearied spirit in doing courtesies; indeed， he was one in whom the ancient Roman honor more appeared than in any that drew breath in Italy.He was greatly beloved by all his fellow-citizens; but the friend who was nearest and dearest to his heart was Bassanio， a noble Venetian， who， having but a small patrimony， had nearly exhausted his little fortune by living in too expensive a manner for his slender means， as young men of high rank with small fortunes are too apt to do.Whenever Bassanio wanted money， Antonio assisted him; and it seemed as if they had but one heart and one purse between them.

One day Bassanio came to Antonio， and told him that he wished to repair his fortune by a wealthy marriage with a lady whom he dearly loved， whose father， that was lately dead， had left her sole heiress to a large estate; and that in her father's lifetime he used to visit at her house， when he thought he had observed this lady had sometimes from her eyes sent speechless messages that seemed to say he would be no unwelcome suitor; but not having money to furnish himself with an appearance befitting the lover of so rich an heiress， he besought Antonio to add to the many favors he had shown him， by lending him three thousand ducats.

Antonio had no money by him at that time to lend his friend; but expecting soon to have some ships come home laden with merchandise， he said he would go to Shylock， the rich money-lender， and borrow the money upon the credit of those ships.

Antonio and Bassanio went together to Shylock， and Antonio asked the Jew to lend him three thousand ducats upon any interest he should require， to be paid out of the merchandise contained in his ships at sea.On this， Shylock thought within himself: “If I can once catch him on the hip， I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him: he hates our Jewish nation; he lends out money gratis; and among the merchants he rails at me and my well-earned bargains， which he calls interest.Cursed be my tribe if I forgive him!”Antonio finding he was musing within himself and did not answer， and being impatient for the money， said: “Shylock， do you hear? will you lend the money?”To this question the Jew replied: “Signior Antonio， on the Rialto many a time and often you have railed at me about my moneys and my usuries， and I have borne it with a patient shrug， for sufferance is the badge of all our tribe; and then you have called me unbeliever， cut-throat dog， and spit upon my Jewish garments， and spurned at me with your foot， as if I was a cur.Well， then， it now appears you need my help; and you come to me and say， Shylock， lend me moneys.Has a dog money? Is it possible a cur should lend three thousand ducats? Shall I bend low and say， Fair sir， you spit upon me on Wednesday last， another time you called me dog， and for these courtesies I am to lend you moneys?”Antonio replied: “I am as like to call you so again， to spit on you again， and spurn you too.If you will lend me this money， lend it not to me as to a friend， but rather lend it to me as to an enemy， that， if I break， you may with better face exact the penalty.”“Why， look you，”said Shylock， “how you storm.I would be friends with you， and have your love.I will forget the shames you have put upon me.I will supply your wants， and take no interest for my money.”This seemingly kind offer greatly surprised Antonio; and then Shylock， still pretending kindness， and that all he did was to gain Antonio's love， again said he would lend him the three thousand ducats， and take no interest for his money; only Antonio should go with him to a lawyer， and there sign in merry sport a bond that， if he did not repay the money by a certain day， he would forfeit a pound of flesh， to be cut off from any part of his body that Shylock pleased.

“Content，”said Antonio; “I will sign to this bond， and say there is much kindness in the Jew.”

Bassanio said Antonio should not sign to such a bond for him; but still Antonio insisted that he would sign it， for that， before the day of payment came， his ships would return laden with many times the value of the money.

Shylock， hearing this debate， exclaimed: “O father Abraham， what suspicious people these Christians are! Their own hard dealings teach them to suspect the thoughts of others.I pray you tell me this， Bassanio: if he should break this day， what should I gain by the exaction of the forfeiture? A pound of man's flesh， taken from a man， is not so estimable， nor profitable neither， as the flesh of mutton or of beef.I say， to buy his favor I offer this friendship: if he will take it， so; if not， adieu.”

At last， against the advice of Bassanio， who， notwithstanding all the Jew had said of his kind intentions， did not like his friend should run the hazard of this shocking penalty for his sake， Antonio signed the bond， thinking it really was （as the Jew said） merely in sport.

The rich heiress that Bassanio wished to marry lived near Venice， at a place called Belmont; her name was Portia， and in the graces of her person and her mind she was nothing inferior to that Portia， of whom we read， who was Cato's daughter and the wife of Brutus.

Bassanio being so kindly supplied with money by his friend Antonio， at the hazard of his life， set out for Belmont with a splendid train， and attended by a gentleman of the name of Gratiano.

Bassanio proving successful in his suit， Portia in a short time consented to accept of him for a husband.

Bassanio confessed to Portia that he had no fortune， and that his high birth and noble ancestry were all that he could boast of; she， who loved him for his worthy qualities， and had riches enough not to regard wealth in a husband， answered with a graceful modesty that she would wish herself a thousand times more fair， and ten thousand times more rich， to be more worthy of him; and then the accomplished Portia prettily dispraised herself， and said she was an unlessoned girl， unschooled， unpractised， yet not so old but that she could learn， and that she would commit her gentle spirit to be directed and governed by him in all things; and she said: “Myself and what is mine， to you and yours is now converted.But yesterday， Bassanio， I was the lady of this fair mansion， queen of myself， and mistress over these servants; and now this house， these servants， and myself， are yours， my lord; I give them with this ring，”presenting a ring to Bassanio.

Bassanio was so overpowered with gratitude and wonder at the gracious manner in which the rich and noble Portia accepted of a man of his humble fortunes， that he could not express his joy and reverence to the dear lady who so honored him， by anything but broken words of love and thankfulness; and taking the ring， he vowed never to part with it.

Gratiano and Nerissa， Portia's waiting-maid， were in attendance upon their lord and lady when Portia so gracefully promised to become the obedient wife of Bassanio; and Gratiano， wishing Bassanio and the generous lady joy， desired permission to be married at the same time.

“With all my heart， Gratiano，”said Bassanio， “if you can get a wife.”

Gratiano then said that he loved the lady Portia's fair waiting-gentlewoman Nerissa， and that she had promised to be his wife if her lady married Bassanio.Portia asked Nerissa if this was true.Nerissa replied， “Madam， it is so if you approve of it.”Portia willingly consenting， Bassanio pleasantly said， “Then our wedding-feast shall be much honored by your marriage， Gratiano.”

The happiness of these lovers was sadly crossed at this moment by the entrance of a messenger， who brought a letter from Antonio containing fearful tidings.When Bassanio read Antonio's letter， Portia feared it was to tell him of the death of some dear friend， he looked so pale; and inquiring what was the news which had so distressed him， he said: “O sweet Portia， here are a few of the unpleasantest words that ever blotted paper： gentle lady， when I first imparted my love to you， I freely told you all the wealth I had ran in my veins; but I should have told you that I had less than nothing， being in debt.”Bassanio then told Portia what has been here related， of his borrowing the money of Antonio， and of Antonio's procuring it of Shylock the Jew， and of the bond by which Antonio had engaged to forfeit a pound of flesh if it was not repaid by a certain day: and then Bassanio read Antonio's letter， the words of which were: “Sweet Bassanio， my ships are all lost， my bond to the Jew is forfeited; and since in paying it， it is impossible I should live， I could wish to see you at my death.Notwithstanding， use your pleasure; if your love for me do not persuade you to come， let not my letter.”“O my dear love，”said Portia， “despatch all business， and begone; you shall have gold to pay the money twenty times over， before this kind friend shall lose a hair by my Bassanio's fault; and as you are so dearly bought， I will dearly love you.”Portia then said she would be married to Bassanio before he set out， to give him a legal right to her money; and that same day they were married， and Gratiano was also married to Nerissa; and Bassanio and Gratiano， the instant they were married， set out in great haste for Venice， where Bassanio found Antonio in prison.

The day of payment being past， the cruel Jew would not accept of the money which Bassanio offered him， but insisted upon having a pound of Antonio's flesh.A day was appointed to try this shocking cause before the duke of Venice， and Bassanio awaited in dreadful suspense the event of the trial.

When Portia parted with her husband， she spoke cheeringly to him， and bade him bring his dear friend along with him when he returned; yet she feared it would go hard with Antonio， and when she was left alone she began to think and consider within herself if she could by any means be instrumental in saving the life of her dear Bassanio's friend; and notwithstanding， when she wished to honor her Bassanio she had said to him with such a meek and wife-like grace， that she would submit in all things to be governed by his superior wisdom; yet being now called forth into action by the peril of her honored husband's friend， she did nothing doubt her own powers， and， by the sole guidance of her own true and perfect judgment， at once resolved to go herself to Venice， and speak in Antonio's defence.

Portia had a relation who was a counsellor in the law; to this gentleman， whose name was Bellario， she wrote， and， stating the case to him， desired his opinion， and that with his advice he would also send her the dress worn by a counsellor.When the messenger returned， he brought letters from Bellario of advice how to proceed， and also everything necessary for her equipment.

Portia dressed herself and her maid Nerissa in men's apparel， and putting on the robes of a counsellor， she took Nerissa along with her as her clerk; and setting out immediately， they arrived at Venice on the very day of the trial.The cause was just going to be heard before the duke and senators of Venice in the senate-house， when Portia entered this high court of justice and presented a letter from Bellario， in which that learned counsellor wrote to the duke， saying he would have come himself to plead for Antonio， but that he was prevented by sickness， and he requested that the learned young doctor Balthasar （so he called Portia） might be permitted to plead in his stead.This the duke granted， much wondering at the youthful appearance of the stranger， who was prettily disguised by her counsellor's robes and her large wig.

And now began this important trial.Portia looked around her， and she saw the merciless Jew， and she saw Bassanio， but he knew her not in her disguise.He was standing beside Antonio， in an agony of distress and fear for his friend.

The importance of the arduous task Portia had engaged in gave this tender lady courage， and she boldly proceeded in the duty she had undertaken to perform: and first of all she addressed herself to Shylock; and allowing that he had a right by the Venetian law to have the forfeit expressed in the bond， she spoke so sweetly of the noble quality of mercy as would have softened any heart but the unfeeling Shylock's; saying that it dropped as the gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath; and how mercy was a double blessing， it blessed him that gave， and him that received it; and how it became monarchs better than their crowns， being an attribute of God Himself; and that earthly power came nearest to God's， in proportion as mercy tempered justice; and she bid Shylock remember that as we all pray for mercy， that same prayer should teach us to show mercy.Shylock only answered her by desiring to have the penalty forfeited in the bond.“Is he not able to pay the money?”asked Portia.Bassanio then offered the Jew the payment of the three thousand ducats as many times over as he should desire; which Shylock refusing， and still insisting upon having a pound of Antonio's flesh， Bassanio begged the learned young counsellor would endeavor to wrest the law a little， to save Antonio's life.But Portia gravely answered that laws once established must never be altered.Shylock hearing Portia say that the law might not be altered， it seemed to him that she was pleading in his favor， and he said: “A Daniel is come to judgment! O wise young judge， how I do honor you! How much elder are you than your looks?”

Portia now desired Shylock to let her look at the bond; and when she had read it， she said: “This bond is forfeited; and by this the Jew may lawfully claim a pound of flesh， to be by him cut off nearest Antonio's heart.”Then she said to Shylock: “Be merciful: take the money， and bid me tear the bond.”But no mercy would the cruel Shylock show; and he said， “By my soul I swear， there is no power in the tongue of men to alter me.”“Why， then， Antonio，”said Portia， “you must prepare your bosom for the knife:”and while Shylock was sharpening a long knife with great eagerness to cut off the pound of flesh， Portia said to Antonio， “Have you anything to say?”Antonio with a calm resignation replied that he had but little to say， for that he had prepared his mind for death.Then he said to Bassanio: “Give me your hand， Bassanio! Fare you well! Grieve not that I am fallen into this misfortune for you.Commend me to your honorable wife， and tell her how I have loved you!”Bassanio in the deepest affliction replied: “Antonio， I am married to a wife who is as dear to me as life itself： but life itself， my wife， and all the world are not esteemed with me above your life; I would lose all， I would sacrifice all， to this devil here， to deliver you.”

Portia hearing this， though the kind-hearted lady was not at all offended with her husband for expressing the love he owed to so true a friend as Antonio in these strong terms， yet could not help answering， “Your wife would give you little thanks， if she were present， to hear you make this offer.”And then Gratiano， who loved to copy what his lord did， thought he must make a speech like Bassanio's， and he said， in Nerissa's hearing， who was writing in her clerk's dress by the side of Portia: “I have a wife， whom I protest I love; I wish she were in Heaven if she could but entreat some power there to change the cruel temper of this currish Jew.”“It is well you wish this behind her back， else you would have but an unquiet house，”said Nerissa.

Shylock now cried out impatiently: “We trifle time; I pray pronounce the sentence.”And now all was awful expectation in the court， and every heart was full of grief for Antonio.

Portia asked if the scales were ready to weigh the flesh; and she said to the Jew， “Shylock， you must have some surgeon by， lest he bleed to death.”Shylock， whose whole intent was that Antonio should bleed to death， said， “It is not so named in the bond.”Portia replied: “It is not so named in the bond， but what of that? It were good you did so much for charity.”To this all the answer Shylock would make was: “I cannot find it; it is not in the bond.”“Then，”said Portia， “a pound of Antonio's flesh is thine.The law allows it， and the court awards it.And you may cut this flesh from off his breast.The law allows it， and the court awards it.”Again Shylock exclaimed: “O wise and upright judge! A Daniel is come to judgment!”And then he sharpened his long knife again， and looking eagerly on Antonio， he said， “Come， prepare!”

“Tarry a little， Jew，”said Portia; “there is something else.This bond here gives you no drop of blood; the words expressly are， ‘a pound of flesh.' If in the cutting off the pound of flesh you shed one drop of Christian blood， your lands and goods are by the law to be confiscated to the state of Venice.”Now as it was utterly impossible for Shylock to cut off the pound of flesh without shedding some of Antonio's blood， this wise discovery of Portia's， that it was flesh and not blood that was named in the bond， saved the life of Antonio; and all admiring the wonderful sagacity of the young counsellor， who had so happily thought of this expedient， plaudits resounded from every part of the senate-house; and Gratiano exclaimed， in the words which Shylock had used: “O wise and upright judge! mark， Jew， a Daniel is come to judgment!”

Shylock， finding himself defeated in his cruel intent， said， with a disappointed look， that he would take the money; and Bassanio， rejoiced beyond measure at Antonio's unexpected deliverance， cried out， “Here is the money!”But Portia stopped him， saying: “Softly; there is no haste; the Jew shall have nothing but the penalty: therefore prepare， Shylock， to cut off the flesh; but mind you shed no blood， nor do not cut off more nor less than just a pound; be it more or less by one poor scruple， nay if the scale turn but by the weight of a single hair， you are condemned by the laws of Venice to die， and all your wealth is forfeited to the senate.”“Give me my money， and let me go，”said Shylock.“I have it ready，”said Bassanio: “here it is.”

Shylock was going to take the money， when Portia again stopped him， saying: “Tarry， Jew; I have yet another hold upon you.By the laws of Venice， your wealth is forfeited to the state for having conspired against the life of one of its citizens， and your life lies at the mercy of the duke; therefore， down on your knees and ask him to pardon you.”

The duke then said to Shylock: “That you may see the difference of our Christian spirit， I pardon you your life before you ask it; half your wealth belongs to Antonio， the other half comes to the state.”

The generous Antonio then said that he would give up his share of Shylock's wealth if Shylock would sign a deed to make it over at his death to his daughter and her husband; for Antonio knew that the Jew had an only daughter who had lately married against his consent to a young Christian， named Lorenzo， a friend of Antonio's， which had so offended Shylock， that he had disinherited her.

The Jew agreed to this， and being thus disappointed in his revenge and despoiled of his riches， he said: “I am ill.Let me go home; send the deed after me， and I will sign over half my riches to my daughter.”“Get thee gone， then，”said the duke， “and sign it; and if you repent your cruelty and turn Christian， the state will forgive you the fine of the other half of your riches.”

The duke now released Antonio， and dismissed the court.He then highly praised the wisdom and ingenuity of the young counsellor， and invited him home to dinner.Portia， who meant to return to Belmont before her husband， replied， “I humbly thank your Grace， but I must away directly.”The duke said he was sorry he had not leisure to stay and dine with him; and turning to Antonio， he added: “Reward this gentleman; for in my mind you are much indebted to him.”

The duke and his senators left the court; and then Bassanio said to Portia: “Most worthy gentleman， I and my friend Antonio have by your wisdom been this day acquitted of grievous penalties， and I beg you will accept of the three thousand ducats due unto the Jew.”“And we shall stand indebted to you over and above，”said Antonio， “in love and service evermore.”

Portia could not be prevailed upon to accept the money; but upon Bassanio still pressing her to accept of some reward， she said: “Give me your gloves; I will wear them for your sake;”and then， Bassanio taking off his gloves， she espied the ring which she had given him upon his finger.Now it was the ring the wily lady wanted to get from him， to make a merry jest when she saw her Bassanio again， that made her ask him for his gloves; and she said， when she saw the ring， “And for your love I will take this ring from you.”Bassanio was sadly distressed that the counsellor should ask him for the only thing he could not part with， and he replied in great confusion that he could not give him that ring， because it was his wife's gift， and he had vowed never to part with it; but that he would give him the most valuable ring in Venice， and find it out by proclamation.On this Portia affected to be affronted， and left the court， saying， “You teach me， sir， how a beggar should be answered.”

“Dear Bassanio，”said Antonio， “let him have the ring; let my love and the great service he has done for me be valued against your wife's displeasure.”Bassanio， ashamed to appear so ungrateful， yielded， and sent Gratiano after Portia with the ring; and then the clerk Nerissa， who had also given Gratiano a ring， she begged his ring， and Gratiano （not choosing to be outdone in generosity by his lord） gave it to her.And there was laughing among these ladies to think， when they got home， how they would tax their husbands with giving away their rings， and swear that they had given them as a present to some woman.

Portia， when she returned， was in that happy temper of mind which never fails to attend the consciousness of having performed a good action.Her cheerful spirits enjoyed everything she saw: the moon never seemed to shine so bright before; and when that pleasant moon was hid behind a cloud， then a light which she saw from her house at Belmont as well pleased her charmed fancy， and she said to Nerissa: “That light we see is burning in my hall; how far that little candle throws its beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world;”and hearing the sound of music from her house， she said， “Methinks that music sounds much sweeter than by day.”

And now Portia and Nerissa entered the house， and dressing themselves in their own apparel， they awaited the arrival of their husbands， who soon followed them with Antonio; and Bassanio presenting his dear friend to the lady Portia， the congratulations and welcomings of that lady were hardly over， when they perceived Nerissa and her husband quarrelling in a corner of the room.

“A quarrel already?”said Portia.“What is the matter?”Gratiano replied: “Lady， it is about a paltry gilt ring that Nerissa gave me， with words upon it like the poetry on a cutler's knife: Love me， and leave me not.”

“What does the poetry or the value of the ring signify?”said Nerissa.“You swore to me， when I gave it to you， that you would keep it till the hour of death; and now you say you gave it to the lawyer's clerk.I know you gave it to a woman.”“By this hand，”replied Gratiano， “I gave it to a youth， a kind of boy， a little scrubbed boy， no higher than yourself; he was clerk to the young counsellor that by his wise pleading saved Antonio's life: this prating boy begged it for a fee， and I could not for my life deny him.”Portia said: “You were to blame， Gratiano， to part with your wife's first gift.I gave my lord Bassanio a ring， and I am sure he would not part with it for all the world.”Gratiano， in excuse for his fault， now said: “My lord Bassanio gave his ring away to the counsellor， and then the boy， his clerk， that took some pains in writing， he begged my ring.”

Portia， hearing this， seemed very angry， and reproached Bassanio for giving away her ring; and she said Nerissa had taught her what to believe， and that she knew some woman had the ring.Bassanio was very unhappy to have so offended his dear lady， and he said with great earnestness: “No， by my honor， no woman had it， but a civil doctor， who refused three thousand ducats of me， and begged the ring， which， when I denied him， he went displeased away.What could I do， sweet Portia? I was so beset with shame for my seeming ingratitude that I was forced to send the ring after him.Pardon me， good lady; had you been there， I think you would have begged the ring of me to give the worthy doctor.”

“Ah!”said Antonio， “I am the unhappy cause of these quarrels.”

Portia bid Antonio not to grieve at that， for that he was welcome notwithstanding; and then Antonio said: “I once did lend my body for Bassanio's sake; and but for him to whom your husband gave the ring， I should have now been dead.I dare be bound again， my soul upon the forfeit， your lord will never more break his faith with you.”“Then you shall be his surety，”said Portia; “give him this ring， and bid him keep it better than the other.”

When Bassanio looked at this ring， he was strangely surprised to find it was the same he gave away; and then Portia told him how she was the young counsellor， and Nerissa was her clerk; and Bassanio found， to his unspeakable wonder and delight， that it was by the noble courage and wisdom of his wife that Antonio's life was saved.

And Portia again welcomed Antonio， and gave him letters which by some chance had fallen into her hands， which contained an account of Antonio's ships， that were supposed lost， being safely arrived in the harbor.So these tragical beginnings of this rich merchant's story were all forgotten in the unexpected good fortune which ensued; and there was leisure to laugh at the comical adventure of the rings， and the husbands that did not know their own wives， Gratiano merrily swearing， in a sort of rhyming speech， thatwhile he lived， he'd fear no other thing So sore as keeping safe Nerissa's ring.

Cymbeline

During the time of Augustus Csar， emperor of Rome， there reigned in England （which was then called Britain） a king whose name was Cymbeline.

Cymbeline's first wife died when his three children （two sons and a daughter） were very young.

Imogen， the eldest of these children， was brought up in her father's court; but by a strange chance the two sons of Cymbeline were stolen out of their nursery， when the eldest was but three years of age and the youngest quite an infant; and Cymbeline could never discover what was become of them， or by whom they were conveyed away.

Cymbeline was twice married: his second wife was a wicked， plotting woman， and a cruel stepmother to Imogen， Cymbeline's daughter by his first wife.

The queen， though she hated Imogen， yet wished her to marry a son of her own by a former husband （she also having been twice married）: for by this means she hoped upon the death of Cymbeline to place the crown of Britain upon the head of her son Cloten; for she knew that if the king's sons were not found， the princess Imogen must be the king's heir.But this design was prevented by Imogen herself， who married without the consent or even knowledge of her father or the queen.

Posthumus （for that was the name of Imogen's husband） was the best scholar and most accomplished gentleman of that age.His father died fighting in the wars for Cymbeline， and soon after his birth his mother died， also， for grief at the loss of her husband.

Cymbeline， pitying the helpless state of this orphan， took Posthumus （Cymbeline having given him that name because he was born after his father's death）， and educated him in his own court.

Imogen and Posthumus were both taught by the same masters， and were playfellows from their infancy; they loved each other tenderly when they were children， and their affection continuing to increase with their years， when they grew up they privately married.

The disappointed queen soon learnt this secret， for she kept spies constantly in watch upon the actions of her daughter-in-law， and she immediately told the king of the marriage of Imogen with Posthumus.

Nothing could exceed the wrath of Cymbeline when he heard that his daughter had been so forgetful of her high dignity as to marry a subject.He commanded Posthumus to leave Britain， and banished him from his native country forever.

The queen， who pretended to pity Imogen for the grief she suffered at losing her husband， offered to procure them a private meeting before Posthumus set out on his journey to Rome， which place he had chosen for his residence in his banishment.This seeming kindness she showed， the better to succeed in her future designs in regard to her son Cloten; for she meant to persuade Imogen， when her husband was gone， that her marriage was not lawful， being contracted without the consent of the king.

Imogen and Posthumus took a most affectionate leave of each other.Imogen gave her husband a diamond ring， which had been her mother's， and Posthumus promised never to part with the ring; and he fastened a bracelet on the arm of his wife， which he begged she would preserve with great care， as a token of his love.They then bid each other farewell， with many vows of everlasting love and fidelity.

Imogen remained a solitary and dejected lady in her father's court， and Posthumus arrived at Rome， the place he had chosen for his banishment.

Posthumus fell into company at Rome with some gay young men of different nations， who were talking freely of ladies， each one praising the ladies of his own country， and his own mistress.Posthumus， who had ever his own dear lady in his mind， affirmed that his wife， the fair Imogen， was the most virtuous， wise， and constant lady in the world.

One of these gentlemen， whose name was Iachimo， being offended that a lady of Britain should be so praised above the Roman ladies， his countrywomen， provoked Posthumus by seeming to doubt the constancy of his so highly praised wife; and at length， after much altercation， Posthumus consented to a proposal of Iachimo's， that he （Iachimo） should go to Britain and endeavor to gain the love of the married Imogen.They then laid a wager that if Iachimo did not succeed in this wicked design， he was to forfeit a large sum of money; but if he could win Imogen's favor， and prevail upon her to give him the bracelet which Posthumus had so earnestly desired she would keep as a token of his love， then the wager was to terminate with Posthumus giving to Iachimo the ring which was Imogen's love-present when she parted with her husband.Such firm faith had Posthumus in the fidelity of Imogen that he thought he ran no hazard in this trial of her honor.

Iachimo， on his arrival in Britain， gained admittance， and a courteous welcome from Imogen， as a friend of her husband; but when he began to make professions of love to her， she repulsed him with disdain， and he soon found that he could have no hope of succeeding in his dishonorable design.

The desire Iachimo had to win the wager made him now have recourse to a stratagem， to impose upon Posthumus， and for this purpose he bribed some of Imogen's attendants， and was by them conveyed into her bedchamber， concealed in a large trunk， where he remained shut up till Imogen was retired to rest， and had fallen asleep; and then， getting out of the trunk， he examined the chamber with great attention， and wrote down everything he saw there， and particularly noticed a mole which he observed upon Imogen's neck， and then， softly unloosing the bracelet from her arm which Posthumus had given to her， he retired into the chest again; and the next day he set off for Rome with great expedition， and boasted to Posthumus that Imogen had given him the bracelet， and likewise permitted him to pass a night in her chamber; and in this manner Iachimo told his false tale: “Her bedchamber，”said he， “was hung with tapestry of silk and silver; the story was the proud Cleopatra when she met her Anthony， a piece of work most bravely wrought.”

“This is true，”said Posthumus; “but this you might have heard spoken of， without seeing.”

“Then， the chimney，”said Iachimo， “is south of the chamber， and the chimney-piece is Diana bathing.Never saw I figures livelier expressed.”

“This is a thing you might have likewise heard，”said Posthumus; “for it is much talked of.”

Iachimo as accurately described the roof of the chamber， and added: “I had almost forgot her andirons; they were two winking Cupids made of silver， each on one foot standing.”He then took out the bracelet， and said: “Know you this jewel， sir? She gave me this.She took it from her arm.I see her yet: her pretty action did outsell her gift， and yet enriched it too.She gave it me， and said， she prized it once.”He last of all described the mole he had observed upon her neck.

Posthumus， who had heard the whole of this artful recital in an agony of doubt， now broke out into the most passionate exclamations against Imogen.He delivered up the diamond ring to Iachimo which he had agreed to forfeit to him if he obtained the bracelet from Imogen.

Posthumus then in a jealous rage wrote to Pisanio， a gentleman of Britain， who was one of Imogen's attendants， and had long been a faithful friend to Posthumus; and after telling him what proof he had of his wife's disloyalty， he desired Pisanio would take Imogen to Milford-Haven， a seaport of Wales， and there kill her.And at the same time he wrote a deceitful letter to Imogen， desiring her to go with Pisanio， for that finding he could live no longer without seeing her， though he was forbidden upon pain of death to return to Britain， he would come to Milford-Haven， at which place he begged she would meet him.She， good， unsuspecting lady， who loved her husband above all things， and desired more than her life to see him， hastened her departure with Pisanio， and the same night she received the letter she set out.

When their journey was nearly at an end， Pisanio， who， though faithful to Posthumus， was not faithful to serve him in an evil deed， disclosed to Imogen the cruel order he had received.

Imogen， who， instead of meeting a loving and beloved husband， found herself doomed by that husband to suffer death， was afflicted beyond measure.

Pisanio persuaded her to take comfort， and wait with patient fortitude for the time when Posthumus should see and repent his injustice.In the mean time， as she refused in her distress to return to her father's court， he advised her to dress herself in boy's clothes for more security in travelling; to which advice she agreed， and thought in that disguise she would go over to Rome， and see her husband， whom， though he had used her so barbarously， she could not forget to love.

When Pisanio had provided her with her new apparel， he left her to her uncertain fortune， being obliged to return to court; but before he departed he gave her a phial of cordial， which he said the queen had given him as a sovereign remedy in all disorders.

The queen， who hated Pisanio because he was a friend to Imogen and Posthumus， gave him this phial， which she supposed contained poison， she having ordered her physician to give her some poison， to try its effects （as she said） upon animals; but the physician， knowing her malicious disposition， would not trust her with real poison， but gave her a drug which would do no other mischief than causing a person to sleep with every appearance of death for a few hours.This mixture， which Pisanio thought a choice cordial， he gave to Imogen， desiring her， if she found herself ill upon the road， to take it; and so， with blessings and prayers for her safety and happy deliverance from her undeserved troubles， he left her.

Providence strangely directed Imogen's steps to the dwelling of her two brothers， who had been stolen away in their infancy.Bellarius， who stole them away， was a lord in the court of Cymbeline， and having been falsely accused to the king of treason， and banished from the court， in revenge he stole away the two sons of Cymbeline， and brought them up in a forest， where he lived concealed in a cave.He stole them through revenge， but he soon loved them as tenderly as if they had been his own children， educated them carefully， and they grew up fine youths， their princely spirits leading them to bold and daring actions; and as they subsisted by hunting， they were active and hardy， and were always pressing their supposed father to let them seek their fortune in the wars.

At the cave where these youths dwelt it was Imogen's fortune to arrive.She had lost her way in a large forest， through which her road lay to Milford-Haven （from which she meant to embark for Rome）; and being unable to find any place where she could purchase food， she was with weariness and hunger almost dying; for it is not merely putting on a man's apparel that will enable a young lady， tenderly brought up， to bear the fatigue of wandering about lonely forests like a man.Seeing this cave， she entered， hoping to find some one within of whom she could procure food.She found the cave empty， but looking about she discovered some cold meat， and her hunger was so pressing that she could not wait for an invitation， but sat down and began to eat.

“Ah，”said she， talking to herself， “I see a man's life is a tedious one; how tired am I! for two nights together I have made the ground my bed: my resolution helps me， or I should be sick.When Pisanio showed me Milford-Haven from the mountain-top， how near it seemed!”Then the thoughts of her husband and his cruel mandate came across her， and she said， “My dear Posthumus， thou art a false one!”

The two brothers of Imogen， who had been hunting with their reputed father Bellarius， were by this time returned home.Bellarius had given them the names of Polidore and Cadwal， and they knew no better， but supposed that Bellarius was their father; but the real names of these princes were Guiderius and Arviragus.

Bellarius entered the cave first， and seeing Imogen， stopped them， saying: “Come not in yet; it eats our victuals， or I should think it was a fairy.”

“What is the matter， sir?”said the young men.“By Jupiter，”said Bellarius again， “there is an angel in the cave， or， if not， an earthly paragon.”So beautiful did Imogen look in her boy's apparel.

She， hearing the sound of voices， came forth from the cave， and addressed them in these words: “Good masters， do not harm me; before I entered your cave， I had thought to have begged or bought what I have eaten.Indeed， I have stolen nothing， nor would I， though I had found gold strewed on the floor.Here is money for my meat， which I would have left on the board when I had made my meal， and parted with prayers for the provider.”They refused her money with great earnestness.“I see you are angry with me，”said the timid Imogen; “but， sirs， if you kill me for my fault， know that I should have died if I had not made it.”

“Whither are you bound，”asked Bellarius， “and what is your name?”

“Fidele is my name，”answered Imogen.“I have a kinsman， who is bound for Italy; he embarked at Milford-Haven， to whom being going， almost spent with hunger， I am fallen into this offence.”

“Prithee， fair youth，”said old Bellarius， “do not think us churls， nor measure our good minds by this rude place we live in.You are well encountered; it is almost night.You shall have better cheer before you depart， and thanks to stay and eat it.Boys， bid him welcome.”

The gentle youths， her brothers， then welcomed Imogen to their cave with many kind expressions， saying they would love her （or， as they said， him） as a brother; and they entered the cave， where （they having killed venison when they were hunting） Imogen delighted them with her neat housewifery， assisting them in preparing their supper; for though it is not the custom now for young women of high birth to understand cookery， it was then， and Imogen excelled in this useful art; and， as her brothers prettily expressed it， Fidele cut their roots in characters， and sauced their broth， as if Juno had been sick and Fidele were her dieter.“And then，”said Polidore to his brother， “how angel-like he sings!”

They also remarked to each other that， though Fidele smiled so sweetly， yet so sad a melancholy did overcloud his lovely face， as if grief and patience had together taken possession of him.

For these her gentle qualities （or perhaps it was their near relationship， though they knew it not） Imogen （or， as the boys called her， Fidele） became the doting-piece of her brothers， and she scarcely less loved them， thinking that， but for the memory of her dear Posthumus， she could live and die in the cave with these wild forest youths; and she gladly consented to stay with them till she was enough rested from the fatigue of travelling to pursue her way to Milford-Haven.

When the venison they had taken was all eaten and they were going out to hunt for more， Fidele could not accompany them because she was unwell.Sorrow， no doubt， for her husband's cruel usage， as well as the fatigue of wandering in the forest， was the cause of her illness.

They then bid her farewell， and went to their hunt， praising all the way the noble parts and graceful demeanor of the youth Fidele.

Imogen was no sooner left alone then she recollected the cordial Pisanio had given her， and drank it off， and presently fell into a sound and death-like sleep.

When Bellarius and her brothers returned from hunting， Polidore went first into the cave， and supposing her asleep， pulled off his heavy shoes， that he might tread softly and not awake her.So did true gentleness spring up in the minds of these princely foresters; but he soon discovered that she could not be awakened by any noise， and concluded her to be dead， and Polidore lamented over her with dear and brotherly regret， as if they had never from their infancy been parted.

Bellarius also proposed to carry her out into the forest， and there celebrate her funeral with songs and solemn dirges， as was then the custom.

Imogen's two brothers then carried her to a shady covert， and there laying her gently on the grass， they sang repose to her departed spirit， and covering her over with leaves and flowers， Polidore said: “While summer lasts and I live here， Fidele， I will daily strew thy grave.The pale primrose， that flower most like thy sad face; the blue bell， like thy clear veins; and the leaf of eglantine， which is not sweeter than was thy breath—all these will I strew over thee.Yea， and the furred moss in winter， when there are no flowers to cover thy sweet corse.”

When they had finished her funeral obsequies， they departed very sorrowful.

Imogen had not been long left alone when， the effect of the sleepy drug going off， she awaked， and easily shaking off the slight covering of leaves and flowers they had thrown over her， she arose， and imagining she had been dreaming， she said: “I thought I was a cave-keeper， and cook to honest creatures; how came I here covered with flowers?”Not being able to find her way back to the cave， and seeing nothing of her new companions， she concluded it was certainly all a dream; and once more Imogen set out on her weary pilgrimage， hoping at last she should find her way to Milford-Haven， and thence get a passage in some ship bound for Italy; for all her thoughts were still with her husband Posthumus， whom she intended to seek in the disguise of a page.

But great events were happening at this time， of which Imogen knew nothing; for a war had suddenly broken out between the Roman emperor， Augustus Csar， and Cymbeline， the king of Britain; and a Roman army had landed to invade Britain， and was advanced into the very forest over which Imogen was journeying.With this army came Posthumus.

Though Posthumus came over to Britain with the Roman army， he did not mean to fight on their side against his own countrymen， but intended to join the army of Britain， and fight in the cause of his king， who had banished him.

He still believed Imogen false to him; yet the death of her he had so fondly loved， and by his own orders too （Pisanio having written him a letter to say he had obeyed his command， and that Imogen was dead）， sat heavy on his heart， and therefore he returned to Britain， desiring either to be slain in battle or to be put to death by Cymbeline for returning home from banishment.

Imogen， before she reached Milford-Haven， fell into the hands of the Roman army; and her presence and deportment recommending her， she was made a page to Lucius， the Roman general.

Cymbeline's army now advanced to meet the enemy， and when they entered this forest Polidore and Cadwal joined the king's army.The young men were eager to engage in acts of valor， though they little thought they were going to fight for their own royal father; and old Bellarius went with them to the battle.He had long since repented of the injury he had done to Cymbeline in carrying away his sons; and having been a warrior in his youth， he gladly joined the army to fight for the king he had so injured.

And now a great battle commenced between the two armies， and the Britons would have been defeated， and Cymbeline himself killed， but for the extraordinary valor of Posthumus and Bellarius and the two sons of Cymbeline.They rescued the king and saved his life， and so entirely turned the fortune of the day that the Britons gained the victory.

When the battle was over， Posthumus， who had not found the death he sought for， surrendered himself up to one of the officers of Cymbeline， willing to suffer the death which was to be his punishment if he returned from banishment.

Imogen and the master she served were taken prisoners， and brought before Cymbeline， as was also her old enemy Iachimo， who was an officer in the Roman army; and when these prisoners were before the king， Posthumus was brought in to receive his sentence of death; and at this strange juncture of time， Bellarius with Polidore and Cadwal were also brought before Cymbeline， to receive the rewards due to the great services they had by their valor done for the king.Pisanio， being one of the king's attendants， was likewise present.

Therefore there were now standing in the king's presence （but with very different hopes and fears） Posthumus， and Imogen with her new master the Roman general; the faithful servant Pisanio， and the false friend Iachimo; and likewise the two lost sons of Cymbeline， with Bellarius， who had stolen them away.

The Roman general was the first who spoke; the rest stood silent before the king， though there was many a beating heart among them.

Imogen saw Posthumus， and knew him， though he was in the disguise of a peasant; but he did not know her in her male attire; and she knew Iachimo， and she saw a ring on his finger which she perceived to be her own， but she did not know him as yet to have been the author of all her troubles: and she stood before her own father a prisoner of war.

Pisanio knew Imogen， for it was he who had dressed her in the garb of a boy.“It is my mistress，”thought he; “since she is living， let the time run on to good or bad.”Bellarius knew her too， and softly said to Cadwal， “Is not this boy revived from death?”“One sand，”replied Cadwal， “does not more resemble another than that sweet， rosy lad is like the dead Fidele.”“The same dead thing alive，”said Polidore.“Peace， peace，”said Bellarius; “if it were he， I am sure he would have spoken to us.”“But we saw him dead，”again whispered Polidore.“Be silent，”replied Bellarius.

Posthumus waited in silence to hear the welcome sentence of his own death; and he resolved not to disclose to the king that he had saved his life in the battle， lest that should move Cymbeline to pardon him.

Lucius， the Roman general， who had taken Imogen under his protection as his page， was the first （as has been before said） who spoke to the king.He was a man of high courage and noble dignity， and this was his speech to the king:

“I hear you take no ransom for your prisoners， but doom them all to death.I am a Roman， and with a Roman heart will suffer death.But there is one thing for which I would entreat.”Then bringing Imogen before the king， he said: “This boy is a Briton born.Let him be ransomed.He is my page.Never master had a page so kind， so duteous， so diligent on all occasions， so true， so nurse-like.He hath done no Briton wrong， though he hath served a Roman.Save him， if you spare no one beside.”

Cymbeline looked earnestly on his daughter Imogen.He knew her not in that disguise; but it seemed that all-powerful Nature spake in his heart， for he said: “I have surely seen him; his face appears familiar to me.I know not why or wherefore I say， Live， boy; but I give you your life， and ask of me what boon you will， and I will grant it you.Yea， even though it be the life of the noblest prisoner I have.”

“I humbly thank your Highness，”said Imogen.

What was then called granting a boon was the same as a promise to give any one thing， whatever it might be， that the person on whom that favor was conferred chose to ask for.They all were attentive to hear what thing the page would ask for; and Lucius her master said to her: “I do not beg my life， good lad; but I know that is what you will ask for.”“No， no， alas!”said Imogen; “I have other work in hand， good master; your life I cannot ask for.”

This seeming want of gratitude in the boy astonished the Roman general.

Imogen then， fixing her eye on Iachimo， demanded no other boon than this: that Iachimo should be made to confess whence he had the ring he wore on his finger.

Cymbeline granted her this boon， and threatened Iachimo with the torture if he did not confess how he came by the diamond ring on his finger.

Iachimo then made a full acknowledgment of all his villany， telling， as has been before related， the whole story of his wager with Posthumus， and how he had succeeded in imposing upon his credulity.

What Posthumus felt at hearing this proof of the innocence of his lady cannot be expressed.He instantly came forward， and confessed to Cymbeline the cruel sentence which he had enjoined Pisanio to execute upon the princess; exclaiming wildly: “O Imogen， my queen， my life， my wife! O Imogen， Imogen， Imogen!”

Imogen could not see her beloved husband in this distress without discovering herself， to the unutterable joy of Posthumus， who was thus relieved from a weight of guilt and woe， and restored to the good graces of the dear lady he had so cruelly treated.

Cymbeline， almost as much overwhelmed as he with joy at finding his lost daughter so strangely recovered， received her to her former place in his fatherly affection， and not only gave her husband Posthumus his life， but consented to acknowledge him for his son-in-law.

Bellarius chose this time of joy and reconciliation to make his confession.He presented Polidore and Cadwal to the king， telling him they were his two lost sons， Guiderius and Arviragus.

Cymbeline forgave old Bellarius; for who could think of punishments at a season of such universal happiness? To find his daughter living， and his lost sons in the persons of his two young deliverers， that he had seen so bravely fight in his defence， was unlooked-for joy indeed!

Imogen was now at leisure to perform good services for her late master， the Roman general Lucius， whose life the king her father readily granted at her request; and by the mediation of the same Lucius a peace was concluded between the Romans and the Britons， which was kept inviolate many years.

How Cymbeline's wicked queen， through despair of bringing her projects to pass， and touched with remorse of conscience， sickened and died， having first lived to see her foolish son Cloten slain in a quarrel which he had provoked， are events too tragical to interrupt this happy conclusion by more than merely touching upon.It is sufficient that all were made happy who were deserving; and even the treacherous Iachimo， in consideration of his villany having missed its final aim， was dismissed without punishment.

King Lear

Lear， king of Britain， had three daughters Gonerill， wife to the duke of Albany; Regan， wife to the duke of Cornwall; and Cordelia， a young maid， for whose love the king of France and duke of Burgundy were joint suitors， and were at this time making stay for that purpose in the court of Lear.

The old king， worn out with age and the fatigues of government， he being more than fourscore years old， determined to take no further part in state affairs， but to leave the management to younger strengths， that he might have time to prepare for death， which must at no long period ensue.With this intent he called his three daughters to him， to know from their own lips which of them loved him best， that he might part his kingdom among them in such proportions as their affection for him should seem to deserve.

Gonerill， the eldest， declared that she loved her father more than words could give out， that he was dearer to her than the light of her own eyes， dearer than life and liberty， with a deal of such professing stuff， which is easy to counterfeit where there is no real love， only a few fine words delivered with confidence being wanted in that case.The king， delighted to hear from her own mouth this assurance of her love， and thinking truly that her heart went with it， in a fit of fatherly fondness bestowed upon her and her husband one-third of his ample kingdom.

Then calling to him his second daughter， he demanded what she had to say.Regan， who was made of the same hollow metal as her sister， was not a whit behind in her professions， but rather declared that what her sister had spoken came short of the love which she professed to bear for his Highness; insomuch that she found all other joys dead， in comparison with the pleasure which she took in the love of her dear king and father.

Lear blessed himself in having such loving children， as he thought; and could do no less， after the handsome assurances which Regan had made， than bestow a third of his kingdom upon her and her husband， equal in size to that which he had already given away to Gonerill.

Then turning to his youngest daughter， Cordelia， whom he called his joy， he asked what she had to say， thinking no doubt that she would glad his ears with the same loving speeches which her sisters had uttered， or rather that her expressions would be so much stronger than theirs， as she had always been his darling， and favored by him above either of them.But Cordelia， disgusted with the flattery of her sisters， whose hearts she knew were far from their lips， and seeing that all their coaxing speeches were only intended to wheedle the old king out of his dominions， that they and their husbands might reign in his lifetime， made no other reply but this—that she loved his majesty according to her duty， neither more nor less.

The king， shocked with this appearance of ingratitude in his favorite child， desired her to consider her words and to mend her speech， lest it should mar her fortunes.

Cordelia then told her father that he was her father， that he had given her breeding， and loved her; that she returned those duties back as was most fit， and did obey him， love him， and most honor him.But that she could not frame her mouth to such large speeches as her sisters had done， or promise to love nothing else in the world.Why had her sisters husbands， if （as they said） they had no love for anything but their father? If she should ever wed， she was sure the lord to whom she gave her hand would want half her love， half of her care and duty; she should never marry like her sisters， to love her father all.

Cordelia， who in earnest loved her old father even almost as extravagantly as her sisters pretended to do， would have plainly told him so at any other time， in more daughter-like and loving terms， and without these qualifications， which did indeed sound a little ungracious; but after the crafty， flattering speeches of her sisters， which she had seen draw such extravagant rewards， she thought the handsomest thing she could do was to love and be silent This put her affection out of suspicion of mercenary ends， and showed that she loved， but not for gain; and that her professions， the less ostentatious they were， had so much the more of truth and sincerity than her sisters'.

This plainness of speech， which Lear called pride， so enraged the old monarch—who in his best of times always showed much of spleen and rashness， and in whom the dotage incident to old age had so clouded over his reason that he could not discern truth from flattery nor a gay-painted speech from words that came from the heart—that in a fury of resentment he retracted the third part of his kingdom which yet remained， and which he had reserved for Cordelia， and gave it away from her， sharing it equally between her two sisters and their husbands， the dukes of Albany and Cornwall， whom he now called to him， and in presence of all his courtiers， bestowing a coronet between them， invested them jointly with all the power， revenue， and execution of government， only retaining to himself the name of king; all the rest of royalty he resigned， with this reservation： that himself， with a hundred knights for his attendants， was to be maintained by monthly course in each of his daughters' palaces in turn.

So preposterous a disposal of his kingdom， so little guided by reason， and so much by passion， filled all his courtiers with astonishment and sorrow; but none of them had the courage to interpose between this incensed king and his wrath except the earl of Kent， who was beginning to speak a good word for Cordelia， when the passionate Lear， on pain of death， commanded him to desist; but the good Kent was not so to be repelled.He had been ever loyal to Lear， whom he had honored as a king， loved as a father， followed as a master; and he had never esteemed his life further than as a pawn to wage against his royal master's enemies， nor feared to lose it when Lear's safety was the motive; nor now that Lear was most his own enemy， did this faithful servant of the king forget his old principles， but manfully opposed Lear， to do Lear good， and was unmannerly only because Lear was mad.He had been a most faithful counsellor in times past to the king， and he besought him now that he would see with his eyes （as he had done in many weighty matters）， and go by his advice still; and in his best consideration recall this hideous rashness: for he would answer with his life， his judgment that Lear's youngest daughter did not love him least， nor were those empty-hearted whose low sound gave no token of hollowness.When power bowed to flattery， honor was bound to plainness.For Lear's threats， what could he do to him， whose life was already at his service? That should not hinder duty from speaking.

The honest freedom of this good earl of Kent only stirred up the king's wrath the more， and like a frantic patient who kills his physician and loves his mortal disease， he banished this true servant， and allotted him but five days to make his preparations for departure; but if on the sixth this hated person was found within the realm of Britain， that moment was to be his death.And Kent bade farewell to the king， and said that， since he chose to show himself in such fashion， it was but banishment to stay there; and before he went， he recommended Cordelia to the protection of the gods， the maid who had so rightly thought and so discreetly spoken; and only wished that her sisters' large speeches might be answered with deeds of love; and then he went， as he said， to shape his old course to a new country.

The king of France and duke of Burgundy were now called in to hear the determination of Lear about his youngest daughter， and to know whether they would persist in their courtship to Cordelia， now that she was under her father's displeasure， and had no fortune but her own person to recommend her: and the duke of Burgundy declined the match， and would not take her to wife upon such conditions; but the king of France， understanding what the nature of the fault had been which had lost her the love of her father， that it was only a tardiness of speech， and the not being able to frame her tongue to flattery like her sisters， took this young maid by the hand， and saying that her virtues were a dowry above a kingdom， bade Cordelia to take farewell of her sisters and of her father， though he had been unkind， and she should go with him， and be queen of him and of fair France， and reign over fairer possessions than her sisters; and he called the duke of Burgundy in contempt a waterish duke， because his love for this young maid had in a moment run all away like water.

Then Cordelia with weeping eyes took leave of her sisters， and besought them to love their father well， and make good their professions; and they sullenly told her not to prescribe to them， for they knew their duty; but to strive to content her husband， who had taken her （as they tauntingly expressed it） as Fortune's alms.And Cordelia with a heavy heart departed， for she knew the cunning of her sisters， and she wished her father in better hands than she was about to leave him in.

Cordelia was no sooner gone than the devilish dispositions of her sisters began to show themselves in their true colors.Even before the expiration of the first month， which Lear was to spend by agreement with his eldest daughter Gonerill， the old king began to find out the difference between promises and performances.This wretch having got from her father all that he had to bestow， even to the giving away of the crown from off his head， began to grudge even those small remnants of royalty which the old man had reserved to himself， to please his fancy with the idea of being still a king.She could not bear to see him and his hundred knights.Every time she met her father she put on a frowning countenance; and when the old man wanted to speak with her， she would feign sickness， or anything to be rid of the sight of him; for it was plain that she esteemed his old age a useless burden， and his attendants an unnecessary expense.Not only she herself slackened in her expressions of duty to the king， but by her example， and （it is to be feared） not without her private instructions， her very servants affected to treat him with neglect， and would either refuse to obey his orders， or still more contemptuously pretend not to hear them.Lear could not but perceive this alteration in the behavior of his daughter， but he shut his eyes against it as long as he could， as people commonly are unwilling to believe the unpleasant consequences which their own mistakes and obstinacy have brought upon them.

True love and fidelity are no more to be estranged by ill， than falsehood and hollow-heartedness can be conciliated by good， usage.This eminently appears in the instance of the good earl of Kent， who， though banished by Lear， and his life made forfeit if he were found in Britain， chose to stay and abide all consequences， as long as there was a chance of his being useful to the king his master.See to what mean shifts and disguises poor loyalty is forced to submit sometimes; yet it counts nothing base or unworthy， so as it can but do service where it owes an obligation! In the disguise of a serving-man， all his greatness and pomp laid aside， this good earl proffered his services to the king， who， not knowing him to be Kent in that disguise， but pleased with a certain plainness， or rather bluntness， in his answers， which the earl put on （so different from that smooth， oily flattery which he had so much reason to be sick of， having found the effects not answerable in his daughter）， a bargain was quickly struck， and Lear took Kent into his service by the name of Caius， as he called himself， never suspecting him to be his once great favorite， the high and mighty earl of Kent.

This Caius quickly found means to show his fidelity and love to his royal master; for Gonerill's steward that same day， behaving in a disrespectful manner to Lear， and giving him saucy looks and language， as no doubt he was secretly encouraged to do by his mistress， Caius， not enduring to hear so open an affront put upon his majesty， made no more ado but presently tripped up his heels， and laid the unmannerly slave in the kennel; for which friendly service Lear became more and more attached to him.

Nor was Kent the only friend Lear had.In his degree， and as far as so insignificant a personage could show his love， the poor fool or jester that had been of his palace while Lear had a palace， as it was the custom of kings and great personages at that time to keep a fool （as he was called） ，to make them sport after serious business—this poor fool clung to Lear after he had given away his crown， and by his witty sayings would keep up his good humor， though he could not refrain sometimes from jeering at his master for his imprudence in uncrowning himself， and giving all away to his daughters; at which time， as he rhymingly expressed it， these daughters

“For sudden joy did weep，

And he for sorrow sung，

That such a king should play bo-peep

And go the fools among.”

And in such wild sayings and scraps of songs， of which he had plenty， this pleasant， honest fool poured out his heart， even in the presence of Gonerill herself， in many a bitter taunt and jest which cut to the quick—such as comparing the king to the hedge-sparrow， who feeds the young of the cuckoo till they grow old enough， and then has its head bit off for its pains; and saying that an ass may know when the cart draws the horse （meaning that Lear's daughters， that ought to go behind， now ranked before their father）; and that Lear was no longer Lear， but the shadow of Lear: for which free speeches he was once or twice threatened to be whipped.

The coolness and falling off of respect which Lear had begun to perceive were not all which this foolish， fond father was to suffer from his unworthy daughter.She now plainly told him that his staying in her palace was inconvenient so long as he insisted upon keeping up an establishment of a hundred knights; that this establishment was useless and expensive， and only served to fill her court with riot and feasting; and she prayed him that he would lessen their number， and keep none but old men about him， such as himself， and fitting his age.

Lear at first could not believe his eyes or ears， nor that it was his daughter who spoke so unkindly.He could not believe that she who had received a crown from him could seek to cut off his train and grudge him the respect due to his old age.But she persisting in her undutiful demand， the old man's rage was so excited that he called her a detested kite， and said that she spoke an untruth; and so indeed she did， for the hundred knights were all men of choice behavior and sobriety of manners， skilled in all particulars of duty， and not given to rioting or feasting， as she said.And he bid his horses to be prepared， for he would go to his other daughter Regan， he and his hundred knights; and he spoke of ingratitude， and said it was a marble-hearted devil， and showed more hideous in a child than the sea-monster.And he cursed his eldest daughter Gonerill so as was terrible to hear; praying that she might never have a child， or， if she had， that it might live to return that scorn and contempt upon her which she had shown to him: that she might feel how sharper than a serpent's tooth it was to have a thankless child.And Gonerill's husband， the duke of Albany， beginning to excuse himself for any share which Lear might suppose he had in the unkindness， Lear would not hear him out， but in a rage ordered his horses to be saddled， and set out with his followers for the abode of Regan， his other daughter.And Lear thought to himself how small the fault of Cordelia （if it was a fault） now appeared， in comparison with her sister's， and he wept; and then he was ashamed that such a creature as Gonerill should have so much power over his manhood as to make him weep.

Regan and her husband were keeping their court in great pomp and state at their palace; and Lear despatched his servant Caius with letters to his daughter， that she might be prepared for his reception， while he and his train followed after.But it seems that Gonerill had been beforehand with him， sending letters also to Regan， accusing her father of waywardness and ill-humors， and advising her not to receive so great a train as he was bringing with him.This messenger arrived at the same time with Caius， and Caius and he met; and who should it be but Caius' old enemy the steward， whom he had formerly tripped up by the heels for his saucy behavior to Lear.Caius， not liking the fellow's look， and suspecting what he came for， began to revile him， and challenged him to fight， which the fellow refusing， Caius， in a fit of honest passion， beat him soundly， as such a mischief-maker and carrier of wicked messages deserved; which coming to the ears of Regan and her husband， they ordered Caius to be put in the stocks， though he was a messenger from the king her father， and in that character demanded the highest respect; so that the first thing the king saw when he entered the castle was his faithful servant Caius sitting in that disgraceful situation.

This was but a bad omen of the reception which he was to expect; but a worse followed， when upon inquiry for his daughter and her husband， he was told they were weary with travelling all night， and could not see him; and when， lastly， upon his insisting in a positive and angry manner to see them， they came to greet him， whom should he see in their company but the hated Gonerill， who had come to tell her own story， and set her sister against the king her father!

This sight much moved the old man， and still more to see Regan take her by the hand; and he asked Gonerill if she was not ashamed to look upon his old white beard.And Regan advised him to go home again with Gonerill， and live with her peaceably， dismissing half of his attendants， and to ask her forgiveness; for he was old and wanted discretion， and must be ruled and led by persons that had more discretion than himself.And Lear showed how preposterous that would sound， if he were to go down on his knees， and beg of his own daughter for food and raiment， and he argued against such an unnatural dependence， declaring his resolution never to return with her， but to stay where he was with Regan， he and his hundred knights; for he said that she had not forgot the half of the kingdom which he had endowed her with， and that her eyes were not fierce like Gonerill's， but mild and kind.And he said that rather than return to Gonerill， with half his train cut off， he would go over to France， and beg a wretched pension of the king there， who had married his youngest daughter without a portion.

But he was mistaken in expecting kinder treatment of Regan than he had experienced from her sister Gonerill.As if willing to outdo her sister in unfilial behavior， she declared that she thought fifty knights too many to wait upon him; that five-and-twenty were enough.Then Lear， nigh heart-broken， turned to Gonerill， and said that he would go back with her， for her fifty doubled five-and-twenty， and so her love was twice as much as Regan's.But Gonerill excused herself， and said: what need of so many as five-and-twenty? or even ten? or five? when he might be waited upon by her servants， or her sister's servants? So these two wicked daughters， as if they strove to exceed each other in cruelty to their old father， who had been so good to them， by little and little would have abated him of all his train， all respect （little enough for him that once commanded a kingdom） which was left him to show that he had once been a king! Not that a splendid train is essential to happiness， but from a king to a beggar is a hard change， from commanding millions to be without one attendant; and it was the ingratitude in his daughters' denying it， more than what he could suffer by the want of it， which pierced this poor king to the heart; insomuch， that with this double ill-usage， and vexation for having so foolishly given away a kingdom， his wits began to be unsettled， and while he said he knew not what， he vowed revenge against those unnatural hags， and to make examples of them that should be a terror to the earth!

While he was thus idly threatening what his weak arm could never execute， night came on， and a loud storm of thunder and lightning with rain; and his daughters still persisting in their resolution not to admit his followers， he called for his horses， and chose rather to encounter the utmost fury of the storm abroad than stay under the same roof with these ungrateful daughters; and they， saying that the injuries which wilful men procure to themselves are their just punishment， suffered him to go in that condition， and shut their doors upon him.

The winds were high， and the rain and storm increased， when the old man sallied forth to combat with the elements， less sharp than his daughters' unkindness.For many miles about there was scarce a bush; and there， upon a heath， exposed to the fury of the storm in a dark night， did king Lear wander out， and defy the winds and the thunder; and he bid the winds to blow the earth into the sea， or swell the waves of the sea till they drowned the earth， that no token might remain of any such ungrateful animal as man.The old king was now left with no other companion than the poor fool， who still abided with him， with his merry conceits striving to out-jest misfortune， saying it was but a naughty night to swim in， and truly the king had better go in and ask his daughter's blessing:

“But he that has a little tiny wit，

With heigh-ho， the wind and the rain!

Must make content with his fortunes fit，

Though the rain it raineth every day”：

and swearing it was a brave night to cool a lady's pride.

Thus poorly accompanied， this once great monarch was found by his ever-faithful servant， the good earl of Kent， now transformed to Caius， who ever followed close at his side， though the king did not know him to be the earl; and he said: “Alas! sir， are you here? creatures that love night， love not such nights as these.This dreadful storm has driven the beasts to their hiding-places.Man's nature cannot endure the affliction or the fear.”And Lear rebuked him， and said these lesser evils were not felt where a greater malady was fixed.When the mind is at ease， the body has leisure to be delicate; but the tempest in his mind did take all feeling else from his senses， but of that which beat at his heart.And he spoke of filial ingratitude， and said it was all one as if the mouth should tear the hand for lifting food to it; for parents were hands and food and everything to children.

But the good Caius still persisting in his entreaties that the king would not stay out in the open air， at last persuaded him to enter a little wretched hovel which stood upon the heath， where the fool first entering， suddenly ran back terrified， saying that he had seen a spirit.But upon examination this spirit proved to be nothing more than a poor Bedlam beggar， who had crept into this deserted hovel for shelter， and with his talk about devils frighted the fool; one of those poor lunatics who are either mad， or feign to be so， the better to extort charity from the compassionate country people， who go about the country， calling themselves poor Tom and poor Turlygood， saying: “Who gives anything to poor Tom?”sticking pins and nails and sprigs of rosemary into their arms to make them bleed; and with such horrible actions， partly by prayers， and partly with lunatic curses， they move or terrify the ignorant country-folks into giving them alms.This poor fellow was such a one; and the king， seeing him in so wretched a plight， with nothing but a blanket about his loins to cover his nakedness， could not be persuaded but that the fellow was some father who had given all away to his daughters， and brought himself to that pass; for nothing， he thought， could bring a man to such wretchedness but the having unkind daughters.

And from this and many such wild speeches which he uttered， the good Caius plainly perceived that he was not in his perfect mind， but that his daughters' ill-usage had really made him go mad.And now， the loyalty of this worthy earl of Kent showed itself in more essential services than he had hitherto found opportunity to perform.For with the assistance of some of the king's attendants who remained loyal， he had the person of his royal master removed at daybreak to the castle of Dover， where his own friends and influence， as earl of Kent， chiefly lay; and himself embarking for France， hastened to the court of Cordelia， and did there in such moving terms represent the pitiful condition of her royal father， and set out in such lively colors the inhumanity of her sisters， that this good and loving child with many tears besought the king her husband that he would give her leave to embark for England， with a sufficient power to subdue these cruel daughters and their husbands， and restore the old king her father to his throne; which being granted， she set forth， and with a royal army landed at Dover.

Lear having by some chance escaped from the guardians which the good earl of Kent had put over him to take care of him in his lunacy， was found by some of Cordelia's train， wandering about the fields near Dover， in a pitiable condition， stark mad， and singing aloud to himself， with a crown upon his head which he had made of straw， and nettles， and other wild weeds that he had picked up in the corn-fields.By the advice of the physicians， Cordelia， though earnestly desirous of seeing her father， was prevailed upon to put off the meeting， till by sleep and the operation of herbs which they gave him he should be restored to greater composure.By the aid of these skilful physicians， to whom Cordelia promised all her gold and jewels for the recovery of the old king， Lear was soon in a condition to see his daughter.

A tender sight it was to see the meeting between this father and daughter; to see the struggles between the joy of this poor old king at beholding again his once darling child， and the shame at receiving such filial kindness from her whom he had cast off for so small a fault， in his displeasure; both these passions struggling with the remains of his malady， which in his half-crazed brain sometimes made him that he scarce remembered where he was， or who it was that so kindly kissed him and spoke to him; and then he would beg the standers-by not to laugh at him， if he were mistaken in thinking this lady to be his daughter Cordelia! And then to see him fall on his knees to beg pardon of his child; and she， good lady， kneeling all the while to ask a blessing of him， and telling him that it did not become him to kneel， but it was her duty， for she was his child， his true and very child Cordelia! and she kissed him （as she said） to kiss away all her sisters' unkindness， and said that they might be ashamed of themselves to turn their old， kind father with his white beard out into the cold air， when her enemy's dog， though it had bit her （as she prettily expressed it）， should have stayed by her fire such a night as that， and warmed himself.And she told her father how she had come from France with purpose to bring him assistance; and he said that she must forget and forgive， for he was old and foolish， and did not know what he did; but that to be sure she had great cause not to love him， but her sisters had none.And Cordelia said that she had no cause no more than they had.

So we will leave this old king in the protection of this dutiful and loving child， where， by the help of sleep and medicine， she and her physicians at length succeeded in winding up the untuned and jarring senses which the cruelty of his other daughters had so violently shaken.Let us return to say a word or two about those cruel daughters.

These monsters of ingratitude， who had been so false to their old father， could not be expected to prove more faithful to their own husbands.They soon grew tired of paying even the appearance of duty and affection， and in an open way showed they had fixed their loves upon another.It happened that the object of their guilty loves was the same.It was Edmund， a natural son of the late earl of Gloucester， who by his treacheries had succeeded in disinheriting his brother Edgar， the lawful heir， from his earldom， and by his wicked practices was now earl himself; a wicked man， and a fit object for the love of such wicked creatures as Gonerill and Regan.It falling out about this time that the duke of Cornwall， Regan's husband， died， Regan immediately declared her intention of wedding this earl of Gloucester， which rousing the jealousy of her sister， to whom as well as to Regan this wicked earl had at sundry times professed love， Gonerill found means to make away with her sister by poison; but being detected in her practices， and imprisoned by her husband， the duke of Albany， for this deed， and for her guilty passion for the earl， which had come to his ears， she， in a fit of disappointed love and rage， shortly put an end to her own life.Thus the justice of Heaven at last overtook these wicked daughters.

While the eyes of all men were upon this event， admiring the justice displayed in their deserved deaths， the same eyes were suddenly taken off from this sight to admire at the mysterious ways of the same power in the melancholy fate of the young and virtuous daughter， the lady Cordelia， whose good deeds did seem to deserve a more fortunate conclusion; but it is an awful truth， that innocence and piety are not always successful in this world.The forces which Gonerill and Regan had sent out under the command of the bad earl of Gloucester were victorious， and Cordelia， by the practices of this wicked earl， who did not like that any should stand between him and the throne， ended her life in prison.Thus Heaven took this innocent lady to itself in her young years， after showing her to the world an illustrious example of filial duty.Lear did not long survive this kind child.

Before he died， the good earl of Kent， who had still attended his old master's steps from the first of his daughters' ill-usage to this sad period of his decay， tried to make him understand that it was he who had followed him under the name of Caius; but Lear's care-crazed brain at that time could not comprehend how that could be， or how Kent and Caius could be the same person; so Kent thought it needless to trouble him with explanations at such a time; and Lear soon after expiring， this faithful servant to the king， between age and grief for his old master's vexations， soon followed him to the grave.

How the judgment of Heaven overtook the bad earl of Gloucester， whose treasons were discovered， and himself slain in single combat with his brother， the lawful earl; and how Gonerill's husband， the duke of Albany， who was innocent of the death of Cordelia， and had never encouraged his lady in her wicked proceedings against her father， ascended the throne of Britain after the death of Lear， is needless here to narrate; Lear and his three daughters being dead， whose adventures alone concern our story.

Macbeth

When Duncan the Meek reigned king of Scotland， there lived a great thane， or lord， called Macbeth.This Macbeth was a near kinsman to the king， and in great esteem at court for his valor and conduct in the wars; an example of which he had lately given， in defeating a rebel army assisted by the troops of Norway in terrible numbers.

The two Scottish generals， Macbeth and Banquo， returning victorious from this great battle， their way lay over a blasted heath， where they were stopped by the strange appearance of three figures like women， except that they had beards， and their withered skins and wild attire made them look not like any earthly creatures.Macbeth first addressed them， when they， seemingly offended， laid each one her choppy finger upon her skinny lips， in token of silence; and the first of them saluted Macbeth with the title of thane of Glamis.The general was not a little startled to find himself known by such creatures; but how much more， when the second of them followed up that salute by giving him the title of thane of Cawdor， to which honor he had no pretensions; and again the third bid him “All hail! king that shalt be hereafter!”Such a prophetic greeting might well amaze him， who knew that while the king's sons lived he could not hope to succeed to the throne.Then， turning to Banquo， they pronounced him， in a sort of riddling terms， to be lesser than Macbeth and greater! not so happy， but much happier! and prophesied that， though he should never reign， yet his sons after him should be kings in Scotland.They then turned into air and vanished; by which the generals knew them to be the weird sisters or witches.

While they stood pondering on the strangeness of this adventure， there arrived certain messengers from the king， who were empowered by him to confer upon Macbeth the dignity of thane of Cawdor An event so miraculously corresponding with the prediction of the witches astonished Macbeth， and he stood wrapped in amazement， unable to make reply to the messengers; and in that point of time swelling hopes arose in his mind that the prediction of the third witch might in like manner have its accomplishment， and that he should one day reign king in Scotland.

Turning to Banquo， he said: “Do you not hope that your children shall be kings， when what the witches promised to me has so wonderfully come to pass?”“That hope，”answered the general， “might enkindle you to aim at the throne; but oftentimes these ministers of darkness tell us truths in little things， to betray us into deeds of greatest consequence.”

But the wicked suggestions of the witches had sunk too deep into the mind of Macbeth to allow him to attend to the warnings of the good Banquo.From that time he bent all his thoughts how to compass the throne of Scotland.

Macbeth had a wife， to whom he communicated the strange prediction of the weird sisters and its partial accomplishment.She was a bad， ambitious woman， and so as her husband and herself could arrive at greatness， she cared not much by what means.She spurred on the reluctant purpose of Macbeth， who felt compunction at the thoughts of blood， and did not cease to represent the murder of the king as a step absolutely necessary to the fulfilment of the flattering prophecy.

It happened at this time that the king， who out of his royal condescension would oftentimes visit his principal nobility upon gracious terms， came to Macbeth's house， attended by his two sons， Malcolm and Donaldbain， and a numerous train of thanes and attendants， the more to honor Macbeth for the triumphal success of his wars.

The castle of Macbeth was pleasantly situated， and the air about it was sweet and wholesome， which appeared by the nests which the martlet， or swallow， had built under all the jutting friezes and buttresses of the building， wherever it found a place of advantage; for where those birds most breed and haunt the air is observed to be delicate.The king entered well pleased with the place， and not less so with the attentions and respect of his honored hostess， lady Macbeth， who had the art of covering treacherous purposes with smiles; and could look like the innocent flower， while she was indeed the serpent under it.

The king， being tired with his journey， went early to bed， and in his state-room two grooms of his chamber （as was the custom） slept beside him.He had been unusually pleased with his reception， and had made presents before he retired to his principal officers; and among the rest， had sent a rich diamond to lady Macbeth， greeting her by the name of his most kind hostess.

Now was the middle of night， when over half the world nature seems dead， and wicked dreams abuse men's minds asleep， and none but the wolf and the murderer is abroad.This was the time when lady Macbeth waked to plot the murder of the king.She would not have undertaken a deed so abhorrent to her sex， but that she feared her husband's nature， that it was too full of the milk of human kindness to do a contrived murder.She knew him to be ambitious， but withal to be scrupulous， and not yet prepared for that height of crime which commonly in the end accompanies inordinate ambition.She had won him to consent to the murder， but she had doubted his resolution; and she feared that the natural tenderness of his disposition （more humane than her own） would come between， and defeat the purpose.So with her own hands armed with a dagger， she approached the king's bed; having taken care to ply the grooms of his chamber so with wine， that they slept intoxicated， and careless of their charge.There lay Duncan in a sound sleep after the fatigues of his journey， and as she viewed him earnestly， there was something in his face， as he slept， which resembled her own father; and she had not the courage to proceed.

She returned to confer with her husband.His resolution had begun to stagger.He considered that there were strong reasons against the deed.In the first place， he was not only a subject， but a near kinsman to the king; and he had been his host and entertainer that day， whose duty， by the laws of hospitality， it was to shut the door against his murderers， not bear the knife himself.Then he considered how just and merciful a king this Duncan had been， how clear of offence to his subjects， how loving to his nobility， and in particular to him; that such kings are the peculiar care of Heaven， and their subjects doubly bound to revenge their deaths.Besides， by the favors of the king， Macbeth stood high in the opinion of all sorts of men， and how would those honors be stained by the reputation of so foul a murder!

In these conflicts of the mind lady Macbeth found her husband inclining to the better part， and resolving to proceed no further.But she， being a woman not easily shaken from her evil purpose， began to pour in at his ears words which infused a portion of her own spirit into his mind， assigning reason upon reason why he should not shrink from what he had undertaken; how easy the deed was; how soon it would be over; and how the action of one short night would give to all their nights and days to come sovereign sway and royalty! Then she threw contempt on his change of purpose， and accused him of fickleness and cowardice; and declared that she had given suck， and knew how tender it was to love the babe that milked her; but she would， while it was smiling in her face， have plucked it from her breast， and dashed its brains out， if she had so sworn to do it， as he had sworn to perform that murder.Then she added， how practicable it was to lay the guilt of the deed upon the drunken， sleepy grooms.And with the valor of her tongue she so chastised his sluggish resolution， that he once more summoned up courage to the bloody business.

So， taking the dagger in his hand， he softly stole in the dark to the room where Duncan lay; and as he went， he thought he saw another dagger in the air， with the handle toward him， and on the blade and at the point of it drops of blood; but when he tried to grasp at it， it was nothing but air， a mere phantasm proceeding from his own hot and oppressed brain and the business he had in hand.

Getting rid of this fear， he enters the king's room， whom he despatched with one stroke of his dagger.Just as he had done the murder， one of the grooms， who slept in the chamber， laughed in his sleep， and the other cried， “Murder，”which woke them both; but they said a short prayer; one of them said， “God bless us!”and the other answered “Amen;”and addressed themselves to sleep again.Macbeth， who stood listening to them， tried to say， “Amen，”when the fellow said， “God bless us!”but， though he had most need of a blessing， the word stuck in his throat， and he could not pronounce it.

Again he thought he heard a voice which cried， “Sleep no more；Macbeth doth murder sleep， the innocent sleep， that nourishes life.”Still it cried， “Sleep no more，”to all the house.“Glamis hath murdered sleep， and therefore Cawdor shall sleep no more， Macbeth shall sleep no more.”

With such horrible imaginations Macbeth returned to his listening wife， who began to think he had failed of his purpose， and that the deed was somehow frustrated.He came in so distracted a state， that she reproached him with his want of firmness， and sent him to wash his hands of the blood which stained them， while she took his dagger， with purpose to stain the cheeks of the grooms with blood， to make it seem their guilt.

Morning came， and with it the discovery of the murder， which could not be concealed; and though Macbeth and his lady made great show of grief， and the proofs against the grooms （the dagger being produced against them and their faces smeared with blood） were sufficiently strong， yet the entire suspicion fell upon Macbeth， whose inducements to such a deed were so much more forcible than such poor silly grooms could be supposed to have; and Duncan's two sons fled.Malcolm， the eldest， sought for refuge in the English court; and the youngest， Donaldbain， made his escape to Ireland.

The king's sons， who should have succeeded him， having thus vacated the throne， Macbeth as next heir was crowned king， and thus the prediction of the weird sisters was literally accomplished.

Though placed so high， Macbeth and his queen could not forget the prophecy of the weird sisters， that， though Macbeth should be king， yet not his children， but the children of Banquo， should be kings after him.The thought of this， and that they had defiled their hands with blood， and done so great crimes， only to place the posterity of Banquo upon the throne， so rankled within them， that they determined to put to death both Banquo and his son， to make void the predictions of the weird sisters， which in their own case had been so remarkably brought to pass.

For this purpose they made a great supper， to which they invited all the chief thanes; and， among the rest， with marks of particular respect， Banquo and his son Fleance were invited.The way by which Banquo was to pass to the palace at night was beset by murderers appointed by Macbeth， who stabbed Banquo; but in the scuffle Fleance escaped.From that Fleance descended a race of monarchs who afterward filled the Scottish throne， ending with James the Sixth of Scotland and the First of England， under whom the two crowns of England and Scotland were united.

At supper， the queen， whose manners were in the highest degree affable and royal， played the hostess with a gracefulness and attention which conciliated every one present， and Macbeth discoursed freely with his thanes and nobles， saying， that all that was honorable in the country was under his roof， if he had but his good friend Banquo present， whom yet he hoped he should rather have to chide for neglect than to lament for any mischance.Just at these words the ghost of Banquo， whom he had caused to be murdered， entered the room， and placed himself on the chair which Macbeth was about to occupy.Though Macbeth was a bold man， and one that could have faced the devil without trembling， at this horrible sight his cheeks turned white with fear， and he stood quite unmanned with his eyes fixed upon the ghost.His queen and all the nobles， who saw nothing， but perceived him gazing （as they thought） upon an empty chair， took it for a fit of distraction; and she reproached him， whispering that it was but the same fancy which made him see the dagger in the air， when he was about to kill Duncan.But Macbeth continued to see the ghost， and gave no heed to all they could say， while he addressed it with distracted words， yet so significant， that his queen， fearing the dreadful secret would be disclosed， in great haste dismissed the guests， excusing the infirmity of Macbeth as a disorder he was often troubled with.

To such dreadful fancies Macbeth was subject.His queen and he had their sleeps afflicted with terrible dreams， and the blood of Banquo troubled them not more than the escape of Fleance， whom now they looked upon as father to a line of kings， who should keep their posterity out of the throne.With these miserable thoughts they found no peace， and Macbeth determined once more to seek out the weird sisters， and know from them the worst.

He sought them in a cave upon the heath， where they， who knew by foresight of his coming， were engaged in preparing their dreadful charms， by which they conjured up infernal spirits to reveal to them futurity.Their horrid ingredients were toads， bats， and serpents， the eye of a newt， and the tongue of a dog， the leg of a lizard， and the wing of the night owl， the scale of a dragon， the tooth of a wolf， the maw of the ravenous salt-sea shark， the mummy of a witch， the root of the poisonous hemlock （this to have effect must be digged in the dark）， the gall of a goat， and the liver of a Jew， with slips of the yew tree that roots itself in graves， and the finger of a dead child; all these were set on to boil in a great kettle， or caldron， which， as fast as it grew too hot， was cooled with a baboon's blood: to these they poured in the blood of a sow that had eaten her young， and they threw into the flame the grease that had sweaten from a murderer's gibbet.By these charms they bound the infernal spirits to answer their questions.

It was demanded of Macbeth， whether he would have his doubts resolved by them， or by their masters， the spirits.He， nothing daunted by the dreadful ceremonies which he saw， boldly answered: “Where are they? let me see them.”And they called the spirits， which were three.And the first arose in the likeness of an armed head， and called Macbeth by name， and bid him beware of the thane of Fife; for which caution Macbeth thanked him; for Macbeth had entertained a jealousy of Macduff， the thane of Fife.

And the second spirit arose in the likeness of a bloody child， and he called Macbeth by name， and bid him have no fear， but laugh to scorn the power of man， for none of woman born should have power to hurt him; and he advised him to be bloody， bold， and resolute.“Then live， Macduff!”cried the king; “what need I fear of thee? but yet I will make assurance doubly sure.Thou shalt not live; that I may tell pale-hearted Fear it lies， and sleep in spite of thunder.”

That spirit being dismissed， a third arose in the form of a child crowned， with a tree in his hand.He called Macbeth by name， and comforted him against conspiracies， saying that he should never be vanquished until the wood of Birnam to Dunsinane Hill should come against him.“Sweet bodements! good!”cried Macbeth; “who can unfix the forest， and move it from its earth-bound roots? I see I shall live the usual period of man's life， and not be cut off by a violent death.But my heart throbs to know one thing.Tell me， if your art can tell so much， if Banquo's issue shall ever reign in this kingdom?”Here the caldron sank into the ground， and a noise of music was heard， and eight shadows， like kings， passed by Macbeth， and Banquo last， who bore a glass which showed the figures of many more， and Banquo all bloody smiled upon Macbeth， and pointed to them; by which Macbeth knew that these were the posterity of Banquo， who should reign after him in Scotland; and the witches， with a sound of soft music， and with dancing， making a show of duty and welcome to Macbeth， vanished.And from this time the thoughts of Macbeth were all bloody and dreadful.

The first thing he heard when he got out of the witches' cave， was that Macduff， thane of Fife， had fled to England， to join the army which was forming against him under Malcolm， the eldest son of the late king， with intent to displace Macbeth， and set Malcolm， the right heir， upon the throne.Macbeth， stung with rage， set upon the castle of Macduff， and put his wife and children， whom the thane had left behind， to the sword， and extended the slaughter to all who claimed the least relationship to Macduff.

These and such-like deeds alienated the minds of all his chief nobility from him.Such as could， fled to join with Malcolm and Macduff， who were now approaching with a powerful army which they had raised in England; and the rest secretly wished success to their arms， though for fear of Macbeth they could take no active part.His recruits went on slowly.Everybody hated the tyrant， nobody loved or honored him; but all suspected him， and he began to envy the condition of Duncan， whom he had murdered， who slept soundly in his grave， against whom treason had done its worst; steel nor poison， domestic malice nor foreign levies， could hurt him any longer.

While these things were acting， the queen， who had been the sole partner in his wickedness， in whose bosom he could sometimes seek a momentary repose from those terrible dreams which afflicted them both nightly， died， it is supposed by her own hands， unable to bear the remorse of guilt， and public hate; by which event he was left alone， without a soul to love or care for him， or a friend to whom he could confide his wicked purposes.

He grew careless of life， and wished for death; but the near approach of Malcolm's army roused in him what remained of his ancient courage， and he determined to die （as he expressed it）， “with armor on his back.”Besides this， the hollow promises of the witches had filled him with a false confidence， and he remembered the sayings of the spirits， that none of woman born was to hurt him， and that he was never to be vanquished till Birnam wood should come to Dunsinane， which he thought could never be.So he shut himself up in his castle， whose impregnable strength was such as defied a siege; here he sullenly a waited the approach of Malcolm.When， upon a day， there came a messenger to him， pale and shaking with fear， almost unable to report that which he had seen; for he averred， that as he stood upon his watch on the hill， he looked toward Birnam， and to his thinking the wood began to move! “Liar and slave，”cried Macbeth; “if thou speakest false， thou shalt hang alive upon the next tree， till famine end thee.If thy tale be true， I care not if thou dost as much by me:”for Macbeth now began to faint in resolution， and to doubt the equivocal speeches of the spirits.He was not to fear till Birnam wood should come to Dunsinane; and now a wood did move! “However，”said he， “if this which he avouches be true， let us arm and out.There is no flying hence， nor staying here.I begin to be weary of the sun， and wish my life at an end.”With these desperate speeches he sallied forth upon the besiegers， who had now come up to the castle.

The strange appearance which had given the messenger an idea of a wood moving is easily solved.When the besieging army marched through the wood of Birnam， Malcolm， like a skilful general， instructed his soldiers to hew down every one a bough and bear it before him， by way of concealing the true numbers of his host.This marching of the soldiers with boughs had at a distance the appearance which had frightened the messenger.Thus were the words of the spirit brought to pass， in a sense different from that in which Macbeth had understood them， and one great hold of his confidence was gone.

And now a severe skirmishing took place， in which Macbeth， though feebly supported by those who called themselves his friends， but in reality hated the tyrant and inclined to the party of Malcolm and Macduff， yet fought with the extreme of rage and valor， cutting to pieces all who were opposed to him， till he came to where Macduff was fighting.Seeing Macduff， and remembering the caution of the spirit who had counselled him to avoid Macduff above all men， he would have turned， but Macduff， who had been seeking him through the whole fight， opposed his turning， and a fierce contest ensued; Macduff giving him many foul reproaches for the murder of his wife and children.Macbeth， whose soul was charged enough with blood of that family already， would still have declined the combat; but Macduff still urged him to it， calling him tyrant， murderer， hell-hound， and villain.

Then Macbeth remembered the words of the spirit， how none of woman born should hurt him; and， smiling confidently， he said to Macduff: “Thou losest thy labor， Macduff.As easily thou mayest impress the air with thy sword as make me vulnerable.I bear a charmed life， which must not yield to one of woman born.”

“Despair thy charm，”said Macduff， “and let that lying spirit whom thou hast served tell thee that Macduff was never born of woman， never as the ordinary manner of men is to be born， but was untimely taken from his mother.”

“Accursed be the tongue which tells me so，”said the trembling Macbeth， who felt his last hold of confidence give way; “and let never man in future believe the lying equivocations of witches and juggling spirits， who deceive us in words which have double senses， and while they keep their promise literally， disappoint our hopes with a different meaning.I will not fight with thee!”

“Then live!”said the scornful Macduff; “we will have a show of thee， as men show monsters， and a painted board， on which shall be written: ‘Here men may see the tyrant!'”

“Never，”said Macbeth， whose courage returned with despair; “I will not live to kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet， and to be baited with the curses of the rabble.Though Birnam wood be come to Dunsinane， and thou opposed to me， who wast never born of woman， yet will I try the last.”With these frantic words he threw himself upon Macduff， who， after a severe struggle， in the end overcame him， and cutting off his head， made a present of it to the young and lawful king， Malcolm; who took upon him the government which， by the machinations of the usurper， he had so long been deprived of， and ascended the throne of Duncan the Meek amid the acclamations of the nobles and the people.

Twelfth Night

Sevastian and his sister Viola， a young gentleman and lady of Messaline， were twins， and （which was accounted a great wonder） from their birth they so much resembled each other that， but for the difference in their dress， they could not be known apart.They were both born in one hour， and in one hour they were both in danger of perishing， for they were shipwrecked on the coast of Illyria， as they were making a sea-voyage together.The ship， on board of which they were， split on a rock in a violent storm， and a very small number of the ship's company escaped with their lives.The captain of the vessel， with a few of the sailors that were saved， got to land in a small boat， and with them they brought Viola safe on shore， where she， poor lady， instead of rejoicing at her own deliverance， began to lament her brother's loss; but the captain comforted her with the assurance that he had seen her brother， when the ship split， fasten himself to a strong mast， on which， as long as he could see anything of him for the distance， he perceived him borne up above the waves.Viola was much consoled by the hope this account gave her， and now considered how she was to dispose of herself in a strange country， so far from home; and she asked the captain if he knew anything of Illyria.“Ay， very well， madam，”replied the captain， “for I was born not three hours' travel from this place.”“Who governs here?”said Viola.The captain told her Illyria was governed by Orsino， a duke noble in nature as well as dignity.Viola said she had heard her father speak of Orsino， and that he was unmarried then.“And he is so now，”said the captain， “or was so very lately， for but a month ago I went from here， and then it was the general talk （as you know what great ones do， the people will prattle of） that Orsino sought the love of fair Olivia， a virtuous maid， the daughter of a count who died twelve months ago， leaving Olivia to the protection of her brother， who shortly after died also; and for the love of this dear brother， they say， she has abjured the sight and company of men.”Viola， who was herself in such a sad affliction for her brother's loss， wished she could live with this lady， who so tenderly mourned a brother's death.She asked the captain if he could introduce her to Olivia， saying she would willingly serve this lady.But he replied this would be a hard thing to accomplish， because the lady Olivia would admit no person into her house since her brother's death， not even the duke himself.Then Viola formed another project in her mind， which was， in a man's habit， to serve the duke Orsino as a page.It was a strange fancy in a young lady to put on male attire， and pass for a boy; but the forlorn and unprotected state of Viola， who was young and of uncommon beauty， alone， and in a foreign land， must plead her excuse.

She having observed a fair behavior in the captain， and that he showed a friendly concern for her welfare， intrusted him with her design， and he readily engaged to assist her.Viola gave him money， and directed him to furnish her with suitable apparel， ordering her clothes to be made of the same color and in the same fashion her brother Sebastian used to wear， and， when she was dressed in her manly garb， she looked so exactly like her brother that some strange errors happened by means of their being mistaken for each other; for， as will afterward appear， Sebastian was also saved.

Viola's good friend the captain， when he had transformed this pretty lady into a gentleman， having some interest at court， got her presented to Orsino under the feigned name of Cesario.The duke was wonderfully pleased with the address and graceful deportment of this handsome youth， and made Cesario one of his pages， that being the office Viola wished to obtain; and she so well fulfilled the duties of her new station， and showed such a ready observance and faithful attachment to her lord， that she soon became his most favorite attendant.To Cesario， Orsino confided the whole history of his love for the lady Olivia.To Cesario he told the long and unsuccessful suit he had made to one who， rejecting his long services， and despising his person， refused to admit him to her presence; and for the love of this lady， who had so unkindly treated him， the noble Orsino， forsaking the sports of the field and all manly exercises in which he used to delight， passed his hours in ignoble sloth， listening to the effeminate sounds of soft music， gentle airs， and passionate love songs; and neglecting the company of the wise and learned lords with whom he used to associate， he was now all day long conversing with young Cesario.Unmeet companion no doubt his grave courtiers thought Cesario was for their once noble master， the great duke Orsino.

It is a dangerous matter for young maidens to be the confidants of handsome young dukes， which Viola too soon found to her sorrow; for all that Orsino told her he endured for Olivia， she presently perceived she suffered for the love of him; and much it moved her wonder， that Olivia could be so regardless of this her peerless lord and master， whom she thought no one could behold without the deepest admiration， and she ventured gently to hint to Orsino that it was pity he should affect a lady who was so blind to his worthy qualities; and she said: “If a lady were to love you， my lord， as you love Olivia （and perhaps there may be one who does）， if you could not love her in return， would you not tell her that you could not love， and must she not be content with this answer?”But Orsino would not admit of this reasoning， for he denied that it was possible for any woman to love as he did.He said no woman's heart was big enough to hold so much love， and therefore it was unfair to compare the love of any lady for him to his love for Olivia.Now， though Viola had the utmost deference for the duke's opinions， she could not help thinking this was not quite true， for she thought her heart had full as much love in it as Orsino's had; and she said: “Ah， but I know， my lord.”“What do you know， Cesario?”said Orsino.“Too well I know，”replied Viola， “what love women may owe to men.They are as true of heart as we are.My father had a daughter loved a man， as I perhaps， were I a woman， should love your lordship.”“And what is her history?”said Orsino.“A blank， my lord，”replied Viola; “she never told her love， but let concealment， like a worm in the bud， prey on her damask cheek.She pined in thought; and with a green and yellow melancholy， she sat like Patience on a monument， smiling at Grief.”The duke inquired if this lady died of her love， but to this question Viola returned an evasive answer; as probably she had feigned the story， to speak words expressive of the secret love and silent grief she suffered for Orsino.

While they were talking， a gentleman entered whom the duke had sent to Olivia， and he said: “So please you， my lord， I might not be admitted to the lady， but by her handmaid she returned you this answer: Until seven years hence， the element itself shall not behold her face; but like a cloistress she will walk veiled， watering her chamber with her tears for the sad remembrance of her dead brother.”On hearing this， the duke exclaimed: “Oh， she that has a heart of this fine frame， to pay this debt of love to a dead brother， how will she love， when the rich golden shaft has touched her heart!”And then he said to Viola: “You know， Cesario， I have told you all the secrets of my heart; therefore， good youth， go to Olivia's house.Be not denied access; stand at her doors， and tell her there your fixed foot shall grow till you have audience.”“And if I do speak to her， my lord， what then?”said Viola.“Oh， then，”replied Orsino， “unfold to her the passion of my love.Make a long discourse to her of my dear faith.It will well become you to act my woes， for she will attend more to you than to one of graver aspect.”

Away then went Viola; but not willingly did she undertake this courtship， for she was to woo a lady to become a wife to him she wished to marry: but having undertaken the affair， she performed it with fidelity; and Olivia soon heard that a youth was at her door who insisted upon being admitted to her presence.“I told him，”said the servant， “ that you were sick; he said he knew you were， and therefore he came to speak with you.I told him that you were asleep; he seemed to have a foreknowledge of that too， and said that therefore he must speak with you.What is to be said to him， lady? for he seems fortified against all denial， and will speak with you， whether you will or no.”Olivia， curious to see who this peremptory messenger might be， desired he might be admitted; and throwing her veil over her face， she said she would once more hear Orsino's embassy， not doubting but that he came from the duke， by his importunity.Viola， entering， put on the most manly air she could assume， and， affecting the fine courtier language of great men's pages， she said to the veiled lady: “Most radiant， equisite， and matchless beauty， I pray you tell me if you are the lady of the house; for I should be sorry to cast away my speech upon another; for besides that it is excellently well penned， I have taken great pains to learn it.”“Whence come you， sir?”said Olivia.“I can say little more than I have studied，”replied Viola; “and that question is out of my part.”“Are you a comedian?”said Olivia.“No，”replied Viola; “and yet I am not that which I play;”meaning that she， being a woman， feigned herself to be a man.And again she asked Olivia if she were the lady of the house.Olivia said she was; and then Viola， having more curiosity to see her rival's features than haste to deliver her master's message， said: “Good madam， let me see your face.”With this bold request Olivia was not averse to comply; for this haughty beauty， whom the duke Orsino had loved so long in vain， at first sight conceived a passion for the supposed page， the humble Cesario.

When Viola asked to see her face， Olivia said: “Have you any commission from your lord and master to negotiate with my face?”And then， forgetting her determination to go veiled for seven long years， she drew aside her veil， saying: “But I will draw the curtain and show the picture.Is it not well done?”Viola replied: “It is beauty truly mixed; the red and white upon your cheeks is by Nature's own cunning hand laid on.You are the most cruel lady living if you will lead these graces to the grave， and leave the world no copy.”“Oh， sir，”replied Olivia， “I will not be so cruel.The world may have an inventory of my beauty.As， item， two lips， indifferent red; item， two gray eyes， with lids to them; one neck; one chin; and so forth.Were you sent here to praise me?”Viola replied: “I see what you are: you are too proud， but you are fair.My lord and master loves you.Oh， such a love could but be recompensed， though you were crowned the queen of beauty; for Orsino loves you with adoration and with tears， with groans that thunder love， and sighs of fire.”“Your lord，”said Olivia， “knows well my mind.I cannot love him; yet I doubt not he is virtuous; I know him to be noble， and of high estate， of fresh and spotless youth.All voices proclaim him learned， courteous， and valiant; yet I cannot love him; he might have taken his answer long ago.”“If I did love you as my master does，”said Viola， “I would make me a willow cabin at your gates， and call upon your name; I would write complaining sonnets on Olivia， and sing them in the dead of the night; your name should sound among the hills， and I would make Echo， the babbling gossip of the air， cry out Olivia.Oh，you should not rest between the elements of earth and air， but you should pity me.”“You might do much，”said Olivia; “what is your parentage?”Viola replied: “Above my fortunes， yet my state is well.I am a gentleman.”Olivia now reluctantly dismissed Viola， saying: “Go to your master， and tell him I cannot love him.Let him send no more， unless perchance you come again to tell me how he takes it.”And Viola departed， bidding the lady farewell by the name of Fair Cruelty.When she was gone， Olivia repeated the words: Above my fortunes， yet my state is well.I am a gentleman.And she said aloud: “I will be sworn he is; his tongue， his face， his limbs， action， and spirit plainly show he is a gentleman.”And then she wished Cesario was the duke; and perceiving the fast hold he had taken on her affections， she blamed herself for her sudden love; but the gentle blame which people lay upon their own faults has no deep root; and presently the noble lady Olivia so far forgot the inequality between her fortunes and those of this seeming page， as well as the maidenly reserve which is the chief ornament of a lady's character， that she resolved to court the love of young Cesario， and sent a servant after him with a diamond ring， under the pretence that he had left it with her as a present from Orsino.She hoped by thus artfully making Cesario a present of the ring， she should give him some intimation of her design; and truly it did make Viola suspect; for knowing that Orsino had sent no ring by her， she began to recollect that Olivia's looks and manner were expressive of admiration， and she presently guessed her master's mistress had fallen in love with her.“Alas!”said she， “the poor lady might as well love a dream.Disguise I see is wicked， for it has caused Olivia to breathe as fruitless sighs for me as I do for Orsino.”

Viola returned to Orsino's palace， and related to her lord the ill success of the negotiation， repeating the command of Olivia that the duke should trouble her no more.Yet still the duke persisted in hoping that the gentle Cesario would in time be able to persuade her to show some pity， and therefore he bade him he should go to her again the next day.In the mean time， to pass away the tedious interval， he commanded a song which he loved to be sung; and he said: “My good Cesario， when I heard that song last night， me thought it did relieve my passion much.Mark it， Cesario; it is old and plain.The spinsters and the knitters when they sit in the sun， and the young maids that weave their thread with bone， chant this song.It is silly， yet I love it， for it tells of the innocence of love in the old times.”

“Come away， come away， Death，

And in sad cypress let me be laid;

Fly away， fly away， breath，

I am slain by a fair cruel maid.

My shroud of white stuck all with yew， Oh， prepare it;

My part of death no one so true did share it.

“Not a flower， not a flower sweet，

On my black coffin let there be strown:

Not a friend， not a friend greet

My poor corpse， where my bones shall be thrown.

A thousand thousand sighs to save， lay me， Oh， where

Sad true lover never find my grave， to weep there.”

Viola did not fail to mark the words of the old song， which in such true simplicity described the pangs of unrequited love， and she bore testimony in her countenance of feeling what the song expressed.Her sad looks were observed by Orsino， who said to her: “My life upon it， Cesario， though you are so young， your eye has looked upon some face that it loves; has it not， boy?”“A little， with your leave，”replied Viola.“And what kind of woman， and of what age is she?”said Orsino.“ Of your age and of your complexion， my lord，”said Viola; which made the duke smile to hear this fair young boy loved a woman so much older than himself， and of a man's dark complexion; but Viola secretly meant Orsino， and not a woman like him.

When Viola made her second visit to Olivia， she found no difficulty in gaining access to her.Servants soon discover when their ladies delight to converse with handsome young messengers; and the instant Viola arrived， the gates were thrown wide open， and the duke's page was shown into Olivia's apartment with great respect; and when Viola told Olivia that she was come once more to plead in her lord's behalf， this lady said: “I desired you never to speak of him again; but if you would undertake another suit， I had rather hear you solicit， than music from the spheres.”This was pretty plain speaking， but Olivia soon explained herself still more plainly， and openly confessed her love; and when she saw displeasure with perplexity expressed in Viola's face， she said: “Oh， what a deal of scorn looks beautiful in the contempt and anger of his lip! Cesario， by the roses of the spring， by maidenhood， honor， and by truth， I love you so that， in spite of your pride， I have neither wit nor reason to conceal my passion.”But in vain the lady wooed; Viola hastened from her presence， threatening never more to come to plead Orsino's love; and all the reply she made to Olivia's fond solicitation was， a declaration of a resolution Never to love any woman.

No sooner had Viola left the lady than a claim was made upon her valor.A gentleman， a rejected suitor of Olivia， who had learned how that lady had favored the duke's messenger， challenged him to fight a duel.What should poor Viola do， though she carried a manlike outside， had a true woman's heart， and feared to look on her own sword?

When she saw her formidable rival advancing toward her with his sword drawn， she began to think of confessing that she was a woman; but she was relieved at once from her terror， and the shame of such a discovery， by a stranger that was passing by， who made up to them， and as if he had been long known to her， and were her dearest friend， said to her opponent: “If this young gentleman has done offence， I will take the fault on me; and if you offend him， I will for his sake defy you.”Before Viola had time to thank him for his protection， or to inquire the reason of his kind interference， her new friend met with an enemy where his bravery was of no use to him; for the officers of justice coming up in that instant， apprehended the stranger in the duke's name， to answer for an offence he had committed some years before; and he said to Viola: “This comes with seeking you;”and then he asked her for a purse， saying: “Now my necessity makes me ask for my purse， and it grieves me much more for what I cannot do for you than for what befalls myself.You stand amazed， but be of comfort.”His words did indeed amaze Viola， and she protested she knew him not， nor had ever received a purse from him; but for the kindness he had just shown her， she offered him a small sum of money， being nearly the whole she possessed.And now the stranger spoke severe things， charging her with ingratitude and unkindness.He said: “This youth， whom you see here， I snatched from the jaws of death; and for his sake alone I came to Illyria， and have fallen into this danger.”But the officers cared little for harkening to the complaints of their prisoner， and they hurried him off， saying: “What is that to us?”And as he was carried away， he called Viola by the name of Sebastian， reproaching the supposed Sebastian for disowning his friend， as long as he was within hearing.When Viola heard herself called Sebastian， though the stranger was taken away too hastily for her to ask an explanation， she conjectured that this seeming mystery might arise from her being mistaken for her brother; and she began to cherish hopes that it was her brother whose life this man said he had preserved.And so indeed it was.The stranger， whose name was Antonio， was a sea-captain.He had taken Sebastian up into his ship， when， almost exhausted with fatigue， he was floating on the mast to which he had fastened himself in the storm.Antonio conceived such a friendship for Sebastian that he resolved to accompany him whithersoever he went; and when the youth expressed a curiosity to visit Orsino's court， Antonio， rather than part from him， came to Illyria， though he knew， if his person should be known there， his life would be in danger， because in a sea， fight he had once dangerously wounded the duke Orsino's nephew.This was the offence for which he was now made a prisoner.

Antonio and Sebastian had landed together but a few hours before Antonio met Viola.He had given his purse to Sebastian， desiring him to use it freely if he saw anything he wished to purchase， telling him he would wait at the inn， while Sebastian went to view the town; but Sebastian not returning at the time appointed， Antonio had ventured out to look for him; and Viola being dressed the same， and in face so exactly resembling her brother， Antonio drew his sword （as he thought） in defence of the youth he had saved， and when Sebastian （as he supposed） disowned him， and denied him his own purse， no wonder he accused him of ingratitude.

Viola， when Antonio was gone， fearing a second invitation to fight， slunk home as fast as she could.She had not been long gone， when her adversary thought he saw her return; but it was her brother Sebastian， who happened to arrive at this place， and he said: “Now， sir， have I met with you again? There's for you;”and struck him a blow.Sebastian was no coward; he returned the blow with interest， and drew his sword.

A lady now put a stop to this duel， for Olivia came out of the house， and， she too mistaking Sebastian for Cesario， invited him to come into her house， expressing much sorrow at the rude attack he had met with.Though Sebastian was as much surprised at the courtesy of this lady as at the rudeness of his unknown foe， yet he went very willingly into the house， and Olivia was delighted to find Cesario （as she thought him） become more sensible of her attentions; for though their features were exactly the same， there was none of the contempt and anger to be seen in his face， which she had complained of when she had told her love to Cesario.

Sebastian did not at all object to the fondness the lady lavished on him.He seemed to take it in very good part， yet he wondered how it had come to pass， and he was rather inclined to think Olivia was not in her right senses; but perceiving that she was mistress of a fine house， and that she ordered her affairs and seemed to govern her family discreetly， and that in all but her sudden love for him she appeared in the full possession of her reason， he well approved of the courtship; and Olivia finding Cesario in this good humor， and fearing he might change his mind， proposed that， as she had a priest in the house， they should be instantly married.Sebastian assented to this proposal; and when the marriage ceremony was over， he left his lady for a short time， intending to go and tell his friend Antonio the good fortune that he had met with.In the mean time Orsino came to visit Olivia; and at the moment he arrived before Olivia's house， the officers of justice brought their prisoner， Antonio， before the duke.Viola was with Orsino， her master; and when Antonio saw Viola， whom he still imagined to be Sebastian， he told the duke in what manner he had rescued this youth from the perils of the sea; and after fully relating all the kindness he had really shown to Sebastian， he ended his complaint with saying that for three months， both day and night， this ungrateful youth had been with him.But now the lady Olivia coming forth from her house， the duke could no longer attend to Antonio's story; and he said: “Here comes the countess: now Heaven walks on earth! but for thee， fellow， thy words are madness.Three months has this youth attended on me;”and then he ordered Antonio to be taken aside.But Orsino's heavenly countess soon gave the duke cause to accuse Cesario as much of ingratitude as Antonio had done， for all the words he could hear Olivia speak were words of kindness to Cesario; and when he found his page had obtained this high place in Olivia's favor， he threatened him with all the terrors of his just revenge; and as he was going to depart， he called Viola to follow him， saying: “Come， boy， with me.My thoughts are ripe for mischief.”Though it seemed in his jealous rage he was going to doom Viola to instant death， yet her love made her no longer a coward， and she said she would most joyfully suffer death to give her master ease.But Olivia would not so lose her husband， and she cried: “Where goes my Cesario?”Viola replied: “After him I love more than my life.”Olivia， however， prevented their departure by loudly proclaiming that Cesario was her husband， and sent for the priest， who declared that not two hours had passed since he had married the lady Olivia to this young man.In vain Viola protested she was not married to Olivia; the evidence of that lady and the priest made Orsino believe that his page had robbed him of the treasure he prized above his life.But thinking that it was past recall， he was bidding farewell to his faithless mistress， and the young dissembler， her husband， as he called Viola， warning her never to come in his sight again， when （as it seemed to them） a miracle appeared! for another Cesario entered， and addressed Olivia as his wife.This new Cersario was Sebastian， the real husband of Olivia; and when their wonder had a little ceased at seeing two persons with the same face， the same voice， and the same habit， the brother and sister began to question each other; for Viola could scarce be persuaded that her brother was living， and Sebastian knew not how to account for the sister he supposed drowned being found in the habit of a young man.But Viola acknowledged that she was indeed Viola， and his sister， under that disguise.

When all the errors were cleared up which the extreme likeness between this twin brother and sister had occasioned， they laughed at the lady Olivia for the pleasant mistake she had made in falling in love with a woman; and Olivia showed no dislike to her exchange， when she found she had wedded the brother instead of the sister.

The hopes of Orsino were forever at an end by this marriage of Olivia， and with his hopes all his fruitless love seemed to vanish away， and all his thoughts were fixed on the event of his favorite， young Cesario， being changed into a fair lady.He viewed Viola with great attention， and he remembered how very handsome he had always thought Cesario was， and he concluded she would look very beautiful in a woman's attire; and then he remembered how often she had said she loved him， which at the time seemed only the dutiful expressions of a faithful page; but now he guessed that something more was meant， for many of her pretty sayings， which were like riddles to him， came now into his mind， and he no sooner remembered all these things than he resolved to make Viola his wife; and he said to her （he still could not help calling her Cesario and boy）: “Boy， you have said to me a thousand times that you should never love a woman like to me， and for the faithful service you have done for me， so much beneath your soft and tender breeding， and since you have called me master so long， you shall now be your master's mistress， and Orsino's true duchess.”

Olivia， perceiving Orsino was making over that heart， which she had so ungraciously rejected， to Viola， invited them to enter her house， and offered the assistance of the good priest， who had married her to Sebastian in the morning， to perform the same ceremony in the remaining part of the day for Orsino and Viola.Thus the twin brother and sister were both wedded on the same day; the storm and shipwreck， which had separated them， being the means of bringing to pass their high and mighty fortunes.Viola was the wife of Orsino， the duke of Illyria， and Sebastian the husband of the rich and noble countess， the lady Olivia.

Romeo and Juliet

The two chief families in Verona were the rich Capulets and the Mountagues.There had been an old quarrel between these families， which was grown to such a height， and so deadly was the enmity between them， that it extended to the remotest kindred， to the followers and retainers of both sides， insomuch that a servant of the house of Mountague could not meet a servant of the house of Capulet， nor a Capulet encounter with a Mountague by chance， but fierce words and sometimes bloodshed ensued; and frequent were the brawls from such accidental meetings which disturbed the happy quiet of Verona's streets.

Old lord Capulet made a great supper， to which many fair ladies and many noble guests were invited.All the admired beauties of Verona were present， and all comers were made welcome if they were not of the house of Mountague.At this feast of Capulets， Rosaline， beloved of Romeo， son to the old lord Mountague， was present; and though it was dangerous for a Mountague to be seen in this assembly， yet Benvolio， a friend of Romeo， persuaded the young lord to go to this assembly in the disguise of a mask， that he might see his Rosaline， and， seeing her， compare her with some choice beauties of Verona， who （he said） would make him think his swan a crow.Romeo had small faith in Benvolio's words; nevertheless， for the love of Rosaline， he was persuaded to go.For Romeo was a sincere and passionate lover， and one that lost his sleep for love， and fled society to be alone， thinking on Rosaline， who disdained him， and never requited his love with the least show of courtesy or affection; and Benvolio wished to cure his friend of this love by showing him diversity of ladies and company.To this feast of Capulets， then， young Romeo with Benvolio and their friend Mercutio went， masked.Old Capulet bid them welcome， and told them that ladies who had their toes unplagued with corns would dance with them.And the old man was light-hearted and merry， and said that he had worn a mask when he was young， and could have told a whispering tale in a fair lady's ear.And they fell to dancing， and Romeo was suddenly struck with the exceeding beauty of a lady who danced there， who seemed to him to teach the torches to burn bright， and her beauty to show by night like a rich jewel worn by a blackamoor—beauty too rich for use， too dear for earth! like a snowy dove trooping with crows （he said）， so richly did her beauty and perfections shine above the ladies her companions.While he uttered these praises， he was overheard by Tybalt， a nephew of lord Capulet， who knew him by his voice to be Romeo.And this Tybalt， being of a fiery and passionate temper， could not endure that a Mountague should come， under cover of a mask， to fleer and scorn （as he said） at their solemnities.And he stormed and raged exceedingly， and would have struck young Romeo dead.But his uncle， the old lord Capulet， would not suffer him to do any injury at that time， both out of respect to his guests， and because Romeo had borne himself like a gentleman， and all tongues in Verona bragged of him to be a virtuous and well-governed youth.Tybalt， forced to be patient against his will， restrained himself， but swore that this vile Mountague should at another time dearly pay for his intrusion.

The dancing being done， Romeo watched the place where the lady stood; and under favor of his masking habit， which might seem to excuse in part the liberty， he presumed in the gentlest manner to take her by the hand， calling it a shrine， which， if he profaned by touching it， he was a blushing pilgrim， and would kiss it for atonement.“Good pilgrim，”answered the lady， “your devotion shows by far too mannerly and too courtly: saints have hands， which pilgrims may touch， but kiss not.”“Have not saints lips， and pilgrims too?”said Romeo.“Ay，”said the lady， “lips which they must use in prayer.”“Oh， then， my dear saint，”said Romeo， “hear my prayer， and grant it， lest I despair.”In such like allusions and loving conceits they were engaged， when the lady was called away to her mother.And Romeo， inquiring who her mother was， discovered that the lady whose peerless beauty he was so much struck with was young Juliet， daughter and heir to the lord Capulet， the great enemy of the Mountagues; and that he had unknowingly engaged his heart to his foe.This troubled him， but it could not dissuade him from loving.As little rest had Juliet， when she found that the gentleman that she had been talking with was Romeo and a Mountague.for she had been suddenly smit with the same hasty and inconsiderate passion for Romeo which he had conceived for her; and a prodigious birth of love it seemed to her， that she must love her enemy， and that her affections should settle there， where family considerations should induce her chiefly to hate.

It being midnight， Romeo with his companions departed; but they soon missed him， for unable to stay away from the house where he had left his heart， he leaped the wall of an orchard which was at the back of Juliet's house.Here he had not been long ruminating on his new love， when Juliet appeared above at a window， through which her exceeding beauty seemed to break like the light of the sun in the east; and the moon， which shone in the orchard with a faint light， appeared to Romeo as if sick and pale with grief at the superior lustre of this new sun.And so leaning her cheek upon her hand， he passionately wished himself a glove upon that hand， that he might touch her cheek.She all this while thinking herself alone， fetched a deep sigh， and exclaimed， “Ah me!”Romeo， enraptured to hear her speak， said softly， and unheard by her， “Oh， speak again， bright angel， for such you appear， being over my head， like a winged messenger from heaven whom mortals fall back to gaze upon.”She， unconscious of being overheard， and full of the new passion which that night's adventure had given birth to， called upon her lover by name （whom she supposed absent）: “O Romeo， Romeo!”said she， “wherefore art thou， Romeo? Deny thy father， and refuse thy name， for my sake; or if thou wilt not， be but my sworn love， and I no longer will be a Capulet.”Romeo， having this encouragement， would fain have spoken， but he was desirous of hearing more; and the lady continued her passionate discourse with herself （as she thought）， still chiding Romeo for being Romeo and a Mountague， and wishing him some other name， or that he would put away that hated name， and for that name， which was no part of himself， he should take all herself.At this loving word Romeo could no longer refrain， but taking up the dialogue as if her words had been addressed to him personally， and not merely in fancy， he bade her call him Love， or by whatever other name she pleased， for he was no longer Romeo if that name were displeasing to her.Juliet， alarmed to hear a man's voice in the garden， did not at first know who it was， that by favor of the night and darkness had thus stumbled upon the discovery of her secret; but when he spoke again， though her ears had not yet drunk a hundred words of that tongue's uttering， yet so nice is a lover's hearing that she immediately knew him to be young Romeo， and she expostulated with him on the danger to which he had exposed himself by climbing the orchard walls， for， if any of her kinsmen should find him there， it would be death to him， being a Mountague.“Alack，”said Romeo， “there is more peril in your eye than in twenty of their swords.Do you but look kind upon me， lady， and I am proof against their enmity.Better my life should be ended by their hate than that hated life should be prolonged， to live without your love.”“How came you into this place，”said Juliet， “and by whose direction?”“Love directed me，”answered Romeo: “I am no pilot， yet wert thou as far apart from me as that vast shore which is washed with the farthest sea， I should adventure for such merchandise.”A crimson blush came over Juliet's face， yet unseen by Romeo by reason of the night， when she reflected upon the discovery which she had made， yet not meaning to make it， of her love to Romeo.She would fain have recalled her words， but that was impossible; fain would she have stood upon form， and have kept her lover at a distance， as the custom of discreet ladies is， to frown and be perverse， and give their suitors harsh denials at first; to stand off， and affect a coyness or indifference， where they most love， that their lovers may not think them too lightly or too easily won; for the difficulty of attainment increases the value of the object.But there was no room in her case for denials， or puttings off， or any of the customary arts of delay and protracted courtship.Romeo had heard from her own tongue， when she did not dream that he was near her， a confession of her love.So with an honest frankness， which the novelty of her situation excused， she confirmed the truth of what he had before heard， and addressing him by the name of fair Mountague （love can sweeten a sour name）， she begged him not to impute her easy yielding to levity or an unworthy mind， but that he must lay the fault of it （if it were a fault） upon the accident of the night which had so strangely discovered her thoughts.And she added that， though her behaviour to him might not be sufficiently prudent， measured by the custom of her sex， yet that she would prove more true than many whose prudence was dissembling， and their modesty artificial cunning.

Romeo was beginning to call the heavens to witness that nothing was further from his thoughts than to impute a shadow of dishonor to such an honored lady， when she stopped him， begging him not to swear; for although she joyed in him， yet she had no joy of that night's contract: it was too rash， too unadvised， too sudden.But he being urgent with her to exchange a vow of love with him that night， she said that she already had given him hers before he requested it， meaning when he overheard her confession; but she would retract what she then bestowed， for the pleasure of giving it again， for her bounty was as infinite as the sea， and her love as deep.From this loving conference she was called away by her nurse， who slept with her， and thought it time for her to be in bed， for it was near to daybreak; but hastily returning， she said three or four words more to Romeo， the purport of which was， that if his love was indeed honorable， and his purpose marriage， she would send a messenger to him to-morrow， to appoint a time for their marriage， when she would lay all her fortunes at his feet and follow him as her lord through the world.While they were settling this point， Juliet was repeatedly called for by her nurse， and went in and returned， and went and returned again， for she seemed as jealous of Romeo going from her as a young girl of her bird， which she will let hop a little from her hand， and pluck it back with a silken thread; and Romeo was as loath to part as she—for the sweetest music to lovers is the sound of each other's tongues at night.But at last they parted， wishing mutually sweet sleep and rest for that night.

The day was breaking when they parted， and Romeo， who was too full of thoughts of his mistress and that blessed meeting to allow him to sleep， instead of going home， bent his course to a monastery hard by， to find Friar Lawrence.The good friar was already up at his devotions， but seeing young Romeo abroad so early， he conjectured rightly that he had not been abed that night， but that some distemper of youthful affection had kept him waking.He was right in imputing the cause of Romeo's wakefulness to love， but he made a wrong guess at the object， for he thought that his love for Rosaline had kept him waking.But when Romeo revealed his new passion for Juliet， and requested the assistance of the friar to marry them that day， the holy man lifted up his eyes and hands in a sort of wonder at the sudden change in Romeo's affections， for he had been privy to all Romeo's love for Rosaline and his many complaints of her disdain， and he said that young men's love lay not truly in their hearts， but in their eyes.But Romeo replying that he himself had often chidden him for doting on Rosaline， who could not love him again， whereas Juliet both loved and was beloved by him， the friar assented in some measure to his reasons; and thinking that a matrimonial alliance between young Juliet and Romeo might happily be the means of making up the long breach between the Capulets and the Mountagues， which no one more lamented than this good friar， who was a friend to both the families， and had often interposed his mediation to make up the quarrel without effect; partly moved by policy， and partly by his fondness for young Romeo， to whom he could deny nothing， the old man consented to join their hands in marriage.

Now was Romeo blessed indeed， and Juliet， who knew his intent from a messenger which she had despatched according to promise， did not fail to be early at the cell of Friar Lawrence， where their hands were joined in holy marriage， the good friar praying the heavens to smile upon that act， and in the union of this young Mountague and young Capulet to bury the old strife and long dissensions of their families.

The ceremony being over， Juliet hastened home， where she stayed impatient for the coming of night， at which time Romeo promised to come and meet her in the orchard， where they had met the night before; and the time between seemed as tedious to her as the night before some great festival seems to an impatient child that has got new finery which it may not put on till the morning.

That same day， about noon， Romeo's friends Benvolio and Mercutio， walking through the streets of Verona， were met by a party of the Capulets with the impetuous Tybalt at their head.This was the same angry Tybalt who would have fought with Romeo at old lord Capulet's feet.He， seeing Mercutio， accused him bluntly of associating with Romeo， a Mountague.Mercutio， who had as much fire and youthful blood in him as Tybalt， replied to this accusation with some sharpness; and in spite of all Benvolio could say to moderate their wrath， a quarrel was beginning， when Romeo himself， passing that way， the fierce Tybalt turned from Mercutio to Romeo， and gave him the disgraceful appellation of villain.Romeo wished to avoid a quarrel with Tybalt above all men， becasue he was the kinsman of Juliet， and much beloved by her; besides， this young Mountague had never thoroughly entered into the family quarrel， being by nature wise and gentle， and the name of a Capulet， which was his dear lady's name， was now rather a charm to allay resentment than a watchword to excite fury.So he tried to reason with Tybalt， whom he saluted mildly by the name of good Capulet， as if he， though a Mountague， had some secret pleasure in uttering that name: but Tybalt， who hated all Mountagues as he hated hell， would hear no reason， but drew his weapon; and Mercutio， who knew not of Romeo's secret motive for desiring peace with Tybalt， but looked upon his present forbearance as a sort of calm dishonorable submission， with many disdainful words provoked Tybalt to the prosecution of his first quarrel with him; and Tybalt and Mercutio fought， till Mercutio fell， receiving his death's wound while Romeo and Benvolio were vainly endeavoring to part the combatants.Mercutio being dead， Romeo kept his temper no longer， but returned the scornful appellation of villain which Tybalt had given him; and they fought till Tybalt was slain by Romeo.This deadly broil falling out in the midst of Verona at noonday， the news of it quickly brought a crowd of citizens to the spot， and among them the old lords Capulet and Mountague， with their wives; and soon after arrived the prince himself， who being related to Mercutio， whom Tybalt had slain， and having had the peace of his government often disturbed by these brawls of Mountagues and Capulets， came determined to put the law in strictest force against those who should be found to be offenders.Benvolio， who had been eyewitness to the fray， was commanded by the prince to relate the origin of it; which he did， keeping as near the truth as he could without injury to Romeo， softening and excusing the part which his friends took in it.Lady Capulet， whose extreme grief for the loss of her kinsman Tybalt made her keep no bounds in her revenge， exhorted the prince to do strict justice upon his murderer， and to pay no attention to Benvolio's representation， who， being Romeo's friend， and a Mountague， spoke partially.Thus she pleaded against her new son-in-law， but she knew not yet that he was her son-in-law and Juliet's husband.On the other hand was to be seen Lady Mountague pleading for her child's life， and arguing with some justice that Romeo had done nothing worthy of punishment in taking the life of Tybalt， which was already forfeited to the law by his having slain Mercutio.The prince， unmoved by the passionate exclamations of these women， on a careful examination of the facts， pronounced his sentence， and by that sentence Romeo was banished from Verona.

Heavy news to young Juliet， who had been but a few hours a bride， and now by this decree seemed everlastingly divorced! When the tidings reached her， she at first gave way to rage against Romeo， who had slain her dear cousin.She called him a beautiful tyrant， a fiend angelical， a ravenous dove， a lamb with a wolf's nature， a serpent-heart hid with a flowering face， and other like contradictory names， which denoted the struggles in her mind between her love and her resentment: but in the end love got the mastery， and the tears which she shed for grief that Romeo had slain her cousin， turned to drops of joy that her husband lived whom Tybalt would have slain.Then came fresh tears， and they were altogether of grief for Romeo's banishment.That word was more terrible to her than the death of many Tybalts.

Romeo， after the fray， had taken refuge in Friar Lawrence's cell， where he was first made acquainted with the prince's sentence， which seemed to him far more terrible than death.To him it appeared there was no world out of Verona's walls， no living out of the sight of Juliet.Heaven was there where Juliet lived， and all beyond was purgatory， torture， hell.The good friar would have applied the consolation of philosophy to his griefs; but this frantic young man would hear of none， but like a madman he tore his hair， and threw himself all along upon the ground， as he said， to take the measure of his grave.From this unseemly state he was roused by a message from his dear lady， which a little revived him; and then the friar took the advantage to expostulate with him on the unmanly weakness which he had shown.He had slain Tybalt， but would he also slay himself， slay his dear lady who lived but in his life? The noble form of man， he said， was but a shape of wax， when it wanted the courage which should keep it firm.The law had been lenient to him， that instead of death， which he had incurred， had pronounced by the prince's mouth only banishment.He had slain Tybalt， but Tybalt would have slain him: there was a sort of happiness in that.Juliet was alive， and （beyond all hope） had become his dear wife: therein he was most happy.All these blessings， as the friar made them out to be， did Romeo put from him like a sullen， misbehaved wench.And the friar bade him beware， for such as despaired （he said） died miserable.Then when Romeo was a little calmed， he counselled him that he should go that night and secretly take his leave of Juliet， and thence proceed straightways to Mantua， at which place he should sojourn， till the friar found fit occasion to publish his marriage， which might be a joyful means of reconciling their families; and then he did not doubt but the prince would be moved to pardon him， and he would return with twenty times more joy than he went forth with grief.Romeo was convinced by these wise counsels of the friar， and took his leave to go and seek his lady， proposing to stay with her that night， and by daybreak pursue his journey alone to Mantua; to which place the good friar promised to send him letters from time to time， acquainting him with the state of affairs at home.

That night Romeo passed with his dear wife， gaining secret admission to her chamber， from the orchard in which he had heard her confession of love the night before.That had been a night of unmixed joy and rapture; but the pleasures of this night， and the delight which these lovers took in each other's society， were sadly allayed with the prospect of parting， and the fatal adventures of the past day.The unwelcome daybreak seemed to come too soon， and when Juliet heard the morning song of the lark， she would fain have persuaded herself that it was the nightingale， which sings by night; but it was too truly the lark which sung， and a discordant and unpleasing note it seemed to her; and the streaks of day in the east too certainly pointed out that it was time for these lovers to part.Romeo took his leave of his dear wife with a heavy heart， promising to write to her from Mantua every hour in the day; and when he had descended from her chamber-window， as he stood below her on the ground， in that sad foreboding state of mind， in which she was， he appeared to her eyes as one dead in the bottom of a tomb.Romeo's mind misgave him in like manner; but now he was forced hastily to depart， for it was death for him to be found within the walls of Verona after daybreak.

This was but the beginning of the tragedy of this pair of star-crossed lovers.Romeo had not been gone many days， before the old lord Capulet proposed a match for Juliet.The husband he had chosen her， not dreaming that she was married already， was count Paris， a gallant， young， and noble gentleman， no unworthy suitor to the young Juliet if she had never seen Romeo.

The terrified Juliet was in a sad perplexity at her father's offer.She pleaded her youth unsuitable to marriage， the recent death of Tybalt， which had left her spirits too weak to meet a husband with any face of joy， and how indecorous it would show for the family of the Capulets to be celebrating a nuptial feast， when his funeral solemnities were hardly over.she pleaded every reason against the match， but the true one， namely， that she was married already.But Lord Capulet was deaf to all her excuses， and in a peremptory manner ordered her to get ready， for by the following Thursday she should be married to Paris; and having found her a husband， rich， young， and noble， such as the proudest maid in Verona might joyfully accept， he could not bear that out of an affected coyness， as he construed her denial， she should oppose obstacles to her own good fortune.

In this extremity Juliet applied to the friendly friar， always her counsellor in distress， and he asking her if she had resolution to undertake a desperate remedy， and she answering that she would go into the grave alive， rather than marry Paris， her own dear husband living， he directed her to go home， and appear merry， and give her consent to marry Paris， according to her father's desire， and on the next night， which was the night before the marriage， to drink off the contents of a phial which he then gave her， the effect of which would be， that for two-and forty hours after drinking it she should appear cold and lifeless; that when the bridegroom came to fetch her in the morning， he would find her to appearance dead; that then she would be borne， as the manner in that country was， uncovered on a bier， to be buried in the family vault; that if she could put off womanish fear， and consent to this terrible trial， in forty-two hours after swallowing the liquid （such was its certain operation） she would be sure to awake， as from a dream; and before she should awake， he would let her husband know their drift， and he should come in the night， and bear her thence to Mantua.Love， and the dread of marrying Paris， gave young Juliet strength to undertake this horrible adventure; and she took the phial of the friar， promising to observe his directions.

Going from the monastery， she met the young count Paris， and， modestly dissembling， promised to become his bride.This was joyful news to the lord Capulet and his wife.It seemed to put youth into the old man; and Juliet， who had displeased him exceedingly， by her refusal of the count， was his darling again， now she promised to be obedient.All things in the house were in a bustle against the approaching nuptials.No cost was spared to prepare such festival rejoicings as Verona had never before witnessed.

On the Wednesday night Juliet drank off the potion.She had many misgivings lest the friar， to avoid the blame which might be imputed to him for marrying her to Romeo， had given her poison; but then he was always known for a holy man; then lest she should awake before the time that Romeo was to come for her; whether the terror of the place， a vault full of dead Capulets' bones， and where Tybalt， all bloody， lay festering in his shroud， would not be enough to drive her distracted: again she thought of all the stories she had heard of spirits haunting the places where their bodies were bestowed.But then her love for Romeo and her aversion for Paris returned， and she desperately swallowed the draught， and became insensible.

When young Paris came， early in the morning， with music to awaken his bride， instead of a living Juliet， her chamber presented the dreary spectacle of a lifeless corse.What death to his hopes! What confusion then reigned through the whole house! Poor Paris lamenting his bride， whom most detestable death had beguiled him of， had divorced from him even before their hands were joined.But still more piteous it was to hear the mournings of the old lord and lady Capulet， who， having but this one， one poor loving child to rejoice and solace in， cruel death had snatched her from their sight， just as these careful parents were on the point of seeing her advanced （as they thought） by a promising and advantageous match.Now all things that were ordained for the festival were turned from their properties to do the office of a black funeral.The weding-cheer served for a sad burial feast， the bridal hymns were changed for sullen dirges， the sprightly instruments to melancholy bells， and the flowers that should have been strewed in the bride's path now served but to strew her corse.Now， instead of a priest to marry her， a priest was needed to bury her; and she was borne to church indeed， not to augment the cheerful hopes of the living， but to swell the dreary numbers of the dead.

Bad news， which always travels faster than good， now brought the dismal story of his Juliet's death to Romeo， at Mantua， before the messenger could arrive， who was sent from Friar Lawrence to apprise him that these were mock funerals only， and but the shadow and representation of death， and that his dear lady lay in the tomb but for a short while， expecting when Romeo would come to release her from that dreary mansion.Just before， Romeo had been unusually joyful and light-hearted.He had dreamed in the night that he was dead （a strange dream， that gave a dead man leave to think）， and that his lady came and found him dead， and breathed such life with kisses in his lips， that he revived， and was an emperor! And now that a messenger came from Verona， he thought surely it was to confirm some good news which his dreams had presaged.But when the contrary to this flattering vision appeared， and that it was his lady who was dead in truth， whom he could not revive by any kisses， he ordered horses to be got ready， for he determined that night to visit Verona， and to see his lady in her tomb.And as mischief is swift to enter into the thoughts of desperate men， he called to mind a poor apothecary， whose shop in Mantua he had lately passed， and from the beggarly appearance of the man， who seemed famished， and the wretched show in his shop of empty boxes， ranged on dirty shelves， and other tokens of extreme wretchedness， he had said at the time （perhaps having some misgivings that his own disastrous life might haply meet with a conclusion so desperate）， “If a man were to need poison， which by the law of Mantua it is death to sell， here lives a poor wretch who would sell it him.”These words of his now came into his mind， and he sought out the apothecary， who， after some pretended scruples， Romeo offering him gold， which his poverty could not resist， sold him a poison， which， if he swallowed， he told him， if he had the strength of twenty men， would quickly despatch him.

With this poison he set out for Verona， to have a sight of his dear lady in her tomb， meaning， when he had satisfied his sight， to swallow the poison， and be buried by her side.He reached Verona at midnight， and found the church-yard in the midst of which was situated the ancient tomb of the Capulets.He had provided a light and a spade and wrenching-iron， and was proceeding to break open the monument， when he was interrupted by a voice， which， by the name of vile Mountague， bade him desist from his unlawful business.It was the young count Paris， who had come to the tomb of Juliet， at that unseasonable time of night， to strew flowers， and to weep over the grave of her that should have been his bride.He knew not what an interest Romeo had in the dead， but knowing him to be a Mountague， and （as he supposed） a sworn foe to all the Capulets， he judged that he was come by night to do some villanous shame to the dead bodies; therefore in an angry tone he bade him desist; and as a criminal， condemned by the laws of Verona to die if he were found within the walls of the city， he would have apprehended him.Romeo urged Paris to leave him， and warned him by the fate of Tybalt， who lay buried there， not to provoke his anger， or draw down another sin upon his head， by forcing him to kill him.But the count in scorn refused his warning， and laid hands on him as a felon， which， Romeo resisting， they fought， and Paris fell.When Romeo， by the help of a light， came to see who it was that he had slain， that it was Paris who （he learned in his way from Mantua） should have married Juliet， he took the dead youth by the hand， as one whom misfortune had made a companion， and said that he would bury him in a triumphal grave， meaning in Juliet's grave， which he now opened; and there lay his lady， as one whom death had no power upon to change a feature or complexion in her matchless beauty; or as if Death were amorous， and the lean， abhorred monster kept her there for his delight; for she lay yet fresh and blooming， as she had fallen to sleep when she swallowed that benumbing potion; and near her lay Tybalt in his bloody shroud， whom， Romeo seeing， begged pardon of his lifeless corse， and for Juliet's sake called him cousin， and said that he was about to do him a favor by putting his enemy to death.Here Romeo took his last leave of his lady's lips， kissing them; and here he shook the burden of his cross stars from his weary body， swallowing that poison which the apothecary had sold him， whose operation was fatal and real， not like that dissembling potion which Juliet had swallowed， the effect of which was now nearly expiring， and she about to awake to complain that Romeo had not kept his time， or that he had come too soon.

For now the hour was arrived at which the friar had promised that she should awake; and he， having learned that his letters which he had sent to Mantua， by some unlucky detention of the messenger， had never reached Romeo， came himself， provided with a pickaxe and lantern， to deliver the lady from her confinement; but he was surprised to find a light already burning in the Capluets' monument， and to see swords and blood near it， and Romeo and Paris lying breathless by the monument.

Before he could entertain a conjecture to imagine how these fatal accidents had fallen out， Juliet awoke out of her trance， and seeing the friar near her， she remembered the place where she was， and the occasion of her being there， and asked for Romeo; but the frair， hearing a noise， bade her come out of that place of death and of unnatural sleep， for a greater power than they could contradict had thwarted their intents; and being frightened by the noise of people coming， he fled: but when Juliet saw the cup closed in her true love's hands， she guessed that poison had been the cause of his end， and she would have swallowed the dregs if any had been left， and she kissed his still warm lips to try if any poison yet did hang upon them; then hearing a nearer noise of people coming， she quickly unsheathed a dagger which she wore， and stabbing herself， died by her true Romeo's side.

The watch by this time had come up to the place.A page belonging to count Paris， who had witnessed the fight between his master and Romeo， had given the alarm， which had spread among the citizens， who went up and down the streets of Verona confusedly， exclaiming， “A Paris! a Romeo! a Juliet!”as the rumor had imperfectly reached them， till the uproar brought Lord Mountague and Lord Capulet out of their beds， with the prince， to inquire into the causes of the disturbance.The friar had been apprehended by some of the watch， coming from the church-yard， trembling， sighing， and weeping in a suspicious manner.A great multitude being assembled at the Capulets' monument， the friar was demanded by the prince to deliver what he knew of these strange and disastrous accidents.

And there， in the presence of the old lords Mountague and Capulet， he faithfully related the story of their children's fatal love， the part he took in promoting their marriage， in the hope in that union to end the long quarrels between their families; how Romeo， there dead， was husband to Juliet; and Juliet， there dead， was Romeo's faithful wife; how before he could find a fit opportunity to divulge their marriage， another match was projected for Juliet， who， to avoid the crime of a second marriage， swallowed the sleeping draught （as he advised）， and all thought her dead: how meantime he wrote to Romeo， to come and take her thence when the force of the potion should cease， and by what unfortunate miscarriage of the messenger the letters never reached Romeo: further than this， the friar could not follow the story， nor knew more than that， coming himself， to deliver Juliet from that place of death， he found the count Paris and Romeo slain.The remainder of the transactions was supplied by the narration of the page who had seen Paris and Romeo fight， and by the servant who came with Romeo from Verona， to whom this faithful lover had given letters to be delivered to his father in the event of his death， which made good the friar's words， confessing his marriage with Juliet， imploring the forgiveness of his parents， acknowledging the buying of the poison of the poor apothecary， and his intent in coming to the monument， to die， and lie with Juliet.All these circumstances agreed together to clear the friar from any hand he could be supposed to have in these complicated slaughters， further than as the unintended consequences of his own well-meant yet too artificial and subtle contrivances.

And the prince， turning to these old lords， Mountague and Capulet， rebuked them for their brutal and irrational enmities， and showed them what a scourge Heaven had laid upon such offences， that it had found means even through the love of their children to punish their unnatural hate.And these old rivals， no longer enemies， agreed to bury their long strife in their children's graves; and Lord Capulet requested Lord Mountague to give him his hand， calling him by the name of brother， as if in acknowledgment of the union of their families， by the marriage of the young Capulet and Mountague; and saying that Lord Mountague's hand （in token of reconcilement） was all he demanded for his daughter's jointure; but Lord Mountague said he would give him more， for he would raise her a statue of pure gold， that， while Verona kept its name， no figure should be so esteemed for its richness and workmanship as that of the true and faithful Juliet.And Lord Capulet in return said that he would raise another statue to Romeo.So did these poor old lords， when it was too late， strive to outgo each other in mutual courtesies; while so deadly had been their rage and enmity in past times that nothing but the fearful overthrow of their children （poor sacrifices to their quarrels and dissensions）， could remove the rooted hates and jealousies of the noble families.

Hamlet

Gertrude， queen of Denmark， becoming a widow by the sudden death of King Hamlet， in less than two months after his death married his brother Claudius， which was noted by all people at the time for a strange act of indiscretion or unfeelingness， or worse: for this Claudius did no ways resemble her late husband in the qualities of his person or his mind， but was as contemptible in outward appearance as he was base and unworthy in disposition; and suspicions did not fail to arise in the minds of some that he had privately made away with his brother， the late king， with the view of marrying his widow and ascending the throne of Denmark， to the exclusion of young Hamlet， the son of the buried king， and lawful successor to the throne.

But upon no one did this unadvised action of the queen make such impression as upon this young prince， who loved and venerated the memory of his dead father almost to idolatry; and being of a nice sense of honor， and a most exquisite practiser of propriety himself， did sorely take to heart this unworthy conduct of his mother Gertrude， insomuch that， between grief for his father's death and shame for his mother's marriage， this young prince was overclouded with a deep melancholy， and lost all his mirth and all his good looks; all his customary pleasure in books forsook him; his princely exercises and sports， proper to his youth， were no longer acceptable; he grew weary of the world， which seemed to him an unweeded garden， where all the wholesome flowers were choked up， and nothing but weeds could thrive.Not that the prospect of exclusion from the throne， his lawful inheritance， weighed so much upon his spirits， though that to a young and high-minded prince was a bitter wound and a sore indignity: but what so galled him， and took away all his cheerful spirits， was that his mother had shown herself so forgetful to his father's memory; and such a father! who had been to her so loving and so gentle a husband! and then she always appeared as loving and obedient a wife to him， and would hang upon him as if her affection grew to him: and now within two months， or， as it seemed to young Hamlet， less than two months， she had married again， married his uncle， her dear husband's brother， in itself a highly improper and unlawful marriage， from the nearness of relationship， but made much more so by the indecent haste with which it was concluded， and the unkingly character of the man whom she had chosen to be the partner of her throne and bed.This it was which， more than the loss of ten kingdoms， dashed the spirits and brought a cloud over the mind of this honorable young prince.

In vain was all that his mother Gertrude or the king could do to contrive to divert him; he still appeared in court in a suit of deep black， as mourning for the king his father's death， which mode of dress he had never laid aside， not even in compliment to his mother upon the day she was married， nor could he be brought to join in any of the festivities or rejoicings of that （as appeared to him） disgraceful day.

What mostly troubled him was an uncertainty about the manner of his father's death.It was given out by Claudius， that a serpent had stung him; but young Hamlet had shrewd suspicions that Claudius himself was the serpent; in plain English， that he had murdered him for his crown， and that the serpent who stung his father did now sit on the throne.

How far he was right in this conjecture， and what he ought to think of his mother， how far she was privy to this murder， and whether by her consent or knowledge， or without， it came to pass， were the doubts which continually harassed and distracted him.

A rumor had reached the ear of young Hamlet that an apparition， exactly resembling the dead king， his father， had been seen by the soldiers upon watch， on the platform before the palace at midnight， for two or three nights successively.The figure came constantly clad in the same suit of armor， from head to foot， which the dead king was known to have worn; and they who saw it （Hamlet's bosom friend Horatio was one） agreed in their testimony as to the time and manner of its appearance: that it came just as the clock struck twelve; that it looked pale， with a face more of sorrow than of anger; that its beard was grisly， and the color a sable silvered， as they had seen it in his lifetime: that it made no answer when they spoke to it， yet once they thought it lifted up its head， and addressed itself to motion， as if it were about to speak; but in that moment the morning cock crew， and it shrank in haste away， and vanished out of their sight.

The young prince， strangely amazed at their relation， which was too consistent and agreeing with itself to disbelieve， concluded that it was his father's ghost which they had seen， and determined to take his watch with the soldiers that night， that he might have a chance of seeing it: for he reasoned with himself， that such an appearance did not come for nothing， but that the ghost had something to impart， and though it had been silent hitherto， yet it would speak to him.And he waited with impatience for the coming of night.

When night came he took his stand with Horatio， and Marcellus， one of the guard， upon the platform， where this apparition was accustomed to walk; and it being a cold night， and the air unusually raw and nipping， Hamlet and Horatio and their companion fell into some talk about the coldness of the night， which was suddenly broken off by Horatio announcing that the ghost was coming.

At the sight of his father's spirit， Hamlet was struck with a sudden surprise and fear.He at first called upon the angels and heavenly ministers to defend them， for he knew not whether it were a good spirit or bad; whether it came for good or evil: but he gradually assumed more courage; and his father （as it seemed to him） looked upon him so piteously， and as it were desiring to have conversation with him， and did in all respects appear so like himself as he was when he lived， that Hamlet could not help addressing him: he called him by his name， Hamlet， King， Father! and conjured him that he would tell the reason why he had left his grave， where they had seen him quietly bestowed， to come again and visit the earth and the moonlight; and besought him that he would let them know if there was anything which they could do to give peace to his spirit.And the ghost beckoned to Hamlet， that he should go with him to some more removed place， where they might be alone; and Horatio and Marcellus would have dissuaded the young prince from following it， for they feared lest it should be some evil spirit， who would tempt him to the neighboring sea， or to the top of some dreadful cliff， and there put on some horrible shape which might deprive the prince of his reason.But their counsels and entreaties could not alter Hamlet's determination， who cared too little about life to fear the losing of it; and as to his soul， he said， what could the spirit do to that， being a thing immortal as itself? And he felt as hardy as a lion， and bursting from them， who did all they could to hold him， he followed whithersoever the spirit led him.

And when they were alone together， the spirit broke silence， and told him that he was the ghost of Hamlet his father， who had been cruelly murdered， and he told the manner of it; that it was done by his own brother Claudius， Hamlet's uncle， as Hamlet had already but too much suspected， for the hope of succeeding to his bed and crown.That as he was sleeping in his garden， his custom always in the afternoon， his treasonous brother stole upon him in his sleep， and poured the juice of poisonous henbane into his ears， which has such an antipathy to the life of man， that swift as quicksilver it courses through all the veins of the body， baking up the blood， and spreading a crust-like leprosy all over the skin， thus sleeping， by a brother's hand he was cut off at once from his crown， his queen， and his life: and he adjured Hamlet， if he did ever his dear father love， that he would revenge his foul murder.And the ghost lamented to his son， that his mother should so fall off from virtue， as to prove false to the wedded love of her first husband， and to marry his murderer: but he cautioned Hamlet， howsoever he proceeded in his revenge against his wicked uncle， by no means to act any violence against the person of his mother， but to leave her to Heaven， and to the stings and thorns of conscience.And Hamlet promised to observe the ghost's direction in all things， and the ghost vanished.

And when Hamlet was left alone， he took up a solemn resolution， that all he had in his memory， all that he had ever learned by books or observation， should be instantly forgotten by him， and nothing live in his brain but the memory of what the ghost had told him， and enjoined him to do.And Hamlet related the particulars of the conversation which had passed to none but his dear friend Horatio; and he enjoined both to him and Marcellus the strictest secrecy as to what they had seen that night.

The terror which the sight of the ghost had left upon the senses of Hamlet， he being weak and dispirited before， almost unhinged his mind， and drove him beside his reason.And he， fearing that it would continue to have this effect， which might subject him to observation and set his uncle upon his guard if he suspected that he was meditating anything against him， or that Hamlet really knew more of his father's death than he professed， took up a strange resolution， from that time to counterfeit as if he were really and truly mad—thinking that he would be less an object of suspicion when his uncle should believe him incapable of any serious project， and that his real perturbation of mind would be best covered， and pass concealed under a disguise of pretended lunacy.

From this time Hamlet affected a certain wildness and strangeness in his apparel， his speech， and behavior， and did so excellently counterfeit the madman that the king and queen were both deceived， and not thinking his grief for his father's death a sufficient cause to produce such a distemper， for they knew not of the appearance of the ghost， they concluded that his malady was love， and they thought they had found out the object.

Before Hamlet fell into the melancholy way which has been related， he had dearly loved a fair maid called Ophelia， the daughter of Polonius， the king's chief counsellor in affairs of state.He had sent her letters and rings， and made many tenders of his affection to her， and importuned her with love in honorable fashion; and she had given belief to his vows and importunities.But the melancholy which he fell into latterly had made him neglect her， and from the time he conceived the project of counterfeiting madness he affected to treat her with unkindness and a sort of rudeness; but she， good lady， rather than reproach him with being false to her， persuaded herself that it was nothing but the disease in his mind， and no settled unkindness， which had made him less observant of her than formerly; and she compared the faculties of his once noble mind and excellent understanding， impaired as they were with the deep melancholy that oppressed him， to sweet bells which in themselves are capable of most exquisite music， but， when jangled out of tune， or rudely handled， produce only a harsh and unpleasing sound.

Though the rough business which Hamlet had in hand， the revenging of his father's death upon his murderer， did not suit with the playful state of courtship， or admit of the society of so idle a passion as love now seemed to him， yet it could not hinder but that soft thoughts of his Ophelia would come between; and in one of these moments， when he thought that his treatment of this gentle lady had been unreasonably harsh， he wrote her a letter full of wild starts of passion， and in extravagant terms such as agreed with his supposed madness， but mixed with some gentle touches of affection， which could not but show to this honored lady that a deep love for her yet lay at the bottom of his heart.He bade her to doubt the stars were fire， and to doubt that the sun did move， to doubt truth to be a liar， but never to doubt that he loved; with more of such extravagant phrases.This letter Ophelia dutifully showed to her father， and the old man thought himself bound to communicate it to the king and queen， who from that time supposed that the true cause of Hamlet's madness was love.And the queen wished that the good beauties of Ophelia might be the happy cause of his wildness， for so she hoped that her virtues might happily restore him to his accustomed way again， to both their honors.

But Hamlet's malady lay deeper than she supposed， or than could be so cured.His father's ghost， which he had seen， still haunted his imagination， and the sacred injunction to revenge his murder gave him no rest till it was accomplished.Every hour of delay seemed to him a sin and a violation of his father's commands.Yet how to compass the death of the king， surrounded as he constantly was with his guards， was no easy matter.Or if it had been， the presence of the queen， Hamlet's mother， who was generally with the king， was a restraint upon his purpose， which he could not break through.Besides， the very circumstance that the usurper was his mother's husband filled him with some remorse， and still blunted the edge of his purpose.The mere act of putting a fellow-creature to death was in itself odious and terrible to a disposition naturally so gentle as Hamlet's was.His very melancholy， and the dejection of spirits he had so long been in， produced an irresoluteness and wavering of purpose which kept him from proceeding to extremities.Moreover， he could not help having scruples upon his mind， whether the spirit which he had seen was indeed his father， or whether it might not be the Devil， who he had heard has power to take any form he pleases， and who might have assumed his father's shape only to take advantage of his weakness and his melancholy， to drive him to the doing of so desperate an act as murder.And he determined that he would have more certain grounds to go upon than a vision or apparition， which might be a deluston.

While he was in this irresolute mind there came to the court certain players， in whom Hamlet formerly used to take delight， and particularly to hear one of them speak a tragical speech， describing the death of old Priam， King of Troy， with the grief of Hecuba， his queen.Hamlet welcomed his old friends， the players， and， remembering how that speech had formerly given him pleasure， requested the player to repeat it， which he did in so lively a manner-setting forth the cruel murder of the feeble old king， with the destruction of his people and city by fire， and the mad grief of the old queen， running barefoot up and down the palace， with a poor clout upon that head where a crown had been， and with nothing but a blanket upon her loins， snatched up in haste， where she had worn a royal robe-that not only it drew tears from all that stood by， who thought they saw the real scene， so lively was it represented， but even the player himself delivered it with a broken voice and real tears.This put Hamlet upon thinking， if that player could so work himself up to passion， by a mere fictitious speech， to weep for one that he had never seen-for Hecuba， that had been dead so many hundred years-how dull was he， who， having a real motive and cue for passion， a real king and a dear father murdered， was yet so little moved that his revenge all this while had seemed to have slept in dull and muddy forgetfulness! And while he meditated on actors and acting， and the powerful effects which a good play， represented to the life， has upon the spectator， he remembered the instance of some murderer， who， seeing a murder on the stage， was by the mere force of the scene and resemblance of circumstances so affected， that on the spot he confessed the crime which he had committed.And he determined that these players should play something like the murder of his father before his uncle， and he would watch narrowly what effect it might have upon him， and from his looks he would be able to gather with more certainty if he were the murderer or not.To this effect he ordered a play to be prepared， to the representation of which he invited the king and queen.

The story of the play was of a murder done in Vienna upon a duke.The duke's name was Gonzago， his wife Baptista.The play showed how one Lucianus， a near relation to the duke， poisoned him in his garden for his estate， and how the murderer in a short time after got the love of Gonzago's wife.

At the representation of this play， the king， who did not know the trap which was laid for him， was present， with his queen and the whole court; Hamlet sitting attentively near him to observe his looks.The play began with a conversation between Gonzago and his wife， in which the lady made many protestations of love， and of never marrying a second husband if she should outlive Gonzago; wishing she might be accursed if she ever took a second husband， and adding that no woman did so but those wicked women who kill their first husbands.Hamlet observed the king， his uncle， change color at this expression， and that it was as bad as wormwood both to him and to the queen.But when Lucianus， according to the story， came to poison Gonzago sleeping in the garden， the strong resemblance which it bore to his own wicked act upon the late king， his brother， whom he had poisoned in his garden， so struck upon the conscience of this usurper that he was unable to sit out the rest of the play， but on a sudden calling for lights to his chamber， and affecting， or partly feeling， a sudden sickness， he abruptly left the theatre.The king being departed， the play was given over.Now Hamlet had seen enough to be satisfied that the words of the ghost were true， and no illusion; and in a fit of gayety， like that which comes over a man who suddenly has some great doutbt or scruple resolved， he swore to Horatio that he would take the ghost's word for a thousand pounds.But before he could make up his resolution as to what measures of revenge he should take， now he was certainly informed that his uncle was his father's murderer， he was sent for by the queen， his mother， to a private conference in her closet.

It was by desire of the king that the queen sent for Hamlet， that she might signify to her son how much his late behavior had displeased them both; and the king， wishing to know all that passed at that conference， and thinking that the too partial report of a mother might let slip some part of Hamlet's words， which it might much import the king to know， Polonius， the old counsellor of state， was ordered to plant himself behind the hangings in the queen's closet， where he might unseen hear all that passed.This artifice was particularly adapted to the disposition of Polonius， who was a man grown old in crooked maxims and policies of state， and delighted to get at the knowledge of matters in an indirect and cunning way.

Hamlet being come to his mother， she began to tax him in the roundest way with his actions and behavior， and she told him that he had given great offence to his father， meaning the king， his uncle， whom， because he had married her， she called Hamlet's father.Hamlet， sorely indignant that she should give so dear and honored a name as father seemed to him to a wretch who was indeed no better than the murderer of his true father， with some sharpness replied， “Mother， you have much offended my father.”The queen said that was but an idle answer.“As good as the question deserved，”said Hamlet.The queen asked him if he had forgotten who it was he was speaking to? “Alas!”replied Hamlet， “I wish I could forget.You are the queen， your husband's brother's wife; and you are my mother: I wish you were not what you are.”“Nay， then，”said the queen， “if you show me so little respect， I will set those to you that can speak，”and was going to send the king or Polonius to him.But Hamlet would not let her go， now he had her alone， till he had tried if his words could not bring her to some sense of her wicked life; and， taking her by the wrist， he held her fast and made her sit down.She， affrighted at his earnest manner， and fearful lest in his lunacy he should do her a mischief， cried out; and a voice was heard from behind the hangings， “Help， help， the queen!”which， Hamlet hearing， and verily thinking that it was the king himself there concealed， he drew his sword and stabbed at the place where the voice came from， as he would have stabbed a rat that ran there， till， the voice ceasing， he concluded the person to be dead.But when he dragged forth the body， it was not the king， but Polonius， the old， officious counsellor， that had planted himself as a spy behind the hangings.“Oh me!”exclaimed the queen， “what a rash and bloody deed have you done!”“A bloody deed， mother，”replied Hamlet， “but not so bad as yours， who killed a king， and married his brother.”Hamlet had gone too far to leave off here.He was now in the humor to speak plainly to his mother， and he pursued it.And though the faults of parents are to be tenderly treated by their children， yet in the case of great crimes the son may have leave to speak even to his mother with some harshness， so as that harshness is meant for her good， and to turn her from her wicked ways， and not done for the purpose of upbraiding.And now this virtuous prince did in moving terms represent to the queen the heinousness of her offence， in being so forgetful of the dead king， his father， as in so short a space of time to marry with his brother and reputed murderer: such an act as， after the vows which she had sworn to her first husband， was enough to make all vows of women suspected， and all virtue to be accounted hypocrisy， wedding contracts to be less than gamester's oaths， and religion to be a mockery， and a mere form of words.He said she had done such a deed， that the heavens blushed at it， and the earth was sick of her because of it.And he showed her two pictures， the one of the late king， her first husband， and the other of the present king， her second husband， and he bade her mark the difference; what a grace was on the brow of his father， how like a god he looked! the curls of Apollo， the forehead of Jupiter， the eye of Mars， and a posture like to Mercury newly alighted on some heaven-kissing hill! this man， he said， had been her husband.And then he showed her whom she had got in his stead: how like a blight or a mildew he looked， for so he had blasted his wholesome brother.And the queen was sore ashamed that he should so turn her eyes inward upon her soul， which she now saw so black and deformed.And he asked her how she could continue to live with this man， and be a wife to him， who had murdered her first husband， and got the crown by as false means as a thief——and just as he spoke， the ghost of his father， such as he was in his lifetime， and such as he had lately seen it， entered the room， and Hamlet， in great terror， asked what it would have; and the ghost said that it came to remind him of the revenge he had promised， which Hamlet seemed to have forgot; and the ghost bade him speak to his mother， for the grief and terror she was in would else kill her.It then vanished， and was seen by none but Hamlet， neither could he， by pointing to where it stood， or by any description， make his mother perceive it; who was terribly frightened all this while to hear him conversing， as it seemed to her， with nothing; and she imputed it to the disorder of his mind.But Hamlet begged her not to flatter her wicked soul in such a manner as to think that it was his madness， and not her own offences， which had brought his father's spirit again on the earth.And he bade her feel his pulse， how temperately it beat， not like a madman's.And he begged of her with tears to confess herself to Heaven for what was past， and for the future to avoid the company of the king， and be no more as a wife to him; and when she should show herself a mother to him， by respecting his father's memory， he would ask a blessing of her as a son.And she promising to observe his direction， the conference ended.

And now Hamlet was at leisure to consider who it was that in his unfortunate rashness he had killed; and when he came to see that it was Polonius， the father of the lady Ophelia， whom he so dearly loved， he drew apart the dead body， and， his spirits being now a little quieter， he wept for what he had done.

The unfortunate death of Polonius gave the king a pretence for sending Hamlet out of the kingdom.He would willingly have put him to death， fearing him as dangerous; but he dreaded the people， who loved Hamlet， and the queen， who， with all her faults， doted upon the prince， her son.So this subtle king， under pretence of providing for Hamlet's safety， that he might not be called to account for Polonius' death， caused him to be conveyed on board a ship bound for England， under the care of two courtiers， by whom he despatched letters to the English court， which in that time was in subjection and paid tribute to Denmark， requiring for special reasons there pretended， that Hamlet should be put to death as soon as he landed on English ground.Hamlet， suspecting some treachery， in the night-time secretly got at the letters， and skilfully erasing his own name， he in the stead of it put in the names of those two courtiers， who had the charge of him， to be put to death: then sealing up the letters， he put them into their place again.Soon after the ship was attacked by pirates， and a sea-fight commenced， in the course of which Hamlet， desirous to show his valor， with sword in hand singly boarded the enemy's vessel， while his own ship， in a cowardly manner， bore away， and leaving his to his fate， the two courtiers made the best of their way to England， charged with those letters the sense of which Hamlet had altered to their own deserved destruction.

The pirates， who had the prince in their power， showed themselves gentle enemies; and knowing whom they had got prisoner， in the hope that the prince might do them a good turn at court in recompense for any favor they might show him， they set Hamlet on shore at the nearest port in Denmark.From that place Hamlet wrote to the king， acquainting him with the strange chance which had brought him back to his own country， and saying that on the next day he should present himself before his majesty.When he got home， a sad spectacle offered itself the first thing to his eyes.

This was the funeral of the young and beautiful Ophelia， his once dear mistress.The wits of this young lady had begun to turn ever since her poor father's death.That he should die a violent death， and by the hands of the prince whom she loved， so affected this tender young maid that in a little time she grew perfectly distracted， and would go about giving flowers away to the ladies of the court， and saying that they were for her father's burial， singing songs about love and about death， and sometimes such as had no meaning at all， as if she had no memory of what happened to her.There was a willow which grew slanting over a brook， and reflected its leaves on the stream.To this brook she came one day when she was unwatched， with garlands she had been making， mixed up of daisies and nettles， flowers and weeds， together， and clambering up to hang her garland upon the boughs of the willow， a bough broke， and precipitated this fair young maid， garland and all that she had gathered， into the water， where her clothes bore her up for a while， during which she chanted scraps of old tunes， like one insensible to her own distress， or as if she were a creature natural to that element: but long it was not before her garments， heavy with the wet， pulled her in from her melodious singing to a muddy and miserable death.It was the funeral of this fair maid which her brother Laertes was celebrating， the king and queen and whole court being present， when Hamlet arrived.He knew not what all this show imported， but stood on one side， not inclining to interrupt the ceremony.He saw the flowers strewed upon her grave， as the custom was in maiden burials， which the queen herself threw in; and as she threw them she said: “Sweets to the sweet! I thought to have decked thy bride-bed， sweet maid， not to have strewed thy grave.Thou shouldst have been my Hamlet's wife.”And he heard her brother wish that violets might spring from her grave; and he saw him leap into the grave all frantic with grief， and bid the attendants pile mountains of earth upon him， that he might be buried with her.And Hamlet's love for this fair maid came back to him， and he could not bear that a brother should show so much transport of grief， for he thought that he loved Ophelia better than forty thousand brothers.Then discovering himself， he leaped into the grave where Laertes was， all as frantic or more frantic than he， and Laertes knowing him to be Hamlet， who had been the cause of his father's and his sister's death， grappled him by the throat as an enemy， till the attendants parted them: and Hamlet， after the funeral， excused his hasty act in throwing himself into the grave as if to brave Laertes; but he said he could not bear that any one should seem to outgo him in grief for the death of the fair Ophelia.And for the time these two noble youths seemed reconciled.

But out of the grief and anger of Laertes for the death of his father and Ophelia， the king， Hamlet's wicked uncle， contrived destruction for Hamlet.He set on Laertes， under cover of peace and reconciliation， to challenge Hamlet to a friendly trial of skill at fencing， which， Hamlet accepting， a day was appointed to try the match.At this match all the court was present， and Laertes， by direction of the king， prepared a poisoned weapon.Upon this match great wagers were laid by the courtiers， as both Hamlet and Laertes were known to excel at this sword play; and Hamlet taking up the foils chose one， not at all suspecting the treachery of Laertes， or being careful to examine Laertes' weapon， who， instead of a foil or blunted sword， which the laws of fencing require， made use of one with a point， and poisoned.At first Laertes did but play with Hamlet， and suffered him to gain some advantages， which the dissembling king magnified and extolled beyond measure， drinking to Hamlet's success， and wagering rich bets upon the issue: but after a few passes， Laertes growing warm made a deadly thrust at Hamlet with his poisoned weapon， and gave him a mortal blow.Hamlet， incensed， but not knowing the whole of the treachery， in the scuffle exchanged his own innocent weapon for Laertes' deadly one， and with a thrust of Laertes' own sword repaid Laertes home， who was thus justly caught in his own treachery.In this instant the queen shrieked out that she was poisoned.She had inadvertently drank out of a bowl which the king had prepared for Hamlet， in case that， being warm in fencing， he should call for drink.into this the treacherous king had infused a deadly poison， to make sure of Hamlet， if Laertes had failed.He had forgotten to warn the queen of the bowl， which she drank of， and immediately died， exclaiming with her last breath that she was poisoned.Hamlet， suspecting some treachery， ordered the doors to be shut， while he sought it out.Laertes told him to seek no farther， for he was the traitor; and feeling his life go away with the wound which Hamlet had given him， he made confession of the treachery he had used， and how he had fallen a victim to it: and he told Hamlet of the envenomed point， and said that Hamlet had not half an hour to live， for no medicine could cure him; and begging forgiveness of Hamlet， he died， with his last words accusing the king of being the contriver of the mischief.When Hamlet saw his end draw near， there being yet some venom left upon the sword， he suddenly turned upon his false uncle， and thrust the point of it to his heart， fulfilling the promise which he had made to his father's spirit， whose injunction was now accomplished， and his foul murder revenged upon the murderer.Then Hamlet， feeling his breath fail and life departing， turned to his dear friend Horatio， who had been spectator of this fatal tragedy; and with his dying breath requested him that he would live to tell his story to the world （for Horatio had made a motion as if he would slay himself to accompany the prince in death）， and Horatio promised that he would make a true report， as one that was privy to all the circumstances.And， thus satisfied， the noble heart of Hamlet cracked; and Horatio and the bystanders with many tears commended the spirit of this sweet prince to the guardianship of angels.For Hamlet was a loving and a gentle prince， and greatly beloved for his many noble and princelike qualities; and if he had lived， would no doubt have proved a most royal and complete king to Denmark.

Othello

Brabantio， the rich senator of Venice， had a fair daughter， the gentle Desdemona.She was sought to by divers suitors， both on account of her many virtuous qualities and for her rich expectations.But among the suitors of her own clime and complexion， she saw none whom she could affect; for this noble lady， who regarded the mind more than the features of men， with a singularity rather to be admired than imitated， had chosen for the object of her affections a Moor， a black， whom her father loved and often invited to his house.

Neither is Desdemona to be altogether condemned for the unsuitableness of the person whom she selected for her lover.Bating that Othello was black， the noble Moor wanted nothing which might recommend him to the affections of the greatest lady.He was a soldier， and a brave one; and by his conduct in bloody wars against the Turks， had risen to the rank of general in the Venetian service， and was esteemed and trusted by the state.

He had been a traveller， and Desdemona （as is the manner of ladies） loved to hear him tell the story of his adventures， which he would run through from his earliest recollection: the battles， sieges， and encounters， which he had passed through; the perils he had been exposed to by land and by water; his hair-breadth escapes when he had entered a breach or marched up to the mouth of a cannon; and how he had been taken prisoner by the insolent enemy， and sold to slavery; how he demeaned himself in that state， and how he escaped: all these accounts， added to the narration of the strange things he had seen in foreign countries， the vast wilderness and romantic caverns， the quarries， the rocks， and mountains whose heads are in the clouds; of the savage nations， the cannibals who are man-eaters， and a race of people in Africa whose heads do grow beneath their shoulders: these travellers' stories would so enchain the attention of Desdemona that， if she were called off at any time by household affairs， she would despatch with all haste that business， and return， and with a greedy ear devour Othello's discourse.And once he took advantage of a pliant hour， and drew from her a prayer that he would tell her the whole story of his life at large， of which she had heard so much， but only by parts: to which he consented， and beguiled her of many a tear， when he spoke of some distressful stroke which his youth had suffered.

His story being done， she gave him for his pains a world of sighs: she swore a pretty oath， that it was all passing strange， and pitiful， wondrous pitiful: she wished （she said） she had not heard it， yet she wished that heaven had made her such a man; and then she thanked him， and told him， if he had a friend who loved her， he had only to teach him how to tell his story， and that would woo her.Upon this hint delivered not with more frankness than modesty， accompanied with certain bewitching prettiness， and blushes， which Othello could not but understand， he spoke more openly of his love， and in this golden opportunity gained the consent of the generous lady Desdemona privately to marry him.

Neither Othello's color nor his fortune was such that it could be hoped Brabantio would accept him for a son-in-law.He had left his daughter free; but he did expect that， as the manner of noble Venetian ladies was， she would choose erelong a husband of senatorial rank or expectations; but in this he was deceived; Desdemona loved the Moor， though he was black， and devoted her heart and fortunes to his valiant parts and qualities: so was her heart subdued to an implicit devotion to the man she had selected for a husband， that his very color， which to all but this discerning lady would have proved an insurmountable objection， was by her esteemed above all the white skins and clear complexions of the young Venetian nobility， her suitors.

Their marriage， which， though privately carried， could not long be kept a secret， came to the ears of the old man， Brabantio， who appeared in a solemn council of the senate， as an accuser of the Moor Othello， who by spells and witchcraft （he maintained） had seduced the affections of the fair Desdemona to marry him， without the consent of her father， and against the obligations of hospitality.

At this juncture of time it happened that the state of Venice had immediate need of the services of Othello， news having arrived that the Turks with mighty preparation had fitted out a fleet， which was bending its course to the island of Cyprus， with intent to regain that strong post from the Venetians， who then held it; in this emergency the state turned its eyes upon Othello， who alone was deemed adequate to conduct the defence of Cyprus against the Turks.So that Othello， now summoned before the senate， stood in their presence at once as a candidate for a great state employment， and as a culprit， charged with offences which by the laws of Venice was made capital.

The age and senatorial character of old Brabantio commanded a most patient hearing from that grave assembly; but the incensed father conducted his accusation with so much intemperance， producing likelihoods and allegations for proofs， that， when Othello was called upon for his defence， he had only to relate a plain tale of the course of his love; which he did with such an artless eloquence， recounting the whole story of his wooing， as we have related it above， and delivered his speech with so noble a plainness （the evidence of truth）， that the duke， who sat as chief judge， could not help confessing that a tale so told would have won his daughter too; and the spells and conjurations which Othello had used in his courtship plainly appeared to have been no more than the honest arts of men in love; and the only witchcraft which he had used， the faculty of telling a soft tale to win a lady's ear.

This statement of Othello was confirmed by the testimony of the lady Desdemona herself， who appeared in court， and， professing a duty to her father for life and education， challenged leave of him to profess a yet higher duty to her lord and husband， even so much as her mother had shown in preferring him （Brabantio） above her father.

The old senator， unable to maintain his plea， called the Moor to him with many expressions of sorrow， and， as an act of necessity， bestowed upon him his daughter， whom， if he had been free to withhold her （he told him）， he would with all his heart have kept from him; adding that he was glad at soul that he had no other child， for this behavior of Desdemona would have taught him to be a tyrant， and hang clogs on them for her desertion.

This difficulty being got over， Othello， to whom custom had rendered the hardships of a military life as natural as food and rest are to other men， readily undertook the management of the wars in Cyprus: and Desdemona， preferring the honor of her lord （though with danger） before the indulgence of those idle delights in which new-married people usually waste their time， cheerfully consented to his going.

No sooner were Othello and his lady landed in Cyprus， than news arrived that a desperate tempest had dispersed the Turkish fleet， and thus the island was secure from any immediate apprehension of an attack.But the war which Othello was to suffer was now beginning; and the enemies which malice stirred up against his innocent lady proved in their nature more deadly than strangers or infidels.

Among all the general's friends no one possessed the confidence of Othello more entirely than Cassio.Michael Cassio was a young soldier， a Florentine， gay， amorous， and of pleasing address， favorite qualities with women; he was handsome and eloquent， and exactly such a person as might alarm the jealousy of a man advanced in years （as Othello in some measure was） who had married a young and beautiful wife; but Othello was as free from jealousy as he was noble， and as incapable of suspecting as of doing a base action.He had employed this Cassio in his love affair with Desdemona， and Cassio had been a sort of go-between in his suit: for Othello， fearing that himself had not those soft parts of conversation which please ladies， and finding these qualities in his friend， would often depute Cassio to go （as he phrased it） a-courting for him: such innocent simplicity being rather an honor than a blemish to the character of the valiant Moor.So that no wonder， if next to Othello himself （but at far distance， as beseems a virtuous wife） the gentle Desdemona loved and trusted Cassio.Nor had the marriage of this couple made any difference in their behavior to Michael Cassio.He frequented their house， and his free and rattling talk was no unpleasing variety to Othello， who was himself of a more serious temper: for such tempers are observed often to delight in their contraries， as a relief from the oppressive excess of their own; and Desdemona and Cassio would talk and laugh together， as in the days when he went a-courting for his friend.

Othello had lately promoted Cassio to be the lieutenant， a place of trust， and nearest to the general's person.This promotion gave great offence to Iago， an older officer， who thought he had a better claim than Cassio， and would often ridicule Cassio as a fellow fit only for the company of ladies， and one that knew no more of the art of war or how to set an army in array for battle， than a girl.Iago hated Cassio， and he hated Othello， as well for favoring Cassio as for an unjust suspicion which he had lightly taken up against Othello， that the Moor was too fond of Iago's wife Emilia.From these imaginary provocations， the plotting mind of Iago conceived a horrid scheme of revenge， which should involve both Cassio， the Moor， and Desdemona in one common ruin.

Iago was artful， and had studied human nature deeply， and he knew that， of all the torments which afflict the mind of man （and far beyond bodily torture）， the pains of jealousy were the most intolerable， and had the sorest sting.If he could succeed in making Othello jealous of Cassio， he thought it would be an exquisite plot of revenge， and might end in the death of Cassio or Othello， or both—he cared not.

The arrival of the general and his lady in Cyprus meeting with the news of the dispersion of the enemy's fleet made a sort of holiday in the island.Everybody gave themselves up to feasting and making merry.Wine flowed in abundance， and cups went round to the health of the black Othello and his lady the fair Desdemona.

Cassio had the direction of the guard that night， with a charge from Othello to keep the soldiers from excess in drinking， that no brawl might arise， to fright the inhabitants or disgust them with the newlanded forces.That night Iago began his deep-laid plans of mischief; under color of loyalty and love to the general， he enticed Cassio to make rather too free with the bottle （a great fault in an officer upon guard）.Cassio for a time resisted， but he could not long hold out against the honest freedom which Iago knew how to put on， but kept swallowing glass after glass （as Iago still plied him with drink and encouraging songs）， and Cassio's tongue ran over in praise of the lady Desdemona， whom he again and again toasted， affirming that she was a most exquisite lady: until at last the enemy which he put into his mouth stole away his brains; and upon some provocation given him by a fellow whom Iago had set on， swords were drawn， and Montano， a worthy officer， who interfered to appease the dispute， was wounded in the scuffle.The riot now began to be general， and Iago， who had set on foot the mischief， was foremost in spreading the alarm， causing the castle-bell to be rung （as if some dangerous mutiny instead of a slight drunken quarrel had arisen）.the alarm-bell ringing awakened Othello， who dressing in a hurry， and coming to the scene of action， questioned Cassio of the cause.Cassio was now come to himself， the effect of the wine having a little gone off， but was too much ashamed to reply; and Iago， pretending a great reluctance to accuse Cassio， but as it were forced into it by Othello， who insisted to know the truth， gave an account of the whole matter （leaving out his own share in it， which Cassio was too far gone to remember） in such a manner as， while he seemed to make Cassio's offence less， did indeed make it appear greater than it was.The result was that Othello， who was a strict observer of discipline， was compelled to take away Cassio's place of lieutenant from him.

Thus did Iago's first artifice succeed completely; he had now undermined his hated rival， and thrust him out of his place; but a further use was hereafter to be made of the adventure of this disastrous night.

Cassio， whom this misfortune had entirely sobered， now lamented to his seeming friend Iago that he should have been such a fool as to transform himself into a beast.He was undone， for how could he ask the general for his place again? He would tell him he was a drunkard.He despised himself.Iago， affecting to make light of it， said that he， or any man living， might be drunk upon occasion; it remained now to make the best of a bad bargain; the general's wife was now the general， and could do anything with Othello; that he were best to apply to the lady Desdemona to mediate for him with her lord; that she was of a frank， obliging disposition， and would readily undertake a good office of this sort， and set Cassio right again in the general's favor; and then this crack in their love would be made stronger than ever.A good advice of Iago， if it had not been given for wicked purposes， which will after appear.

Cassio did as Iago advised him， and made application to the lady Desdemona， who was easy to be won over in any honest suit; and she promised Cassio that she should be his solicitor with her lord， and rather die than give up his cause.This she immediately set about in so earnest and pretty a manner that Othello， who was mortally offended with Cassio， could not put her off.When he pleaded delay， and that it was too soon to pardon such an offender， she would not be beat back， but insisted that it should be the next night， or the morning after， or the next morning to that at furthest.Then she showed how penitent and humbled poor Cassio was， and that his offence did not deserve so sharp a check.And when Othello still hung back， “What! my lord，”said she， “that I should have so much to do to plead for Cassio， Michael Cassio， that came a-courting for you， and oftentimes， when I have spoken in dispraise of you， has taken your part! I count this but a little thing to ask of you.When I mean to try your love indeed， I shall ask a weighty matter.”Othello could deny nothing to such a pleader， and， only requesting that Desdemona would leave the time to him， promised to receive Michael Cassio again into favor.

It happened that Othello and Iago had entered into the room where Desdemona was， just as Cassio， who had been imploring her intercession， was departing at the opposite door; and Iago， who was full of art， said in a low voice， as if to himself， “I like not that.”Othello took no great notice of what he said; indeed， the conference which immediately took place with his lady put it out of his head， but he remembered it afterward.For when Desdemona was gone， Iago， as if for mere satisfaction of his thought， questioned Othello whether Michael Cassio， when Othello was courting his lady， knew of his love.To this the general answering in the affirmative， and adding， that he had gone between them very often during the courtship， Iago knitted his brow， as if he had got fresh light on some terrible matter， and cried， “Indeed!”This brought into Othello's mind the words which Iago had let fall upon entering the room， and seeing Cassio with Desdemona; and he began to think there was some meaning in all this: for he deemed Iago to be a just man， and full of love and honesty， and， what in a false knave would be tricks， in him seemed to be the natural workings of an honest mind， big with something too great for utterance: and Othello prayed Iago to speak what he knew， and to give his worst thoughts words.“And what，”said Iago， “if some thoughts very vile should have intruded into my breast， as where is the palace into which foul things do not enter?”Then Iago went on to say， what a pity it were， if any trouble should arise to Othello out of his imperfect observations; that it would not be for Othello's peace to know his thoughts; that people's good names were not to be taken away for slight suspicions; and when Othello's curiosity was raised almost to distraction with these hints and scattered words， Iago， as if in earnest care for Othello's peace of mind， besought him to beware of jealousy.with such art did this villain raise suspicions in the unguarded Othello， by the very caution which he pretended to give him against suspicion.“I know，”said Othello， “that my wife is fair， loves company and feasting， is free of speech， sings， plays， and dances well: but where virtue is， these qualities are virtuous.I must have proof before I think her dishonest.”Then Iago， as if glad that Othello was slow to believe ill of his lady， frankly declared that he had no proof， but begged Othello to observe her behavior well when Cassio was by; not to be jealous， nor too secure neither， for that he （Iago） knew the dispositions of the Italian ladies， his countrywomen， better than Othello could do; and that in Venice the wives let heaven see many pranks they dare not show their husbands.Then he artfully insinuated that Desdemona deceived her father in marrying with Othello， and carried it so closely that the poor old man thought that witchcraft had been used.Othello was much moved with this argument， which brought the matter home to him; for if she had deceived her father， why might she not deceive her husband?

Iago begged pardon for having moved him; but Othello， assuming an indifference， while he was really shaken with inward grief at Iago's words， begged him to go on， which Iago did with many apologies， as if unwilling to produce anything against Cassio， whom he called his friend.He then came strongly to the point， and reminded Othello how Desdemona had refused many suitable matches of her own clime and complexion， and had married him， a Moor， which showed unnatural in her， and proved her to have a headstrong will; and when her better judgment returned， how probable it was she should fall upon comparing Othello with the fine forms and clear white complexions of the young Italians her countrymen.He concluded with advising Othello to put off his reconcilement with Cassio a little longer， and in the mean while to note with what earnestness Desdemona should intercede in his behalf， for that much would be seen in that.So mischievously did this artful villain lay his plots to turn the gentle qualities of this innocent lady into her destruction， and make a net for her out of her own goodness to entrap her: first setting Cassio on to entreat her mediation， and then out of that very mediation contriving stratagems for her ruin.

The conference ended with Iago's begging Othello to account his wife innocent until he had more decisive proof; and Othello promised to be patient: but from that moment the deceived Othello never tasted content of mind.Poppy， nor the juice of mandragora， nor all the sleeping-potions in the world could ever again restore to him that sweet rest which he had enjoyed but yesterday.His occupation sickened upon him.He no longer took delight in arms.His heart， that used to be roused at the sight of troops and banners and battle array， and would stir and leap at the sound of a drum or a trumpet or a neighing war-horse， seemed to have lost all that pride and ambition which are a soldier's virtue; and his military ardor and all his old joys forsook him.Sometimes he thought his wife honest， and at times he thought her not so; sometimes he thought Iago just， and at times he thought him not so; then he would wish that he had never known of it; he was not the worse for her loving Cassio， so long as he knew it not.Torn to pieces with these distracting thoughts， he once laid hold on Iago's throat， and demanded proof of Desdemona's guilt， or threatened instant death for his having belied her.Iago， feigning indignation that his honesty should be taken for a vice， asked Othello if he had not sometimes seen a handkerchief spotted with strawberries in his wife's hand.Othello answered that he had given her such a one， and that it was his first gift.“That same handkerchief，”said Iago， “did I see Michael Cassio this day wipe his face with.”“If it be as you say，”said Othello， “I will not rest till a wide revenge swallow them up; and first， for a token of your fidelity， I expect that Cassio shall be put to death within three days; and for that fair devil （meaning his lady） I will withdraw and devise some swift means of death for her.”

Trifles， light as air， are to the jealous proofs as strong as holy writ.A handkerchief of his wife's seen in Cassio's hand was motive enough to the deluded Othello to pass sentence of death upon them both， without once inquiring how Cassio came by it.Desdemona had never given such a present to Cassio， nor would this constant lady have wronged her lord with doing so naughty a thing as giving his present to another man.Both Cassio and Desdemona were innocent of any offence against Othello; but the wicked Iago， whose spirits never slept in contrivance of villany， had made his wife （a good， but a weak woman） steal this handkerchief from Desdemona， under pretence of getting the work copied， but in reality to drop it in Cassio's way， where he might find it， and give a handle to Iago's suggestion that it was Desdemona's present.

Othello， soon after meeting his wife， pretended that he had a headache （as he might indeed with truth）， and desired her to lend him her handkerchief to hold to his temples.She did so.“Not this，”said Othello， “but that handkerchief I gave you.”Desdemona had it not about her （for indeed it was stolen as we have related）.“How!”said Othello， “this is a fault indeed.That handkerchief an Egyptian woman gave to my mother; the woman was a witch， and could read people's thoughts: she told my mother， while she kept it， it would make her amiable， and my father would love her; but， if she lost it， or gave it away， my father's fancy would turn， and he would loathe her as much as he had loved her.She dying gave it me， and bade me， if I ever married， to give it to my wife.I did so; take heed of it.Make it a darling as precious as your eye.”“It is possible?”said the frighted lady.“'Tis true，”continued Othello; “it is a magical handkerchief; a sibyl that had lived in the world two hundred years， in a fit of prophetic fury worked it; the silk-worms that furnished the silk were hallowed， and it was dyed in a mummy of maidens' hearts conserved.”Desdemona， hearing the wondrous virtues of the handkerchief， was ready to die with fear， for she plainly perceived she had lost it， and with it， she feared， the affections of her husband.Then Othello started， and looked as if he were going to do some rash thing， and still he demanded the handkerchief， which， when she could not produce， she tried to divert her husband from too serious thoughts， and cheerfully told him she saw all his talk about the handkerchief was only to put her off from her suit about Michael Cassio， whom she went on to praise （as Iago had foretold）， till Othello in perfect distraction burst out of the room， and then Desdemona， though unwillingly， began to suspect that her lord was jealous.

What cause she could have ministered to him she knew not， and then she accused herself for accusing the noble Othello， and thought to be sure that some untoward news from Venice， or some state troubles， had puddled his spirits， and made his temper not so sweet as formerly.And she said: “Men are not gods; and we must not look for that observance from them when they are married which they show us on the bridal day.”And she beshrewed herself for so unkindly judging of his unkindness.

Again Othello and Desdemona met， and he accused her more plainly of being unfaithful， and of loving another man， but he did not name whom: and Othello wept， and Desdemona said: “Alas! the heavy day! why do you weep?”And Othello told her he could have borne all sorts of evils with fortitude—poverty， and disease， and disgrace; but her infidelity had broken his heart: and he called her a weed that looked so fair， and smelled so sweet， that the sense ached at it; and wished she had never been born.And when he had left her， this innocent lady was so stupefied with wonder at her lord's untrue suspicion of her that a weight-like sleep came over her， and she only desired her attendant to make her bed， and to lay her wedding-sheets upon it， saying that， when people teach their babes， they do it by gentle means and easy tasks， and Othello might have chid her so; for in good faith she was but a child when she was chidden.And this was all the complaint which this gentle lady made.

Desdemona being retired to bed expecting her lord would follow her， soon fell into a slumber the effect of her troubled spirits， when Othello entered the chamber， full of the black purpose which he had meditated of putting his lady to death.But when he saw her asleep， he thought he would not shed her blood， nor scar that white skin of hers， more white than alabaster.But he was resolved she should die; else （as he said） she would live to betray more men， as she had done him.Then he kissed her for the last time （as he said）， and that kiss was so sweet that he must needs kiss her again: and he wept， but he said they were cruel tears.

Desdemona was awakened with his kisses， and she looked upon Othello， and she saw him gnaw his under lip and roll his eyes， and she knew he was always fatal when he looked so: and he bade her prepare for death， and to say her prayers， for he would not kill her soul.And this innocent wife， as she lay at his mercy， begged for compassion， and to know her fault， and then he named Cassio， and the handkerchief which （he said） she had given him; and as the guiltless lady was proceeding to clear herself， he suddenly would hear no more， but， covering her up in the bed-clothes， stifled her till she died.

In this instant of time was brought into the house Cassio， wounded and bleeding， whom Iago had set one of his creatures on to assassinate; but the fellow not succeeding in his attempt to kill Cassio （whom he wounded， but not mortally）， and being himself killed by Iago to prevent discovery， in his pockets were found certain letters， which made the guilt of Iago， and the innocence of Cassio， clear beyond all doubt; and Cassio now came to beg pardon of Othello， and to ask wherein he had offended him， that he had employed Iago to murder him.

This discovery was as a thunderstroke to Othello， who now plainly saw that he was no better than a murderer， and that his wife （poor innocent lady） had been ever faithful to him; the extreme anguish of which discovery making life insupportable， he fell upon his sword， and throwing himself upon the body of his dear， injured lady， expired.

These rash acts raised much passion of horror and amazement in the bystanders， for Othello had borne a fair reputation， and till he was wrought upon by the arts of a villain， which his own noble nature never gave his leave to suspect， he was a loving and a doting husband.He had loved not wisely， but too well; and his manly eyes （when he learned his mistake）， though not used to weep on every small occasion， dropped tears as fast as the Arabian trees their gum.And when he was dead， all his former merits and his valiant acts were remembered.Nothing now remained for his successor but to put the utmost censure of the law in force against Iago， who was executed with strict tortures; and to send word to the state of Venice of the lamentable death of their renowned general.

Table of Contents

版权信息

目录

安徒生童话选集：英汉对照

冷杉树

小美人鱼

野天鹅

丑小鸭

卖火柴的小女孩

小克劳斯和大克劳斯

勇敢的锡兵

拇指姑娘

夜莺

冰雪女王（七个故事）

第一个故事 镜子和碎片

第二个故事 一个小男孩和一个小女孩

第三个故事 女魔法师的花园

第四个故事 王子和公主

第五个故事 小女匪

第六个故事 拉普兰女人和芬兰女人

第七个故事 冰雪女王的宫殿和最后的结局

老头子做的事总是对的

打火匣

会飞的箱子

The Fir Tree

The Little Mermaid

The Wild Swans

The Ugly Duckling

The Little Match Girl

Little Claus and Big Claus

The Brave Tin Soldier

Little Tiny or Thumbelina

The Nightingale

The Snow Queen In Seven Stories

Story the First Which Describes a Looking-Glass and the Broken Fragments

Second Story A Little Boy and a Little Girl

Third Story The Flower Garden of the Woman Who Could Conjure

Fourth Story The Prince and Princess

Fifth Story Little Robber-Girl

Sixth Story The Lapland Woman and the Finland Woman

Seventh Story Of the Palace of the Snow Queen and What Happened There At Last

What the Old Man Does Is Always Right

The Tinder-Box

The Flying Trunk

茶花女：汉英对照

第一章

第二章

第三章

第四章

第五章

第六章

第七章

第八章

第九章

第十章

第十一章

第十二章

第十三章

第十四章

第十五章

第十六章

第十七章

第十八章

第十九章

第二十章

第二十一章

第二十二章

第二十三章

第二十四章

第二十五章

第二十六章

第二十七章

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

老人与海——汉英对照

老人与海

The Old Man and the Sea

莎士比亚故事集：英汉对照

序言

暴风雨

仲夏夜之梦

冬天的故事

无事生非

皆大欢喜

威尼斯商人

辛白林

李尔王

麦克白

第十二夜

罗密欧与朱丽叶

哈姆雷特

奥赛罗

Tales from Shakespeare Preface

The Tempest

A Midsummer Night's Dream

The Winter's Tale

Much A do About Nothing

As You Like It

The Merchant of Venice

Cymbeline

King Lear

Macbeth

Twelfth Night

Romeo and Juliet

Hamlet

Othello