"Well, Midas," observed his visitor, "I see that you have at length hit upon something that will satisfy you. Tell me your wish."
"It is only this," replied Midas. "I am weary of collecting my treasures with so much trouble, and beholding6 the heap so diminutive8, after I have done my best. I wish everything that I touch to be changed to gold!"
The stranger's smile grew so very broad, that it seemed to fill the room like an outburst of the sun, gleaming into a shadowy dell, where the yellow autumnal leaves—for so looked the lumps and particles of gold—lie strewn in the glow of light.
"The Golden Touch!" exclaimed he. "You certainly deserve credit, friend Midas, for striking out so brilliant a conception. But are you quite sure that this will satisfy you?"
"How could it fail?" said Midas.-52-
"And will you never regret the possession of it?"
"Be it as you wish, then," replied the stranger, waving his hand in token of farewell. "To-morrow, at sunrise, you will find yourself gifted with the Golden Touch."
The figure of the stranger then became exceedingly bright, and Midas involuntarily closed his eyes. On opening them again, he beheld10 only one yellow sunbeam in the room, and, all around him, the glistening of the precious metal which he had spent his life in hoarding11 up.
Whether Midas slept as usual that night, the story does not say. Asleep or awake, however, his mind was probably in the state of a child's, to whom a beautiful new plaything has been promised in the morning. At any rate, day had hardly peeped over the hills, when King Midas was broad awake, and, stretching his arms out of bed, began to touch the objects that were within reach. He was anxious to prove whether the Golden Touch had really come, according to the stranger's promise. So he laid his finger on a chair by the bedside, and on various other things, but was grievously disappointed to perceive that they remained of exactly the same substance as before. Indeed, he felt very much afraid that he had only dreamed about the lustrous stranger, or else that the latter had been making game of him. And what a miserable12 affair would it be, if, after all his hopes, Midas must content himself with what little gold-53- he could scrape together by ordinary means, instead of creating it by a touch!
All this while, it was only the gray of the morning, with but a streak13 of brightness along the edge of the sky, where Midas could not see it. He lay in a very disconsolate14 mood, regretting the downfall of his hopes, and kept growing sadder and sadder, until the earliest sunbeam shone through the window, and gilded15 the ceiling over his head. It seemed to Midas that this bright yellow sunbeam was reflected in rather a singular way on the white covering of the bed. Looking more closely, what was his astonishment16 and delight, when he found that this linen17 fabric18 had been transmuted19 to what seemed a woven texture20 of the purest and brightest gold! The Golden Touch had come to him with the first sunbeam!
Midas started up, in a kind of joyful21 frenzy22, and ran about the room, grasping at everything that happened to be in his way. He seized one of the bed-posts, and it became immediately a fluted23 golden pillar. He pulled aside a window-curtain, in order to admit a clear spectacle of the wonders which he was performing; and the tassel24 grew heavy in his hand,—a mass of gold. He took up a book from the table. At his first touch, it assumed the appearance of such a splendidly bound and gilt-edged volume as one often meets with, nowadays; but, on running his fingers through the leaves, behold7! it was a bundle of thin golden plates, in which all the wisdom of the book had grown illegible25. He hurriedly put on his clothes, and was enraptured26 to see himself in a magnifi-54-cent suit of gold cloth, which retained its flexibility27 and softness, although it burdened him a little with its weight. He drew out his handkerchief, which little Marygold had hemmed28 for him. That was likewise gold, with the dear child's neat and pretty stitches running all along the border, in gold thread!
Somehow or other, this last transformation29 did not quite please King Midas. He would rather that his little daughter's handiwork should have remained just the same as when she climbed his knee and put it into his hand.
But it was not worth while to vex30 himself about a trifle. Midas now took his spectacles from his pocket, and put them on his nose, in order that he might see more distinctly what he was about. In those days, spectacles for common people had not been invented, but were already worn by kings; else, how could Midas have had any? To his great perplexity, however, excellent as the glasses were, he discovered that he could not possibly see through them. But this was the most natural thing in the world; for, on taking them off, the transparent31 crystal turned out to be plates of yellow metal, and, of course, were worthless as spectacles, though valuable as gold. It struck Midas as rather inconvenient32 that, with all his wealth, he could never again be rich enough to own a pair of serviceable spectacles.
"It is no great matter, nevertheless," said he to himself, very philosophically33. "We cannot expect any great good, without its being accompanied with some small inconvenience. The Golden-55- Touch is worth the sacrifice of a pair of spectacles, at least, if not of one's very eyesight. My own eyes will serve for ordinary purposes, and little Marygold will soon be old enough to read to me."
Wise King Midas was so exalted34 by his good fortune, that the palace seemed not sufficiently35 spacious36 to contain him. He therefore went downstairs, and smiled, on observing that the balustrade of the staircase became a bar of burnished37 gold, as his hand passed over it, in his descent. He lifted the door-latch (it was brass38 only a moment ago, but golden when his fingers quitted it), and emerged into the garden. Here, as it happened, he found a great number of beautiful roses in full bloom, and others in all the stages of lovely bud and blossom. Very delicious was their fragrance39 in the morning breeze. Their delicate blush was one of the fairest sights in the world; so gentle, so modest, and so full of sweet tranquillity40, did these roses seem to be.
But Midas knew a way to make them far more precious, according to his way of thinking, than roses had ever been before. So he took great pains in going from bush to bush, and exercised his magic touch most indefatigably41; until every individual flower and bud, and even the worms at the heart of some of them, were changed to gold. By the time this good work was completed, King Midas was summoned to breakfast; and as the morning air had given him an excellent appetite, he made haste back to the palace.
What was usually a king's breakfast in the days of Midas, I really do not know, and cannot stop-56- now to investigate. To the best of my belief, however, on this particular morning, the breakfast consisted of hot cakes, some nice little brook42 trout43, roasted potatoes, fresh boiled eggs, and coffee, for King Midas himself, and a bowl of bread and milk for his daughter Marygold. At all events, this is a breakfast fit to set before a king; and, whether he had it or not, King Midas could not have had a better.
Little Marygold had not yet made her appearance. Her father ordered her to be called, and, seating himself at table, awaited the child's coming, in order to begin his own breakfast. To do Midas justice, he really loved his daughter, and loved her so much the more this morning, on account of the good fortune which had befallen him. It was not a great while before he heard her coming along the passageway crying bitterly. This circumstance surprised him, because Marygold was one of the cheerfullest little people whom you would see in a summer's day, and hardly shed a thimbleful of tears in a twelvemonth. When Midas heard her sobs44, he determined45 to put little Marygold into better spirits, by an agreeable surprise; so, leaning across the table, he touched his daughter's bowl (which was a China one, with pretty figures all around it), and transmuted it to gleaming gold.
Meanwhile, Marygold slowly and disconsolately46 opened the door, and showed herself with her apron47 at her eyes, still sobbing48 as if her heart would break.
"How now, my little lady!" cried Midas.-57- "Pray what is the matter with you, this bright morning?"
Marygold, without taking the apron from her eyes, held out her hand, in which was one of the roses which Midas had so recently transmuted.
"Beautiful!" exclaimed her father. "And what is there in this magnificent golden rose to make you cry?"
"Ah, dear father!" answered the child, as well as her sobs would let her; "it is not beautiful, but the ugliest flower that ever grew! As soon as I was dressed I ran into the garden to gather some roses for you; because I know you like them, and like them the better when gathered by your little daughter. But, oh dear, dear me! What do you think has happened? Such a misfortune! All the beautiful roses, that smelled so sweetly and had so many lovely blushes, are blighted49 and spoilt! They are grown quite yellow, as you see this one, and have no longer any fragrance! What can have been the matter with them?"
"Poh, my dear little girl,—pray don't cry about it!" said Midas, who was ashamed to confess that he himself had wrought50 the change which so greatly afflicted51 her. "Sit down and eat your bread and milk! You will find it easy enough to exchange a golden rose like that (which will last hundreds of years) for an ordinary one which would wither52 in a day."
"I don't care for such roses as this!" cried Marygold, tossing it contemptuously away. "It has no smell, and the hard petals53 prick54 my nose!"-58-
The child now sat down to table, but was so occupied with her grief for the blighted roses that she did not even notice the wonderful transmutation of her China bowl. Perhaps this was all the better; for Marygold was accustomed to take pleasure in looking at the queer figures, and strange trees and houses, that were painted on the circumference55 of the bowl; and these ornaments56 were now entirely57 lost in the yellow hue58 of the metal.
Midas, meanwhile, had poured out a cup of coffee, and, as a matter of course, the coffee-pot, whatever metal it may have been when he took it up, was gold when he set it down. He thought to himself, that it was rather an extravagant59 style of splendor60, in a king of his simple habits, to breakfast off a service of gold, and began to be puzzled with the difficulty of keeping his treasures safe. The cupboard and the kitchen would no longer be a secure place of deposit for articles so valuable as golden bowls and coffee-pots.
Amid these thoughts, he lifted a spoonful of coffee to his lips, and, sipping61 it, was astonished to perceive that, the instant his lips touched the liquid, it became molten gold, and, the next moment, hardened into a lump!
"Ha!" exclaimed Midas, rather aghast.
"What is the matter, father?" asked little Marygold, gazing at him, with the tears still standing62 in her eyes.
"Nothing, child, nothing!" said Midas. "Eat your milk, before it gets quite cold."
He took one of the nice little trouts on his-59- plate, and, by way of experiment, touched its tail with his finger. To his horror, it was immediately transmuted from an admirably fried brook-trout into a gold-fish, though not one of those gold-fishes which people often keep in glass globes, as ornaments for the parlor63. No; but it was really a metallic64 fish, and looked as if it had been very cunningly made by the nicest goldsmith in the world. Its little bones were now golden wires; its fins65 and tail were thin plates of gold; and there were the marks of the fork in it, and all the delicate, frothy appearance of a nicely fried fish, exactly imitated in metal. A very pretty piece of work, as you may suppose; only King Midas, just at that moment, would much rather have had a real trout in his dish than this elaborate and valuable imitation of one.
"I don't quite see," thought he to himself, "how I am to get any breakfast."
He took one of the smoking-hot cakes, and had scarcely broken it, when, to his cruel mortification66, though, a moment before, it had been of the whitest wheat, it assumed the yellow hue of Indian meal. To say the truth, if it had really been a hot Indian cake, Midas would have prized it a good deal more than he now did, when its solidity and increased weight made him too bitterly sensible that it was gold. Almost in despair, he helped himself to a boiled egg, which immediately underwent a change similar to those of the trout and the cake. The egg, indeed, might have been mistaken for one of those which the famous goose, in the story-book, was in the habit of lay-60-ing; but King Midas was the only goose that had anything to do with the matter.
"Well, this is a quandary67!" thought he, leaning back in his chair, and looking quite enviously68 at little Marygold, who was now eating her bread and milk with great satisfaction. "Such a costly69 breakfast before me, and nothing that can be eaten!"
Hoping that, by dint70 of great dispatch, he might avoid what he now felt to be a considerable inconvenience, King Midas next snatched a hot potato, and attempted to cram71 it into his mouth, and swallow it in a hurry. But the Golden Touch was too nimble for him. He found his mouth full, not of mealy potato, but of solid metal, which so burnt his tongue that he roared aloud, and, jumping up from the table, began to dance and stamp about the room, both with pain and affright.
"Father, dear father!" cried little Marygold, who was a very affectionate child, "pray what is the matter? Have you burnt your mouth?"
And, truly, my dear little folks, did you ever hear of such a pitiable case in all your lives? Here was literally73 the richest breakfast that could be set before a king, and its very richness made it absolutely good for nothing. The poorest laborer74, sitting down to his crust of bread and cup of water, was far better off than King Midas, whose delicate food was really worth its weight in-61- gold. And what was to be done? Already, at breakfast, Midas was excessively hungry. Would he be less so by dinner time? And how ravenous75 would be his appetite for supper, which must undoubtedly76 consist of the same sort of indigestible dishes as those now before him! How many days, think you, would he survive a continuance of this rich fare?
These reflections so troubled wise King Midas, that he began to doubt whether, after all, riches are the one desirable thing in the world, or even the most desirable. But this was only a passing thought. So fascinated was Midas with the glitter of the yellow metal, that he would still have refused to give up the Golden Touch for so paltry77 a consideration as a breakfast. Just imagine what a price for one meal's victuals78! It would have been the same as paying millions and millions of money (and as many millions more as would take forever to reckon up) for some fried trout, an egg, a potato, a hot cake, and a cup of coffee!
"It would be quite too dear," thought Midas.
Nevertheless, so great was his hunger, and the perplexity of his situation, that he again groaned aloud, and very grievously too. Our pretty Marygold could endure it no longer. She sat, a moment, gazing at her father, and trying, with all the might of her little wits, to find out what was the matter with him. Then, with a sweet and sorrowful impulse to comfort him, she started from her chair, and, running to Midas, threw her arms affectionately about his knees. He bent79 down and-62- kissed her. He felt that his little daughter's love was worth a thousand times more than he had gained by the Golden Touch.
"My precious, precious Marygold!" cried he.
But Marygold made no answer.
Alas80, what had he done? How fatal was the gift which the stranger bestowed81! The moment the lips of Midas touched Marygold's forehead, a change had taken place. Her sweet, rosy82 face, so full of affection as it had been, assumed a glittering yellow color, with yellow tear-drops congealing83 on her cheeks. Her beautiful brown ringlets took the same tint84. Her soft and tender little form grew hard and inflexible85 within her father's encircling arms. Oh, terrible misfortune! The victim of his insatiable desire for wealth, little Marygold was a human child no longer, but a golden statue!
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收听单词发音
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1
meditated
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| 深思，沉思，冥想( meditate的过去式和过去分词 )； 内心策划，考虑 | |
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presentiment
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| n.预感，预觉 | |
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lustre
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| n.光亮，光泽；荣誉 | |
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4
glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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lustrous
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| adj.有光泽的；光辉的 | |
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6
beholding
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| v.看，注视( behold的现在分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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7
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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diminutive
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| adj.小巧可爱的，小的 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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10
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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11
hoarding
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| n.贮藏；积蓄；临时围墙；囤积v.积蓄并储藏（某物）( hoard的现在分词 ) | |
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12
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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13
streak
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| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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14
disconsolate
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| adj.忧郁的，不快的 | |
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gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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18
fabric
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| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
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transmuted
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| v.使变形，使变质，把…变成…( transmute的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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texture
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| n.(织物)质地；(材料)构造；结构；肌理 | |
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21
joyful
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| adj.欢乐的，令人欢欣的 | |
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frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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23
fluted
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| a.有凹槽的 | |
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tassel
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| n.流苏，穗；v.抽穗， （玉米）长穗须 | |
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illegible
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| adj.难以辨认的，字迹模糊的 | |
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26
enraptured
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| v.使狂喜( enrapture的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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flexibility
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| n.柔韧性，弹性，（光的）折射性，灵活性 | |
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hemmed
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| 缝…的褶边( hem的过去式和过去分词 )； 包围 | |
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transformation
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| n.变化；改造；转变 | |
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vex
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| vt.使烦恼，使苦恼 | |
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31
transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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inconvenient
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| adj.不方便的，令人感到麻烦的 | |
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philosophically
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| adv.哲学上；富有哲理性地；贤明地；冷静地 | |
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34
exalted
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| adj.(地位等)高的，崇高的；尊贵的，高尚的 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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37
burnished
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| adj.抛光的，光亮的v.擦亮（金属等），磨光( burnish的过去式和过去分词 )；被擦亮，磨光 | |
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38
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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39
fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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40
tranquillity
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| n. 平静, 安静 | |
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41
indefatigably
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| adv.不厌倦地，不屈不挠地 | |
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42
brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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43
trout
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| n.鳟鱼；鲑鱼(属) | |
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44
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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45
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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disconsolately
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| adv.悲伤地，愁闷地；哭丧着脸 | |
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47
apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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48
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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49
blighted
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| adj.枯萎的，摧毁的 | |
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50
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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51
afflicted
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| 使受痛苦，折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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52
wither
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| vt.使凋谢，使衰退，(用眼神气势等)使畏缩；vi.枯萎，衰退，消亡 | |
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53
petals
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| n.花瓣( petal的名词复数 ) | |
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54
prick
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| v.刺伤，刺痛，刺孔；n.刺伤，刺痛 | |
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55
circumference
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| n.圆周，周长，圆周线 | |
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56
ornaments
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| n.装饰( ornament的名词复数 )；点缀；装饰品；首饰v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的第三人称单数 ) | |
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57
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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58
hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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59
extravagant
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| adj.奢侈的；过分的；(言行等)放肆的 | |
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60
splendor
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| n.光彩；壮丽，华丽；显赫，辉煌 | |
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61
sipping
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的现在分词 ) | |
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62
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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63
parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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64
metallic
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| adj.金属的；金属制的；含金属的；产金属的；像金属的 | |
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65
fins
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| [医]散热片；鱼鳍；飞边；鸭掌 | |
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66
mortification
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| n.耻辱，屈辱 | |
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quandary
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| n.困惑，进迟两难之境 | |
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enviously
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| adv.满怀嫉妒地 | |
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costly
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| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
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70
dint
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| n.由于，靠；凹坑 | |
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71
cram
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| v.填塞，塞满，临时抱佛脚，为考试而学习 | |
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72
groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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laborer
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| n.劳动者，劳工 | |
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ravenous
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| adj.极饿的，贪婪的 | |
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undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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paltry
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| adj.无价值的，微不足道的 | |
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victuals
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| n.食物；食品 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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bestowed
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| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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83
congealing
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| v.使凝结，冻结( congeal的现在分词 )；（指血）凝结 | |
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84
tint
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| n.淡色，浅色；染发剂；vt.着以淡淡的颜色 | |
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85
inflexible
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| adj.不可改变的，不受影响的，不屈服的 | |
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