One part of the garden was laid out in walks and avenues, with little vine-clad bowers2 here[4] and there, where the Princess could sit and read, or lie and dream. There were fountains and statues among the trees, and everything grand and stately to make a garden beautiful. Another part of the garden was left wild and tangled4, like a forest. Here all the shyest flowers grew in their own wild way; and here ran a little brook5, gurgling over the pebbles6 in a race to the foot of the hill. There never was seen a more complete and beautiful garden than this of the Princess Fleurette.
Now the fame of the Princess's beauty, like the fragrance7 of her garden, had been wafted8 a long way, and many persons came to prove it. A continual procession of princes from lands near and far traveled the long road that wound from the foot of the hill up and up and up to the entrance of the palace. They came upon their noble steeds, with gold and jeweled harness most gorgeous to see, riding curiously9 up amid the flowers, whose perfume filled their hearts with happiness and hope. The further they rode the more they longed to tarry forever in this fair place. And when[5] each one at last dismounted at the palace gate, and, going into the great hall, saw the Princess herself, more fair than any flower, sitting on her golden throne, he invariably fell upon his knees without delay, and begged her to let him be her very ownest Prince.
But the Princess always smiled mischievously10 and shook her head, saying,—
"I have no mind to exchange hearts, save with him who can find mine, where it is hidden among my flowers. Guess me my favorite flower, dear Prince, and I am yours."
This she said to every prince in turn. She did not greatly care to have any prince for her very ownest own, for she was happy enough among her flowers without one. But the Prince, whoever he might be, when he heard her strange words, would go out eagerly into the garden and wander, wander long among the flowers, searching to find the sweetest and most beautiful, which must be his lady's favorite. And, of course, he selected his own favorite, whatever that was. It might be that he would choose a great, wonderful rose. At[6] the proper time he would kneel and present it to the Princess, saying confidently,—
"O fair Princess, surely I have found the flower of your heart. See the beautiful rose! Give it then to me to wear always, as your very ownest Prince."
But the Princess, glancing at the rose, would shake her head and say,—
"Nay11! I love the roses, too. But my heart is not there, O Prince. You are not to be my lord, or you would have chosen better."
Then she would retire into her chamber12, to be no more seen while that Prince remained in the palace. Presently he would depart, riding sorrowfully down the hill on his gorgeous steed, amid the laughing flowers. And the Princess would be left to enjoy her garden in peace until the next prince should arrive.
It might be that this one would guess the glorious nodding poppy to be his lady's choice. But he would be no nearer than the other. A later comer would perhaps choose a gay tulip; another a fair and quiet lily; still another earnest soul would select the passion-flower,[7] noble and mysterious. But at all of these the Princess shook her head and denied them. There had never yet come a prince to the hill who found her heart's true flower. And the Princess lived on among her posies, very happy and very content, growing fairer and fairer, sweeter and sweeter, with their bloom upon her cheek and their fragrance in her breath. There never was seen a more beautiful princess than Fleurette.
Now the Princess loved to rise very early in the morning, before any of her people were awake, and to steal down by a secret staircase into the garden while it was yet bright with dew and newly wakened happiness. She loved to put on a gown of coarse green stuff, wherein she herself looked like a dainty pink and white flower in its sheath, and with a little trowel to dig in the fragrant13 mould at the roots of her plants, or train the vines with her slender fingers.
No one suspected that she did this, and she would not have had them suspect it for the world. For if the palace people had known,[8] they would have followed and annoyed her with attentions and suggestions. They would have brought her gloves to protect her pretty hands, and a veil, and parasol, and a rug upon which to kneel—if kneel she must—while weeding the flower-beds. Indeed, they would scarcely have allowed her to do anything at all. For were there not gardeners to attend to all this; and why should she bother herself to do anything but enjoy the blossoms when they were picked for her? They did not know, poor things, that the greatest joy in a flower is to watch and help it grow from a funny little seed into a leaf, then a tall green stalk, then a waking bud, until finally it keeps the promise of its first sprouting14, and becomes a blossom. They did not guess that the happiest hours of the Princess's life were those which she spent in the early morning tending her flower-babies, while her fond courtiers, and even the curious princes on their way to woo her, were still wasting the best part of the day on lazy pillows. Many a time the Gardener declared that a fairy must tend the royal[9] flowers, so wonderfully did they flourish, free from weed or worm or withering15 leaf. It even seemed to him sometimes that he could trace a delicate perfumed touch which had blessed their leaves before his coming. When he told this to Fleurette she only smiled sweetly at him. But in her heart she laughed; for she was a merry Princess.
One beautiful morning the Princess arose as usual, soon after sunrise, and, putting on her green flower-gown, stole down the secret staircase into the garden. There it lay, all fresh and wonderful, sparkling with diamond dewdrops. The Princess Fleurette walked up and down the paths, smiling at the blossoms, which held up their pretty faces and seemed to smile back at her, as if she were another flower. Sometimes she kneeled down on her royal knees in the gravel16, bending over to kiss the flowers with her red lips. Sometimes she paused to punish a greedy worm, or a rude weed which had crowded in among the precious roots. Sometimes with her little golden scissors she snipped17 off a withered[10] leaf or a faded flower of yesterday. Up and down the paths she passed, singing happily under her breath, but seldom plucking a flower; for she loved best to see them growing on their green stalks.
She came at last to a little summer-house, up which climbed morning-glories, blue and pink and white—fairy flowers of early morning, which few of her people ever saw, because they rose so late. For by the time those lazy folk were abroad, the best part of the day was spent; and the little morning-glories, having lived it happily, were ready for their rest. They drowsed and nodded and curled up tight into a long sleep, in which they missed nothing at all of the later day.
When Fleurette spied the morning-glories she clapped her little hands, and, running up to the arbor18, danced about on her tiptoes, whispering,—
"Good-morning, little dears! Good-morning, my beautiful ones. How fresh and sweet and fair you are!" And, plucking a single blossom, a cup of the frailest19 pink, she placed[11] it in her yellow hair, her only ornament20. Then she danced toward the little arbor, for it was her favorite early-morning bower3. But when she came to the door, instead of entering, she started back with a scream. For through the morning-glory vines two bright eyes were peering at her.
"Peek-a-boo!" said a merry voice. And out stepped a lad with a smiling, handsome face. He was dressed all in green. By his side hung a sword, and over his shoulder he bore a little lute21, such as minstrels use.
"Good-morning, merry maiden22," he said, doffing23 his cap and bowing very low. "You, too, love flowers in the early morning. We have good taste, we two, alone of all this place, it seems."
"You are not of this place. How came you here?" asked the Princess, stepping back and frowning somewhat. "Do you not know that this is the garden of a Princess, who allows no one to visit it between dusk and the third hour after sunrise?"
"Ah!" cried the youth, with a merry[12] laugh. "That I learned yesterday down below there in the village. And a foolish law it is. If the Princess knows no better than to forbid the sight of her garden when it is most beautiful, then the Princess deserves to be disobeyed. And for that matter, pretty maiden, are not you, too, a trespasser24 at this early hour? Aha! Oho!" The lad laughed, teasingly, shaking his finger at her.
The Princess bit her lip to keep from laughing. But she said as sternly as she could: "You are rude, Sir Greencoat. I am one of the best friends the Princess has. She allows me to come here at this hour, alone of all the world."
"Ah, share the right with me, dear maiden, share it with me!" exclaimed the Stranger. "Let me play with you here in the garden early in the morning. Do not tell her of my fault; but let me repeat it again, and yet again, while I remain in this land."
The Princess hesitated, then answered him with a question. "You are then of another country? You are soon to go away?"[13]
"Yes, I am of a far country. My name is Joyeuse, and I am a merry fellow,—a traveler, a minstrel, a swordsman, an herb-gatherer. I have earned my bread in many ways. I was passing through this country when the fragrance of this wondrous25 garden met my flower-loving nose, guiding me hither. Ah, how beautiful it is! Because I wished to see it at its best in early morning I stole through the gates at sundown, and spent the night in yonder little arbor. I have been wandering ever since among the flowers, until I heard your voice singing. Then I stole back here to hide, for I was too happy to risk being discovered and sent away."
"You are a bold, bad fellow, Joyeuse," said Fleurette, laughing; "and I have a mind to tell the Princess about you and your wanderings."
"Would she be so very angry?" asked the Stranger. "I will not pluck a single bud. I love them all too dearly, just as you do, dear maiden, for I have watched you. Ay, I could almost tell which is your favorite flower—"[14]
"Nay, that you cannot do," said the Princess hastily. "No one knows that."
"Aha!" cried the lad. "You make a secret of it, even as does your mistress, the Princess Fleurette. I have heard how she will choose for her Prince only him who finds the flower which holds her heart. I had thought one time to find that flower, and become her Prince."
"You!" cried the Princess, starting with surprise.
"Ay, why not? I could fight for her, and defend her with my life, if need be. I could sing and play to make her merry. I could teach her many things to make her wise. I am skilled in herbs and lotions26, and I could keep her people in health and happiness. Moreover, I love flowers as well as she,—better, since I love them at their best in this early morning: even as you love them, fair maiden. I should not make so poor a prince for this garden. But now that I have seen you, little flower, I have no longing27 to be a prince. I would not win the Princess if I[15] might. For you must be fairer than she—as you are fairer even than the flowers, your sisters. Ah, I have an idea! I believe that you are that very flower, the fairest one, whereon the Princess has set her heart. Tell me, is it not so?"
"Indeed no!" cried the Princess, turning very pink at his flattery. "How foolishly you speak! But I must hasten back to the palace, or we shall be discovered and some one will be punished."
"And shall I see you among the maidens28 of the Princess when I present myself before her?" asked Joyeuse eagerly.
"Oh, you must not do that!" exclaimed Fleurette. "You must not try to see the Princess to-day. This is a bad time. Perhaps to-morrow—" She hesitated.
"But you will come again to the garden?" he begged.
She shook her head. "No, not to-day, Joyeuse."
"Then to-morrow you will come? Promise that you will be here to-morrow morning early,[16] to play with me for a little while?" he persisted.
The Princess laughed a silvery little laugh. "Who knows whom you may find if you are in the garden again to-morrow morning early." And without another word she slipped away before Joyeuse could tell which way she went. For she knew every turning of the paths and all the windings29 between the hedges, which were puzzling to strangers.
点击收听单词发音
1 snugly | |
adv.紧贴地;贴身地;暖和舒适地;安适地 | |
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2 bowers | |
n.(女子的)卧室( bower的名词复数 );船首锚;阴凉处;鞠躬的人 | |
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3 bower | |
n.凉亭,树荫下凉快之处;闺房;v.荫蔽 | |
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4 tangled | |
adj. 纠缠的,紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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5 brook | |
n.小河,溪;v.忍受,容让 | |
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6 pebbles | |
[复数]鹅卵石; 沙砾; 卵石,小圆石( pebble的名词复数 ) | |
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7 fragrance | |
n.芬芳,香味,香气 | |
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8 wafted | |
v.吹送,飘送,(使)浮动( waft的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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9 curiously | |
adv.有求知欲地;好问地;奇特地 | |
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10 mischievously | |
adv.有害地;淘气地 | |
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11 nay | |
adv.不;n.反对票,投反对票者 | |
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12 chamber | |
n.房间,寝室;会议厅;议院;会所 | |
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13 fragrant | |
adj.芬香的,馥郁的,愉快的 | |
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14 sprouting | |
v.发芽( sprout的现在分词 );抽芽;出现;(使)涌现出 | |
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15 withering | |
使人畏缩的,使人害羞的,使人难堪的 | |
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16 gravel | |
n.砂跞;砂砾层;结石 | |
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17 snipped | |
v.剪( snip的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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18 arbor | |
n.凉亭;树木 | |
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19 frailest | |
脆弱的( frail的最高级 ); 易损的; 易碎的 | |
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20 ornament | |
v.装饰,美化;n.装饰,装饰物 | |
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21 lute | |
n.琵琶,鲁特琴 | |
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22 maiden | |
n.少女,处女;adj.未婚的,纯洁的,无经验的 | |
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23 doffing | |
n.下筒,落纱v.脱去,(尤指)脱帽( doff的现在分词 ) | |
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24 trespasser | |
n.侵犯者;违反者 | |
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25 wondrous | |
adj.令人惊奇的,奇妙的;adv.惊人地;异乎寻常地;令人惊叹地 | |
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26 lotions | |
n.洗液,洗剂,护肤液( lotion的名词复数 ) | |
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27 longing | |
n.(for)渴望 | |
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28 maidens | |
处女( maiden的名词复数 ); 少女; 未婚女子; (板球运动)未得分的一轮投球 | |
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29 windings | |
(道路、河流等)蜿蜒的,弯曲的( winding的名词复数 ); 缠绕( wind的现在分词 ); 卷绕; 转动(把手) | |
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