On the side of the mountain, away from the village street, perched the little hut of Grandfather Viaud. And here, on Christmas Eve, sat the old man and his wife, looking very sad and lonely. For there was no sound of childish laughter in the little hut, no patter of small feet, no whispering of Christmas secrets. The little Viauds had long since grown up and flown away to build nests of their own in far-off countries. Poor Josef Viaud and old Bettine were quite alone this Christmas Eve, save for the Saint Bernard dog who was stretched out before the fire, covering half the floor with his huge bulk, like a furry1 rug. He was the very Prince of dogs, as his name betokened2, and he was very good to Grandfather and Grandmother, who loved him dearly. But on Christmas Eve even the littlest cottage, crowded with the biggest tenants3, seems lonely unless there are children in the corners.
[58]
The Viauds sat silently gazing into the fire, with scarcely a word for each other, scarcely a caress4 for faithful Prince. Indeed, the great dog himself seemed to know that something was lacking, and every once in a while would lift his head and whine5 wistfully.
In each of the two small windows burned a row of candles, flickering6 in the draught7 that blew down the great chimney and swept through the little chamber8. And these, with the crackling blaze upon the hearth9, sent queer shadows quivering up the smoky walls.
Grandfather Viaud looked over his shoulder as a great gust10 blew the ashes into the room. "Hey!" he cried. "I almost fancied the shadow of one looking in at the window. Ha, ha! What foolishness! Eh! but it is a fearsome storm. Pray the good Lord that there may be no poor creatures wandering on the mountain this night."
"The Lord's birthday, too!" said Grandmother Bettine. "The dear little Child has a cold way to come. Even He might become[59] confused and be driven to wander by such a whirl of snow. I am glad that we set the tapers11 there, Josef, even though we be so far from the village street down which they say He passes. How pleasant to think that one might give light to His blessed feet if they were wandering from the way,—the dear little Child's feet, so rosy12 and soft and tender!" And good Grandmother Viaud dropped a tear upon her knitting; for she remembered many such little feet that had once pattered about the cottage floor. Prince lifted his head and seemed to listen, then whined13 as he had done before.
"You are lonely, old fellow, are you not?" quavered old Josef. "You are waiting for the children to come back and make it merry, as it used to be in the old days when you were a pup. Heigho! Those were pleasant days, but they will never come again, Prince. We are all growing old, we three together."
"Ah, peace, Josef, peace!" cried old Bettine, wiping her eyes again. "It is lonely enough and sad enough, God knows, without[60] speaking of it. What use to sigh for that which cannot be? If the good Lord wished us to have a comforter in our old age, doubtless He would send us one. He knows how we have longed and prayed that a child's feet might echo through our house once more: how we have hoped from year to year that one of the grandchildren might return to bless us with his little presence." At this moment Prince jumped to his feet with a low bark, and stood trembling, with pointed14 ears.
"What dost thou hear, old dog?" asked the Grandfather carelessly. "There is naught15 human abroad this night, I warrant you. All wise folk are hugging the fire like us. Only those bad spirits of Christmas Eve are howling about for mischief16, they say. Best keep away from the door, old Prince, lest they nip your toes or bite your nose for spite."
"Hush17!" cried the Grandmother, laying her hand upon his arm. "You forget: there is the Other One abroad. It may be that He—"
She was interrupted by Prince, who ran[61] eagerly to the door and began sniffing18 at the latch19 in great excitement. Then he gave a long, low howl. At the same moment the latch rattled20, and the Viauds distinctly heard a little voice cry, "Open, open, good people!"
The old couple looked at each other; the cheeks of one flushed, and the other's paled. At the same moment they rose stiffly from their chairs by the fire. But Grandmother Bettine was first at the door. She lifted the latch, the door blew open violently, and with a loud bark Prince dashed out into the storm.
"What is it? Who is there?" cried Josef Viaud, peering over his wife's shoulder. But no one answered save the rough storm, which fiercely blew into the faces of the old couple, whirling and screaming about their heads. "H'm! It was only a fancy," muttered the old man. "Come in, Mother. Come, Prince!" and he whistled out into the storm. But the wind whistled too, drowning his voice, and Prince did not return. "He is gone!" cried Josef impatiently. "It is some evil spirit's work."
"Nay21, Father!" and, as she spoke22, the door[62] banged violently in Josef's face, as if to emphasize the good wife's rebuke23. "It was a little child; I heard it," insisted Bettine, as they staggered back to the fire and sank weakly into their chairs. "Perhaps it was the Holy Child Himself, who knows? But why would He not enter? Why, Josef? Oh, I fear we were not good enough!"
"I only know that we have perhaps lost our good dog. Why did you open the door, Bettine?" grumbled24 Josef sleepily.
"Prince is not lost. For what was he bred a snow-dog upon the mountains if a storm like this be danger to him? He is of the race that rescues, that finds and is never lost. Mayhap the Holy Child had work for him this night. Ah, the Little One! If I could but have seen Him for one moment!" And good Bettine's head nodded drowsily25 on her chair-back. Presently the old couple were fast asleep.
Now when they had been dreaming strange things for some time, there came a scratching at the door, and a loud bark which woke them suddenly.[63]
"What was that?" exclaimed Grandfather, starting nervously26. "Ho, Prince! Are you without there?" and he ran to the door, while Grandmother was still rubbing from her eyes the happy dream which had made them moist,—the dream of a rosy, radiant Child who was to be the care and comfort of a lonely cottage. And then, before she had fairly wakened from the dream, Prince bounded into the room and laid before the fire at her feet a soft, snow-wrapped bundle, from which hung a pale little face with golden hair.
"It is the Child of my dream!" cried Bettine. "The Holy One has come back to us."
"Nay, this is no dream-child, mother. This is a little human fellow, nearly frozen to death," exclaimed Josef Viaud, pulling the bundle toward the fire. "Come, Bettine, let us take off his snow-stiff clothes and get some little garments from the chests yonder. I will give him a draught of something warm, and rub the life into his poor little hands and feet. We have both been dreaming, it seems. But certainly this is no dream!"[64]
"Look! The dove!" cried Grandmother, taking the bird from the child's bosom27, where it still nestled, warm and warming. "Josef! I believe it is indeed the Holy Child Himself," she whispered. "He bears a dove in his bosom, like the image in the Church." But even as she spoke the dove fluttered in her fingers, then, with a gentle "Coo-roo!" whirled once about the little chamber and darted28 out at the door, which they had forgotten quite to close. With that the child opened his eyes.
"The dove is gone!" he cried. "Yet I am warm. Why—has the little Stranger come once more?" Then he saw the kind old faces bent29 over him, and felt Prince's warm kisses on his hands and cheeks, with the fire flickering pleasantly beyond.
"It is like coming home again!" he murmured, and with his head on Bettine's shoulder dropped comfortably to sleep.
On the morrow all the village went to see the image of the Christ Child lying in a manger near the high altar of the church. It was a[65] sweet little Child in a white shirt, clasping in his hands a dove. They believed him to have come in the stormy night down the village street. And they were glad that their pious30 candles in the windows had guided Him safely on the road. But little Pierre, while he sang in the choir31, and his adopted parents, the Viauds, kneeling happily below, had sweet thoughts of a dream which had brought them all together.
Who knows but that Prince at home happily guarding Pierre's snow-wet old shoes—who knows but that Prince was dreaming the happiest dream of all? For only Prince knew how and where and under what guidance he had found the little friend of the Lord's friends sleeping in the snow, with but a white dove in his bosom to keep him from becoming a boy of ice.
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1
furry
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| adj.毛皮的；似毛皮的；毛皮制的 | |
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betokened
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| v.预示，表示( betoken的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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tenants
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| n.房客( tenant的名词复数 )；佃户；占用者；占有者 | |
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caress
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| vt./n.爱抚，抚摸 | |
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whine
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| v.哀号，号哭；n.哀鸣 | |
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flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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7
draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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gust
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| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
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11
tapers
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| （长形物体的）逐渐变窄( taper的名词复数 )； 微弱的光； 极细的蜡烛 | |
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12
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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13
whined
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| v.哀号( whine的过去式和过去分词 )；哀诉，诉怨 | |
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14
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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15
naught
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| n.无，零 [=nought] | |
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16
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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sniffing
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| n.探查法v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的现在分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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latch
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| n.门闩，窗闩；弹簧锁 | |
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rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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rebuke
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| v.指责，非难，斥责 [反]praise | |
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24
grumbled
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| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
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25
drowsily
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| adv.睡地，懒洋洋地，昏昏欲睡地 | |
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nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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27
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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28
darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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29
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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30
pious
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| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
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31
choir
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| n.唱诗班，唱诗班的席位，合唱团，舞蹈团；v.合唱 | |
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