Having said this, I return to Prince Dolor, that little lame2 boy whom many may think so exceedingly to be pitied. But if you had seen him as he sat patiently untying3 his wonderful cloak, which was done up in a very tight and perplexing parcel, using skillfully his deft4 little hands, and knitting his brows with firm determination, while his eyes glistened5 with pleasure and energy and eager anticipation—if you had beheld6 him thus, you might have changed your opinion.
When we see people suffering or unfortunate, we feel very sorry for them; but when we see them bravely bearing their sufferings and making the best of their misfortunes, it is quite a different feeling. We respect, we admire them. One can respect and admire even a little child.
When Prince Dolor had patiently untied7 all the knots, a remarkable8 thing happened. The cloak began to undo9 itself. Slowly unfolding, it laid itself down on the carpet, as flat as if it had been ironed; the split joined with a little sharp crick-crack, and the rim10 turned up all round till it was breast-high; for meantime the cloak had grown and grown, and become quite large enough for one person to sit in it as comfortable as if in a boat.
The Prince watched it rather anxiously; it was such an extraordinary, not to say a frightening, thing. However, he was no coward, but a thorough boy, who, if he had been like other boys, would doubtless have grown up daring and adventurous—a soldier, a sailor, or the like. As it was, he could only show his courage morally, not physically11, by being afraid of nothing, and by doing boldly all that it was in his narrow powers to do. And I am not sure but that in this way he showed more real valor12 than if he had had six pairs of proper legs.
He said to himself: “What a goose I am! As if my dear godmother would ever have given me anything to hurt me. Here goes!”
So, with one of his active leaps, he sprang right into the middle of the cloak, where he squatted13 down, wrapping his arms tight round his knees, for they shook a little and his heart beat fast. But there he sat, steady and silent, waiting for what might happen next.
Nothing did happen, and he began to think nothing would, and to feel rather disappointed, when he recollected15 the words he had been told to repeat—“Abracadabra, dum dum dum!”
He repeated them, laughing all the while, they seemed such nonsense. And then—and then——
Now I don't expect anybody to believe what I am going to relate, though a good many wise people have believed a good many sillier things. And as seeing's believing, and I never saw it, I cannot be expected implicitly16 to believe it myself, except in a sort of a way; and yet there is truth in it—for some people.
The cloak rose, slowly and steadily17, at first only a few inches, then gradually higher and higher, till it nearly touched the skylight. Prince Dolor's head actually bumped against the glass, or would have done so had he not crouched18 down, crying “Oh, please don't hurt me!” in a most melancholy19 voice.
Then he suddenly remembered his godmother's express command—“Open the skylight!”
Regaining20 his courage at once, without a moment's delay he lifted up his head and began searching for the bolt—the cloak meanwhile remaining perfectly21 still, balanced in the air. But the minute the window was opened, out it sailed—right out into the clear, fresh air, with nothing between it and the cloudless blue.
Prince Dolor had never felt any such delicious sensation before. I can understand it. Cannot you? Did you never think, in watching the rooks going home singly or in pairs, soaring their way across the calm evening sky till they vanish like black dots in the misty22 gray, how pleasant it must feel to be up there, quite out of the noise and din1 of the world, able to hear and see everything down below, yet troubled by nothing and teased by no one—all alone, but perfectly content?
Something like this was the happiness of the little lame Prince when he got out of Hopeless Tower, and found himself for the first time in the pure open air, with the sky above him and the earth below.
True, there was nothing but earth and sky; no houses, no trees, no rivers, mountains, seas—not a beast on the ground, or a bird in the air. But to him even the level plain looked beautiful; and then there was the glorious arch of the sky, with a little young moon sitting in the west like a baby queen. And the evening breeze was so sweet and fresh—it kissed him like his godmother's kisses; and by and by a few stars came out—first two or three, and then quantities—quantities! so that when he began to count them he was utterly23 bewildered.
By this time, however, the cool breeze had become cold; the mist gathered; and as he had, as he said, no outdoor clothes, poor Prince Dolor was not very comfortable. The dews fell damp on his curls—he began to shiver.
“Perhaps I had better go home,” thought he.
But how? For in his excitement the other words which his godmother had told him to use had slipped his memory. They were only a little different from the first, but in that slight difference all the importance lay. As he repeated his “Abracadabra,” trying ever so many other syllables24 after it, the cloak only went faster and faster, skimming on through the dusky, empty air.
The poor little Prince began to feel frightened. What if his wonderful traveling-cloak should keep on thus traveling, perhaps to the world's end, carrying with it a poor, tired, hungry boy, who, after all, was beginning to think there was something very pleasant in supper and bed!
“Dear godmother,” he cried pitifully, “do help me! Tell me just this once and I'll never forget again.”
Instantly the words came rushing into his head—“Abracadabra, tum tum ti!” Was that it? Ah! yes—for the cloak began to turn slowly. He repeated the charm again, more distinctly and firmly, when it gave a gentle dip, like a nod of satisfaction, and immediately started back, as fast as ever, in the direction of the tower.
He reached the skylight, which he found exactly as he had left it, and slipped in, cloak and all, as easily as he had got out. He had scarcely reached the floor, and was still sitting in the middle of his traveling-cloak,—like a frog on a water-lily leaf, as his godmother had expressed it,—when he heard his nurse's voice outside.
“Bless us! what has become of your Royal Highness all this time? To sit stupidly here at the window till it is quite dark, and leave the skylight open, too. Prince! what can you be thinking of? You are the silliest boy I ever knew.”
“Am I?” said he absently, and never heeding25 her crossness; for his only anxiety was lest she might find out anything.
She would have been a very clever person to have done so. The instant Prince Dolor got off it, the cloak folded itself up into the tiniest possible parcel, tied all its own knots, and rolled itself of its own accord into the farthest and darkest corner of the room. If the nurse had seen it, which she didn't, she would have taken it for a mere26 bundle of rubbish not worth noticing.
Shutting the skylight with an angry bang, she brought in the supper and lit the candles with her usual unhappy expression of countenance27. But Prince Dolor hardly saw it; he only saw, hid in the corner where nobody else would see it, his wonderful traveling-cloak. And though his supper was not particularly nice, he ate it heartily28, scarcely hearing a word of his nurse's grumbling29, which to-night seemed to have taken the place of her sullen30 silence.
“Poor woman!” he thought, when he paused a minute to listen and look at her with those quiet, happy eyes, so like his mother's. “Poor woman! she hasn't got a traveling-cloak!”
And when he was left alone at last, and crept into his little bed, where he lay awake a good while, watching what he called his “sky-garden,” all planted with stars, like flowers, his chief thought was—“I must be up very early to-morrow morning, and get my lessons done, and then I'll go traveling all over the world on my beautiful cloak.”
So next day he opened his eyes with the sun, and went with a good heart to his lessons. They had hitherto been the chief amusement of his dull life; now, I am afraid, he found them also a little dull. But he tried to be good,—I don't say Prince Dolor always was good, but he generally tried to be,—and when his mind went wandering after the dark, dusty corner where lay his precious treasure, he resolutely31 called it back again.
“For,” he said, “how ashamed my godmother would be of me if I grew up a stupid boy!”
But the instant lessons were done, and he was alone in the empty room, he crept across the floor, undid32 the shabby little bundle, his fingers trembling with eagerness, climbed on the chair, and thence to the table, so as to unbar the skylight,—he forgot nothing now,—said his magic charm, and was away out of the window, as children say, “in a few minutes less than no time.”
Nobody missed him. He was accustomed to sit so quietly always that his nurse, though only in the next room, perceived no difference. And besides, she might have gone in and out a dozen times, and it would have been just the same; she never could have found out his absence.
For what do you think the clever godmother did? She took a quantity of moonshine, or some equally convenient material, and made an image, which she set on the window-sill reading, or by the table drawing, where it looked so like Prince Dolor that any common observer would never have guessed the deception33; and even the boy would have been puzzled to know which was the image and which was himself.
And all this while the happy little fellow was away, floating in the air on his magic cloak, and seeing all sorts of wonderful things—or they seemed wonderful to him, who had hitherto seen nothing at all.
First, there were the flowers that grew on the plain, which, whenever the cloak came near enough, he strained his eyes to look at; they were very tiny, but very beautiful—white saxifrage, and yellow lotus, and ground-thistles, purple and bright, with many others the names of which I do not know. No more did Prince Dolor, though he tried to find them out by recalling any pictures he had seen of them. But he was too far off; and though it was pleasant enough to admire them as brilliant patches of color, still he would have liked to examine them all. He was, as a little girl I know once said of a playfellow, “a very examining boy.”
“I wonder,” he thought, “whether I could see better through a pair of glasses like those my nurse reads with, and takes such care of. How I would take care of them, too, if I only had a pair!”
Immediately he felt something queer and hard fixing itself to the bridge of his nose. It was a pair of the prettiest gold spectacles ever seen; and looking downward, he found that, though ever so high above the ground, he could see every minute blade of grass, every tiny bud and flower—nay, even the insects that walked over them.
“Thank you, thank you!” he cried, in a gush34 of gratitude—to anybody or everybody, but especially to his dear godmother, who he felt sure had given him this new present. He amused himself with it for ever so long, with his chin pressed on the rim of the cloak, gazing down upon the grass, every square foot of which was a mine of wonders.
Then, just to rest his eyes, he turned them up to the sky—the blue, bright, empty sky, which he had looked at so often and seen nothing.
Now surely there was something. A long, black, wavy35 line, moving on in the distance, not by chance, as the clouds move apparently36, but deliberately37, as if it were alive. He might have seen it before—he almost thought he had; but then he could not tell what it was. Looking at it through his spectacles, he discovered that it really was alive; being a long string of birds, flying one after the other, their wings moving steadily and their heads pointed14 in one direction, as steadily as if each were a little ship, guided invisibly by an unerring helm.
“They must be the passage-birds flying seaward!” cried the boy, who had read a little about them, and had a great talent for putting two and two together and finding out all he could. “Oh, how I should like to see them quite close, and to know where they come from and whither they are going! How I wish I knew everything in all the world!”
A silly speech for even an “examining” little boy to make; because, as we grow older, the more we know the more we find out there is to know. And Prince Dolor blushed when he had said it, and hoped nobody had heard him.
Apparently somebody had, however; for the cloak gave a sudden bound forward, and presently he found himself high in the air, in the very middle of that band of aerial travelers, who had mo magic cloak to travel on—nothing except their wings. Yet there they were, making their fearless way through the sky.
Prince Dolor looked at them as one after the other they glided38 past him; and they looked at him—those pretty swallows, with their changing necks and bright eyes—as if wondering to meet in mid-air such an extraordinary sort of bird.
“Oh, I wish I were going with you, you lovely creatures! I'm getting so tired of this dull plain, and the dreary39 and lonely tower. I do so want to see the world! Pretty swallows, dear swallows! tell me what it looks like—the beautiful, wonderful world!”
But the swallows flew past him—steadily, slowly pursuing their course as if inside each little head had been a mariner's compass, to guide them safe over land and sea, direct to the place where they wished to go.
The boy looked after them with envy. For a long time he followed with his eyes the faint, wavy black line as it floated away, sometimes changing its curves a little, but never deviating40 from its settled course, till it vanished entirely41 out of sight.
Then he settled himself down in the center of the cloak, feeling quite sad and lonely.
“I think I'll go home,” said he, and repeated his “Abracadabra, tum tum ti!” with a rather heavy heart. The more he had, the more he wanted; and it is not always one can have everything one wants—at least, at the exact minute one craves42 for it; not even though one is a prince, and has a powerful and beneficent godmother.
He did not like to vex43 her by calling for her and telling her how unhappy he was, in spite of all her goodness; so he just kept his trouble to himself, went back to his lonely tower, and spent three days in silent melancholy, without even attempting another journey on his traveling-cloak.
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1
din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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2
lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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untying
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| untie的现在分词 | |
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deft
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| adj.灵巧的，熟练的（a deft hand 能手） | |
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glistened
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| v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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untied
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| 松开，解开( untie的过去式和过去分词 )； 解除，使自由； 解决 | |
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8
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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9
undo
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| vt.解开，松开；取消，撤销 | |
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10
rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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physically
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| adj.物质上，体格上，身体上，按自然规律 | |
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12
valor
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| n.勇气，英勇 | |
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13
squatted
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的过去式和过去分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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recollected
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| adj.冷静的；镇定的；被回忆起的；沉思默想的v.记起，想起( recollect的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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implicitly
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| adv. 含蓄地, 暗中地, 毫不保留地 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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regaining
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| 复得( regain的现在分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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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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misty
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| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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24
syllables
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| n.音节( syllable的名词复数 ) | |
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25
heeding
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| v.听某人的劝告，听从( heed的现在分词 ) | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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27
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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grumbling
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| adj. 喃喃鸣不平的, 出怨言的 | |
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sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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32
Undid
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| v. 解开, 复原 | |
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deception
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| n.欺骗，欺诈；骗局，诡计 | |
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34
gush
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| v.喷，涌；滔滔不绝(说话)；n.喷，涌流；迸发 | |
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wavy
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| adj.有波浪的，多浪的，波浪状的，波动的，不稳定的 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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38
glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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40
deviating
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| v.偏离，越轨( deviate的现在分词 ) | |
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41
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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42
craves
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| 渴望，热望( crave的第三人称单数 )； 恳求，请求 | |
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43
vex
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| vt.使烦恼，使苦恼 | |
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