"I'd be a butterfly."
Griselda opened her eyes.
What did she see?
The loveliest, loveliest garden that ever or never a little girl's eyes saw. As for describing it, I cannot. I must leave a good deal to your fancy. It was just a delicious garden.
There was a charming mixture of all that is needed to make a garden perfect—grass, velvety1 lawn rather; water, for a little brook2 ran tinkling3 in and out, playing bopeep among the bushes; trees, of course, and flowers, of course, flowers of every shade and shape. But all these beautiful things Griselda did not at first give as much attention to as they deserved; her eyes were so occupied with a quite unusual sight that met them.
This was butterflies! Not that butterflies are so very uncommon5; but butterflies, as Griselda saw them, I am quite sure, children, none of you ever saw, or are likely to see. There were such enormous numbers of them, and the variety of their colours and sizes was so great. They were fluttering about everywhere; the garden seemed actually alive with them.
Griselda stood for a moment in silent delight, feasting her eyes on the lovely things before her, enjoying the delicious sunshine which kissed her poor little bare feet, and seemed to wrap her all up in its warm embrace. Then she turned to her little friend.
"Cuckoo," she said, "I thank you so much. This is fairyland, at last!"
The cuckoo smiled, I was going to say, but that would be a figure of speech only, would it not? He shook his head gently.
"Butterfly-land!" repeated Griselda, with a little disappointment in her tone.
"Well," said the cuckoo, "it's where you were wishing to be yesterday, isn't it?"
Griselda did not particularly like these allusions7 to "yesterday." She thought it would be as well to change the subject.
"It's a beautiful place, whatever it is," she said, "and I'm sure, cuckoo, I'm very much obliged to you for bringing me here. Now may I run about and look at everything? How delicious it is to feel the warm sunshine again! I didn't know how cold I was. Look, cuckoo, my toes and fingers are quite blue; they're only just beginning to come right again. I suppose the sun always shines here. How nice it must be to be a butterfly; don't you think so, cuckoo? Nothing to do but fly about."
She stopped at last, quite out of breath.
"Griselda," said the cuckoo, "if you want me to answer your questions, you must ask them one at a time. You may run about and look at everything if you like, but you had better not be in such a hurry. You will make a great many mistakes if you are—you have made some already."
"How?" said Griselda.
"Have the butterflies nothing to do but fly about? Watch them."
Griselda watched.
"They do seem to be doing something," she said, at last, "but I can't think what. They seem to be nibbling8 at the flowers, and then flying away something like bees gathering9 honey. Butterflies don't gather honey, cuckoo?"
"No," said the cuckoo. "They are filling their paint-boxes."
"What do you mean?" said Griselda.
"Come and see," said the cuckoo.
He flew quietly along in front of her, leading the way through the prettiest paths in all the pretty garden. The paths were arranged in different colours, as it were; that is to say, the flowers growing along their sides were not all "mixty-maxty," but one shade after another in regular order—from the palest blush pink to the very deepest damask crimson10; then, again, from the soft greenish blue of the small grass forget-me-not to the rich warm tinge11 of the brilliant cornflower. Every tint12 was there; shades, to which, though not exactly strange to her, Griselda could yet have given no name, for the daisy dew, you see, had sharpened her eyes to observe delicate variations of colour, as she had never done before.
"How beautifully the flowers are planned," she said to the cuckoo. "Is it just to look pretty, or why?"
"It saves time," replied the cuckoo. "The fetch-and-carry butterflies know exactly where to go to for the tint the world-flower-painters want."
"Who are the fetch-and-carry butterflies, and who are the world-flower-painters?" asked Griselda.
"Wait a bit and you'll see, and use your eyes," answered the cuckoo. "It'll do your tongue no harm to have a rest now and then."
Griselda thought it as well to take his advice, though not particularly relishing13 the manner in which it was given. She did use her eyes, and as she and the cuckoo made their way along the flower alleys14, she saw that the butterflies were never idle. They came regularly, in little parties of twos and threes, and nibbled15 away, as she called it, at flowers of the same colour but different shades, till they had got what they wanted. Then off flew butterfly No. 1 with perhaps the palest tint of maize16, or yellow, or lavender, whichever he was in quest of, followed by No. 2 with the next deeper shade of the same, and No. 3 bringing up the rear.
Griselda gave a little sigh.
"What's the matter?" said the cuckoo.
"They work very hard," she replied, in a melancholy17 tone.
"It's a busy time of year," observed the cuckoo, drily.
After a while they came to what seemed to be a sort of centre to the garden. It was a huge glass house, with numberless doors, in and out of which butterflies were incessantly18 flying—reminding Griselda again of bees and a beehive. But she made no remark till the cuckoo spoke19 again.
"Come in," he said.
Griselda had to stoop a good deal, but she did manage to get in without knocking her head or doing any damage. Inside was just a mass of butterflies. A confused mass it seemed at first, but after a while she saw that it was the very reverse of confused. The butterflies were all settled in rows on long, narrow, white tables, and before each was a tiny object about the size of a flattened-out pin's head, which he was most carefully painting with one of his tentacles20, which, from time to time, he moistened by rubbing it on the head of a butterfly waiting patiently behind him. Behind this butterfly again stood another, who after a while took his place, while the first attendant flew away.
"To fill his paint-box again," remarked the cuckoo, who seemed to read Griselda's thoughts.
"But what are they painting, cuckoo?" she inquired eagerly.
"All the flowers in the world," replied the cuckoo. "Autumn, winter, and spring, they're hard at work. It's only just for the three months of summer that the butterflies have any holiday, and then a few stray ones now and then wander up to the world, and people talk about 'idle butterflies'! And even then it isn't true that they are idle. They go up to take a look at the flowers, to see how their work has turned out, and many a damaged petal21 they repair, or touch up a faded tint, though no one ever knows it."
"I know it now," said Griselda. "I will never talk about idle butterflies again—never. But, cuckoo, do they paint all the flowers here, too? What a fearful lot they must have to do!"
"No," said the cuckoo; "the flowers down here are fairy flowers. They never fade or die, they are always just as you see them. But the colours of your flowers are all taken from them, as you have seen. Of course they don't look the same up there," he went on, with a slight contemptuous shrug22 of his cuckoo shoulders; "the coarse air and the ugly things about must take the bloom off. The wild flowers do the best, to my thinking; people don't meddle23 with them in their stupid, clumsy way."
"But how do they get the flowers sent up to the world, cuckoo?" asked Griselda.
"They're packed up, of course, and taken up at night when all of you are asleep," said the cuckoo. "They're painted on elastic24 stuff, you see, which fits itself as the plant grows. Why, if your eyes were as they are usually, Griselda, you couldn't even see the petals25 the butterflies are painting now."
"And the packing up," said Griselda; "do the butterflies do that too?"
"No," said the cuckoo, "the fairies look after that."
"How wonderful!" exclaimed Griselda. But before the cuckoo had time to say more a sudden tumult26 filled the air. It was butterfly dinner-time!
"Are you hungry, Griselda?" said the cuckoo.
"Not so very," replied Griselda.
"It's just as well perhaps that you're not," he remarked, "for I don't know that you'd be much the better for dinner here."
"Why not?" inquired Griselda curiously27. "What do they have for dinner? Honey? I like that very well, spread on the top of bread-and-butter, of course—I don't think I should care to eat it alone."
"You won't get any honey," the cuckoo was beginning; but he was interrupted. Two handsome butterflies flew into the great glass hall, and making straight for the cuckoo, alighted on his shoulders. They fluttered about him for a minute or two, evidently rather excited about something, then flew away again, as suddenly as they had appeared.
"Those were royal messengers," said the cuckoo, turning to Griselda. "They have come with a message from the king and queen to invite us to a banquet which is to be held in honour of your visit."
"What fun!" cried Griselda. "Do let's go at once, cuckoo. But, oh dear me," she went on, with a melancholy change of tone, "I was forgetting, cuckoo. I can't go to the banquet. I have nothing on but my night-gown. I never thought of it before, for I'm not a bit cold."
"Never mind," said the cuckoo, "I'll soon have that put to rights."
He flew off, and was back almost immediately, followed by a whole flock of butterflies. They were of a smaller kind than Griselda had hitherto seen, and they were of two colours only; half were blue, half yellow. They flew up to Griselda, who felt for a moment as if she were really going to be suffocated28 by them, but only for a moment. There seemed a great buzz and flutter about her, and then the butterflies set to work to dress her. And how do you think they dressed her? With themselves! They arranged themselves all over her in the cleverest way. One set of blue ones clustered round the hem4 of her little night-gown, making a thick "ruche," as it were; and then there came two or three thinner rows of yellow, and then blue again. Round her waist they made the loveliest belt of mingled30 blue and yellow, and all over the upper part of her night-gown, in and out among the pretty white frills which Dorcas herself "goffered," so nicely, they made themselves into fantastic trimmings of every shape and kind; bows, rosettes—I cannot tell you what they did not imitate.
Perhaps the prettiest ornament31 of all was the coronet or wreath they made of themselves for her head, dotting over her curly brown hair too with butterfly spangles, which quivered like dew-drops as she moved about. No one would have known Griselda; she looked like a fairy queen, or princess, at least, for even her little white feet had what looked like butterfly shoes upon them, though these, you will understand, were only a sort of make-believe, as, of course, the shoes were soleless.
"Now," said the cuckoo, when at last all was quiet again, and every blue and every yellow butterfly seemed settled in his place, "now, Griselda, come and look at yourself."
He led the way to a marble basin, into which fell the waters of one of the tinkling brooks32 that were to be found everywhere about the garden, and bade Griselda look into the water mirror. It danced about rather;
but still she was quite able to see herself. She peered in with great satisfaction, turning herself round so as to see first over one shoulder, then over the other.
"It is lovely," she said at last. "But, cuckoo, I'm just thinking—how shall I possibly be able to sit down without crushing ever so many?"
"Bless you, you needn't trouble about that," said the cuckoo; "the butterflies are quite able to take care of themselves. You don't suppose you are the first little girl they have ever made a dress for?"
Griselda said no more, but followed the cuckoo, walking rather "gingerly," notwithstanding his assurances that the butterflies could take care of themselves. At last the cuckoo stopped, in front of a sort of banked-up terrace, in the centre of which grew a strange-looking plant with large, smooth, spreading-out leaves, and on the two topmost leaves, their splendid wings glittering in the sunshine, sat two magnificent butterflies. They were many times larger than any Griselda had yet seen; in fact, the cuckoo himself looked rather small beside them, and they were so beautiful that Griselda felt quite over-awed. You could not have said what colour they were, for at the faintest movement they seemed to change into new colours, each more exquisite33 than the last. Perhaps I could best give you an idea of them by saying that they were like living rainbows.
"Are those the king and queen?" asked Griselda in a whisper.
"Yes," said the cuckoo. "Do you admire them?"
"I should rather think I did," said Griselda. "But, cuckoo, do they never do anything but lie there in the sunshine?"
"Oh, you silly girl," exclaimed the cuckoo, "always jumping at conclusions. No, indeed, that is not how they manage things in butterfly-land. The king and queen have worked harder than any other butterflies. They are chosen every now and then, out of all the others, as being the most industrious34 and the cleverest of all the world-flower-painters, and then they are allowed to rest, and are fed on the finest essences, so that they grow as splendid as you see. But even now they are not idle; they superintend all the work that is done, and choose all the new colours."
"Dear me!" said Griselda, under her breath, "how clever they must be."
Just then the butterfly king and queen stretched out their magnificent wings, and rose upwards35, soaring proudly into the air.
"Are they going away?" said Griselda in a disappointed tone.
"Oh no," said the cuckoo; "they are welcoming you. Hold out your hands."
Griselda held out her hands, and stood gazing up into the sky. In a minute or two the royal butterflies appeared again, slowly, majestically36 circling downwards37, till at length they alighted on Griselda's little hands, the king on the right, the queen on the left, almost covering her fingers with their great dazzling wings.
"You do look nice now," said the cuckoo, hopping38 back a few steps and looking up at Griselda approvingly; "but it's time for the feast to begin, as it won't do for us to be late."
The king and queen appeared to understand. They floated away from Griselda's hands and settled themselves, this time, at one end of a beautiful little grass plot or lawn, just below the terrace where grew the large-leaved plant. This was evidently their dining-room, for no sooner were they in their places than butterflies of every kind and colour came pouring in, in masses, from all directions. Butterflies small and butterflies large; butterflies light and butterflies dark; butterflies blue, pink, crimson, green, gold-colour—every colour, and far, far more colours than you could possibly imagine.
They all settled down, round the sides of the grassy39 dining-table, and in another minute a number of small white butterflies appeared, carrying among them flower petals carefully rolled up, each containing a drop of liquid. One of these was presented to the king, and then one to the queen, who each sniffed41 at their petal for an instant, and then passed it on to the butterfly next them, whereupon fresh petals were handed to them, which they again passed on.
"What are they doing, cuckoo?" said Griselda; "that's not eating."
"It's their kind of eating," he replied. "They don't require any other kind of food than a sniff40 of perfume; and as there are perfumes extracted from every flower in butterfly-land, and there are far more flowers than you could count between now and Christmas, you must allow there is plenty of variety of dishes."
"Um-m," said Griselda; "I suppose there is. But all the same, cuckoo, it's a very good thing I'm not hungry, isn't it? May I pour the scent42 on my pocket-handkerchief when it comes round to me? I have my handkerchief here, you see. Isn't it nice that I brought it? It was under my pillow, and I wrapped it round my hand to open the shutter43, for the hook scratched it once."
"You may pour one drop on your handkerchief," said the cuckoo, "but not more. I shouldn't like the butterflies to think you greedy."
But Griselda grew very tired of the scent feast long before all the petals had been passed round. The perfumes were very nice, certainly, but there were such quantities of them—double quantities in honour of the guest, of course! Griselda screwed up her handkerchief into a tight little ball, so that the one drop of scent should not escape from it, and then she kept sniffing44 at it impatiently, till at last the cuckoo asked her what was the matter.
"I am so tired of the feast," she said. "Do let us do something else, cuckoo."
"It is getting rather late," said the cuckoo. "But see, Griselda, they are going to have an air-dance now."
"What's that?" said Griselda.
"Look, and you'll see," he replied.
Flocks and flocks of butterflies were rising a short way into the air, and there arranging themselves in bands according to their colours.
"Come up to the bank," said the cuckoo to Griselda; "you'll see them better."
Griselda climbed up the bank, and as from there she could look down on the butterfly show, she saw it beautifully. The long strings45 of butterflies twisted in and out of each other in the most wonderful way, like ribbons of every hue46 plaiting themselves and then in an instant unplaiting themselves again. Then the king and queen placed themselves in the centre, and round and round in moving circles twisted and untwisted the brilliant bands of butterflies.
"It's like a kaleidoscope," said Griselda; "and now it's like those twisty-twirly dissolving views that papa took me to see once. It's just like them. Oh, how pretty! Cuckoo, are they doing it all on purpose to please me?"
"A good deal," said the cuckoo. "Stand up and clap your hands loud three times, to show them you're pleased."
Griselda obeyed. "Clap" number one—all the butterflies rose up into the air in a cloud; clap number two—they all fluttered and twirled and buzzed about, as if in the greatest excitement; clap number three—they all turned in Griselda's direction with a rush.
"They're going to kiss you, Griselda," cried the cuckoo.
Griselda felt her breath going. Up above her was the vast feathery cloud of butterflies, fluttering, rushing down upon her.
"Shut your eyes, and clap your hands loud, very loud," called out the cuckoo.
And just as Griselda clapped her hands, holding her precious handkerchief between her teeth, she heard him give his usual cry, "Cuckoo, cuckoo."
Clap—where were they all?
Griselda opened her eyes—garden, butterflies, cuckoo, all had disappeared. She was in bed, and Dorcas was knocking at the door with the hot water.
"Miss Grizzel said I was to wake you at your usual time this morning, missie," she said. "I hope you don't feel too tired to get up."
"Tired! I should think not," replied Griselda. "I was awake this morning ages before you, I can tell you, my dear Dorcas. Come here for a minute, Dorcas, please," she went on. "There now, sniff my handkerchief. What do you think of that?"
"It's beautiful," said Dorcas. "It's out of the big blue chinay bottle on your auntie's table, isn't it, missie?"
"Stuff and nonsense," replied Griselda; "it's scent of my own, Dorcas. Aunt Grizzel never had any like it in her life. There now! Please give me my slippers47, I want to get up and look over my lessons for Mr. Kneebreeches before he comes. Dear me," she added to herself, as she was putting on her slippers, "how pretty my feet did look with the blue butterfly shoes! It was very good of the cuckoo to take me there, but I don't think I shall ever wish to be a butterfly again, now I know how hard they work! But I'd like to do my lessons well to-day. I fancy it'll please the dear old cuckoo."
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
velvety
|
|
| adj. 像天鹅绒的, 轻软光滑的, 柔软的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
brook
|
|
| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
tinkling
|
|
| n.丁当作响声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
hem
|
|
| n.贴边，镶边；vt.缝贴边；(in)包围，限制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
uncommon
|
|
| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
kindly
|
|
| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
allusions
|
|
| 暗指，间接提到( allusion的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
nibbling
|
|
| v.啃，一点一点地咬（吃）( nibble的现在分词 )；啃出（洞），一点一点咬出（洞）；慢慢减少；小口咬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
gathering
|
|
| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
crimson
|
|
| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
tinge
|
|
| vt.(较淡)着色于，染色；使带有…气息；n.淡淡色彩，些微的气息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
tint
|
|
| n.淡色，浅色；染发剂；vt.着以淡淡的颜色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
relishing
|
|
| v.欣赏( relish的现在分词 )；从…获得乐趣；渴望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
alleys
|
|
| 胡同，小巷( alley的名词复数 )； 小径 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
nibbled
|
|
| v.啃，一点一点地咬（吃）( nibble的过去式和过去分词 )；啃出（洞），一点一点咬出（洞）；慢慢减少；小口咬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
maize
|
|
| n.玉米 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
melancholy
|
|
| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
incessantly
|
|
| ad.不停地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
spoke
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
tentacles
|
|
| n.触手( tentacle的名词复数 )；触角；触须；触毛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
petal
|
|
| n.花瓣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
shrug
|
|
| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
meddle
|
|
| v.干预，干涉，插手 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
elastic
|
|
| n.橡皮圈，松紧带；adj.有弹性的；灵活的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
petals
|
|
| n.花瓣( petal的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
tumult
|
|
| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
curiously
|
|
| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
suffocated
|
|
| （使某人）窒息而死( suffocate的过去式和过去分词 )； （将某人）闷死； 让人感觉闷热； 憋气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
suffocate
|
|
| vt.使窒息，使缺氧，阻碍；vi.窒息，窒息而亡，阻碍发展 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
mingled
|
|
| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
ornament
|
|
| v.装饰，美化；n.装饰，装饰物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
brooks
|
|
| n.小溪( brook的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
exquisite
|
|
| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
industrious
|
|
| adj.勤劳的，刻苦的，奋发的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
upwards
|
|
| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
majestically
|
|
| 雄伟地； 庄重地； 威严地； 崇高地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
downwards
|
|
| adj./adv.向下的（地），下行的（地） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
hopping
|
|
| n. 跳跃 动词hop的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
grassy
|
|
| adj.盖满草的；长满草的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
sniff
|
|
| vi.嗅…味道；抽鼻涕；对嗤之以鼻，蔑视 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
sniffed
|
|
| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
scent
|
|
| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
shutter
|
|
| n.百叶窗；(照相机)快门；关闭装置 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
sniffing
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
strings
|
|
| n.弦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
hue
|
|
| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
slippers
|
|
| n. 拖鞋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |