She went straight to the bed, and taking Rosamond in her arms, sat down with her by the fire.
“My poor child!” she said. “Two terrible failures! And the more the harder! They get stronger and stronger. What is to be done?”
“Couldn’t you help me?” said Rosamond piteously.
“Perhaps I could, now you ask me,” answered the wise woman. “When you are ready to try again, we shall see.”
“I am very tired of myself,” said the princess. “But I can’t rest till I try again.”
“That is the only way to get rid of your weary, shadowy self, and find your strong, true self. Come, my child; I will help you all I can, for now I can help you.”
Yet again she led her to the same door, and seemed to the princess to send her yet again alone into the room. She was in a forest, a place half wild, half tended. The trees were grand, and full of the loveliest birds, of all glowing gleaming and radiant colors, which, unlike the brilliant birds we know in our world, sang deliciously, every one according to his color. The trees were not at all crowded, but their leaves were so thick, and their boughs1 spread so far, that it was only here and there a sunbeam could get straight through. All the gentle creatures of a forest were there, but no creatures that killed, not even a weasel to kill the rabbits, or a beetle2 to eat the snails3 out of their striped shells. As to the butterflies, words would but wrong them if they tried to tell how gorgeous they were. The princess’s delight was so great that she neither laughed nor ran, but walked about with a solemn countenance4 and stately step.
“But where are the flowers?” she said to herself at length.
They were nowhere. Neither on the high trees, nor on the few shrubs5 that grew here and there amongst them, were there any blossoms; and in the grass that grew everywhere there was not a single flower to be seen.
“Ah, well!” said Rosamond again to herself, “where all the birds and butterflies are living flowers, we can do without the other sort.”
Still she could not help feeling that flowers were wanted to make the beauty of the forest complete.
Suddenly she came out on a little open glade6; and there, on the root of a great oak, sat the loveliest little girl, with her lap full of flowers of all colors, but of such kinds as Rosamond had never before seen. She was playing with them—burying her hands in them, tumbling them about, and every now and then picking one from the rest, and throwing it away. All the time she never smiled, except with her eyes, which were as full as they could hold of the laughter of the spirit—a laughter which in this world is never heard, only sets the eyes alight with a liquid shining. Rosamond drew nearer, for the wonderful creature would have drawn7 a tiger to her side, and tamed him on the way. A few yards from her, she came upon one of her cast-away flowers and stooped to pick it up, as well she might where none grew save in her own longing8. But to her amazement9 she found, instead of a flower thrown away to wither10, one fast rooted and quite at home. She left it, and went to another; but it also was fast in the soil, and growing comfortably in the warm grass. What could it mean? One after another she tried, until at length she was satisfied that it was the same with every flower the little girl threw from her lap.
She watched then until she saw her throw one, and instantly bounded to the spot. But the flower had been quicker than she: there it grew, fast fixed11 in the earth, and, she thought, looked at her roguishly. Something evil moved in her, and she plucked it.
“Don’t! don’t!” cried the child. “My flowers cannot live in your hands.”
Rosamond looked at the flower. It was withered12 already. She threw it from her, offended. The child rose, with difficulty keeping her lapful together, picked it up, carried it back, sat down again, spoke13 to it, kissed it, sang to it—oh! such a sweet, childish little song!—the princess never could recall a word of it—and threw it away. Up rose its little head, and there it was, busy growing again!
Rosamond’s bad temper soon gave way: the beauty and sweetness of the child had overcome it; and, anxious to make friends with her, she drew near, and said:
“Won’t you give me a little flower, please, you beautiful child?”
“There they are; they are all for you,” answered the child, pointing with her outstretched arm and forefinger14 all round.
“But you told me, a minute ago, not to touch them.”
“Yes, indeed, I did.”
“They can’t be mine, if I’m not to touch them.”
“If, to call them yours, you must kill them, then they are not yours, and never, never can be yours. They are nobody’s when they are dead.”
“But you don’t kill them.”
“I don’t pull them; I throw them away. I live them.”
“How is it that you make them grow?”
“I say, ‘You darling!’ and throw it away and there it is.”
“Where do you get them?”
“In my lap.”
“I wish you would let me throw one away.”
“Have you got any in your lap? Let me see.”
“No; I have none.”
“Then you can’t throw one away, if you haven’t got one.”
“You are mocking me!” cried the princess.
“I am not mocking you,” said the child, looking her full in the face, with reproach in her large blue eyes.
“Oh, that’s where the flowers come from!” said the princess to herself, the moment she saw them, hardly knowing what she meant.
Then the child rose as if hurt, and quickly threw away all the flowers she had in her lap, but one by one, and without any sign of anger. When they were all gone, she stood a moment, and then, in a kind of chanting cry, called, two or three times, “Peggy! Peggy! Peggy!”
A low, glad cry, like the whinny of a horse, answered, and, presently, out of the wood on the opposite side of the glade, came gently trotting16 the loveliest little snow-white pony17, with great shining blue wings, half-lifted from his shoulders. Straight towards the little girl, neither hurrying nor lingering, he trotted18 with light elastic19 tread.
Rosamond’s love for animals broke into a perfect passion of delight at the vision. She rushed to meet the pony with such haste, that, although clearly the best trained animal under the sun, he started back, plunged20, reared, and struck out with his fore-feet ere he had time to observe what sort of a creature it was that had so startled him. When he perceived it was a little girl, he dropped instantly upon all fours, and content with avoiding her, resumed his quiet trot15 in the direction of his mistress. Rosamond stood gazing after him in miserable21 disappointment.
When he reached the child, he laid his head on her shoulder, and she put her arm up round his neck; and after she had talked to him a little, he turned and came trotting back to the princess.
Almost beside herself with joy, she began caressing22 him in the rough way which, not-withstanding her love for them, she was in the habit of using with animals; and she was not gentle enough, in herself even, to see that he did not like it, and was only putting up with it for the sake of his mistress. But when, that she might jump upon his back, she laid hold of one of his wings, and ruffled23 some of the blue feathers, he wheeled suddenly about, gave his long tail a sharp whisk which threw her flat on the grass, and, trotting back to his mistress, bent24 down his head before her as if asking excuse for ridding himself of the unbearable25.
The princess was furious. She had forgotten all her past life up to the time when she first saw the child: her beauty had made her forget, and yet she was now on the very borders of hating her. What she might have done, or rather tried to do, had not Peggy’s tail struck her down with such force that for a moment she could not rise, I cannot tell.
But while she lay half-stunned, her eyes fell on a little flower just under them. It stared up in her face like the living thing it was, and she could not take her eyes off its face. It was like a primrose26 trying to express doubt instead of confidence. It seemed to put her half in mind of something, and she felt as if shame were coming. She put out her hand to pluck it; but the moment her fingers touched it, the flower withered up, and hung as dead on its stalks as if a flame of fire had passed over it.
Then a shudder27 thrilled through the heart of the princess, and she thought with herself, saying—“What sort of a creature am I that the flowers wither when I touch them, and the ponies28 despise me with their tails? What a wretched, coarse, ill-bred creature I must be! There is that lovely child giving life instead of death to the flowers, and a moment ago I was hating her! I am made horrid30, and I shall be horrid, and I hate myself, and yet I can’t help being myself!”
She heard the sound of galloping31 feet, and there was the pony, with the child seated betwixt his wings, coming straight on at full speed for where she lay.
“I don’t care,” she said. “They may trample32 me under their feet if they like. I am tired and sick of myself—a creature at whose touch the flowers wither!”
On came the winged pony. But while yet some distance off, he gave a great bound, spread out his living sails of blue, rose yards and yards above her in the air, and alighted as gently as a bird, just a few feet on the other side of her. The child slipped down and came and kneeled over her.
“Did my pony hurt you?” she said. “I am so sorry!”
“Yes, he hurt me,” answered the princess, “but not more than I deserved, for I took liberties with him, and he did not like it.”
“Oh, you dear!” said the little girl. “I love you for talking so of my Peggy. He is a good pony, though a little playful sometimes. Would you like a ride upon him?”
“You darling beauty!” cried Rosamond, sobbing33. “I do love you so, you are so good. How did you become so sweet?”
“Would you like to ride my pony?” repeated the child, with a heavenly smile in her eyes.
“No, no; he is fit only for you. My clumsy body would hurt him,” said Rosamond.
“You don’t mind me having such a pony?” said the child.
“What! mind it?” cried Rosamond, almost indignantly. Then remembering certain thoughts that had but a few moments before passed through her mind, she looked on the ground and was silent.
“You don’t mind it, then?” repeated the child.
“I am very glad there is such a you and such a pony, and that such a you has got such a pony,” said Rosamond, still looking on the ground. “But I do wish the flowers would not die when I touch them. I was cross to see you make them grow, but now I should be content if only I did not make them wither.”
As she spoke, she stroked the little girl’s bare feet, which were by her, half buried in the soft moss34, and as she ended she laid her cheek on them and kissed them.
“Dear princess!” said the little girl, “the flowers will not always wither at your touch. Try now—only do not pluck it. Flowers ought never to be plucked except to give away. Touch it gently.”
A silvery flower, something like a snow-drop, grew just within her reach. Timidly she stretched out her hand and touched it. The flower trembled, but neither shrank nor withered.
“Touch it again,” said the child.
It changed color a little, and Rosamond fancied it grew larger.
“Touch it again,” said the child.
It opened and grew until it was as large as a narcissus, and changed and deepened in color till it was a red glowing gold.
Rosamond gazed motionless. When the transfiguration of the flower was perfected, she sprang to her feet with clasped hands, but for very ecstasy35 of joy stood speechless, gazing at the child.
“Did you never see me before, Rosamond?” she asked.
“No, never,” answered the princess. “I never saw any thing half so lovely.”
“Look at me,” said the child.
And as Rosamond looked, the child began, like the flower, to grow larger. Quickly through every gradation of growth she passed, until she stood before her a woman perfectly36 beautiful, neither old nor young; for hers was the old age of everlasting37 youth.
Rosamond was utterly38 enchanted39, and stood gazing without word or movement until she could endure no more delight. Then her mind collapsed40 to the thought—had the pony grown too? She glanced round. There was no pony, no grass, no flowers, no bright-birded forest—but the cottage of the wise woman—and before her, on the hearth41 of it, the goddess-child, the only thing unchanged.
“You must set out for your father’s palace immediately,” said the lady.
“But where is the wise woman?” asked Rosamond, looking all about.
“Here,” said the lady.
And Rosamond, looking again, saw the wise woman, folded as usual in her long dark cloak.
“And it was you all the time?” she cried in delight, and kneeled before her, burying her face in her garments.
“It always is me, all the time,” said the wise woman, smiling.
“But which is the real you?” asked Rosamond; “this or that?”
“Or a thousand others?” returned the wise woman. “But the one you have just seen is the likest to the real me that you are able to see just yet—but—. And that me you could not have seen a little while ago.—But, my darling child,” she went on, lifting her up and clasping her to her bosom44, “you must not think, because you have seen me once, that therefore you are capable of seeing me at all times. No; there are many things in you yet that must be changed before that can be. Now, however, you will seek me. Every time you feel you want me, that is a sign I am wanting you. There are yet many rooms in my house you may have to go through; but when you need no more of them, then you will be able to throw flowers like the little girl you saw in the forest.”
The princess gave a sigh.
“Do not think,” the wise woman went on, “that the things you have seen in my house are mere45 empty shows. You do not know, you cannot yet think, how living and true they are.—Now you must go.”
She led her once more into the great hall, and there showed her the picture of her father’s capital, and his palace with the brazen46 gates.
“There is your home,” she said. “Go to it.”
The princess understood, and a flush of shame rose to her forehead. She turned to the wise woman and said:
“Will you forgive all my naughtiness, and all the trouble I have given you?”
“If I had not forgiven you, I would never have taken the trouble to punish you. If I had not loved you, do you think I would have carried you away in my cloak?”
“I saw, through it all, what you were going to be,” said the wise woman, kissing her. “But remember you have yet only begun to be what I saw.”
“I will try to remember,” said the princess, holding her cloak, and looking up in her face.
“Go, then,” said the wise woman.
Rosamond turned away on the instant, ran to the picture, stepped over the frame of it, heard a door close gently, gave one glance back, saw behind her the loveliest palace-front of alabaster47, gleaming in the pale-yellow light of an early summer-morning, looked again to the eastward48, saw the faint outline of her father’s city against the sky, and ran off to reach it.
It looked much further off now than when it seemed a picture, but the sun was not yet up, and she had the whole of a summer day before her.
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1
boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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beetle
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| n.甲虫，近视眼的人 | |
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snails
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| n.蜗牛；迟钝的人；蜗牛( snail的名词复数 ) | |
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4
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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shrubs
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| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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6
glade
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| n.林间空地，一片表面有草的沼泽低地 | |
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7
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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8
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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10
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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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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12
withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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13
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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14
forefinger
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| n.食指 | |
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15
trot
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| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
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16
trotting
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| 小跑，急走( trot的现在分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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17
pony
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| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
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18
trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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elastic
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| n.橡皮圈，松紧带；adj.有弹性的；灵活的 | |
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plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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21
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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caressing
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| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
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23
ruffled
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| adj. 有褶饰边的, 起皱的 动词ruffle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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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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25
unbearable
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| adj.不能容忍的；忍受不住的 | |
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26
primrose
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| n.樱草，最佳部分， | |
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shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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28
ponies
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| 矮种马，小型马( pony的名词复数 )； ￡25 25 英镑 | |
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29
wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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31
galloping
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| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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32
trample
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| vt.踩，践踏；无视，伤害，侵犯 | |
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33
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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moss
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| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
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ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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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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everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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39
enchanted
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| adj. 被施魔法的，陶醉的，入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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40
collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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41
hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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42
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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43
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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44
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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45
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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46
brazen
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| adj.厚脸皮的，无耻的，坚硬的 | |
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47
alabaster
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| adj.雪白的；n.雪花石膏；条纹大理石 | |
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48
eastward
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| adv.向东；adj.向东的；n.东方，东部 | |
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