安徒生童话: 树精

日期:2019-11-02编辑作者:儿童读物

  我们去时尚之都参观,去看博览会①。   今后大家在这里边了!这是三次飞跃的远足,就像意气风发阵风似地,但完全不是凭什么法力,我们是借助水陆蒸汽交通工具去的。   我们的不常是童话通常的一代。   大家在法国巴黎市中央,在一家大饭店里。楼梯一贯到顶部都摆放着鲜花,楼梯上还都铺着地毯。   我们的房子很舒心。阳台的门朝一个大广场开着。那儿居住着青春,它是和大家还要跻身法国首都的。它的外表是大器晚成棵大栗子树,上面长满了新开放的嫩叶;比起广场上别的的大树来,它的那套春季的华装是何等美好啊!那个树中有一棵已经不再列入活树的队列了。它躺在这里,是被连根拔起甩在地上的。在它原先生长之处,那棵清新的板栗树将被裁进去②。   今后,它还高高地竖在前几日早晨把它运出法国巴黎来的这辆自行车上,那车是从许多里地之外,从村庄把它运来的。那棵树紧靠着一块大草坪立了相当多年了,树下日常坐着一位老牧师,讲故事给这些专心致志的儿女们听。那青春的栗子树也随之听。住在里头的树精——要精通那时她依旧四个孩子吧,她能想起起那棵树小的时候的情形。它出土时还比不上草叶和蕨秆高。那几个草当时已经无法再长了,可是树每年每度都在发育,越来越高。它接收着空气和日光,获得好处的润滑,被强大的风吹打,推来搡去,这对它是至关重大的,是对它教育的一片段。   树精很兴奋自个儿的生活和意况,喜欢阳光和鸟类的表扬,然则他最爱怜的是全人类的响声。她能像听懂鸟兽的语言同样听懂人的语言。   蝴蝶、蜻蜓和苍蝇,是的,一切会飞的事物都来拜会她。他们要拉拉扯扯闲聊;讲城市,讲蒲陶园、树林、古老的宫堡和宫堡里的公园里的气象。花园里还会有人工河和堤坝,水里有生物,这几个生物会用本身的法子从生龙活虎处飞向另风流罗曼蒂克处,是有智能、有观念的浮游生物;它们怎么样也不会说,但正是这么明白。还或者有曾经钻进水里去的燕子。他们谈谈拢看的金朝鱼,肥鲫、胖鲈和一身长了青苔的老拐子。燕子维妙维肖地汇报着他俩,然而她说,照旧切身去拜访越来越好有的。可是树精哪能看到这几个生物!她只得知足于看前边的美观景象和感受一下人类的繁重活动罢了。   那是美好的,但最美好的事却是听老牧师坐在橡树下讲法兰西、讲那个流芳百世的先生女人的壮举。   树精倾听着牧羊姑娘贞德③和夏洛蒂·科戴依④的史事。她听着她讲上古时代、Henley四世和拿破伦风流倜傥世的时代,从来到大家以那个时候期的完结和高大的事迹。她听着无数在国民的心扉引起共识的真名。法兰西共和国是享有世界意义的国家,是一块作育自由精气神儿的才智的高产田!   村里的男女们注意地听着,树精全神贯注的水平一点也不亚于他们;她和别的的男女同大器晚成,是小学子。她能在天上移动的浮云中看出她听到的东西的切切实实形象。   云天是她的图集。   在美观的法国国度里她以为到超甜美。可是他仍然有风华正茂种以为,以为鸟儿和其他会飞的动物昆虫都比他的身份要高。连苍蝇都能随处瞻望,比树精的耳目远得多。   法兰西共和国是那么地质大学,那么雅观,然而她只得看到它的一小部分儿。这些国度像个大世界,草龙珠园、树林和大城市向所在展开。全数那么些中级,法国巴黎是最美丽、最雄壮的。鸟儿能够达到那边,不过他却永世不能够。   在山乡的男女子中学有三个少女,她残破不堪,但姿容很雅观。她三番五次在唱在笑,往团结的黑发上插红花。   “别去法国首都!”老牧师说道。“可怜的孩子!你借使去了法国巴黎,你会遭灾的!”   但是她一意孤行去了。   树通晓常想着她。你了然,她们三个都对那伟大的都城有同样的兴味,近似钦慕。   春季、夏季、秋天、冬季逐一一命呜呼了;五年过去了。树精所在的那棵树第贰回开了栗子花,鸟儿在日光下在围着它歌唱。那时候大路上来了豆蔻梢头辆华丽的车子,车上坐着壹人高雅的巾帼,她亲身开车着那几匹美观的快马;一个穿着能够的小马车夫坐在前边。树精认出那位妇女,老牧师也认出了她,他摇着头,哀伤地协商:   “你到那边去了!你要遭灾的,可怜的玛莉⑤!”   “她,可怜?”树精想道,“不,多大的扭转啊!她的穿着打扮差非常的少像公爵内人了!她去了奇幻都市。啊,要是本身能到那灿烂华丽的都市去多好!当本身朝着自己领会的大多会的自由化望去的时候,那里就连夜里也都闪耀,一贯亮到云端。”是的,树精天天黄昏,每日夜晚都朝这一个样子望去。她的视界中是一片明亮的雾气。在月光明媚的夜幕他怀想它,她缅想那一个为他显得图景和传说的浮云。   孩子们翻看他俩的图册,树精瞅着云的世界,那是他的想想之书。   伏暑的夏天,无云的苍穹对她是空荡荡的生机勃勃页。今后有个别天了,她只得见到如此一片空白。   在炎暑的夏季,天天烈日当空,一点风都不曾。每片叶子,每大器晚成朵花都黯然泪下地昏睡,人也这么。   接着云块现身了,晚上晓得的雾气在晋升:这里是法国首都。云升了四起,形状像连绵的深山,它们飞驰着超越天空,扩散到天际,一贯到树精看不到的地点。   云朵在满三月犹如藏浅莲灰的巨石,风流洒脱层意气风发层叠在一齐。电光从云朵间射出,“它们也是上帝的奴婢。”老牧师那样说过。大器晚成道浅豆沙色打雷,亮得像太阳,从石头平常的阴云中跃出,落了下去,把那棵高大的老橡树连根劈为两半;树冠被劈开了,树干被劈开了。它倒伏到了地上,摊了开来,好似要拥抱光的大使同样。   王子诞生时响彻天空、响彻全国的爆竹声,也不比那老橡树被击倒时的响声。大雨倾盆而下,风姿罗曼蒂克阵清洁的风吹了还原。风暴雨过去了,四周三片欢畅的节日景像。城里的人都凑合到倒下的老橡树的方圆;老牧师说着赞叹它的话,一位音乐家亲笔画下了那棵树,留作回顾。   “一切都鱼沉雁杳了!”树精说道,“消亡了,像浮云同样,再不回来了!”   老牧师再也不来了;高校的校舍坍塌了,老师的桌子不见了,孩子们也不来了。然则初秋来了,冬辰来了,当然春日也来了。在这里些高潮迭起退换的小日子里,树精总望着非常样子,各样黄昏和晚间,在此遥远的地点,巴黎都明白得像耀眼的雾气。火车头二个随后一个,拉着一列又一列的车厢从那边驶了出来,每时每刻都在巨响着,轰隆轰隆地奔去。每一个黄昏、晚间、深夜以致白天列车都开车过来,从世界外市开来。每便车上都挤满了人,贰个新的世界奇迹把她们召唤到香水之都。那奇迹是怎么样表现出来的吧?   “风度翩翩朵艺术和工业的柳宠花迷之花”,他们那样说,“在马尔斯广场的野地上绽揭示来了,像意气风发朵宏大的太阳花⑥。从它的花瓣上民众得以学学到地理、计算的学识,可以学到工艺术师范高校傅们的手艺,进步措施和诗的素质,认知各个国家的面积和成功。”——“生龙活虎朵童话之花,”别的一些人斟酌。“后生可畏朵鲜艳多彩的中国莲。它把团结的绿叶铺在土地上,像一块丝绒地毯,在开春的时节盛放。清夏大家能够赏识它全盛时代的美;金秋的风的口浪的尖会把它刮走,连叶和根都不留。”   在“军事学校”的外部,伸展着一片和日常期的战场;一块未有草的三角洲,是从欧洲的大戈壁这里割来的。在这莫甘娜仙女体现他傻眼的一纸空文和空中花园。马尔斯广场的楼阁和花园却更是壮丽、特别奇异。因为通过能愚笨匠的本领,幻景都曾经形成了实际。   “今世的阿拉丁之宫辈出了!”传来了那样的声音。每过一天,每过一刻,它显现出更加多的雕梁画栋。无穷尽的会客室用丹东石建成了,生机勃勃间间云蒸霞蔚。“无血的师父”⑦在圈子机械大厅里摇曳着它的皮肤。金属制成的,石雕的和纺织成的工艺品突显了整个世界各州的精气神风貌。造型艺术厅如花似玉,大家用小聪明和双臂在工艺术师范高校的碾磨厂中能生产的万事事物都在那处展览了。就连武周宫内和泥炭沼泽的遗留物,也都在此边露面了。   那些庞大的、花团锦簇的景点必得微缩成为玩具那样大小,以便能在别的地点显得,让大家领悟和观看它的全貌。马尔斯广场就好像庞大的圣诞宴席桌,上边摆着工业和艺术的阿拉丁皇城。在它的方圆陈列着来自各个国家的物料,引以为骄傲的物料:每一种民族都有思念自个儿国家的事物。   那儿有埃及(The Arab Republic of Egypt)的宫廷,有沙漠国家的长列商队;游牧的贝督因人⑧从太阳之国而来,骑在骆驼上匆匆而过;这里有叁个个俄国马厩,里面养着性情刚强的草地骏马;挂着丹麦王国国旗的丹麦王国草顶农舍和瑞典王国Gustav·瓦萨时代河谷地区美丽的木雕房屋紧靠在一起;美利坚合众国的牧舍,英帝国的村落办小学屋,法兰西共和国的亭台、小店、教堂和歌舞剧院都好奇地排列在一同。此中间有葡萄紫的草地、清亮的湍流、鲜花盛开的松木丛、珍奇树木和玻璃温室。在这里间您不禁感觉温馨到了热带丛林,从马拉西亚士革运来的大片的玫瑰园在屋顶下盛放着花朵。多么艳丽,多么川白芷!   人工造的钟乳玉窦里有淡水湖和咸水湖,体现了鱼的帝国;大家站在海底,投身在鱼和水螅之间。   他们说,马尔斯广场上列项支出着那总体。在这里个丰硕的宴席桌左近,人群像蚂蚁似地挤在少年老成道,拉拉扯扯;有的步行,有的乘坐小马车,全部人的腿都支撑不了如此疲劳的参观。从深夜到夜幕低垂,人们不断地拥向那里。载满了人的汽船风流倜傥艘又风度翩翩艘地驶过塞纳河,车子的数码在不停地充实。步行和乘车的人越来越多,有轨车和集体马车的里面挤满了人。全部的人都在朝五个对象汇聚:法国巴黎交易会!全数的入口处都挂着法兰西共和国的国旗,各个国家展室的外面则悬挂着各自的国旗。机器厅里机器发出轰鸣声;教堂钟楼的钟奏着音乐,教堂里传开了风琴声;粗犷、沙哑的歌声混在一块从东方国家的咖啡吧里传播。那就象是是贰个巴别的国度⑨,巴别的言语,三个社会风气奇迹。   看来的确如此,关于交易会的广播发表就是那般说的,哪个人没有听到过?树精知道一切关于城市中之城市的“新神蹟”。“飞啊,你们那个鸟类!飞到那边去探问,再回去讲讲!”这是树精的伸手。   这种敬慕变为愿望,成为生命的期盼——于是在平静、寂静的晚间,当圆圆的明亮的月正闪耀着明亮的光时,树精看到从明亮的月里飞出意气风发颗木星,它往下坠落,就好像黄金年代颗流星那样领悟。树叶好像被风流浪漫阵烈风吹动似地抖起来,树的前头现身了叁个接头的躯壳。它用后生可畏种温柔但不言自明如人类末日降临的巴松管的响声说话,唤醒生命,召唤去领受裁定。   “你将到那些魔术般的都城去,你将要那生根,去体会那里呢喃软语的湍流、空气和日光。不过你的寿命将会减少,在这里个袒裼裸裎的圈子里能享受的寿命将收缩成几年。可怜的树精,那将是你的劫数!你的远瞻将增进,你的追求、你的热望会更为生硬!树将变为你的地牢。你将偏离你的住地,脱离你的特性,飞了出去,和人类在风姿罗曼蒂克道。于是你的人命便会缩短到只有蜉蝣生命的二分一,唯有短短的意气风发夜。你的生命要破灭,树叶枯萎脱落,再也不会回来。”   那声音在空中那样说,那样唱。光亮消亡,可是树精的期盼和远瞻未有未有。她在渴望中颤抖,像发高烧。   “小编要去城中之城!”她兴奋地喊道。“生命起头了,像云同样膨胀,哪个人也不领会它会飞向何方。”   黎明先生时分,月光淡下去,彤云升起。愿望完成的时候来了,允诺的语言改为了实际。   来了部分手拿铁锹和棍棒的人。他们围着树根挖,挖得很深,一向挖到根底下。又来了意气风发辆马车,那树连根带土一同被挖了出去,被芦蓆包上,几乎是三个保暖袋;然后它被搬到车的里面,捆得超级壮,它将被运走,运出法国首都去,在法兰西的自负的京城——城中之城生长生活。   在自行车运维的一霎那,栗子树的叶子颤抖起来,树精在期望的甜美中颤抖起来。   “走了!走了!”那声音随着每一遍脉搏跳动响着。“走了!走了!”那声音震荡着、颤抖着。树精忘记对她家门的绿地说后会有期,忘记向摇动着的小草和天真的春黄菊道别;它们平素把她爱惜为上帝的花园⑩中的一人老婆人,一位在科学普及自由的领域里装扮成牧羊女的青春公主。   栗子树坐在车里,它用叶子点头表示,“好好过日子”可能“再见”。树精不亮堂那一个,她只是期望着前面将展现出来的这个奇怪新鲜而又不行熟练的东西。未有别的生机勃勃颗充满天真欢快的孩子的心,未有别的大器晚成滴沸腾的血液会像他去法国巴黎游历时那么匪夷所思了。   “好好生活!”形成“走了!走了!”   车轮转着,远处变近了,落在前边。眼下的光景在变,像云块变幻。埃里温葫芦园、树林、城镇、豪宅和园林现身了,来到最近,又未有了。栗子树向前去,树精随着它前去。风姿洒脱辆接风流倜傥辆的列车疾驶而过或相对开过去。高铁吐着的暮霭形成各样形状。这几个形象在描述高铁从何地开、树精要去巴黎。相近的漫天知道、也相应精通她是要去何地的。她感到,她经过的每风度翩翩棵树都向他伸出枝子,央浼着:“把自家带上吧!带上小编啊!”你明白,每棵树里都住着三个满载期盼的树精呢。多大的扭转哟!Benz得多么神速哟!屋企好疑似从土里冒出来肖似,愈来愈多,更加的密。钢烟囱像相当多花盆,风华正茂座挨着生机勃勃座,在屋顶上排成一排。由庞大的假名拼写成的字、五颜六色形状的图,从墙角平昔画到屋檐上边,正闪闪夺目。“什么地点是法国巴黎的伊始?小编曾几何时才算到了法国首都?”树精问自身。人群越挤越大,车子风流洒脱辆接着生龙活虎辆,步行的人和骑马的人挤介怀气风发道;铺子挨着集团;随地是音乐声、歌声、呼噪声、说话声。   树精坐在她的树中到了法国首都的骨干。   那辆沉重的大车在一个小广场上停下来。广场上种着树,周边有一成千上万高屋企,每扇窗户都有二个平台。大家站在此往下看那棵被运来的独特年轻的栗子树,它将栽在这地,代替那棵倒在地上的、被连根拔起的死树。站在广场上的大家微笑着,欢腾地看着那仲春的鹅黄。那个刚刚吐出芽的老树,枝子沙沙作响,表示着“迎接!招待!”喷泉将水柱喷到空间,又溅到宽敞的池塘里,让风儿把水珠吹到新的树上,请它喝款待之水。   树精感到,她居住的那棵树被人从车里抬起,栽在它未来的职位上。树根被埋进土里,上面植上了异样的绿草。开着花的乔木像树同样地被种在这里边,还搬来了盆花。广场的主导产生了一个小公园。那棵被煤气、炊烟以至各样令植物窒息的城市空气薰死的被连根拔起的老树被拉上了车,运走了。拥挤的大家看来着,绿荫下孩子和前辈坐在木凳上,看着新栽的菜叶。而大家那一个讲传说的人,则站在阳台上往下瞧着这棵从清新的小村运来的后生的树,像那位老牧师这样说着:“可怜的树精!”   “笔者是何其幸福啊,多么幸福呀!”树精说道,“可是我却不太清楚、不太能表达本人的觉获得。一切都像小编想的那么,却又不完全像自身想的那么!”   四周的屋宇太高,靠得太近;太阳只可以照到一面墙上,而那墙又被广告和招贴贴满。人们在那里站定,形成了堵塞。车子风姿浪漫辆辆驶过,有的轻快,有的沉重;公共马车满载着人,像生机勃勃幢幢活动房屋,急忙地跑着;骑马的人奔驰向前,运货汽车和游历车也需要生龙活虎律的任务。树精想,这几个紧挨着的突兀的房舍可以还是不可以挪开成为天上的浮云那样的形态,移到生机勃勃旁去,好让他望一眼法国巴黎和望过巴黎之外的地点。圣母院⑾得露后生可畏蜚声,还会有汶多姆圆柱⑿以至那个迷惑了好多别人来参观的一时。   不过,屋企未有让开。   天还不曾黑下来,灯已引燃了;商城里的煤气灯的亮光射了出来,树枝间射出亮光;就好像夏天的日光。天上现身了一定量,和树精在故里见到的星星落落相似;她深感一股清爽新鲜的空气吹来。她认为温馨获得了增加补充,精力旺盛起来,感觉到每片树叶都得到了精力,连树根的最高档的地点也会有了以为。她感到温馨生活于那几个活跃的人的社会风气里,被温柔的眼睛诚心诚意着。她的方圆是生机勃勃阵喧哗声,音乐、颜色和光荣。   从一旁的街巷里传开了管乐器和手风琴演奏的中国风。是啊,跳舞吧!跳舞吧!买笑追欢吧,音乐这么呼唤着。   那是人、马、车子、树和屋企该跟着跳舞的音乐,若是它们能够跳舞的话;树精胸中涌起生机勃勃阵令人神魂颠倒的高兴。“多么幸福呀,多么美好啊!”她欢呼着。“小编到达香水之都了!”接下去的一天,新的夜幕和随之来到的日夜,带来同样的风貌、同样的位移、同样的生活,循环着但却连连贰个范例。   “未来自家认知广场里的每意气风发棵树和每风流罗曼蒂克朵花了!笔者认知了此处的每生龙活虎幢房屋、每一种平台和集团。小编怎么被交待在如此八个封堵的牵制里,一点儿也看不到这宏伟的大都市。凯旋门、大道和社会风气奇迹都在什么样地点?这个东西怎么作者三个都并未有看到?小编站在此些高堂大厦中间就疑似站在笼子中。这个高耸的楼房墙上的字、招贴、品牌,现在自家都足以背出来了,还恐怕有那第一次全国代表大会堆不再合作者口味的食品,然而小编据说过的,知道的,爱慕的、我为之而来的那所有的事物却又在哪些地点吧?作者有所、获得和意识了些什么吗!笔者依旧和今后黄金时代致渴瞧着,作者觉获得了生机勃勃种生存,小编必需把握它,必得过那样的生存!作者必获得庭到生命的类别中去!在此个时候跳跃,像鸟类相仿地飞,观望、体察,成为三个当真的人,宁愿过半天这种生活,也不愿在劳苦和清淡中日久天长地生活;这种生活使本人陷入,像草地上的雾同样藏形匿影。笔者要像云相同在生命的阳光中发光;像云相近能张望远处,像云相像地飞行,什么人也不知道飞向何方!”那是树精的长吁短气,那叹息形成了祈祷:   “把本人的余生拿去呢,给自个儿蜉蝣生命的十分之五啊!把自个儿从自己的监狱中解救出来吧!给本人人的性命,短短的人的少时快乐吧,若必须那样,就给自己几近日那豆蔻年华夜吧,为本身这种不怕就义的渴求、对生命的渴望而查办小编啊!放本人出来,让自个儿的这几个房子,那棵鲜嫩年轻的树,枯萎、倒下,形成灰烬随风飘走吧!”树枝沙沙作响,产生了阵阵令人痒酥酥的认为。每片叶子都在颤抖,好像生出了火苗,只怕是从外面飞溅来了火花。树冠上刮起生龙活虎阵大风,在狂沙洪雨中冒出了一个才女的形像,她是树精。忽地他坐在煤气灯照亮的长满树叶的树枝下,她年轻、美丽,像特别的玛莉同样,大家对他曾说过那样的话:“那贰个大城市会使您遭灾!”   树精坐在树根旁,坐在自身的家门口。她曾经把门锁上,把钥匙扔了。她是这样年轻,如此美艳!星星看到他,对她眨眼,煤气灯见到他,烁烁生辉,向她挥动!她是何等纤秀又何其健美啊。她是一个亲骨血却又是叁个成熟的闺女。她的时装像缎子相近精致,像树冠上吐放的新叶相通威尼斯红;在他那浅绿头发上,插着生机勃勃朵半开的尖栗花;她如同春之好看的女人。她只沉寂地坐了一小会儿,便跳了起来,像羚羊似的连忙地偏离了非常地方,来到了街上。她跑啊,跳啊,像寄放在太阳光里的近视镜,反射出朝气蓬勃清宣宗束来,那光不断地移动,时而到这里,时而在这里边;如若壹人紧凑地调查,能见到实际看来的事物,那是多奇妙啊!她的衣衫和形体的色调都随着她暂停的地点的特征,随着房子里射在他衣衫上的灯的亮光而变化着。   她过来了大路上。从街灯、商城和咖啡厅的煤气灯射出的光汇成了二个光的海洋。年轻纤秀的树在那处排得次序分明,每棵树里都规避着本身的树精,要躲开人工阳光。那望不到尽头的人行道,像贰个贤人的厅堂;安置着美妙绝伦的食品,从香槟、Carl特荨麻酒直到咖啡和苦艾酒。这里还摆着鲜花、图片、摄影、书籍和多彩的面料。   她从高楼下的人群中向树外可怕的人工宫外孕望去;那边是滚动着的车子、单马拉的双轮篷车、小车、公共马车、街车、骑马地铁绅们和列队前进地铁兵们摇身风华正茂变的大喜大悲的巨浪。要走到街对面去,是要冒生命危急的。一即刻是蓝光焰火,一刹那间又是煤气电灯的光。忽地有三个火箭冲向天空,它是从何地来的,射到哪儿去了?   很分明,那是世界之城的大路!   那边传来了温情的意国歌曲,那边是有响板伴奏的西班牙王国(The Kingdom of Spain)歌曲。可是最明白、淹过一切的是八音盒奏出的流行音乐,那富激情性的坎坎中国风⒀,连奥菲欧⒁也不明了,美貌的Helena⒂更不曾听到过,就连独轮手推车也禁不住想用本身的那只独轮跳起舞来,即使它会跳舞的话。树精舞着,旋转着,飞跃着,像蜂鸟相符在阳光下转移着颜色,因为每座屋子和房子里的一切都在她随身反射出来。   她像断了茎的齿叶睡莲⒃随着水的涡流漂走了。她每在三个地点停下的时候,都要变为三个新的印象,由此未曾人能跟随她,认出他,也看不见她。   一切都如云中的幻象那样在他身边飞过,少年老成幅又后生可畏幅面孔可是她哪黄金年代副面孔也不认得,她从未看出来自家乡的别的一位。她的脑海中展示出两只闪闪夺指标眸子:她想着玛莉,可怜的玛莉!这几个支离破碎、头发上插着红花的欢欣的子女。你们通晓,她在这里世界大城市里很有钱、精神饱满,就疑似他乘车经过牧师的房间、树精的树和那棵老橡树的时候那么。   她明确就在此热闹非凡的一片喧嚣声中。可能她刚刚从停在边上的富华的马车的里面走出来;那些宝贵的马车的马车夫都穿着战胜,仆人也都穿着丝袜。从车里下来的全部者都以时装华贵的老婆。她们走进敞开的花格大门,走上通往德州桂圆柱的构筑物这高宽的阶梯。那难道是“世界神蹟”?玛莉一定在里边。   “圣玛阿里格尔!”里面有人在叫好。香烟从宏伟、涂金、半明半暗的拱门里飘出。   那是圣母教堂。   华贵的妇人,穿着用最昂贵的料子裁剪成最时新样式的黑礼性格很顽强在艰难困苦或巨大压力面前不屈,走过了光洁的地板。族徽印在镶有银扣、用丝绒装帧的祈愿书上,也绣在散发着明显的香水味,缀有吉隆坡大洋的手帕上。有三个人女士静静地跪在圣坛前面作祈祷,其它几个人走向忏悔室。   树精认为风度翩翩种不安,风流洒脱种恐怖,就就如他走进了三个不应当去之处。这里如同是清静之家,是私人商品房的客厅;全部的话都以用十分低的声音、在大致听不见的喃喃声中说出来的。树精看到本身穿着天鹅绒的服装,披着纱,和这个具有、华贵的妇人同样。哪个人知道他们是或不是也像他同样,是满怀“渴望”的子女呢?   此时传来风华正茂阵叹息声,声音难受而深沉;是从忏悔室这么些角落依旧从树精的胸中传出去的?她把披纱拉得更紧地围着自身。她吸到的不是大自然中的新鲜空气,而是教堂香烟的脾胃。那不是他渴望的地方。   走开!走开呢!无边无际地飞走啊!蜉蝣是未有休憩的,它飞着就是在世。   她又赶到喷泉边的煤气灯之下。“然则全部泉水都洗不净洒在这里边的无辜的鲜血⒄。”   有人这么说。   这儿站着不菲别人,他们在兴致勃勃地高谈大论;她刚从那边走出去的不得了神秘的厅堂里是从未人敢如此做的。有一块大石板被人翻动了一下,被抬了四起。她不精通这件事。她见到了进来地下深处的可怜入口;大家从星罗棋布的晴朗的天空、从阳光似闪光的煤气灯下,从具备精气神儿的地点走了下来。   “笔者多少怕它!”站在这里间的一个人女子说道:“我不敢走下来!作者不鲜见这里的仙境!陪着本人啊!”   “就如此回去,”男生说道,“离开巴黎而还没看过这由个体的灵气和意志力成立的、真正玄妙的现代一时候⒅!”   “作者不下去。”那是应对。   “今世的不时,”有些人说道。树精听到了,也驾驭它的野趣。她最早渴望的指标已经实现了,这里是步入到法国巴黎深处的进口;她从不想到过这一点。可是以往他听到了,见到了那多少个法国人走了下来,她任何时候走下来了。   台阶是铁铸的,螺旋形状,很宽大很有利。下边燃着大器晚成盏灯,更下边又有一盏灯。   他们站在生机勃勃座迷宫里,里面尽是交错的厅堂和拱门。香水之都全部的街道和小巷在那地都足以看来,像在一方面粗糙的老花镜里。能够读到街名。每所房子都有和谐的门牌号码,墙基砌在荒漠的沥青小道上。那道路沿着一条宽大的、淤积许多烂泥的人工河延展出去。高处是一条引水槽,清新的湍流被引向人工河。最上边悬着煤气管和电报线网。远处电灯的光闪烁着,像世界大都会的倒影。大家平日地听到上边传出隆隆声,那是载重车辆从地下道上的桥的上面驶过去。   树精在怎么样地方?   你传说过非法墓穴吧,比起这些新的私行世界、这几个现代的有时:巴黎的排水沟来,它太一丝一毫了。树精就在那刻,而并没有在Mars广场的世博会里。   她听到了好奇、钦慕和表扬声。   “从这深处,”有些人会说,“上边数不清的人拿走健康和长寿!大家的时期是向上的时日,具备那些时期应该的全数幸福。”   那是人的眼光和说法,并不是在此边诞生,在此地安家的那么些百姓——老鼠的见解和说法。他们在后生可畏堵旧墙的缝里吱吱叫,声音特别精晓,连树精都能听懂。   那是七只明年纪的公老鼠,他的尾巴被咬断掉了,他用尖锐的吱吱声道出了温馨的感受、痛苦和唯黄金年代正确的见识,他的一家子赞同他说的每一个字。   “小编讨厌死了人的喵喵声,这些无知的言谈!这里非常不利,有煤气,有重油!那类东西小编是不吃的。那儿很安适,很明白,让您呆着忍不住惭愧起来,并且竟不清楚干什么感到惭愧。假如大家生存在油灯时期多好!那实际不是离以往太久远的事体!那是罗曼蒂克的一代,大家是那般说的。”   “你在说些什么?”树精问道。“笔者从前从未见过您。你在讲哪些业务?”   “小编在讲过去那美好的时光!”老鼠说道。“外公和姑曾祖母老鼠的幸福意气风发世!在十三分时代到上边来但是豆蔻年华件盛事。那时候的老鼠窝和任何巴黎都不相符!鼠疫母亲住在此下边;她杀死人,可不杀老鼠,强盗和走私贩在那地自由地深呼吸。这里是最佳玩的人物、以往只有在音乐剧舞台上能力看出的那多少人的避护所。大家老鼠窝里的轻薄时代已经玉陨香消了;大家这儿有了新鲜空气,有了石脑油。”   老鼠便是那样吱吱说的;他抱怨新的一代,赞叹有鼠疫的旧年代。   生龙活虎辆自行车停了下来,那是由健康的小马拉着的敞篷公共马车。主人坐了进来,沿着塞Bath托波尔大道驶远了。地下的方面是法国首都挤满了人群的头面包车型客车地方,向四方增添开来。车子在半明半暗的电灯的光中未有了。树精不见了,出未来煤气灯的亮光四之日专断空气里面,实际不是在此长短不一的圆弧通道里和令人窒息的氛围里,寻觅神蹟,世界奇迹,她在团结不久的生龙活虎夜生命中追求的这种东西;它发的光比这里全数的煤气灯的灯火还要显著,比正在滑过天空的月亮还要精通。是的,的确不易!她望见它就在此,在他的眼下闪光,它闪耀着,向她招手,就如天上的太白星。   她见到少年老成扇光亮的大门,朝叁个微细花园开着。花园里火树银花,重打击乐声犹在耳。煤气灯在烁烁,有如环绕着平静的湖泖和水池的一条羊肠小径。湖水和水池旁用铅皮剪制的人造花卉低垂着,丰富多彩,光彩夺目,从花蕊喷出一股高高的水泉。雅观的倒挂柳——真正的春季的水柳将团结清新的柳枝垂落,像一片透明但又能遮面包车型地铁绿纱。这里的松木中国船只燃料供应总公司起一群篝火,青灰的火光照着那贰个盲目、幽静的凉亭。扣人心弦的音乐在耳际震荡着,富有使人陶醉的吸引力,使血流流遍周身。   她见到了数不尽美观、身着节日盛装的后生女人,脸上显示迷人的微笑和年轻的兴奋。一个人“玛莉”,头发上插着徘徊花,但还未有马车和马车夫。她们在狂舞中是何许开心,摇曳、旋转,不辨方向,疑似被南欧巨蛛⒆咬了一口!她们在欢笑,幸福得要去拥抱环球。   树精认为温馨被卷入狂舞之中。她那小巧的脚穿着化学纤维鞋子,是水晶绿的,和飘在他头发下,披在她流露的肩上的那条丝带的颜色同样。她的绿绸衣裙有为数不菲大折摺在飞舞,然而遮不住她那美观的腿和宜人的脚。那双腿像要在那欢舞的先生的头前画出魔圈似的。   她是在阿尔米达的魔幻花园⒇中呢?那些地点叫什么名字?   名字在外头的煤气灯中熠熠生辉:   玛毕尔(21)   音乐声、鼓掌声,焰火,银铃般的流水声和香槟酒杯碰撞声混在协同;舞蹈跳得如梦如醉。在此一切之上,光明的月稳步移过,作了二个不足的鬼脸。天空中绝非云,明朗月光蓝,人们就好像是从玛毕尔一向望到天上。   树精浑身有意气风发种人困马乏的陶醉感,就好像吸过鸦片之后的这种沉迷。   她的眼睛在讲话,嘴唇在讲话,但是他的话语被笛子和提琴声所消除。她的舞伴在他的耳边轻语,他们在坎坎舞曲中晃荡;她听不懂那几个私语,大家听不懂。他把手朝他伸去,搂住她,但却只拥抱着那晶莹的、充满煤气的气氛。   树精被气流托起,就如风托起一片刺客瓣。在高空中,她看见在大器晚成座塔顶上有大器晚成道火焰,风流洒脱道闪动的火光。火从她的渴望的目标物上射出,从马尔斯广场的“莫甘娜仙女”的新民主主义革命的灯塔射出。春日的风把她吹向那边。她绕着塔飞着;正在干活的大家感觉他们观察的是叁只蝴蝶在袅袅,在太早到来的寿终正寝中死去。   光明的月照着,煤气灯和别的明灯在厅堂中,在分流在四方的“万国馆”里燃照着。照着这些宝石红覆盖的高坡,照着那个人类智慧创建的岩层堆,“无血师傅”的技术使泉水从地方倾泻下来。海底的山洞、淡水河、湖淀的深处,鱼的社会风气在此映着重帘。你放在在深潭里,你仿佛到了海的深处,你在玻璃潜水罩里。水从随地压向那粗厚玻璃壁。滑溜的水螅好几尺长,像白鳗相似弯卷曲曲,抖动着它的脏器、触肢,在搜求怎么样似地蠕动,浮上去,又牢牢地贴在海底。一条大挞沙鱼,行思坐想地躺在周边,舒服自在。椰子蟹像大蜘蛛似地从它上边爬过,虾快捷地游着,好像它们是英里的飞蛾和蝴蝶。   淡水中生长着睡莲,灯芯草和苇子。金喜头排成队,就像旷野里的白牛,头都朝着多少个势头,好让水流进它们的嘴里。又肥又胖的毛子呆呆地瞅着玻璃壁;它们精通,它们是在法国首都会展上,它们知道,它们被放在装满了水的桶里,经历千难万难的远足,在列车上还怕晕车,就好像人在海上怕晕船相近。它们是来看博览会的,它们在本身的淡水缸或咸水缸中看出了博览会,见到了从早到晚川流不息的人工宫外孕。世界多个国家都把团结国家的人送来展出,好让梭鱼、河鲫鱼、活泼的宝石鱼和全身长满青苔的大朝仔看看这种生灵,对那个种族表示本身的意见。   “他们是长鳞的动物!”一条浑身污泥的小拐子说道。“他们每一日更动两壹遍鳞,嘴里还发生后生可畏种声音,他们把它称作讲话。大家不换鳞,用生机勃勃种更简便易行的措施让其他鱼理解大家;动一动嘴角,瞪少年老成瞪眼睛!大家比人类先进得多!”   “可是他们可能学会了游泳。”一条小淡水鱼说道;“笔者是从三个大内湖来的。这里的群众在热暑的时候钻到水里,然而他们先把鳞脱掉,然后再游,那是青蛙教会他们的。他们用后腿蹬着,用前腿划着,他们辅助不断多长时间。他们要想效仿大家,可是不成!可怜的人呀!”   鱼儿都瞪大了眼;它们以为在明明的日光中看出的那多少个拥挤的人群,未来仍在此走动着。是的,它们以为它们见到的照旧是那一位形,就是那几个人形第一回震撼了它们的感到神经。一条长有花条纹和令人惊羡的肥脊背的小海鲈鱼保证说,它看见的那“人稀泥”还是在那边。   “小编也看到了,看得很明亮!”一条黄黄河鲤鱼说道。“小编理解地察看了长得很匀称的雅观人形,‘高腿内人’,只怕随意叫她怎么着。她长着和大家相仿的嘴角和圆圆大两眼,背后是四只荧光球,前边是合二为少年老成的伞,身上披着上窜下跳的水草。她想把那些都投向,像大家雷同,归真反璞,她想尽人类所能,把温馨化妆成一条高雅的毛子。”   “那多少个被钩在鱼线上的人,那些男士何地去了?”“他坐留意气风发辆手推车的里面,带着纸、笔和学术,把如袁传强西都从上到下写一遍,他们管他叫访员!”   “他仍坐在车里跑来跑去呢!”一条浑身长着青苔的拐子老姑娘说道。她的嗓音里具备全球的辛苦,所以他的声息有一些沙哑;有一回他吞了二个鱼钩,现在她还带着它不耐性地游着。   “新闻报道工作者?”她说道,“挺有一点点鱼的味道,用深入显出的话说,他就是全人类中的墨鱼。”   鱼就是那样用自身的不二秘籍出口。不过在那有水的人为的隧洞中传唱了鎯头声和工人的歌声,他们要在晚上加班劳动,使任何非常的慢能造成。他们在树精的夏夜梦之中赞扬,她站在这里边,等着飞翔出去消失掉。   “那都以金刀子鱼类!”她说道,向它们点着头。“作者终于看到你们了!是的,笔者认知你们,小编早就知道你们了!在老家时燕子对我讲过你们。你们好雅观啊,真可喜!笔者想要把你们每人都亲吻一次!那个自身也知晓!那终将是肥梭鱼,那是可口的喜鱼,那儿是长了青苔的大朱砂鲤!小编精晓你们!你们不认得笔者。”   鱼儿们瞪大了双目,四个字也不懂,它们通过昏暗的辉煌往外瞧着。   树精已经不在这里儿。她站在外部空地上,世界各省的“古怪之花”散发出不一致的菲菲,裸麦黑面包国度的(22)、石肠鱼海岸的(23),产皮革的俄罗丝的,男圣路易斯香水的河岸的(24)和产玫瑰油的东头国家(25)的香气。   到场完意气风发夜的舞会,大家半梦半醒地乘车回家的时候,大家的耳畔仍清晰地回响着我们听到的那个曲子,种种曲子我们都会唱。像在八个被暗害的人的眼睛里,能够将最后的一须臾像雕塑雷同保留生龙活虎段时间。相通在此夜里,白天活着中的喧哗和自豪依旧未散,未有未有,树精认为到了那一点,她也亮堂:明日还要持续沸腾下去。   树精站在幽香的玫瑰之间,她以为她在本乡就认知它们,那是从宫廷花园和牧师花园里来的。她在那还察看了丙子革命的天浆花,玛莉就在他的象牙白的毛发上插过如此大器晚成朵花。她的脑海中闪过儿时村落家园的情景;她用渴求的眼凝望四周的景物,特别的不安充斥着他的心,把他带过风流洒脱座座惊愕的高楼。   她以为疲劳,这种疲劳在持续地加强。她希望躺在铺在地上的心软的东面垫子和地毯上休养,可能和垂枝柳一齐垂向清澈的水,钻入水中。   然而蜉蝣并未止息。再有几秒钟,一天便结束了。她的思量在发抖,她的人体也颤抖起来,她倒在潺潺流水旁边的草地上。   “你从地底涌出,有固定的人命!”她说道,“润少年老成润作者的舌头,给自个儿点提神的药吗!”   “我不是长流的清泉!”流水说道,“笔者是用机器抽上来的。”   “那请把你的清爽给本人轻易啊,绿草,”树精央求着,“请给自己豆蔻年华朵川白芷的花儿吧!”   “把大家摘下来,大家便要去世!”草和花说道。   “吻作者一下吗,清新的空气啊!作者只要叁个挑起生命的吻。”   “不一立即太阳便要将浮云吻红!”风说道,“这时候您便与死者为伍了,消失了,正如一年底了时这里的百分百胜景都要消逝同样。于是本身便足以和广场上的轻微的散沙一齐游戏了,将尘土吹过世界,吹到空中,尘土!四处是尘土(26)!”树精感觉大器晚成种恐怖,像一人正在沐浴的农妇被割破血管,血流了出去,却在不断流血中希望活下来相像。她爬起来,往前走了几步,又在二个小教堂的先头倒下。教堂的门是敞开着的,圣坛上灯火明亮,风琴在鸣奏着。   多特出的音乐呀!树精平素未有听到过那样的乐曲,但是在此种音乐中她听到了听得多了自然能详细说出来的鸣响,那声音发自一切生灵的内心深处。她又觉获得了老橡树的飒飒声,她又听到了老牧师在商讨最高尚的一颦一笑、有名誉的名字;批评上帝创制的国民可以同期必需对以后作出些什么贡献,才具获得一定的性命。   风琴声在广阔,在荡漾,它唱道:   “你的欲念和须要把你从上帝赐予你的土地上连根拔起。那是你的患难,可怜的树精!”   风琴声柔和,婉转,疑似哭泣并在哭泣中未有。   天上彤云闪闪夺目。风飒飒响着,唱着:“飘逝了吧,你,死者,今后太阳升起了!”   第意气风发道阳光落到树精身上。缤纷的情调交替在她的肌体上闪现,像多个肥皂泡,破碎了,在灭绝,成为一滴水珠,后生可畏滴眼泪,落到了地上,不见了。   可怜的树精!生机勃勃滴露珠,大器晚成滴眼泪,圆圆地流出来消失了!   太阳照耀在马尔斯广场的“莫甘娜仙女”之上,照射着庞大的法国巴黎,照着大厦之间那块有树有淙淙泉水之处。这棵栗树立在此边,但是枝子垂下了,叶子枯萎了,明天它还像春季同样清新,充满青春活力。未来它死了,大家都说树精离开了它,像云同样飞走了,什么人也不清楚他去了哪个地方。地上有生机勃勃朵枯萎、折下的栗树花,教堂的圣水无力挽留它的生命。人快捷就把它踩进土里。   全体那风度翩翩体都发出过,为人人所经历过。   大家所看见的和听到的这个业务,在1867年法国巴黎的会展期间,在我们以那个时候期,在童话的巨大和奇特的时代里。   ①1867年4月15日至5月9日法国首都进行了第贰次“法国首都国际交易会”,安徒生去那边看了那几个交易会。他在解释自个儿的童话时说,那个时候有一人丹麦王国报事人在报上说,对法国巴黎国际博览会的豪迈地方,独有狄更斯技能描述。安徒生于是萌生了写巴黎博览会的主张。   ②这边记的是安徒生于1866年3月14日(法国巴黎国际博览会的二〇一八年)在香水之都所见的事。他所住的旅店外面有一小片空地,他看来有人运来两棵树,种在这里边。   ③指法兰西女豪杰贞德,参见《通向荣誉的荆棘路》注14。   ④多个法兰西共和国青娥(1768—1793),在法兰西大革命中谋害了立时的名牌政治家、新闻报道人员马拉。   ⑤牧师以为玛莉已陷入妓女。在及时,略有身份的人是不亲自驾马车的,并且玛莉在五年中生活变得那般好,那必须要是操不正当的营生才有一点都不小希望。   ⑥万国交易会的飞流直下四千尺建筑。   ⑦安徒生很赏识把机器称作无血师傅。   ⑧北美洲游牧民族。   ⑨形容言语众多。见圣经旧约《创世纪》。上帝让诺亚造方舟躲过了受涝,诺亚敷衍了子孙。世上的人都是诺亚的后生,传布在世界外市(实际上是中东地区),大家分为邦国。但是天下人的乡音语言都以千篇意气风发律的。有一大群人聚在三个叫示拿的地点,他们开端建房造塔。上帝见到她们是同样的人种,说的都以同一语言,惊愕他们事后呼风唤雨,于是改变她们的乡音,使她们的言语相互不通。产生那一件事的地点便是巴别,意思是变乱。巴别就是巴比伦。   ⑩指大自然。   ⑾巴黎最器重的教堂,是社会风气闻明的建筑。   ⑿回想拿破仑1805年10月12日战斗胜利的碑柱,在汶多姆广场。   ⒀、⒁、⒂19世纪初坎坎舞在法兰西共和国盛行,是风姿洒脱种轻快的戏台舞蹈。但这种舞蹈揭发舞女的腿部过多,颇受污蔑。奥菲欧和美貌的Helena指高卢雄鸡19世纪着重作曲家奥芬Bach的两部相声剧《地狱中的奥菲欧》和《美观的Helena》。安徒生对奥芬Bach的这两部歌舞剧持商量态度,说它们有坎坎舞的含意。   ⒃埃及(Egypt)睡莲,无根生长。   ⒄指1789年高卢鸡资金财产阶级革命中的命赴黄泉者。   ⒅法国首都下水道和地下管道设施是由程序员欧仁·Bell格兰(1810—1878)设计的,建于1860年左右。   ⒆据他们说被这种巨蛛咬一口,会发出疯狂的载歌载舞欲。   ⒇意大利共和国小说家塔索(1544—1595)有20歌叙事长诗《被解放的尼斯》。第16歌讲骑士们在阿尔米达奇幻花园中受骗去攻打奇瓦瓦。   (21)法国首都的二个花园旅社。   (22)指丹麦王国。   (23)指Noreg。   (24)指圣路易斯和沧澜江。   (25)指波斯,即伊朗伊斯兰共和国。   (26)尘土是人离世的意味。圣经旧约《创世纪》第3章第17至19句,上帝对亚当说“你一定要毕生辛劳……直到你归了土。……你本是灰尘,仍要归于尘土。”

大家游览去,去观念国巴黎的会展。

用作盛名世界的童话小说家,安徒生将毕生精力进献给了童话创作,写了广大流传于今的童话好玩的事,在那之中就有大家很熟习的《卖火柴的小女孩》、《天子的新装》、《海的孙女》、《丑小鸭》等,他还在童话中授予深层的味道。图片 1

大家前几天就到了!那是二次火速的远足,可是实际不是凭仗什么吸重力而成功的。大家是凭着蒸汽的手艺,乘船或坐火车去的。

安徒生 安徒生的小说有何样 代表作有:《拇指姑娘》、《卖火柴的小女孩》、《丑小鸭》、《海的孙女》、《国君的新装》、《坚定的锡兵》、《树精》、《最后的一天》等。 小说:《即兴诗人》、《奥·特》、《两位公爵爱妻》、《幸运的贝儿》等。 剧本:《阿夫Saul》、《乌鸦》、《幸福之花》、《睡魔》、《长桥》、《接骨木树老妈》等。 游记:《西班牙(Reino de España)山水》、《Sverige游记》、《访问葡萄牙共和国》、《从霍尔门运河至阿迈厄岛东角步行记》。 诗集:《幻想与具象》、《一年的十二个月》等。 安徒生童话 安徒生的童话创作分早、中、晚五个时代。 前期童话多充满绮丽的幻想、乐观的动感,显示现实主义和罗曼蒂克主义相结合的特征。中期童话,幻想成分减少,现实成分相对进步。最后阶段童话比中期特别面对现实,着力描写底层大伙儿的悲苦命局,揭示社会生活的阴冷、乌黑和下方的不平。 安徒生童话中更多的是来源于《新约》而非《旧约》的原型。在小说中,一如在生活中,面对尘世的苦水与不幸,安徒生未有选择埋怨、暴力和抵御,只是从她的情仰中得出受与希望,就像他的生龙活虎首诗中所说,“你不懂世界上最热烈的拼搏而只认得爱”。安徒生的童话中从无根本的味道;纵然时常是感伤的,却是充满希望的低落。这种期望授予他的作品超乎时间和空间的慰藉力量。安徒生在他的自传中所说,“无论对上帝照旧对全数的人,笔者都充斥爱意!”而且他以为,自个儿的毕生注脚了“有叁个紧凑可爱的上帝把—切教导得呱呱叫”。那委实在她的童话中获得丰盛的反映。

我们的一时是一个童话的一代。

咱俩明天是在法国首都的基本,在三个大旅馆里面。整个的梯子上都装修着花朵;全体的梯级上都铺满了软和的地毯。

我们的屋企是很心花怒放的;阳台的门是向阳一个宽松的广场开着的。春日就住在这里上边。它是和大家乘车子同不常候过来的。它的外部是风姿浪漫株年轻的大栗树,长满了新出的嫩叶子。它的青春的新装是何其赏心悦目啊!它穿得比广场上此外其余的树都美观!这个树中有大器晚成棵已经不可能算是有性命的树了,它直直地倒在地上,连根都拔起来了。在它过去立着的那块地方,那棵新的粟树将会被裁进去,生长起来。

到近来截止,它依旧立在一辆沉重的自行车的里面。是那辆车子明天从广大里以外的山乡把它运进法国首都来的。在这里早先,有几许年,它直接是立在风度翩翩棵大栎树旁边。一个人和善的老牧师平日坐在这里棵橡树下,讲轶事给这些全神关注的男女们听。那棵年轻的栗树也任何时候她们齐声听。住在它当中的树精那时候也还只是是三个男女。她还记得那树小孩子时代的景观。那时候它相当小,还不曾草叶或凤尾草那么高。这一个草类能够说是大得不可再大了,不过栗树却在不停地生长,一年一度总要增大一点。它选取空气和太阳光,喝着露水和雨点,被强风摇撼和奏乐,那是它的启蒙的生龙活虎部分。

村精喜欢自个儿的活着和条件、太阳光和鸟类的歌声。可是她最欢悦听人类的响声。她明白人类的语言,也生龙活虎律清楚动物的语言。

胡蝶啦、蜻蜓啦、苍蝇啦——的确,全部能飞的东西都来拜谒她。他们到手拉手就拉拉扯扯。他们商议着关于村落、赐紫含高雄、树林和带花园的宫廷——宫里还只怕有三个大园林——那类的作业。皇城的公园之中还也许有溪流和堤坝。水里也住得有生物,而且那些生物也会有温馨的意气风发套办法在水里自此间飞到这里。它们都是有知识、有思索的生物,不过它们不开腔,因为它们特别聪明。

已经钻进水里去过的雨燕商量着美貌的金喜鱼、肥壮的鲫壳子、粗大的宝石鱼和长得有青苔的老黄河鲤鱼。它把它们描写得要命活跃,不过它说:“最佳你要么切身去看看啊。”可是树精怎么着能观望这么些生物呢?她能收看美丽的景点和忙绿的灯利口酒绿活动——她也只可以满意于这一个事物了。那是很玄妙的思想政治工作。但是最佳看的专门的学业也许听那位老牧师在株树下批评法国和大多女婿和农妇的有影响的人事迹——那一个人的名字,任何时代的人风度翩翩谈起来将在表示爱慕。

树精听着关于牧羊女贞德①的事情和关于夏洛·哥戴②的政工。她听着关于三皇五帝的事务——从Henley四世和拿破仑豆蔻年华世,向来到大家那一个时代的天赋和宏伟的史事。她听着好多在平民心目引起共识的名字。法国是一个具备世界意义的国度,是一块养育着随便精气神的理智的土地。!

村里的子女收视返听地听着;树精也目不窥园地听着。她像别的孩子没有差距,也是叁个小学子。凡是他所听到的事物,她都能在这里贰个活动着的浮云中看出切实的影象。

白云朵朵的天空就是他的画集。

他以为住在奇妙的法兰西共和国是比很甜美的。可是他也以为鸟儿和各个能飞的动物都比她侥幸得多。以至苍蝇都能向四周看得超远,比贰个树精的视线要大得多。

法兰西是那么周围和宜人,不过她只好见到它的一个局地。这个国家是四个世界,有赐紫楔台中、树林和大城市。在此些事物里面,时尚之都要算是最美貌,最宏大的了。鸟儿能够飞进它在那之中去,然而她却无法。

这个乡下孩子中有一个小女孩。她穿着一身破碎的衣衫,极度贫穷,可是他的轨范却十一分讨人喜欢。她不是在笑,正是在歌唱;她爱好用红花编成花环戴在她的黑发上。

“不要到法国巴黎去吧!”老牧师说。“可怜的儿女,借使您去,你就能够损毁!”

唯独他却去了。

树精平常思量着他。的确,她们俩对那么些宏伟的城邑有平等的远瞻和梦寐不忘。

青春来了;接着正是夏日、上秋和冬季。三年过去了。

树精所住的那棵树首次开出了栗花,鸟儿在美妙的日光中喃喃地歌颂这件业务。那时路上有大器晚成辆美丽的马车开过来了。车的里面坐着一人高贵的爱人。她亲自赶着那几匹赏心悦目标快马,二个秀气的小马车夫坐在她的末尾。树精认出了他,那多少个老牧师也认出了她。牧师摇摇头,惋惜地说:

“你到当年去!那会带给您有毒呀!可怜的玛莉啊!”

“她拾壹分啊?”树精想。“不,那是风流倜傥种何等大的改观啊!她装扮得像壹个人男爵妻子!那是因为她到了二个动人的城墙才改造得那样。啊,小编愿意作者要好也能到那豪华富贵的条件中去!当本人在晚间向自身所驾驭的这么些城墙随处的方向望去的时候,笔者凝视它射出光来,把天空的云朵都照亮了。”

确实无疑,每一天黄昏,每日晚间,树精都向十三分方向望。她瞥见大器晚成层充满了光的薄雾,浮在地平线上。可是在月明之夜她就看不见它了;她看不见突显着那城的形象和历史的那一个浮云。

孩子心爱自身的画集;树精喜欢自身的云世界——她的合计之书。

从未云块的、炎热的伏季的天空,对他说来,等于是一本未有字的书。以往连续几日有少好些天他只见到这么的苍天。

那是一个热销的三夏,三番两次串闷人的日子,没有一点点风。

每一片树叶,每意气风发朵花,好疑似昏睡过去了相像,都垂下了;人也是那般。后来云块现身了,何况它现身的地点刚好是夜里光荣的雾气所笼罩着之处:那是法国巴黎。

云块升起来了,造成一整串连绵的山脉。它们在上空,在全球上海飞机成立厂驰,树精一眼都望不切合实际。

云块凝结成为淡红的华而不实石块,生机勃勃层风姿浪漫层地叠在高空中。雷暴从它们在那之中射出来。“那是上帝的下人,”老牧师说。接着风流洒脱道深紫的。耀眼的光——风度翩翩道像太阳相近光——现身了。它射穿石块;于是打雷打下来,把那株可敬的老株树连根劈成两半。它的顶裂开了,它的躯干裂开了;它倒下去,伏在地上,好疑似它想要拥抱光的使节似的。

一个王子诞生时向天空和全国所放的炮声,怎么着也赶不上那株老株树死去时的雷轰。冬至在向下流;少年老成阵卫生的暖风在吹。龙卷风雨已经归西了;随地都笼罩着周天相通的熨帖气氛。村里的人在此株倒下的老株树周围聚拢起来。那位可珍惜的老牧师说了几句称扬它的话;一个人画师把那株树绘下来。留作最终的眷恋。

“一切都过去了!”树精说,“像那二个云块相似过去了,再也不回去!”

老牧师不再来了,高校的屋顶塌下来了,老师的座席也向来不了,孩子们也不再来了。可是金天来了,冬季来了,阳节也来了。在这里些转变的时令中,树精遥遥地向海外望——在此远方,法国巴黎每夜像生龙活虎层放光的薄雾似的,在地平线上冒出。高铁的前部分大器晚成架随即风流罗曼蒂克架、车厢黄金时代串接着后生可畏串,时时随地地从香水之都开出来,发出隆隆的吼声。轻轨在晚间和半夜三更初叶,在傍晚和白天运行。世界各个国家来的人,有的钻进车厢里去,有的从车厢里走出来。意气风发件世界的奇观把她们抓住到法国巴黎来了。

那是什么的风流倜傥种奇观吧?

“风姿浪漫朵艺术和工业的美丽之花,”大家说,“在马尔斯广场的荒土上开出来了。它是生机勃勃朵宏大的向日葵。它的每片花瓣都使大家上学到有关地理和总括的知识,通晓到各行师傅的本领,把大家升高到艺术和诗的地步,使我们意识到各国的面积和有影响的人。”

“那是风流倜傥朵童话之花,”其它有些人会说,“豆蔻梢头朵多彩的水华。它把它在孟陬冒出的绿叶铺在沙土上,像一块棉布的地毯。它在夏日表现出它的一切美貌。晚秋的狂飙把它连根带叶全体都扫走了。”

队伍容貌学院前边是一片和日常的战役演练场。这一片土地未有长草和粮食。它是从北美洲荒漠里割下来的一块大赤沙。在老大沙漠上,莫甘娜仙女③平日彰显出她的欢畅的楼阁和架空的园林。今后那块马尔斯广场显得更美貌,更古怪,因为人类的天才把幻景变成了真正。

“将来正在修造的是豆蔻梢头座近代阿拉丁之宫④,”大家说。“每过一天,每过一点钟,它就显流露越来越多和更杰出的光荣。”

赤峰石和各类色彩把那么些无穷尽的厅堂装饰得非常完美。“未有血液”的大个子在此伟大的“机器馆”里动着它的刚烈的皮肤。钢铁制成的、石头雕成的和手工织成的艺术品表达了在世界各国所搏动着的精气神生活。画廊、美貌的花朵、本领人在她们的职业室里用小聪明和单手所创办出来的东西,今后全都在那时候陈列出来了。汉朝宫廷和沼泽地的遗物现在也在此儿展览出来了。

其豆蔻梢头宏大的、五光十色的展览,一定要复制作而成为模型,压缩到玩具那么大小,好使公众可以看出和领会它的全貌。

马尔斯广场上,像个伟大的圣诞饭桌同样,就是这一个工业和方法的阿拉丁之宫。宫的四周陈列着来自世界多个国家的展品:每一个民族都能在那时候找到黄金时代件令她们想起他们的国家的事物。

那儿有埃及的宫廷,那儿有沙漠的游历商队。那儿有从太阳的国度来的,骑着骆驼走过的贝杜因人⑤,那儿有养着草原上雅观烈马的俄联邦马厩。挂着Danmark国旗的、嗹(lián)国农家的草屋,跟Sverige达拉尔的古斯达夫·瓦萨时期⑥的精密的木雕房屋,并列排在一条线站在一块儿。U.S.A.的木房屋、英帝国的村屋、法兰西的茶亭。清真寺、教堂和舞剧院都很艺术地在联合具名陈列了出去。在它们中间有净化的绿草坪、清澈的小溪、开着花朵的乔木、珍奇的树和玻璃房屋——你在这里在那之中能够设想你是在热带的树林中。整片整片的刺客畦像是从马来西亚士革运来的,在屋顶下盛放着的繁花,多么美的色彩!多么清香的白芷!人工造的钟乳石石洞里面有淡水湖和咸水湖;它们代表鱼的世界。大家以往是站在海底,在鱼和珊瑚虫的中等。

大家说,那整个事物以后Mars广场皆有了,都位列出来了。整群的人,有的步行,有的坐在小马车上,都在这里个丰裕的饭桌子的上面移动,像一大堆辛苦的蚂蚁同样。平凡的人的汉奸是无力回天支撑这种疲劳的浏览的。

游历者从清晨径直到上午都在不停地赶来。装满了客人的轮船,风度翩翩艘接着生机勃勃艘地在塞纳河上开过去。车子的多寡在不断地扩展,步行和骑马的人也在一再地追加。公共马车和电车的里面都挤满了人。这几个人群都向同一个指标地集聚:巴黎会展!全部的输入都悬着法兰西的国旗,展览馆的方圆则飘扬着别的国家的国旗。“机器馆”发出隆隆的声息;塔上的钟声奏起和睦的音乐。教堂里有风琴在响;东方的咖啡吧飘出混杂着音乐的粗嘎的歌声。那差非常少像一个巴别人的帝国,黄金年代种巴别人的语言⑦,风姿洒脱种世界的奇观。

全套真的是那些样子——关于博览会的电视发表是这么说的。何人未有听过那个报导呢?全体那儿全体有关这么些世界名城的“新的突发性”的座谈,树精都听到过。

“你们那个鸟类啊,飞吧!飞到那儿去拜会,然后再回到告诉自个儿吗!”那是树精的希冀。

这种敬慕扩充成为三个盼望——成为生活的二个主干观念。于是在一个静悄悄的晚间,当天中正在照着的时候,她看见风流罗曼蒂克颗罗睺从明月上落下来了。这Saturn像生龙活虎颗流星似地发着亮。此时有二个尊严、光彩四射的人形在此树前现身——树枝全在动摇,好像有阵子大风吹来似的。那人形用风华正茂种温情而有力的格调,像唤醒人的生命的、催人受审的末尾号角相近,对他说:

“你将到不行可爱的都会里去,你就要那个时候生根,你将会触发到那儿潺潺的水流、空气和太阳,但是你的生命将会浓缩。你在当时田野中所能分享到的层层的时间,将会缩为短短的多少个季节。可怜的树精啊,那将会是你的衰亡!你的景仰将会反复地增大,你的渴望将会一天一天地变得确定!那棵树将会成为您的一个看守所。你将会相差你的住处,你将会退换您的特性,你将会飞走,跟人类混在同步。那个时候您的寿命将会浓缩,减少得唯有蜉蝣的半生那么长——只可以活生机勃勃夜。你的性命的火舌将会藏形匿影,这树的叶子将会退化和被吹走,永恒再也不回去。”

响声在半空中那样响着,引起回音。于是那道亮光就销声敛迹了;不过树精的敬慕和期盼却尚无消失。她在狂喜的热望中颤抖着:

“小编要到那一个世界的名城里去!”她欢呼雀跃地说。“作者的人命开头了。它像密集的云朵;哪个人也不了然它会飘向哪里去。”

在二个荧光色的中午,当明亮的月发白、云块变红的时候,她的愿望完成的任何时候到来了。诺言现在变为了谜底。

超多个人带着铲子和杠子来了。他们在此树的相近挖,挖得很深,一向挖到根底下。于是风流罗曼蒂克辆马拉的自行车开过来了。这树连根带土被抬起来,还包上一块芦席,使它的根能够保持温和。接着,它就被牢牢地系在车里。它要游历到法国首都去,在此个法兰西的Hong Kong,世界的名城里长大。

在自行车最先开动的弹指间,那棵栗树的琐屑都颤抖起来。树精在新婚燕尔的梦想中也颤抖起来。

“去了!去了!”每叁回脉搏都发生那样一个声音。“去了!去了!”那是多个震憾、颤抖的回声。树精忘记了对她的本土、摇曳的草儿和清白的雏菊离别。那几个事物一向把他充作是大家上帝花园里的壹位内人人——一个人扮演牧羊女下乡的公主。

栗树坐在车子上,用它的枝干点头表示“再会”和“去了”的情趣。树精一点也不亮堂这么些事情。她只是愿意着快要在她前面进行的这些奇异而又熟知的事物。没有别的充满了天真幸福感的孩子的心,未有任何充满了自作者陶醉的魂魄,会像她出发到法国首都去时那么,是那么地思绪万端。

“再会!”成为“去了!去了!”

轱辘在不停地打转着;间距收缩了,落在前边。景象在变幻莫测,像云块在变化多端同样。新的蒲陶园、树林、墟落、高档住房和园林跃人视界,又流失了。栗树在向前行,树精也在前进进。火车互相在旁经过或互绝对开。火车的底部吐出黄金年代层烟云。烟云产生种种的印象,好疑似法国巴黎的缩影——轻轨离开了的和树精正在奔赴的法国首都。

他周边的全体知道、相同的时间也必得驾驭,她的游览的目标地。她认为,她所通过的每风姿潇洒棵树都在向他伸出枝子,同时伸手他说;“把笔者带去吧!把自身带去吧!”每后生可畏株树里面也住着壹位怀着渴望心绪的树精。

当成变化莫测!真是急驶如飞!房屋好疑似从地上冒出来的貌似,越冒更加的多,越聚越密。钢筋混凝土烟囱一个接着三个,一排接着一排,罗列在屋顶上,像多数花盆同样。由生龙活虎码多少长度的假名所结合的字,绘在墙上的版画,从墙脚一贯伸到屋檐,射优秀泽。

“法国首都以从什么地区开头的吗?作者如曾几何时候才总算到了法国首都吧?”树精问着本身。

人特别多了,闹声和噪音也强盛了。车子前面随着车子,骑马的人后边跟着步行的人。前后左右全都以信用合作社、音乐、歌声、叫声和讲话声。

坐在树里的树精以后赶到了法国首都的为主。那辆沉重的马拉西亚车在七个小广场上停下来。广场上种满了树。它的方圆全都以些高房屋,并且每一种窗子都有七个平台。阳台上的人瞅着那棵新鲜年轻的栗树;它现在被运来,而且要栽在那,来代表这棵连根拔起的、现在倒在地上的老树。广场上的大家,带着微笑和喜悦的心气,静静地望着那表示青春的金黄。那一个刚刚冒芽的老树,摇曳着它们的牛溲马勃,对它致意:“招待!欢迎!”喷泉向空中射着水,水又哗啦哗啦地达成它分布的池里。它现在叫风儿把它的水点吹到那新来的树上,作为意气风发种迎接的代表。

树精觉获得,她的这株树已经从车子上被抬下来了,何况被栽在它今后的职位上。树根被埋在地里,上边还盖了意气风发层草土。开着花的松木也像那株树相通被栽下来了;四周还内置了超多盆花。这么着,广场的宗旨就应时而生了贰个小小的花园。

那株被煤烟、炊烟和城里一切能够至命的口味所杀死了的、连根拔起的老树,未来棉被服装在马车的里面拖走了。大伙儿在风流倜傥侧看看;儿童和老头坐在草地上的凳子上,望着新栽的树上的绿叶。至于咱们讲那么些传说的人吧,大家站在凉台上,俯视着那株从乡下新鲜空气中运来的后生的树。大家像特别老牧师相仿,也很想说一声:“可怜的树精啊!”

“作者是多么幸福呀!多么幸福呀!”树精说。“然则小编却无法领悟,也不能分解自个儿的这种心思。一切跟自个儿所愿意的是肖似,但也不完全跟自个儿所希望的是风流浪漫致!”

四周的房子都超高,並且很密。唯有一面墙热播着太阳。墙上贴满了招贴和广告。大家站在它前边看,而且人越集越来越多。轻车和重车从边上开过去。公共马车,像挤满了人的、移动着的屋企,也哗啦哗啦地开过去了。骑在马上的人迈入驰骋;运货汽车和马车也须求有相像的任务。

树精想:那几个挤在一块儿的高房屋,好不佳即时走开,恐怕形成像天上云块那样的事物浮走,以便让他探问法国首都和浪漫之都以外的事物吧?她要看看圣母院、万多姆塔和那件一向引发着超级多观者来参观的神迹。

然而那些屋企却一动也不动。

天尚未曾黑,灯就曾经亮起来了。煤气灯的亮光从公司里和树枝间隐约地射出来。那跟太阳光很某些雷同。星星也出来了——和树精在故里所观望过的大器晚成律的少数。她倍感阵阵荫凉的暖风从个别上吹来,她有一种名贵和强壮的感觉到。她认为他有生机勃勃种技艺,能够考查那棵树的每一片叶子,能够感觉到树根的每三个高端。她以为她活在人的社会风气里,人的和蔼的肉眼在看着他,她的方圆是一片闹声和音乐,色彩和光辉。

从一条侧街里飘来管铁叫子乐和手风琴奏的邀中国风。是的,跳舞吧!跳舞吧!那是叫人快乐和享受生活的音乐。

那是振作振奋人、马、车子、树和屋家跳舞的音乐——假诺她们能跳舞的话。树精的心尖有生龙活虎种狂喜的痛感。

“多么幸福啊!多么美啊!”她欢快地高喊着。“小编前几天是住在法国首都!”

新的小日子、新的晚上和承继到来的新的日子,带来雷同的气象,相符的位移和同等的生存——一切在不停地变幻,但还要又未有不一样。

“现在自身认识那广场上的每生龙活虎棵树,每生龙活虎朵花!作者认知那儿的每风流倜傥幢房子、每五个阳台和厂家。我被平放在那一个自持的角落里,弄得一些也看不见这一个严穆伟大的都会。凯旋门、林荫路和那些世界的奇观在哪些地方啊?那一个事物本人一点也远非看到!作者被关在此些高屋企中间,像在八个看守所里同样。那么些房子我现在记得烂熟:那饱含它们墙上写的字、招贴、广告和总体画出来的糖果——笔者对那么些东西以往并没有另外兴趣。作者所听到、知道和期盼的那多少个东西在怎么着地点呢?笔者是为着那多少个东西到此刻来的哎!小编把握了、获得了和找到了怎么吧?我仍是像往常那么在渴看着。小编曾经触觉到了风度翩翩种生存,小编必需把握住它,小编一定要过这种生活!笔者不得不走进活生生的人群中去。在人群中踊跃;像鸟类同样飞,观看,体验,做一个彻彻底底的人。作者宁愿过半天那样的活着,而不愿在苦闷和雅淡低迈过生平——这种生活使作者感觉恨恶,感觉沉沦,直到最后像草地上的露水似的死灭了。小编要像云块,像生活的阳光同样有荣誉,像云块相通可以知道任何事物,像云块同样运行——运营到哪个人也不清楚的地点去!”

那是树精的叫苦不迭。那叹息声升到空间,产生二个弥撒:

“请把自家一生的小时拿去吧!作者只供给一定于一个蜉蝣的半生的年华!请把本人从本身的地牢中释放出来吧!请让自家过人的活着吧!哪怕只是曾几何时,只是大器晚成晚间都足以!哪怕作者的这种乐于助人和对生活的期盼会促成惩罚都能够!让自家获得自由吧,哪怕作者的那些房屋——那棵新鲜而年轻的树——萎谢、凋零、形成灰烬、被风吹得未有都能够!”

树枝发出阵阵沙沙的动静。生机勃勃种痒酥酥的认为到通过它的每一片叶子,使它颤抖,好像它当中藏有火花,只怕要迸出火花似的。风姿浪漫阵强风在树顶上拂过去;正在这里时,三个女子的形体现身了——那是树精。她坐在煤气灯照着的。长满了绿叶的枝条上面,年轻而又美貌,像特别特其余玛莉相近——大家曾经对那一个玛莉说过:“那些大城市将会使您摧毁!”

树精坐在这里树的当下。坐在她屋家的门口——她已经把他的门锁了,何况把钥匙也扔掉了。她是这样年轻,这么雅观!星星见到了他,对她眨着双眼!煤气灯见到了他,对他嫣然含笑,对她招手!她是何等纤弱,但还要又是何其健康啊!她是贰个男女,但与此相同的时候又是一个常年的孙女。她的服装像缎子相同柔和,像树顶上的新叶相通茶绿。她的红威尼斯绿头发上插着黄金年代朵半开的栗树花。她的面近似春日的美丽的女人。

他静静坐了大器晚成阵子,然后她就跳起来,用羚羊这种轻快的脚步,绕过墙脚就不见了。她跑着,跳着,像一面在太阳光里活动着的近视镜所射出的伟大。如若一人能够稳重地观察一下旁观实际的情景,他将会认为多么奇异啊!无论什么样时候,只要她生龙活虎停下脚步,她的服装和形体的光彩,就能趁机他所在的地点的特点和射在他身上的灯的亮光的颜料而退换。

他走上了林荫大道。路灯、商店和咖啡馆所射出的煤气电灯的光形成一个光的海域。年轻而瘦削的树在此儿成行地立着,各自爱抚着和谐的树精,使她无须受那个人工阳光的加害。无穷尽的走廊,看起来像贰个壮烈的餐厅:桌上摆着有滋有味的食物——从香摈酒和荨麻酒平昔到咖啡和红酒。那儿还会有花、美术、雕像、书籍和各个颜色布料的展览。

他从这几个高房子上边的人群中,向树下可怕的人工子宫打碎展望:急驶的马车,单马拉着的篷车、小车、公共马车、出租汽车马车,骑马的乡绅和升华的武装部队合起来变成一股风潮。要想走到对面包车型大巴便道上简直是相等冒生命的高危。一须臾间灯的亮光变蓝,转眼间煤气灯发出猛烈的闪耀,一瞬间火箭向高空射去:它是从哪处来的,射到何以地方去了啊?

诚然,这便是世界名城的马拉西亚路!

那会儿有和平的意国音乐,有响板伴奏着的西班牙王国(The Kingdom of Spain)歌曲。可是那扑灭一切的皇皇响声是三个八音盘所奏出的流行音乐——这种激情人的“康康”音乐⑧连奥尔菲斯⑨也不知晓,美貌的Hellen⑩简直未有听到过。固然独轮车能够跳舞的话,它大概也要在它不行独轮子上跳起舞来了。树精在舞蹈,在旋转,在飞舞,像太阳中的蜂鸟⑾相仿在转移着颜色,因为每意气风发幢房屋和它的在这之中都在她身上反射了出去。

像生机勃勃棵从根拔断了的鲜艳的水旦在顺水飘流肖似,树精也被那人潮卷走了。她每到叁个地点就变出二个新的形象;因而何人也未尝艺术追随他,认出他,甚至观察他。

任何事物像云块所造成的各个幻象,在她身旁飘过去了,可是一张张人脸,哪三个她也不认得:她一向不见到过此外三个源于他家门的人。她的商讨中亮着两颗明亮的眼珠子:她纪念了玛莉——可怜的玛莉!这一个黑发上戴着红花的、衣衫槛楼的男女,她几近些日子就在这里个华丽富贵、令人目眩神迷的社会风气名城里,正如她坐在车子里经过牧师的房间、树精的树和那棵老栎树的时候雷同。

准确,她就在那时——在那时候震人耳鼓的闹声中。可能他刚巧才从停在这里个时候的风华正茂辆美貌马车的里面走出去啊。这几个宝贵的马车都有身穿有次序克服的马夫和穿着丝袜的下人。车的里面走下来的全都是些服装华丽的少姑婆人。她们走进敞着的格子门,走上宽敞的、通向多少个有东营石圆柱的构筑物的高梯。恐怕那就是“世界的奇观”吧?玛莉一定在这个时候!

“圣母玛莉亚!”里面有人在唱着圣诗,香烟在伟大的、色彩分明的、镀金的拱门下缭绕,产生风度翩翩种昏暗的气氛。

这是玛德兰教堂。

上流社会的老婆人,穿着最盛行的料子所做的黑洋服,在光滑的地板上轻轻地迈过。族徽在用棉布精装的祈祷书的银扣子上射出来,也在缀有难得的多伦多大洋的花香的丝手帕上暴光面。有些人在祭坛前边静静地跪着祈祷,某个人在向忏悔室走去。

树精以为大器晚成种动荡和谐惊恐,好像她走进了贰个他不应该参加的场子似的。那是四个寂静之家,二个私人商品房的大殿。一切话语都以用低声、或然在沉默的亲信中透表露来的。

树精把团结用棉布和面纱打扮起来,在外表上跟其他丰足女生并未差别。她们每人是不是像他一样,也是“渴望”的赤子呢?

那会儿空中发出贰个优伤的、深沉的叹息声。那是由忏悔室那多少个角落传来的吗,照旧由树精的胸中发出来的?她把面纱拉下一点。她吸了一口教堂的香烟——不是非常的空气。那儿不是她渴望之处。

去吧!去吧!软磨硬泡地飞翔吧!蜉蝣是从未有过小憩的。飞翔正是它的活着!

他又到外围来了;她是在喷泉旁的炫人眼目标煤气灯上面。“全数的湍流都洗不净在这里时代风尚过的、无辜的鲜血。”

他听到了如此一句话。

不知凡几外人站在此儿高声地、兴缓筌漓地议论着。在十三分神秘的深宫里——树精正是从这里来的——何人也不敢这样说道。

一块大石板被翻起来了,何况还被竖立来了。她不精通这件业务;她看到通到地底层的一条宽路。大家从知情的星空,从太阳相符煤气电灯的光,从全部活跃的生命中走到这条路上来。

“作者恐惧那情景!”站在此时候的二个女孩子说。“作者不敢走下去!小编也不乐意看那时的艳丽之处!请陪着本人吗!”

“要回去!”男生说。“离开了法国巴黎而未有看那最佳奇的事物——一个人凭他的资质和意志所创制出来的、今世的实在奇迹!”

“小编不愿意走下去,”那是三个回复。

“今世的突发性!”大家说。树精听到了那话,也晓得它的意趣。她的最大的热望已经达到了指标。伸向法国巴黎的地底层的人口就在这刻。她根本未有想到过那事情,可是现在她却听到了,看见不少外人朝上面走。于是她就接着她们走。

螺旋形的楼梯是铁做的,既宽大,又便于。下边点着生机勃勃盏灯,更下边一点还会有另风流倜傥盏灯。

那个时候简直正是五个迷宫,里面有成千上万的大殿和拱形长廊,互相交叉着。法国首都持有的马路和小巷那儿都得以看得见,好疑似在二个模糊的镜子里同样。你能够观望它们的名字;每风度翩翩幢房屋都有二个门牌——它的墙基伸到一条石铺的、空洞的小径上。那条羊肠小道沿着一条填满了泥土的宽运河打开开去。那上边正是运送清水的引水槽;再上面就悬着网风度翩翩致的煤气管和电线。远处有为数不菲灯在射出光来,很像这么些世界的城邑的反影。大家平时能够听见头上有隆隆声;那是桥上面开过去的载重车辆。

树精到如何地方去了吧?

你听到过地下的墓窖吧?比起这一个不法的新世界,那些现代的偶尔——这么些法国巴黎的暗沟来,它正是小巫见大巫了。树精就在这里儿,而不在这里个马尔斯广场上的世界交易会里。

他听到惊喜、艳羡和赏鉴的欢呼声。

“从那地层的深处,”大家说,“上边数以万计的人获取正常和长寿!我们的时期是几个向上的时期,具备那几个时期的整套幸福。”

那是人的眼光和言谈,但不是生在那时候和住在当时的那贰个生物——耗子——的视角或言谈。它们从意气风发堵旧墙的分裂里发生吱吱的叫声,特别明白,连树精都能够听懂。

那是一只相当的大的公耗子,它的漏洞被咬掉了;它用逆耳的响动把它的心绪、优伤和内心的话都叫出来。它的宗族对它所说的每一种字都表示帮助。

“小编看不惯这个声音,那些人类的放屁,这么些毫无意义的口舌!是的,那儿极好看貌,有煤气,有汽油!不过自个儿不吃那类的事物!那儿以后变得这么干净和光明,我们不知道怎么了,不禁对协和深感可耻起来。大家唯愿活在蜡烛的时代里!这一个时期离我们并不超远!那是一个肉麻的大器晚成世——大家都那样说。”

“你在讲怎么话?”树精说。“小编过去并从未见到过你。你在讲些什么事物?”

“小编在讲那个过去的吉日,”耗子说,“伯公和奶奶耗未时代的吉日!那时到那地下去才是生机勃勃件了不起的事情啊。那个时候的老鼠窝比全部的香水之都都好!鼠疫阿娘就住在那时。她杀死人,却不杀死耗子。强盗和贩卖走私货色贩子能够在这时候自由呼吸。那儿是超多最风趣的职员的避乱所——今后只有在上边剧院的内容剧中手艺看出的那一位物。大家耗子窝里最妖媚的时代也曾经过去了;大家这个时候今后有了新鲜空气和柴油。”

老鼠发出如此吱吱的喊叫声!它反驳新时代,赞叹鼠疫母亲那个过去了的日子。

大器晚成辆车子停在此儿,那是由高速的小马拖着的生机勃勃种敞篷马车。这风度翩翩对人坐进去,在违规的费尔南多Stowe波尔大道上海飞机创设厂驰起来。下边便是这全体相像名字的法国巴黎马来亚路,挤满了客人。

马车在淡淡的的光中没有了。树精也升到煤气光二月格外自由的空气中流失了。她不是在地下那贰个交叉的拱形走廊里和窒息的空气中,而是在那时见到了世道的奇观——她在此短小生机勃勃夜生命中所追寻的奇观。它定会发出比一切煤气灯还要鲜明的光来——比从天空滑过去的月球还要显明的光来。

是的,一点也不错!她见到它就在此,它在他前边射出光来。它闪耀着,像天上的太白星。

他看见叁个闪耀的门,向三个充斥了光和舞曲的小公园开着。小而平静的人造湖和水池边亮着五颜六色的煤气灯。用弯盘曲曲的花花绿绿锡箔所剪成的水草反射出闪光,同一时间从它们的花瓣儿里喷出风度翩翩码多高的水来。雅观的倒插旱柳——真正春季的倒插科柳——垂着它们非常的枝干,像一片透明而又能遮面包车型大巴绿面纱。

在这里时候的松木林中烧起了一批黄火。它的丁卯革命火焰照着少年老成座小巧的、半暗的、静寂的花亭。富有鼓舞的音乐颠簸着耳膜,使血液在人的身躯里激动和奔流。

她见到众多美貌的、盛装夏装的常青妇女;那几个女子脸上展示天真的微笑和青春的喜悦。还会有壹个人名称为玛莉的幼女;她头上戴着刺客,不过她却未曾马车和车夫。她们在那地尽情地狂舞,飘飞,旋转!好像“塔兰得拉舞”⑿激情着她们常常,她们跳着,笑着。她们感觉说不出地甜蜜,她们打算拥抱整个的社会风气。

树精感觉自个儿不行抗拒地被吸引到那狂舞中去了。她的一双小巧的脚穿着一双绸子做的鞋。鞋的水彩是深洋红的,跟飘在她的头发和他的暴露的双肩之间的那条缎带的颜料完全部是生龙活虎律。她那绿绸衫有众多大折叠,在上空飘摇,可是遮不住她花容月貌的腿和细细的脚。那双脚好疑似要在她的舞伴头上绘出奇妙的世界。

莫非她是在阿尔米达的魔花园里面吗?那块地点的名字叫什么吗?

外边的煤气电灯的光中照出如此二个名字:

玛壁尔

音乐的调子、击手声、放焰火声、潺潺的水声、开香槟酒的砰膨声,都混在一块,舞跳得像酒醉似的疯狂。在这里一切上边是生机勃勃轮明月——无疑地它做出了贰个怪脸。天空是澄静的,未有点云。大家就好像能够从玛壁尔平素看见天上。

树精全身认为大器晚成种使人疲劳的陶醉,好像吸食雅片过后的这种昏沉。

他的眼睛在开口,她的嘴唇在言语,不过笛子和提琴的音响把她的话语都肃清了。她的舞伴在她的耳边嘀咕,那低语跟康康舞的音乐节奏在一同颤抖。她听不懂那几个私语;大家也听不懂这个私语。他把手向她伸过来,抱着他,但他所抱着的却是透明的、充满了煤气的氛围。

气流托着树精浮走了,正如风把一片徘徊花瓣托着平等。她在太空上,在塔顶上,看见贰个火花,风姿罗曼蒂克道闪光。三个光辉从她渴望的目标物上射出来,从Mars广场的“一纸空文”的灯塔上射出来。春日的和风把她吹向那儿;她绕着那塔飞。工大家以为他们所见到的是壹只蝴蝶在回退,在死去——因为它来得太早了。

月亮在照着,煤气灯和灯笼在厅堂里,在散在大街小巷的“万国馆”里照着,照着那多少个起伏的草坪和人的灵气所创造的巨石——“无血受人珍惜的人”使瀑布从那地点倾泻下来。海的深处和淡水的深处——鱼儿的环球——都在这个时候展览出来了。你在四个潜水钟里,能够假造本人是在深刻的池底,是在海底。水从所在向那厚玻璃壁压过来,六英尺多少长度的珊瑚虫,柔柔曼卷曲得像田鰻同样,抖着它身上的活刺,正在内外蠕动,同时紧凑地贴着海底。

它边缘有一条特大的偏口鱼:那条鱼舒舒服性格很顽强在山高水险或巨大压力面前不屈地躺着,好像有所思的标准。二只石蟹像二只庞大的蜘蛛在它身上爬;虾子在它周边不停地连忙,好像它们是海底的胡蝶和飞蛾。

淡水里长着无数睡莲、菅茅和水灯心。金河鲫鱼像原野里的品绿公牛相像,都排成队,把头掉向同叁个侧向,好让水潮可以流进它们的嘴里。又肥又粗的梭鱼呆呆地睁着它们的大双眼瞅着玻璃墙。它们都知晓,它们未来是在法国巴黎博览会里。它们也晓得,它们以前在盛满了水的桶里,做过后生可畏段很艰巨的参观;它们已经在铁路上晕过车,正如人在海上晕船同样。它们是来看那博览会的,而它们也就在它们的淡水或咸水缸里看到了:它们见到人群从早到晚不停地流淌。世界各个国家送来了和展览了她们不等的人种,使那么些梭鱼、鲫拐子、活泼的花鲈和长满青苔的鲤拐子都能看看那个生物和对那一个种族表示一点观念。

“他们全都是些有壳的生物体!”一条粘糊糊的小毛子说。“他们一天换两一遍壳,並且用他们的嘴发出声音——他们把那称为‘讲话’。大家只是怎么也不换,我们有更便于的点子使大家可以互相精通:把嘴角动一下,恐怕把眼睛瞪一下就得了!大家有无数地方要比人类高明得多!”

“他们只是学会了游泳。”一条小淡水鱼说。“笔者是从二个大湖里来的。那儿人类在热天里钻进水里去。他们先把壳脱掉,然后再游泳。游泳是青蛙教给他们的。他们用后腿蹬,用前腿划。他们协助不断多久。他们倒很想模仿大家啊,可是她们学得一些也不像。可怜的人类啊!”

鱼类们都瞪着双目。它们认为这儿拥挤着的人流仍然为它们在大千世界的太阳里所见到的那壹个人。是的,它们相信那依旧是那多少个第一遍震动了它们的所谓感到神经的人形。

一条身上长有美貌的条纹和有一个值得艳羡的肥背的小鲫瓜子,说它依旧能够看来“人泥”。

“小编也见到了,看得不得了精晓!”一条黄拐子说。“笔者知道地看见一个个头雅观的人形——三个‘高腿的姑娘’——随意你如何叫他啊。她有我们这么的嘴和一双瞪着的眼眸;她前面有五个珠光球,前边挂着豆蔻梢头把伞,身上丁丁当当悬着一大堆海草。她很想把那一个事物都投向,像大家风姿罗曼蒂克致地重返自然。她很想在人类所及的节制内,做一条有身份的鲤拐子。”

“那叁个被拉在鱼钩上的人——那么些男士——在做些什么呢?”

“他坐在叁个轮椅上。他手下有纸、笔和学术;他把什么都写下来。他在做如何吗?大家把他称之为采访者。”

”他照样坐在轮椅上跑来跑去!”一条全身长满了青苔的毛子老小姐说。她的喉咙里塞满了社会风气的困顿辛勤,由此他的响声有个别沙哑。她曾有一遍吞过贰个鱼钩,她依然把它带在喉咙里很有耐性地游来游去。

“多个报社采访者,”她说,“用鱼的言语讲老实话,那正是人类中间的孝鱼⒀!”

鱼儿们都谈出了友好的风姿罗曼蒂克套意见。然而在这个人造的水晶洞里叮当了一片槌子声和工人的歌声。那个工友必须要在夜间做工,好使任何能在最短的时光内完毕,他们的歌声在树精的天中夜之梦之中发生回响——她站在那时,图谋飞翔和消失。

“那都以金月鲫仔类!”她说,同有的时候候对它们点点头。“笔者到底看见你们了!笔者认知你们!我已经认识你们!燕子在自家家里讲过你们的轶闻。你们是多么美,多么显明,多么可爱呀!笔者能够把你们每一人都吻一下!笔者也认知别的鱼!那些鲜明是胖胖的梭鱼,那多少个一定是精彩的头鱼,那儿一定是长满了青苔的老黄河鲤鱼!作者认知你们,可是你们却不认得作者!”

鱼类呆呆地望着,一个字也听不懂。它们向那稀薄的微光看着。树精已经不在此儿了。她生机勃勃度到来外面。从多个国家运来的“奇花”在那刻发出独特的香馥馥——从黑面包的国度来的,从鳄鱼的海岸来的,从产皮革的俄罗丝来的,从德意志联邦共和国生产柯龙香水的河岸来的,从产徘徊花精的东方国家里来的。

晚间的晚会截止之后,大家在半睡的景况中乘着脚踩车回来了。音乐依然清晰地在我们的耳根里爆发回音;大家照旧能够听到每一个调子;我们可以把它们哼出来。多个被暗害者的眼睛能够把最终大器晚成刹那间所看见的事物保留生龙活虎段时间;同样,白天拥堵的情形和骄矜,也映在夜的眼底。那既不可能被接到,也不可能被铲除。树精以为到了这点,她明白,前几天的上上下下意况还是会这么。树精站在幽香的刺客中间。她以为她在故乡就认知那一个花儿,这是御花园和牧师花园里的花,她在那刻还见到了草地绿的若榴木花——玛莉以前在他炭相像黑的毛发上戴过那样大器晚成朵花。

她心中闪过一段纪念——风流浪漫段在墟落老家所走过的小儿的想起。她的热望的双目把方圆的景点望了刹那间,她以为阵阵极端的摄人心魄。这种心绪促使他迈过这些瑰丽的摩天津高校楼。

她认为疲倦。这种疲劳的感觉在不停地增进。她很想在那多少个铺着的垫子和地毯上躺下来,恐怕在岸上的科柳上靠风度翩翩靠,而且纵身跳人那清澈的水中——像倒插杨柳的枝条相通。

唯独蜉蝣是尚未章程休憩的。在几分钟之内,这一天就完了。

他的观念颤抖起来,她的身子也颤抖起来。她躺到潺潺流水旁边的草上。

“你带着一定的性命从土地里流出来!”她说,“请你使我的舌头认为清凉,请你给自家一点鼓舞药呢!”

“笔者并非一条活泉水!”泉水说。“我是靠机器的力量流动的!”

“绿草啊,请把您的别出新裁空气赠一点给笔者吗!”树精必要说。“请给本人风度翩翩朵幽香的花啊!”

“若是大家被折断了,大家就能够离世!”草和花儿一同说。

“清凉的清劲风啊,请您吻本人吧!小编黄金年代旦贰特性命的吻!”

“太阳立刻就能把云块吻得雪青!”风儿说。“那时候您就能走进死人群中去,灭绝了,正如那儿的成套辉煌在此一年从未完成早前就能够消亡一样。这时作者就又足以跟广场上这一个渺小的散沙玩耍,吹起地上的灰尘,吹到空气中去——尘土,四处都以灰尘!”

树精感觉阵阵担惊受怕。她像一个正在洗澡的妇女,把动脉管划开了,不停地流着血,而当她流得正要死的时候,她却照旧希望活下来。她站起来,向前走了几步,最终在三个小学教育堂前面又倒下去了。门是开着的,祭坛上燃着蜡烛,风琴奏出音乐。

多美的音乐呵!树精一向未有听到过这么的笔调,但他在这里些调子中犹如听见了熟谙的响动。那声音是从一切造物的内心深处发出去的。她感到她听到了老栎树的萧萧声;她感到她听到了老牧师在议论着一些了不起的事迹、盛名的名字,商酌着上帝的造物能够何况能够对以往做些什么进献,以求自个儿收获永远的生命。

风琴的调头在半空中盘旋着,用歌声说出那样的话:

“上帝给您一块地点生下根,但你的渴求和期盼却使您拔去了你的根。可怜的树精啊,那促让你消亡!”

和平的风琴声好疑似在哭泣,好疑似在泪水中消除了。

天空暴露红云。风儿在巨响和称颂:“死者啊,走开啊,太阳出来啦!”

头风度翩翩道阳光射在树精的身上。她的形体放射出精彩纷呈的光华,像一个肥皂泡在裂缝,消亡、形成一滴水、黄金年代滴眼泪——生龙活虎达到地上就无影无踪了的泪水。

老大的树精啊!后生可畏滴露水,风流倜傥滴眼泪——超级出来就不见了!

日光照在马尔斯广场的“荒诞不经”上,照在伟大的香水之都上空,照在有成都百货上千树和几个小喷泉的小广场上,照在无数高大的房子上——这几个房子旁边长着风姿浪漫棵栗树。那树的枝条垂下来了,叶子也枯萎了,不过前不久它依然清新向上。生意盎然。像春季的化身。大家说它今后意气风发度死了。树精已经离开了,像云块似地不见了——何人也不领悟她到如哪里方去了。

地上躺着后生可畏朵枯萎了的、残缺的栗树花。教堂里的圣水未有才能使它过来生命。人类的脚不说话就把它踩进尘土。

这一切都以产生过的作业。

咱俩亲眼看到过那几个业务,在1867年的香水之都会展里,在我们那一个时代,在宏大的、古怪的、童话的时日里见到过那一个事业。

①贞德(姬恩ne d'Arc,1412~1431)是法兰西共和国女英豪,曾领导意大利人对英国抗战,后来被比利时人看做巫婆烧死了。

②夏洛·哥戴(CharlotteCorday,1768~1793)是法兰西共和国民代表大会革命时一个女老板,在法兰西共和国大革命中暗杀了这时候的知名外交家、媒体人马拉。

③据传说,这些仙女的子虚乌有,便是大家肉眼所见的一纸空文。

④阿拉丁是《生机勃勃千零生机勃勃夜》中的壹人物。他有三个神灯,他只须把它擦一下,就足以拿走他所企盼的事物,由此他所住的王宫特别富华。

⑤那是放在澳洲和亚洲中间的多个游牧民族。

⑥古斯达夫·瓦萨(GustavVasa)是Sverige瓦萨王朝(1521~1720)的开山。达拉尔是瑞典王国西部的一个地面。这里的公民永葆古斯达夫·瓦萨建设构造那个王朝。

⑦远古的巴外人想建造大器晚成座塔通到天上,上帝为了要阻止他们做那件事就使她们的言语混杂起来,使他们无法相互了然,因此未能协力做完这件工作。“巴旁人的言语”形容言语的插花。事见《圣经·旧约·创世记》第十豆蔻梢头章第四至九节。

⑧这是1830年在香水之都舞场流行的生龙活虎种音乐。

⑨奥尔菲斯是希腊共和国传说中的有名的歌手和音乐师。

⑩古希腊共和国(The Republic of Greece)故事贰个尤物。

⑾蜂鸟(Calibrian)是美洲热带所产的生龙活虎种燕雀。肉体非常的小,羽毛有光,飞时翅膀发出嗡嗡的响声。

⑿那是意大利共和国那不勒斯足球俱乐部的生机勃勃种土风舞,以动作能够著称。

⒀乌棒的原稿是Blaeksprutte,那是由Blaek和Sprutte两字组合的复合字,有双关意义。照字面讲,是“吐墨水的人”,即“黑良心的造谣者”的情致。

英文版:The Dryad

WE are travelling to Paris to the Exhibition.

Now we are there. That was a journey, a flight without magic. We flew on the wings of steam over the sea and across the land.

Yes, our time is the time of fairy tales.

We are in the midst of Paris, in a great hotel. Blooming flowers ornament the staircases, and soft carpets the floors.

Our room is a very cosy one, and through the open balcony door we have a view of a great square. Spring lives down there; it has come to Paris, and arrived at the same time with us. It has come in the shape of a glorious young chestnut tree, with delicate leaves newly opened. How the tree gleams, dressed in its spring garb, before all the other trees in the place! One of these latter had been struck out of the list of living trees. It lies on the ground with roots exposed. On the place where it stood, the young chestnut tree is to be planted, and to flourish.

It still stands towering aloft on the heavy wagon which has brought it this morning a distance of several miles to Paris. For years it had stood there, in the protection of a mighty oak tree, under which the old venerable clergyman had often sat, with children listening to his stories.

The young chestnut tree had also listened to the stories; for the Dryad who lived in it was a child also. She remembered the time when the tree was so little that it only projected a short way above the grass and ferns around. These were as tall as they would ever be; but the tree grew every year, and enjoyed the air and the sunshine, and drank the dew and the rain. Several times it was also, as it must be, well shaken by the wind and the rain; for that is a part of education.

The Dryad rejoiced in her life, and rejoiced in the sunshine, and the singing of the birds; but she was most rejoiced at human voices; she understood the language of men as well as she understood that of animals.

Butterflies, cockchafers, dragon-flies, everything that could fly came to pay a visit. They could all talk. They told of the village, of the vineyard, of the forest, of the old castle with its parks and canals and ponds. Down in the water dwelt also living beings, which, in their way, could fly under the water from one place to another—beings with knowledge and delineation. They said nothing at all; they were so clever!

And the swallow, who had dived, told about the pretty little goldfish, of the thick turbot, the fat brill, and the old carp. The swallow could describe all that very well, but, “Self is the man,” she said. “One ought to see these things one’s self.” But how was the Dryad ever to see such beings? She was obliged to be satisfied with being able to look over the beautiful country and see the busy industry of men.

It was glorious; but most glorious of all when the old clergyman sat under the oak tree and talked of France, and of the great deeds of her sons and daughters, whose names will be mentioned with admiration through all time.

Then the Dryad heard of the shepherd girl, Joan of Arc, and of Charlotte Corday; she heard about Henry the Fourth, and Napoleon the First; she heard names whose echo sounds in the hearts of the people.

The village children listened attentively, and the Dryad no less attentively; she became a school-child with the rest. In the clouds that went sailing by she saw, picture by picture, everything that she heard talked about. The cloudy sky was her picture-book.

She felt so happy in beautiful France, the fruitful land of genius, with the crater of freedom. But in her heart the sting remained that the bird, that every animal that could fly, was much better off than she. Even the fly could look about more in the world, far beyond the Dryad’s horizon.

France was so great and so glorious, but she could only look across a little piece of it. The land stretched out, world-wide, with vineyards, forests and great cities. Of all these Paris was the most splendid and the mightiest. The birds could get there; but she, never!

Among the village children was a little ragged, poor girl, but a pretty one to look at. She was always laughing or singing and twining red flowers in her black hair.

“Don’t go to Paris!” the old clergyman warned her. “Poor child! if you go there, it will be your ruin.”

But she went for all that.

The Dryad often thought of her; for she had the same wish, and felt the same longing for the great city.

The Dryad’s tree was bearing its first chestnut blossoms; the birds wereround them in the most beautiful sunshine. Then a stately carriage came rolling along that way, and in it sat a grand lady driving the spirited, light-footed horses. On the back seat a little smart groom balanced himself. The Dryad knew the lady, and the old clergyman knew her also. He shook his head gravely when he saw her, and said:

“So you went there after all, and it was your ruin, poor Mary!”

“That one poor?” thought the Dryad. “No; she wears a dress fit for a countess” (she had become one in the city of magic changes). “Oh, if I were only there, amid all the splendor and pomp! They shine up into the very clouds at night; when I look up, I can tell in what direction the town lies.”

Towards that direction the Dryad looked every evening. She saw in the dark night the gleaming cloud on the horizon; in the clear moonlight nights she missed the sailing clouds, which showed her pictures of the city and pictures from history.

The child grasps at the picture-books, the Dryad grasped at the cloud-world, her thought-book. A sudden, cloudless sky was for her a blank leaf; and for several days she had only had such leaves before her.

It was in the warm summer-time: not a breeze moved through the glowing hot days. Every leaf, every flower, lay as if it were torpid, and the people seemed torpid, too.

Then the clouds arose and covered the region round about where the gleaming mist announced “Here lies Paris.”

The clouds piled themselves up like a chain of mountains, hurried on through the air, and spread themselves abroad over the whole landscape, as far as the Dryad’s eye could reach.

Like enormous blue-black blocks of rock, the clouds lay piled over one another. Gleams of lightning shot forth from them.

“These also are the servants of the Lord God,” the old clergyman had said. And there came a bluish dazzling flash of lightning, a lighting up as if of the sun itself, which could burst blocks of rock asunder. The lightning struck and split to the roots the old venerable oak. The crown fell asunder. It seemed as if the tree were stretching forth its arms to clasp the messengers of the light.

No bronze cannon can sound over the land at the birth of a royal child as the thunder sounded at the death of the old oak. The rain streamed down; a refreshing wind was blowing; the storm had gone by, and there was quite a holiday glow on all things. The old clergyman spoke a few words for honorable remembrance, and a painter made a drawing, as a lasting record of the tree.

“Everything passes away,” said the Dryad, “passes away like a cloud, and never comes back!”

The old clergyman, too, did not come back. The green roof of his school was gone, and his teaching-chair had vanished. The children did not come; but autumn came, and winter came, and then spring also. In all this change of seasons the Dryad looked toward the region where, at night, Paris gleamed with its bright mist far on the horizon.

Forth from the town rushed engine after engine, train after train, whistling and screaming at all hours in the day. In the evening, towards midnight, at daybreak, and all the day through, came the trains. Out of each one, and into each one, streamed people from the country of every king. A new wonder of the world had summoned them to Paris.

In what form did this wonder exhibit itself?

“A splendid blossom of art and industry,” said one, “has unfolded itself in the Champ de Mars, a gigantic sunflower, from whose petals one can learn geography and statistics, and can become as wise as a lord mayor, and raise one’s self to the level of art and poetry, and study the greatness and power of the various lands.”

“A fairy tale flower,” said another, “a many-colored lotus-plant, which spreads out its green leaves like a velvet carpet over the sand. The opening spring has brought it forth, the summer will see it in all its splendor, the autumn winds will sweep it away, so that not a leaf, not a fragment of its root shall remain.”

In front of the Military School extends in time of peace the arena of war—a field without a blade of grass, a piece of sandy steppe, as if cut out of the Desert of Africa, where Fata Morgana displays her wondrous airy castles and hanging gardens. In the Champ de Mars, however, these were to be seen more splendid, more wonderful than in the East, for human art had converted the airy deceptive scenes into reality.

“The Aladdin’s Palace of the present has been built,” it was said. “Day by day, hour by hour, it unfolds more of its wonderful splendor.”

The endless halls shine in marble and many colors. “Master Bloodless” here moves his limbs of steel and iron in the great circular hall of machinery. Works of art in metal, in stone, in Gobelins tapestry, announce the vitality of mind that is stirring in every land. Halls of paintings, splendor of flowers, everything that mind and skill can create in the workshop of the artisan, has been placed here for show. Even the memorials of ancient days, out of old graves and turf-moors, have appeared at this general meeting.

The overpowering great variegated whole must be divided into small portions, and pressed together like a plaything, if it is to be understood and described.

Like a great table on Christmas Eve, the Champ de Mars carried a wonder-castle of industry and art, and around this knickknacks from all countries had been ranged, knickknacks on a grand scale, for every nation found some remembrance of home.

Here stood the royal palace of Egypt, there the caravanserai of the desert land. The Bedouin had quitted his sunny country, and hastened by on his camel. Here stood the Russian stables, with the fiery glorious horses of the steppe. Here stood the simple straw-thatched dwelling of the Danish peasant, with the Dannebrog flag, next to Gustavus Vasa’s wooden house from Dalarne, with its wonderful carvings. American huts, English cottages, French pavilions, kiosks, theatres, churches, all strewn around, and between them the fresh green turf, the clear springing water, blooming bushes, rare trees, hothouses, in which one might fancy one’s self transported into the tropical forest; whole gardens brought from Damascus, and blooming under one roof. What colors, what fragrance!

Artificial grottoes surrounded bodies of fresh or salt water, and gave a glimpse into the empire of the fishes; the visitor seemed to wander at the bottom of the sea, among fishes and polypi.

“All this,” they said, “the Champ de Mars offers;” and around the great richly-spread table the crowd of human beings moves like a busy swarm of ants, on foot or in little carriages, for not all feet are equal to such a fatiguing journey.

Hither they swarm from morning till late in the evening. Steamer after steamer, crowded with people, glides down the Seine. The number of carriages is continually on the increase. The swarm of people on foot and on horseback grows more and more dense. Carriages and omnibuses are crowded, stuffed and embroidered with people. All these tributary streams flow in one direction—towards the Exhibition. On every entrance the flag of France is displayed; around the world’s bazaar wave the flags of all nations. There is a humming and a murmuring from the hall of the machines; from the towers the melody of the chimes is heard; with the tones of the organs in the churches mingle the hoarse nasal songs from the cafés of the East. It is a kingdom of Babel, a wonder of the world!

In very truth it was. That’s what all the reports said, and who did not hear them? The Dryad knew everything that is told here of the new wonder in the city of cities.

“Fly away, ye birds! fly away to see, and then come back and tell me,” said the Dryad.

The wish became an intense desire—became the one thought of a life. Then, in the quiet silent night, while the full moon was shining, the Dryad saw a spark fly out of the moon’s disc, and fall like a shooting star. And before the tree, whose leaves waved to and fro as if they were stirred by a tempest, stood a noble, mighty, and grand figure. In tones that were at once rich and strong, like the trumpet of the Last Judgment bidding farewell to life and summoning to the great account, it said:

“Thou shalt go to the city of magic; thou shalt take root there, and enjoy the mighty rushing breezes, the air and the sunshine there. But the time of thy life shall then be shortened; the line of years that awaited thee here amid the free nature shall shrink to but a small tale. Poor Dryad! It shall be thy destruction. Thy yearning and longing will increase, thy desire will grow more stormy, the tree itself will be as a prison to thee, thou wilt quit thy cell and give up thy nature to fly out and mingle among men. Then the years that would have belonged to thee will be contracted to half the span of the ephemeral fly, that lives but a day: one night, and thy life-taper shall be blown out—the leaves of the tree will wither and be blown away, to become green never again!”

Thus the words sounded. And the light vanished away, but not the longing of the Dryad. She trembled in the wild fever of expectation.

“I shall go there!” she cried, rejoicingly. “Life is beginning and swells like a cloud; nobody knows whither it is hastening.”

When the gray dawn arose and the moon turned pale and the clouds were tinted red, the wished-for hour struck. The words of promise were fulfilled.

People appeared with spades and poles; they dug round the roots of the tree, deeper and deeper, and beneath it. A wagon was brought out, drawn by many horses, and the tree was lifted up, with its roots and the lumps of earth that adhered to them; matting was placed around the roots, as though the tree had its feet in a warm bag. And now the tree was lifted on the wagon and secured with chains. The journey began—the journey to Paris. There the tree was to grow as an ornament to the city of French glory.

The twigs and the leaves of the chestnut tree trembled in the first moments of its being moved; and the Dryad trembled in the pleasurable feeling of expectation.

“Away! away!” it sounded in every beat of her pulse. “Away! away” sounded in words that flew trembling along. The Dryad forgot to bid farewell to the regions of home; she thought not of the waving grass and of the innocent daisies, which had looked up to her as to a great lady, a young Princess playing at being a shepherdess out in the open air.

The chestnut tree stood upon the wagon, and nodded his branches; whether this meant “farewell” or “forward,” the Dryad knew not; she dreamed only of the marvellous new things, that seemed yet so familiar, and that were to unfold themselves before her. No child’s heart rejoicing in innocence—no heart whose blood danced with passion—had set out on the journey to Paris more full of expectation than she.

Her “farewell” sounded in the words “Away! away!”

The wheels turned; the distant approached; the present vanished. The region was changed, even as the clouds change. New vineyards, forests, villages, villas appeared—came nearer—vanished!

The chestnut tree moved forward, and the Dryad went with it. Steam-engine after steam-engine rushed past, sending up into the air vapory clouds, that formed figures which told of Paris, whence they came, and whither the Dryad was going.

Everything around knew it, and must know whither she was bound. It seemed to her as if every tree she passed stretched out its leaves towards her, with the prayer—“Take me with you! take me with you!” for every tree enclosed a longing Dryad.

What changes during this flight! Houses seemed to be rising out of the earth—more and more—thicker and thicker. The chimneys rose like flower-pots ranged side by side, or in rows one above the other, on the roofs. Great inscriptions in letters a yard long, and figures in various colors, covering the walls from cornice to basement, came brightly out.

“Where does Paris begin, and when shall I be there?” asked the Dryad.

The crowd of people grew; the tumult and the bustle increased; carriage followed upon carriage; people on foot and people on horseback were mingled together; all around were shops on shops, music and song, crying and talking.

The Dryad, in her tree, was now in the midst of Paris. The great heavy wagon all at once stopped on a little square planted with trees. The high houses around had all of them balconies to the windows, from which the inhabitants looked down upon the young fresh chestnut tree, which was coming to be planted here as a substitute for the dead tree that lay stretched on the ground.

The passers-by stood still and smiled in admiration of its pure vernal freshness. The older trees, whose buds were still closed, whispered with their waving branches, “Welcome! welcome!” The fountain, throwing its jet of water high up in the air, to let it fall again in the wide stone basin, told the wind to sprinkle the new-comer with pearly drops, as if it wished to give him a refreshing draught to welcome him.

The Dryad felt how her tree was being lifted from the wagon to be placed in the spot where it was to stand. The roots were covered with earth, and fresh turf was laid on top. Blooming shrubs and flowers in pots were ranged around; and thus a little garden arose in the square.

The tree that had been killed by the fumes of gas, the steam of kitchens, and the bad air of the city, was put upon the wagon and driven away. The passers-by looked on. Children and old men sat upon the bench, and looked at the green tree. And we who are telling this story stood upon a balcony, and looked down upon the green spring sight that had been brought in from the fresh country air, and said, what the old clergyman would have said, “Poor Dryad!”

“I am happy! I am happy!” the Dryad cried, rejoicing; “and yet I cannot realize, cannot describe what I feel. Everything is as I fancied it, and yet as I did not fancy it.”

The houses stood there, so lofty, so close! The sunlight shone on only one of the walls, and that one was stuck over with bills and placards, before which the people stood still; and this made a crowd.

Carriages rushed past, carriages rolled past; light ones and heavy ones mingled together. Omnibuses, those over-crowded moving houses, came rattling by; horsemen galloped among them; even carts and wagons asserted their rights.

The Dryad asked herself if these high-grown houses, which stood so close around her, would not remove and take other shapes, like the clouds in the sky, and draw aside, so that she might cast a glance into Paris, and over it. Notre Dame must show itself, the Vendme Column, and the wondrous building which had called and was still calling so many strangers to the city.

But the houses did not stir from their places. It was yet day when the lamps were lit. The gas-jets gleamed from the shops, and shone even into the branches of the trees, so that it was like sunlight in summer. The stars above made their appearance, the same to which the Dryad had looked up in her home. She thought she felt a clear pure stream of air which went forth from them. She felt herself lifted up and strengthened, and felt an increased power of seeing through every leaf and through every fibre of the root. Amid all the noise and the turmoil, the colors and the lights, she knew herself watched by mild eyes.

From the side streets sounded the merry notes of fiddles and wind instruments. Up! to the dance, to the dance! to jollity and pleasure! that was their invitation. Such music it was, that horses, carriages, trees, and houses would have danced, if they had known how. The charm of intoxicating delight filled the bosom of the Dryad.

“How glorious, how splendid it is!” she cried, rejoicingly. “Now I am in Paris!”

The next day that dawned, the next night that fell, offered the same spectacle, similar bustle, similar life; changing, indeed, yet always the same; and thus it went on through the sequence of days.

“Now I know every tree, every flower on the square here! I know every house, every balcony, every shop in this narrow cut-off corner, where I am denied the sight of this great mighty city. Where are the arches of triumph, the Boulevards, the wondrous building of the world? I see nothing of all this. As if shut up in a cage, I stand among the high houses, which I now know by heart, with their inscriptions, signs, and placards; all the painted confectionery, that is no longer to my taste. Where are all the things of which I heard, for which I longed, and for whose sake I wanted to come hither? what have I seized, found, won? I feel the same longing I felt before; I feel that there is a life I should wish to grasp and to experience. I must go out into the ranks of living men, and mingle among them. I must fly about like a bird. I must see and feel, and become human altogether. I must enjoy the one half-day, instead of vegetating for years in every-day sameness and weariness, in which I become ill, and at last sink and disappear like the dew on the meadows. I will gleam like the cloud, gleam in the sunshine of life, look out over the whole like the cloud, and pass away like it, no one knoweth whither.”

Thus sighed the Dryad; and she prayed:

“Take from me the years that were destined for me, and give me but half of the life of the ephemeral fly! Deliver me from my prison! Give me human life, human happiness, only a short span, only the one night, if it cannot be otherwise; and then punish me for my wish to live, my longing for life! Strike me out of thy list. Let my shell, the fresh young tree, wither, or be hewn down, and burnt to ashes, and scattered to all the winds!”

A rustling went through the leaves of the tree; there was a trembling in each of the leaves; it seemed as if fire streamed through it. A gust of wind shook its green crown, and from the midst of that crown a female figure came forth. In the same moment she was sitting beneath the brightly-illuminated leafy branches, young and beautiful to behold, like poor Mary, to whom the clergyman had said, “The great city will be thy destruction.”

The Dryad sat at the foot of the tree—at her house door, which she had locked, and whose key had thrown away. So young! so fair! The stars saw her, and blinked at her. The gas-lamps saw her, and gleamed and beckoned to her. How delicate she was, and yet how blooming!—a child, and yet a grown maiden! Her dress was fine as silk, green as the freshly-opened leaves on the crown of the tree; in her nut-brown hair clung a half-opened chestnut blossom. She looked like the Goddess of Spring.

For one short minute she sat motionless; then she sprang up, and, light as a gazelle, she hurried away. She ran and sprang like the reflection from the mirror that, carried by the sunshine, is cast, now here, now there. Could any one have followed her with his eyes, he would have seen how marvellously her dress and her form changed, according to the nature of the house or the place whose light happened to shine upon her.

She reached the Boulevards. Here a sea of light streamed forth from the gas-flames of the lamps, the shops and the cafés. Here stood in a row young and slender trees, each of which concealed its Dryad, and gave shade from the artificial sunlight. The whole vast pavement was one great festive hall, where covered tables stood laden with refreshments of all kinds, from champagne and Chartreuse down to coffee and beer. Here was an exhibition of flowers, statues, books, and colored stuffs.

From the crowd close by the lofty houses she looked forth over the terrific stream beyond the rows of trees. Yonder heaved a stream of rolling carriages, cabriolets, coaches, omnibuses, cabs, and among them riding gentlemen and marching troops. To cross to the opposite shore was an undertaking fraught with danger to life and limb. Now lanterns shed their radiance abroad; now the gas had the upper hand; suddenly a rocket rises! Whence? Whither?

Here are sounds of soft Italian melodies; yonder, Spanish songs are sung, accompanied by the rattle of the castanets; but strongest of all, and predominating over the rest, the street-organ tunes of the moment, the exciting “Can-Can” music, which Orpheus never knew, and which was never heard by the “Belle Helénè.” Even the barrow was tempted to hop upon one of its wheels.

The Dryad danced, floated, flew, changing her color every moment, like a humming-bird in the sunshine; each house, with the world belonging to it, gave her its own reflections.

As the glowing lotus-flower, torn from its stem, is carried away by the stream, so the Dryad drifted along. Whenever she paused, she was another being, so that none was able to follow her, to recognize her, or to look more closely at her.

Like cloud-pictures, all things flew by her. She looked into a thousand faces, but not one was familiar to her; she saw not a single form from home. Two bright eyes had remained in her memory. She thought of Mary, poor Mary, the ragged merry child, who wore the red flowers in her black hair. Mary was now here, in the world-city, rich and magnificent as in that day when she drove past the house of the old clergyman, and past the tree of the Dryad, the old oak.

Here she was certainly living, in the deafening tumult. Perhaps she had just stepped out of one of the gorgeous carriages in waiting. Handsome equipages, with coachmen in gold braid and footmen in silken hose, drove up. The people who alighted from them were all richly-dressed ladies. They went through the opened gate, and ascended the broad staircase that led to a building resting on marble pillars. Was this building, perhaps, the wonder of the world? There Mary would certainly be found.

“Sancta Maria!” resounded from the interior. Incense floated through the lofty painted and gilded aisles, where a solemn twilight reigned.

It was the Church of the Madeleine.

Clad in black garments of the most costly stuffs, fashioned according to the latest mode, the rich feminine world of Paris glided across the shining pavement. The crests of the proprietors were engraved on silver shields on the velvet-bound prayer-books, and embroidered in the corners of perfumed handkerchiefs bordered with Brussels lace. A few of the ladies were kneeling in silent prayer before the altars; others resorted to the confessionals.

Anxiety and fear took possession of the Dryad; she felt as if she had entered a place where she had no right to be. Here was the abode of silence, the hall of secrets. Everything was said in whispers, every word was a mystery.

The Dryad saw herself enveloped in lace and silk, like the women of wealth and of high birth around her. Had, perhaps, every one of them a longing in her breast, like the Dryad?

A deep, painful sigh was heard. Did it escape from some confessional in a distant corner, or from the bosom of the Dryad? She drew the veil closer around her; she breathed incense, and not the fresh air. Here was not the abiding-place of her longing.

Away! away—a hastening without rest. The ephemeral fly knows not repose, for her existence is flight.

She was out again among the gas candelabra, by a magnificent fountain.

“All its streaming waters are not able to wash out the innocent blood that was spilt here.”

Such were the words spoken. Strangers stood around, carrying on a lively conversation, such as no one would have dared to carry on in the gorgeous hall of secrets whence the Dryad came.

A heavy stone slab was turned and then lifted. She did not understand why. She saw an opening that led into the depths below. The strangers stepped down, leaving the starlit air and the cheerful life of the upper world behind them.

“I am afraid,” said one of the women who stood around, to her husband, “I cannot venture to go down, nor do I care for the wonders down yonder. You had better stay here with me.”

“Indeed, and travel home,” said the man, “and quit Paris without having seen the most wonderful thing of all—the real wonder of the present period, created by the power and resolution of one man!”

“I will not go down for all that,” was the reply.

“The wonder of the present time,” it had been called. The Dryad had heard and had understood it. The goal of her ardent longing had thus been reached, and here was the entrance to it. Down into the depths below Paris? She had not thought of such a thing; but now she heard it said, and saw the strangers descending, and went after them.

The staircase was of cast iron, spiral, broad and easy. Below there burned a lamp, and farther down, another. They stood in a labyrinth of endless halls and arched passages, all communicating with each other. All the streets and lanes of Paris were to be seen here again, as in a dim reflection. The names were painted up; and every, house above had its number down here also, and struck its roots under the macadamized quays of a broad canal, in which the muddy water flowed onward. Over it the fresh streaming water was carried on arches; and quite at the top hung the tangled net of gas-pipes and telegraph-wires.

In the distance lamps gleamed, like a reflection from the world-city above. Every now and then a dull rumbling was heard. This came from the heavy wagons rolling over the entrance bridges.

Whither had the Dryad come?

You have, no doubt, heard of the CATACOMBS? Now they are vanishing points in that new underground world—that wonder of the present day—the sewers of Paris. The Dryad was there, and not in the world’s Exhibition in the Champ de Mars.

She heard exclamations of wonder and admiration.

“From here go forth health and life for thousands upon thousands up yonder! Our time is the time of progress, with its manifold blessings.”

Such was the opinion and the speech of men; but not of those creatures who had been born here, and who built and dwelt here—of the rats, namely, who were squeaking to one another in the clefts of a crumbling wall, quite plainly, and in a way the Dryad understood well.

A big old Father-Rat, with his tail bitten off, was relieving his feelings in loud squeaks; and his family gave their tribute of concurrence to every word he said:

“I am disgusted with this man-mewing,” he cried—“with these outbursts of ignorance. A fine magnificence, truly! all made up of gas and petroleum! I can’t eat such stuff as that. Everything here is so fine and bright now, that one’s ashamed of one’s self, without exactly knowing why. Ah, if we only lived in the days of tallow candles! and it does not lie so very far behind us. That was a romantic time, as one may say.”

“What are you talking of there?” asked the Dryad. “I have never seen you before. What is it you are talking about?”

“Of the glorious days that are gone,” said the Rat—“of the happy time of our great-grandfathers and great-grandmothers. Then it was a great thing to get down here. That was a rat’s nest quite different from Paris. Mother Plague used to live here then; she killed people, but never rats. Robbers and smugglers could breathe freely here. Here was the meeting-place of the most interesting personages, whom one now only gets to see in the theatres where they act melodrama, up above. The time of romance is gone even in our rat’s nest; and here also fresh air and petroleum have broken in.”

A carriage stopped, a kind of open omnibus, drawn by swift horses. The company mounted and drove away along the Boulevard de Sebastopol, that is to say, the underground boulevard, over which the well-known crowded street of that name extended.

The carriage disappeared in the twilight; the Dryad disappeared, lifted to the cheerful freshness above. Here, and not below in the vaulted passages, filled with heavy air, the wonder work must be found which she was to seek in her short lifetime. It must gleam brighter than all the gas-flames, stronger than the moon that was just gliding past.

Yes, certainly, she saw it yonder in the distance, it gleamed before her, and twinkled and glittered like the evening star in the sky.

She saw a glittering portal open, that led to a little garden, where all was brightness and dance music. Colored lamps surrounded little lakes, in which were water-plants of colored metal, from whose flowers jets of water spurted up. Beautiful weeping willows, real products of spring, hung their fresh branches over these lakes like a fresh, green, transparent, and yet screening veil. In the bushes burnt an open fire, throwing a red twilight over the quiet huts of branches, into which the sounds of music penetrated—an ear tickling, intoxicating music, that sent the blood coursing through the veins.

Beautiful girls in festive attire, with pleasant smiles on their lips, and the light spirit of youth in their hearts—“Marys,” with roses in their hair, but without carriage and postilion—flitted to and fro in the wild dance.

Where were the heads, where the feet? As if stung by tarantulas, they sprang, laughed, rejoiced, as if in their ecstacies they were going to embrace all the world.

The Dryad felt herself torn with them into the whirl of the dance. Round her delicate foot clung the silken boot, chestnut brown in color, like the ribbon that floated from her hair down upon her bare shoulders. The green silk dress waved in large folds, but did not entirely hide the pretty foot and ankle.

Had she come to the enchanted Garden of Armida? What was the name of the place?

The name glittered in gas-jets over the entrance. It was “Mabille.”

The soaring upwards of rockets, the splashing of fountains, and the popping of champagne corks accompanied the wild bacchantic dance. Over the whole glided the moon through the air, clear, but with a somewhat crooked face.

A wild joviality seemed to rush through the Dryad, as though she were intoxicated with opium. Her eyes spoke, her lips spoke, but the sound of violins and of flutes drowned the sound of her voice. Her partner whispered words to her which she did not understand, nor do we understand them. He stretched out his arms to draw her to him, but he embraced only the empty air.

The Dryad had been carried away, like a rose-leaf on the wind. Before her she saw a flame in the air, a flashing light high up on a tower. The beacon light shone from the goal of her longing, shone from the red lighthouse tower of the Fata Morgana of the Champ de Mars. Thither she was carried by the wind. She circled round the tower; the workmen thought it was a butterfly that had come too early, and that now sank down dying.

The moon shone bright, gas-lamps spread light around, through the halls, over the all-world’s buildings scattered about, over the rose-hills and the rocks produced by human ingenuity, from which waterfalls, driven by the power of “Master Bloodless,” fell down. The caverns of the sea, the depths of the lakes, the kingdom of the fishes were opened here. Men walked as in the depths of the deep pond, and held converse with the sea, in the diving-bell of glass. The water pressed against the strong glass walls above and on every side. The polypi, eel-like living creatures, had fastened themselves to the bottom, and stretched out arms, fathoms long, for prey. A big turbot was making himself broad in front, quietly enough, but not without casting some suspicious glances aside. A crab clambered over him, looking like a gigantic spider, while the shrimps wandered about in restless haste, like the butterflies and moths of the sea.

In the fresh water grew water-lilies, nymphaea, and reeds; the gold-fishes stood up below in rank and file, all turning their heads one way, that the streaming water might flow into their mouths. Fat carps stared at the glass wall with stupid eyes. They knew that they were here to be exhibited, and that they had made the somewhat toilsome journey hither in tubs filled with water; and they thought with dismay of the land-sickness from which they had suffered so cruelly on the railway.

They had come to see the Exhibition, and now contemplated it from their fresh or salt-water position. They looked attentively at the crowds of people who passed by them early and late. All the nations in the world, they thought, had made an exhibition of their inhabitants, for the edification of the soles and haddocks, pike and carp, that they might give their opinions upon the different kinds.

“Those are scaly animals” said a little slimy Whiting. “They put on different scales two or three times a day, and they emit sounds which they call speaking. We don’t put on scales, and we make ourselves understood in an easier way, simply by twitching the corners of our mouths and staring with our eyes. We have a great many advantages over mankind.”

“But they have learned swimming of us,” remarked a well-educated Codling. “You must know I come from the great sea outside. In the hot time of the year the people yonder go into the water; first they take off their scales, and then they swim. They have learnt from the frogs to kick out with their hind legs, and row with their fore paws. But they cannot hold out long. They want to be like us, but they cannot come up to us. Poor people!”

And the fishes stared. They thought that the whole swarm of people whom they had seen in the bright daylight were still moving around them; they were certain they still saw the same forms that had first caught their attention.

A pretty Barbel, with spotted skin, and an enviably round back, declared that the “human fry” were still there.

“I can see a well set-up human figure quite well,” said the Barbel. “She was called ‘contumacious lady,’ or something of that kind. She had a mouth and staring eyes, like ours, and a great balloon at the back of her head, and something like a shut-up umbrella in front; there were a lot of dangling bits of seaweed hanging about her. She ought to take all the rubbish off, and go as we do; then she would look something like a respectable barbel, so far as it is possible for a person to look like one!”

“What’s become of that one whom they drew away with the hook? He sat on a wheel-chair, and had paper, and pen, and ink, and wrote down everything. They called him a ‘writer.’”

“They’re going about with him still,” said a hoary old maid of a Carp, who carried her misfortune about with her, so that she was quite hoarse. In her youth she had once swallowed a hook, and still swam patiently about with it in her gullet. “A writer? That means, as we fishes describe it, a kind of cuttle or ink-fish among men.”

Thus the fishes gossipped in their own way; but in the artificial water-grotto the laborers were busy; who were obliged to take advantage of the hours of night to get their work done by daybreak. They accompanied with blows of their hammers and with songs the parting words of the vanishing Dryad.

“So, at any rate, I have seen you, you pretty gold-fishes,” she said. “Yes, I know you;” and she waved her hand to them. “I have known about you a long time in my home; the swallow told me about you. How beautiful you are! how delicate and shining! I should like to kiss every one of you. You others, also. I know you all; but you do not know me.”

The fishes stared out into the twilight. They did not understand a word of it.

The Dryad was there no longer. She had been a long time in the open air, where the different countries—the country of black bread, the codfish coast, the kingdom of Russia leather, and the banks of eau-de-Cologne, and the gardens of rose oil—exhaled their perfumes from the world-wonder flower.

When, after a night at a ball, we drive home half asleep and half awake, the melodies still sound plainly in our ears; we hear them, and could sing them all from memory. When the eye of the murdered man closes, the picture of what it saw last clings to it for a time like a photographic picture.

So it was likewise here. The bustling life of day had not yet disappeared in the quiet night. The Dryad had seen it; she knew, thus it will be repeated tomorrow.

The Dryad stood among the fragrant roses, and thought she knew them, and had seen them in her own home. She also saw red pomegranate flowers, like those that little Mary had worn in her dark hair.

Remembrances from the home of her childhood flashed through her thoughts; her eyes eagerly drank in the prospect around, and feverish restlessness chased her through the wonder-filled halls.

A weariness that increased continually, took possession of her. She felt a longing to rest on the soft Oriental carpets within, or to lean against the weeping willow without by the clear water. But for the ephemeral fly there was no rest. In a few moments the day had completed its circle.

Her thoughts trembled, her limbs trembled, she sank down on the grass by the bubbling water.

“Thou wilt ever spring living from the earth,” she said mournfully. “Moisten my tongue—bring me a refreshing draught.”

“I am no living water,” was the answer. “I only spring upward when the machine wills it.”

“Give me something of thy freshness, thou green grass,” implored the Dryad; “give me one of thy fragrant flowers.”

“We must die if we are torn from our stalks,” replied the Flowers and the Grass.

“Give me a kiss, thou fresh stream of air—only a single life-kiss.”

“Soon the sun will kiss the clouds red,” answered the Wind; “then thou wilt be among the dead—blown away, as all the splendor here will be blown away before the year shall have ended. Then I can play again with the light loose sand on the place here, and whirl the dust over the land and through the air. All is dust!”

The Dryad felt a terror like a woman who has cut asunder her pulse-artery in the bath, but is filled again with the love of life, even while she is bleeding to death. She raised herself, tottered forward a few steps, and sank down again at the entrance to a little church. The gate stood open, lights were burning upon the altar, and the organ sounded.

What music! Such notes the Dryad had never yet heard; and yet it seemed to her as if she recognized a number of well-known voices among them. They came deep from the heart of all creation. She thought she heard the stories of the old clergyman, of great deeds, and of the celebrated names, and of the gifts that the creatures of God must bestow upon posterity, if they would live on in the world.

The tones of the organ swelled, and in their song there sounded these words:

“Thy wishing and thy longing have torn thee, with thy roots, from the place which God appointed for thee. That was thy destruction, thou poor Dryad!”

The notes became soft and gentle, and seemed to die away in a wail.

In the sky the clouds showed themselves with a ruddy gleam. The Wind sighed:

“Pass away, ye dead! now the sun is going to rise!”

The first ray fell on the Dryad. Her form was irradiated in changing colors, like the soap-bubble when it is bursting and becomes a drop of water; like a tear that falls and passes away like a vapor.

Poor Dryad! Only a dew-drop, only a tear, poured upon the earth, and vanished away!

小说来源:安徒生童话

本文由永利澳门最新网址发布于儿童读物,转载请注明出处:安徒生童话: 树精

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