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拇指姑娘

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发表于 2016-7-10 17:24:59 | 显示全部楼层 |阅读模式
 拇指姑娘
      HERE was once a woman who wished very much to have a little child, but she could not obtain her wish. At last she went
      to a fairy, and said, “I should so very much like to have a little child; can you tell me where I can find one?”
      “Oh, that can be easily managed,” said the fairy. “Here is a barleycorn of a different kind to those which grow in the
      farmer’s fields, and which the chickens eat; put it into a flower-pot, and see what will happen.”
      “Thank you,” said the woman, and she gave the fairy twelve shillings, which was the price of the barleycorn. Then she
      went home and planted it, and immediately there grew up a large handsome flower, something like a tulip in appearance, but
      with its leaves tightly closed as if it were still a bud. “It is a beautiful flower,” said the woman, and she kissed the
      red and golden-colored leaves, and while she did so the flower opened, and she could see that it was a real tulip. Within the
      flower, upon the green velvet stamens, sat a very delicate and graceful little maiden. She was scarcely half as long as a
      thumb, and they gave her the name of “Thumbelina,” or Tiny, because she was so small. A walnut-shell, elegantly polished,
      served her for a cradle; her bed was formed of blue violet-leaves, with a rose-leaf for a counterpane. Here she slept at
      night, but during the day she amused herself on a table, where the woman had placed a plateful of water. Round this plate
      were wreaths of flowers with their stems in the water, and upon it floated a large tulip-leaf, which served Tiny for a boat.
      Here the little maiden sat and rowed herself from side to side, with two oars made of white horse-hair. It really was a very
      pretty sight. Tiny could, also, sing so softly and sweetly that nothing like her singing had ever before been heard. One
      night, while she lay in her pretty bed, a large, ugly, wet toad crept through a broken pane of glass in the window, and
      leaped right upon the table where Tiny lay sleeping under her rose-leaf quilt. “What a pretty little wife this would make
      for my son,” said the toad, and she took up the walnut-shell in which little Tiny lay asleep, and jumped through the window
      with it into the garden.
      In the swampy margin of a broad stream in the garden lived the toad, with her son. He was uglier even than his mother,
      and when he saw the pretty little maiden in her elegant bed, he could only cry, “Croak, croak, croak.”
            
            
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      “Don’t speak so loud, or she will wake,” said the toad, “and then she might run away, for she is as light as swan’s
      down. We will place her on one of the water-lily leaves out in the stream; it will be like an island to her, she is so light
      and small, and then she cannot escape; and, while she is away, we will make haste and prepare the state-room under the marsh,
      in which you are to live when you are married.”
      Far out in the stream grew a number of water-lilies, with broad green leaves, which seemed to float on the top of the
      water. The largest of these leaves appeared farther off than the rest, and the old toad swam out to it with the walnut-shell,
      in which little Tiny lay still asleep. The tiny little creature woke very early in the morning, and began to cry bitterly
      when she found where she was, for she could see nothing but water on every side of the large green leaf, and no way of
      reaching the land. Meanwhile the old toad was very busy under the marsh, decking her room with rushes and wild yellow
      flowers, to make it look pretty for her new daughter-in-law. Then she swam out with her ugly son to the leaf on which she had
      placed poor little Tiny. She wanted to fetch the pretty bed, that she might put it in the bridal chamber to be ready for her.
      The old toad bowed low to her in the water, and said, “Here is my son, he will be your husband, and you will live happily in
      the marsh by the stream.”
      “Croak, croak, croak,” was all her son could say for himself; so the toad took up the elegant little bed, and swam away
      with it, leaving Tiny all alone on the green leaf, where she sat and wept. She could not bear to think of living with the old
      toad, and having her ugly son for a husband. The little fishes, who swam abou
  t in the water beneath, had seen the toad, and
      heard what she said, so they lifted their heads above the water to look at the little maiden. As soon as they caught sight of
      her, they saw she was very pretty, and it made them very sorry to think that she must go and live with the ugly toads. “No,
      it must never be!” so they assembled together in the water, round the green stalk which held the leaf on which the little
      maiden stood, and gnawed it away at the root with their teeth. Then the leaf floated down the stream, carrying Tiny far away
      out of reach of land.
            
            
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      Tiny sailed past many towns, and the little birds in the bushes saw her, and sang, “What a lovely little creature;” so
      the leaf swam away with her farther and farther, till it brought her to other lands. A graceful little white butterfly
      constantly fluttered round her, and at last alighted on the leaf. Tiny pleased him, and she was glad of it, for now the toad
      could not possibly reach her, and the country through which she sailed was beautiful, and the sun shone upon the water, till
      it glittered like liquid gold. She took off her girdle and tied one end of it round the butterfly, and the other end of the
      ribbon she fastened to the leaf, which now glided on much faster than ever, taking little Tiny with it as she stood.
      Presently a large cockchafer flew by; the moment he caught sight of her, he seized her round her delicate waist with his
      claws, and flew with her into a tree. The green leaf floated away on the brook, and the butterfly flew with it, for he was
      fastened to it, and could not get away.
      共5
      Oh, how frightened little Tiny felt when the cockchafer flew with her to the tree! But especially was she sorry for the
      beautiful white butterfly which she had fastened to the leaf, for if he could not free himself he would die of hunger. But
      the cockchafer did not trouble himself at all about the matter. He seated himself by her side on a large green leaf, gave her
      some honey from the flowers to eat, and told her she was very pretty, though not in the least like a cockchafer. After a
      time, all the cockchafers turned up their feelers, and said, “She has only two legs! how ugly that looks.” “She has no
      feelers,” said another. “Her waist is quite slim. Pooh! she is like a human being.”
      “Oh! she is ugly,” said all the lady cockchafers, although Tiny was very pretty. Then the cockchafer who had run away
      with her, believed all the others when they said she was ugly, and would have nothing more to say to her, and told her she
      might go where she liked. Then he flew down with her from the tree, and placed her on a daisy, and she wept at the thought
      that she was so ugly that even the cockchafers would have nothing to say to her. And all the while she was really the
      loveliest creature that one could imagine, and as tender and delicate as a beautiful rose-leaf. During the whole summer poor
      little Tiny lived quite alone in the wide forest. She wove herself a bed with blades of grass, and hung it up under a broad
            
            
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      leaf, to protect herself from the rain. She sucked the honey from the flowers for food, and drank the dew from their leaves
      every morning. So passed away the summer and the autumn, and then came the winter,— the long, cold winter. All the birds who
      had sung to her so sweetly were flown away, and the trees and the flowers had withered. The large clover leaf under the
      shelter of which she had lived, was now rolled together and shrivelled up, nothing remained but a yellow withered stalk. She
      felt dreadfully cold, for her clothes were torn, and she was herself so frail and delicate, that poor little Tiny was nearly
      frozen to death. It began to snow too; and the snow-flakes, as they fell upon her, were like a whole shovelful falling upon
      one of us, for we are tall, but she was only an inch high. Then she wrapped herself up in a dry leaf, but it cracked in the
      middle and could not keep her warm, and she shivered with cold. Near the wood in which she had been living lay a corn-field,
      but the corn had been cut a long time; nothing remained but the bare dry stubble standing up out of the frozen ground. It was
      to her like struggling through a large wood. Oh! how she shivered with the cold. She came at last to the door of a field-
      mouse, who had a little den under the corn-stubble. There dwelt the field-mouse in warmth and comfort, with a whole roomful
      of corn, a kitchen, and a beautiful dining room. Poor little Tiny stood before the door just like a little beggar-girl, and
      begged for a small piece of barley-corn, for she had been without a morsel to eat for two days.
      “You poor little creature,” said the field-mouse, who was really a good old field-mouse, “come into my warm room and dine
      with me.” She was very pleased with Tiny, so she said, “You are quite welcome to stay with me all the winter, if you like;
      but you must keep my rooms clean and neat, and tell me stories, for I shall like to hear them very much.” And Tiny did all
      the field-mouse asked her, and found herself very comfortable.
      “We shall have a visitor soon,” said the field-mouse one day; “my neighbor pays me a visit once a week. He is better
      off than I am; he has large rooms, and wears a beautiful black velvet coat. If you could only have him for a husband, you
      would be well provided for indeed. But he is blind, so you must tell him some of your prettiest stories.”
      But Tiny did not feel at all interested about this neighbor, for he was a mole. However, he came and paid his visit
            
            
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      dressed in his black velvet coat.
      “He is very rich and learned, and his house is twenty times larger than mine,” said the field-mouse.
      He was rich and learned, no doubt, but he always spoke slightingly of the sun and the pretty flowers, because he had
      never seen them. Tiny was obliged to sing to him, “Lady-bird, lady-bird, fly away home,” and many other pretty songs. And
      the mole fell in love with her because she had such a sweet voice; but he said nothing yet, for he was very cautious. A short
      time before, the mole had dug a long passage under the earth, which led from the dwelling of the field-mouse to his own, and
      here she had permission to walk with Tiny whenever she liked. But he warned them not to be alarmed at the sight of a dead
      bird which lay in the passage. It was a perfect bird, with a beak and feathers, and could not have been dead long, and was
      lying just where the mole had made his passage. The mole took a piece of phosphorescent wood in his mouth, and it glittered
      like fire in the dark; then he went before them to light them through the long, dark passage. When they came to the spot
      where lay the dead bird, the mole pushed his broad nose through the ceiling, the earth gave way, so that there was a large
      hole, and the daylight shone into the passage. In the middle of the floor lay a dead swallow, his beautiful wings pulled
      close to his sides, his feet and his head drawn up under his feathers; the poor bird had evidently died of the cold. It made
      little Tiny very sad to see it, she did so love the little birds; all the summer they had sung and twittered for her so
      beautifully. But the mole pushed it aside with his crooked legs, and said, “He will sing no more now. How miserable it must
      be to be born a little bird! I am thankful that none of my children will ever be birds, for they can do nothing but cry,
      ‘Tweet, tweet,’ and always die of hunger in the winter.”
      “Yes, you may well say that, as a clever man!” exclaimed the field-mouse, “What is the use of his twittering, for when
      winter comes he must either starve or be frozen to death. Still birds are very high bred.”
      Tiny said nothing; but when the two others had turned their backs on the bird, she stooped down and stroked aside the
      soft feathers which covered the head, and kissed the closed eyelids. “Perhaps this was the one who sang to me so sweetly in
            
            
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      the summer,” she said; “and how much pleasure it gave me, you dear, pretty bird.”
      The mole now stopped up the hole through which the daylight shone, and then accompanied the lady home. But during the
      night Tiny could not sleep; so she got out of bed and wove a large, beautiful carpet of hay; then she carried it to the dead
      bird, and spread it over him; with some down from the flowers which she had found in the field-mouse’s room. It was as soft
      as wool, and she spread some of it on each side of the bird, so that he might lie warmly in the cold earth. “Farewell, you
      pretty little bird,” said she, “farewell; thank you for your delightful singing during the summer, when all the trees were
      green, and the warm sun shone upon us.” Then she laid her head on the bird’s breast, but she was alarmed immediately, for
      it seemed as if something inside the bird went “thump, thump.” It was the bird’s heart; he was not really dead, only
      benumbed with the cold, and the warmth had restored him to life. In autumn, all the swallows fly away into warm countries,
      but if one happens to linger, the cold seizes it, it becomes frozen, and falls down as if dead; it remains where it fell, and
      the cold snow covers it. Tiny trembled very much; she was quite frightened, for the bird was large, a great deal larger than
      herself,—she was only an inch high. But she took courage, laid the wool more thickly over the poor swallow, and then took a
      leaf which she had used for her own counterpane, and laid it over the head of the poor bird. The next morning she again stole
      out to see him. He was alive but very weak; he could only open his eyes for a moment to look at Tiny, who stood by holding a
      piece of decayed wood in her hand, for she had no other lantern. “Thank you, pretty little maiden,” said the sick swallow;
      “I have been so nicely warmed, that I shall soon regain my strength, and be able to fly about again in the warm sunshine.”
      “Oh,” said she, “it is cold out of doors now; it snows and freezes. Stay in your warm bed; I will take care of you.”
      共5 [1] 2 [3] [4] [5] 下一页
      Then she brought the swallow some water in a flower-leaf, and after he had drank, he told her that he had wounded one of
      his wings in a thorn-bush, and could not fly as fast as the others, who were soon far away on their journey to warm
            
            
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      countries. Then at last he had fallen to the earth, and could remember no more, nor how he came to be where she had found
      him. The whole winter the swallow remained underground, and Tiny nursed him with care and love. Neither the mole nor the
      field-mouse knew anything about it, for they did not like swallows. Very soon the spring time came, and the sun warmed the
      earth. Then the swallow bade farewell to Tiny, and she opened the hole in the ceiling which the mole had made. The sun shone
      in upon them so beautifully, that the swallow asked her if she would go with him; she could sit on his back, he said, and he
      would fly away with her into the green woods. But Tiny knew it would make the field-mouse very grieved if she left her in
      that manner, so she said, “No, I cannot.”
      “Farewell, then, farewell, you good, pretty little maiden,” said the swallow; and he flew out into the sunshine.
      Tiny looked after him, and the tears rose in her eyes. She was very fond of the poor swallow.
      “Tweet, tweet,” sang the bird, as he flew out into the green woods, and Tiny felt very sad. She was not allowed to go
      out into the warm sunshine. The corn which had been sown in the field over the house of the field-mouse had grown up high
      into the air, and formed a thick wood to Tiny, who was only an inch in height.
      “You are going to be married, Tiny,” said the field-mouse. “My neighbor has asked for you. What good fortune for a
      poor child like you. Now we will prepare your wedding clothes. They must be both woollen and linen. Nothing must be wanting
      when you are the mole’s wife.”
      Tiny had to turn the spindle, and the field-mouse hired four spiders, who were to weave day and night. Every evening the
      mole visited her, and was continually speaking of the time when the summer would be over. Then he would keep his wedding-day
      with Tiny; but now the heat of the sun was so great that it burned the earth, and made it quite hard, like a stone. As soon,
      as the summer was over, the wedding should take place. But Tiny was not at all pleased; for she did not like the tiresome
      mole. Every morning when the sun rose, and every evening when it went down, she would creep out at the door, and as the wind
      blew aside the ears of corn, so that she could see the blue sky, she thought how beautiful and bright it seemed out there,
  bsp;   and wished so much to see her dear swallow again. But he never returned; for by this time he had flown far away into the
            
            
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      lovely green forest.
      When autumn arrived, Tiny had her outfit quite ready; and the field-mouse said to her, “In four weeks the wedding must
      take place.”
      Then Tiny wept, and said she would not marry the disagreeable mole.
      “Nonsense,” replied the field-mouse. “Now don’t be obstinate, or I shall bite you with my white teeth. He is a very
      handsome mole; the queen herself does not wear more beautiful velvets and furs. His kitchen and cellars are quite full. You
      ought to be very thankful for such good fortune.”
      So the wedding-day was fixed, on which the mole was to fetch Tiny away to live with him, deep under the earth, and never
      again to see the warm sun, because he did not like it. The poor child was very unhappy at the thought of saying farewell to
      the beautiful sun, and as the field-mouse had given her permission to stand at the door, she went to look at it once more.
      “Farewell bright sun,” she cried, stretching out her arm towards it; and then she walked a short distance from the
      house; for the corn had been cut, and only the dry stubble remained in the fields. “Farewell, farewell,” she repeated,
      twining her arm round a little red flower that grew just by her side. “Greet the little swallow from me, if you should see
      him again.”
      “Tweet, tweet,” sounded over her head suddenly. She looked up, and there was the swallow himself flying close by. As
      soon as he spied Tiny, he was delighted; and then she told him how unwilling she felt to marry the ugly mole, and to live
      always beneath the earth, and never to see the bright sun any more. And as she told him she wept.
      “Cold winter is coming,” said the swallow, “and I am going to fly away into warmer countries. Will you go with me? You
      can sit on my back, and fasten yourself on with your sash. Then we can fly away from the ugly mole and his gloomy rooms,—far
      away, over the mountains, into warmer countries, where the sun shines more brightly—than here; where it is always summer,
      and the flowers bloom in greater beauty. Fly now with me, dear little Tiny; you saved my life when I lay frozen in that dark
      passage.”
      “Yes, I will go with you,” said Tiny; and she seated herself on the bird’s back, with her feet on his outstretched
            
            
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      wings, and tied her girdle to one of his strongest feathers.
      Then the swallow rose in the air, and flew over forest and over sea, high above the highest mountains, covered with
      eternal snow. Tiny would have been frozen in the cold air, but she crept under the bird’s warm feathers, keeping her little
      head uncovered, so that she might admire the beautiful lands over which they passed. At length they reached the warm
      countries, where the sun shines brightly, and the sky seems so much higher above the earth. Here, on the hedges, and by the
      wayside, grew purple, green, and white grapes; lemons and oranges hung from trees in the woods; and the air was fragrant with
      myrtles and orange blossoms. Beautiful children ran along the country lanes, playing with large gay butterflies; and as the
      swallow flew farther and farther, every place appeared still more lovely.
      At last they came to a blue lake, and by the side of it, shaded by trees of the deepest green, stood a palace of dazzling
      white marble, built in the olden times. Vines clustered round its lofty pillars, and at the top were many swallows’ nests,
      and one of these was the home of the swallow who carried Tiny.
      “This is my house,” said the swallow; “but it would not do for you to live there—you would not be comfortable. You
      must choose for yourself one of those lovely flowers, and I will put you down upon it, and then you shall have everything
      that you can wish to make you happy.”
      “That will be delightful,” she said, and clapped her little hands for joy.
      A large marble pillar lay on the ground, which, in falling, had been broken into three pieces. Between these pieces grew
      the most beautiful large white flowers; so the swallow flew down with Tiny, and placed her on one of the broad leaves. But
      how surprised she was to see in the middle of the flower, a tiny little man, as white and transparent as if he had been made
      of crystal! He had a gold crown on his head, and delicate wings at his shoulders, and was not much larger than Tiny herself.
      He was the angel of the flower; for a tiny man and a tiny woman dwell in every flower; and this was the king of them all.
      “Oh, how beautiful he is!” whispered Tiny to the swallow.
      The little prince was at first quite frightened at the bird, who was like a giant, compared to such a delicate little
            
            
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      creature as himself; but when he saw Tiny, he was delighted, and thought her the prettiest little maiden he had ever seen. He
      took the gold crown from his head, and placed it on hers, and asked her name, and if she would be his wife, and queen over
      all the flowers.
      This certainly was a very different sort of husband to the son of a toad, or the mole, with my black velvet and fur; so
      she said, “Yes,” to the handsome prince. Then all the flowers opened, and out of each came a little lady or a tiny lord,
      all so pretty it was quite a pleasure to look at them. Each of them brought Tiny a present; but the best gift was a pair of
      beautiful wings, which had belonged to a large white fly and they fastened them to Tiny’s shoulders, so that she might fly
      from flower to flower. Then there was much rejoicing, and the little swallow who sat above them, in his nest, was asked to
      sing a wedding song, which he did as well as he could; but in his heart he felt sad for he was very fond of Tiny, and would
      have liked never to part from her again.
      “You must not be called Tiny any more,” said the spirit of the flowers to her. “It is an ugly name, and you are so
      very pretty. We will call you Maia.”
      “Farewell, farewell,” said the swallow, with a heavy heart as he left the warm countries to fly back into Denmark.
      There he had a nest over the window of a house in which dwelt the writer of fairy tales. The swallow sang, “Tweet, tweet,”
      and from his song came the whole story.
      从前有一个女人,她非常希望有一个丁点儿小的孩子。但是她不知道从什么地方可以得到。因此她就去请教一位巫婆。她对巫婆说:
      “我非常想要有一个小小的孩子!你能告诉我什么地方可以得到一个吗?”
      “嗨!这容易得很!”巫婆说。“你把这颗大麦粒拿去吧。它可不是乡下人的田里长的那种大麦粒,也不是鸡吃的那种大麦粒啦。你把它
      埋在一个花盆里。不久你就可以看到你所要看的东西了。”
      “谢谢您,”女人说。她给了巫婆三个银币。于是她就回到家来,种下那颗大麦粒。不久以后,一朵美丽的大红花就长出来了。它看起来
      很像一朵郁金香,不过它的叶子紧紧地包在一起,好像仍旧是一个花苞似的。
      “这是一朵很美的花,”女人说,同时在那美丽的、黄而带红的花瓣上吻了一下。不过,当她正在吻的时候,花儿忽然劈啪一声,开放了
            
            
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