夜莺与玫瑰-第22部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


thy　myself　with　industry　of　any　kind，　least　of　all　with　such　industries　as　you　seem　to　remend。　Indeed，　I　have　always　been　of　opinion　that　hard　work　is　simply　the　refuge　of　people　who　have　nothing　whatever　to　do。”
“Well，　well，”　said　the　Duck，　who　was　of　a　very　peaceable　disposition，　and　never　quarrelled　with　any　one，　“everybody　has　different　tastes。　I　hope，　at　any　rate，　that　you　are　going　to　take　up　your　residence　here。”
“Oh！dear　no，”　cried　the　Rocket。　“I　am　merely　a　visitor，　a　distinguished　visitor。　The　fact　is　that　I　find　this　place　rather　tedious。　There　is　neither　society　here，　nor　solitude。　In　fact，　it　is　essentially　suburban。　I　shall　probably　go　back　to　Court，　for　I　know　that　I　am　destined　to　make　a　sensation　in　the　world。”
“I　had　thoughts　of　entering　public　life　once　myself，”　remarked　the　Duck；　“there　are　so　many　things　that　need　reforming。　Indeed，　I　took　the　chair　at　a　meeting　some　time　ago，　and　we　passed　resolutions　condemning　everything　that　we　did　not　like。　However，　they　did　not　seem　to　have　much　effect。　Now　I　go　in　for　domesticity，　and　look　after　my　family。”
“I　am　made　for　public　life，”　said　the　Rocket，　“and　so　are　all　my　relations，　even　the　humblest　of　them。　Whenever　we　appear　we　excite　great　attention。　I　have　not　actually　appeared　myself，　but　when　I　do　so　it　will　be　a　magnificent　sight。　As　for　domesticity，　it　ages　one　rapidly，　and　distracts　one’s　mind　from　higher　things。”
“Ah！　the　higher　things　of　life，　how　fine　they　are！”　said　the　Duck；　“and　that　reminds　me　how　hungry　I　feel；”　and　she　swam　away　down　the　stream，　saying，　“Quack，　quack，　quack。”
“e　back！　e　back！”　screamed　the　Rocket，　“I　have　a　great　deal　to　say　to　you；”　but　the　Duck　paid　no　attention　to　him。　“I　am　glad　that　she　has　gone，”　he　said　to　himself，　“she　has　a　decidedly　middle…class　mind；”　and　he　sank　a　little　deeper　still　into　the　mud，　and　began　to　think　about　the　loneliness　of　genius，　when　suddenly　two　little　boys　in　white　smocks　came　running　down　the　bank，　with　a　kettle　and　some　faggots。
“This　must　be　the　deputation，”　said　the　Rocket，　and　he　tried　to　look　very　dignified。
“Hallo！”　cried　one　of　the　boys，　“look　at　this　old　stick！　I　wonder　how　it　came　here；”　and　he　picked　the　rocket　out　of　the　ditch。
“Old　Stick！”　said　the　Rocket，　“impossible！　Gold　Stick，　that　is　what　he　said。　Gold　Stick　is　very　plimentary。　In　fact，　he　mistakes　me　for　one　of　the　Court　dignitaries！”
“Let　us　put　it　into　the　fire！”　said　the　other　boy，　“it　will　help　to　boil　the　kettle。”
So　they　piled　the　faggots　together，　and　put　the　Rocket　on　top，　and　lit　the　fire。
“This　is　magnificent，”　cried　the　Rocket，　“they　are　going　to　let　me　off　in　broad　day…light，　so　that　every　one　can　see　me。”
“We　will　go　to　sleep　now，”　they　said，　“and　when　we　wake　up　the　kettle　will　be　boiled；”　and　they　lay　down　on　the　grass，　and　shut　their　eyes。
The　Rocket　was　very　damp，　so　he　took　a　long　time　to　burn。　At　last，　however，　the　fire　caught　him。
“Now　I　am　going　off！”　he　cried，　and　he　made　himself　very　stiff　and　straight。　“I　know　I　shall　go　much　higher　than　the　stars，　much　higher　than　the　moon，　much　higher　than　the　sun。　In　fact，　I　shall　go　so　high　that—”
Fizz！　Fizz！　Fizz！　and　he　went　straight　up　into　the　air。
“Delightful！”　he　cried，　“I　shall　go　on　like　this　for　ever。　What　a　success　I　am！”
But　nobody　saw　him。
Then　he　began　to　feel　a　curious　tingling　sensation　all　over　him。
“Now　I　am　going　to　explode，”　he　cried。　“I　shall　set　the　whole　world　on　fire，　and　make　such　a　noise　that　nobody　will　talk　about　anything　else　for　a　whole　year。”　And　he　certainly　did　explode。　Bang！　Bang！　Bang！　went　the　gunpowder。　There　was　no　doubt　about　it。
But　nobody　heard　him，　not　even　the　two　little　boys，　for　they　were　sound　asleep。
Then　all　that　was　left　of　him　was　the　stick，　and　this　fell　down　on　the　back　of　a　Goose　who　was　taking　a　walk　by　the　side　of　the　ditch。
“Good　heavens！”　cried　the　Goose。　“It　is　going　to　rain　sticks；”　and　she　rushed　into　the　water。
“I　knew　I　should　create　a　great　sensation，”　gasped　the　Rocket，　and　he　went　out。
★、The　Young　King
It　was　the　night　before　the　day　fixed　for　his　coronation，　and　the　young　King　was　sitting　alone　in　his　beautiful　chamber。　His　courtiers　had　all　taken　their　leave　of　him，　bowing　their　heads　to　the　ground，　according　to　the　ceremonious　usage　of　the　day，　and　had　retired　to　the　Great　Hall　of　the　Palace，　to　receive　a　few　last　lessons　from　the　Professor　of　Etiquette；　there　being　some　of　them　who　had　still　quite　natural　manners，　which　in　a　courtier　is，　I　need　hardly　say，　a　very　grave　offence。
The　lad—for　he　was　only　a　lad，　being　but　sixteen　years　of　age—was　not　sorry　at　their　departure，　and　had　flung　himself　back　with　a　deep　sigh　of　relief　on　the　soft　cushions　of　his　embroidered　couch，　lying　there，　wild…eyed　and　open…mouthed，　like　a　brown　woodland　Faun，　or　some　young　animal　of　the　forest　newly　snared　by　the　hunters。
And，　indeed，　it　was　the　hunters　who　had　found　him，　ing　upon　him　almost　by　chance　as，　bare…limbed　and　pipe　in　hand，　he　was　following　the　flock　of　the　poor　goatherd　who　had　brought　him　up，　and　whose　son　he　had　always　fancied　himself　to　be。　The　child　of　the　old　King’s　only　daughter　by　a　secret　marriage　with　one　much　beneath　her　in　station—a　stranger，　some　said，　who，　by　the　wonderful　magic　of　his　lute…playing，　had　made　the　young　Princess　love　him；　while　others　spoke　of　an　artist　from　Rimini，　to　whom　the　Princess　had　shown　much，　perhaps　too　much　honour，　and　who　had　suddenly　disappeared　from　the　city，　leaving　his　work　in　the　Cathedral　unfinished—he　had　been，　when　but　a　week　old，　stolen　away　from　his　mother’s　side，　as　she　slept，　and　given　into　the　charge　of　a　mon　peasant　and　his　wife，　who　were　without　children　of　their　own，　and　lived　in　a　remote　part　of　the　forest，　more　than　a　day’s　ride　from　the　town。　Grief，　or　the　plague，　as　the　court　physician　stated，　or，　as　some　suggested，　a　swift　Italian　poison　administered　in　a　cup　of　spiced　wine，　slew，　within　an　hour　of　her　wakening，　the　white　girl　who　had　given　him　birth，　and　as　the　trusty　messenger　who　bare　the　child　across　his　saddle…bow　stooped　from　his　weary　horse　and　knocked　at　the　rude　door　of　the　goatherd‘s　hut，　the　body　of　the　Princess　was　being　lowered　into　an　open　grave　that　had　been　dug　in　a　deserted　churchyard，　beyond　the　city　gates，　a　grave　where　it　was　said　that　another　body　was　also　lying，　that　of　a　young　man　of　marvellous　and　foreign　beauty，　whose　hands　were　tied　behind　him　with　a　knotted　cord，　and　whose　breast　was　stabbed　with　many　red　wounds。
Such，　at　least，　was　the　story　that　men　whispered　to　each　other。　Certain　it　was　that　the　old　King，　when　on　his　deathbed，　whether　moved　by　remorse　for　his　great　sin，　or　merely　desiring　that　the　kingdom　should　not　pass　away　from　his　line，　had　had　the　lad　sent　for，　and，　in　the　presence　of　the　Council，　had　acknowledged　him　as　his　heir。
And　it　seems　that　from　the　very　first　moment　of　his　recognition　he　had　shown　signs　of　that　strange　passion　for　beauty　that　was　destined　to　have　so　great　an　influence　over　his　life。　Those　who　acpanied　him　to　the　suite　of　rooms　set　apart　for　his　service，　often　spoke　of　the　cry　of　pleasure　that　broke　from　his　lips　when　he　saw　the　delicate　raiment　and　rich　jewels　that　had　been　prepared　for　him，　and　of　the　almost　fierce　joy　with　which　he　flung　aside　his　rough　leathern　tunic　and　coarse　sheepskin　cloak。　He　missed，　indeed，　at　times　the　fine　freedom　of　his　forest　life，　and　was　always　apt　to　chafe　at　the　tedious　Court　ceremonies　that　occupied　so　much　of　each　day，　but　the　wonderful　palace—Joyeuse，　as　they　called　it—of　which　he　now　found　himself　lord，　seemed　to　him　to　be　a　new　world　fresh…fashioned　for　his　delight；　and　as　soon　as　he　could　escape　from　the　council…board　or　audience…chamber，　he　would　run　down　the　great　staircase，　with　its　lions　of　gilt　bronze　and　its　steps　of　bright　porphyry，　and　wander　from　room　to　room，　and　from　corridor　to　corridor，　like　one　who　was　seeking　to　find　in　beauty　an　anodyne　from　pain，　a　sort　of　restoration　from　sickness。
Upon　these　journeys　of　discovery，　as　he　would　call　them—and，　indeed，　they　were　to　him