夜莺与玫瑰-第9部分

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One　morning　the　Giant　was　lying　awake　in　bed　when　he　heard　some　lovely　music。　It　sounded　so　sweet　to　his　ears　that　he　thought　it　must　be　the　King’s　musicians　passing　by。　It　was　really　only　a　little　lin　singing　outside　his　window，　but　it　was　so　long　since　he　had　heard　a　bird　sing　in　his　garden　that　it　seemed　to　him　to　be　the　most　beautiful　music　in　the　world。　Then　the　Hail　stopped　dancing　over　his　head，　and　the　North　Wind　ceased　roaring，　and　a　delicious　perfume　came　to　him　through　the　open　casement。　“I　believe　the　Spring　has　e　at　last，”　said　the　Giant；　and　he　jumped　out　of　bed　and　looked　out。
What　did　he　see？
He　saw　a　most　wonderful　sight。　Through　a　little　hole　in　the　wall　the　children　had　crept　in，　and　they　were　sitting　in　the　branches　of　the　trees。　In　every　tree　that　he　could　see　there　was　a　little　child。　And　the　trees　were　so　glad　to　have　the　children　back　again　that　they　had　covered　themselves　with　blossoms，　and　were　waving　their　arms　gently　above　the　children’s　heads。　The　birds　were　flying　about　and　twittering　with　delight，　and　the　flowers　were　looking　up　through　the　green　grass　and　laughing。　It　was　a　lovely　scene，　only　in　one　corner　it　was　still　winter。　It　was　the　farthest　corner　of　the　garden，　and　in　it　was　standing　a　little　boy。　He　was　so　small　that　he　could　not　reach　up　to　the　branches　of　the　tree，　and　he　was　wandering　all　round　it，　crying　bitterly。　The　poor　tree　was　still　quite　covered　with　frost　and　snow，　and　the　North　Wind　was　blowing　and　roaring　above　it。　“Climb　up！　little　boy，”　said　the　Tree，　and　it　bent　its　branches　down　as　low　as　it　could；　but　the　boy　was　too　tiny。
And　the　Giant’s　heart　melted　as　he　looked　out。　“How　selfish　I　have　been！”　he　said；　“now　I　know　why　the　Spring　would　not　e　here。　I　will　put　that　poor　little　boy　on　the　top　of　the　tree，　and　then　I　will　knock　down　the　wall，　and　my　garden　shall　be　the　children’s　playground　for　ever　and　ever。”　He　was　really　very　sorry　for　what　he　had　done。
So　he　crept　downstairs　and　opened　the　front　door　quite　softly，　and　went　out　into　the　garden。　But　when　the　children　saw　him　they　were　so　frightened　that　they　all　ran　away，　and　the　garden　became　winter　again。　Only　the　little　boy　did　not　run，　for　his　eyes　were　so　full　of　tears　that　he　did　not　see　the　Giant　ing。　And　the　Giant　stole　up　behind　him　and　took　him　gently　in　his　hand，　and　put　him　up　into　the　tree。　And　the　tree　broke　at　once　into　blossom，　and　the　birds　came　and　sang　on　it，　and　the　little　boy　stretched　out　his　two　arms　and　flung　them　round　the　Giant’s　neck，　and　kissed　him。　And　the　other　children，　when　they　saw　that　the　Giant　was　not　wicked　any　longer，　came　running　back，　and　with　them　came　the　Spring。　“It　is　your　garden　now，　little　children，”　said　the　Giant，　and　he　took　a　great　axe　and　knocked　down　the　wall。　And　when　the　people　were　going　to　market　at　twelve　o’clock　they　found　the　Giant　playing　with　the　children　in　the　most　beautiful　garden　they　had　ever　seen。
All　day　long　they　played，　and　in　the　evening　they　came　to　the　Giant　to　bid　him　good…bye。
“But　where　is　your　little　panion？”　he　said：　“the　boy　I　put　into　the　tree。”　The　Giant　loved　him　the　best　because　he　had　kissed　him。
“We　don’t　know，”　answered　the　children；　“he　has　gone　away。”
“You　must　tell　him　to　be　sure　and　e　here　tomorrow，”　said　the　Giant。　But　the　children　said　that　they　did　not　know　where　he　lived，　and　had　never　seen　him　before；　and　the　Giant　felt　very　sad。
Every　afternoon，　when　school　was　over，　the　children　came　and　played　with　the　Giant。
But　the　little　boy　whom　the　Giant　loved　was　never　seen　again。　The　Giant　was　very　kind　to　all　the　children，　yet　he　longed　for　his　first　little　friend，　and　often　spoke　of　him。
“How　I　would　like　to　see　him！”　he　used　to　say。
Years　went　over，　and　the　Giant　grew　very　old　and　feeble。　He　could　not　play　about　any　more，　so　he　sat　in　a　huge　armchair，　and　watched　the　children　at　their　games，　and　admired　his　garden。　“I　have　many　beautiful　flowers，”　he　said；　“but　the　children　are　the　most　beautiful　flowers　of　all。”
One　winter　morning　he　looked　out　of　his　window　as　he　was　dressing。　He　did　not　hate　the　Winter　now，　for　he　knew　that　it　was　merely　the　Spring　asleep，　and　that　the　flowers　were　resting。
Suddenly　he　rubbed　his　eyes　in　wonder，　and　looked　and　looked。　It　certainly　was　a　marvellous　sight。　In　the　farthest　corner　of　the　garden　was　a　tree　quite　covered　with　lovely　white　blossoms。　Its　branches　were　all　golden，　and　silver　fruit　hung　down　from　them，　and　underneath　it　stood　the　little　boy　he　had　loved。
Downstairs　ran　the　Giant　in　great　joy，　and　out　into　the　garden。　He　hastened　across　the　grass，　and　came　near　to　the　child。　And　when　he　came　quite　close　his　face　grew　red　with　anger，　and　he　said，　“Who　hath　dared　to　wound　thee？”　For　on　the　palms　of　the　child’s　hands　were　the　prints　of　two　nails，　and　the　prints　of　two　nails　were　on　the　little　feet。
“Who　hath　dared　to　wound　thee？”　cried　the　Giant；　“tell　me，　that　I　may　take　my　big　sword　and　slay　him。”
“Nay！”　answered　the　child；　“but　these　are　the　wounds　of　Love。”
“Who　art　thou？”　said　the　Giant，　and　a　strange　awe　fell　on　him，　and　he　knelt　before　the　little　child。
And　the　child　smiled　on　the　Giant，　and　said　to　him，　“You　let　me　play　once　in　your　garden，　today　you　shall　e　with　me　to　my　garden，　which　is　Paradise。”
And　when　the　children　ran　in　that　afternoon，　they　found　the　Giant　lying　dead　under　the　tree，　all　covered　with　white　blossoms。
★、The　Devoted　FriendOne　morning　the　old　Water…rat　put　his　head　out　of　his　hole。　He　had　bright　beady　eyes　and　stiff　grey　whiskers　and　his　tail　was　like　a　long　bit　of　black　india…rubber。　The　little　ducks　were　swimming　about　in　the　pond，　looking　just　like　a　lot　of　yellow　canaries，　and　their　mother，　who　was　pure　white　with　real　red　legs，　was　trying　to　teach　them　how　to　stand　on　their　heads　in　the　water。
“You　will　never　be　in　the　best　society　unless　you　can　stand　on　your　heads，”　she　kept　saying　to　them；　and　every　now　and　then　she　showed　them　how　it　was　done。　But　the　little　ducks　paid　no　attention　to　her。　They　were　so　young　that　they　did　not　know　what　an　advantage　it　is　to　be　in　society　at　all。
“What　disobedient　children！”　cried　the　old　Water…rat；　“they　really　deserve　to　be　drowned。”
“Nothing　of　the　kind，”　answered　the　Duck，　“every　one　must　make　a　beginning，　and　parents　cannot　be　too　patient。”
“Ah！　I　know　nothing　about　the　feelings　of　parents，”　said　the　Water…rat；　“I　am　not　a　family　man。　In　fact，　I　have　never　been　married，　and　I　never　intend　to　be。　Love　is　all　very　well　in　its　way，　but　friendship　is　much　higher。　Indeed，　I　know　of　nothing　in　the　world　that　is　either　nobler　or　rarer　than　a　devoted　friendship。”
“And　what，　pray，　is　your　idea　of　the　duties　of　a　devoted　friend？”　asked　a　Green　Lin，　who　was　sitting　in　a　willow…tree　hard　by，　and　had　overheard　the　conversation。
“Yes，　that　is　just　what　I　want　to　know，”　said　the　Duck；　and　she　swam　away　to　the　end　of　the　pond，　and　stood　upon　her　head，　in　order　to　give　her　children　a　good　example。
“What　a　silly　question！”　cried　the　Water…rat。　“I　should　expect　my　devoted　friend　to　be　devoted　to　me，　of　course。”
“And　what　would　you　do　in　return？”　said　the　little　bird，　swinging　upon　a　silver　spray，　and　flapping　his　tiny　wings。
“I　don’t　understand　you，”　answered　the　Water…rat。
“Let　me　tell　you　a　story　on　the　subject，”　said　the　Lin。
“Is　the　story　about　me？”　asked　the　Water…rat。　“If　so，　I　will　listen　to　it，　for　I　am　extremely　fond　of　fiction。”
“It　is　applicable　to　you，”　answered　the　Lin；　and　he　flew　down，　and　alighting　upon　the　bank，　he　told　the　story　of　The　Devoted　Friend。
“Once　upon　a　time，”　said　the　Lin，　“there　was　an　honest　little　fellow　named　Hans。”
“Was　he　very　distinguished？”　asked　the　Water…rat。
“No，”　answered　the　Lin，　“I　don’t　think　he　was　distinguished　at　all，　except　for　his　kind　heart，　and　his　funny　round　good…humoured　face。　He　lived　in　a　tiny　cottage　all　by　himself，　and　every　day　he　worked　in　his　garden。　In　all　the　country…side　there　was　no　garden　so　lovely　as　his。　Sweet…william　grew　there，　and　Gilly…flowers，　and　Shepherds’…purses，　and　Fair…maids　of　France。　There　were　damask　Roses，　and　yellow　Roses，　lilac　Crocuses，　and　gold，　purple　Violets　and　white。　Columbine　and　Ladysmock，　Marjoram　and　Wild　Basil，　the　Cowslip　and　the　Flower…de…luce，　the　Daffodil　and　the　Clove…Pink　bloomed　or　blossomed　in　their　proper　order　as　the　months　went　by，　one　flower　taking　another　flower‘s　place，　so　that　there　were　always　beautiful　things　to　look　at，　and　pleasant　odours　to　smell。
“Little　Hans　had　a　great　many　friends，　but　the　most　devoted　friend　of　all　was　big　Hugh　the　Miller。　Indeed，　so　devoted　was　the　rich　Miller　to　little　Hans，　that　be　would　never　go　by　his　garden　without　leaning　over　the　wall　and　plucking　a　large　nosegay，　or　a　handful　of　sweet　herbs，　or　filling　his　pockets　with　plums　and　cherries　if　it　was　the　fruit　season。
“　‘Real　friends　should　have　everything　in　mon，’　the　Miller　used　to　say，　and　little　Hans　nodded　and　smiled，　and　felt　very　proud　of　having　a　friend　with　such　noble　ideas。
“Sometimes，　indeed，　the　neighbours　thought　it　strange　that　the　rich　Miller　never　gave　little　Hans　anything　in　return，　though　he　had　a　hundred　sacks　of　flour　stored　away　in　his　mill，　and　six　milch　cows，　and　a　large　flock　of　woolly　sheep；　but　Hans　never　troubled　his　head　about　these　things，　and　nothing　gave　him　greater　pleasure　than　to　listen　to　all　the　wonderful　things　the　Miller　used　to　say　about　the　unselfishness　of　true　friendship。
“So　little　Hans　worked　away　in　his　garden。　During　the　spring，　the　summer，　and　the　autumn　he　was　very　happy，　but　when　the　winter　came，　and　he　had　no　fruit　or　flowers　to　bring　to　the　market，　he　suffered　a　good　deal　from　cold　and　hunger，　and　often　had　to　go　to　bed　without　any　supper　but　a　few　dried　pears　or　some　hard　nuts。　In　the　winter，　also，　he　was　extremely　lonely，　as　the　Miller　never　came　to　see　him　then。
“　‘There　is　no　good　in　my　going　to　see　little　Hans　as　long　as　the　snow　lasts，’the　Miller　used　to　say　to　his　wife，　‘for　when　people　are　in　trouble　they　should　be　left　alone，　and　not　be　bothered　by　visitors。　That　at　least　is　my　idea　about　friendship，　and　I　am　sure　I　am　right。　So　I　shall　wait　till　the　spring　es，　and　then　I　shall　pay　him　a　visit，　and　he　will　be　able　to　give　me　a　large　basket　of　primroses　and　that　will　make　him　so　happy。’
“　‘You　are　certainly　very　thoughtful　about　others，’　answered　the　Wife，　as　she　sat　in　her　fortable　armchair　by　the　big　pinewood　fire；‘very　thoughtful　indeed。　It　is　quite　a　treat　to　hear　you　talk　about　friendship。　I　am　sure　the　clergyman　himself　could　not　say　such　beautiful　things　as　you　do，　though　he　does　live　in　a　three…storied　house，　and　wear　a　gold　ring　on　his　little　finger。’
“　‘But　could　we　not　ask　little　Hans　up　here？’　said　the　Miller’s　youngest　son。　‘If　poor　Hans　is　in　trouble　I　will　give　him　half　my　porridge，　and　show　him　my　white　rabbits。’
“　‘What　a　silly　boy　you　are！’　cried　the　Miller；　‘I　really　don’t　know　what　is　the　use　of　sending　you　to　school。　You　seem　not　to　learn　anything。　Why，　if　little　Hans　came　up　here，　and　saw　our　warm　fire，　and　our　good　supper，　and　our　great　cask　of　red　wine，　he　might　get　envious，　and　envy　is　a　most　terrible　thing，　and　would　spoil　anybody’s　nature。　I　certainly　will　not　allow　Hans’　nature　to　be　spoiled。　I　am　his　best　friend，　and　I　will　always　watch　over　him，　and　see　that　he　is　not　led　into　any　temptations。　Besides，　if　Hans　came　here，　he　might　ask　me　to　let　him　have　some　flour　on　credit，　and　that　I　could　not　do。　Flour　is　one　thing，　and　friendship　is　another，　and　they　should　not　be　confused。　Why，　the　words　are　spelt　differently，　and　mean　quite　different　things。　Everybody　can　see　that。’
“　‘How　well　you　talk！’　said　the　Miller’s　Wife，　pouring　herself　out　a　large　glass　of　warm　ale；　‘really　I　feel　quite　drowsy。　It　is　just　like　being　in　church。’
“　‘Lots　of　people　act　well，’　answered　the　Miller；　‘but　very　few　people　talk　well，　which　shows　that　talking　is　much　the　more　difficult　thing　of　the　two，　and　much　the　finer　thing　also；’　and　he　looked　sternly　across　the　table　at　his　little　son，　who　felt　so　ashamed　of　himself　that　he　hung　his　head　down，　and　grew　quite　scarlet，　and　began　to　cry　into　his　tea。　However，　he　was　so　young　that　you　must　excuse　him。”
“Is　that　the　end　of　the　story？”　asked　the　Water…rat。
“Certainly　not，”　answered　the　Lin，　“that　is　the　beginning。”
“Then　you　are　quite　behind　the　age，”　said　the　Water…rat。　“Every　good　story…teller　nowadays　starts　with　the　end，　and　then　goes　on　to　the　beginning，　and　concludes　with　the　middle。　That　is　the　new　method。　I　heard　all　about　it　the　other　day　from　a　critic　who　was　walking　round　the　pond　with　a　young　man。　He　spoke　of　the　matter　at　great　length，　and　I　am　sure　he　must　have　been　right，　for　he　had　blue　spectacles　and　a　bald　head，　and　whenever　the　young　man　made　any　remark，　he　always　answered　‘Pooh！’　But　pray　go　on　with　your　story。　I　like　the　Miller　immensely。　I　have　all　kinds　of　beautiful　sentiments　myself，　so　there　is　a　great　sympathy　between　us。”
“Well，”　said　the　Lin，　hopping　now　on　one　leg　and　now　on　the　other，　“as　soon　as　the　winter　was　over，　and　the　primroses　began　to　open　their　pale　yellow　stars，　the　Miller　said　to　his　wife　that　he　would　go　down　and　see　little　Hans。
“　‘Why，　what　a　good　heart　you　have！’　cried　his　Wife；　‘you　are　always　thinking　of　others。　And　mind　you　take　the　big　basket　with　you　for　the　flowers。’
“So　the　Miller　tied　the　sails　of　the　windmill　together　with　a　strong　iron　chain，　and　went　down　the　hill　with　the　basket　on　his　arm。
“　‘Good　morning，　little　Hans，’　said　the　Miller。
“　‘Good　morning，’　said　Hans，　leaning　on　his　spade，　and　smiling　from　ear　to　ear。
“　‘And　how　have　you　been　all　the　winter？’　said　the　Miller。
“　‘Well，　really，’　cried　Hans，　‘it　is　very　good　of　you　to　ask，　very　good　indeed。　I　am　afraid　I　had　rather　a　hard　time　of　it，　but　now　the　spring　has　e，　and　I　am　quite　happy，　and　all　my　flowers　are　doing　well。’
“　‘We　often　talked　of　you　during　the　winter，　Hans，’　said　the　Miller，　‘and　wondered　how　you　were　getting　on。’
“　‘That　was　kind　of　you，’　said　Hans；　‘I　was　half　afraid　you　had　forgotten　me。’
“　‘Hans，　I　am　surprised　at　you，’　said　the　Miller；　‘friendship　never　forgets。　That　is　the　wonderful　thing　about　it，　but　I　am　afraid　you　don’t　understand　the　poetry　of　life。　How　lovely　your　primroses　are　looking，　by…the…bye！’
“　‘They　are　certainly　very　lovely，’　said　Hans，　‘and　it　is　a　most　lucky　thing　for　me　that　I　have　so　many。　I　am　going　to　bring　them　into　the　market　and　sell　them　to　the　Burgomaster’s　daughter，　and　buy　back　my　wheelbarrow　with　the　money。’
“　‘Buy　back　your　wheelbarrow？　You　don’t　mean　to　say　you　have　sold　it？　What　a　very　stupid　thing　to　do！’
“　‘Well，　the　fact　is，’　said　Hans，　‘that　I　was　obliged　to。　You　see　the　winter　was　a　very　bad　time　for　me，　and　I　really　had　no　money　at　all　to　buy　bread　with。　So　I　first　sold　the　silver　buttons　off　my　Sunday　coat，　and　then　I　sold　my　silver　chain，　and　then　I　sold　my　big　pipe，　and　at　last　I　sold　my　wheelbarrow。　But　I　am　going　to　buy　them　all　back　again　now。’
“　‘Hans，’　said　the　Miller，　‘I　will　give　you　my　wheelbarro