English
Afterthatwehadafewminutesofsilence,whileIsortedoutthepebbles,andamusedmyselfwithwatchingBruno’splanofgardening.
Itwasquiteanewplantome:healwaysmeasuredeachbedbeforeheweededit,asifhewasafraidtheweedingwouldmakeitshrink;andonce,whenitcameoutlongerthanhewished,hesettoworktothumpthemousewithhislittlefist,cryingout“Therenow!It’sallgonewrongagain!
Whydon’tookeepoortailstraightwhenItelloo!”
“I’lltellyouwhatI’lldo,”Brunosaidinahalf-whisper,asweworked.“OolikeFairies,don’too?”
“Yes,”Isaid:“ofcourseIdo,orIshouldn’thavecomehere.IshouldhavegonetosomeplacewheretherearenoFairies.”
Brunolaughedcontemptuously.“Why,oomightaswellsayoo’dgotosomeplacewheretherewasn’tanyair—supposingoodidn’tlikeair!”
Thiswasaratherdifficultideatograsp.Itriedachangeofsubject.“You’renearlythefirstFairyIeversaw.Haveyoueverseenanypeoplebesidesme?”
“Plenty!”saidBruno.“Wesee’emwhenwewalkintheroad.”
“Buttheyca’n’tseeyou.Howisittheynevertreadonyou?”
“Ca’n’ttreadonus,”saidBruno,lookingamusedatmyignorance.
“Why,supposeoo’rewalking,here—so—”(makinglittlemarksontheground)“andsupposethere’saFairy—that’sme—walkinghere.
Verywellthen,ooputonefoothere,andonefoothere,sooodoosn’ttreadontheFairy.”
Thiswasallverywellasanexplanation,butitdidn’tconvinceme.“Whyshouldn’tIputonefootontheFairy?”Iasked.
“Idon’tknowwhy,”thelittlefellowsaidinathoughtfultone.“ButIknowoowouldn’t.
NobodyneverwalkedonthetopofaFairy.
NowI’lltelloowhatI’lldo,asoo’resofondofFairies.
I’llgetooaninvitationtotheFairy-King’sdinner-party.Iknowoneofthehead-waiters.”
Icouldn’thelplaughingatthisidea.“Dothewaitersinvitetheguests?”Iasked.
“Oh,nottositdown!”Brunosaid.“Buttowaitattable.Oo’dlikethat,wouldn’too?Tohandaboutplates,andsoon.”
“Well,butthat’snotsoniceassittingatthetable,isit?”
“Ofcourseitisn’t,”Brunosaid,inatoneasifheratherpitiedmyignorance;“butifoo’renotevenSirAnything,ooca’n’texpecttobeallowedtositatthetable,ooknow.”
Isaid,asmeeklyasIcould,thatIdidn’texpectit,butitwastheonlywayofgoingtoadinner-partythatIreallyenjoyed.
AndBrunotossedhishead,andsaid,inaratheroffendedtonethatImightdoasIpleased—thereweremanyheknewthatwouldgivetheirearstogo.
“Haveyoueverbeenyourself,Bruno?”
“Theyinvitedmeonce,lastweek,”Brunosaid,verygravely.
“Itwastowashupthesoup-plates—no,thecheese-platesImeanthatwasgrandenough.AndIwaitedattable.
AndIdidn’thardlymakeonlyonemistake.”
“Whatwasit?”Isaid.“Youneedn’tmindtellingme.”
“Onlybringingscissorstocutthebeefwith,”Brunosaidcarelessly.“Butthegrandestthingofallwas,IfetchedtheKingaglassofcider!”
“Thatwasgrand!”Isaid,bitingmyliptokeepmyselffromlaughing.
“Wasn’tit?”saidBruno,veryearnestly.“Ooknowitisn’teveryonethat’shadsuchanhonourasthat!”
Thissetmethinkingofthevariousqueerthingswecall“anhonour”inthisworld,butwhich,afterall,haven’tabitmorehonourinthemthanwhatBrunoenjoyed,whenhetooktheKingaglassofcider.
Idon’tknowhowlongImightnothavedreamedoninthisway,ifBrunohadn’tsuddenlyrousedme.“Oh,comeherequick!”
hecried,inastateofthewildestexcitement.“Catchholdofhisotherhorn!Ica’n’tholdhimmorethanaminute!”
Hewasstrugglingdesperatelywithagreatsnail,clingingtooneofitshorns,andnearlybreakinghispoorlittlebackinhiseffortstodragitoverabladeofgrass.
IsawweshouldhavenomoregardeningifIletthissortofthinggoon,soIquietlytookthesnailaway,andputitonabankwherehecouldn’treachit.
“We’llhuntitafterwards,Bruno,”Isaid,“ifyoureallywanttocatchit.
Butwhat’stheuseofitwhenyou’vegotit?”“What’stheuseofafoxwhenoo’vegotit?”saidBruno.“Iknowoobigthingshuntfoxes.”
Itriedtothinkofsomegoodreasonwhy“bigthings”shouldhuntfoxes,andheshouldnothuntsnails,butnonecameintomyhead:soIsaidatlast,“Well,Isupposeone’sasgoodastheother.I’llgosnail-huntingmyselfsomeday.”
“Ishouldthinkoowouldn’tbesosilly,”saidBruno,“astogosnail-huntingbyoor-self.Why,oo’dnevergetthesnailalong,ifoohadn’tsomebodytoholdontohisotherhorn!”
“OfcourseIsha’n’tgoalone,”Isaid,quitegravely.“Bytheway,isthatthebestkindtohunt,ordoyourecommendtheoneswithoutshells?”
“Oh,no,weneverhunttheoneswithoutshells,”Brunosaid,withalittleshudderatthethoughtofit.“They’realwayssocrossaboutit;andthen,ifootumblesoverthem,they’reeversosticky!”
Bythistimewehadnearlyfinishedthegarden.Ihadfetchedsomeviolets,andBrunowasjusthelpingmetoputinthelast,whenhesuddenlystoppedandsaid“I’mtired.”
“Restthen,”Isaid:“Icangoonwithoutyou,quitewell.”
Brunoneedednosecondinvitation:heatoncebeganarrangingthedeadmouseasakindofsofa.“AndI’llsingooalittlesong,”hesaid,asherolleditabout.
“Do,”saidI:“Ilikesongsverymuch.”
“Whichsongwilloochoose?”Brunosaid,ashedraggedthemouseintoaplacewherehecouldgetagoodviewofme.“’Ting,ting,ting’isthenicest.”
Therewasnoresistingsuchastronghintasthis:however,Ipretendedtothinkaboutitforamoment,andthensaid“Well,Ilike‘Ting,ting,ting,’bestofall.”
“Thatshowsoo’reagoodjudgeofmusic,”Brunosaid,withapleasedlook.“Howmanyhare-bellswouldoolike?”Andheputhisthumbintohismouthtohelpmetoconsider.
Astherewasonlyoneclusterofhare-bellswithineasyreach,IsaidverygravelythatIthoughtonewoulddothistime,andIpickeditandgaveittohim.
Brunoranhishandonceortwiceupanddowntheflowers,likeamusiciantryinganinstrument,producingamostdeliciousdelicatetinklingashedidso.
Ihadneverheardflower-musicbefore—Idon’tthinkonecan,unlessone’sinthe‘eerie’stateandIdon’tknowquitehowtogiveyouanideaofwhatitwaslike,exceptbysayingthatitsoundedlikeapealofbellsathousandmilesoff.
Whenhehadsatisfiedhimselfthattheflowerswereintune,heseatedhimselfonthedeadmouse(heneverseemedreallycomfortableanywhereelse),and,lookingupatmewithamerrytwinkleinhiseyes,hebegan.
Bytheway,thetunewasratheracuriousone,andyoumightliketotryitforyourself,soherearethenotes.
”Rise,oh,rise!Thedaylightdies:
Theowlsarehooting,ting,ting,ting!
Wake,oh,wake!Besidethelake
Theelvesarefluting,ting,ting,ting!
WelcomingourFairyKing,
Wesing,sing,sing.”
Hesangthefirstfourlinesbrisklyandmerrily,makingthehare-bellschimeintimewiththemusic;butthelasttwohesangquiteslowlyandgently,andmerelywavedtheflowersbackwardsandforwards.Thenheleftofftoexplain.
“TheFairy-KingisOberon,andhelivesacrossthelake—andsometimeshecomesinalittleboat—andwegoandmeethimandthenwesingthissong,youknow.”
“Andthenyougoanddinewithhim?”Isaid,mischievously.
“Ooshouldn’ttalk,”Brunohastilysaid:“itinterruptsthesongso.”
IsaidIwouldn’tdoitagain.
“InevertalkmyselfwhenI’msinging,”hewentonverygravely:“soooshouldn’teither.”Thenhetunedthehare-bellsoncemore,andsang:—
”Hear,oh,hear!Fromfarandnear
Themusicstealing,ting,ting,ting!
Fairybeltsadownthedells
Aremerrilypealing,ting,ting,ting!
WelcomingourFairyKing,
Wering,ring,ring.
“See,oh,see!Oneverytree
Whatlampsareshining,ting,ting,ting!
Theyareeyesoffieryflies
Tolightourdining,ting,ting,ting!
WelcomingourFairyKing
Theyswing,swing,swing.
“Haste,ohhaste,totakeandtaste
Thedaintieswaiting,ting,ting,ting!
Honey-dewisstored—”
“Hush,Bruno!”Iinterruptedinawarningwhisper.“She’scoming!”
Brunocheckedhissong,and,assheslowlymadeherwaythroughthelonggrass,hesuddenlyrushedoutheadlongatherlikealittlebull,shouting“Looktheotherway!Looktheotherway!”
“Whichway?”Sylvieasked,inratherafrightenedtone,asshelookedroundinalldirectionstoseewherethedangercouldbe.
“Thatway!”saidBruno,carefullyturningherroundwithherfacetothewood.“Now,walkbackwardswalkgently—don’tbefrightened:oosha’n’ttrip!”
ButSylviedidtripnotwithstanding:infactheledher,inhishurry,acrosssomanylittlesticksandstones,thatitwasreallyawonderthepoorchildcouldkeeponherfeetatall.
Buthewasfartoomuchexcitedtothinkofwhathewasdoing.
IsilentlypointedouttoBrunothebestplacetoleadherto,soastogetaviewofthewholegardenatonce:itwasalittlerisingground,abouttheheightofapotato;and,whentheyhadmountedit,Idrewbackintotheshade,thatSylviemightn’tseeme.
IheardBrunocryouttriumphantly“Nowoomaylook!”
andthenfollowedaclappingofhands,butitwasalldonebyBrunohimself.
Sylvie:wassilent—sheonlystoodandgazedwithherhandsclaspedtogether,andIwashalfafraidshedidn’tlikeitafterall.
Brunotoowaswatchingheranxiously,andwhenshejumpeddownoffthemound,andbeganwanderingupanddownthelittlewalks,hecautiouslyfollowedherabout,evidentlyanxiousthatsheshouldformherownopinionofitall,withoutanyhintfromhim.
Andwhenatlastshedrewalongbreath,andgaveherverdict—inahurriedwhisper,andwithouttheslightestregardtogrammar—“It’stheloveliestthingasIneversawinallmylifebefore!”
thelittlefellowlookedaswellpleasedasifithadbeengivenbyallthejudgesandjuriesinEnglandputtogether.
“Anddidyoureallydoitallbyyourself,Bruno?”saidSylvie.“Andallforme?”
“Iwashelpedabit,”Brunobegan,withamerrylittlelaughathersurprise.
“We’vebeenatitalltheafternoon—Ithoughtoo’dlike—”andherethepoorlittlefellow’slipbegantoquiver,andallinamomentheburstoutcrying,andrunninguptoSylvieheflunghisarmspassionatelyroundherneck,andhidhisfaceonhershoulder.
TherewasalittlequiverinSylvie’svoicetoo,asshewhispered“Why,what’sthematter,darling?”andtriedtoliftuphisheadandkisshim.
ButBrunoonlyclungtoher,sobbing,andwouldn’tbecomfortedtillhehadconfessed.
“Itried—tospoiloorgarden—first—butI’llnever—never—”andthencameanotherburstoftears,whichdrownedtherestofthesentence.
Atlasthegotoutthewords“Iliked—puttingintheflowers—foroo,Sylvie—andIneverwassohappybefore.”
Andtherosylittlefacecameupatlasttobekissed,allwetwithtearsasitwas.
Sylviewascryingtoobythistime,andshesaidnothingbut“Bruno,dear!”
and“Ineverwassohappybefore,”thoughwhythesetwochildrenwhohadneverbeensohappybeforeshouldbothbecryingwasamysterytome.
Ifeltveryhappytoo,butofcourseIdidn’tcry:“bigthings”neverdo,youknowweleaveallthattotheFairies.
OnlyIthinkitmusthavebeenrainingalittlejustthen,forIfoundadroportwoonmycheeks.
Afterthattheywentthroughthewholegardenagain,flowerbyflower,asifitwerealongsentencetheywerespellingout,withkissesforcommas,andagreathugbywayofafull-stopwhentheygottotheend.
“Doosooknow,thatwasmyriver-edge,Sylvie?”Brunosolemnlybegan.
Sylvielaughedmerrily.“Whatdoyoumean?”shesaid.Andshepushedbackherheavybrownhairwithbothhands,andlookedathimwithdancingeyesinwhichthebigteardropswerestillglittering.
Brunodrewinalongbreath,andmadeuphismouthforagreateffort.
“Imeanrevenge,”hesaid:“nowoounder’tand.”
Andhelookedsohappyandproudathavingsaidthewordrightatlast,thatIquiteenviedhim.
IratherthinkSylviedidn’t“under’tand”atall;butshegavehimalittlekissoneachcheek,whichseemedtodojustaswell.
Sotheywanderedofflovinglytogether,inamongthebuttercups,eachwithanarmtwinedroundtheother,whisperingandlaughingastheywent,andneversomuchasoncelookedbackatpoorme.
Yes,once,justbeforeIquitelostsightofthem,Brunohalfturnedhishead,andnoddedmeasaucylittlegood-byeoveroneshoulder.
AndthatwasallthethanksIgotformytrouble.
TheverylastthingIsawofthemwasthis—SylviewasstoopingdownwithherarmsroundBruno’sneck,andsayingcoaxinglyinhisear,“Doyouknow,Bruno,I’vequiteforgottenthathardword.Dosayitoncemore.Come!Onlythisonce,dear!”
ButBrunowouldn’ttryitagain.
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