第18章 CHAPTER VI(3)
- The Little Lame Prince
- Miss Mulock
- 748字
- 2016-03-02 16:37:22
"Godmother," he said, having now begun to believe that, whether he saw her or not, he could always speak to her with full confidence that she would hear him--"Godmother, all these creatures I like exceedingly; but I should like better to see a creature like myself. Couldn't you show me just one little boy?"There was a sigh behind him,--it might have been only the wind,--and the cloak remained so long balanced motionless in air that he was half afraid his godmother had forgotten him, or was offended with him for asking too much.
Suddenly a shrill whistle startled him, even through his silver ears, and looking downward, he saw start up from behind a bush on a common, something----Neither a sheep nor a horse nor a cow--nothing upon four legs. This creature had only two; but they were long, straight, and strong.
And it had a lithe, active body, and a curly head of black hair set upon its shoulders. It was a boy, a shepherd-boy, about the Prince's own age--but, oh! so different.
Not that he was an ugly boy--though his face was almost as red as his hands, and his shaggy hair matted like the backs of his own sheep.
He was rather a nice-looking lad; and seemed so bright and healthy and good-tempered--"jolly" would be the word, only I am not sure if they have such a one in the elegant language of Nomansland--that the little Prince watched him with great admiration.
"Might he come and play with me? I would drop down to the ground to him, or fetch him up to me here. Oh, how nice it would be if I only had a little boy to play with me."But the cloak, usually so obedient to his wishes, disobeyed him now. There were evi-dently some things which his godmother either could not or would not give. The cloak hung stationary, high in air, never attempting to descend. The shepherd-lad evidently took it for a large bird, and, shading his eyes, looked up at it, making the Prince's heart beat fast.
However, nothing ensued. The boy turned round, with a long, loud whistle--seemingly his usual and only way of expressing his feelings.
He could not make the thing out exactly--it was a rather mysterious affair, but it did not trouble him much--he was not an "examining" boy.
Then, stretching himself, for he had been evidently half asleep, he began flopping his shoulders with his arms to wake and warm himself;while his dog, a rough collie, who had been guarding the sheep meanwhile, began to jump upon him, barking with delight.
"Down, Snap, down: Stop that, or I'll thrash you," the Prince heard him say; though with such a rough, hard voice and queer pronunciation that it was difficult to make the words out.
"Hollo! Let's warm ourselves by a race."
They started off together, boy and dog--barking and shouting, till it was doubtful which made the more noise or ran the faster. Aregular steeplechase it was: first across the level common, greatly disturbing the quiet sheep; and then tearing away across country, scrambling through hedges and leaping ditches, and tumbling up and down over plowed fields. They did not seem to have anything to run for--but as if they did it, both of them, for the mere pleasure of motion.
And what a pleasure that seemed! To the dog of course, but scarcely less so to the boy.
How he skimmed along over the ground--his cheeks glowing, and his hair flying, and his legs --oh, what a pair of legs he had!
Prince Dolor watched him with great intentness, and in a state of excitement almost equal to that of the runner himself--for a while.
Then the sweet, pale face grew a trifle paler, the lips began to quiver, and the eyes to fill.
"How nice it must be to run like that!" he said softly, thinking that never--no, never in this world--would he be able to do the same.
Now he understood what his godmother had meant when she gave him his traveling-cloak, and why he had heard that sigh--he was sure it was hers--when he had asked to see "just one little boy.""I think I had rather not look at him again,"said the poor little Prince, drawing himself back into the center of his cloak, and resuming his favorite posture, sitting like a Turk, with his arms wrapped round his feeble, useless legs.