Nils Holgerssons underbara resa. English, Page 3
Selma Lagerlöf
likely that henever could have gotten away from them, if the house cat hadn't comealong just then. As soon as the chickens saw the cat, they quieted downand pretended to be thinking of nothing else than just to scratch in theearth for worms.
Immediately the boy ran up to the cat. "You dear pussy!" said he, "youmust know all the corners and hiding places about here? You'll be a goodlittle kitty and tell me where I can find the elf."
The cat did not reply at once. He seated himself, curled his tail intoa graceful ring around his paws--and stared at the boy. It was a largeblack cat with one white spot on his chest. His fur lay sleek and soft,and shone in the sunlight. The claws were drawn in, and the eyes were adull gray, with just a little narrow dark streak down the centre. Thecat looked thoroughly good-natured and inoffensive.
"I know well enough where the elf lives," he said in a soft voice, "butthat doesn't say that I'm going to tell _you_ about it."
"Dear pussy, you must tell me where the elf lives!" said the boy. "Can'tyou see how he has bewitched me?"
The cat opened his eyes a little, so that the green wickedness began toshine forth. He spun round and purred with satisfaction before hereplied. "Shall I perhaps help you because you have so often grabbed meby the tail?" he said at last.
Then the boy was furious and forgot entirely how little and helpless hewas now. "Oh! I can pull your tail again, I can," said he, and rantoward the cat.
The next instant the cat was so changed that the boy could scarcelybelieve it was the same animal. Every separate hair on his body stood onend. The back was bent; the legs had become elongated; the claws scrapedthe ground; the tail had grown thick and short; the ears were laid back;the mouth was frothy; and the eyes were wide open and glistened likesparks of red fire.
The boy didn't want to let himself be scared by a cat, and he took astep forward. Then the cat made one spring and landed right on the boy;knocked him down and stood over him--his forepaws on his chest, and hisjaws wide apart--over his throat.
The boy felt how the sharp claws sank through his vest and shirt andinto his skin; and how the sharp eye-teeth tickled his throat. Heshrieked for help, as loudly as he could, but no one came. He thoughtsurely that his last hour had come. Then he felt that the cat drew inhis claws and let go the hold on his throat.
"There!" he said, "that will do now. I'll let you go this time, for mymistress's sake. I only wanted you to know which one of us two has thepower now."
With that the cat walked away--looking as smooth and pious as he didwhen he first appeared on the scene. The boy was so crestfallen that hedidn't say a word, but only hurried to the cowhouse to look for the elf.
There were not more than three cows, all told. But when the boy came in,there was such a bellowing and such a kick-up, that one might easilyhave believed that there were at least thirty.
"Moo, moo, moo," bellowed Mayrose. "It is well there is such a thing asjustice in this world."
"Moo, moo, moo," sang the three of them in unison. He couldn't hear whatthey said, for each one tried to out-bellow the others.
The boy wanted to ask after the elf, but he couldn't make himself heardbecause the cows were in full uproar. They carried on as they used to dowhen he let a strange dog in on them. They kicked with their hind legs,shook their necks, stretched their heads, and measured the distance withtheir horns.
"Come here, you!" said Mayrose, "and you'll get a kick that you won'tforget in a hurry!"
"Come here," said Gold Lily, "and you shall dance on my horns!"
"Come here, and you shall taste how it felt when you threw your woodenshoes at me, as you did last summer!" bawled Star.
"Come here, and you shall be repaid for that wasp you let loose in myear!" growled Gold Lily.
Mayrose was the oldest and the wisest of them, and she was the verymaddest. "Come here!" said she, "that I may pay you back for the manytimes that you have jerked the milk pail away from your mother; and forall the snares you laid for her, when she came carrying the milk pails;and for all the tears when she has stood here and wept over you!"
The boy wanted to tell them how he regretted that he had been unkind tothem; and that never, never--from now on--should he be anything butgood, if they would only tell him where the elf was. But the cows didn'tlisten to him. They made such a racket that he began to fear one of themwould succeed in breaking loose; and he thought that the best thing forhim to do was to go quietly away from the cowhouse.
When he came out, he was thoroughly disheartened. He could understandthat no one on the place wanted to help him find the elf. And littlegood would it do him, probably, if the elf were found.
He crawled up on the broad hedge which fenced in the farm, and which wasovergrown with briers and lichen. There he sat down to think about howit would go with him, if he never became a human being again. Whenfather and mother came home from church, there would be a surprise forthem. Yes, a surprise--it would be all over the land; and people wouldcome flocking from East Vemminghoeg, and from Torp, and from Skerup. Thewhole Vemminghoeg township would come to stare at him. Perhaps father andmother would take him with them, and show him at the market place inKivik.
No, that was too horrible to think about. He would rather that no humanbeing should ever see him again.
His unhappiness was simply frightful! No one in all the world was sounhappy as he. He was no longer a human being--but a freak.
Little by little he began to comprehend what it meant--to be no longerhuman. He was separated from everything now; he could no longer playwith other boys, he could not take charge of the farm after his parentswere gone; and certainly no girl would think of marrying _him_.
He sat and looked at his home. It was a little log house, which lay asif it had been crushed down to earth, under the high, sloping roof. Theouthouses were also small; and the patches of ground were so narrow thata horse could barely turn around on them. But little and poor though theplace was, it was much too good for him _now_. He couldn't ask for anybetter place than a hole under the stable floor.
It was wondrously beautiful weather! It budded, and it rippled, and itmurmured, and it twittered--all around him. But he sat there with such aheavy sorrow. He should never be happy any more about anything.
Never had he seen the skies as blue as they were to-day. Birds ofpassage came on their travels. They came from foreign lands, and hadtravelled over the East sea, by way of Smygahuk, and were now on theirway North. They were of many different kinds; but he was only familiarwith the wild geese, who came flying in two long rows, which met at anangle.
Several flocks of wild geese had already flown by. They flew very high,still he could hear how they shrieked: "To the hills! Now we're off tothe hills!"
When the wild geese saw the tame geese, who walked about the farm, theysank nearer the earth, and called: "Come along! Come along! We're off tothe hills!"
The tame geese could not resist the temptation to raise their heads andlisten, but they answered very sensibly: "We're pretty well off where weare. We're pretty well off where we are."
It was, as we have said, an uncommonly fine day, with an atmosphere thatit must have been a real delight to fly in, so light and bracing. Andwith each new wild geese-flock that flew by, the tame geese became moreand more unruly. A couple of times they flapped their wings, as if theyhad half a mind to fly along. But then an old mother-goose would alwayssay to them: "Now don't be silly. Those creatures will have to sufferboth hunger and cold."
There was a young gander whom the wild geese had fired with a passionfor adventure. "If another flock comes this way, I'll follow them," saidhe.
Then there came a new flock, who shrieked like the others, and the younggander answered: "Wait a minute! Wait a minute! I'm coming."
He spread his wings and raised himself into the air; but he was sounaccustomed to flying, that he fell to the ground again.
At any rate, the wild geese must have heard his call, for they turnedand flew back slowly to see if he was coming.
"Wait, wait!
" he cried, and made another attempt to fly.
All this the boy heard, where he lay on the hedge. "It would be a greatpity," thought he, "if the big goosey-gander should go away. It would bea big loss to father and mother if he was gone when they came home fromchurch."
When he thought of this, once again he entirely forgot that he waslittle and helpless. He took one leap right down into the goose-flock,and threw his arms around the neck of the goosey-gander. "Oh, no! Youdon't fly away this time, sir!" cried he.
But just about then, the gander was considering how he should go towork to raise himself from the ground. He couldn't stop to shake the boyoff, hence he had to go along with him--up in the air.
They bore on toward the heights so
Immediately the boy ran up to the cat. "You dear pussy!" said he, "youmust know all the corners and hiding places about here? You'll be a goodlittle kitty and tell me where I can find the elf."
The cat did not reply at once. He seated himself, curled his tail intoa graceful ring around his paws--and stared at the boy. It was a largeblack cat with one white spot on his chest. His fur lay sleek and soft,and shone in the sunlight. The claws were drawn in, and the eyes were adull gray, with just a little narrow dark streak down the centre. Thecat looked thoroughly good-natured and inoffensive.
"I know well enough where the elf lives," he said in a soft voice, "butthat doesn't say that I'm going to tell _you_ about it."
"Dear pussy, you must tell me where the elf lives!" said the boy. "Can'tyou see how he has bewitched me?"
The cat opened his eyes a little, so that the green wickedness began toshine forth. He spun round and purred with satisfaction before hereplied. "Shall I perhaps help you because you have so often grabbed meby the tail?" he said at last.
Then the boy was furious and forgot entirely how little and helpless hewas now. "Oh! I can pull your tail again, I can," said he, and rantoward the cat.
The next instant the cat was so changed that the boy could scarcelybelieve it was the same animal. Every separate hair on his body stood onend. The back was bent; the legs had become elongated; the claws scrapedthe ground; the tail had grown thick and short; the ears were laid back;the mouth was frothy; and the eyes were wide open and glistened likesparks of red fire.
The boy didn't want to let himself be scared by a cat, and he took astep forward. Then the cat made one spring and landed right on the boy;knocked him down and stood over him--his forepaws on his chest, and hisjaws wide apart--over his throat.
The boy felt how the sharp claws sank through his vest and shirt andinto his skin; and how the sharp eye-teeth tickled his throat. Heshrieked for help, as loudly as he could, but no one came. He thoughtsurely that his last hour had come. Then he felt that the cat drew inhis claws and let go the hold on his throat.
"There!" he said, "that will do now. I'll let you go this time, for mymistress's sake. I only wanted you to know which one of us two has thepower now."
With that the cat walked away--looking as smooth and pious as he didwhen he first appeared on the scene. The boy was so crestfallen that hedidn't say a word, but only hurried to the cowhouse to look for the elf.
There were not more than three cows, all told. But when the boy came in,there was such a bellowing and such a kick-up, that one might easilyhave believed that there were at least thirty.
"Moo, moo, moo," bellowed Mayrose. "It is well there is such a thing asjustice in this world."
"Moo, moo, moo," sang the three of them in unison. He couldn't hear whatthey said, for each one tried to out-bellow the others.
The boy wanted to ask after the elf, but he couldn't make himself heardbecause the cows were in full uproar. They carried on as they used to dowhen he let a strange dog in on them. They kicked with their hind legs,shook their necks, stretched their heads, and measured the distance withtheir horns.
"Come here, you!" said Mayrose, "and you'll get a kick that you won'tforget in a hurry!"
"Come here," said Gold Lily, "and you shall dance on my horns!"
"Come here, and you shall taste how it felt when you threw your woodenshoes at me, as you did last summer!" bawled Star.
"Come here, and you shall be repaid for that wasp you let loose in myear!" growled Gold Lily.
Mayrose was the oldest and the wisest of them, and she was the verymaddest. "Come here!" said she, "that I may pay you back for the manytimes that you have jerked the milk pail away from your mother; and forall the snares you laid for her, when she came carrying the milk pails;and for all the tears when she has stood here and wept over you!"
The boy wanted to tell them how he regretted that he had been unkind tothem; and that never, never--from now on--should he be anything butgood, if they would only tell him where the elf was. But the cows didn'tlisten to him. They made such a racket that he began to fear one of themwould succeed in breaking loose; and he thought that the best thing forhim to do was to go quietly away from the cowhouse.
When he came out, he was thoroughly disheartened. He could understandthat no one on the place wanted to help him find the elf. And littlegood would it do him, probably, if the elf were found.
He crawled up on the broad hedge which fenced in the farm, and which wasovergrown with briers and lichen. There he sat down to think about howit would go with him, if he never became a human being again. Whenfather and mother came home from church, there would be a surprise forthem. Yes, a surprise--it would be all over the land; and people wouldcome flocking from East Vemminghoeg, and from Torp, and from Skerup. Thewhole Vemminghoeg township would come to stare at him. Perhaps father andmother would take him with them, and show him at the market place inKivik.
No, that was too horrible to think about. He would rather that no humanbeing should ever see him again.
His unhappiness was simply frightful! No one in all the world was sounhappy as he. He was no longer a human being--but a freak.
Little by little he began to comprehend what it meant--to be no longerhuman. He was separated from everything now; he could no longer playwith other boys, he could not take charge of the farm after his parentswere gone; and certainly no girl would think of marrying _him_.
He sat and looked at his home. It was a little log house, which lay asif it had been crushed down to earth, under the high, sloping roof. Theouthouses were also small; and the patches of ground were so narrow thata horse could barely turn around on them. But little and poor though theplace was, it was much too good for him _now_. He couldn't ask for anybetter place than a hole under the stable floor.
It was wondrously beautiful weather! It budded, and it rippled, and itmurmured, and it twittered--all around him. But he sat there with such aheavy sorrow. He should never be happy any more about anything.
Never had he seen the skies as blue as they were to-day. Birds ofpassage came on their travels. They came from foreign lands, and hadtravelled over the East sea, by way of Smygahuk, and were now on theirway North. They were of many different kinds; but he was only familiarwith the wild geese, who came flying in two long rows, which met at anangle.
Several flocks of wild geese had already flown by. They flew very high,still he could hear how they shrieked: "To the hills! Now we're off tothe hills!"
When the wild geese saw the tame geese, who walked about the farm, theysank nearer the earth, and called: "Come along! Come along! We're off tothe hills!"
The tame geese could not resist the temptation to raise their heads andlisten, but they answered very sensibly: "We're pretty well off where weare. We're pretty well off where we are."
It was, as we have said, an uncommonly fine day, with an atmosphere thatit must have been a real delight to fly in, so light and bracing. Andwith each new wild geese-flock that flew by, the tame geese became moreand more unruly. A couple of times they flapped their wings, as if theyhad half a mind to fly along. But then an old mother-goose would alwayssay to them: "Now don't be silly. Those creatures will have to sufferboth hunger and cold."
There was a young gander whom the wild geese had fired with a passionfor adventure. "If another flock comes this way, I'll follow them," saidhe.
Then there came a new flock, who shrieked like the others, and the younggander answered: "Wait a minute! Wait a minute! I'm coming."
He spread his wings and raised himself into the air; but he was sounaccustomed to flying, that he fell to the ground again.
At any rate, the wild geese must have heard his call, for they turnedand flew back slowly to see if he was coming.
"Wait, wait!
" he cried, and made another attempt to fly.
All this the boy heard, where he lay on the hedge. "It would be a greatpity," thought he, "if the big goosey-gander should go away. It would bea big loss to father and mother if he was gone when they came home fromchurch."
When he thought of this, once again he entirely forgot that he waslittle and helpless. He took one leap right down into the goose-flock,and threw his arms around the neck of the goosey-gander. "Oh, no! Youdon't fly away this time, sir!" cried he.
But just about then, the gander was considering how he should go towork to raise himself from the ground. He couldn't stop to shake the boyoff, hence he had to go along with him--up in the air.
They bore on toward the heights so
