《安徒生童话英文版》第92章

　　I cannot shake the sausage peg and say, Look, hereis the skewer, and now the soup will come. That would only produce adish to be served when people were keeping a fast.'

　　"Then the elf dipped his finger into the cup of a violet, and saidto me, 'Look here, I will anoint your pilgrim's staff, so that whenyou return to your own home and enter the king's castle, you have onlyto touch the king with your staff, and violets will spring forth andcover the whole of it, even in the coldest winter time; so I think Ihave given you really something to carry home, and a little morethan something.'"

　　But before the little mouse explained what this something morewas, she stretched her staff out to the king, and as it touched himthe most beautiful bunch of violets sprang forth and filled theplace with perfume. The smell was so powerful that the mouse-kingordered the mice who stood nearest the chimney to thrust their tailsinto the fire, that there might be a smell of burning, for the perfumeof the violets was overpowering, and not the sort of scent thatevery one liked.

　　"But what was the something more of which you spoke just now?"asked the mouse-king.

　　"Why," answered the little mouse, "I think it is what they call'effect;'" and thereupon she turned the staff round, and behold nota single flower was to be seen upon it! She now only held the nakedskewer, and lifted it up as a conductor lifts his baton at aconcert. "Violets, the elf told me," continued the mouse, "are for thesight, the smell, and the touch; so we have only now to produce theeffect of hearing and tasting;" and then, as the little mouse beattime with her staff, there came sounds of music, not such music as washeard in the forest, at the elfin feast, but such as is often heard inthe kitchen- the sounds of boiling and roasting. It came quitesuddenly, like wind rushing through the chimneys, and seemed as ifevery pot and kettle were boiling over. The fire-shovel clattered downon the brass fender; and then, quite as suddenly, all was still,-nothing could be heard but the light, vapory song of the tea-kettle,which was quite wonderful to hear, for no one could rightlydistinguish whether the kettle was just beginning to boil or goingto stop. And the little pot steamed, and the great pot simmered, butwithout any regard for each; indeed there seemed no sense in thepots at all. And as the little mouse waved her baton still morewildly, the pots foamed and threw up bubbles, and boiled over; whileagain the wind roared and whistled through the chimney, and at lastthere was such a terrible hubbub, that the little mouse let herstick fall.

　　"That is a strange sort of soup," said the mouse-king; "shall wenot now hear about the preparation?"

　　"That is all," answered the little mouse, with a bow.

　　"That all!" said the mouse-king; "then we shall be glad to hearwhat information the next may have to give us."

　　WHAT THE SECOND MOUSE HAD TO TELL

　　"I was born in the library, at a castle," said the second mouse."Very few members of our family ever had the good fortune to getinto the dining-room, much less the store-room. On my journey, andhere to-day, are the only times I have ever seen a kitchen. We wereoften obliged to suffer hunger in the library, but then we gained agreat deal of knowledge. The rumor reached us of the royal prizeoffered to those who should be able to make soup from a sausageskewer. Then my old grandmother sought out a manuscript which,however, she could not read, but had heard it read, and in it waswritten, 'Those who are poets can make soup of sausage skewers.' Shethen asked me if I was a poet. I felt myself quite innocent of anysuch pretensions. Then she said I must go out and make myself apoet. I asked again what I should be required to do, for it seemedto me quite as difficult as to find out how to make soup of asausage skewer. My grandmother had heard a great deal of reading inher day, and she told me three principal qualifications werenecessary- understanding, imagination, and feeling. 'If you can manageto acquire these three, you will be a poet, and the sausage-skewersoup will be quite easy to you.'

　　"So I went forth into the world, and turned my steps towards thewest, that I might become a poet. Understanding is the mostimportant matter in everything. I knew that, for the two otherqualifications are not thought much of; so I went first to seek forunderstanding. Where was I to find it?