a moonlight fable-第1部分

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A　MOONLIGHT　FABLE



There　was　once　a　little　man　whose　mother　made　him　a　beautiful　suit

of　clothes。　　It　was　green　and　gold　and　woven　so　that　I　cannot

describe　how　delicate　and　fine　it　was；　and　there　was　a　tie　of

orange　fluffiness　that　tied　up　under　his　chin。　　And　the　buttons

in　their　newness　shone　like　stars。　　He　was　proud　and　pleased　by　his

suit　beyond　measure；　and　stood　before　the　long　looking…glass　when

first　he　put　it　on；　so　astonished　and　delighted　with　it　that　he

could　hardly　turn　himself　away。



He　wanted　to　wear　it　everywhere　and　show　it　to　all　sorts　of

people。　　He　thought　over　all　the　places　he　had　ever　visited　and　all

the　scenes　he　had　ever　heard　described；　and　tried　to　imagine　what

the　feel　of　it　would　be　if　he　were　to　go　now　to　those　scenes　and

places　wearing　his　shining　suit；　and　he　wanted　to　go　out　forthwith

into　the　long　grass　and　the　hot　sunshine　of　the　meadow　wearing　it。　

Just　to　wear　it！　　But　his　mother　told　him；　〃No。〃　　She　told　him　he

must　take　great　care　of　his　suit；　for　never　would　he　have　another

nearly　so　fine；　he　must　save　it　and　save　it　and　only　wear　it　on

rare　and　great　occasions。　　It　was　his　wedding　suit；　she　said。　　And

she　took　his　buttons　and　twisted　them　up　with　tissue　paper　for　fear

their　bright　newness　should　be　tarnished；　and　she　tacked　little

guards　over　the　cuffs　and　elbows　and　wherever　the　suit　was　most

likely　to　come　to　harm。　　He　hated　and　resisted　these　things；　but

what　could　he　do？　　And　at　last　her　warnings　and　persuasions　had

effect　and　he　consented　to　take　off　his　beautiful　suit　and　fold　it

into　its　proper　creases　and　put　it　away。　　It　was　almost　as　though

he　gave　it　up　again。　　But　he　was　always　thinking　of　wearing　it

and　of　the　supreme　occasion　when　some　day　it　might　be　worn　without

the　guards；　without　the　tissue　paper　on　the　buttons；　utterly　and

delightfully；　never　caring；　beautiful　beyond　measure。



One　night　when　he　was　dreaming　of　it；　after　his　habit；　he

dreamed　he　took　the　tissue　paper　from　one　of　the　buttons　and　found

its　brightness　a　little　faded；　and　that　distressed　him　mightily　in

his　dream。　　He　polished　the　poor　faded　button　and　polished　it；　and

if　anything　it　grew　duller。　　He　woke　up　and　lay　awake　thinking　of

the　brightness　a　little　dulled　and　wondering　how　he　would　feel　if

perhaps　when　the　great　occasion　（whatever　it　might　be）　should

arrive；　one　button　should　chance　to　be　ever　so　little　short　of　its

first　glittering　freshness；　and　for　days　and　days　that　thought

remained　with　him；　distressingly。　　And　when　next　his　mother　let　him

wear　his　suit；　he　was　tempted　and　nearly　gave　way　to　the　temptation

just　to　fumble　off　one　little　bit　of　tissue　paper　and　see　if　indeed

the　buttons　were　keeping　as　bright　as　ever。



He　went　trimly　along　on　his　way　to　church　full　of　this　wild

desire。　　For　you　must　know　his　mother　did；　with　repeated　and

careful　warnings；　let　him　wear　his　suit　at　times；　on　Sundays；　for

example；　to　and　fro　from　church；　when　there　was　no　threatening　of

rain；　no　dust　nor　anything　to　injure　it；　with　its　buttons　covered

and　its　protections　tacked　upon　it　and　a　sunshade　in　his　hand　to

shadow　it　if　there　seemed　too　strong　a　sunlight　for　its　colours。　

And　always；　after　such　occasions；　he　brushed　it　over　and　folded　it

exquisitely　as　she　had　taught　him；　and　put　it　away　again。



Now　all　these　restrictions　his　mother　set　to　the　wearing　of

his　suit　he　obeyed；　always　he　obeyed　them；　until　one　strange　night

he　woke　up　and　saw　the　moonlight　shining　outside　his　window。　　It

seemed　to　him　the　moonlight　was　not　common　moonlight；　nor　the　night

a　common　night；　and　for　a　while　he　lay　quite　drowsily　with　this　odd

persuasion　in　his　mind。　　Thought　joined　on　to　thought　like　things

that　whisper　warmly　in　the　shadows。　　Then　he　sat　up　in　his　little

bed　suddenly；　very　alert；　with　his　heart　beating　very　fast　and　a

quiver　in　his　body　from　top　to　toe。　　He　had　made　up　his　mind。　　He

knew　now　that　he　was　going　to　wear　his　suit　as　it　should　be　worn。　

He　had　no　doubt　in　the　matter。　　He　was　afraid；　terribly　afraid；　but

glad；　glad。



He　got　out　of　his　bed　and　stood　a　moment　by　the　window　looking

at　the　moonshine…flooded　garden　and　trembling　at　the　thing　he　meant

to　do。　　The　air　was　full　of　a　minute　clamor　of　crickets　and

murmurings；　of　the　infinitesimal　shouting　of　little　living　things。　

He　went　very　gently　across　the　creaking　boards；　for　fear　that　he

might　wake　the　sleeping　house；　to　the　big　dark　clothes…press

wherein　his　beautiful　suit　lay　folded；　and　he　took　it　out　garment

by　garment　and　softly　and　very　eagerly　tore　off　its　tissue…paper

covering　and　its　tacked　protections；　until　there　it　was；　perfect

and　delightful　as　he　had　seen　it　when　first　his　mother　had　given　it

to　hima　long　time　it　seemed　ago。　　Not　a　button　had　tarnished；　not

a　thread　had　faded　on　this　dear　suit　of　his；　he　was　glad　enough　for

weeping　as　in　a　noiseless　hurry　he　put　it　on。　　And　then　back　he

went；　soft　and　quick；　to　the　window　and　looked　out　upon　the　garden

and　stood　there　for　a　minute；　shining　in　the　moonlight；　with　his

buttons　twinkling　like　stars；　before　he　got　out　on　the　sill　and；

making　as　little　of　a　rustling　as　he　could；　clambered　down　to　the

garden　path　below。　　He　stood　before　his　mother's　house；　and　it　was

white　and　nearly　as　plain　as　by　day；　with　every　window…blind　but

his　own　shut　like　an　eye　that　sleeps。　　The　trees　cast　still　shadows

like　intricate　black　lace　upon　the　wall。



The　garden　in　the　moonlight　was　very　different　from　the　garden

by　day；　moonshine　was　tangled　in　the　hedges　and　stretched　in

phantom　cobwebs　from　spray　to　spray。　　Every　flower　was　gleaming

white　or　crimson　black；　and　the　air　was　aquiver　with　the　thridding

of　small　crickets　and　nightingales　singing　unseen　in　the　depths　of

the　trees。



There　was　no　darkness　in　the　world；　but　only　warm；　mysterious

shadows；　and　all　the　leaves　and　spikes　were　edged　and　lined　with

iridescent　jewels　of　dew。　　The　night　was　warmer　than　any　night　had

ever　been；　the　heavens　by　some　miracle　at　once　vaster　and　nearer；

and　spite　of　the　great　ivory…tinted　moon　that　ruled　the　world；　the

sky　was　full　of　stars。



The　little　man　did　not　shout　nor　sing　for　all　his　infinite

gladness。　　He　stood　for　a　time　like　one　awe…stricken；　and　then；

with　a　queer　small　cry　and　holding　out　his　arms；　he　ran　out　as　if

he　would　embrace　at　once　the　whole　warm　round　immensity　of　the

world。　　He　did　not　follow　the　neat　set　paths　that　cut　the　garden

squarely；　but　thrust　across　the　beds　and　through　the　wet；　tall；

scented　herbs；　through　the　night　stock　and　the　nicotine　and　the

clusters　of　phantom　white　mallow　flowers　and　through　the　thickets

of　southern…wood　and　lavender；　and　knee…deep　across　a　wide　space　of

mignonette。　　He　came　to　the　great　hedge　and　he　thrust　his　way

through　it；　and　though　the　thorns　of　the　brambles　scored　him　deeply

and　tore　threads　from　his　wonderful　suit；　and　though　burs　and

goosegrass　and　havers　caught　and　clung　to　him；　he　did　not　care。　　He

did　not　care；　for　he　knew　it　was　all　part　of　the　wearing　for　which

he　had　longed。　　〃I　am　glad　I　put　on　my　suit；〃　he　said；　〃I　am　glad

I　wore　my　suit。〃



Beyond　the　hedge　he　came　to　the　duck…pond；　or　at　least　to　what

was　the　duck…pond　by　day。　　But　by　night　it　was　a　great　bowl　of

silver　moonshine　all　noisy　with　singing　frogs；　of　wonderful　silver

moonshine　twisted　and　clotted　with　strange　patternings；　and　the

little　man　ran　down　into　its　waters　between　the　thin　black　rushes；

knee…deep　and　waist…deep　and　to　his　shoulders；　smiting　the　water　to

black　and　shining　wavelets　with　either　hand；　swaying　and　shivering

wavelets；　amid　which　the　stars　were　netted　in　the　tangled

reflections　of　the　brooding　trees　upon　the　bank。　　He　waded　until　he

swam；　and　so　he　crossed　the　pond　and　came　out　upon　the　other　side；

trailing；　as　it　seemed　to　him；　not　duckweed；　but　very　silver　in

long；　clinging；　dripping　masses。　　And　up　he　went　through　the

transfigured　tangles　of　the　willow…herb　and　the　uncut　seeding　grass

of　the　farther　bank。　　And　so　he　came　glad　and　breathless　into　the

highroad。　　〃I　am　glad；〃　he　said；　〃beyond　measure；　that　I　had

clothes　that　fitted　this　occasion。〃



The　highroad　ran　straight　as　an　arrow　flies；　straight　into　the

deep　blue　pit　of　sky　beneath　the　moon；　a　white　and　shining　road

between　the　singing　nightingales；　and　along　it　he　went；　running　now

and　leaping；　and　now　walking　and　rejoicing；　in　the　clothes　his

mother　had　made　for　him　with　tireless；　loving　hands。　　The　road　was

deep　in　dust；　but　that　for　him　was　only　soft　whiteness；　and　as　he

went　a　great　dim　moth　came　fluttering　round　his　wet　and　shimmering

and　hastening　figure。　　At　first　he　did　not　heed　the　moth；　and　then

he　waved　his　hands　at　it　and　made　a　sort　of　dance　with　it　as　it

circled　round　his　head。　　〃Soft　moth！〃　he　cried；　〃dear　moth！　　And

wonderful　night；　wonderful　night　of　the　world！　　Do　you　think　my

clothes　are　beautiful；　dear　moth？　　As　beautiful　as　your　scales　and

all　this　silver　vesture　of　the　earth　and　sky？〃



And　the　moth　circled　closer　and　closer　until　at　last　its

velvet　wings　just　brushed　his　lips　。　。　。　。　。



And　next　morning　they　found　him　dead　with　his　neck　broken　in

the　bottom　of　the　stone　pit；　with　his　beautiful　clothes　a　little

bloody　and　foul　and　stained　with　the　duckweed　from　the　pond。　　But

his　face　was　a　face　of　such　happiness　that；　had　you　seen　it；　you

would　have　understood　indeed　how　that　he　had　died　happy；　never

knowing　the　cool　and　streaming　silver　for　the　duckweed　in　the　pond。