我见到过太阳后面的暴雨，我见到过细雨后的斜风，我还看到过明天即将遇到的琐事。可是，可是，我怎么就看不到你呀＿可怕的大地震。
一瞬间，天翻了，地覆了，所有的房屋变的如泥塑般脆弱。而我世界在刹那间也由光明变的完全黑暗。
曾记刚才我还和我的同学们坐在教室中，李国明还问我借钢笔呢，这是怎么了，怎么了呀！怎么没有等我明白过来，这地就塌了，楼就倒了呢？
我于一片天摇地动中失去知觉，依稀中听见妈妈在呼喊：“孩子，你在哪儿呀？孩子，妈妈不在身边，你要坚强，你要坚持呀！”
等我醒来时，意识中只有一个字—疼。一大块水泥压住了我的双腿，真的好疼呀。可是更让我恐惧的不是双腿的疼痛，而是这死一般的寂静和孤独。
老师呢？李国明呢？我的同学们呢？你们去哪儿呀！
爸爸妈妈你们又在哪儿呀！
不知等了多久，一群穿着象太阳般颜色衣服的叔叔撬开水泥块救了我。而这时我已完全忘了疼痛，忘了冰泠，我的脑子里只有爸爸、妈妈、老师和伙伴们。可是，也许今生我再也见不到他们了。我的爸爸妈妈被压在政府楼下生死不明。而我的老师，已被确认死亡。叔叔们找到他时他早没有的呼吸，而他的身底下藏着四个活着的孩子—他用自己柔软的身体挡住坚硬无比的钢筋水泥，保护了四个年青的生命。
再可怕的恶梦也不过如此了吧！流的.满地的，那不是水，那是红色的血呀！排得整齐的，那不是课桌，那是被包裹着的尸体呀！
祖国呀，祖国！你的名字从来没有这般在我的心中明晰；总理呀，总理！你的泪眼从来没有这般让我沉痛．
救救我们吧，救救我们，伸出你们的手拉我们一把吧，我们是如此的需要！
导语：好的电影中每每都会出现令人动容的
1、教孩子学会放下
台词一：
人生也许就是不断地放下，然而令人痛心的是，我都没能好好地与他们道别。
人生有很多的不尽如人意，有很多时候我们不得不放弃，或者事物就在我们不经意之间就消失不见，我们还未来得及好好道别。一些成年人对于失去的执着，往往会导致他们陷入漩涡之中不能自拔。更何况是一些未曾经历世事的孩子。或许你的孩子还未懂得失去对他们的真正意义，但终有一天他们会彻底地感悟这些不得不放下的无奈与痛心。在
家长们，你认为你家孩子已经做好这些心理准备了吗?孩子的世界不可能永远只有纯真和美好，一些现实的残酷给他们真诚的快乐以强烈的冲击，你有想过会给孩子一些什么样的心理影响吗?或许作为家长，我们不能阻止事情向坏的方面发展，但至少我们可以教育孩子让他们能够全面一点、客观一点地了解这个世界，学会什么是失去，学会认真地做好每一次的道别，学会体验心痛的感觉，学会遗憾，学会积极应对困难。
2、教孩子战胜恐惧
台词二：
这里必须说说恐惧，它是生活惟一真正的对手，因为只有恐惧才能打败生活。
正是因为恐惧让我们惴惴不安，人的一生也是一个不断追求安全感的过程。家是我们最温暖的港湾，家庭对于人来说是逃避恐惧的最佳方式，它让我们觉得安全同时也让我们对这个世界有责任、有联系、有贡献，它实实在在地证明着我们的存在价值，使我们面对这个未知的世界有了足够的勇气。
家长要给予孩子的正是这安稳和勇气，或许我们不能在每一次孩子遇到困难时都能及时地挺身而出，也不能随时随地给予孩子陪伴与安慰，但是作为家长我们可以教会孩子勇敢、坚强地面对人生的挑战。
孩子小时候，家长就可以采取一些教育方式，让孩子学会独立坚强地面对恐惧，凡是都有个循序渐进的过程，家长需要耐心等待，悉心引导，让孩子的心逐渐变得强大，家长要通过观察、沟通了解孩子恐惧的根源，通过言传身教或者游戏让孩子多接触适应，让他了解到这些恐惧都是不堪一击的，是可以战胜的。而当孩子真正战胜恐惧获得成功时，家长千万不要吝啬你的支持和赞许哦。
3、让孩子多经历体验生活
台词三：
如果我们在人生中体验的每一次转变都让我们在生活中走得更远，那么，我们就真正的体验到了生活想让我们体验的东西。
我们的人生在体验中走得更远。只有体验到当前，你才会真正了解到你自己的生活状态，你需要什么，你热爱什么，你想要放弃什么、舍弃什么。只有这样你才会感受到改变的力量，才会感觉到人生发展的喜悦，就像马斯洛需要层次中的最高级，实现人生的价值。有些人的人生劳劳碌碌只为一日三顿饱饭，有人却愿意挨饿而存钱到处旅游，你的价值观是什么?
孩子的'价值观很大程度受到家庭的影响，家长的正确引导很重要，更重要的孩子所拥有的经历，经历越多的人，对生活的体验越多，这些孩子往往比较懂事、成熟，在为人处事上都有自己独特的见解，这些人一般都活得很成功，因为他们懂得在经历中看到自己心中的渴望，他们愿意付出一切去追求他们认为正确的东西。孩子从小就比别人多经历体验，这些对孩子的成长有不可估量的影响作用。
家长应该多给孩子体验生活的机会，给予孩子宽松自由的成长空间，随心所欲而不只是追求学业第一。孩子的双眼不应只被书本蒙蔽，多多亲近自然，亲近人群，或许你的孩子有更多意想不到的收获。
4、有信仰并坚持
台词四：
我非常感恩。说实话，如果没有理查德·帕克，我也不可能活到今天跟你讲述我的故事。
宗教提供了解释世界的一种猜想，但是对于个体来说，他永远是我们面对未知、面对恐惧的一种安慰。中国人缺乏信仰，因此在抉择的交叉路上常常摇摆不定，或在困境中很容易就败下阵来。在此并不是主张家长们让孩子去信奉宗教，信仰只是一种摆脱困境的心灵手段，每个人都是自己的神，你主宰不了当下，但你至少可以改变你当下的心态。
当我们感到迷惘的时候，要试着听听自己的心声，当我们孤独无助的时候，要追随自己的信仰。每个人的内心都应该有一句话或者一个人，成为我们信仰的力量。家长的作用，就是要帮助孩子学会寻找自己的声音，学会有靠自己去寻找坚定力量的来源，并去坚持它，实践它来面对人生的风雨。
年轻的音乐朋友们不久就把这支歌在一个大音乐会中介绍出去了。它吸引人们的注意，但却不引起人们的期望。我们年轻朋友的面前展开着他自己的道路。他的伟大和重要不仅是蕴藏在他能引起共鸣的声调里，同时也内含在他的非凡的音乐才能中。这一点，在他演乔治·布朗和哈姆雷特的时候已经显示出来了。他不喜欢演唱轻歌剧，而喜欢演正式的歌剧。由歌唱到说白，然后又由说自回到歌唱——这是违反他的健全和自然的理智的。“这好比一个人从大理石的台阶走到木梯子上去，”他说，“有时甚至走到鸡埘的横档子上去，然后又回到大理石上来。整个的诗应该在音乐中获得生命和灵魂。”
未来的音乐——这是人们对于新歌剧运动的称呼，也是瓦格纳①所极力倡导的一种音乐——我们的年轻朋友成了这种音乐的支持者和倾慕者。他发现这里面的人物刻划得非常清晰，章节充满了思想，整个的情节是在戏剧性地向前不断开展，而没有停滞或者经常再现的那种旋律。“把漫长的歌曲放进去的确是不自然的事情!”
“是的，放进去!”歌唱教师说，“但是在许多大师们的作品中，它们却成为整体中最重要的部分!它们正应该如此。抒情歌最恰当的地方是在歌剧之中。”于是他举出《唐璜》②中堂·奥塔微奥的那支歌曲《眼泪啊，请你停止流吧!》为例。“多么像一个美丽的山中湖泊啊!人们在它岸边休息，饱餐它里面潺潺流动着的音乐。我钦佩这种新音乐的技巧，但是却不愿意和你在这种偶像面前跳舞。如果这不是因为你没有把你心里的真话讲出来，那么就是因为你还没有把问题弄清楚。”
“我将要在瓦格纳的一个歌剧中演出，”我们的年轻朋友说。“如果我没有把我心里的意思用字句讲清楚，我将用歌唱和演技表达出来!”
他演的角色是罗恩格林③——一位神秘的年轻骑士。他立在由一只天鹅拉着的船上，渡过舍尔得河去为艾尔莎和布拉般而战斗。谁能够像他那样优美地演唱出会晤时的第一支歌——洞房中的情歌——和那支当这位年轻骑士在圣杯的环飞着的白鸽下面到来、征服、而又消逝时的离歌呢?
这天晚上，对于我们的年轻朋友说来，要算是向艺术的伟大和重要又迈进了一步;对于歌唱教师说来，要算是对于“未来的音乐”有了更深的认识。
“但是有附带条件!”他说。
①瓦格纳(Wilhelm Richard Wagner，1813-1883)是德国的名作曲家，“音乐剧”的创始人。
②这是莫扎特于1787年发表的一部歌剧，原名为Don Giovanni。
③罗恩格林(Lohengrin)是瓦格纳1848年发表的一部同名歌剧中的主人公。
十六
在一个一年一度的盛大美术展览会上，贝儿有一天遇见了费利克斯。后者站在一位年轻美貌的女子画像面前。她是一位寡妇男爵夫人——一般人都这样称呼她——的女儿。这位男爵夫人的沙龙是名流以及艺术和科学界重要人物的集中地。她的女儿刚刚满十六岁，是一个天真可爱的孩子。这张画像非常像她，是一件艺术品。
“请到隔壁的一个大厅里去吧，”费利克斯说，“这位年轻的美人和她的妈妈就在那儿。”
她们在聚精会神地观看一幅表现性格的绘画。画面是一片田野。两个结了婚的年轻人在田野上骑着一匹马奔驰，彼此紧紧地拉着。但是主要人物却是一个年轻的修道士。他在凝望这两位幸福的旅人。这个年轻人的脸上有一种悲哀的梦幻似的表情。人们可以从他的脸上看出他内心的思想和他一生的历史：他失去了目标，失去了极大的幸福。他没有获得人间的爱情。
老男爵夫人看到了费利克斯。后者对她和她的女儿恭恭敬敬地行了礼。贝儿也按着一般的习惯向她们致敬。寡妇男爵夫人在舞台上看见过他，因此立刻就认出来了。她和费利克斯说了几句话以后，就和贝儿握手，同时友善地、和气地和他交谈了一会儿：
“我和我的女儿都是你的崇拜者!”
这位年轻的小姐在这一瞬间是多么美丽啊!她差不多是怀着一种感谢的心情，用一双温柔、明亮的眼睛在望着他。
“我在我的家里看到了许多极有特色的艺术家，”寡妇男爵夫人说，“我们这些普通人需要在精神上常常换换空气。我们诚恳地欢迎你常来!我们年轻的外交家，”她指着费利克斯，“将会先把你带到我家里来一次。以后我希望你自己会认识路!”
她对他微笑了一下。这位年轻的小姐向他伸出手来，非常自然和诚恳，好像他们老早就认识似的。
在一个晚秋的、寒冷和雨雪纷飞的晚上，这两位出生在富有的商人的屋子里的年轻人到来了。这种天气适宜于坐车子，而不适宜于步行。但是这位富有的少爷和这位舞台上的第一个歌唱家裹在大衣里，穿着套鞋，戴着风帽，却是步行来了。
从这样一种恶劣的天气走进一个豪华而富有风雅情趣的屋子里来，的确是像走进一个童话的国度。在前厅里，在铺着地毯的楼梯前面，种种不同的花卉、灌木和棕榈杂陈，显得极为鲜艳。一个小小的喷泉在向一个水池喷着水。水池的周围是一圈高大的水芹。
大厅里照耀得金碧辉煌。大部分的客人已经在这里集中，很快这里就要变得拥挤了。后面的人踩着前面的人的丝绸后据和花边，周围是一片嘈杂而响亮的谈话声。这些谈话，整个地说来，与这里的豪华气象最不相称。
如果贝儿是一个爱虚荣的人物——事实上他不是——他可以理解这个晚会是为他而开的，因为这家的女主人和她的容光焕发的女儿是在那样热烈地招待他。年轻和年老的绅士淑女们也都在对他表示恭维。
音乐奏起来了。一位年轻的作家在朗诵他精心写出的一首诗。人们也唱起歌来了，但是人们却考虑得很周到，没有要求我们可敬的年轻歌唱家来使这个场合变得更完整。在这个华贵的沙龙里，女主人是分外的殷勤、活泼和诚恳。
这要算是踏进上流社会的第一步。很快我们的这位年轻朋友也成了这个狭小的家庭圈子里的少数贵宾之一。
歌唱教师摇摇头，大笑了一声。
“亲爱的朋友，你是多么年轻啊!”他说,“你居然和这些人混在一起而感到高兴!他们在一定的程度上有他们的优点，但是他们瞧不起我们这些普通人呀。他们把艺术家和当代的名人邀请到他们圈子里去，有的是为了虚荣，为了消遣，有的是为了要表示他们有文化。这些人在他们的沙龙里，也无非像花朵在花瓶里一样。他们在一个时期内被当做装饰品，然后就被扔掉。”
“多么冷酷和不公平啊!”贝儿说，“您不了解这些人，而且您也不愿意去了解他们!”
“你错了!”歌唱教师回答说。“我和他们在一起不会感到舒服的!你也不会的!这一点他们都记得，也都知道。他们拍着你和望着你，正如他们拍着一匹比赛的马儿一样，其目的是希望它能赢得赌注。你不是属于他们那一伙人的。当你不再是在风头上的时候，他们就会抛弃你的。你还不懂得吗?你还不够自豪。你只是爱虚荣，你和这些上层人物混在一起就正说明了这一点!”
“假如您认识那位寡妇男爵夫人和我在那里的几位新朋友，”贝儿说，“您决不会讲这样的话和作出这样的判断来的!”
“我不愿意去认识他们!”歌唱教师说。
“你什么时候宣布订婚呢?”费利克斯有一天问。“对象是妈妈呢，还是女儿?”于是他就大笑起来。“不要把女儿拿走吧，因为你这样做，所有的年轻贵族就会来反对你，连我都会成为你的敌人——最凶恶的敌人!”
“你这话是什么意思?”贝儿问。
“你是她们最喜欢的人!你可以随时进出她们的大门。妈妈可以使你得到钱，变成一个望族呀!”
“请你不要和我开玩笑吧!”贝儿说。“你所讲的话没有丝毫趣味。”
“这不是趣味问题!”费利克斯说。“这是一种非常严肃的事情!因为你决不应该让她老人家坐着长吁短叹，变成一个双重寡妇呀!”
“我们不要把话题扯到男爵夫人身上去吧，”贝儿说，“请你只开我的玩笑吧——只是开我的玩笑。我可以回答你!”
“谁也不会相信，在你这方面你是单从爱情出发的!”费利克斯继续说。“她已经超出美的范围之外了!的确，人们不是专靠聪明生活的!”
“我相信你有足够的文化和知识，”贝儿说，“而不致于这样无理地来谈论一个女性。你应该尊敬她。你常到她家里去。我不能再听这类的话语!”
“你打算怎么办呢?”费利克斯问。“你打算决斗吗?”
“我知道你曾经学过这一手，我没有学过，但是我会学会的!”于是他就离开了费利克斯。
过了一两天以后，这两位在同一个房子里出生的孩子——一个出生在第一楼，另一个出生在顶楼上——又碰到一起了。费利克斯和贝儿讲话的态度好像在他们之间没有发生过裂痕似的。后者回答得非常客气，但是非常直截了当。
“这是怎么一回事情?”费利克斯说。“我们两人最近很有点儿别扭。但是一个人有时得开点玩笑呀，这并不能算做轻浮!我不愿意别人对我怀恨，让我们言归于好、忘记一切吧!”
“你能够原谅你自己的态度吗?你把我们都应该尊敬的一位夫人说成那个样子!”
“我是说的老实话呀!”费利克斯说。“在上流社会中，人们可以谈些尖刻的话，但是用意并非就是那么坏!这正如诗人们所说的，是加在‘每天所吃的枯燥乏味的鱼’上的一撮盐。我们大家都有点恶毒。亲爱的朋友，你也可以撒下一点盐，撒下天真的一丁点儿盐，刺激刺激一下呀!”
不久，人们又看见他们肩并肩地在一起走了。费利克斯知道，过去不只一个年轻美貌的姑娘在他身旁走过而不会瞧他一眼;但是她们现在可就要注意他了，因为他是在和“舞台的偶像”在一起。舞台的灯光永远在舞台的主角和恋人身上撒下一道美丽的光环。哪怕他是大白天在街上走路，这道光环仍然罩在他的身上，虽然它惯常是熄灭了的。舞台上的艺术家大多数是像天鹅一样，人们看他们最好是当他们在演出的时候，而不是当他们在人行道上或散步场上走过的时候。当然例外的情形也有，而我们的年轻朋友就是这样。他下了舞台后的风度，决不会搅乱人们在当他表演乔治·布朗、哈姆雷特和罗恩格林时对他已形成的概念。不少年轻的心把这种诗和音乐的形象融成一气，和艺术家本人统一起来，甚至还把他理想化起来。他知道，他的情形就是如此，而且他还从这种情形获得某种快感!他对他的艺术和他所拥有的才华感到幸福。但是年轻幸福的脸上有时也会笼罩上一层阴影。于是钢琴上的曲子便引出这样一支歌：
一切东西都会消逝——消逝，
青春、希望和你的朋友。
一切都会像风儿一样奔驰，
再也没有一个回来的时候!
“多么凄楚啊!”那位寡妇男爵夫人说，“你是十二分的幸运!我从来没有看见一个人像你这样幸运!”
“智者梭伦①曾经说过，一个人在没有进入坟墓以前不应该说他幸运!”他回答说，他严肃的脸上露出了一丝微笑。“假如我还没有愉快和感谢的心情，那将是一种错误，一种罪过。我不是这样。我感谢上天委托给我的东西，但是我对它的评价却与别人不同。凡是能冲上去、能散发出来的焰火，都是美丽的!舞台艺术家的工作也同样是昙花一现的。永恒不灭的明星，与忽然出现的流星比起来，总会被人忘记。但当一颗流星消逝了的时候，除了一项旧的记载以外，它不会留下任何长久的痕迹。新的一代不会知道、也无从想象那些曾经在舞台上迷住他们曾祖父母的人。青年人可能轰轰烈烈地称赞黄铜的光泽，正如老年人曾经一度称赞过真金的光彩一样。诗人、雕刻家、画家和作曲家所处的地位，要比舞台艺术家有利得多，虽然他们在现实生活中遭受到困苦和得不到应有的承认，而那些能够及时表演出他们的艺术的人却过着豪华和由偶像崇拜而产生的骄傲的生活。让人们崇拜那色彩鲜明的云块而忘记太阳吧。但是云块会消逝，而太阳会永远照着，给新的世世代代带来光明。”
他在钢琴面前坐下来，即席创作了一个从来不曾有过的富于思想和力量的曲子。
“美极了!”寡妇男爵夫人打断他说。“我似乎听到了整个一生的故事!你把你心里的高歌用音乐唱出来了!”
“我在想《一千零一夜》，”那位年轻的小姐说，“在想那盏幸运的神灯，在想阿拉丁!”她用她那天真、泪水汪汪的眼睛向前面凝望。
“阿拉丁!”他重复这个词。
这天晚上是他的生活的转折点。无疑地，这是新的一页的开始。
在这一年流水般的岁月里，他遭遇到了一些什么呢?他的脸上已经失去了那新鲜的光彩，虽然他的眼睛比从前明亮得多。他常常有许多夜晚不睡，但并不是因为他在狂欢、戏闹和牛饮——像许多有名的艺术家一样。他不大讲话，但是比以前更快乐。
“你在沉思默想些什么东西呢?”他的朋友歌唱教师说，“你近来有许多事情都不告诉我!”
“我在想我是多么幸运!”他回答说。“我在想那个穷苦的孩子!我在想阿拉丁!”
①梭伦(Solon，约公元前638～约公元前559)，古雅典政治家和诗人。传为古希腊“七贤”之一。
十七
如果按照一个穷人的儿子所能期望得到的东西来衡量，贝儿现在所过的生活要算是很幸福和愉快的了。他的手头是这样宽裕，正如费利克斯曾经说过的一样，可以大大地招待他的朋友一番。他在想这件事情，他在想他最早的两个朋友——妈妈和祖母。他要为她们和自己举行一次招待会。
这是一个美丽的春天日子。他请这两位老人坐上马车到城外去郊游一番，同时也去看看歌唱教师新近买的一座小村屋。当他们正坐上车子的时候，有一位衣着寒碜的、约摸有三十来岁的女人走了过来。她手里拿着一封由霍夫太太签名的介绍信。
“你不认识我吗?”女人说。“我就是那个大家称为‘小髦发头’的人!髦发现在没有了。它曾经是那么多，现在全都没有了;但是好人仍然还在!我们两人曾同时演出过一个芭蕾舞剧。你的境遇要比我的好得多。你现在成了一个伟大的人。我已经离了两个丈夫，并且现在也不做舞台工作了!”
介绍信请求他送她一架缝纫机。
“我们两人同时演出了哪一个芭蕾舞剧呢?”贝儿问。
“《巴杜亚的暴君》，”她回答说。“我们在那里面演两个小小的侍从：我们穿着蓝天鹅绒的衣服，戴着无边帽。你记得那个小小的玛莉·克纳路普吗?在那个行列中，我正走在你的后面!”
“而且还踢着我的小腿呢!”贝儿笑着说。
“真的吗?”她问。“那么我的步子是迈得太大一点了。不过你走到我的前面很远!比起用腿来，你更善于运用你的脑袋!”于是她掉过她那忧郁的面孔，娇媚地望了他一眼。她相信，她的这句恭维话说得很有风趣。贝儿是很慷慨的：他答应送她一架缝纫机。那些把他赶出芭蕾舞的道路、使他能做出更幸运的事业的人之中，小小的玛莉的确算得是一个很得力的人。
他很快就来到了商人的屋子前面。他爬上妈妈和祖母所住的顶楼。她们已经穿上了她们所有的最好的衣服。碰巧霍夫太太在拜访她们，因此她也被请去郊游了。她的心里曾经斗争了一下，最后写了一个便条送给霍夫先生，说她接受了邀请。
“贝儿净得到一些最好的恭维!”她说。
“我们这次出行也很排场!”妈妈说，“而且是坐这样一辆漂亮和舒服的车子!”祖母说。
离城不远，在御花园的近旁，有一座舒适的小房子。它的四周长满了葡萄和玫瑰，榛子和果树。车子就在这儿停下来，因为这就是那个村屋。一位老太婆来接待他们。她跟妈妈和祖母很熟，因为她常常帮助她们，给她们一些衣服洗和烫。
他们看了看花园，也看了看屋子。这里有一件特别有趣的东西;一间种满了美丽的花儿的玻璃房。它是和起坐间连在一起的。一扇活动门可以一直推进墙里面去。“这倒很像一个侧面布景!”霍夫太太说。“人们只须用手一推，它就不见了，而且坐在这儿就好像是坐在雀笼子里一样，四周全是繁缕草①。这叫做冬天的花园!”
睡房也有它独特可爱的风格。窗子上挂着又长又厚的窗帘，地上铺着柔软的地毯，此外还有两把非常舒服的靠椅，妈妈和祖母觉得非坐一下不可。
“坐在这上面，一个人就要变得懒起来了!”妈妈说。
“一个人会失去体重!”霍夫太太说。“的确，你们两个弄音乐的人，在舞台上忙碌了一阵以后，可以在这里舒舒服服地休息。我也懂得这种滋味!我想，在梦里，我的腿仍然在跳得很高，而霍夫的腿却在我的身旁同样地跳得很高。这不是很好玩么：‘两个人，一条心!’”
“这里的空气很新鲜。比起顶楼上的那两个小房间来，这儿要宽大得多!”贝儿睁着一对发亮的眼睛说。
“一点也不错!”妈妈说。“不过家里也不算坏呀!我的甜蜜的孩子，你就是在那儿生的，你的爸爸和我在那儿住过!”
“这儿要好得多!”祖母说。“这究竟是一整幢房子呀。我高兴，你和那位难得的绅士——歌唱教师——有这样一个安静的家。”
“祖母，我也为你高兴呀!亲爱的好妈妈，我也为你高兴呀!你们两人将永远住在这儿。你们不须再像在城里一样，老是爬很高的楼梯，而且住的地方是那样挤，那样窄!我将请一个人来帮你们忙，而且要使你们像在城里一样，经常能看见我。你们满意不?你们高兴不?”
“这个孩子站在这里，说的一大篇什么话呀!”妈妈说。
“妈妈，这幢房子，这个花园，这里的一切，全都是你的呀!祖母，这也全都是你的呀!我所努力要做到的事情，就是希望你们能得到这件东西。我的朋友——歌唱教师——曾热心地帮助我来把这件东西准备好。”
“孩子，我不懂你这话的意思!”妈妈叫出声来。“你要送给我们一座公馆吗?是的，亲爱的孩子，要你的能力做得到，你是愿意这样办的!”
“我不是开玩笑呀!”他说，“这幢房子是属于你和祖母的呀!”于是他便吻了她们两人一下。她们立刻就落下眼泪来。霍夫太太的眼泪落得也不比她们少。
“这是我生命中最幸福的一刻!”贝儿大声说，同时把她们三个人拥抱了一番。
现在她们得把这儿所有的东西重新看一次，因为这都是属于她们的。她们现在有了那个漂亮的小玻璃房;她们可以把屋顶上的五六盆花搬到这儿来。她们不再只有一个食橱，而有一个宽大的食物储藏室。甚至厨房都是一个温暖而完整的小房间。烤炉和灶连在一起，而且还有一个烟囱;妈妈说，这简直像一个又大又光的熨斗。
“现在你们像我一样，也有一个炉边的角落，”霍夫太太说。“这儿简直是太理想了!人们在这个世界上所能希望得到的东西，你们都得到了!你，我的驰名的朋友，也是一样!”
“并不是一切都有了!”贝儿说。
“那个娇小的妻子自然会来的!”霍夫太太说。“我已经为你准备好了!她是谁，我已经心里有数了!但是我决不会宣扬出来的!你这个了不起的人啊!你看，这一切不是象一出芭蕾舞吗?”她大笑起来，眼睛里流出了眼泪。，妈妈和祖母也是一样。
①原文是Fuglegraes，由Fugle(鸟)和Graes(草)两字合成的，故直译就是“鸟儿吃的草”。
十八
写出一部歌剧的乐谱和内容，同时自己又在舞台上把它演唱出来——这是一件再伟大和幸福不过的工作。我们的年轻朋友有一种与瓦格纳相同的才能：他自己能够创作出戏剧诗来。但是他能不能像瓦格纳一样，有充分的音乐气质来创造出有重要意义的音乐作品呢?
勇气和失望在他的心里轮番交替着。他无法摒除他的这个“固定思想”。多少年来，它像一个幻象似地不时显现出来。现在它成了一件可能的事情——成了他的生命的目标。钢琴上发出的许多自由幻想，正如从“可能国度”的海岸上飞来的候鸟一样，一概都被欢迎。那些旋律，那些具有特征的春天之歌，预示着一个尚未发现的音乐的国度。寡妇男爵夫人在这些东西中看到了某种预兆，正如哥伦布在没有看到地平线上的陆地以前，从海浪漂来的绿枝中就已经有了某种预感一样。
陆地是存在的!幸运的孩子将会到达彼岸。每个吐露出的字都是一颗思想的种子。她——那个年轻、美丽、天真的女子——已经吐露出这个字：阿拉丁。
我们的年轻朋友就是一个像阿拉丁那样幸运的孩子!阿拉丁活在他的心里。他怀着同情和愉快的心情，把这首美丽的东方的诗重复读了不知多少次。不久他就取得了戏剧的形式，一幕接着一幕地发展成为字句和音乐。它越发展，音乐的思想就越变得丰富。当这部诗作，快要完成的时候，它就像是第一次凿开了的音乐的水源：一股新鲜、丰富的泉水从它里面流出来。于是他又重新改造他的作品。几个月以后，一部新的歌剧,以更有力的形式出现了：《阿拉丁》。
谁也不知道这部作品;谁也没有听到过它的一个小节——甚至最同情他的那位朋友歌唱教师都没有听过。在剧院里——这位年轻的歌唱家每天晚上用他的歌声和卓越的表演迷住观众——谁也不曾想到，这位把整个生命和精神投入他所扮演的角色中去的年轻人，还在过一种更紧张的生活。是的，一连有好几个钟头，他在聚精会神地完成一件巨大的音乐作品——从他自己的灵魂里流出来的作品。
歌唱教师从来没有听到过歌剧《阿拉丁》的一个节拍。当它躺在他的桌子上，准备让他通读的时候，它已经是一部充满了音符和歌词的完整作品了。它会得到怎样的评语呢?当然是一个严厉和公正的判词。这位年轻的作曲家一会儿怀着最好的希望，一会儿又觉得这整个的事儿不过是一种自欺欺人的梦想。
两天过去了。关于这件重要的事情他们连一个字也没有提。最后，歌唱教师手里拿着他已经看过的乐谱站在他的面前。他的脸上有一种特殊的表情，但这并不足以说明他的心事。
“我的确没有料到这样的东西!”他说。“我不相信这会是你写的。是的，我还作不出一个明确的判断，因此我还不敢发表意见。在乐器组合方面，偶尔也有些错误——不过这种错误是很容易纠正过来的。有许多个别的地方是非常大胆和创新的，人们必须在恰当的条件下来听才对!正如在瓦格纳的作品中我们可以看到卡尔·玛利亚·韦伯的影响一样，在你的作品中我们可以看到海顿的痕迹。你的新的创造，对我说来还有一定的距离;但你本人则和我是如此接近，要叫我下一个正确的判断是很难的。我最好是不下判断。让我来拥抱你吧!”他大声说，满面都是愉快的笑容。“你是怎样写出这样的作品来的?”他紧紧地用双臂抱着他。“幸福的人啊!”
通过报纸和“闲聊”，全城马上就传播着一些关于这部新歌剧和这位舞台上驰名的年轻歌唱家的传说。
“他不过是一个寒碜的裁缝，把案板上剩下的一些碎料拼凑成一件孩子的衣服罢了!”有些人说。
“这是由他自编、自写、自唱的!”另外有些人说。“他是连上三层楼高的天才!而他的出身更高——他是在顶楼上生的!”
“这里面有一段双簧：他和歌唱教师!”人们说。“他们现在要敲起一唱一和和彼此吹捧的号鼓了。”
歌剧现在正在被大家研读着。凡是表演其中角色的人都不发表意见。“我们不能让人们说，判断是从剧院发出来的!”他们说。他们的面孔都非常严肃，没有表示出任何期望。
“这个作品里的喇叭声太多!”一位自己也作曲的年轻喇叭手说。“希望他自己不要让喇叭顶进他的腰里去!”
“它显示出天才;它写得很漂亮，具有美好的旋律和性格!”也有人这样说。
“明天在这个时候，绞架就搭起来了，”贝儿说。“判词也许是已经决定了!”
“有的人说这是一部杰作!”歌唱教师说。“另外有些人说，这是一部东拼西凑的东西!”
“真理究竟是在什么地方呢?”
“真理!”歌唱教师说，“是的，请告诉我吧!请看上面的那颗星吧!请明确地把它的位置告诉我吧!请闭起你的一只眼睛!你能看见它吗?现在请你只用另一只眼睛再去看它!星已经改变了位置，不在原来的地方了。同一个人的不同的眼睛对事物的看法有这样大的差别，许多人的看法会没有差别吗?”
“不管结果是怎样，”我们的年轻朋友说，“我必须知道我在这个世界上的位置;我必须认识什么我得完成，什么我得放弃。”
夜降临了，决定之夜降临了。
一个知名的艺术家将会达到更高的地位，或者在这次巨大而徒劳的努力中受到屈辱：成功或者失败!这是全城的一个事件。人们在街上通夜站在票房门口，为的是想得到一个座位。剧院是挤得满满的。女士们带来大把的花束。她们将会又把这些花束带回家去呢，还是抛向胜利者的脚下?
寡妇男爵夫人和她美丽的年轻女儿坐在乐队上方的包厢里。观众中有一种不安，有一种低语，有一种骚动。但是当乐队指挥就了位，序曲开始奏起来的时候,这一切就都停止了。
谁不记得亨塞尔的音乐“Sil'oiseau j'etais”①呢?它奏出来真像欢乐的鸟鸣。现在这里也有类似的情景：欢乐的、玩耍着的孩子，愉快的、混杂不清的孩子的声音;杜鹃和他们唱和;画眉在对鸣。这是天真无邪的孩子们的玩耍和欢乐——阿拉丁的心情。接着大雷雨袭来了，这时努勒丁就使出他的威力：一道致命的闪电打下来，把一座山劈成两半。于是一片温柔、诱惑人的声音飘出来了——这是从魔窟里发出的一个声音：化石般的洞口里亮着一盏明灯，上空响着厉害的精灵的拍翅声。这时弯管乐号奏出一首圣诗;它是那么温存、柔和，好像是从一个孩子嘴里唱出的一样。起初是一管单号在奏;接着又有另外一管，最后就有许多管一起奏起来了。它们在同一的调子中融成一片，然后渐渐地扩展到丰满而有力的程度，好像是最后审判日的号角一样。神灯已经在阿拉丁的手里了!一股壮丽的旋律的狂澜涌现了出来。只有精灵的首领和音乐的巨匠才能够发出这样的声音。
在疯狂的掌声中，幕慢慢地开启了。在乐队指挥的指挥棒下，这掌声就像是号角齐鸣的进行曲。一个早熟的、漂亮的男孩子在演唱。他长得那么高大，但又是那么天真。他就是阿拉丁，在一些别的孩子中跳跃。祖母一定马上就会说：“这就是贝儿。这简直跟他在家里、在顶楼上、在炉子和衣柜之间的跳跃没有丝毫分别。看他的心情,他连一岁也没有长大!”
在他走下石洞去取那盏神灯之前，努勒丁命令他祈祷。他是用多大的信心和热忱念出那段祈祷文啊!他的歌声把所有的观众都迷住了。这是因为他心中具有纯洁和虔诚的旋律，才能唱出这样的歌呢，还是因为他具有白璧无瑕的天真?欢呼声简直没有休止。
把这支歌重唱一次可以说是一种亵渎的行为。大家要求再听这支歌，可是没有得到反应。幕落下来了。第一幕结束。
所有的批评家都变得目瞪口呆。大家都怀着一种愉悦的心情，静待进一步的欣赏和享受。
乐池里飘出了几行音乐，于是幕启了。音乐的旋律，像格鲁克的《阿尔米德》②和莫扎特的《魔笛》一样，把每一个人都深深地吸引住了。阿拉丁站在那个奇异的花园里的场面展开了。一种柔和、低微的音乐从花朵和石头里飘出来，从泉水和深深的峡谷里飘出来。种种不同的旋律融汇在一起，形成一个伟大的和声。在合唱中，人们可以听到精灵的飞行。这声音一忽儿远，一会儿近，慢慢扩展到极高的限度，而又忽然消逝。阿拉丁的独白之歌，被这些和谐的调子衬托着，慢慢地升上来。它就是人们所谓的伟大的抒情诗，但它跟人物和场面是配合得那么好，它成了整个歌剧不可缺少的部分。这种洪亮、引起共鸣的歌声，这种从心里发出的、热情的音乐，使得大家鸦雀无声，陷入狂热的境地。当他在众精灵的歌声中伸出手取得了那盏幸运的神灯的时候，这种热忱高涨到了不可再高的地步。
花朵像雨点似地从各方面抛来。他的面前展开了一块由鲜花铺成的地毯。
对于这位年轻的艺术家说来，这是他生命中多么伟大、多么崇高的一个时刻啊!他觉得，比这还伟大的一个时刻永远不会再来。一个由月桂花所编成的花环碰着他的前胸，然后又滚下来，落在他的脚下。他已经看见了这是从谁的手里抛出来的。他看到坐在离舞台最近的一个包厢里的那个年轻女子——那个年轻的女男爵。她慢慢地站起来，像一位代表“美”的精灵，在为他的胜利而欢呼。
一把火透过了他的全身;他的心在膨胀——这是从来没有过的现象。他弯下腰来，捡起这个花环，把它按在自己的心上。就在这同时，他向后倒下去了。昏过去了吗?死了吗?这是怎么一回事呢?幕落下来了。
“死了!”这是一个回音。在胜利的快乐中死了，像索福克勒斯在奥林匹亚竞技的时候一样，像多瓦尔生在剧院里昕贝多芬的交响乐的时候一样。他心里的一根动脉管爆炸了;像闪电似地，他在这儿的日子结束了——在人间的欢乐中，在完成了他对人间的任务以后，没有丝毫苦痛地结束了。他比成千上万的人都要幸运!
①亨塞尔(Adolf von Henselt，1814-1889)是德国钢琴家和作曲家。“Si l' oiseau j' etais”(《假如我是一只鸟》)是他的一支名曲。
②格鲁克(Christoph Willibald von Gluck，1714-1787)，德国作曲家。
幸运的贝儿英文版：
Lucky Peer
IN the principal street there stood a fine old-fashioned house; the wall about the court-yard had bits of glass worked into it, so that when the sun or moon shone, it was as if covered with diamonds. That was a sign of wealth, and there was wealth inside there; folks said that the merchant was a man who could just put away two barrels of gold in his best parlor; yes, could put a heap of gold-pieces, as a savings bank against the future, outside the door of the room where his little son was born.
This little fellow had arrived in the rich house. There was great joy from cellar up to the garret; and up there, there was still greater joy an hour or two afterward. The warehouseman and his wife lived up there, and here too there entered just then a little son, given by our Lord, brought by the stork, and exhibited by the mother. And here too there was a heap outside the door, quite accidentally; but it was not a gold-heap—it was a heap of sweepings.
The rich merchant was a very considerate, good man; his wife, delicate and gentle-born, dressed well, was pious, and, besides, was kind and good to the poor. Everybody congratulated these two people on now having a little son, who would grow up, and, like his father, be rich and happy. At the font the little boy was called “FELIX,” which means in Latin “lucky,” and that he was, and his parents still more.
The warehouseman, a right sound fellow, and good to the bottom of his heart, and his wife, an honest and industrious woman, were blessed by all who knew them; how lucky they were at getting their little boy, and he was called “PEER !”1
The boy on the first floor and the boy in the garret each got just as many kisses from his parents, and just as much sunshine from our Lord; but still they were placed a little differently,—one down-stairs, and one up. Peer sat the highest, away up in the garret, and he had his own mother for a nurse; little Felix had a stranger for his nurse, but she was a good and honest girl—you could see that in her character-book. The rich child had a pretty little wagon, and was drawn about by his spruce nurse; the child from the garret was carried in the arms of his own mother, both when he was in his Sunday clothes, and when he had his every-day things on; and he was just as much pleased.
They were both pretty children, they both kept growing, and soon could show with their hands how tall they were, and say single words in their mother tongue. Equally sweet, equally dainty and petted were they both. As they grew up they had a like pleasure out of the merchant’s horses and carriages. Felix got permission from his nurse to sit by the coachman and look at the horses; he fancied himself driving. Peer got permission to sit at the garret window and look down into the yard when the master and mistress went out to drive, and when they were fairly gone, he placed two chairs, one in front, the other behind, up there in the room, and so he drove himself; he was the real coachman— that was a little more than fancying himself to be the coachman.
They had noticed each other, these two, but it was not until they were two years old that they spoke to each other. Felix went elegantly dressed in silk and velvet, with bare knees, after the English style. “The poor child will freeze!” said the family in the garret. Peer had trousers that came down to his ankles, but one day his clothes were torn right across his knees, so that he had as much of a draught, and was just as much undressed as the merchant’s little delicate boy. Felix came with his mother and wanted to go out; Peer came with his, and wanted to go in.
“Give little Peer your hand,” said the merchant’s lady. “You two can talk to each other.”
And one said “Peer!” and the other said “Felix!” Yes, that was all they said that time.
The rich lady petted her boy, but there was one who petted Peer just as much, and that was his grandmother. She was weak-sighted, and yet she saw much more in little Peer than his father or mother could see; yes, more than anybody at all could discover.
“The dear child,” said she, “is going to get on in the world. He is born with a gold apple in his hand. There is the shining apple!” And she kissed the child’s little hand. His parents could see nothing, nor Peer either, but as he grew to know more, no doubt he would find that out too.
“That is such a story, such a real wonder-story, that grandmother tells!” said the parents.
Indeed grandmother could tell stories, and Peer was never tired of hearing always the same ones. She taught him a psalm and to repeat the Lord’s Prayer, and he knew it not as a gabble but as words which meant some-thing; every single petition in it she explained to him. Especially he thought about what grandmother said on the words: “Give us this day our daily bread;” he was to understand that it was necessary for one to get wheat bread, for another to get black bread; one must have a great house when he had a great deal of company; another, in small circumstances, could live quite as happily in a little room in the garret. “So each person has what he calls ‘daily bread.’”
Peer had regularly his good daily bread, and very delightful days, too, but they were not to last always. Stern years of war began; the young were to go away, the old to stay at home. Peer’s father was among those who were enrolled, and soon it was heard that he was one of the first who fell in battle against the victorious enemy.
There was terrible grief in the little room in the garret. The mother cried, the grandmother and little Peer cried; and every time one of the neighbors came up to see them, they talked about “father,” and then they cried all together. The widow, meanwhile, received permission, the first year, to lodge rent free, and afterward she was to pay only a small rent. The grandmother stayed with the mother, who supported herself by washing for several “single fine gentlemen,” as she called them. Peer had neither sorrow nor want. He had his fill of meat and drink, and grandmother told him stories so extraordinary and wonderful about the wide world, that he asked her, one day, if they two might not go on Sunday to foreign lands, and come home again as prince and princess, with gold crowns on.
“I am too old for that,” said grandmother; “and you must first learn a terrible lot of things, become great and strong; but you must always be a good and affectionate child—just as you are now.”
Peer rode around the room on hobbyhorses; he had two such; but the merchant’s son had a real live horse; it was so little that it might as well have been called a baby-horse, as Peer called it, and it never could become any bigger. Felix rode it about in the yard; he even rode outside the gate with his father and a riding-master from the king’s stable. For the first half-hour Peer did not like his horses, and would not ride them—they were not real. He asked his mother why he could not have a real horse like little Felix; and his mother said:
“Felix lives down on the first floor, close by the stables, but you live high up, under the roof. One cannot have horses up in the garret except like those you have; do you ride on them.”
And so Peer rode: first to the chest of drawers, the great mountain full of treasures; both Peer’s Sunday clothes and his mother’s were there, and there were the shining silver dollars which she laid aside for rent He rode to the stove, which he called the black bear; it slept all summer long, but when winter came it must do something: warm the room and cook the meals.
Peer had a godfather who usually came every Sunday in winter and got a good warm dinner. It was rather a coming down for him, said the mother and the grandmother. He had begun as a coachman; he took to drink and slept at his post, and that neither a soldier nor a coachman may do. Then he became a carter and drove a cart, and sometimes a drosky for gentlefolk; but now he drove a dirt-cart and went from door to door, swinging his rattle, “snurre-rurre-ud!” and out from all the houses came the girls and housewives with their buckets full, and turned these into the cart: rags and tags, ashes and rubbish were all turned in. One day Peer had come down from the garret, his mother had gone to town, and he stood at the open gate, and there outside was godfather with his cart.
“Will you take a drive?” he asked. Right willingly would Peer, but only as far as the corner. His eyes shone as he sat on the seat alone with godfather and was allowed to hold the whip. Peer drove with real live horses, drove quite to the corner. His mother came along just then; she looked rather dubious. It was not so grand to her to see her own little son riding on a dirt-cart. He must get down at once. Still she thanked godfather; but when they reached home she forbade Peer to take that excursion again.
One day he went again down to the gate. There was no godfather there to entice him off for a drive, but there were other allurements three or four small street urchins were down in the gutter, poking about to see what they could find that had been lost or had hidden itself there. They had often found a button or a copper coin; but they had quite as often scratched themselves with a broken bottle, or pricked themselves with a pin, which was just now the case. Peer must join them, and when he got down among the gutter-stones he found a silver coin.
Another day he was down on his knees again, digging with the other boys. They only got dirty fingers; he found a gold ring, and showed, with sparkling eyes, his lucky find, and then the others threw dirt at him, and called him Lucky Peer; they would not let him be with them then when they poked in the gutter.
Back of the merchant’s yard there was some low ground which was to be filled up for building lots; gravel and ashes were carted and tipped out there. Great heaps lay about. Godfather drove his cart, but Peer was not to drive with him. The street boys dug in the heaps; they dug with a stick and with their bare hands. They were always finding one thing or another which seemed worth picking up. Hither came little Peer. They saw him and cried out:—
“Clear out, Lucky Peer!” And when he came nearer, they flung lumps of dirt at him. One of these struck against his wooden shoe and fell to pieces. Something shining dropped out; Peer took it up; it was a little heart made of amber. He ran home with it. The rest did not notice that even when they threw dirt at him he was a child of luck.
The silver skilling which he had found was laid away in his little savings bank; the ring and the amber heart were shown down stairs to the merchants wife, because the mother wanted to know if they were among the “things found” that ought to be given notice of to the police.
How the eyes of the merchant’s wife shone on seeing the ring! It was no other than her own engagement ring, which she had lost three years before; so long had it lain in the gutter. Peer was well rewarded, and the money rattled in his little box. The amber heart was a cheap thing, the lady said; Peer might just as well keep that. At night the amber heart lay on the bureau, and the grandmother lay in bed.
“Eh! what is it that burns so!” said she. “It looks as if some candle were lighted there.” She got up to see, and it was the little heart of amber. Ah, the grandmother with her weak eyes often saw more than all others could see. Now she had her private thoughts about this. The next morning she took a small strong ribbon, drew it through the opening at the top of the heart, and put it round her little grandson’s neck.
“You must never take it off; except to put a new ribbon into it; and you must not show it either to other boys. If they should take it from you, you would have the stomach-ache!” That was the only dreadful sickness little Peer had thus far known. There was a strange power too in the heart. Grandmother showed him that when she rubbed it with her hand, and a little straw was laid by it, the straw seemed to be alive and sprang to the heart of amber, and would not let it go.
II.
THE merchant’s son had a tutor who heard him say his lessons alone, and walked out with him alone. Peer was also to have an education, so he went to school with a great quantity of other boys. They studied together, and that was more delightful than going alone with a tutor. Peer would not change.
He was a lucky Peer, but godfather was also a lucky Peer,2 for all he was not called Peer. He won a prize in the lottery, of two hundred rix-dollars, on a ticket which he shared with eleven others. He went at once and bought some better clothes, and he looked very well in them. Luck never comes alone, it always has company, and it did this time. Godfather gave up his dirt-cart and joined the theatre.
“For what in the world,” said grandmother. “is he going to the theatre? What does he go as?”
As a machinist. That was a real getting on, and he was now quite another man, and took a wonderful deal of enjoyment in the comedy, which he always saw from the top or from the side. The most charming thing was the ballet, but that indeed gave him the hardest work, and there was always some danger from fire. They danced both in heaven and on earth. That was something for little Peer to see, and one evening when there was to be a dress rehearsal of a new ballet, in which they were all dressed and adorned as in the evening when people pay to see all the fine show, he had permission to bring Peer with him, and put him in a place where he could see the whole.
It was a Scripture ballet—Samson. The Philistines danced about him, and he tumbled the whole house down over them and himself; but there were fire-engines and firemen on hand in case of any accident.
Peer had never seen a comedy, still less a ballet. He put on his Sunday clothes and went with godfather to the theatre. It was just like a great drying-loft, with ever so many curtains and screens, great openings in the floor, lamps and lights. There was a host of nooks and crannies up and down, and people came out from these just as in a great church with its balcony pews.3 The floor went down quite steeply, and there Peer was placed, and told to stay there till it was all finished and he was sent for. He had three sandwiches in his pocket, so that he need not starve.
Soon it grew lighter and lighter: there came up in front, just as if straight out of the earth, a number of musicians with both flutes and violins. At the side where Peer sat people came dressed as if they were in the street; but there came also knights with gold helmets, beautiful maidens in gauze and flowers, even angels all in white with wings on their hacks. They were placed up and down, on the floor and up in the “balcony pews,” to be looked at. They were the whole force of the ballet dancers; but Peer did not know that. He believed they belonged in the fairy tales his grandmother had told him about. Then there came a woman, who was the most beautiful of all, with a gold helmet and spear; she looked out over all the others and sat between an angel and an imp. Ah! how much there was to see, and yet the ballet was not even begun.
There was a moment of quiet. A man dressed in black moved a little fairy wand over all the musicians, and then they began to play, so that there was a whistling of music, and the wall itself began to rise. One looked out on to a flower-garden, where the sun shone, and all the people danced and leaped. Such a wonderful sight had Peer never imagined. There the soldiers marched, and there was fighting, and there where the guilds and the mighty Samson with his love. But she was as wicked as she was beautiful: she betrayed him. The Philistines plucked his eyes out; he had to grind in the mill and be set up for mockery in the dancing hall; but then he laid hold of the strong pillars which held the roof up, and shook them and the whole house; it fell, and there burst forth wonderful flames of red and green fire.
Peer could have sat there his whole life long and looked on, even if the sandwiches were all eaten—and they were all eaten.
Now here was something to tell about when he got home. He was not to be got off to bed. He stood on one leg and laid the other upon the table—that was what Samson’s love and all the other ladies did. He made a treadmill out of grandmother’s chair, and upset two chairs and a bolster over himself to show how the dancing-hall came down. He showed this, and he gave it with all the music that belonged to it; there was no talking in the ballet. He sang high and low, with words and without; there was no connection in it; it was just like a whole opera. The most noticeable thing, meanwhile, of all was his beautiful voice, clear as a bell, but no one spoke of that.
Peer was before to have been a grocer’s boy, to mind prunes and lump sugar; now he found there was something very much finer, and that was to get into the Samson story and dance in the ballet. There were a great many poor children that went that way, said the grandmother, and became fine and honored people; still no little girl of her family should ever get permission to go that way; a boy—well, he stood more firmly.
Peer had not seen a single one of the little girls fall before the whole house fell, and then they all fell together, he said.
Peer certainly must be a ballet-dancer.
“He gives me no rest!” said his mother. At last, his grandmother promised to take him one day to the ballet-master, who was a fine gentleman, and had his own house, like the merchant. Would Peer ever get to that? Nothing is impossible for our Lord. Peer had a gold apple in his hand when he was a child. Such had lain in his hands; perhaps it was also in his legs.
Peer went to the ballet-master, and knew him at once; it was Samson himself. His eyes had not suffered at all at the hands of the Philistines. That was only a part of the play, he was told. And Samson looked kindly and pleasantly on him, and told him to stand up straight, look right at him, and show him his ankle. Peer showed his whole foot, and leg too.
“So he got a place in the ballet,” said grandmother.
It was easily brought about at the ballet-master’s house; but first his mother and grandmother must needs make other preparations, and talk with people who knew about these things; first with the merchant’s wife, who thought it a good career for a pretty, well-formed boy without any prospect, like Peer. Then they talked with Miss Frandsen; she understood all about the ballet. At one time, in the younger days of grandmother, she had been the most favorite danseuse at the theatre; she had danced goddesses and princesses, had been cheered and applauded whenever she came out; but then she grew older,—we all do—and then she no longer had principal parts; she had to dance behind the younger ones; and finally she went behind all the dancers quite into the dressing-room, where The dressed the others to be goddesses and princesses.
“So it goes!” said Miss Frandsen. “The theatre road is a delightful one to travel, but it is full of thorns. Chicane grows there,—chicane!”
That was a word Peer did not understand; but he came to understand it quite well.
“He is determined to go into the ballet,” said his mother.
“He is a pious Christian child, that he is,” said grandmother.
“And well brought up,” said Miss Frandsen. “ Well bred and moral! that was I in my heyday.”
And so Peer went to dancing-school, and got some summer clothes and thin-soled dancing-shoes to make it easier. All the old dancers kissed him, and said that he was a boy good enough to eat.
He was told to stand up, stick his legs out, and hold on by a post so as not to fall, while he learned to kick first with his right leg, then with his left. It was not so hard for him as for most of the others. The ballet-master clapped him on the back and said he would soon be in the ballet; he should be a king’s child, who was carried on shields and wore a gold crown. That was practised at the dancing school, and rehearsed at the theatre itself.
The mother and grandmother must go to see little Peer in all his glory, and they looked, and they both cried, for all it was so splendid. Peer in all his glory and show had not seen them at all; but the merchant’s family he had seen; they sat in the loge nearest the stage. Little Felix was with them in his test clothes. He wore buttoned gloves, just like grown-up gentlemen, and sat with an opera-glass at his eyes the whole evening, although he could see perfectly well—again just like grown-up gentlemen. He looked at Peer. Peer looked at him; and Peer was a king’s child with a gold crown on. This evening brought the two children in closer relation to one another.
Some days after, as they met each other in the yard, Felix went up to Peer and told him he had seen him when he was a prince. He knew very well that he was not a prince any longer, but then he had worn a prince’s clothes and had a gold crown on.
“I shall wear them again on Sunday,” said Peer.
Felix did not see him then, but he thought about it the whole evening. He would have liked very well to be in Peer’s shoes; he had not Miss Frandsen’s warning that the theatre way was a thorny one, and that chicane grew on it; neither did Peer know this yet, but he would very soon learn it.
His young companions the dancing children were not all as good as they ought to be for all that they sometimes were angels with wings to them. There was a little girl, Malle Knallemp, who always, when she was dressed as page, and Peer was a page, stepped maliciously on the side of his foot, so as to see his stockings; there was a bad boy who always was sticking pins in his back, and one day he ate Peer’s sandwiches by mistake; but that was impossible, for Peer had some meat-pie with his sandwich, and the other boy had only bread and butter. He could not have made a mistake.
It would be in vain to recite all the vexations that Peer endured in the two years, and the worst was not yet,—that was to come. There was a ballet to be brought out called The Vampire. In it the smallest dancing children were dressed as bats; wore gray tights that fitted snugly to their bodies; black gauze wings were stretched from their shoulders, and so they were to run on tiptoe, as if they were just flying, and then they were to whirl round on the floor. Peer could do this especially well; but his trousers and jacket, all of one piece, were old and worn; the threads did not hold together; so that, just as he whirled round before the eyes of all the people, there was a rip right down his back, straight from his neck down to where the legs are fastened in, and all his short, little white shirt was to be seen.
All the people laughed. Peer saw it, and knew that he was ripped all down the back; he whirled and whirled, but it grew worse and worse. Folks laughed louder and louder; the other vampires laughed with them, and whirled into him, and all the more dreadfully when the people clapped and shouted bravo!
“That is for the ripped vampire!” said the dancing children; and so they always called him “Ripperip.”
Peer cried; Miss Frandsen comforted him. “’Tis only chicane,” said she; and now Peer knew what chicane was.
Besides the dancing-school, they had another one attached to the theatre, where the children were taught to cipher and write, to learn history and geography; ay, they had a teacher in religion, for it is not enough to know how to dance there is something more in the world than wearing out dancing-shoes. Here, too, Peer was quick,—the very luckiest of all,—and got plenty of good marks; but his companions still called him “Ripperip.” It was only a joke; but at last he would not stand it any longer, and he struck out and boxed one of the boys, so that he was black and blue under the left eye, and had to have it whitened in the evening when he was to go in the ballet. Peer was talked to sharply by the dancing-master, and more harshly by the sweeping-woman, for it was her son he had punished.
