out again. The woman screamed and struck at him with the tongs; the children laughed and screamed and tried to catch him. But he escaped luckily.
The door was open; the poor duckling slipped out among the bushes and lay down exhausted in the snow.
It is very sad to relate all the misery and privations which the poor little duckling endured during the hard winter. But when it passed he found himself[8] one morning in a moor, amongst the rushes. He felt the warm sun and heard the lark. It was a beautiful spring.
Then the young bird felt that his wings were strong. He flapped them against his sides and rose high into the air. They bore him onwards, and finally he found himself in a large garden. The apple trees were in full blossom, and the fragrant elders bent their long green branches down to the stream. Everything looked beautiful in the freshness of early spring. From a thicket came three beautiful white swans. They were rustling their feathers and swimming lightly over the water. The duckling saw these lovely birds and felt more unhappy than ever.
“I will fly to these royal birds,” he exclaimed, “and they will kill me because. I am very ugly, and I must not approach them. But it does not matter. Let them kill me. It’s better. The ducks peck me, the hens beat me, the maiden who feeds the poultry pushes me. If they don’t kill me, I’ll starve with hunger in the winter”.
Then he flew to the water and swam towards the beautiful swans. When they saw the stranger they rushed to meet him.
“Kill me,” said the poor bird and he bent his head down to the surface of the water and awaited death.
But what did he see in the clear stream below? His own image-no longer a dark-gray bird, ugly and disagreeable, but a graceful and beautiful swan!
He was born in a duck’s nest in a farmyard but he came from a swan’s egg! He now felt glad. He suffered sorrow and trouble, and it enabled him to enjoy all the pleasure and happiness around him. The great swans swam round the newcomer and stroked his neck with their beaks.
Into the garden presently came some little children and threw bread and cake into the water.
“See,” cried the youngest, “there is a new one;” and the rest were delighted, and ran to their father and mother. They were dancing and clapping their hands and shouting joyously,
“There is another swan here; a new one!”
Then they threw more bread and cake into the water and said,
“The new swan is the most beautiful of all, he is so young and pretty!”
And the old swans bowed their heads before him.
Then he felt quite ashamed and hid his head under his wing. He did not know what to do, he was so happy! But he was not at all proud. They persecuted and despised him for his ugliness, and now the said he was the most beautiful of all the birds! Even the elder tree bent down its boughs into the water before him, and the sun shone warm and bright.
Then he rustled his feathers, curved his slender neck, and cried joyfully, from the depths of his heart,
“I never dreamed of such happiness while I was the despised ugly duckling!”
The Emperor’s New Clothes
Many years ago there lived an Emperor who was so monstrous fond of fine new clothes that he spent all his money on it. He wanted to be really smart. He didn’t care about his army, he didn’t didn’t care about his people. He only wanted to show his new clothes. He had a coat for every hour in the day. As people say about a king, that “he’s holding a council”, so in this country they always said, “The Emperor is in his dressing room”.
In the great city where he lived, life was very pleasant. Lots of strangers came there every day; and one day there arrived two swindlers. They said that they were weavers, and said they knew how to make the loveliest dress in the world. Not only were the colours and patterns extraordinarily pretty, but the clothes had this marvellous property: they were invisible to anyone who could not work well or was intolerably stupid.
“Very excellent clothes those must be,” thought the Emperor; “if I put them on, I’ll be able to tell which are the men in my realm who aren’t fit for the posts they hold. I’ll be able to tell clever people from stupid ones[9]. I must have these clothes!”
He gave the two swindlers a large sum in advance, and they began their work. They set up two looms and pretended to be working. But they hadn’t a vestige of anything on the looms. In hot haste they demanded the finest of silk and the best of gold, which they stuffed into their own pockets. And they worked at the bare looms till any hour of the night.
“I want to know how they are working,” thought the Emperor. But to tell the truth he was afraid. Anyone who was stupid or unsuited to his post couldn’t see the dress. Of course, he was sure that he needn’t be afraid for himself. but he decided to send someone else first. Everybody in the whole city knew what a marvellous power was in the dress. So everybody was agog to see how incompetent and how stupid his neighbour was.
“I’ll send my good old minister to the weavers,” thought the Emperor; “he can quite well see everything. He’s an intelligent man, and suited for his post”.
So the old minister went into the hall where the two swindlers were sitting working at the bare loom.
“My God!” thought the old minister. He was staring with all his eyes; “I can’t see anything”; but he didn’t say so.
Both the swindlers begged him to step nearer, and asked if here were not a pretty pattern and beautiful colours. They pointed to the bare looms, and the poor old minister was staring at it, but he couldn’t see anything, because there was nothing.
“Oh God!” thought he; “can I be stupid? I never thought so, and nobody must know it. Can I be unfit for my office? No, no! I won’t say anybody about my defeat”.
“Well, have you nothing to say about it?” said the one who was weaving.
“Oh, it’s charming! Most delightful!” said the old minister. He was looking through his spectacles. “The pattern! The colour! Yes, indeed, I must tell the Emperor I am infinitely pleased with it”.
“We are glad indeed to hear it,” said both the weavers, and proceeded to describe the colours and the uncommon pattern. The old minister listened carefully so as to be able to repeat it when he went back to the Emperor. So he did. The swindlers now demanded more money and more silk and gold for the weaving. They pocketed it all. And, as before, they were weaving at the bare loom.
Very soon, the Emperor sent another honest official over to see the progress. Will the clothes be ready soon? The official was just like the minister. He looked and looked, but there was nothing there but the empty loom. He saw nothing.
“Well, isn’t that fine?” said both the swindlers. They were exhibiting and explaining the lovely patterns that weren’t there at all.
“Stupid, I am not,” thought the man; “it must be my nice post that I’m not fit for? That is a good joke! But I mustn’t tell people anything”.
So he praised the dress which he couldn’t see, and assured the swindlers of his pleasure in the pretty colours and the exquisite pattern.
“Yes, it is positively
found himself – очутился
to tell clever people from stupid ones – отличить умных людей от глупых
