|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 45
It happened in this way, she thought: the trees, after sleeping
peacefully and quietly the whole winter, suddenly began to dream.
They dreamt that summer had come. They seemed to see the fields
dressed in green grass and waving corn; the hawthorn shimmered with
new-blown roses; brooks and ponds were spread with the leaves of
the water-lily; the stones were hidden under the creeping tendrils
of the twin flower, and the forest carpet was thick with star
flowers. And amid all this that was clothed and decked out, the
trees saw themselves standing gaunt and naked. They began to feel
ashamed of their nakedness, as often happens in dreams.
In their confusion and embarrassment, the trees fancied that all
the rest were making fun of them. The bumblebees came buzzingly up
to mock at them, the magpies laughed them to scorn, while the other
birds sang taunting ditties.
"Where shall we find something to put on?" asked the trees in
despair; but they had not a leaf to their names on either twig or
branch, and their distress was so terrible that it awakened them.
And glancing about, drowsy like, their first thought was: "Thank
God it was only a dream! There is certainly no summer hereabout.
It's lucky for us that we haven't overslept."
But as they looked around more carefully, they noticed that the
streams were clear of ice, grass blades and crocuses beeped out
from their beds of soil, and under their own ark the sap was
running. "Spring is here at all events," said the trees, "so it
was well we awoke. We have slept long enough for this year; now
it's high time we were getting dressed."
So the birches hurriedly put on some sticky pale green leaves, and
the maples a few green flowers. The leaves of the alder came forth
in such a crinkly and unfinished state that they looked quite
malformed, but the slender leave: of the willow slipped out of
their buds smooth and shapely from the start.
Gertrude smiled to herself as she walked along and thought this
up. She only wished she had been alone with Ingmar so she could
have told it all to him.
They had a long way to go to get to the Ingmar Farm--more than an
hour's tramp. They followed the riverside; all the while Gertrude
kept walking a little behind the others. Her fancy had begun to
play around the red glow of the sunset, which flamed now above the
river, now above the strand. Gray alder and green birch were
enveloped by the shimmer, flashing red one instant, the next taking
on their natural hues.
Suddenly Ingmar stopped, and broke off in the middle of something
he was telling.
"What's the matter, Ingmar?" asked Gunhild.
Ingmar, pale as a ghost, stood gazing at something in front of him.
The others saw only a wide plain covered with grain fields and
encircled by a range of hills, and in the centre of the plain a big
farmstead. At that moment the glow of sunset rested upon the farm;
all the window pans glittered, and the old roofs and walls had a
bright red glimmer about them.
Gertrude promptly stepped up to the others, and after a quick
glance at Ingmar, she drew Gunhild and Gabriel aside.
"We mustn't question him about anything around here," she said
under her breath. "That place over yonder is the Ingmar Farm. The
sight of it has probably made him sad. He hasn't been at home in
two years--not since he lost all his money."
The road which they had taken was the one leading past the farm
and down to Strong Ingmar's cabin, at the edge of the forest.
Soon Ingmar came running after, calling, "Hadn't we better go this
way instead?" Then he led them in on a bypath that wound around the
edge of the forest, and by which they could reach the cabin without
having to cross the farm proper.
"You know Strong Ingmar, I suppose?" said Gabriel.
"Oh, yes," young Ingmar replied. "We used to be good friends in the
old days."
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|