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安徒生童話故事第82篇：香腸栓熬的湯Soup from a Sausage Skewer
引導語：香腸栓大家吃過?下面是小編收集的安徒生童話故事《香腸栓熬的湯》，歡迎大家閱讀!
1.香腸栓熬的湯
“昨天有一個出色的宴會!”一個年老的女耗子對一個沒有參加這盛會的耗子說。“我在離老耗子王的第二十一個座位上坐著，所以我的座位也不算太壞!你要不要聽聽菜單子?出菜的次序安排得非常好——發霉的面包、臘肉皮、蠟燭頭、香腸——接著同樣的菜又從頭到尾再上一次。這簡直等于兩次連續的宴會。大家的心情很歡樂，閑聊了一些愉快的話，像跟自己家里的人在一起一樣。什么都吃光了，只剩下香腸尾巴上的香腸栓。我們于是就談起香腸栓來，接著就談起'香腸栓熬的湯'這個問題。的確，每個人都聽到過這件事，但是誰也沒有嘗過這種湯，更談不上知道怎樣去熬它。大家提議：誰發明這種湯，就為他干一杯，因為這樣的人配做一個濟貧院的院長!這句話不是很有風趣的么?老耗子王站起來說，誰會把這種湯做得最好吃，他就把她立為皇后。研究時間為一年。”
“這倒很不壞!”另一個耗子說，“不過這種湯的做法是怎樣呢?”
“是的，怎樣做法呢?”這正是所有的女耗子——年輕的和年老的——所要問的一個問題。她們都想當皇后，但是她們卻怕麻煩，不愿意跑到廣大的世界里去學習做這種湯;而她們卻非這樣辦不可!不過每個耗子都沒有離開家和那些自己所熟悉的角落的本事。在外面誰也不能找到乳餅殼或者臭臘肉皮吃。不，誰也會挨餓，可能還會被貓子活活地吃掉呢。
無疑地，這種思想把大部分的耗子都嚇住了，不敢到外面去求得知識。只有四只耗子站出來說，她們愿意出去。她們是年輕活潑的，可是很窮。世界有四個方向，她們每位想出一個方向;問題是誰的運氣最好。每位帶著一根香腸栓，為的是不要忘記這次旅行的目的。她們把它當做旅行的手杖。
她們是在5月初出發的。到第二年5月開始的時候，她們才回來。不過她們只有三位報到。第四位不見了，也沒有送來任何關于她的消息，而現在已經是決賽的日期了。
“最愉快的事情也總不免有悲哀的成分!”耗子王說。但是他下了一道命令，把周圍幾里路以內的耗子都請來。她們將在廚房里集合。那三位旅行過的耗子將單獨站在一排;至于那個失了蹤的第四個耗子，大家豎了一個香腸栓，上面掛著一塊黑紗作為紀念。在那三只耗子沒有發言以前，在耗子王沒有作補充講話以前，誰也不能發表意見。
現在我們聽吧!
①香腸的末梢總是打著結;這個結總是連在一個木栓上，以便于掛起來，這叫香腸栓。“香腸栓熬的湯”是丹麥的一個成語，意思是：“閑扯大半天，都是廢話!”
2.第一只小耗子的旅行見聞
“當我走到茫茫的大世界里去的時候，“小耗子說，”像許多與我年紀相仿的耗子一樣，我以為我已經知道了所有的東西。不過實際情況不是這樣。一個人要花許多年的工夫才能達到這種目的。我立刻動身航海去。我坐在一條開往北方的船上。我聽說，在海上當廚子的人要知道怎樣隨機應變。不過如果一個人有許多臘肉、整桶的腌肉和發霉的面粉的時候，隨機應變也就夠容易了。人們吃得很講究!但是人們卻沒有辦法學會用香腸栓做湯。我們航行了許多天和許多夜。船簸動得很厲害，我們身上都打濕了。當我們最后到達了我們要去的地方的時候，我就離開了船。那是在遙遠的北方。
“離開自己家里的一個角落遠行，真是一件快事。坐在船上，這當然也算是一種角落。但是忽然間你卻來到數百里以外的地方，住在外國。那里有許多原始森林，長滿了赤楊。它們發出的香氣是太強烈了!這個我不太喜歡!這些原始植物發出辛辣的氣味，弄得我打起噴嚏來，同時也想起香腸來。那兒還有許多湖。我走近一看，水是非常清亮的;不過在遠處看來，湖水都是像墨一般地黑。白色的天鵝浮在湖水上面，起初我以為天鵝是泡沫。它們一動也不動。不過當我看到它們飛和走動的時候，我就認出它們了。它們屬于鵝這個家族，從它們走路的樣子就可以看得出來。誰也隱藏不住自己的家族的外貌!我總是跟我的族人在一起。我總是跟松鼠和田鼠來往。它們無知得可怕，特別是關于烹調的事情——我出國去旅行也是為了這個問題。我們認為香腸栓可以做湯的這種想法，在他們看來，簡直是驚人的思想。所以這件事立刻就傳遍了整個的森林。不過他們認為這件事是無論如何也做不到的。我也沒有想到，就在這兒，在這天晚上，我居然探求到做這湯的秘法。這時正是炎熱的夏天，因此——它們說——樹林才發出這樣強烈的氣味，草才是那么香，湖水才是那么黑而亮，上面還浮著白色的天鵝。
“在樹林的邊緣上，在四五座房屋之間，豎著一根竿子。它和船的主桅差不多一般高，頂上懸著花環和緞帶。這就是大家所謂的五月柱。年輕女子和男子圍著它跳舞，配合著提琴手所奏出的提琴調子，高聲唱歌。太陽下山以后，他們還在月光中盡情地歡樂了一番，不過一個小耗子跟一個森林舞會有什么關系呢?我坐在柔軟的青苔上，緊緊地捏著我的香腸栓。月亮特別照著一塊地方。這兒有一株樹，這兒的青苔長得真嫩——的確，我相信比得上耗子王的皮膚。不過它的顏色是綠的;這對于眼睛說來，是非常舒服的。
“忽然間，一群最可愛的小人物大步地走出來了。他們的身材只能達到我的膝蓋。他們的樣子像人，不過他們的身材長得很相稱。他們把自己叫做山精;他們穿著用花瓣做的漂亮衣服，邊緣上還飾著蒼蠅和蚊蚋的翅膀，很好看。他們一出現就好像是要找什么東西——我不知道是什么。不過他們有幾位終于向我走來;他們的首領指著我的香腸栓，說：‘這正是我們所要的那件東西!——它是尖的——它再好也沒有!’他越看我的旅行杖，他就越感到高興。
“‘你們可以把它借去，’我說，‘但是不能不還!’
“‘不能不還!’他們重復著說。于是他們就把香腸栓拿去了。我也只好讓他們拿去。他們拿著它跳舞，一直跳到長滿了嫩青苔的那塊地方。他們把木栓插在這兒的綠地上，他們也想有他們自己的五月柱，而他們現在所得到的一根似乎正合他們的心意。他們把它裝飾了一番。這真值得一看!
“小小的蜘蛛們在它上面織出一些金絲，然后在它上面掛起飄揚的面紗和旗幟。它們是織得那么細致，在月光里被漂得那么雪白，把我的眼睛都弄花了。他們從蝴蝶翅膀上攝取顏色，把這些顏色撒在白紗上，而白紗上又閃著花朵和珍珠，弄得我再也認不出我的香腸栓了。像這樣的五月柱，世界上再也找不出第二根。現在那一大隊的山精先到場。他們什么衣服也沒有穿，然而他們是再文雅不過了。他們請我也去參加這個盛會，但是我得保持相當的距離，因為對他們說來，我的體積是太大了。
“現在音樂也開始了!這簡直像幾千只鈴兒在響，聲音又圓潤又響亮。我真以為這是天鵝在唱歌呢。的確，我也覺得我可以聽到了杜鵑和畫眉的聲音。最后，整個的樹林似乎都奏起音樂來了。我聽到孩子的說話聲，鈴的鏗鏘聲和鳥兒的歌唱聲。這都是最美的旋律，而且都是從山精的五月柱上發出來的。這全是鐘聲的合奏，而這是從我的香腸栓上發出來的。我從來也沒有想過，它會奏出這么多的音調，不過這要看它落到了什么人的手中。我非常感動;我快樂得哭起來，像一個小耗子那樣哭。
“夜是太短了!不過在這個季節里，它是不能再長了。風在天剛亮的時候就吹起來，樹林里一平如鏡的湖面上出現了一層細細的波紋，飄蕩著的幔紗和旗幟都飛到空中去了。蜘蛛網所形成的波浪形的花圈，吊橋和欄桿以及諸如此類的東西，從這片葉子飛到那片葉子上，都化為烏有。六個山精把我的香腸栓扛回送還給我，同時問我有沒有什么要求，他們可以讓我滿足。因此我就請他們告訴我怎樣用香腸栓做出湯來。
“‘我們怎樣做嗎?’山精們的首領帶笑地說。‘嗨，你剛才已經親眼看到過了!你再也認不出你的香腸栓吧?’
“‘你說得倒輕松!’我回答說。于是我就直截了當地把我旅行的目的告訴他，并且也告訴他，家里的人對于我這次旅行所作的希望。‘我在這兒所看到的這種歡樂景象，’我問，‘對我們耗子王和對我們整個強大的國家，有什么用呢?我不能夠把這香腸栓搖幾搖，說：看呀，香腸栓就在這兒，湯馬上就出來了!恐怕這種菜只有當客人吃飽了飯以后才能拿出來!’
“山精于是把他的小指頭接進一朵藍色的紫羅蘭花里去，同時對我說：
“‘請看吧!我要在你的旅行杖上擦點油;當你回到耗子王的宮殿里去的時候，你只須把這手杖朝他溫暖的胸口頂一下，手杖上就會開滿紫羅蘭花，甚至在最冷的冬天也是這樣。所以你總算帶了一點什么東西回去——恐怕還不止一點什么東西呢!’”不過在這小耗子還沒有說明這個“一點什么東西”以前，她就把旅行杖伸到耗子王的胸口上去。真的，一束最美麗的紫羅蘭花開出來了。花兒的香氣非常強烈，耗子王馬上下一道命令，要那些站得離煙囪最近的耗子把尾巴伸進火里去，以便燒出一點焦味來，因為紫羅蘭的香味使他吃不消;這完全不是他所喜歡的那種氣味。
“不過你剛才說的‘一點什么東西’究竟是什么呢?”耗子王問。
“哎，”小耗子說，“我想這就是人們所謂的‘效果’吧!”
于是她就把這旅行杖掉轉過來。它上面馬上一朵花也沒有了。
她手中只是握著一根光禿禿的棍子。她把它舉起來，像一根樂隊指揮棒。
“‘紫羅蘭花是為視覺、嗅覺和感覺而開出來的，'那個山精告訴過我，'因此它還沒有滿足聽覺和味覺的要求。’”
于是小耗子開始打拍子，于是音樂奏出來了——不是樹林中山精歡樂會的那種音樂;不是的，是我們在廚房中所聽到的那種音樂。乖乖!這才熱鬧呢!這聲音是忽然而來，好像風灌進了每個煙囪管似的;鍋兒和罐兒沸騰得不可開交;大鏟子在黃銅壺上亂敲;接著，在不意之間，一切又忽然變得沉寂。人們聽到茶壺發出低沉的聲音。說來也奇怪，誰也不知道，它究竟是快要結束呢，還是剛剛開始唱。小罐子在滾滾地沸騰著，大罐子也在滾滾地沸騰著;它們誰也不關心誰，好像罐子都失去了理智似的。小耗子揮動著她的指揮棒，越揮越激烈;罐子發出泡沫，冒出大泡，沸騰得不可開交;風兒在號，煙囪在叫。哎呀!這真是可怕，弄得小耗子自己把指揮棒也扔掉了。
“這種湯可不輕松!”老耗子王說。“現在是不是要把它拿出來吃呢?”
“這就是湯呀!”小耗子說，同時鞠了一躬。
“這就是嗎?好吧，我們聽聽第二位能講些什么吧。”耗子王說。
3.第二只小耗子講的故事
“我是在宮里的圖書館里出生的，”第二只耗子說。“我和我家里別的人從來沒有福氣到餐廳里去過，更談不上到食物儲藏室里去。只有在旅途中和今天的這種場合，我才第一次看到一個廚房。我們在圖書館里，的確常常在挨餓，但是我們卻得到不少的知識。我們聽到一個謠傳，說誰能夠在香腸栓上做出湯來，誰就可以獲得皇家的獎金。我的老祖母因此就拉出一卷手稿來。她當然是不會念的，但是她卻聽到別人念過。那上面寫道：‘凡是能寫詩的人，都能在香腸栓上做出湯來。’她問我是不是一個詩人。我說我對于此道一竅不通。她說我得想辦法做一個詩人。于是我問做詩人的條件是什么，因為這對于我說來是跟做湯一樣困難。不過祖母聽到許多人念過。她說，這必須具有三個主要的條件：‘理解、想象和感覺!如果你能夠使你具備這幾樣東西，你就會成為一個詩人，那么香腸栓這類事兒也就自然很容易了。’
“于是我就出去了，向西方走，到茫茫的大世界里去，為的是要成為一個詩人。
“我知道，最重要的東西是理解。其余的兩件東西不會得到同樣的重視!因此我第一件事就是去追求理解。是的，理解住在什么地方呢?到螞蟻那兒去，就可以得到智慧!猶太人的偉大國王這樣說過①。我是從圖書館中知道這事情的。在我來到第一個大蟻山以前，我一直沒有停步。我待在這兒觀察，希望變得聰明。
“螞蟻是一個非常值得尊敬的種族。他們本身就是‘理解’。他們所做的每件事情，像計算好了的數學題一樣，總是正確的。他們說，工作和生蛋的意義就是為現在生活，為將來作準備，而他們就是照這個宗旨行事的。他們把自己分成為清潔的和骯臟的兩種螞蟻。他們的等級是用一個數目來代表的;螞蟻皇后的數目是第一號。她的見解是唯一正確的見解，因為她已經吸收了所有的智慧。認識這一點，對我說來是很重要的。
“她的話說得很多，而且說得都很聰明，叫我聽起來很像廢話。她說她的蟻山是世界上最高大的東西，但是蟻山旁邊就有一棵樹，而且比起它來，不消說要高大得多——這是不可否認的事實，因此關于這樹她就一字不提。一天晚上，有一只螞蟻在這樹上失蹤了。他沿著樹干爬上去，但并沒有爬到樹頂上去——只是爬到別的螞蟻還沒有爬到過的高度。當他回到家來的時候，他談論起他所發現的比蟻山還要高的東西。但是別的螞蟻都認為他的這番話對于整個螞蟻社會是一種侮辱，因此這只螞蟻就受到懲罰，戴上了一個口罩，并且永遠被隔離開來。
“不久以后，另一只螞蟻爬到樹上去了。他作了同樣的旅行，而且發現了同樣的東西。不過這只螞蟻談論這件事情的時候，取一種大家所謂的冷靜和模糊的態度，此外他是一只有身份的螞蟻，而且是純種，因此大家就都相信他的話。當他死了以后，大家就用螞蟻蛋為他立了一個紀念碑，表示他們都尊敬科學。”
小耗子繼續說：“我看到螞蟻老是背著他們的蛋跑來跑去，他們有一位把蛋跑掉了;他費了很大的氣力想把它撿起來，但是沒有成功。這時另外兩只螞蟻來了，盡他們最大的努力來幫助他，結果他們自己背著的蛋也幾乎弄得滾下來了。所以他們就立刻不管了。因為人們得先考慮自己——而且螞蟻皇后也談過這樣的問題，說這種做法既可表示出同情心，同時又可表示出理智。這兩個方面‘使我們螞蟻在一切有理智的動物中占最高的位置。理智應該是、而且一定是最主要的東西，而我在這方面恰恰最突出!’于是她就用她的后腿站起來，好使得人們一眼就可以看清她……我再也不會弄錯了;我一口把她吃掉。到蟻群中去，學習智慧吧!我都裝進肚皮里去了!
“我現在向剛才說的那株大樹走去。它是一棵櫟樹，有很高的軀干和濃密的樹頂;它的年紀也很老。我知道這兒住著一個生物——一個女人——人們把她叫樹精：她跟樹一起生下來，也跟樹一起死去。這件事是我在圖書館里聽到的;現在我算是看到這樣一棵樹和這樣一個櫟樹精了。當她看到我走得很近的時候，她就發出一個可怕的尖叫聲來。像所有的女人一樣，她非常害怕耗子。比起別人來，她更有害怕的理由，因為我可以把樹咬斷，她沒有樹就沒有生命。我以一種和藹和熱誠的態度和她談話，給她勇氣。她把我拿到她柔嫩的手里。當她知道了我旅行到這個茫茫大世界里來的目的時，她答應我說，可能就在這天晚上我會得到我所追求的兩件寶物之一。
“她告訴我說，幻想是她最好的朋友，他是像愛情一樣美麗，他常常到這樹枝的濃葉中來休息——這時樹枝就在他們兩人頭上搖得更起勁。她說：他把她叫做樹精，而這樹就是他的樹，因為這棵瘤疤很多的老櫟樹是他所喜愛的一棵樹，它的根深深地鉆進土里，它的軀干和簇頂高高地伸到新鮮的空氣中去，它對于飄著的雪、銳利的風和暖和的太陽，知道得比任何人都清楚。是的，她這樣說過，'鳥兒在那上面唱著歌，講著一些關于異國的故事!在那唯一的死枝上鸛鳥筑了一個與樹兒非常相稱的窠，人們可以從它們那里聽到一些關于金字塔的國度的事情，幻想非常喜歡這類的事情，但是這還不能滿足他。我還把這樹在我小時的生活告訴他;那時這樹很嫩，連一棵蕁麻都可以把它掩蓋住——我得一直講到這樹怎么長得現在這樣粗大為止。請你在車葉草下面坐著，注意看吧。當幻想到來的時候，我將要找一個機會來捻住他的翅膀，扯下他的一根小羽毛來。把這羽毛拿去吧——任何詩人都不能得到比這更好的東西——你有這就夠了!'
“當幻想到來的時候，羽毛就被拔下一根來了。我趕快把它搶過來，”小耗子說。“我把它捏著放在水里，使它變得柔軟!把它吃下去是很不容易的，但我卻把它啃掉了!現在我已經有了兩件東西：幻想和理解。通過這兩件東西，我知道第三件就可以在圖書館里找得到了。一位偉人曾經寫過和說過：有些長篇小說唯一的功用是它們能夠減輕人們多余的眼淚，因為它們是像海綿一樣，能把情感吸收進去。我記起一兩本這類的書;我覺得它們很合人的胃口;它們不知被人翻過多少次，油膩得很，無疑地它們已經吸收了許多人們的感情。
“我回到那個圖書館里去，生吞活剝地啃掉了一整部長篇小說——這也就是說，啃掉了它柔軟的部分，它的精華，它的書皮和裝訂我一點也沒有動。我把它消化了，接著又啃掉了一本。這時我已經感覺它們在身體內動起來，于是我又把第三本咬了幾口。這樣我就成了一個詩人了。我對我自己這樣講，對別人也這樣講。我有點頭痛，有點胃痛，還有我講不出來的一些別種的痛。我開始思索那些與香腸栓聯系起來的故事。于是我心中就想起了許多香腸栓，這一定是因為那位螞蟻皇后有特別細致的理智的原故。我記得有一個人把一根白色的木栓塞進嘴里去，于是他那根木栓都變得看不見了。我想到浸在陳啤酒里的木栓、墊東西的木栓、塞東西的木栓和釘棺材的木栓。我所有的思想都環繞著栓而活動!當一個人是詩人的時候，他就可以用詩把這表達出來;而我是一個詩人，因為我費了很大的氣力來做一個詩人!因此每星期，每一天，我都可以用一個栓——一個故事——來侍候你。是的，這就是我的湯。”
“我們聽聽第三位有什么話講吧!”耗子王說。
“吱!吱!”這是廚房門旁發出的一個聲音。于是一只小耗子——她就是大家認為死去了的第四只耗子——跳出來了。她絆倒了那根系著黑紗的香腸栓。她一直日夜都在跑，只要她有機會，她不惜在鐵路上坐著貨車走，雖然如此，她幾乎還是要遲到了。她一口氣沖進來，全身的毛非常亂。她已經失去了她的香腸栓，可是卻沒有失去她的聲音，因此她就立刻發言，好像大家只是在等著她、等著聽她講話，除此以外，世界上再沒有別的重要事情似的。她立刻發言，把她所要講的話全都講了出來。她來得這么突然，當她在講話的時候，誰也沒有時間來反對她或她的演詞。現在我們且聽聽吧!
①這句話源出于所羅門所作的《箴言集》。原文是：“懶惰人哪，你去察看螞蟻的動作，就可得智慧。”見《圣經·舊約·箴言》第六章第六節。
4.第四只耗子在第三只耗子
沒有發言以前所講的故事
“我立刻就到一個最大的城市里去，”她說。“這城的名字我可記不起來了——我老是記不住名字。我乘著載滿沒收物資的大車到市政府去。然后我跑到監獄看守那里去。他談起他的犯人，特別談到一個講了許多魯莽話的犯人。這些話引起另外許多話，而這另外許多話被討論了一番，受到了批評。
“‘這完全是一套香腸栓熬的湯，’他說，‘但這湯可能弄得他掉腦袋!’”
“這引起了我對于那個犯人的興趣，”小耗子說，“于是我就找到一個機會，溜到他那兒去——因為在鎖著的門后面總會有一個耗子洞的!他的面色慘白，滿臉都是胡子，睜著一對大眼睛。燈在冒著煙，不過墻壁早已習慣于這煙了，所以它并不顯得比煙更黑。這犯人在黑色的墻上畫出了一些白色的圖畫和詩句，不過我讀不懂。我想他一定感到很無聊，而歡迎我這個客人的。他用面包屑，用口哨和一些友善的字眼來誘惑我：他很高興看到我，而我也只好信任他;因此我們就成了朋友。
“他把他的面包和水分給我吃;他還送給我乳餅和香腸。我生活得很闊綽。我得承認，主要是因為這樣好的交情我才在那兒住下來。他讓我在他的手中，在他的臂上亂跑;讓我鉆進他的袖子里去，讓我在他的胡子里爬;他還把我叫做他的親愛的朋友。我的確非常喜歡他，因為我們應該禮尚往來!我忘記了我在這個廣大世界里旅行的任務，我忘記了放在地板裂縫里的香腸栓——它還藏在那兒。我希望住下來，因為如果我離開了，這位可憐的犯人就沒有什么朋友了——像這樣活在世界上就太沒有意義了!我待下來了，可是他卻沒有待下來。在最后的一次，他跟我說得很傷心，給了我比平時多一倍的面包和乳餅皮，用他的手對我飛吻。他離去了，再也沒有回來。我不知道他的結果。
“‘香腸栓熬的湯!’看守說——我現在到他那兒去了，但是我不能信任他。的確，他也把我放在他的手里，不過他卻把我關進一個籠子里——一部踏車里去了。這真可怕!你在里面轉來轉去，一步也不能向前走，只是叫大家笑你!
“看守的孫女是一個可愛的小東西。她的卷發是那么金黃，她的眼睛是那么快樂，她的小嘴老是在笑。
“‘你這個可憐的小耗子!’她說，同時偷偷地向我的這個丑惡的籠子里看。她把那根鐵插銷抽掉了，于是我就跳到窗板上，然后從那兒再跳到屋頂上的水筧里去。自由了!自由了!我只能想這件事情，我旅行的目的現在顧不到了。
“天很黑，夜到來了。我藏進一座古老的塔里面去。這兒住著一個守塔人和一只貓頭鷹。這兩位我誰也不能信任，特別是那只貓頭鷹。這家伙很像貓子，有一個喜歡吃耗子的大缺點。不過人們很容易看不清真相，我就是這樣。這家伙是一個非常有禮貌、非常有教養的老貓頭鷹。她的知識跟我一樣豐富，比那個守塔人還要豐富。一些年輕的貓頭鷹對于什么事情都是大驚小怪;但她只是說：‘不要弄什么香腸栓熬湯吧!’她是那么疼愛她的家庭，她聽說的最厲害的話也不過是如此。我對她是那么信任，我從我躲藏的小洞里叫了一聲：‘吱!’我對她的信任使她非常高興。她答應保護我，不準任何生物傷害我。她要把我留下來，留待糧食不足的冬天給她自己受用。
“無論從哪方面講，她要算是一個聰明人。她證明給我看，說守塔人只能‘吹幾下’掛在他身邊的那個號角，‘他因此就覺得了不起，以為他就是塔上的貓頭鷹!他想要做大事情，但是他卻是一個小人物——香腸栓熬的湯!’”我要求貓頭鷹給我做這湯的食譜。于是她就解釋給我聽。
“‘香腸栓熬的湯，’她說，‘只不過是人間的一個成語罷了。每人對它有自己不同的體會：各人總以為自己的體會最恰當，不過事實上這整個的事兒沒有絲毫意義!’
“‘沒有絲毫意義!’我說。這使我大吃一驚!真理并不是老使人高興的事情，但是真理高于一切。老貓頭鷹也是這樣說的。我想了一想，我覺得，如果我把‘高于一切的東西’帶回的話，那么我倒是帶回了一件價值比香腸栓湯要高得多的東西呢。因此我就趕快離開，好使我能早點回家，帶回最高、最好的東西——真理。耗子是一個開明的種族，而耗子王則是他們之中最開明的。為了尊重真理，他是可能立我為皇后的。”
“你的真理卻是謊言!”那個還沒有發言的耗子說。“我能做這湯，而且我說得到就做得到!”
5.湯是怎樣熬的
“我并沒有去旅行，”第四只耗子說。“我留在國內——這樣做是正確的!我們沒有旅行的必要。我們在這兒同樣可以得到好的東西。我沒有走!我的知識并不是從神怪的生物那兒得來的，也不是狼吞虎咽地啃來的，也不是跟貓頭鷹說話學來的。我是從自己的思索中得來的。請你們把水壺拿來，裝滿水吧!請把水壺下面的火點起來吧!讓水煮開吧——它得滾開!好，請把栓放進去!現在請國王陛下把尾巴伸進開水里去攪幾下!陛下攪得越久，湯就熬得越濃。它并不花費什么東西!并不需要別的什么材料——只須攪它就得了!”
“是不是別的耗子可以做這事情呢?”國王問。
“不成，”耗子說。“只有耗子王的尾巴有這種威力。”
水在沸騰著。耗子王站在水壺旁邊——這可算說是一種危險的事兒。他把他的尾巴伸出來，好像別的耗子在牛奶房的那副樣兒——它們用尾巴挑起盤子里的乳皮，然后再去舔這尾巴。不過他把他的尾巴伸進滾水里沒有多久就趕快跳開了。
“不成問題——你是我的皇后了!”他說。“我們等到我們金婚節的時候再來熬這湯吧，這樣我們窮苦的子民就可以快樂一番——大大地快樂一番!”
于是他們馬上就舉行了婚禮。不過許多耗子回到家來的時候說：“我們不能把這叫做香腸栓熬的湯：它應該叫做耗子尾巴做的湯才對!”他們說，故事中有些地方講得很好;可是整個的事兒不一定要這樣講。
“我就會如此這般地講，不會別樣講!——”
這是批評家說的話。他們總是事后聰明的。
這個故事傳遍了全世界。關于它的意見很多，不過這個故事本身保持了它的原樣。不管大事也好，小事也好，能做到這種地步就要算是最好的了，香腸栓做的湯也是如此。不過要想因此而得到感激可就錯了!
香腸栓熬的湯英文版：
Soup from a Sausage Skewer
“Soup from a Sausage Skewer”
WE had such an excellent dinner yesterday,” said an old mouse of the female sex to another who had not been present at the feast. “I sat number twenty-one below the mouse-king, which was not a bad place. Shall I tell you what we had? Everything was first rate. Mouldy bread, tallow candle, and sausage. And then, when we had finished that course, the same came on all over again; it was as good as two feasts. We were very sociable, and there was as much joking and fun as if we had been all of one family circle. Nothing was left but the sausage skewers, and this formed a subject of conversation, till at last it turned to the proverb, ‘Soup from sausage skins;’ or, as the people in the neighboring country call it, ‘Soup from a sausage skewer.’ Every one had heard the proverb, but no one had ever tasted the soup, much less prepared it. A capital toast was drunk to the inventor of the soup, and some one said he ought to be made a relieving officer to the poor. Was not that witty? Then the old mouse-king rose and promised that the young lady-mouse who should learn how best to prepare this much-admired and savory soup should be his queen, and a year and a day should be allowed for the purpose.”
“That was not at all a bad proposal,” said the other mouse; “but how is the soup made?”
“Ah, that is more than I can tell you. All the young lady mice were asking the same question. They wished very much to be queen, but they did not want to take the trouble of going out into the world to learn how to make soup, which was absolutely necessary to be done first. But it is not every one who would care to leave her family, or her happy corner by the fire-side at home, even to be made queen. It is not always easy to find bacon and cheese-rind in foreign lands every day, and it is not pleasant to have to endure hunger, and be perhaps, after all, eaten up alive by the cat.”
Most probably some such thoughts as these discouraged the majority from going out into the world to collect the required information. Only four mice gave notice that they were ready to set out on the journey. They were young and lively, but poor. Each of them wished to visit one of the four divisions of the world, so that it might be seen which was the most favored by fortune. Every one took a sausage skewer as a traveller’s staff, and to remind them of the object of their journey. They left home early in May, and none of them returned till the first of May in the following year, and then only three of them. Nothing was seen or heard of the fourth, although the day of decision was close at hand. “Ah, yes, there is always some trouble mixed up with the greatest pleasure,” said the mouse-king; but he gave orders that all the mice within a circle of many miles should be invited at once. They were to assemble in the kitchen, and the three travelled mice were to stand in a row before them, while a sausage skewer, covered with crape, was to be stuck up instead of the missing mouse. No one dared to express an opinion until the king spoke, and desired one of them to go on with her story. And now we shall hear what she said.
What the First Little Mouse Saw and Heard on Her Travels
WHEN I first went out into the world,” said the little mouse, “I fancied, as so many of my age do, that I already knew everything, but it was not so. It takes years to acquire great knowledge. I went at once to sea in a ship bound for the north. I had been told that the ship’s cook must know how to prepare every dish at sea, and it is easy enough to do that with plenty of sides of bacon, and large tubs of salt meat and mouldy flour. There I found plenty of delicate food, but no opportunity for learning how to make soup from a sausage skewer. We sailed on for many days and nights; the ship rocked fearfully, and we did not escape without a wetting. As soon as we arrived at the port to which the ship was bound, I left it, and went on shore at a place far towards the north. It is a wonderful thing to leave your own little corner at home, to hide yourself in a ship where there are sure to be some nice snug corners for shelter, then suddenly to find yourself thousands of miles away in a foreign land. I saw large pathless forests of pine and birch trees, which smelt so strong that I sneezed and thought of sausage. There were great lakes also which looked as black as ink at a distance, but were quite clear when I came close to them. Large swans were floating upon them, and I thought at first they were only foam, they lay so still; but when I saw them walk and fly, I knew what they were directly. They belong to the goose species, one can see that by their walk. No one can attempt to disguise family descent. I kept with my own kind, and associated with the forest and field mice, who, however, knew very little, especially about what I wanted to know, and which had actually made me travel abroad. The idea that soup could be made from a sausage skewer was to them such an out-of-the-way, unlikely thought, that it was repeated from one to another through the whole forest. They declared that the problem would never be solved, that the thing was an impossibility. How little I thought that in this place, on the very first night, I should be initiated into the manner of its preparation.
“It was the height of summer, which the mice told me was the reason that the forest smelt so strong, and that the herbs were so fragrant, and the lakes with the white swimming swans so dark, and yet so clear. On the margin of the wood, near to three or four houses, a pole, as large as the mainmast of a ship, had been erected, and from the summit hung wreaths of flowers and fluttering ribbons; it was the Maypole. Lads and lasses danced round the pole, and tried to outdo the violins of the musicians with their singing. They were as merry as ever at sunset and in the moonlight, but I took no part in the merry-making. What has a little mouse to do with a Maypole dance? I sat in the soft moss, and held my sausage skewer tight. The moon threw its beams particularly on one spot where stood a tree covered with exceedingly fine moss. I may almost venture to say that it was as fine and soft as the fur of the mouse-king, but it was green, which is a color very agreeable to the eye. All at once I saw the most charming little people marching towards me. They did not reach higher than my knee; they looked like human beings, but were better proportioned, and they called themselves elves. Their clothes were very delicate and fine, for they were made of the leaves of flowers, trimmed with the wings of flies and gnats, which had not a bad effect. By their manner, it appeared as if they were seeking for something. I knew not what, till at last one of them espied me and came towards me, and the foremost pointed to my sausage skewer, and said, ‘There, that is just what we want; see, it is pointed at the top; is it not capital?’ and the longer he looked at my pilgrim’s staff, the more delighted he became. ‘I will lend it to you,’ said I, ‘but not to keep.’
“‘Oh no, we won’t keep it!’ they all cried; and then they seized the skewer, which I gave up to them, and danced with it to the spot where the delicate moss grew, and set it up in the middle of the green. They wanted a maypole, and the one they now had seemed cut out on purpose for them. Then they decorated it so beautifully that it was quite dazzling to look at. Little spiders spun golden threads around it, and then it was hung with fluttering veils and flags so delicately white that they glittered like snow in the moonshine. After that they took colors from the butterfly’s wing, and sprinkled them over the white drapery which gleamed as if covered with flowers and diamonds, so that I could not recognize my sausage skewer at all. Such a maypole had never been seen in all the world as this. Then came a great company of real elves. Nothing could be finer than their clothes, and they invited me to be present at the feast; but I was to keep at a certain distance, because I was too large for them. Then commenced such music that it sounded like a thousand glass bells, and was so full and strong that I thought it must be the song of the swans. I fancied also that I heard the voices of the cuckoo and the black-bird, and it seemed at last as if the whole forest sent forth glorious melodies—the voices of children, the tinkling of bells, and the songs of the birds; and all this wonderful melody came from the elfin maypole. My sausage peg was a complete peal of bells. I could scarcely believe that so much could have been produced from it, till I remembered into what hands it had fallen. I was so much affected that I wept tears such as a little mouse can weep, but they were tears of joy. The night was far too short for me; there are no long nights there in summer, as we often have in this part of the world. When the morning dawned, and the gentle breeze rippled the glassy mirror of the forest lake, all the delicate veils and flags fluttered away into thin air; the waving garlands of the spider’s web, the hanging bridges and galleries, or whatever else they may be called, vanished away as if they had never been. Six elves brought me back my sausage skewer, and at the same time asked me to make any request, which they would grant if in their power; so I begged them, if they could, to tell me how to make soup from a sausage skewer.
“‘How do we make it?’ said the chief of the elves with a smile. ‘Why you have just seen it; you scarcely knew your sausage skewer again, I am sure.’
“They think themselves very wise, thought I to myself. Then I told them all about it, and why I had travelled so far, and also what promise had been made at home to the one who should discover the method of preparing this soup. ‘What use will it be,’ I asked, ‘to the mouse-king or to our whole mighty kingdom that I have seen all these beautiful things? I cannot shake the sausage peg and say, Look, here is the skewer, and now the soup will come. That would only produce a dish to be served when people were keeping a fast.’
“Then the elf dipped his finger into the cup of a violet, and said to me, ‘Look here, I will anoint your pilgrim’s staff, so that when you return to your own home and enter the king’s castle, you have only to touch the king with your staff, and violets will spring forth and cover the whole of it, even in the coldest winter time; so I think I have given you really something to carry home, and a little more than something.’”
But before the little mouse explained what this something more was, she stretched her staff out to the king, and as it touched him the most beautiful bunch of violets sprang forth and filled the place with perfume. The smell was so powerful that the mouse-king ordered the mice who stood nearest the chimney to thrust their tails into the fire, that there might be a smell of burning, for the perfume of the violets was overpowering, and not the sort of scent that every 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 not a single flower was to be seen upon it! She now only held the naked skewer, and lifted it up as a conductor lifts his baton at a concert. “Violets, the elf told me,” continued the mouse, “are for the sight, the smell, and the touch; so we have only now to produce the effect of hearing and tasting;” and then, as the little mouse beat time with her staff, there came sounds of music, not such music as was heard in the forest, at the elfin feast, but such as is often heard in the kitchen—the sounds of boiling and roasting. It came quite suddenly, like wind rushing through the chimneys, and seemed as if every pot and kettle were boiling over. The fire-shovel clattered down on 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 rightly distinguish whether the kettle was just beginning to boil or going to stop. And the little pot steamed, and the great pot simmered, but without any regard for each; indeed there seemed no sense in the pots at all. And as the little mouse waved her baton still more wildly, the pots foamed and threw up bubbles, and boiled over; while again the wind roared and whistled through the chimney, and at last there was such a terrible hubbub, that the little mouse let her stick fall.
“That is a strange sort of soup,” said the mouse-king; “shall we not 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 hear what 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 get into the dining-room, much less the store-room. On my journey, and here to-day, are the only times I have ever seen a kitchen. We were often obliged to suffer hunger in the library, but then we gained a great deal of knowledge. The rumor reached us of the royal prize offered to those who should be able to make soup from a sausage skewer. Then my old grandmother sought out a manuscript which, however, she could not read, but had heard it read, and in it was written, ‘Those who are poets can make soup of sausage skewers.’ She then asked me if I was a poet. I felt myself quite innocent of any such pretensions. Then she said I must go out and make myself a poet. I asked again what I should be required to do, for it seemed to me quite as difficult as to find out how to make soup of a sausage skewer. My grandmother had heard a great deal of reading in her day, and she told me three principal qualifications were necessary—understanding, imagination, and feeling. ‘If you can manage to acquire these three, you will be a poet, and the sausage-skewer soup will be quite easy to you.’
“So I went forth into the world, and turned my steps towards the west, that I might become a poet. Understanding is the most important matter in everything. I knew that, for the two other qualifications are not thought much of; so I went first to seek for understanding. Where was I to find it? ‘Go to the ant and learn wisdom,’ said the great Jewish king. I knew that from living in a library. So I went straight on till I came to the first great ant-hill, and then I set myself to watch, that I might become wise. The ants are a very respectable people, they are wisdom itself. All they do is like the working of a sum in arithmetic, which comes right. ‘To work and to lay eggs,’ say they, ‘and to provide for posterity, is to live out your time properly;’ and that they truly do. They are divided into the clean and the dirty ants, their rank is pointed out by a number, and the ant-queen is number ONE; and her opinion is the only correct one on everything; she seems to have the whole wisdom of the world in her, which was just the important matter I wished to acquire. She said a great deal which was no doubt very clever; yet to me it sounded like nonsense. She said the ant-hill was the loftiest thing in the world, and yet close to the mound stood a tall tree, which no one could deny was loftier, much loftier, but no mention was made of the tree. One evening an ant lost herself on this tree; she had crept up the stem, not nearly to the top, but higher than any ant had ever ventured; and when at last she returned home she said that she had found something in her travels much higher than the ant-hill. The rest of the ants considered this an insult to the whole community; so she was condemned to wear a muzzle and to live in perpetual solitude. A short time afterwards another ant got on the tree, and made the same journey and the same discovery, but she spoke of it cautiously and indefinitely, and as she was one of the superior ants and very much respected, they believed her, and when she died they erected an eggshell as a monument to her memory, for they cultivated a great respect for science. I saw,” said the little mouse, “that the ants were always running to and fro with her burdens on their backs. Once I saw one of them drop her load; she gave herself a great deal of trouble in trying to raise it again, but she could not succeed. Then two others came up and tried with all their strength to help her, till they nearly dropped their own burdens in doing so; then they were obliged to stop for a moment in their help, for every one must think of himself first. And the ant-queen remarked that their conduct that day showed that they possessed kind hearts and good understanding. ‘These two qualities,’ she continued, ‘place us ants in the highest degree above all other reasonable beings. Understanding must therefore be seen among us in the most prominent manner, and my wisdom is greater than all.’ And so saying she raised herself on her two hind legs, that no one else might be mistaken for her. I could not therefore make an error, so I ate her up. We are to go to the ants to learn wisdom, and I had got the queen.
“I now turned and went nearer to the lofty tree already mentioned, which was an oak. It had a tall trunk with a wide-spreading top, and was very old. I knew that a living being dwelt here, a dryad as she is called, who is born with the tree and dies with it. I had heard this in the library, and here was just such a tree, and in it an oak-maiden. She uttered a terrible scream when she caught sight of me so near to her; like many women, she was very much afraid of mice. And she had more real cause for fear than they have, for I might have gnawed through the tree on which her life depended. I spoke to her in a kind and friendly manner, and begged her to take courage. At last she took me up in her delicate hand, and then I told her what had brought me out into the world, and she promised me that perhaps on that very evening she should be able to obtain for me one of the two treasures for which I was seeking. She told me that Phantaesus was her very dear friend, that he was as beautiful as the god of love, that he remained often for many hours with her under the leafy boughs of the tree which then rustled and waved more than ever over them both. He called her his dryad, she said, and the tree his tree; for the grand old oak, with its gnarled trunk, was just to his taste. The root, spreading deep into the earth, the top rising high in the fresh air, knew the value of the drifted snow, the keen wind, and the warm sunshine, as it ought to be known. ‘Yes,’ continued the dryad, ‘the birds sing up above in the branches, and talk to each other about the beautiful fields they have visited in foreign lands; and on one of the withered boughs a stork has built his nest,—it is beautifully arranged, and besides it is pleasant to hear a little about the land of the pyramids. All this pleases Phantaesus, but it is not enough for him; I am obliged to relate to him of my life in the woods; and to go back to my childhood, when I was little, and the tree so small and delicate that a stinging-nettle could overshadow it, and I have to tell everything that has happened since then till now that the tree is so large and strong. Sit you down now under the green bindwood and pay attention, when Phantaesus comes I will find an opportunity to lay hold of his wing and to pull out one of the little feathers. That feather you shall have; a better was never given to any poet, it will be quite enough for you.’
“And when Phantaesus came the feather was plucked, and,” said the little mouse, “I seized and put it in water, and kept it there till it was quite soft. It was very heavy and indigestible, but I managed to nibble it up at last. It is not so easy to nibble one’s self into a poet, there are so many things to get through. Now, however, I had two of them, understanding and imagination; and through these I knew that the third was to be found in the library. A great man has said and written that there are novels whose sole and only use appeared to be that they might relieve mankind of overflowing tears—a kind of sponge, in fact, for sucking up feelings and emotions. I remembered a few of these books, they had always appeared tempting to the appetite; they had been much read, and were so greasy, that they must have absorbed no end of emotions in themselves. I retraced my steps to the library, and literally devoured a whole novel, that is, properly speaking, the interior or soft part of it; the crust, or binding, I left. When I had digested not only this, but a second, I felt a stirring within me; then I ate a small piece of a third romance, and felt myself a poet. I said it to myself, and told others the same. I had head-ache and back-ache, and I cannot tell what aches besides. I thought over all the stories that may be said to be connected with sausage pegs, and all that has ever been written about skewers, and sticks, and staves, and splinters came to my thoughts; the ant-queen must have had a wonderfully clear understanding. I remembered the man who placed a white stick in his mouth by which he could make himself and the stick invisible. I thought of sticks as hobby-horses, staves of music or rhyme, of breaking a stick over a man’s back, and heaven knows how many more phrases of the same sort relating to sticks, staves, and skewers. All my thoughts rein on skewers, sticks of wood, and staves; and as I am, at last, a poet, and I have worked terribly hard to make myself one, I can of course make poetry on anything. I shall therefore be able to wait upon you every day in the week with a poetical history of a skewer. And that is my soup.”
“In that case,” said the mouse-king, “we will hear what the third mouse has to say.”
“Squeak, squeak,” cried a little mouse at the kitchen door; it was the fourth, and not the third, of the four who were contending for the prize, one whom the rest supposed to be dead. She shot in like an arrow, and overturned the sausage peg that had been covered with crape. She had been running day and night. She had watched an opportunity to get into a goods train, and had travelled by the railway; and yet she had arrived almost too late. She pressed forward, looking very much ruffled. She had lost her sausage skewer, but not her voice; for she began to speak at once as if they only waited for her, and would hear her only, and as if nothing else in the world was of the least consequence. She spoke out so clearly and plainly, and she had come in so suddenly, that no one had time to stop her or to say a word while she was speaking. And now let us hear what she said.
What the Fourth Mouse, Who Spoke Before the Third, Had to Tell
I STARTED off at once to the largest town,” said she, “but the name of it has escaped me. I have a very bad memory for names. I was carried from the railway, with some forfeited goods, to the jail, and on arriving I made my escape, and ran into the house of the turnkey. The turnkey was speaking of his prisoners, especially of one who had uttered thoughtless words. These words had given rise to other words, and at length they were written down and registered: ‘The whole affair is like making soup of sausage skewers,’ said he, ‘but the soup may cost him his neck.’
“Now this raised in me an interest for the prisoner,” continued the little mouse, “and I watched my opportunity, and slipped into his apartment, for there is a mouse-hole to be found behind every closed door. The prisoner looked pale; he had a great beard and large, sparkling eyes. There was a lamp burning, but the walls were so black that they only looked the blacker for it. The prisoner scratched pictures and verses with white chalk on the black walls, but I did not read the verses. I think he found his confinement wearisome, so that I was a welcome guest. He enticed me with bread-crumbs, with whistling, and with gentle words, and seemed so friendly towards me, that by degrees I gained confidence in him, and we became friends; he divided his bread and water with me, gave me cheese and sausage, and I really began to love him. Altogether, I must own that it was a very pleasant intimacy. He let me run about on his hand, and on his arm, and into his sleeve; and I even crept into his beard, and he called me his little friend. I forgot what I had come out into the world for; forgot my sausage skewer which I had laid in a crack in the floor—it is lying there still. I wished to stay with him always where I was, for I knew that if I went away the poor prisoner would have no one to be his friend, which is a sad thing. I stayed, but he did not. He spoke to me so mournfully for the last time, gave me double as much bread and cheese as usual, and kissed his hand to me. Then he went away, and never came back. I know nothing more of his history.
“The jailer took possession of me now. He said something about soup from a sausage skewer, but I could not trust him. He took me in his hand certainly, but it was to place me in a cage like a tread-mill. Oh how dreadful it was! I had to run round and round without getting any farther in advance, and only to make everybody laugh. The jailer’s grand-daughter was a charming little thing. She had curly hair like the brightest gold, merry eyes, and such a smiling mouth.
“‘You poor little mouse,’ said she, one day as she peeped into my cage, ‘I will set you free.’ She then drew forth the iron fastening, and I sprang out on the window-sill, and from thence to the roof. Free! free! that was all I could think of; not of the object of my journey. It grew dark, and as night was coming on I found a lodging in an old tower, where dwelt a watchman and an owl. I had no confidence in either of them, least of all in the owl, which is like a cat, and has a great failing, for she eats mice. One may however be mistaken sometimes; and so was I, for this was a respectable and well-educated old owl, who knew more than the watchman, and even as much as I did myself. The young owls made a great fuss about everything, but the only rough words she would say to them were, ‘You had better go and make some soup from sausage skewers.’ She was very indulgent and loving to her children. Her conduct gave me such confidence in her, that from the crack where I sat I called out ‘squeak.’ This confidence of mine pleased her so much that she assured me she would take me under her own protection, and that not a creature should do me harm. The fact was, she wickedly meant to keep me in reserve for her own eating in winter, when food would be scarce. Yet she was a very clever lady-owl; she explained to me that the watchman could only hoot with the horn that hung loose at his side; and then she said he is so terribly proud of it, that he imagines himself an owl in the tower;—wants to do great things, but only succeeds in small; all soup on a sausage skewer. Then I begged the owl to give me the recipe for this soup. ‘Soup from a sausage skewer,’ said she, ‘is only a proverb amongst mankind, and may be understood in many ways. Each believes his own way the best, and after all, the proverb signifies nothing.’ ‘Nothing!’ I exclaimed. I was quite struck. Truth is not always agreeable, but truth is above everything else, as the old owl said. I thought over all this, and saw quite plainly that if truth was really so far above everything else, it must be much more valuable than soup from a sausage skewer. So I hastened to get away, that I might be home in time, and bring what was highest and best, and above everything—namely, the truth. The mice are an enlightened people, and the mouse-king is above them all. He is therefore capable of making me queen for the sake of truth.”
“Your truth is a falsehood,” said the mouse who had not yet spoken; “I can prepare the soup, and I mean to do so.”
How It Was Prepared
I DID not travel,” said the third mouse; “I stayed in this country: that was the right way. One gains nothing by travelling—everything can be acquired here quite as easily; so I stayed at home. I have not obtained what I know from supernatural beings. I have neither swallowed it, nor learnt it from conversing with owls. I have got it all from my reflections and thoughts. Will you now set the kettle on the fire—so? Now pour the water in—quite full—up to the brim; place it on the fire; make up a good blaze; keep it burning, that the water may boil; it must boil over and over. There, now I throw in the skewer. Will the mouse-king be pleased now to dip his tail into the boiling water, and stir it round with the tail. The longer the king stirs it, the stronger the soup will become. Nothing more is necessary, only to stir it.”
“Can no one else do this?” asked the king.
“No,” said the mouse; “only in the tail of the mouse-king is this power contained.”
And the water boiled and bubbled, as the mouse-king stood close beside the kettle. It seemed rather a dangerous performance; but he turned round, and put out his tail, as mice do in a dairy, when they wish to skim the cream from a pan of milk with their tails and afterwards lick it off. But the mouse-king’s tail had only just touched the hot steam, when he sprang away from the chimney in a great hurry, exclaiming, “Oh, certainly, by all means, you must be my queen; and we will let the soup question rest till our golden wedding, fifty years hence; so that the poor in my kingdom, who are then to have plenty of food, will have something to look forward to for a long time, with great joy.”
And very soon the wedding took place. But many of the mice, as they were returning home, said that the soup could not be properly called “soup from a sausage skewer,” but “soup from a mouse’s tail.” They acknowledged also that some of the stories were very well told; but that the whole could have been managed differently. “I should have told it so—and so—and so.” These were the critics who are always so clever afterwards.
When this story was circulated all over the world, the opinions upon it were divided; but the story remained the same. And, after all, the best way in everything you undertake, great as well as small, is to expect no thanks for anything you may do, even when it refers to “soup from a sausage skewer.”
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