soup from a sausage skewer-第3部分

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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　mous