Лучшие английские сказки / Best english fairy tales - Лебедева Елена Алексеевна. Страница 3

The Spaniard said at once: ‘In the right eye.’

‘You are wrong’, said the Indian. ‘Neither in the right nor in the left, it is not blind at all.’

And so the horse was returned to the Indian.

Dirty Boots

Once Swift went on a journey, accompanied by his servant. They were both on horseback. [8] The journey was long, so when night came, they had to stop at an inn.

In the morning Swift asked for his boots. The servant brought them, but the writer saw that they were as dirty as the night before. ‘Why haven’t you cleaned my boots?’ he asked his lazy servant.

‘Well, sir, as you are going to ride today, I thought that if I cleaned them, they would soon be dirty again’.

‘All right, get the horses ready, [9]’ Swift said, and went to have his breakfast. Then he paid his bill and left the inn. His servant was already in front of the inn with the horses.

‘Well, let’s go on.’

‘But, sir, I’m hungry, I haven’t had my breakfast yet.’

‘Never mind, if you had, you would soon be hungry again’, the author replied and rode away. The lazy servant had to follow his master, but he never forgot the lesson he had been taught.

A Traveller’s Tale

In the autumn of 1935, when I was a young man, I was traveling in the north-west of India. One evening, after hunting in the forest all day, I was returning alone to the place where I had put up my tent. It was getting dark, [10] and I was walking along a narrow path. On my right was a wide river; on my left, a thick, dark forest. Suddenly I saw two green eyes looking at me from among the trees. A man-eating tiger [11] was getting ready to jump on me.

What could I do? Should I jump into the river and hope to save my life by swimming? I looked to the right. In the river there was an immense crocodile waiting to welcome me with its mouth wide open.

I was so frightened that I shut my eyes. I heard branches moving as the tiger jumped. I opened my eyes. What do you think had happened? The tiger had jumped right over me and was now in the jaws of the crocodile. That’s a true story, believe it or not!

The Letter-Box Key

Once an Englishman went to the seashore for his summer holidays. He asked his housekeeper to post him all letters that she would receive during his absence. She promised him to do that.

The Englishman rested very well. A month passed but he received no letters. He thought it strange and he rang up his housekeeper:

‘Why didn’t you post my letters?’

‘Because you didn’t leave me the key of the letter-box,’ was the reply.

The Englishman apologized and promised to send her the key. In some days he put the key into an envelope, wrote down his address on it and posted the letter.

Another month was passing but still he did not receive the letters.

When at the end of the month he returned home, he spoke angrily with his housekeeper.

‘But what could I do?’ asked the poor woman. ‘The key which you posted was in the locked letter-box too.’

The Emperor’s New Clothes

Many years ago there was an Emperor so fond of [12] new clothes that he spent all his money on new dresses. He did not care about his soldiers, going to the theatre, or going for a ride in his carriage, he only liked to show off his new clothes. He had a coat for every hour of the day.

In the great city where he lived, life was always gay. Every day many strangers came to town, and among them one day came two swindlers. They let it be known they were weavers, and they said they could weave the most magnificent fabrics imaginable. Not only were their colors and patterns uncommonly fine, but clothes made of this cloth had a wonderful way of becoming invisible to anyone who was unfit for his office, or who was unusually stupid.

‘Those would be just the clothes for me,’ thought the Emperor. ‘If I wore them I would be able to discover which men in my empire are unfit for their posts. And I could tell the wise men from the fools. Yes, I certainly must get some of the stuff woven for me right away.’ He paid the two swindlers a large sum of money to start work at once.

They set up two looms and pretended to weave, though there was nothing on the looms. All the finest silk and the purest old thread which they demanded went into their traveling bags, while they worked the empty looms far into the night.

‘I’d like to know how those weavers are getting on with the cloth,’ the Emperor thought, but he felt slightly uncomfortable when he remembered that those who were unfit for their position would not be able to see the fabric. It couldn’t have been that he doubted himself, yet he thought he’d rather send someone else to see how things were going. The whole town knew about the cloth’s peculiar power, and all were impatient to find out how stupid their neighbors were.

‘I’ll send my honest old minister to the weavers,’ the Emperor decided. ‘He’ll be the best one to tell me how the material looks, for he’s a sensible man and no one does his duty better.’

So the honest old minister went to the room where the two swindlers sat working away at their empty looms.

‘Heaven help me,’ he thought as his eyes flew wide open, ‘I can’t see anything at all’. But he did not say so.

Both the swindlers begged him to be so kind as to come near to approve the excellent pattern, the beautiful colors. They pointed to the empty looms, and the poor old minister stared as hard as he dared. He couldn’t see anything, because there was nothing to see. ‘Heaven have mercy,’ he thought. ‘Can it be that I’m a fool? I’d have never guessed it, and not a soul must know. Am I unfit to be the minister? It would never do to let on that I can’t see the cloth.’

‘Don’t hesitate to tell us what you think of it,’ said one of the weavers.

‘Oh, it’s beautiful – it’s enchanting.’ The old minister peered through his spectacles. ‘Such a pattern, what colors!’ I’ll be sure to tell the Emperor how delighted [13] I am with it.’

‘We’re pleased to hear that,’ the swindlers said. They proceeded to name all the colors and to explain the intricate pattern. The old minister paid the closest attention, so that he could tell it all to the Emperor. And so he did.

The swindlers at once asked for more money, more silk and gold thread, to get on with the weaving. But it all went into their pockets. Not a thread went into the looms, though they worked at their weaving as hard as ever.

The Emperor presently sent another trustworthy official to see how the work progressed and how soon it would be ready. The same thing happened to him that had happened to the minister. He looked and he looked, but as there was nothing to see in the looms he couldn’t see anything.

‘Isn’t it a beautiful piece of goods?’ the swindlers asked him, as they displayed and described their imaginary pattern.

‘I know I’m not stupid,’ the man thought, ‘so it must be that I’m unworthy of my good office. That’s strange. I mustn’t let anyone find it out, though.’ So he praised the material he did not see. He declared he was delighted with the beautiful colors and the exquisite pattern. To the Emperor he said, ‘It held me spellbound.’

All the town was talking of this splendid cloth, and the Emperor wanted to see it for himself while it was still in the looms. Attended by a band of chosen men, among whom were his two old trusted officials – the ones who had been to the weavers – he set out to see the two swindlers. He found them weaving with might and main, but without a thread in their looms.