小学英语 安徒生童话系列（四）The Metal Pig阅读素材.docx

themetalpigbyhanschristianandersen（1842）inthecityofflorence，notfarfromthepiazzadelgranduca，runsalittlestreetcalledportarosa.inthisstreet，justinfrontofthemarket-placewherevegetablesaresold，standsapig，madeofbrassandcuriouslyformed.thebrightcolorhasbeenchangedbyagetodarkgreen；butclear，freshwaterpoursfromthesnout，whichshinesasifithadbeenpolished，andsoindeedithas，forhundredsofpoorpeopleandchildrenseizeitintheirhandsastheyplacetheirmouthsclosetothemouthoftheanimal，todrink.itisquiteapicturetoseeahalf-nakedboyclaspingthewell-formedcreaturebythehead，ashepresseshisrosylipsagainstitsjaws.everyonewhovisitsflorencecanveryquicklyfindtheplace；hehasonlytoaskthefirstbeggarhemeetsforthemetalpig，andhewillbetoldwhereitis.itwaslateonawinterevening；themountainswerecoveredwithsnow，butthemoonshonebrightly，andmoonlightinitalyislikeadullwintersdayinthenorth；indeeditisbetter，forclearairseemstoraiseusabovetheearth，whileinthenorthacold，gray，leadenskyappearstopressusdowntoearth，evenasthecolddampearthshallonedaypressonusinthegrave.inthegardenofthegranddukespalace，undertheroofofoneofthewings，whereathousandrosesbloominwinter，alittleraggedboyhadbeensittingthewholedaylong；aboy，whomightserveasatypeofitaly，lovelyandsmiling，andyetstillsuffering.hewashungryandthirsty，yetnoonegavehimanything；andwhenitbecamedark，andtheywereabouttoclosethegardens，theporterturnedhimout.hestoodalongtimemusingonthebridgewhichcrossesthearno，andlookingattheglitteringstars，reflectedinthewaterwhichflowedbetweenhimandtheelegantmarblebridgedellatrinita.hethenwalkedawaytowardsthemetalpig，halfkneltdown，claspeditwithhisarms，andthenputhismouthtotheshiningsnoutanddrankdeepdraughtsofthefreshwater.closeby，layafewsalad-leavesandtwochestnuts，whichweretoserveforhissupper.noonewasinthestreetbuthimself；itbelongedonlytohim，soheboldlyseatedhimselfonthepigsback，leanedforwardsothathiscurlyheadcouldrestontheheadoftheanimal，and，beforehewasaware，hefellasleep.itwasmidnight.themetalpigraisedhimselfgently，andtheboyheardhimsayquitedistinctly， “holdtight，littleboy，foriamgoingtorun；”andawayhestartedforamostwonderfulride.first，theyarrivedatthepiazzadelgranduca，andthemetalhorsewhichbearsthedukesstatue，neighedaloud.thepaintedcoats-of-armsontheoldcouncil-houseshoneliketransparentpictures，andmichaelangelosdavidtossedhissling；itwasasifeverythinghadlife.themetallicgroupsoffigures，amongwhichwereperseusandtherapeofthesabines，lookedlikelivingpersons，andcriesofterrorsoundedfromthemallacrossthenoblesquare.bythepalazzodegliuffizi，inthearcade，wherethenobilityassembleforthecarnival，themetalpigstopped. “holdfast，”saidtheanimal； “holdfast，foriamgoingupstairs.”thelittleboysaidnotaword；hewashalfpleasedandhalfafraid.theyenteredalonggallery，wheretheboyhadbeenbefore.thewallswereresplendentwithpaintings；herestoodstatuesandbusts，allinaclearlightasifitwereday.butthegrandestappearedwhenthedoorofasideroomopened；thelittleboycouldrememberwhatbeautifulthingshehadseenthere，butto-nighteverythingshoneinitsbrightestcolors.herestoodthefigureofabeautifulwoman，asbeautifullysculpturedaspossiblebyoneofthegreatmasters.hergracefullimbsappearedtomove；dolphinssprangatherfeet，andimmortalityshonefromhereyes.theworldcalledherthevenusdemedici.byhersidewerestatues，inwhichthespiritoflifebreathedinstone；figuresofmen，oneofwhomwhettedhissword，andwasnamedthegrinder；wrestlinggladiatorsformedanothergroup，theswordhadbeensharpenedforthem，andtheystroveforthegoddessofbeauty.theboywasdazzledbysomuchglitter；forthewallsweregleamingwithbrightcolors，allappearedlivingreality.astheypassedfromhalltohall，beautyeverywhereshoweditself；andasthemetalpigwentstepbystepfromonepicturetotheother，thelittleboycouldseeitallplainly.onegloryeclipsedanother；yettherewasonepicturethatfixeditselfonthelittleboysmemory，moreespeciallybecauseofthehappychildrenitrepresented，forthesethelittleboyhadseenindaylight.manypassthispicturebywithindifference，andyetitcontainsatreasureofpoeticfeeling；itrepresentschristdescendingintohades.theyarenotthelostwhomthespectatorsees，buttheheathenofoldentimes.theflorentine，angiolobronzino，paintedthispicture；mostbeautifulistheexpressiononthefaceofthetwochildren，whoappeartohavefullconfidencethattheyshallreachheavenatlast.theyareembracingeachother，andonelittleonestretchesouthishandtowardsanotherwhostandsbelowhim，andpointstohimself，asifheweresaying， “iamgoingtoheaven.”theolderpeoplestandasifuncertain，yethopeful，andtheybowinhumbleadorationtothelordjesus.onthispicturetheboyseyesrestedlongerthanonanyother：themetalpigstoodstillbeforeit.alowsighwasheard.diditcomefromthepictureorfromtheanimal？theboyraisedhishandstowardsthesmilingchildren，andthenthepigranoffwithhimthroughtheopenvestibule.“thankyou，thankyou，youbeautifulanimal，”saidthelittleboy，caressingthemetalpigasitrandownthesteps.“thankstoyourselfalso，”repliedthemetalpig； “ihavehelpedyouandyouhavehelpedme，foritisonlywhenihaveaninnocentchildonmybackthatireceivethepowertorun.yes；asyousee，icanevenventureundertheraysofthelamp，infrontofthepictureofthemadonna，butimaynotenterthechurch；stillfromwithout，andwhileyouareuponmyback，imaylookinthroughtheopendoor.donotgetdownyet，forifyoudo，thenishallbelifeless，asyouhaveseenmeintheportarosa.”“iwillstaywithyou，mydearcreature，”saidthelittleboy.sothentheywentonatarapidpacethroughthestreetsofflorence，tilltheycametothesquarebeforethechurchofsantacroce.thefolding-doorsflewopen，andlightstreamedfromthealtarthroughthechurchintothedesertedsquare.awonderfulblazeoflightstreamedfromoneofthemonumentsintheleft-sideaisle，andathousandmovingstarsseemedtoformagloryroundit；eventhecoat-of-armsonthetomb-stoneshone，andaredladderonabluefieldgleamedlikefire.itwasthegraveofgalileo.themonumentisunadorned，buttheredladderisanemblemofart，signifyingthatthewaytogloryleadsupashiningladder，onwhichtheprophetsofmindrisetoheaven，likeeliasofold.intherightaisleofthechurcheverystatueontherichlycarvedsarcophagiseemedendowedwithlife.herestoodmichaelangelo；theredante，withthelaurelwreathroundhisbrow；alfieriandmachiavelli；forheresidebysiderestthegreatmentheprideofitaly.1thechurchitselfisverybeautiful，evenmorebeautifulthanthemarblecathedralatflorence，thoughnotsolarge.itseemedasifthecarvedvestmentsstirred，andasifthemarblefigurestheycoveredraisedtheirheadshigher，togazeuponthebrightlycoloredglowingaltarwherethewhite-robedboysswungthegoldencensers，amidmusicandsong，whilethestrongfragranceofincensefilledthechurch，andstreamedforthintothesquare.theboystretchedforthhishandstowardsthelight，andatthesamemomentthemetalpigstartedagainsorapidlythathewasobligedtoclingtightlytohim.thewindwhistledinhisears，heheardthechurchdoorcreakonitshingesasitclosed，anditseemedtohimasifhehadlosthissensesthenacoldshudderpassedoverhim，andheawoke.itwasmorning；themetalpigstoodinitsoldplaceontheportarosa，andtheboyfoundhehadslippednearlyoffitsback.fearandtremblingcameuponhimashethoughtofhismother；shehadsenthimoutthedaybeforetogetsomemoney，hehadnotdoneso，andnowhewashungryandthirsty.oncemoreheclaspedtheneckofhismetalhorse，kisseditsnose，andnoddedfarewelltoit.thenhewanderedawayintooneofthenarroweststreets，wheretherewasscarcelyroomforaloadeddonkeytopass.agreatiron-bounddoorstoodajar；hepassedthrough，andclimbedupabrickstaircase，withdirtywallsandaropeforabalustrade，tillhecametoanopengalleryhungwithrags.fromhereaflightofstepsleddowntoacourt，wherefromawellwaterwasdrawnupbyironrollerstothedifferentstoriesofthehouse，andwherethewater-bucketshungsidebyside.sometimestherollerandthebucketdancedintheair，splashingthewateralloverthecourt.anotherbroken-downstaircaseledfromthegallery，andtworussiansailorsrunningdownitalmostupsetthepoorboy.theywerecomingfromtheirnightlycarousal.awomannotveryyoung，withanunpleasantfaceandaquantityofblackhair，followedthem. “whathaveyoubroughthome？”sheasked.whenshesawtheboy.“dontbeangry，”hepleaded； “ireceivednothing，ihavenothingatall；”andheseizedhismothersdressandwouldhavekissedit.thentheywentintoalittleroom.ineednotdescribeit，butonlysaythattherestoodinitanearthenpotwithhandles，madeforholdingfire，whichinitalyiscalledamarito.thispotshetookinherlap，warmedherfingers，andpushedtheboywithherelbow.“certainlyyoumusthavesomemoney，”shesaid.theboybegantocry，andthenshestruckhimwithherfoottillhecriedoutlouder.“willyoubequiet？orillbreakyourscreaminghead；”andsheswungaboutthefire-potwhichsheheldinherhand，whiletheboycrouchedtotheearthandscreamed.thenaneighborcamein，andshehadalsoamaritounderherarm. “felicita，”shesaid， “whatareyoudoingtothechild？”“thechildismine，”sheanswered； “icanmurderhimifilike，andyoutoo，giannina.”andthensheswungaboutthefire-pot.theotherwomanliftedupherstodefendherself，andthetwopotsclashedtogethersoviolentlythattheyweredashedtopieces，andfireandashesflewabouttheroom.theboyrushedoutatthesight，spedacrossthecourtyard，andfledfromthehouse.thepoorchildrantillhewasquiteoutofbreath；atlasthestoppedatthechurch，thedoorsofwhichwereopenedtohimthenightbefore，andwentin.hereeverythingwasbright，andtheboykneltdownbythefirsttombonhisright，thegraveofmichaelangelo，andsobbedasifhisheartwouldbreak.peoplecameandwent，masswasperformed，butnoonenoticedtheboy，exceptinganelderlycitizen，whostoodstillandlookedathimforamoment，andthenwentawayliketherest.hungerandthirstoverpoweredthechild，andhebecamequitefaintandill.atlasthecreptintoacornerbehindthemarblemonuments，andwenttosleep.towardseveninghewasawakenedbyapullathissleeve；hestartedup，andthesameoldcitizenstoodbeforehim.“areyouill？wheredoyoulive？haveyoubeenhereallday？”weresomeofthequestionsaskedbytheoldman.afterhearinghisanswers，theoldmantookhimhometoasmallhousecloseby，inabackstreet.theyenteredaglovemakersshop，whereawomansatsewingbusily.alittlewhitepoodle，socloselyshaventhathispinkskincouldplainlybeseen，friskedabouttheroom，andgambolledupontheboy.“innocentsoulsaresoonintimate，”saidthewoman，asshecaressedboththeboyandthedog.thesegoodpeoplegavethechildfoodanddrink，andsaidheshouldstaywiththemallnight，andthatthenextdaytheoldman，whowascalledgiuseppe，wouldgoandspeaktohismother.alittlehomelybedwaspreparedforhim，buttohimwhohadsooftensleptonthehardstonesitwasaroyalcouch，andhesleptsweetlyanddreamedofthesplendidpicturesandofthemetalpig.giuseppewentoutthenextmorning，andthepoorchildwasnotgladtoseehimgo，forheknewthattheoldmanwasgonetohismother，andthat，perhaps，hewouldhavetogoback.heweptatthethought，andthenheplayedwiththelittle，livelydog，andkissedit，whiletheoldwomanlookedkindlyathimtoencouragehim.andwhatnewsdidgiuseppebringback？atfirsttheboycouldnothear，forhetalkedagreatdealtohiswife，andshenoddedandstrokedtheboyscheek.thenshesaid， “heisagoodlad，heshallstaywithus，hemaybecomeacleverglovemaker，likeyou.lookwhatdelicatefingershehasgot；madonnaintendedhimforaglovemaker.”sotheboystayedwiththem，andthewomanherselftaughthimtosew；andheatewell，andsleptwell，andbecameverymerry.butatlasthebegantoteasebellissima，asthelittledogwascalled.thismadethewomanangry，andshescoldedhimandthreatenedhim，whichmadehimveryunhappy，andhewentandsatinhisownroomfullofsadthoughts.thischamberlookeduponthestreet，inwhichhungskinstodry，andtherewerethickironbarsacrosshiswindow.thatnighthelayawake，thinkingofthemetalpig；indeed，itwasalwaysinhisthoughts.suddenlyhefanciedheheardfeetoutsidegoingpit-a-pat.hesprungoutofbedandwenttothewindow.coulditbethemetalpig？buttherewasnothingtobeseen；whateverhehadheardhadpassedalready.nextmorning，theirneighbor，theartist，passedby，carryingapaint-boxandalargerollofcanvas.“helpthegentlemantocarryhisboxofcolors，”saidthewomantotheboy；andheobeyedinstantly，tookthebox，andfollowedthepainter.theywalkedontilltheyreachedthepicturegallery，andmountedthesamestaircaseupwhichhehadriddenthatnightonthemetalpig.herememberedallthestatuesandpictures，thebeautifulmarblevenus，andagainhelookedatthemadonnawiththesaviourandst.john.theystoppedbeforethepicturebybronzino，inwhichchristisrepresentedasstandinginthelowerworld，withthechildrensmilingbeforehim，inthesweetexpectationofenteringheaven；andthepoorboysmiled，too，forherewashisheaven.“youmaygohomenow，”saidthepainter，whiletheboystoodwatchinghim，tillhehadsetuphiseasel.“mayiseeyoupaint？”askedtheboy； “mayiseeyouputthepictureonthiswhitecanvas？”“iamnotgoingtopaintyet，”repliedtheartist；thenhebroughtoutapieceofchalk.hishandmovedquickly，andhiseyemeasuredthegreatpicture；andthoughnothingappearedbutafaintline，thefigureofthesaviourwasasclearlyvisibleasinthecoloredpicture.“whydontyougo？”saidthepainter.thentheboywanderedhomesilently，andseatedhimselfonthetable，andlearnedtosewgloves.butalldaylonghisthoughtswereinthepicturegallery；andsoheprickedhisfingersandwasawkward.buthedidnotteasebellissima.wheneveningcame，andthehousedoorstoodopen，heslippedout.itwasabright，beautiful，starlightevening，butrathercold.awayhewentthroughthealready-desertedstreets，andsooncametothemetalpig；hestoopeddownandkisseditsshiningnose，andthenseatedhimselfonitsback.“youhappycreature，”hesaid； “howihavelongedforyou！wemusttakearideto-night.”butthemetalpiglaymotionless，whilethefreshstreamgushedforthfromitsmouth.thelittleboystillsatastrideonitsback，whenhefeltsomethingpullingathisclothes.helookeddown，andtherewasbellissima，littlesmooth-shavenbellissima，barkingasifshewouldhavesaid， “hereiamtoo；whyareyousittingthere？”afierydragoncouldnothavefrightenedthelittleboysomuchasdidthelittledoginthisplace. “bellissimainthestreet，andnotdressed！”astheoldladycalledit； “whatwouldbetheendofthis？”thedogneverwentoutinwinter，unlessshewasattiredinalittlelambskincoatwhichhadbeenmadeforher；itwasfastenedroundthelittledogsneckandbodywithredribbons，andwasdecoratedwithrosettesandlittlebells.thedoglookedalmostlikealittlekidwhenshewasallowedtogooutinwinter，andtrotafterhermistress.andnowhereshewasinthecold，andnotdressed.oh，howwoulditend？allhisfancieswerequicklyputtoflight；yethekissedthemetalpigoncemore，andthentookbellissimainhisarms.thepoorlittlethingtrembledsowithcold，thattheboyranhomewardasfastashecould.“whatareyourunningawaywiththere？”askedtwoofthepolicewhomhemet，andatwhomthedogbarked. “wherehaveyoustolenthatprettydog？”theyasked；andtheytookitawayfromhim.“oh，ihavenotstolenit；dogiveittomebackagain，”criedtheboy，despairingly.“ifyouhavenotstolenit，youmaysayathomethattheycansendtothewatch-houseforthedog.”thentheytoldhimwherethewatch-housewas，andwentawaywithbellissima.herewasadreadfultrouble.theboydidnotknowwhetherhehadbetterjumpintothearno，orgohomeandconfesseverything.theywouldcertainlykillhim，hethought.“well，iwouldgladlybekilled，”hereasoned； “forthenishalldie，andgotoheaven：”andsohewenthome，almosthopingfordeath.thedoorwaslocked，andhecouldnotreachtheknocker.noonewasinthestreet；sohetookupastone，andwithitmadeatremendousnoiseatthedoor.“whoisthere？”askedsomebodyfromwithin.“itisi，”saidhe. “bellissimaisgone.openthedoor，andthenkillme.”thenindeedtherewasagreatpanic.madamewassoveryfondofbellissima.sheimmediatelylookedatthewallwherethedogsdressusuallyhung；andtherewasthelittlelambskin.“bellissimainthewatch-house！”shecried. “youbadboy！howdidyouenticeherout？poorlittledelicatething，withthos