Читать «Cup of Gold (Золотая чаша)» онлайн - страница 13

Henry studied the floor with drawn brows. At last he said, "There is so much bother about me. I cannot seem to talk of this thing, Merlin. I will come back. Surely I will when this burning for new things is quenched. But don't you see that I must go, for it seems that I am cut in half and only one part of me here. The other piece is over the sea, calling and calling me to come and be whole. I love Cambria, and I will come back when I am whole again."

Merlin searched the boy's face closely. Sadly he looked up at his harps. "I think I understand," he said softly. "You are a little boy. You want the moon to drink from as golden cup; and so, it is very likely that you will become a great man-if only you remain a little child. All the world's great have been little boys who wanted the moon running and climbing, they sometimes caught a firefly. But if one grow to a man's mind, that mind must see that it cannot have the moon and would not want it if it could.-and so, it catches no fireflies.

"But did you never want the moon?" asked Henry in a voice hushed with the room's quiet.

"I wanted it. Above all desires I wanted it. I reached for it and then-then I grew to be a man, and a failure. But there is this gift for the failure; folk know he has failed, and they are sorry and kindly and gentle. He has the whole world with him; a bridge of contact with his own people; the cloth of mediocrity.

But he who shields a firefly in his hands, caught in reaching for the moon, is doubly alone; he only can realize his true failure, can realize his meanness and fears and evasions.

"You will come to your greatness, and it may be in time you will be alone in your greatness and no friend anywhere; only those who hold you in respect or fear or awe. I am sorry for you, boy with the straight, clear eyes which look upward longingly. I am sorry for you, and-Mother Heaven! how I envy you."

Dusk was stealing into the mountain creases, filling them with purple mist. The sun cut itself on a sharp hill and bled into the valleys. Long shadows of the peaks crept out into the fields like stalking gray cats.

When Merlin spoke, it was with a little laugh.

"Do not think deeply of my words," he said, "for I myself am not at all sure of them. Dreams you may know by a quality we call inconsistency-but how could you classify the lightning?" Now the night was closing in quickly, and Henry jumped to his feet.

"Oh, but I must be going! The dark is in!"

"Yes, you must go, but do not think closely of my words. I may have been trying to impress you with these words. Old men need a certain silent flattery when they have come to distrust that which is spoken.

Only remember that Merlin talked with you. And if you come on the Welsh folk anywhere, singing my songs that were made so long ago, tell them that you know me; tell them that I am a glorious creature with blue wings. I don't want to be forgotten, Henry. That is greater horror to an old man than death-to be forgotten."