The Cake

I was travelling. The landscape in the midst of which I

was seated was of an irresistible grandeur and sublimity.

Something no doubt at that moment passed from it into my

soul. My thoughts fluttered with a lightness like that of the

atmosphere; vulgar passions, such as hate and profane love,

seemed to me now as far away as the clouds that floated in the

gulfs beneath my feet; my soul seemed to me as vast and pure

as the dome of the sky that enveloped me; the remembrance of

earthly things came as faintly to my heart as the thin tinkle

of the bells of unseen herds, browsing far, far away, on the

slope of another mountain. Across the little motionless lake,

black with the darkness of its immense depth, there passed

from time to time the shadow of a cloud, like the shadow of an

airy giant's cloak, flying through heaven. And I remember that

this rare and solemn sensation, caused by a vast and perfectly

silent movement, filled me with mingled joy and fear. In a

word, thanks to the enrapturing beauty about me, I felt that

I was at perfect peace with myself and with the universe; I

even believe that, in my complete forgetfulness of all earthly

evil, I had come to think the newspapers are right after all,

and man was born good; when, incorrigible matter renewing its

exigences, I sought to refresh the fatigue and satisfy the

appetite caused by so lengthy a climb. I took from my pocket

a large piece of bread, a leathern cup, and a small bottle

of a certain elixir which the chemists at that time sold to

tourists, to be mixed, on occasion, with liquid snow.

I was quietly cutting my bread when a slight noise made me

look up. I saw in front of me a little ragged urchin, dark

and dishevelled, whose hollow eyes, wild and supplicating,

devoured the piece of bread. And I heard him gasp, in a low,

hoarse voice, the word: "Cake!" I could not help laughing at

the appellation with which he thought fit to honour my nearly

white bread, and I cut off a big slice and offered it to him.

Slowly he came up to me, not taking his eyes from the coveted

object; then, snatching it out of my hand, he stepped quickly

back, as if he feared that my offer was not sincere, or that I

had already repented of it.

But at the same instant he was knocked over by another little

savage, who had sprung from I know not where, and who was

so precisely like the first that one might have taken them

for twin brothers. They rolled over on the ground together,

struggling for the possession of the precious booty, neither

willing to share it with his brother. The first, exasperated,

clutched the second by the hair; and the second seized one of

the ears of the first between his teeth, and spat out a little

bleeding morsel with a fine oath in dialect. The legitimate

proprietor of the cake tried to hook his little claws into

the usurper's eyes; the latter did his best to throttle his

adversary with one hand, while with the other he endeavoured

to slip the prize of war into his pocket. But, heartened by

despair, the loser pulled himself together, and sent the victor

sprawling with a blow of the head in his stomach. Why describe

a hideous fight which indeed lasted longer than their childish

strength seemed to promise? The cake travelled from hand to

hand, and changed from pocket to pocket, at every moment but,

alas, it changed also in size; and when at length, exhausted,

panting and bleeding, they stopped from the sheer impossibility

of going on, there was no longer any cause of feud; the slice

of bread had disappeared, and lay scattered in crumbs like the

grains of sand with which it was mingled.

The sight had darkened the landscape for me, and dispelled

the joyous calm in which my soul had lain basking; I remained

saddened for quite a long time, saying over and over to myself:

"There is then a wonderful country in which bread is called

cake, and is so rare a delicacy that it is enough in itself to

give rise to a war literally fratricidal!"

Poems in Prose · 第 18 / 26 题