IN THE DUCK-YARD

A DUCK arrived from Portugal．Some said from Spain，but that's all the same．She was called the Portuguese，and laid eggs，and was killed and cooked，and that was her career．But the ducklings which crept forth from her eggs were afterwards also called Portuguese，and there is something in that．Now，of the whole family there was only one left in the duck-yard，a yard to which the chickens had access likewise，and where the cook strutted about with infinite pride．

“He annoys me with his loud crowing！”observed the Portuguese Duck．“But he is a handsome bird，there's no denying that，though he is not a drake．He ought to moderate himself，but that's an art which shows superior breeding，like that possessed by the little singing birds over in the lime trees in the neighbour's garden．How charmingly they sing！There's something quite pretty in their warbling．I call it Portugal．If I had only such a little singing bird，I’d be a mother to him，kind and good，for that's in my blood，my Portuguese blood！”

And while she was still speaking，a little Singing Bird came head over heels from the roof into the yard．The cat was behind him，but the Bird escaped with a broken wing，and came tumbling into the yard．

“That's just like the cat，the villain！”said the Portuguese Duck．“I remember him when I had children of my own．That such a creature should be allowed to live，and to wander about upon the roofs！I don't think they do such things in Portugal！”

And she pitied the little Singing Bird，and the other Ducks who were not of Portuguese descent pitied him too．

“Poor little creature！”they said，as one after another came up．“We certainly can't sing，”they said，“but we have an internal feeling for song，or something of the kind，within us ；we can feel that，though we don't talk of it．”

“But I can talk of it，”said the Portuguese Duck；“and I'll do something for the little fellow，for that's my duty！”And she stepped into the water-trough，and beat her wings upon the water so heartily，that the little Singing Bird was almost drowned by the bath he got，but the Duck meant it kindly．“That's a good deed，”she said：“the others may take example by it．”

“Piep！”said the little Bird：one of his wings was broken，and he found it difficult to shake himself；but he quite understood that the bath was kindly meant．“You are very kind-hearted，madam，”he said；but he did not wish for a second bath．

“I have never thought about my heart，”continued the Portuguese Duck，“but I know this much，that I love all my fellow creatures except the cat；but nobody can expect me to love him，for he ate up two of my ducklings．But pray make yourself at home，for one can make oneself comfortable．I myself am from a strange country，as you may see from my bearing and from my feathery dress．My drake is a native of these parts，he's not of my race；but for all that I'm not proud！If anyone here in the yard can under-stand you，I may assert that I am that person．”

“She's quite full of Portulak，”said a little common Duck，who was witty；and all the other common Ducks considered the word Portulak quite a good joke，for it sounded like Portugal；and they nudged each other and said“Rapp！”It was too witty！And all the other Ducks now began to notice the little Singing Bird．

“The Portuguese has certainly a greater command of language，”they said．“For our part，we don't care to fill our beaks with such long words，but our sympathy is just as great．If we don't do anything for you，we do not say any-thing about it；and we think that the best thing we can do．”

“You have a lovely voice，”said one of the oldest．“It must be a great satisfaction to be able to give so much pleasure as you are able to impart．I certainly am no great judge of your song，and consequently I keep my beak shut；and even that is better than talking nonsense to you，as others do．“

“Don't plague him so，”interposed the Portuguese Duck：“he requires rest and nursing．Little Singing Bird，shall I splash you again？”

“Oh，no！Pray let me be dry！” he begged．

“The water cure is the only thing that helps me，”quoth the Portuguese．“Amusement is beneficial too．The neighbouring fowls will soon come to pay their visit．There are two Cochin-Chinas among them．They wear feathers on their legs，are well educated，and have been brought from afar，that raises them in my regard．”

And the Fowls came，and the Cock came；today he was polite enough to abstain from being rude．”

“You are a true Singing Bird，”he said，“and you do as much with your little voice as can possibly be done with it．But one requires a little more shrillness，that every hearer may hear that one is a male．”

The two Chinese stood quite enchanted with the ap-pearance of the Singing Bird．He looked very much rum-pled after his bath，so that he seemed to them to have quite the appearance of a little Cochin-China fowl．

“He's charming，”they cried，and began a conversation with him，speaking in whispers，and using the most aristocratic Chinese dialect．

“We are of your race，”they continued．“The Ducks，even the Portuguese，are swimming birds，as you cannot fail to have noticed．You do not know us yet；very few know us，or give themselves the trouble to make our acquaintance—not even any of the fowls，though we are born to sit on a higher perch than most of the rest．But that does not disturb us：we quietly pursue our path amid the others，whose principles are certainly not ours；but we look at things on the favourable side，and only speak of what is good，though it is difficult sometimes to find something when nothing exists．Except us two and the Cook there's no one in the whole poultry-yard who is at once talented and polite．It cannot even be said of the in-habitants of the duck-yard．We warn you，little Singing Bird：don't trust that one yonder with the short tail feathers，for she's cunning．The pied one there，with the crooked stripes on her wings，is a strife-seeker，and lets nobody have the last word，though she's always in the wrong．The fat duck yonder speaks evil of everyone，and that's against our principles；if we have nothing good to tell，we should hold our beaks．The Portuguese is the only one who has any education，and with whom one can associ-ate，but she is passionate，and talks too much about Portugal．”

“What a lot those two Chinese have to whisper，”whispered one Duck to her friend．“They annoy me—I have never spoken to them．”

Now the Drake came up．He thought the little Singing Bird was a sparrow．

“Well，I don't understand the difference，”he said；“and indeed it's all the same thing．He's only a play-thing，and if one has them，why，one has them．”

“Don't attach any value to what he says，”the Portuguese whispered．“He's very respectable in business matters；and with him business takes precedence of every-thing．But now I shall lie down for a rest．One owes that to oneself，that one may be nice and fat when one is to be embalmed with apples and prunes．”

And accordingly she lay down in the sun，and winked with one eye；and she lay very comfortably，and she felt very comfortable，and she slept very comfortably．

The little Singing Bird busied himself with his broken wing．At last he lay down too，close to his protectress：the sun shone warm and bright，and he had found a very good place．

But the neighbour's fowls went about scratching up the earth；and，to tell the truth，they had paid the visit simply and solely to find food for themselves．The Chinese were the first to leave the duck-yard，and the other fowls soon followed them．The witty little Duck said of the Portuguese that the old lady would soon be in her second ducklinghood．At this the other Ducks laughed and cackled aloud．“Second ducklinghood，”they said；“that is too wit-ty！”and then they repeated the former joke about Portulak，and declared that it was vastly amusing．And then they lay down．

They had been lying asleep for some time，when suddenly something was thrown into the yard for them to eat．It came down with such a thwack，that the whole company started up from sleep and clapped their wings．The Portuguese awoke too，and threw herself over on the other side，pressing the little Singing Bird very hard as she did so．

“Piep！”he cried；“you trod very hard upon me，madam．”

“Well，why do you lie in my way？”the Duck retort-ed．“You must not be so touchy．I have nerves of my own，but yet I never called out‘Piep！’”

“Don't be angry，”said the little Bird；“the‘piep’came out of my beak unawares．”

The Portuguese did not listen to him，but began eating as fast as she could，and made a good meal．When this was ended，and she lay down again，the little Bird came up，and wanted to be amiable，and sang：

“Tilly-lilly lee，

Of your dear heart

I'll sing so oft

As far and wide I flee．”

“Now I want to rest after my dinner，”said the Portuguese．“You must conform to the rules of the house while you're here．I want to sleep now．”

The little Singing Bird was quite taken aback，for he had meant it kindly．When Madam afterwards awoke，he stood before her again with a little corn that he had found，and laid it at her feet；but as she had not slept well，she was naturally in a very bad humour．

“Give that to a chicken！”she said，“and don't be always standing in my way．”

“Why are you angry with me？”replied the little Singing Bird．“What have I done？”

“Done？”repeated the Portuguese Duck：“your mode of expression is not exactly genteel；a fact to which I must call your attention．”

“Yesterday it was sunshine here，”said the little Bird，“but today it's cloudy and grey．”

“You don't know much about the weather，I fancy，”retorted the Portuguese．“The day is not done yet．Don't stand there looking so stupid．”

“But you are looking at me just as the wicked eyes looked when I fell into the yard yesterday．”

“Impertinent creature！”exclaimed the Portuguese Duck，“would you compare me with the cat，that beast of prey？There's not a drop of malicious blood in me．I've taken your part，and will teach you good manners．”

And so saying，she bit off the Singing Bird's head，and he lay dead on the ground．

“Now，what's the meaning of this？she said，“could he not bear even that？Then certainly he was not made for this world．I've been like a mother to him，I know that，for I've a good heart．”

Then the neighbour's Cock stuck his head into the Yard，and crowed with steam-engine power．

“You'll kill me with your crowing！” she cried．“It is all your fault．He's lost his head，and I am very near losing mine．”

“There's not much lying where he fell！”observed the Cock．

“Speak of him with respect，” retorted the Portuguese Duck，“for he had song，manners，and education．He was affectionate and soft，and that's as good in animals as in your so-called human beings．”

And all the Ducks came crowding round the little dead Singing Bird．Ducks have strong passions，whether they feel envy or pity；and as there was nothing here to envy，pity manifested itself，even in the two Chinese．

“We shall never get such a singing bird again；he was almost a Chinese，”they whispered；and they wept with a mighty clucking sound，and all the fowls clucked too，but the Ducks went about with the redder eyes．

“We've hearts of our own，”they said；“nobody can deny that．”

“Hearts！”repeated the Portuguese，“yes，that we have，almost as much as in Portugal．”

“Let us think of getting something to satisfy our hunger，”said the Drake，“for that's the most important point．If one of our toys is broken，why，we have plenty more！”

在养鸭场里

 

有一只母鸭从葡萄牙到来了。有人说她是从西班牙来的，不过这也没有什么了不起的分别。大家都把她叫葡萄牙的鸭子。她下蛋，被人杀掉，然后被做成菜拿出来吃——这就是她一生的事业。不过，从她的蛋里爬出的那些小鸭子居然也被叫做葡萄牙的鸭子——这里面倒颇有文章。这整个家族现在只剩下一只鸭子了。她住在养鸭场里，而这个场子鸡也可以进去。有一只公鸡就在里面趾高气扬地走来走去。

“他的大声啼叫倒使我怪讨厌的，”葡萄牙的鸭子说。“不过，虽然他不是一只公鸭，他倒还是蛮漂亮的——谁也不能否认这一点。他应该把他的声音略微节制一下，但是‘节制’是一种艺术，只有受过高等教育的人才能做得到。附近菩提树上的那些小小歌鸟就是这样。他们唱得才好听呢！他们的歌里有某种感动人的特点。我认为这种特点才配得上‘葡萄牙’这个形容词。如果我有这样的一只小歌鸟，我倒很愿意做他的慈爱的母亲呢，因为在我的血统里——葡萄牙的血统里——我有这种慈爱的心肠。”

当她正在说这话的时候，忽然有一只小小的歌鸟坠落下来了。他是从屋顶上倒栽葱地坠落下来的。一只猫儿在追着他，但是鸟儿拍着受伤的翅膀逃脱了，最后落到养鸭场里来。

“你看猫儿这个坏东西，简直原形毕露！”葡萄牙的鸭子说，“自从我有了孩子以后，我就领教过他了！这样一个东西居然得到生存的权利，在屋顶上跑来跑去！我想这种事情在葡萄牙是不容许的。”

她可怜这只小歌鸟，别的非葡萄牙种的鸭子也可怜他。

“可怜的小东西！”她们说，于是她们一个接着一个地围拢来了。“我们是不会唱歌的，”她们说，“不过我们有一种内在的‘歌唱感’——或者类似这样的东西。这一点我们可以感觉得到，虽然我们不把它挂在嘴边。”

“但是我可要讲出来，”葡萄牙的鸭子说，“而且我要帮助他，这是我的责任。”于是她走进水槽里去，用翅膀在水里大拍一通。她拍出的水几乎把这只小歌鸟淹死了，但是她的用意是好的。“这才是帮助人呢，”她说；“别的人可以仔细瞧瞧，向我学习。”

“吱！”小鸟说。他有一只翅膀受了伤，很难飞动，不过他知道，这次淋水完全是由善意所造成的。“太太，您是一个好心肠的人！”他说，不过他不希望再淋一次水。

“我从来没有想到过我的心肠，”葡萄牙的鸭子说。“不过有一件事情我知道：我爱我周围的一切生物——只有猫子是例外。谁也不能希望我爱他，因为他吃掉过我的两个孩子！

不过请你把这儿当作你的家吧，因为你可以这样办呀！我本人就是从外国来的——这一点你可以从我的态度和我的羽衣看得出来。我的鸭公是本地人，没有我这样的血统——但我并不因此而骄傲！如果这里有什么人了解你的话，我敢说这人就是我。”

“她的嗉子里全是葡萄拉，”一只很有风趣的普通小鸭说。别的一些普通小鸭认为“马齿苋”这个字用得非常妙，因为它的发音跟“葡萄牙”这名词差不多。大家彼此轻轻地推了一下，同时说一声“嘎！”这只小鸭真是滑稽透了！

于是大家便开始注意那只小小的歌鸟了。

“葡萄牙鸭子在掌握语言方面真有本领，”

大家说。“我们的嘴里就装不住这样大的字眼，不过我们的同情心却并不比她小。如果我们不能替你做点什么事情，我们就一句话也不讲——我们觉得这是一种最好的办法！”

“你有一个很美丽的声音，”最老的一只鸭子说。“你这样能够叫许多人快乐，你自己一定也很满意的吧。我对于唱歌不内行，因此我就把我的嘴闭起来。这比讲无聊的话好得多——别人就是喜欢对你讲无聊话。”

“请不要这样麻烦他吧！”葡萄牙鸭子说。“他需要休息和保养呀。小小的歌鸟，要不要我们再给你淋一次水？”

“哎唷，不要！我愿意保持干燥！”他恳求说。

“就我说来，唯一有效的办法是水疗，”葡萄牙鸭子说。“不过游戏也有效！邻近的鸡子不久就要来拜访我们。他们中间有两只中国母鸡。她们穿着长裤子，都受过很好的教育，而且是从外国来的。这在我看来，她们的地位提高不少。”

于是母鸡来了，公鸡也来了。这只公鸡今天算是相当客气，没有当场摆架子。

“你是一只真正的歌鸟，”他说。“凡是你的小声音所能做到的事情，你全都做到了。不过你还得加一点劲儿，好使人家一听就知道你是一只公鸟。”

这两只中国鸡被歌鸟的一副样儿迷住了。他的毛淋了一番水后仍然是蓬着的，因此她们都觉得他很像一只中国小鸡。

“他很可爱！”于是她们开始跟他聊起天来。她们用贵族的中国话——其中包括低声和“呸”这类的声音——和他交谈。

“我们和你是同一个种族。鸭子——甚至葡萄牙的鸭子——是属于水鸟这一族的，这一点你一眼就可以看得出来。你还不认识我们，不过有多少人认识我们或愿意花点工夫来认识我们呢？没有一个人，连一个母鸡也没有，虽然比起大多数人来，我们生来就是要栖在更高一层的栖柱上的。不过这也没有什么了不起的关系：我们跟大家一起安静地过我们自己的日子。他们的理想跟我们的理想大不相同，但是我们只看好的一面，我们只谈好的事情，虽然本来没有什么好话而硬说好是很困难的。除了我们两个和那只公鸡以外，鸡屋里再没有一个有天才的人。谈到‘诚实’，养鸭场里没有一个人是诚实的。小小的歌鸟，我们忠告你：你切不要相信那边的一个短尾巴的女人，她才狡猾呢。那个翅膀上长着弯线条的杂色女人专门找人吵架。虽然她自己没有理，她可不让别人讲一句话。那边的一只肥鸭子总是说人家的坏话，这是跟我们的性格相反的。如果我们不能说人家的好话，那末你把嘴闭起来好了。那只葡萄牙鸭子是唯一受过一点教育的人。你可以跟她来往，不过她太感情用事，老是谈起葡萄牙。”

“那两个中国女人的话真多！”有一对鸭子说。“她们真使我感到讨厌！我从来没有跟她们讲过话。”

现在公鸭来了！他以为歌鸟是一只麻雀。

“嗯，我看不出什么分别，”他说，“全是半斤八两！他是一个玩物。有他没有他都是一样。”

“不要理他说的这一套！”葡萄牙鸭子低声说。“他做起生意来可是蛮有道理的，而且他只懂得生意。不过现在我要躺下来休息一下。我应该这样办，为的是要使我能长得胖些，好叫人能在我身上涂一层苹果和梅子酱。”

于是她眨着一只眼睛在太阳光里躺下来。她舒舒服服地躺着，也感到非常舒服，也睡得非常舒服。歌鸟忙着啄他那只受了伤的翅膀，最后他也在他的恩人身边躺下来。太阳照得又温暖，又光明。这真是一块好地方。

邻家来的母鸡在扒土。老实讲，她们来拜访完全是为了找点东西吃。那两只中国鸡先离开，其余的也跟着走了。那只风趣的小鸭谈到葡萄牙鸭子的时候说，这个老太婆快要过她的“第二度童年”了。别的鸭子都笑起来：“第二度童年！他的话说得真妙！”于是大家又提起头一次关于“葡萄拉”的玩笑。这真是非常滑稽！于是大家都躺下来了。

他们躺了一会儿以后，忽然有人抛了一点吃的东西到场子里来。这东西“砰”的一声落到地上，弄得大家从睡梦中惊醒过来，拍起翅膀。葡萄牙鸭子也醒了，她翻了一个身，把那只小歌鸟压得透不过气来。

“吱！”他叫起来。“太太，您压得太重了！”

“谁叫你躺在我面前呢？”她说。“你太神经过敏了！我也有神经呀，但是我从来不说一声‘吱’！”

“请您不要生气吧！”小鸟说。“这个‘吱’是不知不觉地从我的嘴里冒出来的。”

葡萄牙鸭子不理他，但是尽快地抢那食物吃，而且吃得很痛快。她吃完了以后又躺下来。小鸟走过来，想用歌声引起她的好感：

滴——丽，滴——丽！

您的好心地是我歌唱的主题，我要飞起，飞起。

“吃完饭以后我得休息一下，”她说。“你住在这里，必须遵守这里的规矩！我现在要睡了。”

小歌鸟大吃一惊，因为他本来的用意是很好的。太太睡醒了以后，他衔着他所寻到的一颗麦粒站在她面前。他把麦粒放在她的脚下。但是她没有睡好，因此她的心情自然不佳。

“把这送给小鸡吃吧，”她说，“不要老呆在我旁边呀！”

“但是您为什么要生我的气呢？”他问。“我做了什么对不起您的事情呢？”

“做了什么对不起我的事情！”葡萄牙鸭子说。“你用的字眼不太文雅！这一点我请你注意。”

“昨天这里有太阳光，”小鸟说。“今天这里却是阴暗的！这使我感到怪难过的。”

“你对于天气的知识是一窍不通！”葡萄牙鸭子说。“这一天还没有完呀。不要呆在这儿像一个傻瓜吧！”

“您看人的这副凶样子，跟我落到这里时那些恶眼睛看我的凶样子差不多。”

“简直岂有此理！”葡萄牙鸭子说。“难道你把我跟那个强盗——那只猫相比吗？我身体里一滴坏血也没有。我得为你负责任，我要教你学些礼貌。”

于是她就把这歌鸟的头咬掉了。他倒下死了。

“这是什么意思？”她说，“难道他这一点都受不了？这样说来，他是不配活在这个世界上的了！我对他一直是像一个母亲；这一点我知道，因为我有一颗母亲的心。”

邻家的公鸡把头伸进院子里来，像一个火车头似地大叫了一声。

“你这一叫简直要把我吓死了，”她说。“这完全要怪你。他吓掉了他的头，我也几乎要吓掉我的头。”

“他这么点小的东西有什么值得一提，”公鸡说。

“对他说话放客气些吧！”葡萄牙鸭子说。“他有声音，他会唱歌，他受过好的教育！他很体贴，也很温柔——无论在动物中，或在你所谓的人类中，这都是很好的。”

所有的鸭子都挤到这只死去了的小歌鸟身边来。不管他们是感到嫉妒或怜悯，这些鸭子都表现得非常热情。但是现在这儿既然没有什么东西可嫉妒，他们自然感到怜悯。甚至那两只中国母鸡都是这样。

“我们再也找不到这样的歌鸟了！他差不多算得是一只中国鸟。”于是母鸡都嘎嘎地哭起来，不过鸭子只是把眼睛弄得红了一点。

“我们都是好心肠的人，”她们说。“这一点谁也不能否认。”

“好心肠！”葡萄牙鸭子说，“是的，我们都有好心肠，差不多跟在葡萄牙一样！”

“我们现在还是找点东西塞进嗉子里去吧，”鸭公说。“这才是重要的事情呢！一个玩物打碎了算什么？我们有的是！”

 

这个故事最初发表在《新的童话和故事集》第2卷第1部里。这里的“养鸭场”实际上也是人世间的一个小缩影：你争我夺，各人都“从实际出发”，损人利己，小心眼，但却又要装得慷慨大方，做出一副正人君子相。葡萄牙鸭子对小歌鸟的表现就是如此。葡萄牙鸭子说：“他有声音，他会歌唱，他受过好的教育！他很体贴，也很温柔——无论在动物中，或在你所谓的人类中，这都是很好的。”事实上他（小歌鸟）就是被这只葡萄牙鸭子咬死的。