A House of Pomegranates - Oscar Wilde (reading in the dark .txt) 📗

shalt thou

find thy mother, who is waiting for thee.’

 

So he ran in, filled with wonder and great gladness. But when he

saw her who was waiting there, he laughed scornfully and said,

‘Why, where is my mother? For I see none here but this vile

beggar-woman.’

 

And the woman answered him, ‘I am thy mother.’

 

‘Thou art mad to say so,’ cried the Star-Child angrily. ‘I am no

son of thine, for thou art a beggar, and ugly, and in rags.

Therefore get thee hence, and let me see thy foul face no more.’

 

‘Nay, but thou art indeed my little son, whom I bare in the

forest,’ she cried, and she fell on her knees, and held out her

arms to him. ‘The robbers stole thee from me, and left thee to

die,’ she murmured, ‘but I recognised thee when I saw thee, and the

signs also have I recognised, the cloak of golden tissue and the

amber chain. Therefore I pray thee come with me, for over the

whole world have I wandered in search of thee. Come with me, my

son, for I have need of thy love.’

 

But the Star-Child stirred not from his place, but shut the doors

of his heart against her, nor was there any sound heard save the

sound of the woman weeping for pain.

 

And at last he spoke to her, and his voice was hard and bitter.

‘If in very truth thou art my mother,’ he said, ‘it had been better

hadst thou stayed away, and not come here to bring me to shame,

seeing that I thought I was the child of some Star, and not a

beggar’s child, as thou tellest me that I am. Therefore get thee

hence, and let me see thee no more.’

 

‘Alas! my son,’ she cried, ‘wilt thou not kiss me before I go? For

I have suffered much to find thee.’

 

‘Nay,’ said the Star-Child, ‘but thou art too foul to look at, and

rather would I kiss the adder or the toad than thee.’

 

So the woman rose up, and went away into the forest weeping

bitterly, and when the Star-Child saw that she had gone, he was

glad, and ran back to his playmates that he might play with them.

 

But when they beheld him coming, they mocked him and said, ‘Why,

thou art as foul as the toad, and as loathsome as the adder. Get

thee hence, for we will not suffer thee to play with us,’ and they

drave him out of the garden.

 

And the Star-Child frowned and said to himself, ‘What is this that

they say to me? I will go to the well of water and look into it,

and it shall tell me of my beauty.’

 

So he went to the well of water and looked into it, and lo! his

face was as the face of a toad, and his body was sealed like an

adder. And he flung himself down on the grass and wept, and said

to himself, ‘Surely this has come upon me by reason of my sin. For

I have denied my mother, and driven her away, and been proud, and

cruel to her. Wherefore I will go and seek her through the whole

world, nor will I rest till I have found her.’

 

And there came to him the little daughter of the Woodcutter, and

she put her hand upon his shoulder and said, ‘What doth it matter

if thou hast lost thy comeliness? Stay with us, and I will not

mock at thee.’

 

And he said to her, ‘Nay, but I have been cruel to my mother, and

as a punishment has this evil been sent to me. Wherefore I must go

hence, and wander through the world till I find her, and she give

me her forgiveness.’

 

So he ran away into the forest and called out to his mother to come

to him, but there was no answer. All day long he called to her,

and, when the sun set he lay down to sleep on a bed of leaves, and

the birds and the animals fled from him, for they remembered his

cruelty, and he was alone save for the toad that watched him, and

the slow adder that crawled past.

 

And in the morning he rose up, and plucked some bitter berries from

the trees and ate them, and took his way through the great wood,

weeping sorely. And of everything that he met he made inquiry if

perchance they had seen his mother.

 

He said to the Mole, ‘Thou canst go beneath the earth. Tell me, is

my mother there?’

 

And the Mole answered, ‘Thou hast blinded mine eyes. How should I

know?’

 

He said to the Linnet, ‘Thou canst fly over the tops of the tall

trees, and canst see the whole world. Tell me, canst thou see my

mother?’

 

And the Linnet answered, ‘Thou hast clipt my wings for thy

pleasure. How should I fly?’

 

And to the little Squirrel who lived in the fir-tree, and was

lonely, he said, ‘Where is my mother?’

 

And the Squirrel answered, ‘Thou hast slain mine. Dost thou seek

to slay thine also?’

 

And the Star-Child wept and bowed his head, and prayed forgiveness

of God’s things, and went on through the forest, seeking for the

beggar-woman. And on the third day he came to the other side of

the forest and went down into the plain.

 

And when he passed through the villages the children mocked him,

and threw stones at him, and the carlots would not suffer him even

to sleep in the byres lest he might bring mildew on the stored

corn, so foul was he to look at, and their hired men drave him

away, and there was none who had pity on him. Nor could he hear

anywhere of the beggar-woman who was his mother, though for the

space of three years he wandered over the world, and often seemed

to see her on the road in front of him, and would call to her, and

run after her till the sharp flints made his feet to bleed. But

overtake her he could not, and those who dwelt by the way did ever

deny that they had seen her, or any like to her, and they made

sport of his sorrow.

 

For the space of three years he wandered over the world, and in the

world there was neither love nor loving-kindness nor charity for

him, but it was even such a world as he had made for himself in the

days of his great pride.

 

And one evening he came to the gate of a strong-walled city that

stood by a river, and, weary and footsore though he was, he made to

enter in. But the soldiers who stood on guard dropped their

halberts across the entrance, and said roughly to him, ‘What is thy

business in the city?’

 

‘I am seeking for my mother,’ he answered, ‘and I pray ye to suffer

me to pass, for it may be that she is in this city.’

 

But they mocked at him, and one of them wagged a black beard, and

set down his shield and cried, ‘Of a truth, thy mother will not be

merry when she sees thee, for thou art more ill-favoured than the

toad of the marsh, or the adder that crawls in the fen. Get thee

gone. Get thee gone. Thy mother dwells not in this city.’

 

And another, who held a yellow banner in his hand, said to him,

‘Who is thy mother, and wherefore art thou seeking for her?’

 

And he answered, ‘My mother is a beggar even as I am, and I have

treated her evilly, and I pray ye to suffer me to pass that she may

give me her forgiveness, if it be that she tarrieth in this city.’

But they would not, and pricked him with their spears.

 

And, as he turned away weeping, one whose armour was inlaid with

gilt flowers, and on whose helmet couched a lion that had wings,

came up and made inquiry of the soldiers who it was who had sought

entrance. And they said to him, ‘It is a beggar and the child of a

beggar, and we have driven him away.’

 

‘Nay,’ he cried, laughing, ‘but we will sell the foul thing for a

slave, and his price shall be the price of a bowl of sweet wine.’

 

And an old and evil-visaged man who was passing by called out, and

said, ‘I will buy him for that price,’ and, when he had paid the

price, he took the Star-Child by the hand and led him into the

city.

 

And after that they had gone through many streets they came to a

little door that was set in a wall that was covered with a

pomegranate tree. And the old man touched the door with a ring of

graved jasper and it opened, and they went down five steps of brass

into a garden filled with black poppies and green jars of burnt

clay. And the old man took then from his turban a scarf of figured

silk, and bound with it the eyes of the Star-Child, and drave him

in front of him. And when the scarf was taken off his eyes, the

Star-Child found himself in a dungeon, that was lit by a lantern of

horn.

 

And the old man set before him some mouldy bread on a trencher and

said, ‘Eat,’ and some brackish water in a cup and said, ‘Drink,’

and when he had eaten and drunk, the old man went out, locking the

door behind him and fastening it with an iron chain.

 

And on the morrow the old man, who was indeed the subtlest of the

magicians of Libya and had learned his art from one who dwelt in

the tombs of the Nile, came in to him and frowned at him, and said,

‘In a wood that is nigh to the gate of this city of Giaours there

are three pieces of gold. One is of white gold, and another is of

yellow gold, and the gold of the third one is red. To-day thou

shalt bring me the piece of white gold, and if thou bringest it not

back, I will beat thee with a hundred stripes. Get thee away

quickly, and at sunset I will be waiting for thee at the door of

the garden. See that thou bringest the white gold, or it shall go

ill with thee, for thou art my slave, and I have bought thee for

the price of a bowl of sweet wine.’ And he bound the eyes of the

Star-Child with the scarf of figured silk, and led him through the

house, and through the garden of poppies, and up the five steps of

brass. And having opened the little door with his ring he set him

in the street.

 

And the Star-Child went out of the gate of the city, and came to

the wood of which the Magician had spoken to him.

 

Now this wood was very fair to look at from without, and seemed

full of singing birds and of sweet-scented flowers, and the Star-Child entered it gladly. Yet did its beauty profit him little, for

wherever he went harsh briars and thorns shot up from the ground

and encompassed him, and evil nettles stung him, and the thistle

pierced him with her daggers, so that he was in sore distress. Nor

could he anywhere find the piece of white gold of which the

Magician had spoken, though he sought for it from morn to noon, and

from noon to sunset. And at