Chapter 4 two

here, Tristan.Song Eun enters adulthood and makes a reckless promise * Many years have passed. The Fairy Fair is once again held on the other side of the stone wall as scheduled.Little Tristan.Song En was eight years old. Instead of going to the market, he was sent to a village that was a day's drive away, where he temporarily stayed with distant relatives. The fact that his sister Louisa, who was only six months younger than him, was allowed to go to the market was the starting point of filling the boy with resentment.Louisa's glass globes from the market were filled with sequins, which shimmered in the dim light and cast a warm, soft glow in the darkened bedroom of their farmhouse; Relatives brought back nasty measles.

Soon after, the cat on the farm gave birth to three kittens: two black and white like the mother, and a small kitten with a grayish blue sheen in its fur and eyes that change color according to the mood, from green to gold to gold. Salmon red, deep red, vermilion. The little blue cat was given to Tristan as compensation for not being able to go to the market.The kitten grows slowly and is the cutest kitten in the world until one evening.It was walking impatiently around the house that day, meowing loudly, its foxglove-like purple eyes shining; when Tristan's father came home from a long day on the farm, the cat howled. Screaming, he rushed out the gate and disappeared into the dusk.

The guards at Stonewall only care about people, not cats.Tristan was twelve years old, and he never saw the blue cat again.He was depressed for a while.His father came into his bedroom one night and sat at the end of the bed and said gruffly that he was happier on the other side of the wall with his own kind.Don't worry about it, my boy. His mother hadn't told him anything about it, because she didn't tell Tristan much about anything.Sometimes Tristan looked up and saw his mother staring at him intently, as if trying to pick some secret out of his face. Sister Louisa would stab him about it on their morning walks to the town elementary school; Scalp, but not the left ear), or stupid things he's said.Once, on their way home from school, he told Louisa that when the sun went down, the little fluffy white clouds in the sky were sheep.No matter how he explained afterwards that he meant only that the clouds reminded him of sheep or some kind of fluffy thing that looked like a sheep, it didn't help.Louisa laughed at him, teased him, and tortured him like a little monster.To make matters worse, she told the other kids, inciting them to bleat quietly as Tristan walked by.Louisa was a natural demagogue and danced in circles around her brother.

The primary school in the town is a good school, under the guardianship of the headmistress Mrs. Cherry, Tristan.Song Eun learned all about decimals, longitude, and latitude.He could borrow French from the gardener, in fact from his aunt; name.He learned to read, and also wrote beautifully and neatly.Few travelers came to the town, but occasionally a peddler would come and offer penny thrillers to the townsfolk with tales of grisly murders, fateful encounters, tragic happenings, astonishing escapes.Most of the peddlers also sold sheet music, two copies for a penny, and some people would take them home and gather around the piano and sing songs like "Ripe Cherries" and "In My Father's Garden."

Days passed, weeks passed, years passed.Tristan was fourteen and had learned about sex through dirty jokes, secret whispers, and obscene ballads.At the age of fifteen, from Thomas.Mr Forrester fell from an apple tree outside his house and hurt his arm.More precisely, he is from Victoria.It fell from the apple tree outside Miss Forrester's bedroom window.To Tristan's disappointment, he saw nothing but a glimpse of a sultry pink Victoria.Victoria was the same age as his sister, and without doubt the most beautiful girl for a hundred miles. By the time Victoria was seventeen, Tristan was seventeen too, and he was sure that Victoria was quite possibly the most beautiful girl in the British Isles.Tristan insisted that she was the most beautiful in the British Empire, if not the world.If you argue with him, he will (or is going to) slap you in the face.You'd be hard-pressed to find anyone in Stonewall who disagreed with him, though.Victoria has caught the eyes of many, and quite possibly broken the hearts of many.

Describe: She has gray eyes and a heart-shaped face like her mother, and curly chestnut hair like her father.Her lips were ruddy and perfectly shaped.When she talks, her cheeks get a lovely rosy tinge.Her skin was fair and very pleasing to the eye.When she was sixteen, she quarreled violently with her mother, because she decided in her heart that she would be a cook for Seventh Magpie in the future.I have spoken to Mr. Bomius about it, and she told my mother that he has no objection. Whatever Mr. Pommus thought, her mother (formerly Bridget Confey) replied, it didn't matter.That is the most unsuitable occupation for a young lady.

The whole town of Stonewall watched this battle of wills in fascination, wondering how it would turn out, because no one could stop Bridget.forest.Townspeople said her tongue could knock paint off barn doors and tear bark from oak trees.No one in town wants to be with Bridget.Forrester contradicts.They even said it took more stonewalls to walk than bridget.It was easier for Forrester to change his mind. But Victoria.Forrester was used to getting her own way, and whether or not all else failed, she would go to her father, and her father would grant her requests.However, to Victoria's surprise, even her father agreed with her mother this time that working in the Seventh Magpie's bar was not the place for a young and well-bred lady.Then Thomas.Forrest put his chin back, and that was the end of the matter.

★ Every boy in town fell in love with Victoria.forest.And many austere gentlemen, peacefully married and grey-bearded, would stare at her as she walked down the street, be boys again for a moment, return to the spring of life, and It's spring. I heard that Mr. Mander is one of your admirers.One afternoon in May, Louisa.Song En met Victoria in the apple orchard.Forrester said. Five girls sat on the branches of the oldest apple tree in the orchard, the huge trunk of which provided comfortable seating and support.Whenever the May breeze blows, pink flowers fall like snow on their hair and skirts.The afternoon sun dappled green and silver and gold through the leaves of the apple orchards.

Victoria said disdainfully: Mr. Mander is at least forty-five years old.At seventeen, she made a face to describe how old she was at forty-five. Anyway, Louisa's cousin Cecilia.Hesta said he was married.I don't want to marry a married man.It's like, she expresses her opinion, and someone else tamed my pony. Personally I think that's the only good thing about being married to a widower.Emily.In other words, Robinson said, someone else had worn off the edges and tamed him.Besides, I can imagine that at that age, his carnal desires have been satisfied and subsided, which may save us from some shameful behavior.

Among the blooming apple blossoms, there was a burst of giggling hastily suppressed. You are right, Lucy.Pippin stammered that even if Mr. Mander was forty-five years old, he could live in a big house, own a big carriage, travel to London during his holidays, drink mineral water in Bath, or go to Braun Leiden enjoys sea bathing, which is still very good. The other girls screamed and hurled handfuls of apple blossoms at her.The one who screamed the loudest and threw the most flowers belonged to Victoria.forest. ★ Seventeen-year-old Tristan.Song was only six months older than Victoria, halfway between boy and man, and equally uncomfortable with both roles.He appears to consist mainly of the elbow and Adam's apple.His hair was the brown of wet straw, sticking out at an awkward seventeen-year-old angle, and no matter how much wetting and re-combing it was useless.

He was embarrassingly shy and overly apologetic, as people who are so shy have the habit of talking too loudly at the wrong time.Tristan was often content, as content as a seventeen-year-old with the world unfolding before him.When he was daydreaming in the pastures, or at the high table at the back of Mander and Brown's in town, he would fantasize about taking the train straight to London or Liverpool, and catching a steamer across the gray Atlantic to America. , making great fortunes from the savages of the New World. Whenever the wind blows from the other side of the stone wall, with the smell of mint, thyme, and red currant, the fire in the town fireplace will take on strange colors.When that kind of wind blows, the simplest of utensils, from yellow phosphorus matches to slides, fail. At those times, Tristan.Song Eun's daydreams were strange. They were all fantasies that made him guilty, disorganized and outlandish.Like a journey through the forest, rescuing the princess from the palace, and dreams about knights, mischievous gnomes, and mermaids.When these thoughts came to him, he would slip out of the house and lie on the grass, looking up at the stars. Because our cities and towns throw so much light into the night sky, few people see the stars as others saw them.But from Stonewall, the stars are as ordered as universes or ideas, as innumerable as trees in a forest or leaves on a tree.Tristan stared deeply at the dark sky until he couldn't think of anything before going back to bed and sleeping like a dead man. Tall and lanky and full of potential, he was like a keg of dynamite, waiting for someone or something to ignite his fuse; but no one ignited it, so he went to the farm on weekends and evenings to help his father, and during the day to cover for Brown. Sir works as a clerk at Mander and Brown's. Mander and Brown's is the town's grocery store. It always maintains some daily necessities in stock. At the same time, many businesses are negotiated through lists: the townspeople will give Mr. Brown a list of the things they need, from canned meat to There are everything from suet candles to fish cutters and chimney pipes.The clerk at Mander and Brown's store put together a general list of all the things to buy, and asked Mr. Mander to take this general list and a large truck pulled by two tall Sharmas to the nearest county. government.He will buy all the goods on the list in just a few days, and return with a whole truck piled high. A cold and blustery evening in late October, like those days when it always rains but never rains.Victoria.Forrester walked into Mander and Brown with a list in her mother's meticulous handwriting.She rang the little service bell by the counter. She looked disappointed to see Tristan emerge from the back room.Good day, Miss Forrester. With a forced smile, she handed Tristan the list. The form reads: □□□ ½ pound sago Ten cans of sardines A Bottle of Mushroom Tomato Sauce five pounds of rice cane syrup 2 pounds gooseberries bottle of rouge 1 pound barley sugar A shilling box ① Rongteri brand selected cocoa powder Three deciliters ② Canned Austrian Vanadium Knife Brightener Six deciliters of Brunswick black ③ A small packet of Swinburne fish knee A bottle of furniture cream a gravy ladle a ninepence gravy A set of kitchen ladders ① Annotation: shillingbox, an iron box with a lid popular in Britain in the nineteenth century. ②Annotation: deciliter, equivalent to one hundred milliliters. ③Annotation: A quick-drying black paint that can form a durable protective film on the surface of iron utensils. ★ Tristan looked at the list, trying to find something (any kind) he could talk about as a conversation starter. He heard his own voice say: I think you're going to make rice pudding, Miss Forrester.As soon as he said it, he knew he shouldn't have said it.Victoria pursed her perfect lips, narrowed her gray eyes and said, "Yes, Tristan.We're going to eat rice pudding. Then she smiled at Tristan and said: My mother said a good portion of rice pudding would help ward off colds and other autumn ailments. My mother, Tristan confesses, always highly recommends tapioca pudding. He stuck the list into a big nail.We can drop off most of the stuff tomorrow morning, and the rest will be back with Mr. Mander early next week. A gust of wind was blowing, so strong that the windows of the town rattled.The weathercocks on each roof were blowing incessantly, making it difficult to tell the difference between east, west, and north. The fire that burned in the hearth of Mander and Brown's shop, twisted and spewed tongues of green and crimson flames, and shimmered silver at the top.That sparkle was also made with oiled iron filings in the living room stove. The wind was blowing from fairyland to the east, and Tristan suddenly found a surge of courage in him that he never thought he would have.You know, Miss Forrester, I'm off work in a few minutes.Maybe I can walk a little way back with you.I'm still on my way.He waited, Victoria's gray eyes gazing at him with interest, his heart nearly jumping out of his mouth.After what seemed like a hundred years, Victoria said: Of course. Tristan hurried into the break room to inform Mr. Brown that he was leaving get off work.Mr. Brown, grunting in a slightly unpleasant way, told Tristan that when he was young, he not only had to stay in the shop late every day to close the shop, but he also slept on the floor behind the counter, Only use the coat as a pillow. Tristan, agreeing that he was indeed a lucky young man, wished Mr. Brown good night, took his coat from the coat rack, his new bowler hat from the hat rack, and walked out of the shop.Victoria was waiting for him on the cobbled street. As we marched, the autumn twilight turned into dark night early.Tristan could smell the harbingers of winter in the air: a strong smell, a mixture of night fog and intense darkness and fallen leaves. They walked up the winding path towards Forrest Farm.A white crescent moon hung high in the sky, and stars shone in the darkness above them. Victoria.After a while, Tristan said. What's the matter, Tristan?Victoria said.She has been walking intently. Do you think it's presumptuous of me to try to kiss you?Tristan asked. Yes, Victoria replied dryly and dryly, very presumptuously. ah.Tristan said. They walked up Detis Hill without saying a word; and at the top of the hill they turned and looked down at Stonewall, and all the looming candles and oil lamps shone through the windows, alluring in their warm yellow light ;the light above that came from countless stars, brilliant and sparkling, distant and cold, more numerous than imagined. Tristan reached out and took Victoria's little hand in his.She didn't break free. Did you see that?Victoria stared into the distance and asked. I didn't see anything, Tristan said, I was just looking at you. Victoria smiled in the moonlight. You are the cutest woman in the world.Tristan said from the bottom of his heart. Go to hell.Victoria said, but her tone was gentle. what did you seeTristan asked. Shooting stars, said Victoria, I believe shooting stars are quite common at this time of year. Vicky, Tristan said, would you kiss me? not good.she says. You kissed me when we were kids.On your fifteenth birthday, you kissed me under the oak of promise.You kissed me too last May 1st, behind your father's cowshed. I was someone else then, she said, and I shouldn't have kissed you, Tristan. If you don't kiss me, Tristan demanded, will you marry me? It was very quiet on the slopes, except for the rustling of the October wind.Then there was a jingle: the happy laughter of the most beautiful girl in all the British Isles. marry you?She repeated incredulously, why should I marry you, Tristan?what can you give me? to you?He said, Victoria, I will go to India for you and bring back ivory, pearls as big as your thumb, and rubies as big as wren eggs. I will go to Africa and bring you back a diamond the size of a cricket ball.I will find the source of the Nile and name it after you. I will go to America, go straight to the gold mines in San Francisco, and find gold as heavy as yours before returning.Then I will bring the gold back here and lay it under your feet. If you just ask, I will travel to the far north, kill fierce polar bears, and bring them back to you. Before you get to the part about killing the polar bear, Victoria said, I think you've done a pretty good job.Even so, I will not kiss you, little clerk and farmer, nor will I marry you. Tristan's eyes gleamed in the moonlight.I will go to distant China for you, and bring back to you a Chinese galleon full of emeralds, silk and opium from the hands of the pirate chiefs. I'll go to Australia at the bottom of the world, said Tristan, bringing you um.He tried to recall the penny thrillers he had read, and tried to recall whether any of the heroes had ever visited Australia.Kangaroos, he said, and opals.he added.He was pretty sure about opals. Victoria squeezed his hand.What do I need a kangaroo for?Now, she asks, we'd better go our separate ways, or my parents will wonder what I'm delaying and come to some completely wrong conclusions.Because I didn't kiss you at all, Tristan. Kiss me, he begged, I would do anything for your kiss.I am willing to climb any mountain, cross any river, and cross any desert. He gestured broadly, pointing at Stonewall below and at the night sky above.In the constellation of Orion, hanging low on the eastern horizon, a star suddenly flashed down. For your kiss and the vow of holding hands for a lifetime, Tristan exaggerated, I will bring that meteor back to you. He shivered.His coat was thin, and he was baffled by the fact that he apparently couldn't get kisses from Victoria.Those penny-fiction heroes never had that much trouble getting kisses. Here, go ahead.Victoria said, if you can do it, I will. What?Tristan asked. If you bring me back that star, said Victoria, the one that just fell, and no other star, then I will kiss you.Who knows what else I'll do.Well, now you don't need to go to Australia, and you don't need to go to Africa or China. What?Tristan asked. Victoria smiled at him, withdrew her hand, and began to walk down the hill to her father's farm. Tristan ran after her.Are you serious?he asks. I'm as serious as your ruby, gold, opium rhetoric.She replied, what is opium? Something in cough drops, Tristan said, like eucalyptus. Doesn't sound particularly romantic.Victoria said, anyway, shouldn't you run after my shooting star?It fell to the east, over there.Then she laughed again.Stupid little clerk.You can only make sure we have the ingredients for rice pudding. So what if I bring the shooting star back to you?Tristan asked softly, what are you going to give me?a kiss?Or give me your hand at the wedding? anything you crave.Victoria said happily. you swear?Tristan asked. They were now less than a hundred yards from the Forresters' farmhouse, and the yellow-orange light of oil lamps shone through the windows. certainly.Victoria said with a smile. The trail leading to the Forresters' farm was muddy, with horses, cattle, sheep, and dogs leaving muddy footprints in the wet, soft ground.Tristan dropped to his knees in the mud, not paying attention to his coat or woolen trousers.follow orders.He said. At that time, a gust of wind blew from the east. I am here to bid you farewell, madam.Tristan said, because I have an urgent mission, I must go to the East.He stood up, ignoring the mud and wet soil on his knees and coat, bowed to Victoria, and raised his top hat in greeting. Victoria laughed at the skinny little clerk, for so long, so loudly, so happily, and her crisp laugh followed Tristan back up the hill and away. ★ Tristan ran all the way home.Blackberries tangled in his clothes as he ran, and a branch knocked his hat off his head. He staggered, panting, into the kitchen of the farmhouse at Westwood Ranch. look at you!His mother said, indeed!I have never seen it! Tristan just smiled at her. Tristan?his father asked.Denstein was thirty-five, still of medium build and freckled, though his nut-colored brown curls already contained strands of silver.Your mother is talking to you.Didn't you hear? I'm sorry, Father, Mother, said Tristan, but I'm leaving town tonight.I may be away for a while. boring!Nonsense!Daisy.Song En said, I have never heard such nonsense. Denstein noticed the look in his son's eyes.I'm here to talk to him.he said to his wife.Daisy looked at him sharply and nodded.Yes, she said, but who's going to mend the boy's coat?I really want to know.She left the kitchen in a hurry. The kitchen fire hissed silver and faint greens and purples.where are you going?asked Denstein. East.said his son. East.His father nodded.There are two kinds of east: through the forest, the counties to the east; and east, which refers to the other side of the stone wall.Denstein knew which one his son was referring to without having to ask. will you come backhis father asked again. Tristan grinned widely.of course.He said. Oh, said his father, that's all right.He scratches his nose.Have you thought of any way to get through the stone wall? Tristan shook his head.I'm sure I can find a way, he said, and if necessary, I'll fight the guards and go over. His father sniffed.You can't fight, he said, how would you feel if you or I were on duty?I don't want to see anyone get hurt.He scratched his nose again.Go unpack, kiss your mother good-bye, and I'll walk you to town. Tristan packed a sack of luggage into which his mother had given him six red, ripe apples, a large loaf of peasant bread, and a round cottage cheese.Mrs. Song didn't want to look at Tristan.Tristan kissed his mother good-bye on the cheek, and walked toward town with his father. Tristan first served as a Stonewall guard at the age of sixteen.He had only one instruction: the task of the guards was to prevent, by all means possible, anyone who tried to get outside the stone wall from the town.If it cannot be stopped, the guard must seek the assistance of the town. As they walked, he wondered what his father was thinking.Maybe the two of them together can beat the guards.Maybe his father will distract the guards and let him slip past maybe They made their way through the town to the Stonewall gate, and Tristan had imagined every possibility, just the one that hadn't actually happened. On duty that night was Harold.Mr. Crochet Baker and Mr. Pommus.Harold was the miller's son, a tall, sturdy young man, a few years older than Tristan.Mr. Beaumius still had black curly hair and green eyes, an honest smile, and smelled of grapes, grape juice, barley, and beer. Denstein walked up to Mr. Pommus and stood before him.He stomped away the night chill. Good night, Mr. Bomius.Good night, Harold.Denstein said. Good night, Mr. Song En.Harold said. Good night, Denstein, said Mr. Pommus, and I hope you will be safe. Denstein admitted that he was indeed all right; and then they spoke of the weather, and they all agreed that it was not good for the farmers, and that it was plain to see from the number of holly and yew berries that this winter was going to be cold and hard. Listening to their conversation, Tristan was ready to burst into anger and frustration, but he tried to control himself and said nothing. Finally, his father said: Mr. Bomius, Harold, I believe you all know my son Tristan?Tristan raised his bowler hat nervously in greeting. Then his father said something he didn't understand. I guess you all know where he comes from.Denstein said. Mr. Bomius nodded, but said nothing. Harold said he had heard some rumors, though he couldn't believe half of what he heard. Oh, that's true.Now is the time for him to go back, Denstein said. One star Tristan starts to explain, but his father tells him to keep quiet. Mr. Bomius rubbed his chin, and ran his other hand over his thick black curly hair.OKHe said.He turned and whispered to Harold, Tristan couldn't hear what they were saying. His father shoved something cold into his hand. you go, boy.Go, bring back your star, may God be with you, and all his angels. Then Mr. Pommus and Harold, who were guarding the gate, stepped aside to let him pass. Tristan passed through the gate between the stone walls and into the pasture on the other side of the wall. He turned and looked back at the three men framed in the gate, wondering why they had let him through. He rocked the bag back and forth in one hand, the small object his father had pressed into his hand in the other.He set off up the gentle hill toward the bushes. ★ The further he went, the weaker the night wind became.He walked to the bushes at the top of the knoll and was surprised to see the bright moonlight shining on him through the branches.He was so surprised because the moon had set an hour ago; he was even more surprised that the moon that had just set was like a thin, pointed silver croissant, but now it was a huge golden full moon shining on him, Round and bright, very dark in color. The cool thing in his hand jingled: a crystal jingle, like a bell in a miniature glass cathedral.He opened his hands and held the thing up to the moonlight. It was a snowdrop, all made of glass. A warm wind brushed Tristan's face, and it smelled like mint, blackcurrant leaves, and red, ripe plums.The daunting problems of his own making popped up out of the blue.He wanders into Elven Wonderland, looking for a falling meteor, and has no idea where to start, let alone how to try to keep himself safe and healthy.He looked back and imagined he could see the lights of Stonewall behind him, flickering and faint in the heat and mist, but still inviting. He knew that if he turned back, no one would look down on him for it.His father certainly wouldn't, and his mother wouldn't; even Victoria, the next time she saw him, might not just smile at him, call him a clerk, and say that stars are usually hard to find when they fall. At that point, he paused. He thought of Victoria's lips and gray eyes, and her laughter.Straightening his shoulders, he undid the top buttonhole of his jacket and slipped the crystal snowdrop inside.So, too ignorant to fear, too young to fear, Tristan.Song En stepped out of the familiar realm and entered the fairyland.