Chapter 6 Four

Can I get there by candlelight? * October moved further and further away as Tristan stepped out; he felt as if he had stepped into summer.There was a path through the bushes, with rows of bushes forming a hedge on one side; he followed it.The stars above him shone brightly, and the full moon in mid-autumn shone golden, like ripe corn.In the moonlight he could see briars in the hedge. He started to sleep.For a moment he struggled to stay awake, then he took off his coat, put down his bag (it was a big leather bag, and in twenty years everyone would know it was called a Gladstone bag), rested his head on the bag, and the cover of the coat On the body.

①Editor's Note: Developed from the French carpet bag in the nineteenth century.There is usually a compartment to divide the bag into two parts of the same size, and it is mostly used by lawyers, which is the prototype of a briefcase. He stared intently at the stars; they seemed to him like dancers, majestic and graceful, performing an almost endless dance of complexity.He imagined that he could see the faces of the stars: their white faces, their gentle smiles, as if they had spent so long in the sky, looking down at the scrambling, joyful and miserable people; Little humans can't help but be amused by thinking they are the center of the world (as we all are).

So Tristan fell asleep.He went into the bedroom (which also served as the classroom at Stonewall Elementary), and Mrs Cherry tapped on the blackboard asking them all to be quiet.Tristan looked down at his writing slate, wondering what class he was having, but he couldn't read what he was writing on the slate.Then Mrs. Cherry (who resembled Tristan's mother so much that Tristan was surprised that he never realized they were the same person) asked Tristan to tell the class the birth and death dates of all the kings and queens of England Sorry, a little furry voice rang in his ear, but could you please sleep a little quieter?Your dream has flowed into my dream.If there's one thing I've never done, it's reciting birth and death dates.William the Conqueror, 1066, that's all I know, and I'd rather trade that for a dancing mouse.

Um?Tristan said. Be quiet, the voice said, if you don't mind. sorry.Tristan said that the dream that followed was nothing but darkness. ★ Breakfast, said a voice in his ear, mushrooms fried in butter and wild garlic. Tristan opened his eyes; the sun was streaming through the briar hedge, and the grass was dappled with gold and green.There's something that smells like heaven. Beside him was a tin container. Rough diet, said the voice, means country diet.Not at all what high society is used to, but a good mushroom is valued by people like me. Tristan Bian blinked, fished into the tin bowl, and picked out a big mushroom with his thumb and forefinger.The mushrooms were very hot.He took a careful bite, feeling his mouth full of juice.He had never eaten such a delicious thing, so after he chewed and swallowed the mushroom, he told the truth.

You are so kind.said the little figure sitting on the other side of the small fire.The fire crackled softly, and the smoke rose in the morning air.It's kind of you, I'm sure.But you know, and I know, it's just sautéed wild mushrooms, not a good thing at all Is there any more?Tristan asked, realizing just how hungry you are sometimes a little bit of food can make you feel that way. Hey, what's your attitude.said the little figure.He wore a big floppy hat and a big baggy coat.He said is there any more?As if it were poached quail eggs, smoked gazelle, or truffles, not just mushrooms.Mushrooms tasted more or less like something that had been dead for a week, and even cats wouldn't want to touch it.Attitude.

If it wasn't too much trouble, I really, really want another mushroom.Tristan said. The little man (if he was human; Tristan didn't think he was very human) sighed sadly, reached into the hot pot on the fire, and snapped two large mushrooms into Tristan's chest with a knife. tin bowl. Tristan blew on the mushrooms, picked them up with his fingers and ate them all. look at you.said the short, hairy man, with a mixture of pride and melancholy in his voice, as if he enjoyed eating those mushrooms.As if what's in your mouth isn't sawdust, wormwood, rue, or whatever. Tristan licked his finger, assuring his benefactor that it was the best mushroom he had ever had the pleasure of eating.

You say it now, said your host gloomily, but you won't say it in an hour.Just as a fishwife won't accept her son's opinion of mermaids, others will certainly disagree with you.It may have been heard from Garamon to Stormwind.Such wording!Makes my ears blue, really.The short, hairy man sighed deeply.Speaking of appetite, he said, I'm going over there behind that tree to take care of my stomach.Can you do me a little favor and watch over my luggage over there?I will appreciate it. sure.Tristan said politely. The short, hairy man disappeared behind an oak tree.Tristan heard him mutter something, and then the new friend reappeared and said: Well, I know a man in Pavlagonia who eats a live snake every morning when he gets up.He used to say that one thing he was sure of was that nothing worse than eating a snake would happen to him all day long.Of course, he was forced to eat a whole bowl of hairy centipedes before he was hanged.So maybe there was some truth to what he said.

②Editor's note: The name of the ancient country, located in today's Turkey. Tristan quit and got up to urinate on the other side of the oak tree.Next to it is a small pile of feces, definitely not of human origin.It looks more like deer poop, or rabbit poop. My name is Tristan.song en.Tristan said when he came back.The partner who shared breakfast with him was packing up the tools for breakfast: the fire, the pot, and everything disappeared into his luggage one by one. He took off his hat, pressed it to his chest, and looked up at Tristan.May magic protect you.He said.He tapped the side of the duffel bag, and it read: PROTECTED BY MAGIC, FASCINATED, HAZARDED, MESSAGE.I used to be a mess, he confides in Tristan, but you know what it's all about.

So he walked down the path, Tristan walking behind him.Hey!I say!cried Tristan, could you please slow down?Despite the enormous duffel bag (reminds Tristan of The Pilgrim's Progress), Mrs. Cherry reads the book to everyone every Monday morning. She tells everyone that although the book is a bad Written, but a good book), the little man (whose name is May Magic Protect You?) was off as fast as a squirrel climbed a tree. ③Annotation: "The Pilgrim's Progress" (The Pilgrim's Progress), authored by John.John Bunyan. The little guy hurried back.Is there something wrong?he asks.

I can't keep up with you, Tristan admitted, you're going too fast. The short, hairy man slowed down.Please forgive me.He said.Tristan staggered after him.I was by myself too often and used to go at my own pace. They walked side by side in the golden-green sunlight piercing the fresh green.Tristan noticed the quality of the light that was unique to spring, and wondered if they were leaving summer as far behind as October.Now and then Tristan caught a flash of color in a tree or bush, and the little hairy man would say something like a fish dog.They used to be called Mr. Helsing.Pretty Bird or Purple Hummingbird.Drink the nectar of flowers.Hovering bird or red-fronted goldfinch.They'll keep their distance, but you'd better not watch them carefully, and don't make trouble, because the trouble is with those annoying people or something.

They sat by the creek and ate their lunch.Tristan brought out the cottage bread his mother had given him, ripe red apples, and round cheeses that were hard, sour, and crumbly.Although the little man looked at the food suspiciously, he still gobbled it up, licked the cheese and crumbs off his fingers, and chewed the apple loudly with relish.After eating, he drew a pot of water from the stream and boiled it for tea. You want to tell me, what are you doing?They sat on the ground drinking tea, the little hairy man asked. Tristan thought for a while before he said, "I'm from Stonewall, where there lives a young lady named Victoria.Forrester, there is no woman like her.I just gave her my heart, and her alone.her face is Do you have everything you need?The little guy asked, eyes?nose?teeth?Are they all the same as ordinary people? of course. That being the case, you can skip this point.said the little hairy man, let's take it for granted.So, what the hell is this young lady asking you to do? Tristan put down his wooden teacup and stood up angrily. how?Tristan asked with what he thought was arrogance and contempt, what made you think my lover would send me on stupid errands? The little man looked up at him intently with jet-jade bead-like eyes.Because that's the only reason that would make a lad like you stupid enough to cross the border of Fairyland.Only bards, lovers and madmen come here from your lands.You don't look much like a bard, and you boy, forgive me for saying this, but it's the truth.You are as ordinary as cheese shavings.So if you ask me, it's love. Because, Tristan reveals, every lover has a madman in his heart and a bard in his head. Really?The little man spoke suspiciously.I never noticed.So there was a young lady.Did she send you here on a treasure hunt?This set was very popular in the past.You'll see a lot of young woodcutters wandering around looking for a hoard of gold that poor dragons or ogres have spent centuries amassing. No.Not a treasure hunt, but a promise I made to the lady I just mentioned.We were talking and I was promising her something, and then we saw a shooting star and I promised to bring it back to her.It fell on a mountain where he waved his arm roughly in the direction of the sunrise: there. The short, hairy man scratched his chin or his muzzle as long as a horse or a dog.That was most likely his muzzle.do you know what i will do have no idea.Tristan said, with a glimmer of hope in his chest, what? The little man wiped his nose.I'll tell her to stick her face in a pigsty and go out and find another guy who'll kiss you without asking you for the whole world.Guaranteed you will find it.If you throw half a brick back to your hometown, it is impossible not to hit someone. There are no other girls there.Tristan said confidently. The little man snorted.They packed up and hit the road together. Are you serious?said the little man, about the meteor? yes.Tristan said. Well, if I were you, I would never mention it.Some people, the little man said, took a morbid interest in the news.It's best to keep silent, but never lie. So what should I say? Oh he said, for example, if someone asks where you're from, you can say from the back; if they ask where you're going, you can say to the front. I understand.Tristan said. The paths they followed became increasingly blurred.A gust of cold wind ruffled Tristan's hair, and he shivered.The path took them into a grove of slender, pale gray birches. Do you think it will be far?Tristan asked, to the stars? How far is it to Babylon?The little man asked knowingly, the last time I passed by, there was no such tree here.he added. How far is it to Babylon?They walked through the gray wood, Tristan recounted to himself. ∮ Three twenty plus ten. Can I get there by candlelight? I can, and I can come back. Yes, if your steps are light and quick, You can get there by candlelight. ★ This is it.said the short, hairy man, turning his head from side to side searching for something, and seemed absorbed or a little nervous. It's just a nursery rhyme.Tristan said. Just nursery rhymes?God!There are people on the other side of the stone wall who will toil seven years for that little spell.Anyway, back in your hometown, you guys didn't think much of anything, just muttered shake and shake, little baby or rub rub and rub spells around the little baby, do you get cold, lad? Yes, now that you mention it, I feel a little cold. you look around.can you see the trail Tristan narrowed his eyes.Ash woods suck out light, color, distance.He had thought they were following the path, but now that he tried to see it, it shimmered and disappeared like an optical illusion.He had marked the path with that tree, and that tree and that rock, but there was no path at all, just dark, twilight, and gray trees.Now we are under siege.the hairy man whispered. Should we run?Tristan took off his silk top hat and held it in front of him. The little man shook his head.It's no use, he said, we've stepped into a trap, and even if we run, we're still in a trap. He walked to the nearest tree, a tall, gray, birch-like trunk.He kicked hard.Some dead leaves fell, and with a dry rustle, something white rolled from the branches to the ground. The little man shuddered.I can defend, he told Tristan, but instead of defending, we'd better get out of here. From the point of view of that thing, we can't fly without wings.He tapped the wreckage with his clawed feet.And you guys will never learn to dig a hole in the ground doesn't mean it's of any use to us Maybe we can arm ourselves.Tristan said. Arm yourself? Before they come. Before they come?They're here anyway, you big pig.These are the trees.We are in the scorched woods. Scorched woods? It's all my fault I should have paid more attention to our direction.Now you'll never get your star and I'll never get mine.Some day some poor beggar lost in these woods will find our bones, chewed as clean as a clarinet.That's the way it is. Tristan stared at the little man.Although he didn't see anything move, the trees seemed to be gathering more densely in the shadows.He wondered whether the little man was stupid or just imaginative. Something stabbed his left hand.He patted hard, expecting to see a bug, but when he looked down, it was a faded yellow leaf.The yellow leaves rustled and fell to the ground.A wet, red stream of blood spurted from the back of his hand.The woods whispered about them. Is there anything we can do about it?Tristan asked. I can't think of anything.If only we knew where the real trails are. Not even the scorched woods can erase the real trails.Only to hide from our eyes, luring us away from the little man shrugged and sighed again. Tristan raised his hand and rubbed his forehead, and said: I really know where the path is, he pointed in a direction, and went along there. The eyes of the little man's jet beads gleamed.are you sure? sure sir.Go through the undergrowth and go up a little to the right.The trails are there. how do you know?the man asked. I just know it.Tristan replied. good.bring it on!So the little man picked up his load and ran, slowing for Tristan to follow.Tristan's leather pouch slammed against his legs, his heart pounding, and he ran out of breath. wrong!Not over there.Come to the left!cried Tristan.Branches and thorns tore and tore his clothes.They continued to run in silence. The trees seem to line themselves up into a wall.Leaves rained down around them, stinging Tristan's skin, cutting and tearing his clothes.He toiled up the knoll, pounding leaves with his free hand, thumping twigs and larger branches with his duffel bag. The silence was broken by a howl.It was the little hairy man.He stood motionless, his head thrown back, and began to howl to the sky. Come on, we're almost there.As Tristan said, he reached out his big hand, squeezed the little hairy man's free hand, and pulled him forward. Then they were standing on the real path: a strip of green turf cutting through the gray woods.Are we safe here?asked Tristan, out of breath, looking around worriedly. We're safe as long as we stay on the trail.said the short, hairy man, and set down his heavy luggage, sat on the grass in the path, and stared at the surrounding trees. Although there was no wind blowing, the gray trees shook, and it seemed to Tristan that they were trembling with anger. His partner began to shiver, scratching the green turf with his hairy fingers, then looked up at Tristan.I suppose you don't have something like that on you, like a refreshing drink?Or a pot of sweet hot tea? No, Tristan said, probably not at all. The little man sniffed and fumbled for the lock on the bulky luggage.Turning around, he said to Tristan, don't peek. Tristan turned away. There's a rummaging and sniffing sound, the click of a lock, and a turn around if you like.The little man was holding an enameled bottle.He tried hard to pull out the cork, but the cork didn't budge. Um.Do you want me to help you with that?Tristan hoped his request would not offend the little hairy man.But he was overthinking; his companion forced the bottle into his hand. Here, take it, he said, only your hands can do it. Tristan tugged hard and pulled the cork out of the bottle.He smelled something intoxicating, like honey mixed with cloves and wood smoke.He returned the bottle to the little man. It would be a sin to drink something so rare and delicious as poured from this bottle.said the short, hairy man.He untied the small wooden cup from his belt, and tremblingly poured a little amber liquid into it.He sniffed, took a sip, and smiled, showing small, sharp teeth. Ah ah ah.much better. He handed the cup to Tristan. Sipping slowly, he said, the bottle was worth a king's ransom.It cost me two big blue and white diamonds, a singing mechanical blue bird and a dragon scale. Tristan took a sip.The drink warmed his toes and made him feel like his head was full of little bubbles. very good huh? Tristan nodded. Too good for people like you and me, I'm afraid.That's what it says.When in trouble, it is really a good thing to eliminate unpleasantness.Let's get out of the woods, said the little hairy man.Which side to go, huh? there.Tristan said, pointing to the left. The little man capped the bottle, put it in his pocket, and carried the luggage on his shoulders, and together they followed the green path through the gray woods. After a few hours the white trees began to thin, and they passed through the scorched wood, along the high embankment, between two low walls of cobblestone.Tristan looked back the way he had come, but there were no trees; behind them were small hills covered with purple heather. We can stop here.There's something we need to talk about, said Tristan's companion.sit down. He put down his monstrous duffel bag and climbed up to look down at Tristan sitting on the curb.There are some things I don't quite understand.now, tell me.Where are you from? Stonewall, Tristan said, I told you. Who are your father and mother? My father's name is Denstein.song en.My mother is Daisy.song en. Uh-huh.Denstein.Song Eun.I met your father once.He took me overnight.The guy wasn't bad, although he was sleepy at the time and didn't complain much.He scratched his nose and mouth.Still didn't explain that nothing unusual happened in your house? My sister, Louisa, can move her ears. The short, hairy man flicked his big furry ears arrogantly.No, not this.He said.I'm thinking, it's more like you had a grandmother who was a famous witch, or an uncle who was a brilliant magician, or you've got a bit of an elf connection somewhere in your family tree. I do not know then.Tristan admitted. The little man changed the direction of the question.Where is Stonewall Town?he asked.Tristan pointed.Where is the hill of contention?Without hesitation, Tristan pointed again.Where are the Kadafarian Islands?Tristan pointed to the southwest.He didn't know those places at all until the little man mentioned the Hills of Dispute or the Cadafrian Islands, but he was as sure of their locations as he knew where his left foot was or where his nose was on his face. Um.listen.Do you know where the great andromed cow Muskesi is? Tristan shook his head. And do you know where the transparent and glowing castle of the great male cow Muskxi is? Tristan pointed with certainty. What about Paris?The one in France? Tristan thought for a moment.Oh, and if Stonewall is over there, I think Paris is more or less in the same direction, can't be wrong. Let me think about it.The short, hairy man was half talking to himself, half saying to Tristan, you can find places in the fairyland, but you can't find places in your world, only Stonewall Town, that's the dividing line.You can't find anyone But boy, tell me, do you know where the star you're looking for is? Tristan pointed it out immediately.right there.He said. Uh-huh.very good.But that still doesn't explain anything.are you hungry? A little.And my clothes were torn and my skin was scratched.Tristan said, feeling for the large holes in his trousers and coat.As he ran he got caught in branches and thorns, and was scratched by leaves.Also, look at my boots what's in your bag Tristan opened his Gladstone bag.apple.cheese.Half a loaf of cottage bread.A jar of fish sauce.my pencil sharpener.I have a change of underwear and two pairs of wool socks.i guess i should bring more clothes Save the fish sauce.said his traveling companion, and quickly divided the rest of the food into two equal piles. You did a good job, he said, chewing on a crispy apple, and I won't forget that.First we'll take care of your clothes, and then we'll send you off to the stars.Right? You are very kind indeed.Tristan said nervously, peeling off a slice of cheese and putting it on the crust. Well, said the little hairy man, let's find you a blanket. ★ At dawn, the three Lords of Stormcastle rode down the rugged mountain road in a large carriage, drawn by six black horses.The horses were feathered in black, the coaches were painted new black, and every Lord of Stormhold was in mourning. In the case of Bermus, his mourning was a monkish black robe; Shuthys wore the plain mourning clothes of a merchant, and young Mus in a black waistcoat and knee-length trousers, and a black hat with a black feather , exactly like the stupid assassins in second- and third-rate Elizabethan historical dramas. The three Lords of Stormwind looked at each other, one wary, one defensive, one indifferent.They did not speak; Shuthys and Bermus might have formed an alliance against Young Moose, but they could not form an alliance at all. The carriage rattled and swayed. The carriage stopped once so that the three lords could have a rest, and then rattled down the rolling mountain road again.Together the three Lords of Stormwind lowered their father's body into the Jongmyo.Their dead brothers watched them from various gates of the Jongmyo but said nothing. In the evening, the coachman shouted: Notaway!Then the carriage was parked outside a dilapidated hotel next to what looked like a giant's farmhouse. The three Lords of Stormwind got out of the carriage, stretching their cramped legs.Several faces stared at them through the hotel's dark green glass windows. The owner of the hotel is a wizened old man with a bad temper and a bad temper.He looked out the door.We need dry beds and a pot of mutton stew on the fire.he cried. How many beds to heat?The cleaning lady Letitia asked in the stairwell. Three, said the skinny old man, and I'll bet they'll make the coachman sleep with the horse. Is it really three?The cook Tilly said softly to the hotel groom Lacey that anyone could see that there were a total of seven elegant gentlemen standing in the middle of the road. However, when people walked in, there were only three Lords of Stormhold.They went on to say that the coachman would sleep in the stall. Dinner was lamb stew and hot, fresh bread that gave off a puff of steam when broken.Each lord drank an unopened bottle of fine Balagón (for each would not share a bottle with his brother, or even pour it into a glass).This made the thin old man quite indignant, and his opinion (though not overheard by his guest) was that the wine should be allowed to breathe. The coachman ate the stew in his own bowl, drank two jugs of ale, and went to sleep in the barn.The three brothers entered the room separately and bolted the door. When the cleaning lady Letitia brought a bed warmer to Shutis, Shutis slipped her a silver coin.So he was not at all surprised when there was a soft knock on the door not long before midnight. Letitia, wearing a one-piece white toga, bowed to him when he opened the door, smiling shyly.She holds a bottle of wine in her hand. Shutis locked the door behind him and led her to the bed.First make her take off her toga, examine her face and body by candlelight, and then kiss her forehead, lips, nipples, navel, and toes.Then he put out the candle and made love to her in the pale moonlight without saying a word. After a while, he hummed and then stood still. Oh, my dear, it was very good just now, wasn't it?Letitia asked. good.Shutis spoke carefully, as if there was some trap in what she said.is good. Do you want to come back again before I leave? Shutis pointed between his legs as an answer.Letitia giggled: We can make it stand tall in the blink of an eye.She uncorked the bottle, put it beside the bed, and handed the wine to Shutis. Shutis grinned at her, gulped down some wine, and pulled her towards him. I bet that feels good.she said to Shutis.Okay honey, let me show you the way I like it this time What's wrong?what happened?Lord Shutis of Stormwind rolled back and forth on the bed in agony, his eyes wide and his breathing labored. that bottle of wine?He gasped, where did you get that? Your brother, said Letitia, I met him on the stairs.He told me it was a good stimulant and tonic and would give us a night we will never forget. That's it.Shutis gasped, twitched once, twice, three times, and then went stiff.And very quiet. Shutis heard Letitia start screaming, as if from a long, long distance.He noticed four familiar ghosts standing with him in the shadows by the wall. she is very beautiful.Jondoons whispered that Letitia thought she heard the rustle of the curtains. Young Moose is the most cunning.Wouters said he did exactly the same thing as sneaking poisonous berries into my plate of eels.Letitia thought it was the wind blowing down from the cliffs on the mountain. She opens the door to the entire hotel, people are awakened by her screams, and a search ensues.But Lord Young Moose was gone, and the stable (the coachman was snoring, and could not be woken) was missing a black stallion. When Lord Bermuth woke up the next morning, he was in a terrible mood. He declares that Letitia, like Shutis, is a victim of the cunning of the Young Moose; he does not intend to execute Letitia, but orders her to accompany Shutis' body back to Stormwind Castle. The lord left her a black horse to carry the body, and a small bag of silver coins, enough to take a Nottaway villager to travel with her (to make sure no wolf would steal the horse or his brother's remains) and when the coachman finally woke up Finally, pay his wages and send him away. So, alone in a large carriage, drawn by four charcoal-black stallions, Lord Bermuth left Nottaway with a decidedly worse temper than he had arrived at. ★ Bomisi pulled the rope hard and reached the crossroads.A bearded, horned, evil-eyed billy goat was tied to a rope, and Bomis was going to take it to market and sell it. At the dinner table that morning, Bomis' mother put a carrot in front of him and said to him: Bomis, son.This radish was the only thing I was able to get out of the ground today.All our crops are not grown and our food is gone.Nothing to sell but the billy goat.So I want you to catch this goat and bring it to the market to sell to the farmer.Listen, you can't pay less than a florin for goats for a hen, and corn and turnips; maybe we won't starve. ④ Annotation: Florin (Florin) is the value of the old British currency, worth two shillings. So Bomisi chewed the radish carefully, the radish was like wood, and it irritated his tongue acrimoniously.He then spent the morning chasing the goat in the sheep pen, enduring bruises on the ribs and bite marks on the thigh, and finally, with the help of a passing tinker, subdued the goat enough to put on the bridle.He left his mother to help the tinker bandage the goat's wound and drag the he-goat by force to the market. Sometimes the goat would suddenly try to take the lead, and Bermis would drag from behind, the heels of his boots creaking in the dry mud of the road, until the goat decided again (suddenly and without warning, Bermis) Mies has no way of noticing) to stop.Bomis would get up off the ground and go back and pull the beast. He came to the crossroads by the woods, sweating, hungry, bruised and bloody, pulling the goat that refused to cooperate.At the intersection stood a tall woman with a crimson hat with a silver hoop covering her dark hair, and her dress was as scarlet as her lips. what's your name, lad?she asked, her voice like musky brown honey. Everyone calls me Berry Miss, ma'am.As Bomisi said, she noticed something strange behind the woman.It was a buggy, but no livestock was harnessed between the bars.He couldn't figure out how the car got here. Burmese, she muttered lowly, what a good name.Will you sell me that goat, Burmese boy? Bermis hesitated for a moment.My mother told me to take the goat to the market, he said, and sell it to buy a hen, some corn, and turnips, and take the change back to her. How much did your mother tell you the goat would sell for?asked the woman in the scarlet robe. Cannot be less than one florin.He said. The woman smiled and held up a hand, and something glowed yellow.Well, I'll give you this ginguini⑤, enough to buy you a whole coop of hens and a hundred bushels⑥ of turnips. ⑤ Annotation: Guinea is an old British gold coin, worth twenty-one shillings, originally issued for trade with Africa. ⑥Annotation: Bushel (Bushel) is a British unit of measurement for grain, fruit, liquid, etc., equal to eight gallons or thirty-six.Four liters. The boy's mouth opened wide. Have we made a deal? The boy nodded and reached forward, holding the rope that tied the ram's bridle.take it.He could only say so far, and the visions rolling through his mind were infinite wealth and countless turnips. The woman takes the rope.Then touch the goat's forehead with one finger, between the yellow eyes, and let go of the rope. Burmis guessed that the ram would flee into the woods, or some other way, but it stood still, as if frozen.Bomi Si stretched out her hand to accept Jin Jini. The woman looked at him, from his muddy feet to his short, sweaty hair, and smiled again. You know, she said, I think a matching pair is more impressive than just one, don't you think? Miss Bomi didn't understand what she was talking about, so she opened her mouth to speak clearly.But just then, the woman stretched out a long finger and touched the bridge of his nose, just between his eyes, and he found himself speechless. She snapped her fingers, and Burmis and the ram were harnessed between the front bars of her buggy; Burmis noticed with a start that she was walking on all fours, and seemed not much taller than the animals around her. The Witch cracked her whip, and her buggy, pulled by a pair of matching horned white rams, jolted down the dirt road. ★ The short, hairy man left Tristan covered only in a blanket, and walked into the small village with his tattered coat, trousers, and vest.The little village was situated in a valley between three small hills covered with heather. Tristan sat wrapped in a blanket in the warm night, waiting. Lights flickered in the hawthorn bushes behind him.He guessed it might be fireflies or some fireflies, but upon closer inspection, he realized that they were little people, shining with light, flitting briskly from branch to branch. He coughed politely, and twenty small eyes stared down at him.Several of the critters disappeared, and others hid in the hawthorn bushes.A few more courageous ones flew towards him with fluttering wings. One of the villains sang: ∮ Hanky ​​Punch The boy wrapped in a blanket, he set out to be courteous looking for a star ∮ no doubt Journey Through Fairyland Removed the blanket, Then you will know who you are. ★ Another sang: ∮ Tristan.song en Tristan.song en I don't know why I was born make a foolish oath Trousers jacket shirt are torn So he sits here helpless About to face the mockery of true love Westin Bistein Tristan song en ★ Get the hell out of here, you idiots.Tristan said.His face was hot, and with nothing to lose, he threw his silk top hat at them. So when the little hairy man came back from the village of Revelry (named so the world cannot explain, for it was a melancholy, dark place, long forgotten), he found Tristan morose, sitting by the hawthorn bush, Wrapped in a blanket, grieved over losing his hat. They said some cruel things about my true love.Tristan said, Victoria.Miss Forrester.How dare they? These little people dare anything, said his friend, and they talk a lot of nonsense.However, what they said was also very interesting.你處在險境的時候聽從他們，你遇到危險的時候也要忽視他們。 他們說我很快就會面對真愛的嘲弄。 Really?他們這麼說？矮小多毛的男人把許多不同的衣服攤在草地上。即使在月光下，崔斯坦也看得出他擺放的服飾和自己今天稍早脫下的衣服，完全不一樣。 在石牆鎮，男人都穿棕色、灰色、黑色，就算是臉色最紅潤的農夫頸上最鮮紅的領巾，也會很快在日曬雨淋下褪色，變成比較文雅的色澤。崔斯坦看著那些深紅、鮮黃、黃褐色的布料，做成的衣服比較像巡迴表演者的裝束，或是表妹瓊安家家酒箱子裡的東西。他問道：我的衣服呢？ 現在這些就是你的衣服了。矮小多毛的男人驕傲地說，我拿衣服去換來的。這些東西的質地比較好你看，不會那麼容易撕開或割裂；而且不破不爛。另一方面，你不會那麼顯眼，像外地人似的。這是這一帶的人穿的衣服，你知道吧。 崔斯坦本打算像從學校課本裡跑出來的未開化野蠻人，裹著毛毯繼續尋找星星。但他嘆了一口氣，脫下靴子，讓毛毯滑落到草地上，矮小多毛的男人擔任他的指導員（不對，不對，老弟，那些要穿在那上面。天啊，他們現在都怎麼教小孩的？），很快穿好了漂亮的新衣服。 新靴子比他的舊鞋還要合腳。 這些的確是很好的新衣服。當衣服無法像俗話說的那樣塑造好人，而漂亮的羽毛也無法塑造好的鳥兒時⑦，他們還是可以在配方裡添加一些香料。穿著深紅和鮮黃的崔斯坦．宋恩，跟穿著大衣和禮拜日西裝的崔斯坦．宋恩完全不同。他昂首闊步，動作瀟灑，從前根本不是這樣的。他的下巴擡高而不再下垂。他還戴著絲質禮帽時，眼睛裡也不曾閃現這樣的光芒。 ⑦譯注：出自喬治．華盞模（George Washington）於一七八三年寫的文章。 吃著矮小多毛的男人從狂歡村帶回來的餐點（包括煙燻鱒魚、一碗新鮮的去殼豌豆、好幾個葡萄乾小蛋糕和一小瓶啤酒），崔斯坦已經對自己的新衣著感到相當自在了。 喂，聽著，矮小多毛的男人說，老弟，還在焦枯樹林裡的時候，你救了我的命。還有你父親，在你出生前他曾對我有恩，再也別讓人說我是不知圖報的傢伙了崔斯坦開始小聲嘟噥些他的朋友已經幫了他太多的話，但矮小多毛的男人故意不理他，繼續說下去。所以我仔細考慮過了。你知道你的星星在哪裡，沒錯吧？ 崔斯坦毫不猶豫，對著黑暗的地平線一指。 嗯，聽好，到你的星星有多遠？do you know? 到目前為止，崔斯坦從來沒想過這件事，但他聽見自己說：以男人步行的速度，穿越變化莫測的高山和熾熱的沙漠，中間只停下來睡覺，在他抵達那顆星墜落的地方之前，月亮會在他頭頂上變圓又變小六次。 這完全不像他會說的那種話，他驚訝地眨眼。 Just as I thought.矮小多毛的男人說道，一面靠近自己的重擔，彎腰伏在上面，崔斯坦才看不到他怎麼開鎖。而且看起來你不是唯一在找那顆星星的人。你記得我以前告訴你的話嗎？ 要挖洞把我的糞便埋起來嗎？ Not that. 還是不要說出我的真名字，也不可以說出我的目的地？ Nor is it. What the hell is that? 到巴比倫有多少哩？男人吟誦道。 Oh, yes.that. 我能藉著燭光到那裡嗎？去了又回來。重點在蠟燭，知道吧。大部分的蠟燭都沒辦法。我費了很多力氣才找到這個。他抽出一根海棠果大小的蠟燭尾，交給崔斯坦。 崔斯坦看不出這蠟燭尾有什麼不凡之處。那是蠟製的燭火，不是用獸脂做的，多次使用後早就熔化得差不多了。燭芯呈黑色，已經燒焦。 我要拿它做什麼？he asked. 時機到了都會有用。矮小多毛的男人說，又從行李拿出另一樣東西來。這個也拿去。你會需要的。 那東西在月光下閃閃發亮。崔斯坦接了過來；矮小男人的禮物似乎是一條細細的銀鎖鍊，兩邊各有一個環，摸起來冰涼又滑溜。What's this? 平常的東西。貓的鼻息、魚鱗，還有磨坊水池上的月光，由擅長做金屬小工藝品的侏儒熔化、鍛鍊再塑造成形。你會需要它幫你把星星帶回來。 can you? 喔，會的。 崔斯坦讓鎖鍊落入掌心；觸感像水銀一樣。我要收在哪兒？這些不像話的衣服一個口袋也沒有。 纏繞在手腕上，一直到你需要用到為止。like that.right.倒是你的緊身短外衣裡有個口袋，在那下面，看到了嗎？ 崔斯坦找到了暗袋。暗袋上有個小小的鈕釦洞，他把玻璃雪花蓮插在裡頭，那是他離開石牆鎮的時候，父親給他當作幸運符的。他想不出雪花蓮是不是真的給他帶來運氣。如果有，究竟是好運還是噩運？ 崔斯坦站了起來。他把皮袋子緊緊握在手裡。 聽好，矮小多毛的男人說，你要做的事情是，用你的右手舉起蠟燭；我會幫你點燃。然後，走向你的星星。你要用這條鎖鍊把它帶回來這裡。燭芯剩下不多了，所以你最好打起精神，走得輕快一點。浪費一點時間都會叫你後悔。腳要輕盈靈敏，對吧？ 我我想是吧，對。Tristan said. 他滿懷期待地站著。矮小多毛的男人把一隻手伸到蠟燭上，點燃一朵上黃下藍的火苗。一陣強風吹過，但火苗動也不動，連最輕微的一閃都沒有。 崔斯坦把蠟燭拿在手裡，開始往前走。燭光照亮了世界：每一棵樹和灌木和小草的葉片。 崔斯坦邁出下一步，便已站在一座湖邊，燭光照亮了水面；然後他穿過群山、穿過人跡罕至的巉崖，燭光反射了大雪中那些小生物的眼睛；接著他走過雲層，儘管白雲並非全然堅固，卻仍足以舒適地支撐他的體重；接下來，他已經身在地底，緊緊握著蠟燭，燭光從潮濕的地窟牆面反射到他臉上；現在他再次走在群山間，接著又在穿越荒野森林的小路上，瞥見兩頭山羊拉著一輛輕便馬車，由一個身穿紅長袍的女人駕駛。從他一瞥而得的印象，那女人看起來好像歷史課本裡畫的包迪西亞⑧；另一步踏出去後，他身在茂密的峽谷裡，聽得見水飛濺入小溪時發出的嗤嗤聲。 ⑧譯注：包迪西亞（Boadicea）為古代塞爾特女王，曾領兵反抗羅馬人。 他又踏出一步，但他還是在峽谷裡。那裡長滿高大的蕨類植物、榆樹、毛地黃，月亮高掛在天空。他舉起蠟燭尋找墜落的流星，或許是一顆石頭，或許是寶石，但他什麼也沒看到。 不過，他聽到某個聲音，被嘩啦啦的溪流聲蓋住了：鼻子吸氣的聲音，然後是一聲抽噎。是有人忍住不哭的聲音。 Hello?Tristan said. 吸鼻子的聲音突然停了。但崔斯坦很確定自己看得見榛樹下方有一道光芒，於是他朝著光走過去。 請問他說，一面希望能使坐在榛樹下的那個人平靜下來，一面祈禱那不要又是個偷帽子的小人。我在找一顆星星。 代替回答的是一塊從樹下丟來的濕泥土，正中崔斯坦的側臉。他感到有點刺痛，碎土塊從領子上流下，流進衣服裡。 I will not hurt you.he said aloud. 這次，當另一個土塊朝他猛烈飛來，他往旁邊一閃，土塊嘩地一聲打在他身後的橡樹上。He went on. go away.一個彷彿剛剛才哭過的聲音，生硬地壓抑著怒氣，給我走開，讓我自己靜一靜。 女子的手腳不雅地伸開，半躺臥在榛樹下，帶著十足敵意，蹙額朝上盯著崔斯坦。她作勢威脅，朝崔斯坦舉起另一塊泥，但沒有丟出來。 她的雙眼又紅又腫，髮色淡得近似白色；燭光下，藍色的絲質衣裳微微發亮。她坐在那裡，身上光芒閃爍。請不要再拿泥巴丟我了。崔斯坦請求道，妳看，我沒有要打擾妳的意思。只是有顆星星掉在這附近，我得在蠟燭燒完以前把它帶回去。 我的腿斷了。年輕女子說道。 當然啦，我很難過。Tristan said.可是，那顆星星。 我掉下來的時候，她傷心地告訴崔斯坦，把腿跌斷了。她一面說，一面朝崔斯坦擲出那塊泥巴。她手臂一動，便落下亮晶晶的粉末。 泥巴打中了崔斯坦的胸膛。 go away.她嗚咽著說，把臉埋在圈起來的雙臂中。走開，讓我自己靜一靜。 妳就是星星。崔斯坦說道。他開始理解了。 那你就是豬頭。女孩恨恨地說，而且是笨蛋、傻瓜、蠢貨、白癡！ 對，崔斯坦說，我猜我就是。他邊說邊解下銀鎖鍊的一端，套在女孩纖細的手腕上。他感到鎖鍊上套著自己的環被扯緊了。 她悲苦地朝上凝視著崔斯坦。怎麼，她問道，聲音突然遠遠超過冒犯，也遠遠超過憎惡，你以為你在幹嘛？ 帶妳跟我回家。崔斯坦說，我發了一個誓。 剎時，殘餘的蠟燭劇烈地淌下燭淚，最後一點點燭芯漂在一池蠟裡。蠟燭的火苗閃閃燃燒片刻，照亮了峽谷和女孩，也照亮了鎖鍊。鎖鍊堅不可破，從她的手腕連結到崔斯坦的手腕。 然後蠟燭熄滅了。 崔斯坦凝視著星星這個女孩，然後，全力控制自己一句話也不說。 我能藉著燭光到那裡嗎？he thought.去了又回來。但是燭光已經熄滅，而石牆鎮離這裡，要花六個月的艱苦旅程。 我只想讓你知道，這女孩冷淡地說，無論你是誰，或者你想對我做什麼，我絕不會給你任何形式的幫忙，也不會協助你。而且我會盡一切力量，阻撓你的計畫和願望。她接著又激動地加了一句：白癡。 嗯，崔斯坦說，妳能走嗎？ 不能，她說，我的腿斷了。難道你又聾又笨嗎？ 妳的同類會睡覺嗎？他問女孩。 certainly.不過不在晚上。晚上我們發光。 好吧，他說，我要設法睡一下。我想不出還有什麼事好做。今天發生的每一件事情都好辛苦。或許妳也該想辦法睡一覺。我們有好長一段路要走呢。 天空漸漸亮了起來。峽谷裡，崔斯坦把頭枕在自己的皮袋上，盡力不理會鎖鍊那一端的藍衣女孩傳來的侮辱和咒罵。 他想知道自己若沒回去，矮小多毛的男人會怎麼辦。 他想知道維多利亞．佛瑞斯特此刻在做什麼，後來決定她可能在她父親的農舍裡，在自己的房間，自己的床上熟睡著。 他想知道六個月算不算長途跋涉，還有在路上要吃什麼。 他想知道星星都吃什麼 接著他就睡著了。 大笨蛋。土包子。大傻瓜。星星說道。 她嘆了一口氣，盡可能在這種情況下讓自己舒服一點。她的腿疼得麻木了，但仍痛個不停。她試了試腕上的鎖鍊，但鎖鍊又牢又緊，她根本沒辦法逃脫，也破壞不了。呆子，髒鬼。她小聲嘟噥著。 然後她也睡著了。