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英语阅读《踩着面包走的女孩》
英格尔本来是一个穷苦的孩子，可是当她过上了“锦衣玉食”的生活后，不但忘记了自己吃不饱穿不暖的日子，还变得瞧不起自己的父母了，而且不珍惜别人的劳动成果，最后受到了惩罚。这启示我们，犯了错误不要紧，但要主动承认和积极改正错误。而且还要学会节俭，牢记那首诗：“锄禾日当午，汗滴禾下土。谁知盘中餐，粒粒皆辛苦”
The Girl Who Trod on the Loaf 踩着面包走的女孩
you have quite likely heard of the girl who trod on a loaf so as not to soil her pretty shoes, and what misfortunes this brought upon her. the story has been written and printed, too.
she was a poor child, but proud and arrogant, and people said she had a bad disposition. when but a very little child, she found pleasure in catching flies, to pull off their wings and make creeping insects of them. and she used to stick may bugs and beetles on a pin, then put a green leaf or piece of paper close to their feet, so that the poor animals clung to it, and turned and twisted as they tried to get off the pin.
"the may bug is reading now," little inger would say. "see how it turns the leaves!"
as she grew older she became even worse instead of better; but she was very pretty, and that was probably her misfortune. because otherwise she would have been disciplined more than she was.
"you'll bring misfortune down upon you," said her own mother to her. "as a little child you often used to trample on my aprons; and when you're older i fear you'll trample on my heart."
and she really did.
then she was sent into the country to be in the service of people of distinction. they treated her as kindly as if she had been their own child and dressed her so well that she looked extremely beautiful and became even more arrogant.
when she had been in their service for about a year, her mistress said to her, "you ought to go back and visit your parents, little inger."
so she went, but only because she wanted to show them how fine she had become. but when she reached the village, and saw the young men and girls gossiping around the pond, and her mother sat resting herself on a stone near by, with a bundle of firewood she had gathered in the forest, inger turned away; she was ashamed that one dressed as smartly as she should have for a mother such a poor, ragged woman who gathered sticks for burning. it was without reluctance that she turned away; she was only annoyed.
another half year went by.
"you must go home someday and visit your old parents, little inger," said her mistress. "here's a large loaf of white bread to take them. they'll be happy to see you again."
so inger put on her best dress and her fine new shoes and lifted her skirt high and walked very carefully, so that her shoes would stay clean and neat, and for that no one could blame her. but when she came to where the path crossed over marshy ground, and there was a stretch of water and mud before her, she threw the bread into the mud, so that she could use it as a steppingstone and get across with dry shoes. but just as she placed one foot on the bread and lifted the other up, the loaf sank in deeper and deeper, carrying her down until she disappeared entirely, and nothing could be seen but a black, bubbling pool! that's the story.
but what became of her? she went down to the marsh woman, who brews down there. the marsh woman is an aunt of the elf maidens, who are very well known. there have been poems written about them and pictures painted of them, but nobody knows much about the marsh woman, except that when the meadows begin to reek in the summer the old woman is at her brewing down below. little inger sank into this brewery, and no one could stand it very long there. a cesspool is a wonderful palace compared with the marsh woman's brewery. every vessel is reeking with horrible smells that would turn a human being faint, and they are packed closely together; but even if there were enough space between them to creep through, it would be impossible because of the slimy toads and the fat snakes that are creeping and slithering along. into this place little inger sank, and all the horrible, creeping mess was so icy cold that she shivered in every limb. she became more and more stiff, and the bread stuck fast to her, drawing her as an amber bead draws a slender thread.
the marsh woman was at home, for the brewery was being visited that day by the devil and his great-grandmother, the latter a very poisonous old creature who was never idle. she never goes out without taking some needlework with her, and she had brought some this time. she was sewing bits of leather to put in people's shoes, so that they should have no rest. she embroidered lies, and worked up into mischief and slander thoughtless words that would otherwise have fallen harmlessly to the ground. yes, she could sew, embroider, and weave, that old great-grandmother!
she saw inger, then put on her spectacles and looked again at her. "that girl has talent," she said. "let me have her as a souvenir of my visit here; she will make a suitable statue in my great-grandchildren's antechamber." and she was given to her!
thus little inger went to hell! people don't always go directly down there; they can go by a roundabout way, when they have the necessary talent.
it was an endless antechamber. it made one dizzy to look forward and dizzy to look backward, and there was a crowd of anxious, exhausted people waiting for the gates of mercy to be opened for them. they would have long to wait. huge, hideous, fat spiders spun cobwebs, of thousands of years' lasting, over their feet, webs like foot screws or manacles, which held them like copper chains; besides this, every soul was filled with everlasting unrest, an unrest of torment and pain. the miser stood there, lamenting that he had forgotten the key to his money box. yes, it would take too long to repeat all the tortures and troubles of that place.
inger was tortured by standing like a statue; it was as if she were fastened to the ground by the loaf of bread.
"this is what comes of trying to have clean feet," she said to herself. "look at them stare at me!"
yes, they all stared at her, with evil passions glaring from their eyes, and spoke without a sound coming from their mouths. they were frightful to look at!
"it must be a pleasure to look at me," thought little inger. "i have a pretty face and nice clothes." and then she turned her eyes; her neck was too stiff to move. my, how soiled she had become in the marsh woman's brewery! her dress was covered with clots of nasty slime; a snake had wound itself in her hair and dangled over her neck; and from every fold of her dress an ugly toad peeped out, barking like an asthmatic lap dog. it was most disagreeable. "but all the others down here look horrible, too," was the only way she could console herself.
worst of all was the dreadful hunger she felt. could she stoop down and break off a bit of the bread on which she was standing? no, her back had stiffened, her arms and hands had stiffened, her whole body was like a statue of stone. she could only roll her eyes, but these she could turn entirely around, so she could see behind her, and that was a horrid sight. then the flies came and crept to and fro across her eyeballs. she blinked her eyes, but the flies did not fly away, for they could not; their wings had been pulled off, and they had become creeping insects. that was another torment added to the hunger, and at last it seemed to her as if part of her insides were eating itself up; she was so empty, so terribly empty.
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