Hello guys,
Here is the second part of a short story by Oscar Wilde
Enjoy!
The Young King by Oscar Wilde - Part 2
When midnight sounded from the clock-tower he
touched a bell, and his pages entered and disrobed him with much ceremony,
pouring rose-water over his hands, and strewing flowers on his pillow. A few
moments after that they had left the room, he fell asleep.
And as he slept he dreamed
a dream, and this was his dream. He thought that he was standing in a long, low
attic, amidst the whirr and clatter of many looms. The meagre daylight peered
in through the grated windows, and showed him the gaunt figures of the weavers
bending over their cases. Pale, sickly-looking children were crouched on the
huge cross-beams. As the shuttles dashed through the warp they lifted up the
heavy battens, and when the shuttles stopped they let the battens fall and
pressed the threads together. Their faces were pinched with famine, and their
thin hands shook and trembled. Some haggard women were seated at a table
sewing. A horrible odour filled the place. The air was foul and heavy, and the
walls dripped and streamed with damp.
The young King went over
to one of the weavers, and stood by him and watched him.
And the weaver looked at
him angrily, and said, 'Why art thou watching me? Art thou a spy set on us by
our master?'
'Who is thy master?' asked
the young King.
'Our master!' cried the
weaver, bitterly. 'He is a man like myself. Indeed, 'there is but this
difference between us that he wears fine clothes while I go in rags, and that
while I am weak from hunger he suffers not a little from overfeeding.'
'The land is free,' said
the young King, 'and thou art no man's slave.'
'In war,' answered the
weaver, 'the strong make slaves of the weak, and in peace the rich make slaves
of the poor. We must work to live, and they give us such mean wages that we
die. We toil for them all day long, and they heap up gold in their coffers, and
our children fade away before their time, and the faces of those we love become
hard and evil. We tread out the grapes, and another drinks the wine. We sow the
corn, and our own board is empty. We have chains, though no eye beholds them;
and are slaves, though men call us free.'
'Is it so with all?' he
asked.
'It is so with all,'
answered the weaver, 'with the young as well as with the old, with the women as
well as with the men, with the little children as well as with those who are
stricken in years. The merchants grind us down, and we must needs do their
bidding. The priest rides by and tells his beads, and no man has care of us.
Through our sunless lanes creeps Poverty with her hungry eyes, and Sin with his
sodden face follows close behind her. Misery wakes us in the morning, and Shame
sits with us at night. But what are these things to thee? Thou art not one of
us. Thy face is too happy.' And he turned away scowling, and threw the shuttle
across the loom, and the young King saw that it was threaded with a thread of
gold.
And a great terror seized
upon him, and he said to the weaver, 'What robe is this that thou art weaving?'
'It is the robe for the
coronation of the young King,' he answered; 'what is that to thee?'
And the young King gave a
loud cry and woke, and lo! he was in his own chamber, and through the window he
saw the great honey-coloured moon hanging in the dusky air.
And he fell asleep again
and dreamed, and this was his dream.
He thought that he was
lying on the deck of a huge galley that was being rowed by a hundred slaves. On
a carpet by his side the master of the galley was seated. He was black as
ebony, and his turban was of crimson silk. Great earrings of silver dragged
down the thick lobes of his ears, and in his hands he had a pair of ivory
scales.
The slaves were naked, but
for a ragged loincloth, and each man was chained to his neighbour. The hot sun
'beat brightly upon them, and the negroes ran up and down the gangway and
lashed them with whips of hide. They stretched out their lean arms and pulled
the heavy oars through the water. The salt spray flew from the blades.
At last they reached a
little bay, and began to take soundings. A light wind blew from the shore, and
covered the deck and the great lateen sail with a fine red dust. Three Arabs
mounted on wild asses rode out and threw spears at them. The master of the
galley took a painted bow in his hand and shot one of them in the throat. He
fell heavily into the surf, and his companions galloped away. A woman wrapped
in a yellow veil followed slowly on a camel, looking back now and then at the
dead body.
As soon as they had cast
anchor and hauled down the sail, the negroes went into the hold and brought up
a long rope-ladder, heavily weighted with lead. The master of the galley threw
it over the side, making the ends fast to two iron stanchions. Then the negroes
seized the youngest of the slaves, and knocked his gyves oil, and filled his
nostrils and his ears with wax, and tied a big stone round his waist. He crept
wearily down the ladder, and disappeared into the sea. A few bubbles rose where
he sank. Some of the other slaves peered curiously over the side. At the prow
of the galley sat a shark-charmer, beating monotonously upon a drum.
After some time the diver
rose up out of the water, and clung panting to the ladder with a pearl in his
right hand. The negroes seized it from him, and thrust him back. The slaves
fell asleep over their oars.
Again and again he came
up, and each time that he did so he brought with him a beautiful pearl. The
master of the galley weighed them, and put them into a little bag of green
leather.
The young King tried to
speak, but his tongue seemed to cleave to the roof of his mouth, and his lips
refused to move. The negroes chattered to each other, and began to quarrel over
a string of bright beads. Two cranes flew round and round the vessel.
Then the diver came up for
the last time, and the pearl that he brought with him was fairer than all the
pearls of Ormuz, for it was shaped like the full moon, and whiter than the
morning star. But his face was strangely pale, and as he fell upon the deck the
blood gushed from his ears and nostrils. He quivered for a little, and then he
was still. The negroes shrugged their shoulders, and threw the body overboard.
And the master of the
galley laughed, and, reaching out, he took the pearl, and when he saw it he
pressed it to his forehead and bowed. 'It shall be,' he said, 'for the sceptre
of the young King,' and he made a sign to the negroes to draw up the anchor.
And when the young King
heard this he gave a great cry, and woke, and through the window he saw the
long grey fingers of the dawn clutching at the fading stars.
And he fell asleep again,
and dreamed, and this was his dream.
He thought that he was
wandering through a dim wood, hung with strange fruits and with beautiful
poisonous flowers. The adders hissed at him as he went by, and the bright parrots
flew screaming from branch to branch. Huge tortoises lay asleep upon the hot
mud. The trees were full of apes and peacocks.
On and on he went, till he reached the outskirts of
the wood, and there he saw an immense multitude of men toiling in the bed of a
dried-up river. They swarmed up the crag like ants. They dug deep pits in the
ground and went down into them. Some of them cleft the rocks with great axes;
others grabbled in the sand. They tore up the cactus by its roots, and trampled
on the scarlet blossoms. They hurried about, calling to each other, and no man
was idle.
From the darkness of a
cavern Death and Avarice watched them, and Death said, 'I am weary; give me a
third of them and let me go.'
But Avarice shook her
head. 'They are my servants,' she answered.
And Death said to her,
'What hast thou in thy hand?'
(to be continued)
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