Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern — Volume 02 — John Shaqi
Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern — Volume 02
General
Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern — Volume 02
Literature -- Collections
"Yes, but I am made of mahogany," said the Top; "and the mayor himself
turned me. He has a turning-lathe of his own, and it amuses
him greatly."
"Can I depend on that?" asked the Ball.
"May I never be whipped again if it is not true!" replied the Top.
"You talk well for yourself," said the Ball, "but I cannot do what you
ask. I am as good as half engaged to a swallow: every time I leap up
into the air he sticks his head out of the nest and says, 'Will you?
will you?' And now I have silently said 'Yes,' and that is as good as
being half engaged; but I promise I will never forget you."
"Much good that will do!" said the Top.
And they spoke no more to each other.
Next day the Ball was taken out. The Top saw how she flew high into the
air, like a bird; at last one could no longer see her. Each time she
came back again, but always gave a high leap when she touched the earth;
and that came about either from her longing, or because she had a cork
in her body. The ninth time the Ball stayed away and did not come back
again; and the boy looked and looked, but she was gone.
"I know very well where she is!" sighed the Top. "She is in the
Swallow's nest, and has married the Swallow!"
The more the Top thought of this, the more he longed for the Ball. Just
because he could not get her, he fell more in love with her. That she
had taken some one else, that was another thing. So the Top danced
around and hummed, but always thought of the Ball, which grew more and
more lovely in his fancy. Thus many years went by,--and now it was
an old love.
And the Top was no longer young. But one day he was gilt all over; never
had he looked so handsome; he was now a golden Top, and sprang till he
hummed again. Yes, that was something! But all at once he sprang too
high, and--he was gone!
They looked and looked, even in the cellar, but he was not to be found.
Where was he?
He had jumped into the dust-box, where all kinds of things were lying:
cabbage stalks, sweepings, and gravel that had fallen down from
the roof.
"Here's a nice place to lie in! The gilding will soon leave me here. And
what a rabble I've come amongst!"
And then he looked askance at a long cabbage stalk that was much too
near him, and at a curious round thing like an old apple; but it was not
an apple--it was an old Ball, which had lain for years in the
roof-gutter and was soaked through with water.
"Thank goodness, here comes one of us, with whom one can talk!" said the
little Ball, and looked at the gilt Top. "I am really morocco, sewn by a
girl's hands, and have a cork inside me; but no one would think it to
look at me. I was very near marrying a swallow, but I fell into the
gutter on the roof, and have laid there full five years, and am quite
soaked through. That's a long time, you may believe me, for a
young girl."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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