On this very afternoon, while Sara was out, a strange thing happened in the attic. Only Melchisedec saw and heard it; and he was so much alarmed and mystified that he scuttled back to his hole and hid there, and really quaked and trembled as he peeped out furtively and with great caution to watch what was going on.
The attic had been very still all the day after Sara had left it in the early morning. The stillness had only been broken by the pattering of the rain upon the slates and the skylight. Melchisedec had, in fact, found it rather dull; and when the rain ceased to patter and perfect silence reigned, he decided to come out and reconnoiter, though experience taught him that Sara would not return for some time. He had been rambling and sniffing about, and had just found a totally unexpected and unexplained crumb left from his last meal, when his attention was attracted by a sound on the roof. He stopped to listen with a palpitating heart. The sound suggested that something was moving on the roof. It was approaching the skylight; it reached the skylight. The skylight was being mysteriously opened. A dark face peered into the attic; then another face appeared behind it, and both looked in with signs of caution and interest. Two men were outside on the roof, and were making silent preparations to enter through the skylight itself. One was Ram Dass and the other was a young man who was the Indian gentleman’s secretary; but of course Melchisedec did not know this. He only knew that the men were invading the silence and privacy of the attic; and as the one with the dark face let himself down through the aperture with such lightness and dexterity that he did not make the slightest sound, Melchisedec turned tail and fled precipitately back to his hole. He was frightened to death. He had ceased to be timid with Sara, and knew she would never throw anything but crumbs, and would never make any sound other than the soft, low, coaxing whistling; but strange men were dangerous things to remain near. He lay close and flat near the entrance of his home, just managing to peep through the crack with a bright, alarmed eye. How much he understood of the talk he heard I am not in the least able to say; but, even if he had understood it all, he would probably have remained greatly mystified.
The secretary, who was light and young, slipped through the skylight as noiselessly as Ram Dass had done; and he caught a last glimpse of Melchisedec’s vanishing tail.
“Was that a rat?” he asked Ram Dass in a whisper.
“Yes; a rat, Sahib,” answered Ram Dass, also whispering. “There are many in the walls.”
“Ugh!” exclaimed the young man. “It is a wonder the child is not terrified of them.”
Ram Dass made a gesture with his hands. He also smiled respectfully. He was in this place as the intimate exponent of Sara, though she had only spoken to him once.
“The child is the little friend of all things, Sahib,” he answered. “She is not as other children. I see her when she does not see me. I slip across the slates and look at her many nights to see that she is safe. I watch her from my window when she does not know I am near. She stands on the table there and looks out at the sky as if it spoke to her. The sparrows come at her call. The rat she has fed and tamed in her loneliness. The poor slave of the house comes to her for comfort. There is a little child who comes to her in secret; there is one older who worships her and would listen to her forever if she might. This I have seen when I have crept across the roof. By the mistress of the house—who is an evil woman—she is treated like a pariah; but she has the bearing of a child who is of the blood of kings!”
“You seem to know a great deal about her,” the secretary said.
“All her life each day I know,” answered Ram Dass. “Her going out I know, and her coming in; her sadness and her poor joys; her coldness and her hunger. I know when she is alone until midnight, learning from her books; I know when her secret friends steal to her and she is happier—as children can be, even in the midst of poverty—because they come and she may laugh and talk with them in whispers. If she were ill I should know, and I would come and serve her if it might be done.”
“You are sure no one comes near this place but herself, and that she will not return and surprise us. She would be frightened if she found us here, and the Sahib Carrisford’s plan would be spoiled.”
Ram Dass crossed noiselessly to the door and stood close to it.
“None mount here but herself, Sahib,” he said. “She has gone out with her basket and may be gone for hours. If I stand here I can hear any step before it reaches the last flight of the stairs.”
The secretary took a pencil and a tablet from his breast pocket.
“Keep your ears open,” he said; and he began to walk slowly and softly round the miserable little room, making rapid notes on his tablet as he looked at things.
First he went to the narrow bed. He pressed his hand upon the mattress and uttered an exclamation.
“As hard as a stone,” he said. “That will have to be altered some day when she is out. A special journey can be made to bring it across. It cannot be done tonight.” He lifted the covering and examined the one thin pillow.
“Coverlet dingy and worn, blanket thin, sheets patched and ragged,” he said. “What a bed for a child to sleep in—and in a house which calls itself respectable! There has not been a fire in that grate for many a day,” glancing at the rusty fireplace.
“Never since I have seen it,” said Ram Dass. “The mistress of the house is not one who remembers that another than herself may be cold.”
The secretary was writing quickly on his tablet. He looked up from it as he tore off a leaf and slipped it into his breast pocket.
“It is a strange way of doing the thing,” he said. “Who planned it?”
Ram Dass made a modestly apologetic obeisance.
“It is true that the first thought was mine, Sahib,” he said; “though it was naught but a fancy. I am fond of this child; we are both lonely. It is her way to relate her visions to her secret friends. Being sad one night, I lay close to the open skylight and listened. The vision she related told what this miserable room might be if it had comforts in it. She seemed to see it as she talked, and she grew cheered and warmed as she spoke. Then she came to this fancy; and the next day, the Sahib being ill and wretched, I told him of the thing to amuse him. It seemed then but a dream, but it pleased the Sahib. To hear of the child’s doings gave him entertainment. He became interested in her and asked questions. At last he began to please himself with the thought of making her visions real things.”
“You think that it can be done while she sleeps? Suppose she awakened,” suggested the secretary; and it was evident that whatsoever the plan referred to was, it had caught and pleased his fancy as well as the Sahib Carrisford’s.
“I can move as if my feet were of velvet,” Ram Dass replied; “and children sleep soundly—even the unhappy ones. I could have entered this room in the night many times, and without causing her to turn upon her pillow. If the other bearer passes to me the things through the window, I can do all and she will not stir. When she awakens she will think a magician has been here.”
He smiled as if his heart warmed under his white robe, and the secretary smiled back at him.
“It will be like a story from the Arabian Nights,” he said. “Only an Oriental could have planned it. It does not belong to London fogs.”
They did not remain very long, to the great relief of Melchisedec, who, as he probably did not comprehend their conversation, felt their movements and whispers ominous. The young secretary seemed interested in everything. He wrote down things about the floor, the fireplace, the broken footstool, the old table, the walls—which last he touched with his hand again and again, seeming much pleased when he found that a number of old nails had been driven in various places.
“You can hang things on them,” he said.
Ram Dass smiled mysteriously.
“Yesterday, when she was out,” he said, “I entered, bringing with me small, sharp nails which can be pressed into the wall without blows from a hammer. I placed many in the plaster where I may need them. They are ready.”
The Indian gentleman’s secretary stood still and looked round him as he thrust his tablets back into his pocket.
“I think I have made notes enough; we can go now,” he said. “The Sahib Carrisford has a warm heart. It is a thousand pities that he has not found the lost child.”
“If he should find her his strength would be restored to him,” said Ram Dass. “His God may lead her to him yet.”
Then they slipped through the skylight as noiselessly as they had entered it. And, after he was quite sure they had gone, Melchisedec was greatly relieved, and in the course of a few minutes felt it safe to emerge from his hole again and scuffle about in the hope that even such alarming human beings as these might have chanced to carry crumbs in their pockets and drop one or two.
背景介紹與作者介紹
這段文字出自法蘭西絲·霍奇森·伯內特所著的經典兒童小說《小公主》，該書於1905年首次出版。伯內特是一位英裔美國作家，以其探討善良、韌性和想像力等主題的永恆故事而聞名。《小公主》講述了莎拉·克魯的故事，她是一位富有想像力的女孩，在失去財產後被迫在寄宿學校裡當僕人，但在逆境中仍然保持著尊嚴和善良。
故事的詳細解讀
在這段摘錄中，敘事是通過住在莎拉居住的閣樓裡的小老鼠麥基洗德的眼睛看到的。場景揭示了拉姆·達斯和他的年輕秘書的秘密來訪，他們在莎拉外出時悄悄地檢查莎拉的閣樓房間。拉姆·達斯是莎拉忠誠的僕人和保護者，默默地從陰影中看著她。這兩個人正計劃改善莎拉的悲慘生活條件，受到她對美好生活的夢想和憧憬的啟發。他們對莎拉表現出的秘密關懷和尊重與她所面臨的來自房子的女主人形成鮮明對比。
這段文字突出了善良、保護和希望的主題。儘管莎拉處境艱難，但她並不孤單；看不見的朋友們看顧著她，並且有一個計劃要給她帶來安慰和快樂。老鼠麥基洗德象徵著那些注意到並關心弱勢群體的人，即使其他人忽視了他們。
給學生的教訓和見解
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韌性和善良： 莎拉的性格教導我們即使在逆境中也要保持善良和希望。她與動物和人交朋友，表現出超越自身困境的同情心。
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想像力的力量： 莎拉對更好房間和生活的憧憬激勵了其他人採取行動。這提醒學生，想像力和夢想可以激勵真正的改變。
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同情心和保護： 拉姆·達斯的作用說明了關心他人的重要性，尤其是那些弱勢群體。學生可以學會成為細心和支持的朋友。
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面對恐懼的勇氣： 即使是麥基洗德，雖然害怕，但仍然繼續觀察和希望。這鼓勵年輕讀者勇敢而好奇地面對他們的恐懼。
將這些教訓應用於日常生活
- 在學習中： 像莎拉一樣，學生可以培養好奇心和對書籍的熱愛，利用想像力探索新的想法和可能性。
- 在人際關係中： 對同學和朋友表現出善良和同情心，尤其是那些可能感到孤獨或掙扎的人，可以產生很大的影響。
- 在挑戰中： 當面臨困難時，學生可以記住莎拉的榜樣，保持希望和韌性，明白艱難的時期是可以克服的。
- 在創造力中： 鼓勵創造性思維和夢想可以帶來創新的解決方案和個人成長。
從故事中培養積極的特質
- 同情心： 每天練習小的善行，例如幫助同伴或照顧動物。
- 觀察： 像麥基洗德一樣，學會仔細觀察周圍環境並理解他人的感受。
- 希望： 即使情況看起來很糟糕，也要保持積極的態度，相信改變是可能的。
- 責任： 成為你社區的保護者和支持者，為需要幫助的人挺身而出。
結論
《小公主》不僅僅是一個關於困境的故事；它也是對內在力量、善良和希望魔力的讚頌。閱讀這個故事的學生可以獲得關於同情心、勇氣和培養夢想的重要性的寶貴教訓。通過應用這些教訓，他們可以成長為有思想、有韌性的人，為他們的社區和人際關係做出積極貢獻。
