The Portuguese Duck

by Hans Christian Andersen（1861）

　　A DUCK once arrived from Portugal， but there were some who said she came from Spain， which is almost the same thing. At all events， she was called the “Portuguese，” and she laid eggs， was killed， and cooked， and there was an end of her. But the ducklings which crept forth from the eggs were also called “Portuguese，” and about that there may be some question. But of all the family one only remained in the duckyard， which may be called a farmyard， as the chickens were admitted， and the cock strutted about in a very hostile manner. “He annoys me with his loud crowing，” said the Portuguese duck； “but， still， he's a handsome bird， there's no denying that， although he's not a drake. He ought to moderate his voice， like those little birds who are singing in the lime-trees over there in our neighbor's garden， but that is an art only acquired in polite society. How sweetly they sing there； it is quite a pleasure to listen to them！ I call it Portuguese singing. If I had only such a little singing-bird， I'd be kind and good as a mother to him， for it's in my nature， in my Portuguese blood.”

　　While she was speaking， one of the little singing-birds came tumbling head over heels from the roof into the yard. The cat was after him， but he had escaped from her with a broken wing， and so came tumbling into the yard. “That's just like the cat， she's a villain，” said the Portuguese duck. “I remember her ways when I had children of my own. How can such a creature be allowed to live， and wander about upon the roofs. I don't think they allow such things in Portugal.” She pitied the little singing-bird， and so did all the other ducks who were not Portuguese.

　　“Poor little creature！” they said， one after another， as they came up. “We can't sing， certainly； but we have a sounding-board， or something of the kind， within us； we can feel that， though we don't talk about it.”

　　“But I can talk，” said the Portuguese duck； “and I'll do something for the little fellow； it's my duty；” and she stepped into the water-trough， and beat her wings upon the water so strongly that the bird was nearly drowned by a shower-bath； but the duck meant it kindly. “That is a good deed，” she said； “I hope the others will take example by it.”

　　“Tweet， tweet！” said the little bird， for one of his wings being broken， he found it difficult to shake himself； but he quite understood that the bath was meant kindly， and he said， “You are very kind-hearted， madam；” but he did not wish for a second bath.

　　“I have never thought about my heart，” replied the Portuguese duck， “but I know that I love all my fellow-creatures， except the cat， and nobody can expect me to love her， for she ate up two of my ducklings. But pray make yourself at home； it is easy to make one's self comfortable. I am myself from a foreign country， as you may see by my feathery dress. My drake is a native of these parts； he's not of my race； but I am not proud on that account. If any one here can understand you， I may say positively I am that person.”

　　“She's quite full of 'Portulak，'” said a little common duck， who was witty. All the common ducks considered the word “Portulak” a good joke， for it sounded like Portugal. They nudged each other， and said， “Quack！ that was witty！”

　　then the other ducks began to notice the little bird. “The Portuguese had certainly a GREat flow of language，” they said to the little bird. “For our part we don't care to fill our beaks with such long words， but we sympathize with you quite as much. If we don't do anything else， we can walk about with you everywhere， and we think that is the best thing we can do.”

　　“You have a lovely voice，” said one of the eldest ducks； “it must be GREat satisfaction to you to be able to give so much pleasure as you do. I am certainly no judge of your singing so I keep my beak shut， which is better than talking nonsense， as others do.”

　　“Don't plague him so，” interposed the Portuguese duck； “he requires rest and nursing. My little singing-bird do you wish me to prepare another bath for you？”

　　“Oh， no！ no！ pray let me dry，” implored the little bird.

　　“the water-cure is the only remedy for me， when I am not well，” said the Portuguese. “Amusement， too， is very beneficial. The fowls from the neighborhood will soon be here to pay you a visit. There are two Cochin Chinese amongst them； they wear feathers on their legs， and are well educated. They have been brought from a GREat distance， and consequently I treat them with greater respect than I do the others.”

　　then the fowls arrived， and the cock was polite enough to-day to keep from being rude. “You are a real songster，” he said， “you do as much with your little voice as it is possible to do； but there requires more noise and shrillness in any one who wishes it to be known who he is.”

　　the two Chinese were quite enchanted with the appearance of the singing-bird. His feathers had been much ruffled by his bath， so that he seemed to them quite like a tiny Chinese fowl. “He's charming，” they said to each other， and began a conversation with him in whispers， using the most aristocratic Chinese dialect： “We are of the same race as yourself，” they said. “The ducks， even the Portuguese， are all aquatic birds， as you must have noticed. You do not know us yet，—very few know us， or give themselves the trouble to make our acquaintance， not even any of the fowls， though we are born to occupy a higher grade in society than most of them. But that does not disturb us， we quietly go on in our own way among the rest， whose ideas are certainly not ours； for we look at the bright side of things， and only speak what is good， although that is sometimes very difficult to find where none exists. Except ourselves and the cock there is not one in the yard who can be called talented or polite. It cannot even be said of the ducks， and we warn you， little bird， not to trust that one yonder， with the short tail feathers， for she is cunning； that curiously marked one， with the crooked stripes on her wings， is a mischief-maker， and never lets any one have the last word， though she is always in the wrong. That fat duck yonder speaks evil of every one， and that is against our principles. If we have nothing good to tell， we close our beaks. The Portuguese is the only one who has had any education， and with whom we can associate， but she is passionate， and talks too much about 'Portugal.'”

　　“I wonder what those two Chinese are whispering about，” whispered one duck to another； “they are always doing it， and it annoys me. We never speak to them.”

　　Now the drake came up， and he thought the little singing-bird was a sparrow. “Well， I don't understand the difference，” he said； “it appears to me all the same. He's only a plaything， and if people will have playthings， why let them， I say.”

　　“Don't take any notice of what he says，” whispered the Portuguese； “he's very well in matters of business， and with him business is placed before everything. But now I shall lie down and have a little rest. It is a duty we owe to ourselves that we may be nice and fat when we come to be embalmed with sage and onions and apples.” So she laid herself down in the sun and winked with one eye； she had a very comfortable place， and felt so comfortable that she fell asleep. The little singing-bird busied himself for some time with his broken wing， and at last he lay down， too， quite close to his protectress. The sun shone warm and bright， and he found out that it was a very good place. But the fowls of the neighborhood were all awake， and， to tell the truth， they had paid a visit to the duckyard， simply and solely to find food for themselves. The Chinese were the first to leave， and the other fowls soon followed them.

　　the witty little duck said of the Portuguese， that the old lady was getting quite a “doting ducky，” All the other ducks laughed at this. “Doting ducky，” they whispered. “Oh， that's too 'witty！'” And then they repeated the former joke about “Portulak，” and declared it was most amusing. Then they all lay down to have a nap.

　　they had been lying asleep for some time， when suddenly something was thrown into the yard for them to eat. It came down with such a bang， that the whole company started up and clapped their wings. The Portuguese awoke too， and rushed over to the other side： in so doing she trod upon the little singing-bird.

　　“Tweet，” he cried； “you trod very hard upon me， madam.”

　　“Well， then， why do you lie in my way？” she retorted， “you must not be so touchy. I have nerves of my own， but I do not cry 'tweet.'”

　　“Don't be angry，” said the little bird； “the 'tweet' slipped out of my beak unawares.”

　　the Portuguese did not listen to him， but began eating as fast as she could， and made a good meal. When she had finished， she lay down again， and the little bird， who wished to be amiable， began to sing.

　　从葡萄牙来了一只母鸡，有人说是从西班牙来的，关系不大，她被人称为葡萄牙鸭。她生了蛋，被人宰了，做成了一道菜。这便是她一生的经历。所有从她的蛋里爬出来的，都被叫做葡萄牙鸭，这颇为重要。现在这一族仅仅只剩下一只留在鸭场里了。这个地方鸡也可以进去，而且就有一只公鸡在里面不可一世地到处闯荡着。“他那猛狠的啼声很搅扰我，”葡萄牙鸭说道，“可是他很漂亮，谁也不能否认，尽管他并不是一只公鸭。他应该稳健一点儿，不过稳健是一种艺术，它要求更高层次的教养。邻家花园里的椴树上的那些会唱歌的小鸟就有这样的教养。他们唱得多动听啊！要是我有这么一只小鸟，那我真愿意做他的妈妈，又尽心又善良，我的葡萄牙血液里就有这种感情。”就在她说这话的当儿来了一只小鸟。他从屋顶上头朝下落下来。猫追他，但是他逃脱了，一只翅膀骨折了，掉到了鸭场里。“猫性难改，这坏蛋！”葡萄牙鸭说道，“打从我自己有小鸭的时候起，我就知道他了！这么一个玩意儿，竟被允许在屋顶上生存横行！我想在葡萄牙是找不到的。”

　　她很可怜这只会唱歌的小鸟，别的不是葡萄牙鸭的鸭子也很怜悯他。“可怜的小傢伙，”他们说道，一只又一只地走了过来。“诚然我们自己不唱歌，”他们说道，“但是我们有着内在的唱歌的本能，或者类似本能的某种东西。我们能感到这一点，尽管我们没有用嘴讲过它。”“那么我要讲讲它，”葡萄牙鸭说道，“我要为此做点甚么，这是一个鸭子的责任！”於是她跳进水槽里，拍打起来。这样一来，她那一阵急水差点把那会唱歌的小鸟淹死，然而，本意是好的。“这是一种善行，”她说道，“别的鸭子可以看着，照着做。”“唧！”小鸟叫道，他的一只翅膀骨折了，要把身上的水抖掉很难。但是他很懂得这次扑水完全是善意的。“您的心肠太好了，夫人！”他说道，但是请求她不要再拍打了。“我从来没有考虑过我的心肠，”葡萄牙鸭说道，“但是我知道，我喜爱我身边的一切生灵。那猫除外，谁也不能要求我喜爱它！他已经吃了我的两个孩子了。不过，请把这里看成就是你自己的家吧，这是可以的。我自己就是外边来的，您瞧我的仪态和这一身羽毛衣着便看得出来。我的公鸭是本地生的，没有我这样的血统，不过我并不因此而感到不可一世！——如果这里面有谁瞭解您的话，那我敢说便是我了。”“他的嗉囔里全是葡萄拉克1，”一只很机灵的普通的小鸭子说道。其他的普通鸭子觉得“葡萄拉克”这个字眼高明极了，它的读音像葡萄牙。他们挤到一起“嘎”地叫起来，他真是机灵透了。之后，他们便和那只会唱歌的小鸟聊起来了。“那只葡萄牙鸭确实能说会道，”他们说道。“我们嘴里没有那么多大字眼，但是我们的同情心却和她一样。如果我们不能为您做点甚么，那我们便悄悄走开。我们觉得这是最好的。”“您有很美妙的声音，”一只年长的鸭子说道，“您一定有很好的良知，使大家都愉快，就像您所做的那样。我一点儿也不能动嘴！所以我便闭上嘴巴。比起许多别的对您说许多蠢话来，这要好得多。”“别折磨他了！”葡萄牙鸭说道，“他需要休息，需要护理。会唱歌的小鸟，要我再给您拍点水吗？”“啊，别！让我干干的吧！”他说道。“水疗对我是最有效的，”葡萄牙鸭说道，“玩耍玩耍也是很不错的！现在邻舍的鸡快来串门了，那是两只中国鸡。他们穿的是灯笼裤，很有教养。他们是从外国来的，我对他们很尊敬。”

　　母鸡来了，那只公鸡也来了。他今天很有礼貌，没有像往日那么粗野。“您真是一只会唱歌的鸟儿，”他说道，“您用您那小小的声音，能唱出这样一个小声音能唱的一切。不过气还得足一点，好让别人一听便知道这是一只公鸟。”

　　那两只中国鸡看到会唱歌的小鸟十分高兴。挨了一场水浇以后，他看去羽毛还是那么蓬松，让他们觉得他很像一只中国小鸡。“他真好看！”於是他们便和他交谈起来；他们用喃喃细声和带呸呸声的上流中国语说话。“我们和您是一类的。鸭子，即便是葡萄牙的，是属於泅水的禽类，就像您肯定已经注意到了的那样。您还不瞭解我们，可是又有多少人瞭解我们或者愿意找那个麻烦来瞭解我们呢！没有，就连母鸡里都没有！虽然我们比起别的大多数来，是蹲在更高一些的桿子上。——这没有甚么，和他们在一起，可我们安安静静地度我们的日子。别的那些原则和我们的不一样。不过我们总只是看好的方面，只讲好的。可是要从不存在好的当中去找好的却是很难的。整个鸡棚里，除了我们两个和这只公鸡外，其余全都是些没有天赋的，不过都很诚实。鸭场里居住的可不能这么说。我们要警告您，会唱歌的小鸟！别相信那只秃尾巴母鸭，她很狡猾。那只身上有花点、翅膀上有翼斑的，她可是个专门找碴儿的，尽管她总是错的，可是她从来不承认！——那只胖鸭子尽说人的坏话。这是我们所反对的。一个人要是不能讲点好的，那就应该闭上自己的嘴巴。那只葡萄牙鸭是唯一一只有点教养的，是可以与之来往的。不过她太重感情，讲葡萄牙讲得太多了。”“那两只中国鸡怎么有那么多可以啰嗦的！”两只鸭子说道，“她们叫我厌烦；我从来没有和她们讲过话。”

　　现在公鸭来了！他以为会唱歌的小鸟是一只麻雀。“是呀，我分辨不出来，”他说道，“不过也全一样！他是供人玩的那一类的，有他也行，没有也行。”“别在意他说些甚么！”葡萄牙鸭低声说道。“他做生意很受人看重，做生意是首要的事情。不过现在我要躺下休息了。很有这种必要，这样才能长得肥肥胖胖的，到以后才能叫人在我肚里填上苹果，在我身上涂上梅子酱2.”

　　之后，她便在太阳地里躺下了，眨着一只眼睛。她躺得十分自在，她感觉舒服得很，她睡得很香甜。会唱歌的小鸟用嘴啄啄他那折断了的翅膀，靠着他的那位女的保护人躺下去。太阳晒着，很温和很舒服，这是一个存身的好地方。邻舍的母鸡散开找食去了，其实他们来串门是专门为了来寻食物的。那两只中国鸡先走开了，接着其他的也走掉了。那只机灵的小鸭说葡萄牙鸭这老太婆马上要“返老还童”了。於是其他的鸭便都咶咶笑了起来，“返老还童！他真是机灵透了！”之后他们又重複了先前的那诙谐话：“葡萄拉克！”非常地有趣。之后他们也躺下了。

　　他们躺了一会儿。忽然给鸭场里抛了一些吃的东西，响了一声。於是所有正在睡觉的鸭子一下子都跳起来，拍着翅膀。那葡萄牙鸭也醒来，翻了个身，死死地把那会唱歌的小鸟压在身下。“唧！”他叫了一声，“您压得太狠了，夫人！”“您为甚么躺在那里挡住我，”她说道，“您不必那么娇气。我也有神经，可是我从不唧唧叫。”“别生气！”小鸟说道，“那声唧是我脱口而出的！”葡萄牙鸭不听他的，而是奔到吃东西的那边去，美美地吃了一顿。吃完之后，她躺下了。会唱歌的小鸟过来了，想表现得好些：

　　的里，的里！

　　讚美你的好心，我要时时歌唱的里！

　　飞得远远的，远远的，远远的。“现在吃饱我要休息了，”她说道，“您得随着这里的习惯！现在我要睡了！”

　　会唱歌的小鸟感到十分惊讶，因为他实在是好意。夫人后来醒过来的时候，他站在她的身前，口里衔着他找到的一粒麦子，他把它放在她的前面。但是她睡得不好，她自然很不高兴。“您可以把它给一只小鸡，”她说道，“别老在我身边缠着我。”“可是您生我的气啦，”他说道，“我做了甚么啦？”“做了甚么！”葡萄牙鸭说道，“这样的词是很不高雅的，我提醒您注意。”“昨天这里是大晴天，”小鸟说道，“今天这里又黑又阴！我心里实在难过。”“您看来不会计算时间，”葡萄牙鸭说道，“一天还没有过完呢。别站在那儿傻里傻气的！”“您那么生气地看着我，一双眼睛就像我落到鸭场的时候恶狠狠地望着我的那双一个样。”“太无理了！”葡萄牙鸭说道，“您把我和猫那强盗比！我的身躯里连一滴坏血都没有。我照料您，教您懂得礼貌。”之后，她把会唱歌的小鸟的头咬掉下来，他死了。“怎么回事！”她说道，“他怎么经不起！是啊，就是说他不配生存在这个世上！我曾经像一个母亲一样地照料他。我知道！因为我有一颗好心。”

　　邻舍的公鸡把头伸进鸭场里，使足了蒸汽机车那样的气力叫起来。“瞧您这么一叫把一只鸟的命叫掉了！”她说道，“这完全是您的过错。他的头掉了，我的也差一点掉了。”“他躺那里就那么大一点儿，”公鸡说道。“请您尊重他一点好不好？”葡萄牙鸭说道，“他有音调，他会唱歌，他有教养！他可爱温柔。在动物中，在所谓的人当中，这都是很合适的。”

　　所有的鸭子都聚集到那只死去的会唱歌的小鸟周围，或者出於嫉妒，或者出於同情，他们都是非常重感情的。而由於这里并没有甚么可以嫉妒的，所以他们表现的都是同情的感情，连那两只中国鸡都如此。“像这样会唱歌的小鸟，我们永远也不会再有了！他差不多就是一只中国鸟了，”他们哭了起来。一个个都咯咯起来，所有的母鸡都咯咯叫。可是鸭子走开了，一个个都红着眼圈。“我们都是好心的，”他们说道，“这一点谁也不能否认。”“好心！”葡萄牙鸭说道，“是啊，我们有——差不多和在萄葡牙一个样！”“现在让我们往嗉囔里装点甚么东西吧！”公鸭说道，“这才是最重要的！一件小玩意儿摔碎了，可我们依然还有呢。”

　　1是从马齿苋的拉丁名Portulaca　oleracea转化出来的词，意思是低级植物，劣等饲料。这个字又与萄葡牙一词谐音。

　　2在西菜中做烤鸭或烤鹅时，多喜欢在鸭鹅肚子里填上苹果。