Chapter 8 little john six

From then on, he seemed no longer so happy and contented in the woods and on the sand beside Xuan'er.All that Xuan'er narrates and instructs cannot satisfy his thinking.He must think about that little book every time, but he dare not discuss it.What he saw was no longer as beautiful and magical as before.The cloud was so dark and heavy that it frightened him, as if it was about to press down from his head.It also made him sad when the autumn wind kept shaking and whipping the poor tired trees, causing the light green belly of the leaves to turn upside down, and the yellow leaves and dead branches to wave in the air.

What Xuan'er said did not satisfy him.There are many things that he does not understand, and even if he asks a question that he has been worrying about day and night, he will never get a satisfactory and clear answer.Then he thought about the little book in which everything was written so clearly and simply, and thought about the bright and quiet autumn days in the future. "I will know! I will know!" "John, I'm afraid you're a man at last, and your friendships are as human as they are,—the first one who spoke to you after me took all your trust away. Alas, my mother was not wrong at all." .”

"No, Xuan'er! But you are smarter than general knowledge, and you are smarter than a little book. Why don't you tell me everything? Just read! Why does the wind blow trees so that they have to bend and bend? They can't And again—the most beautiful branches are snapped, and hundreds of leaves are falling, even though they are green and fresh. They are all so worn out, they can no longer hold up, but still from this wild and malicious wind, forever new Shaking and blowing. Why is this? What will the wind do?" "Poor John! It's a man's talk!" "Let it be still, Xuan'er. I want quiet and sunshine."

"Your questions and wishes are like a person, and therefore neither answered nor satisfied. If you don't learn to question and hope for better things, autumn will never dawn for you, and you will never It's like talking about the thousands of people who will know." "Are there so many people?" "Yes, thousands of them! He kept his knowledge very secret, but he was still a foolish talker who could never silence his secret. He hoped to find the little book in the world, and asked everyone who might help him. He who preaches his wisdom. And he has made many people unhappy by it. People believe in him, and want to find the book for themselves, as ardently as a few experimenters in alchemy. They sacrifice everything,—forget all Their work and their happiness, while themselves imprisoned among thick books, and strange implements and contraptions. They put life and health aside, and they forgot the blue sky and this gentle and benevolent nature—and Their kind. Sometimes they also find something important and useful, like gold nuggets thrown from their caves on the clear ground; They dig and dig farther and farther in the darkness without rest. They are not looking for gold, but for small books. The deeper they sink, the farther they are from flowers and light, so the more they hope, the more they hope. Their expectations grew more and more. Some of them became dizzy because of this work, and forgot what they had done, and made troubles until they were troubled. Then the mountain ghost made them childish. People saw how they made sand out of sand. little towers, and calculate how many grains of sand it will take before it falls; they make little waterfalls, and count the eddies and waves that the water makes; The digging is smooth, and there are no small stones. If anyone comes to disturb this stupor at their work, and asks what they are doing, they will look at you solemnly and seriously, and murmur: 'Will know! Will know!'

Yes, everything is the sin of such a hateful mountain ghost!You have to watch out for him, John! " But John gazed across at the swaying and whistling trees; the tender skin wrinkled in his clear childish eyes.He had never gazed so sternly. "And still—you said it yourself—that book exists! Ah, I do know that it also bears that great light that you won't name." "Poor, poor John!" said Xuan'er, his voice like a peaceful chant above the sound of the storm. "Love me, love me with all your being. With me you will find more than you ever hoped for. What you cannot imagine, you will know, and what you wish to know , you shall be yourself. Heaven and earth shall be your confidantes, the stars shall be your fellow-men, and infinity shall be your dwelling place."

"Love me, love me—Hobb embraces me as the vines are to the tree, and the sea is as faithful to me as the earth,—with me alone is peace, John!" Xuan'er's words died down, but they sang like a carol.It floats from afar, regular and majestic, through the blowing and whistling of the wind,—peaceful as the moonlight, that shines through the chasing clouds. Xuan'er stretched out his arms, and John slept on his chest, protected by a small blue cloak. He woke up at night.Silence enveloped the ground suddenly and unknowingly, and the moon had sunk below the horizon.The tired branches hang motionless, silent darkness covers the woods.

And so the question came, followed swiftly and grimly, back at John's head, and dislodged trust that was still young.Why are humans like this?Why should he dump them and fall out of their love?Why is there winter?Why should leaves fall and flowers die?Why?Why? So deep in the jungle, the little blue light danced again.They come and go.John watched them closely.He saw larger bright little lights shining on dark tree trunks.Xuan'er slept soundly and peacefully. "One more question," thought John, and slipped out of his little blue cloak, and went. "Are you here again?" Jiang Zhi said, and nodded sincerely. "I like it very much. Where are your friends?"

"There! I just want to ask. Will you answer me?" "You were among human beings, really? Are you going to handle my secret?" "Who will find that book, you will know?" "Yes, yes! That's exactly that, that's exactly!—will you help me if I tell you?" "If I can, of course!" "Then listen, John!" Jiang Zhi opened his eyes horribly wide and raised his eyebrows even higher than usual.So he stretched his hand forward and said in a low voice, "Humans keep the golden box, and the elf keeps the golden key. The monster enemy can't find it, and the monster friend opens it alone. The spring night is at the right time, and the red cockroach knows it well."

"Is it true, is it true?" cried John, thinking of his little key. "Really!" Jiangzhi said. "Why hasn't anyone got it yet? There are so many people looking for it." "What I have entrusted to you, I have not told a single person, not a single one." "I have, will know! I can help you!" John cheered and clapped his hands. "I'll go ask Xuan'er." He flew back from the berry moss and dead leaves.But he stumbled many times, and his steps were heavy.Thick branches rustled under his feet, usually even the small grass stalks were not bent.

Here was the thick fern, under which he had slept.How small it seemed to him. "Xuan'er!" he called.He was afraid of his own voice. "Xuaner!" It sounded like a human voice, and a timid nightingale yelled and flew away. It was empty under the ferns—John saw nothing. The little blue light disappeared, and all around him was cold and bottomless darkness.He looked ahead and saw the dark shadows of the treetops scattered in the starry night sky. He called again.So he didn't dare anymore.His voice sounded like an arrogance to the quiet nature, a mockery of Xuan'er's name.

Poor little John fell down and sobbed in desperate regret.