Resource 3: Extract from a story

This is an extract from The Happy Prince by Oscar Wilde.

‘Why are you weeping then?’ asked the swallow. ‘You have quite drenched me.’

‘When I was alive and had a human heart,’ answered the statue, ‘I did not know what tears were, for I lived in the Palace, where sorrow is not allowed to enter. My courtiers called me the Happy Prince, and happy indeed I was. So I lived, and so I died. And now that I am dead they have set me up here so high that I can see the ugliness and all the misery of my city, and though my heart is made of lead yet I cannot choose but weep.’

‘What! Is he not solid gold?’ said the swallow to himself. He was too polite to make any personal remarks.

‘Far away,’ continued the statue in a low musical voice, ‘far away in a little street there is a poor house. One of the windows is open, and through it I can see a woman seated at a table. Her face is thin and worn, and she has coarse, red hands, all pricked by the needle, for she is a seamstress. She is embroidering flowers on a satin gown for the loveliest of the Queen’s maids of honour, to wear at the next Court ball. In a bed in the corner of the room her little boy is lying ill. He has a fever, and is asking his mother to give him oranges. His mother has nothing to give him but river water, so he is crying. Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, will you not bring her the ruby out of my sword hilt? My feet are fastened to this pedestal and I cannot move.’

‘I am waited for in Egypt,’ said the swallow. ‘My friends are flying up and down the Nile, and talking to the large lotus flowers. Soon they will go to sleep.’

The Prince asked the swallow to stay with him for one night and be his messenger. ‘The boy is so thirsty, and the mother so sad,’ he said.

‘I don’t think I like boys,’ answered the swallow. ‘I want to go to Egypt.’

But the Happy Prince looked so sad that the little swallow was sorry. ‘It is very cold here,’ he said. But he agreed to stay with him for one night and be his messenger.

‘Thank you, little Swallow,’ said the Prince.

The swallow picked out the great ruby from the Prince’s sword, and flew away with it in his beak over the roofs of the town. He passed by the cathedral tower, where the white marble angels were sculptured. He passed by the palace and heard the sound of dancing. A beautiful girl came out on the balcony with her lover.

‘I hope my dress will be ready in time for the State ball,’ she said. ‘I have ordered flowers to be embroidered on it, but the seamstresses are so lazy.’

He passed over the river, and saw the lanterns hanging on the masts of the ships. At last he came to the poor woman’s house and looked in. The boy was tossing feverishly on his bed, and the mother had fallen asleep, she was so tired. In he hopped, and laid the great ruby on the table beside the woman’s thimble. Then he flew gently round the bed, fanning the boy’s forehead with his wings. ‘How cool I feel!’ said the boy, ‘I must be getting better;’ and he sank into a delicious slumber.

Then the swallow flew back to the Happy Prince, and told him what he had done. ‘It is curious,’ he remarked, ‘but I feel quite warm now, although it is so cold.’

‘That is because you have done a good action,’ said the Prince.

And the little swallow began to think, and then fell asleep. Thinking always made him sleepy.

When day broke he flew down to the river and had a bath.

‘Tonight I go to Egypt,’ said the swallow, and he was in high spirits at the prospect. He visited all the monuments and sat a long time on top of the church steeple. When the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince.

‘Have you any commissions for Egypt?’ he cried. ‘I am just starting.’

‘Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,’ said the Prince, ‘will you stay with me one night longer?’

‘I am waited for in Egypt,’ answered the swallow.

‘Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,’ said the Prince, ‘far away across the city I see a young man in a garret. He is leaning over a desk covered with papers, and in the glass by his side there is a bunch of withered violets. His hair is brown and crisp, and his lips are red as a pomegranate, and he has large and dreamy eyes.

He is trying to finish a play for the Director of the Theatre, but he is too cold to write any more. There is no fire in the grate, and hunger has made him faint.’

‘I will wait with you one night longer,’ said the swallow, who really had a good heart. He asked if he should take another ruby to the young playwright.

‘Alas! I have no ruby now,’ said the Prince. ‘My eyes are all that I have left. They are made of rare sapphires, which were brought out of India a thousand years ago.’ He ordered the swallow to pluck out one of them and take it to the playwright. ‘He will sell it to the jeweller, and buy firewood, and finish his play,’ he said.

‘Dear Prince,’ said the swallow, ‘I cannot do that,’ and he began to weep.

‘Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,’ said the Prince, ‘do as I command you.’

So the swallow plucked out the Prince’s eye, and flew away to the young man’s garret. It was easy enough to get in, as there was a hole in the roof. Through this he darted, and came into the room. The young man had his head buried in his hands, so he did not hear the flutter of the bird’s wings, and when he looked up he found the beautiful sapphire lying on the withered violets.

‘I am beginning to be appreciated,’ he cried. ‘This is from some great admirer. Now I can finish my play,’ and he looked quite happy.