Trabalho adicional do grupo EM3. ( Valor 3.5 ) Entrega até o dia 16 de Abril.
Professor Isaac Gonzaga de Oliveira.
Entregar digitalizado (cd) , digitado ( papel) ou via email. (email até às 12:00 / meio dia do dia 16 de Abril) isaac.gonzaga@terra.com.br
Cada dupla deve colocar os dois nomes em seus trabalhos.
Trabalhos escritos à mão deverão ter grafia legível. Caso o mesmo não aconteça, o trabalho não será avaliado.
Descreva o ambiente em que o elfo vivia. ( máximo 3 linhas )
Qual a relação entre a moça e o crime? ( máximo 3 linhas )
O que o elfo sussurava no ouvido da moça? Isso aconteceu somente em uma situação?
( máximo 4 linhas )
Como o irmão da moça a enganou? ( máximo 3 linhas )
Qual a relação entre o jasmim e a moça? ( máximo 3 linhas )
Como a moça morreu? Descreva. ( máximo 4 linhas )
Como as abelhas entraram nessa história e qual a função dessa intervenção da natureza sobre o acontecido? ( máximo 3 linhas )
O que aconteceu com o elfo ao final da história? ( máximo 3 linhas )
Como você classificaria esse conto? ( máximo 3 linhas )
The Elf of The Rose Hans
Christian Andersen
IN the
midst of a garden grew a rose-tree, in full blossom, and in the prettiest of
all the roses lived an elf. He was such a little wee thing, that no human eye
could see him. Behind each leaf of the rose he had a sleeping chamber. He was
as well formed and as beautiful as a little child could be, and had wings that
reached from his shoulders to his feet. Oh, what sweet fragrance there was in
his chambers! and how clean and beautiful were the walls! for they were the
blushing leaves of the rose.
During the whole day he enjoyed himself in
the warm sunshine, flew from flower to flower, and danced on the wings of the
flying butterflies. Then he took it into his head to measure how many steps he
would have to go through the roads and cross-roads that are on the leaf of a
linden-tree. What we call the veins on a leaf, he took for roads; ay, and very
long roads they were for him; for before he had half finished his task, the sun
went down: he had commenced his work too late. It became very cold, the dew fell,
and the wind blew; so he thought the best thing he could do would be to return
home. He hurried himself as much as he could; but he found the roses all closed
up, and he could not get in; not a single rose stood open. The poor little elf
was very much frightened. He had never before been out at night, but had always
slumbered secretly behind the warm rose-leaves. Oh, this would certainly be his
death. At the other end of the garden, he knew there was an arbor, overgrown
with beautiful honey-suckles. The blossoms looked like large painted horns; and
he thought to himself, he would go and sleep in one of these till the morning.
He flew thither; but “hush!” two people were in the arbor,—a handsome young man
and a beautiful lady. They sat side by side, and wished that they might never
be obliged to part. They loved each other much more than the best child can
love its father and mother.
“But we must part,” said the young man;
“your brother does not like our engagement, and therefore he sends me so far
away on business, over mountains and seas. Farewell, my sweet bride; for so you
are to me.”
And then they kissed each other, and the
girl wept, and gave him a rose; but before she did so, she pressed a kiss upon
it so fervently that the flower opened. Then the little elf flew in, and leaned
his head on the delicate, fragrant walls. Here he could plainly hear them say,
“Farewell, farewell;” and he felt that the rose had been placed on the young
man’s breast. Oh, how his heart did beat! The little elf could not go to sleep,
it thumped so loudly. The young man took it out as he walked through the dark
wood alone, and kissed the flower so often and so violently, that the little
elf was almost crushed. He could feel through the leaf how hot the lips of the
young man were, and the rose had opened, as if from the heat of the noonday
sun.
There came another man, who looked gloomy
and wicked. He was the wicked brother of the beautiful maiden. He drew out a
sharp knife, and while the other was kissing the rose, the wicked man stabbed
him to death; then he cut off his head, and buried it with the body in the soft
earth under the linden-tree.
“Now he is gone, and will soon be
forgotten,” thought the wicked brother; “he will never come back again. He was
going on a long journey over mountains and seas; it is easy for a man to lose
his life in such a journey. My sister will suppose he is dead; for he cannot
come back, and she will not dare to question me about him.”
Then he scattered the dry leaves over the
light earth with his foot, and went home through the darkness; but he went not
alone, as he thought,—the little elf accompanied him. He sat in a dry rolled-up
linden-leaf, which had fallen from the tree on to the wicked man’s head, as he
was digging the grave. The hat was on the head now, which made it very dark,
and the little elf shuddered with fright and indignation at the wicked deed.
It was the dawn of morning before the
wicked man reached home; he took off his hat, and went into his sister’s room.
There lay the beautiful, blooming girl, dreaming of him whom she loved so, and
who was now, she supposed, travelling far away over mountain and sea. Her
wicked brother stopped over her, and laughed hideously, as fiends only can
laugh. The dry leaf fell out of his hair upon the counterpane; but he did not
notice it, and went to get a little sleep during the early morning hours. But
the elf slipped out of the withered leaf, placed himself by the ear of the
sleeping girl, and told her, as in a dream, of the horrid murder; described the
place where her brother had slain her lover, and buried his body; and told her
of the linden-tree, in full blossom, that stood close by.
“That you may not think this is only a
dream that I have told you,” he said, “you will find on your bed a withered
leaf.”
Then she awoke, and found it there. Oh,
what bitter tears she shed! and she could not open her heart to any one for
relief.
The window stood open the whole day, and
the little elf could easily have reached the roses, or any of the flowers; but
he could not find it in his heart to leave one so afflicted. In the window
stood a bush bearing monthly roses. He seated himself in one of the flowers,
and gazed on the poor girl. Her brother often came into the room, and would be
quite cheerful, in spite of his base conduct; so she dare not say a word to him
of her heart’s grief.
As soon as night came on, she slipped out
of the house, and went into the wood, to the spot where the linden-tree stood;
and after removing the leaves from the earth, she turned it up, and there found
him who had been murdered. Oh, how she wept and prayed that she also might die!
Gladly would she have taken the body home with her; but that was impossible; so
she took up the poor head with the closed eyes, kissed the cold lips, and shook
the mould out of the beautiful hair.
“I will keep this,” said she; and as soon
as she had covered the body again with the earth and leaves, she took the head
and a little sprig of jasmine that bloomed in the wood, near the spot where he
was buried, and carried them home with her. As soon as she was in her room, she
took the largest flower-pot she could find, and in this she placed the head of
the dead man, covered it up with earth, and planted the twig of jasmine in it.
“Farewell, farewell,” whispered the little
elf. He could not any longer endure to witness all this agony of grief, he
therefore flew away to his own rose in the garden. But the rose was faded; only
a few dry leaves still clung to the green hedge behind it.
“Alas! how soon all that is good and
beautiful passes away,” sighed the elf.
After a while he found another rose, which
became his home, for among its delicate fragrant leaves he could dwell in
safety. Every morning he flew to the window of the poor girl, and always found
her weeping by the flower pot. The bitter tears fell upon the jasmine twig, and
each day, as she became paler and paler, the sprig appeared to grow greener and
fresher. One shoot after another sprouted forth, and little white buds
blossomed, which the poor girl fondly kissed. But her wicked brother scolded
her, and asked her if she was going mad. He could not imagine why she was
weeping over that flower-pot, and it annoyed him. He did not know whose closed
eyes were there, nor what red lips were fading beneath the earth. And one day
she sat and leaned her head against the flower-pot, and the little elf of the
rose found her asleep. Then he seated himself by her ear, talked to her of that
evening in the arbor, of the sweet perfume of the rose, and the loves of the elves.
Sweetly she dreamed, and while she dreamt, her life passed away calmly and
gently, and her spirit was with him whom she loved, in heaven. And the jasmine
opened its large white bells, and spread forth its sweet fragrance; it had no
other way of showing its grief for the dead. But the wicked brother considered
the beautiful blooming plant as his own property, left to him by his sister,
and he placed it in his sleeping room, close by his bed, for it was very lovely
in appearance, and the fragrance sweet and delightful. The little elf of the
rose followed it, and flew from flower to flower, telling each little spirit
that dwelt in them the story of the murdered young man, whose head now formed
part of the earth beneath them, and of the wicked brother and the poor sister.
“We know it,” said each little spirit in the flowers, “we know it, for have we
not sprung from the eyes and lips of the murdered one. We know it, we know it,”
and the flowers nodded with their heads in a peculiar manner. The elf of the rose
could not understand how they could rest so quietly in the matter, so he flew
to the bees, who were gathering honey, and told them of the wicked brother. And
the bees told it to their queen, who commanded that the next morning they
should go and kill the murderer. But during the night, the first after the
sister’s death, while the brother was sleeping in his bed, close to where he
had placed the fragrant jasmine, every flower cup opened, and invisibly the
little spirits stole out, armed with poisonous spears. They placed themselves
by the ear of the sleeper, told him dreadful dreams and then flew across his
lips, and pricked his tongue with their poisoned spears. “Now have we revenged
the dead,” said they, and flew back into the white bells of the jasmine
flowers. When the morning came, and as soon as the window was opened, the rose
elf, with the queen bee, and the whole swarm of bees, rushed in to kill him.
But he was already dead. People were standing round the bed, and saying that
the scent of the jasmine had killed him. Then the elf of the rose understood
the revenge of the flowers, and explained it to the queen bee, and she, with
the whole swarm, buzzed about the flower-pot. The bees could not be driven
away. Then a man took it up to remove it, and one of the bees stung him in the
hand, so that he let the flower-pot fall, and it was broken to pieces. Then
every one saw the whitened skull, and they knew the dead man in the bed was a
murderer. And the queen bee hummed in the air, and sang of the revenge of the
flowers, and of the elf of the rose and said that behind the smallest leaf
dwells One, who can discover evil deeds, and punish them also.
