The Collected Works of L. Frank Baum (Illustrated). L. Frank Baum
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Название: The Collected Works of L. Frank Baum (Illustrated)
Автор: L. Frank Baum
Издательство: Bookwire
Жанр: Языкознание
isbn: 9788075832320
isbn:
“No; I am quite proud of my person,” was the reply. “I suppose I am the only Crooked Magician in all the world. Some others are accused of being crooked, but I am the only genuine.”
He was really very crooked and Ojo wondered how he managed to do so many things with such a twisted body. When he sat down upon a crooked chair that had been made to fit him, one knee was under his chin and the other near the small of his back; but he was a cheerful man and his face bore a pleasant and agreeable expression.
“I am not allowed to perform magic, except for my own amusement,” he told his visitors, as he lighted a pipe with a crooked stem and began to smoke. “Too many people were working magic in the Land of Oz, and so our lovely Princess Ozma put a stop to it. I think she was quite right. There were several wicked Witches who caused a lot of trouble; but now they are all out of business and only the great Sorceress, Glinda the Good, is permitted to practice her arts, which never harm anybody. The Wizard of Oz, who used to be a humbug and knew no magic at all, has been taking lessons of Glinda, and I’m told he is getting to be a pretty good Wizard; but he is merely the assistant of the great Sorceress. I’ve the right to make a servant girl for my wife, you know, or a Glass Cat to catch our mice—which she refuses to do—but I am forbidden to work magic for others, or to use it as a profession.”
“Magic must be a very interesting study,” said Ojo.
“It truly is,” asserted the Magician. “In my time I’ve performed some magical feats that were worthy of the skill of Glinda the Good. For instance, there’s the Powder of Life, and my Liquid of Petrifaction, which is contained in that bottle on the shelf yonder—over the window.”
“What does the Liquid of Petrifaction do?” inquired the boy.
“Turns everything it touches to solid marble. It’s an invention of my own, and I find it very useful. Once two of those dreadful Kalidahs, with bodies like bears and heads like tigers, came here from the forest to attack us; but I sprinkled some of that Liquid on them and instantly they turned to marble. I now use them as ornamental statuary in my garden. This table looks to you like wood, and once it really was wood; but I sprinkled a few drops of the Liquid of Petrifaction on it and now it is marble. It will never break nor wear out.”
“Fine!” said Unc Nunkie, wagging his head and stroking his long gray beard.
“Dear me; what a chatterbox you’re getting to be, Unc,” remarked the Magician, who was pleased with the compliment. But just then there came a scratching at the back door and a shrill voice cried:
“Let me in! Hurry up, can’t you? Let me in!”
Margolotte got up and went to the door.
“Ask like a good cat, then,” she said.
“Mee-ee-ow-w-w! There; does that suit your royal highness?” asked the voice, in scornful accents.
“Yes; that’s proper cat talk,” declared the woman, and opened the door.
At once a cat entered, came to the center of the room and stopped short at the sight of strangers. Ojo and Unc Nunkie both stared at it with wide open eyes, for surely no such curious creature had ever existed before—even in the Land of Oz.
4. The Glass Cat
The cat was made of glass, so clear and transparent that you could see through it as easily as through a window. In the top of its head, however, was a mass of delicate pink balls which looked like jewels, and it had a heart made of a blood-red ruby. The eyes were two large emeralds, but aside from these colors all the rest of the animal was clear glass, and it had a spun-glass tail that was really beautiful.
“Well, Doc Pipt, do you mean to introduce us, or not?” demanded the cat, in a tone of annoyance. “Seems to me you are forgetting your manners.”
“Excuse me,” returned the Magician. “This is Unc Nunkie, the descendant of the former kings of the Munchkins, before this country became a part of the Land of Oz.”
“He needs a haircut,” observed the cat, washing its face.
“True,” replied Unc, with a low chuckle of amusement.
“But he has lived alone in the heart of the forest for many years,” the Magician explained; “and, although that is a barbarous country, there are no barbers there.”
“Who is the dwarf?” asked the cat.
“That is not a dwarf, but a boy,” answered the Magician. “You have never seen a boy before. He is now small because he is young. With more years he will grow big and become as tall as Unc Nunkie.”
“Oh. Is that magic?” the glass animal inquired.
“Yes; but it is Nature’s magic, which is more wonderful than any art known to man. For instance, my magic made you, and made you live; and it was a poor job because you are useless and a bother to me; but I can’t make you grow. You will always be the same size—and the same saucy, inconsiderate Glass Cat, with pink brains and a hard ruby heart.”
“No one can regret more than I the fact that you made me,” asserted the cat, crouching upon the floor and slowly swaying its spun-glass tail from side to side. “Your world is a very uninteresting place. I’ve wandered through your gardens and in the forest until I’m tired of it all, and when I come into the house the conversation of your fat wife and of yourself bores me dreadfully.”
“That is because I gave you different brains from those we ourselves possess—and much too good for a cat,” returned Dr. Pipt.
“Can’t you take ‘em out, then, and replace ‘em with pebbles, so that I won’t feel above my station in life?” asked the cat, pleadingly.
“Perhaps so. I’ll try it, after I’ve brought the Patchwork Girl to life,” he said.
The cat walked up to the bench on which the Patchwork Girl reclined and looked at her attentively.
“Are you going to make that dreadful thing live?” she asked.
The Magician nodded.
“It is intended to be my wife’s servant maid,” he said. “When she is alive she will do all our work and mind the house. But you are not to order her around, Bungle, as you do us. You must treat the Patchwork Girl respectfully.”
“I won’t. I couldn’t respect such a bundle of scraps under any circumstances.”
“If you don’t, there will be more scraps than you will like,” cried Margolotte, angrily.
“Why didn’t you make her pretty to look at?” asked the cat. “You made me pretty—very pretty, indeed—and I love to watch my pink brains roll around when they’re working, and to see my precious red heart beat.” She went to a long mirror, as she said this, and stood before it, looking at herself with an air of much pride. “But that poor patched thing will hate herself, when she’s once alive,” continued the cat. “If I were you I’d use her for a mop, and make another servant that is prettier.”
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