Prevod

There was a real student who lived in the attic and owned nothing; there was a real grocer who lived on the ground floor and owned the whole house, and it was to him that the goblin attached himself, for here, every Christmas Eve, he was given a dish of porridge with a great lump of butter in it! The grocer could afford that; and the goblin stayed in the shop, where there was a great deal to be learned.

One evening the student came in through the back door to buy himself candles and cheese; he had no one to send, so he came himself. He was given what he asked for, paid for it, and received a nod of “good evening” from the grocer and his wife, who was a woman who could do more than nod—she had the gift of speech! The student nodded in return, then stood still, absorbed in reading the sheet of paper wrapped round his cheese. It was a leaf torn from an old book that ought never to have been torn apart, an old book full of poetry.

“There’s more of that over there!” said the grocer. “I gave an old woman some coffee beans for it. If you’ll give me eight skilling, you can have the rest!”

“Thank you,” said the student. “Let me have it instead of the cheese! I can eat my bread and butter plain! It would be a sin to tear the whole book to bits. You are a splendid man, a practical man, but you understand no more about poetry than that tub!”

Now that was a rude thing to say, especially to the tub, but the grocer laughed and the student laughed; after all, it had been said as a sort of joke. But the goblin was indignant that anyone should dare speak like that to a grocer who owned the house and sold the very best butter.

When night came, the shop was shut, and everyone was in bed except the student, the goblin went in and took the grocer’s wife’s tongue—she had no use for it while she slept—and whatever object in the room he put it on gained the power of speech and could express its thoughts and feelings just as well as the wife herself. But only one thing at a time could have it, which was a blessing, for otherwise they would all have talked at once.

The goblin put the tongue on the tub where the old newspapers were kept. “Is it really true,” he asked, “that you don’t know what poetry is?” “Of course I know,” said the tub. “It’s the sort of thing that appears at the bottom of newspapers and gets cut out! I should think I have more of it inside me than the student does, and I’m only a humble tub compared with the grocer!”

Then the goblin put the tongue on the coffee mill, and my, how it went on! He put it on the butter cask and the cash drawer too; they all agreed with the tub, and an opinion held by the majority must be respected.

“Now I’ll give that student a piece of my mind!” And the goblin crept very quietly up the back stairs to the attic where the student lived. There was a light inside, and the goblin peeped through the keyhole and saw the student reading the tattered book from downstairs. But what a light there was in that room! A bright ray rose from the book and became a trunk, a mighty tree that soared high and spread its branches far above the student. Every leaf was fresh, and every flower was a lovely girl’s face, some with eyes so dark and shining, others with eyes so blue and wonderfully clear. Every fruit was a gleaming star, and there was singing and music of wonderful beauty!

No, the little goblin had never imagined such splendour, let alone seen or felt it. He stood on tiptoe, peeping and peeping, until the light inside went out. The student must have blown out his lamp and gone to bed, but the little goblin stayed where he was, for the song still sounded, so soft and lovely, a sweet lullaby for the student as he lay down to rest.

“This is beyond compare!” said the little goblin. “I never expected it! I think I shall stay with the student!” And he thought—and thought sensibly—and then he sighed. “The student has no porridge!” So off he went—yes, down he went again to the grocer. It was just as well he came, for the tub had almost worn out the wife’s tongue by reciting everything it contained from one end to the other, and was just about to turn round and give it all again from the other end when the goblin came and took the tongue back to its owner. But from that day on the whole shop, from the cash drawer to the kindling, shared the tub’s opinions, and they respected it so deeply and credited it with so much that whenever the grocer read the “Art and Theatre Reviews” from his evening paper, they thought they came from the tub.

But the little goblin no longer sat quietly listening to all the wisdom and good sense downstairs. No, as soon as the light shone from the attic room, its rays seemed like stout anchor ropes drawing him up, and he had to go and peep through the keyhole. There a grandeur swept over him like the grandeur we feel beside the rolling sea when God passes over it in the storm, and he burst into tears. He did not know why he wept, but there was something so blessed in those tears! How incomparably lovely it must be to sit with the student beneath that tree! But that could not be; he was content with the keyhole. There he still stood in the cold passage when the autumn wind blew down through the attic hatch, and it was so cold, so very cold; but the little fellow only felt it when the light in the attic room went out and the music died away in the wind. Brr! Then he shivered and crept back down to his warm corner, where all was snug and comfortable! And when the Christmas porridge came with a great lump of butter—why, then the grocer was master!

But in the middle of the night the goblin woke to a dreadful clatter at the shutters; people outside were hammering on them. The watchman blew his whistle: a great fire had broken out, and the whole street was ablaze with light. Was it in this house, or next door? Where? What a fright it was! The grocer’s wife was so flustered that she took her gold earrings out of her ears and put them in her pocket, so as to save something at least. The grocer ran for his bonds, and the maid for her silk mantilla, which she had managed to afford. Everyone wanted to save what they prized most, and so did the little goblin. In a couple of bounds he was up the stairs and in the student’s room, where the student stood quite calmly at the open window, looking out at the fire in the courtyard across the street. The little goblin snatched the wonderful book from the table, slipped it into his red cap, and held it fast with both hands. The finest treasure in the house was saved! Then off he sped, right out onto the roof and right up onto the chimney, where he sat in the glow of the burning house opposite, clutching with both hands his red cap with the treasure inside it. Now he knew his own heart, knew where he truly belonged. But when the fire was out and he had come to his senses—well, “I shall divide myself between them!” he said. “I can’t give up the grocer altogether, because of the porridge!”

And that was thoroughly human! The rest of us go to the grocer too—for the porridge.