Oscar Wilde
The Selfish Giant
Every afternoon, as they were coming from school, the children used to go and play in the Giant's garden.
It was a large lovely garden, with soft green grass. Here and there over the grass stood beautiful flowers like stars, and there were twelve peach-trees that in the spring-time broke out into delicate blossoms of pink and pearl, and in the autumn bore rich fruit.
The birds sat on the trees and sang so sweetly that the children used to stop their games in order to listen to them. «How happy we are here!» they cried to each other.
One day the Giant came back. He had been to visit his friend the Cornish ogre, and had stayed with him for seven years. After the seven years were over he had said all that he had to say, for his conversation was limited, and he determined to return to his own castle.
When he arrived he saw the children playing in the garden.
«What are you doing here?» he cried in a very gruff voice, and the children ran away.
«My own garden is my own garden,» said the Giant; «any one can understand that, and I will allow nobody to play in it but myself.»
So he built a high wall all round it, and put up a notice-board.
TRESPASSERS
WILL BE
PROSECUTED
He was a very selfish Giant.
The poor children had now nowhere to play. They tried to play on the road, but the road was very dusty and full of hard stones, and they did not like it.
They used to wander round the high wall when their lessons were over, and talk about the beautiful garden inside.
«How happy we were there,» they said to each other.
Then the Spring came, and all over the country there were little blossoms and little birds. Only in the garden of the Selfish Giant it was still winter.
The birds did not care to sing in it as there were no children, and the trees forgot to blossom.
Once a beautiful flower put its head out from the grass, but when it saw the notice-board it was so sorry for the children that it slipped back into the ground again, and went off to sleep.
The only people who were pleased were the Snow and the Frost.
«Spring has forgotten this garden,» they cried, «so we will live here all the year round.»
The Snow covered up the grass with her great white cloak, and the Frost painted all the trees silver.
Then they invited the North Wind to stay with them, and he came. He was wrapped in furs, and he roared all day about the garden, and blew the chimney-pots down.
«This is a delightful spot,» he said, «we must ask the Hail on a visit.»
So the Hail came. Every day for three hours he rattled on the roof of the castle till he broke most of the slates, and then he ran round and round the garden as fast as he could go. He was dressed in grey, and his breath was like ice.
«I cannot understand why the Spring is so late in coming,» said the Selfish Giant, as he sat at the window and looked out at his cold white garden; «I hope there will be a change in the weather.»
But the Spring never came, nor the Summer.
The Autumn gave golden fruit to every garden, but to the Giant's garden she gave none. «He is too selfish,» she said.
So it was always Winter there, and the North Wind, and the Hail, and the Frost, and the Snow danced about through the trees.
One morning the Giant was lying awake in bed when he heard some lovely music.
It sounded so sweet to his ears that he thought it must be the King's musicians passing by. It was really only a little linnet singing outside his window, but it was so long since he had heard a bird sing in his garden that it seemed to him to be the most beautiful music in the world.
Then the Hail stopped dancing over his head, and the North Wind ceased roaring, and a delicious perfume came to him through the open casement.
«I believe the Spring has come at last,» said the Giant; and he jumped out of bed and looked out.
What did he see?
He saw a most wonderful sight. Through a little hole in the wall the children had crept in, and they were sitting in the branches of the trees. In every tree that he could see there was a little child. And the trees were so glad to have the children back again that they had covered themselves with blossoms, and were waving their arms gently above the children's heads.
The birds were flying about and twittering with delight, and the flowers were looking up through the green grass and laughing.
It was a lovely scene, only in one corner it was still winter. It was the farthest corner of the garden, and in it was standing a little boy. He was so small that he could not reach up to the branches of the tree, and he was wandering all round it, crying bitterly.
The poor tree was still quite covered with frost and snow, and the North Wind was blowing and roaring above it. «Climb up! little boy,» said the Tree, and it bent its branches down as low as it could; but the boy was too tiny.
And the Giant's heart melted as he looked out.
«How selfish I have been!» he said; «now I know why the Spring would not come here. I will put that poor little boy on the top of the tree, and then I will knock down the wall, and my garden shall be the children's playground for ever and ever.»
He was really very sorry for what he had done.
So he crept downstairs and opened the front door quite softly, and went out into the garden.
But when the children saw him they were so frightened that they all ran away, and the garden became winter again. Only the little boy did not run, for his eyes were so full of tears that he did not see the Giant coming.
And the Giant stole up behind him and took him gently in his hand, and put him up into the tree. And the tree broke at once into blossom, and the birds came and sang on it, and the little boy stretched out his two arms and flung them round the Giant's neck, and kissed him.
And the other children, when they saw that the Giant was not wicked any longer, came running back, and with them came the Spring. «It is your garden now, little children,» said the Giant, and he took a great axe and knocked down the wall.
And when the people were going to market at twelve o'clock they found the Giant playing with the children in the most beautiful garden they had ever seen.
All day long they played, and in the evening they came to the Giant to bid him good-bye.
«But where is your little companion?» he said: «the boy I put into the tree.» The Giant loved him the best because he had kissed him.
«We don't know,» answered the children; «he has gone away.»
«You must tell him to be sure and come here to-morrow,» said the Giant.
But the children said that they did not know where he lived, and had never seen him before; and the Giant felt very sad.
Every afternoon, when school was over, the children came and played with the Giant. But the little boy whom the Giant loved was never seen again. The Giant was very kind to all the children, yet he longed for his first little friend, and often spoke of him. «How I would like to see him!» he used to say.
Years went over, and the Giant grew very old and feeble. He could not play about any more, so he sat in a huge armchair, and watched the children at their games, and admired his garden. «I have many beautiful flowers,» he said; «but the children are the most beautiful flowers of all.»
One winter morning he looked out of his window as he was dressing. He did not hate the Winter now, for he knew that it was merely the Spring asleep, and that the flowers were resting.
Suddenly he rubbed his eyes in wonder, and looked and looked. It certainly was a marvellous sight. In the farthest corner of the garden was a tree quite covered with lovely white blossoms. Its branches were all golden, and silver fruit hung down from them, and underneath it stood the little boy he had loved.
Downstairs ran the Giant in great joy, and out into the garden. He hastened across the grass, and came near to the child. And when he came quite close his face grew red with anger, and he said, «Who hath dared to wound thee?» For on the palms of the child's hands were the prints of two nails, and the prints of two nails were on the little feet.
«Who hath dared to wound thee?» cried the Giant; «tell me, that I may take my big sword and slay him.»
«Nay!» answered the child; «but these are the wounds of Love.»
«Who art thou?» said the Giant, and a strange awe fell on him, and he knelt before the little child.
And the child smiled on the Giant, and said to him, «You let me play once in your garden, to-day you shall come with me to my garden, which is Paradise.»
And when the children ran in that afternoon, they found the Giant lying dead under the tree, all covered with white blossoms.
Όσκαρ Ουάιλντ
Ο εγωιστής γίγαντας
Κάθε ἀπόγευμα, φεύγοντας ἀπ᾿ τὸ σχολεῖο, τὰ παιδιὰ τὸ ῾χαν συνήθεια νὰ παίζουν στὸν κῆπο τοῦ γίγαντα.
Ἦταν ἕνας πελώριος, μαγευτικὸς κῆπος, μ᾿ ἁπαλὴ πράσινη χλόη καὶ χιλιάδες πολύχρωμα λουλούδια ὅμοια μ᾿ ἀστέρια κι ἀκόμα, ἐδῶ κι ἐκεῖ, δώδεκα ροδακινιὲς φορτωμένες ρόδινα κι ὁλόλευκα ντελικάτα ἀνθάκια ἀπ᾿ τῆς ἄνοιξης τ᾿ ἄγγιγμα, ποὺ τὸ φθινόπωρο βάραιναν ἀπ᾿ τὰ πολύχυμα φροῦτα.
Τὰ πουλιὰ κάθονταν στὰ δέντρα καὶ κελαηδοῦσαν τόσο γλυκά, ποὺ τὰ παιδιὰ σταματοῦσαν τὸ παιχνίδι γιὰ νὰ τ᾿ ἀκούσουν. «Πόσο εὐτυχισμένα εἴμαστε ἐδῶ!» ἔλεγαν ἀναμεταξύ τους.
Κάποια μέρα ὁ γίγαντας γύρισε. Ἑφτὰ ὁλόκερα χρόνια ἦταν σ᾿ ἐπίσκεψη, στὸ φίλο του τὸ δράκο τῆς Κόρνις, κι ὅταν τὰ χρόνια πέρασαν κι ἐκεῖνος εἶχε τελειώσει ὅ,τι εἶχε νὰ πεῖ -ἀφοῦ δὲν εἶχε καὶ πολλὰ νὰ συζητήσει- ἀποφάσισε τὸ γυρισμὸ στὸ κάστρο.
Τὴν ὥρα πού ῾φτασε, ἀντίκρισε τὰ παιδιὰ νὰ παίζουν στὸν κῆπο.
«Τί δουλειὰ ἔχετε ἐδῶ;» φώναξε μ᾿ ὀργή, καὶ τὰ παιδιὰ τό ῾βαλαν στὰ πόδια τρομαγμένα.
«Ὁ κῆπος εἶναι μοναχὰ δικός μου», εἶπε ὁ γίγαντας. «Ὅλοι μποροῦν νὰ τὸ καταλάβουν, καὶ δὲν θὰ ἐπιτρέψω σὲ κανένα νὰ παίζει ἐδῶ, ἐκτὸς ἀπὸ μένα».
Κι ἔτσι, ἔχτισε ἕναν πελώριο τοῖχο ὁλόγυρα στὸν κῆπο, κι ὕστερα, κάρφωσε μία πινακίδα πού ῾λεγε:
ΟΙ ΠΑΡΑΒΑΤΕΣ
ΘΑ
ΤΙΜΩΡΟΥΝΤΑΙ
Ἦταν, ἀλήθεια, ἕνας πολὺ σκληρόκαρδος γίγαντας.ΘΑ
ΤΙΜΩΡΟΥΝΤΑΙ
Τὰ δύστυχα τὰ παιδιὰ τώρα δὲν εἶχαν μέρος νὰ παίξουν. Δοκίμασαν νὰ παίξουν στὸ δρόμο, ὅμως ἦταν γεμάτος σκόνη καὶ στουρναρόπετρες καὶ δὲν τοὺς ἄρεσε.
Βάλθηκαν τότε νὰ περιπλανιοῦνται γύρω ἀπ᾿ τοὺς ψηλοὺς τοίχους, ὅταν τέλειωναν τὰ μαθήματά τους, νοσταλγώντας τὸν ὄμορφο κῆπο.
«Πόσο εὐτυχισμένα ἤμασταν ἐκεῖ», ἔλεγαν ἀναμεταξύ τους.
Κι ὕστερα ἦρθε ἡ ἄνοιξη. Ἡ ἐξοχὴ γιόμισε ἀπὸ μικρὰ μπουμπούκια καὶ πουλάκια. Μονάχα στὸν κῆπο τοῦ Σκληρόκαρδου Γίγαντα ἦταν ἀκόμα χειμώνας.
Τὰ πουλιὰ οὔτε ποὺ νοιάστηκαν νὰ τραγουδήσουν γιὰ ῾κεῖνον, ἀφοῦ δὲν ὑπῆρχαν παιδιὰ ἐκεῖ, καὶ τὰ δέντρα λησμόνησαν ν᾿ ἀνθίσουν.
Ἂν καμιὰ φορὰ κανένα ὄμορφο λουλουδάκι ἔβγαζε τὸ κεφαλάκι του ἀπ᾿ τὸ γρασίδι, μόλις ἀντίκριζε τὴν πινακίδα ἔνιωθε τέτοια λύπη γιὰ τὰ παιδιά, ποὺ λούφαζε ξανὰ στὸ χῶμα, συνεχίζοντας τὸν ὕπνο του.
Οἱ μόνοι πού ῾ταν εὐχαριστημένοι ἀπ᾿ αὐτὴ τὴν κατάσταση ἦταν τὸ χιόνι καὶ ἡ παγωνιά.
«Ἡ ἄνοιξη λησμόνησε αὐτὸ τὸν κῆπο», ἔλεγαν, «κι ἔτσι ἐμεῖς θὰ μείνουμε ἐδῶ ὅλο τὸ χρόνο».
Τὸ χιόνι τύλιξε τὸ γρασίδι μὲ τὸν ὁλόλευκο μανδύα του κι ἡ παγωνιὰ μπογιάτισε ὅλα τὰ δέντρα ἀσημένια.
Ὕστερα προσκάλεσαν καὶ τὸ Βόρειο Ἄνεμο νά ῾ρθει νὰ μείνει μαζί τους κι ἐκεῖνος ἦρθε τυλιγμένος μὲ βαριὰ γουναρικά. Ὁλημερὶς οὔρλιαζε πάνω ἀπ᾿ τὸν κῆπο καὶ φύσαγε μὲς στὶς καμινάδες.
«Μὰ τοῦτο εἶναι ἕνα θαυμάσιο μέρος», ἔλεγε- «πρέπει νὰ καλέσουμε καὶ τὸ χαλάζι».
Κι ἔτσι, τὸ χαλάζι, ντυμένο στὰ γκρίζα καὶ μ᾿ ἀνάσα ὅμοια μὲ πάγο, ἦρθε. Κάθε μέρα, γιὰ τρεῖς ὦρες, χοροπηδοῦσε πάνω στὴ στέγη τοῦ κάστρου, μέχρι ποὺ τὰ περισσότερα κεραμίδια ράγισαν, κι ὕστερα, γυρνοβόλαγε στὸν κῆπο, ὅσο πιὸ γρήγορα μποροῦσε.
«Δὲν μπορῶ νὰ καταλάβω γιατὶ ἡ ἄνοιξη ἄργησε νά ῾ρθει», συλλογιζόταν ὁ Σκληρόκαρδος Γίγαντας, καθὼς γερμένος στὸ παράθυρο, κοιτοῦσε τὸν παγωμένο, ὁλόλευκο κῆπο.
«Ἐλπίζω νὰ φτιάξει ὁ καιρός»...
Ὅμως ἡ ἄνοιξη δὲν ἦρθε ποτέ, μήτε τὸ καλοκαίρι.
Κι ἔτσι ἦταν πάντα χειμώνας ἐκεῖ κι ὁ Βόρειος Ἄνεμος καὶ τὸ χαλάζι καὶ τὸ χιόνι κι ἡ παγωνιὰ ἀσταμάτητα χόρευαν ἀνάμεσα στὰ δέντρα.
Κάποιο πρωινό, ὁ Γίγαντας ἦταν ξαπλωμένος στὸ κρεβάτι του μ᾿ ἀνοιχτὰ μάτια, ὅταν ἄκουσε μία θεσπέσια μουσική.
Ἠχοῦσε τόσο γλυκὰ στ᾿ αὐτιά του ποὺ πίστεψε πὼς μᾶλλον θά ῾ταν οἱ μουσικοὶ τοῦ βασιλιᾶ ποὺ πέρναγαν -κι ὅμως, ἦταν μονάχα ἕνας μικρούλης σπίνος ποὺ τραγουδοῦσε ἔξω ἀπ᾿ τὸ παραθύρι του. Μὰ εἶχε κυλήσει τόσο πολὺς καιρὸς ἀπὸ τότε ποὺ τὸ στερνὸ τιτίβισμα εἶχε ἀκουστεῖ στὸν κῆπο του, ποὺ θάρρεψε πὼς ἦταν ἡ ὀμορφότερη μουσικὴ στὸν κόσμο.
Κι ἄξαφνα, τὸ χαλάζι σταμάτησε τὸ χορό του πάνω ἀπ᾿ τὸ κεφάλι τοῦ γίγαντα, ὁ Βόρειος Ἄνεμος ἔπαψε νὰ βρυχᾶται, καὶ μία μεθυστικὴ εὐωδιὰ τὸν τύλιξε, περνώντας ἀπ᾿ τ᾿ ἀνοιχτὸ παραθυρόφυλλο.
«Θαρρῶ πῶς ἡ ἄνοιξη ἐπιτέλους ἔφτασε», εἶπε ὁ Γίγαντας καὶ πηδώντας ἀπὸ τὸ κρεβάτι κοίταξε ἔξω.
Μὰ τί ἦταν αὐτὸ πού ῾πνιξε τὴ ματιά του;
Ἦταν ἡ πιὸ μαγευτικὴ εἰκόνα. Ἀπὸ ἕνα ἄνοιγμα στὸν τοῖχο, τὰ παιδιὰ σύρθηκαν μέσα καὶ σκαρφάλωσαν στὰ μπράτσα τῶν δέντρων. Σὲ κάθε δέντρο ποὺ ἀγκάλιαζε τὸ μάτι του ἀντίκριζε κι ἕνα παιδάκι. Καὶ τὰ δέντρα πετάριζαν ἀπὸ χαρὰ γιὰ τὰ παιδιὰ ποὺ γύρισαν, κι ἔτσι ντύθηκαν μὲ λουλούδια καὶ λύγιζαν τὰ μπράτσα τους ἁπαλά, πάνω ἀπὸ τὰ παιδικὰ κεφαλάκια.
Τὰ πουλιὰ φτερούγιζαν ὁλόγυρα τιτιβίζοντας μαγευτικὰ καὶ τὰ λουλούδια κρυφοκοίταζαν μέσ᾿ ἀπὸ τὴν πράσινη χλόη καὶ ξεκαρδίζονταν στὰ γέλια.
Ἦταν μία ὄμορφη εἰκόνα, μὰ ὅμως στὴν ἄκρη της κρατοῦσε ἀκόμα ὁ χειμώνας. Ἦταν ποὺ στὴν πιὸ ἀπόμερη γωνιὰ τοῦ κήπου, στέκονταν ἕνα μικρὸ ἀγόρι. Κι ἦταν τόσο μικρὸ ποὺ μήτε τὰ κλαδιὰ τοῦ δέντρου δὲν μπόραγε νὰ φτάσει, ἔτσι ποὺ ἀπελπισμένο βάλθηκε νὰ κόβει βόλτες γύρω τοῦ κλαίγοντας γοερά.
Τὸ καημένο τὸ δεντράκι ἦταν ἀκόμα σκεπασμένο ἀπὸ πάγο καὶ χιόνι, ὁ Βόρειος Ἄνεμος φυσοῦσε καὶ μούγκριζε ἀπὸ πάνω του.
«Σκαρφάλωσε, μικρό μου ἀγοράκι», ἔλεγε τὸ δέντρο, καὶ λύγιζε τὰ κλαδιά του ὅσο μποροῦσε, ἀλλὰ τὸ ἀγόρι ἦταν μικρό, τόσο μικρό.
Ἡ καρδιὰ τοῦ Γίγαντα ἕλιωσε καθὼς τὸ ἔβλεπε.
«Πόσο σκληρόκαρδος ἤμουνα», συλλογίστηκε. «Τώρα ξέρω γιατί ἡ ἄνοιξη δὲν θὰ ῾ρχονταν ποτὲ ἐδῶ. Νά, τώρα θ᾿ ἀνεβάσω αὐτὸ τὸ ἀγοράκι στὴν κορφὴ τοῦ δέντρου κι ἔπειτα θὰ γκρεμίσω τὸν τοῖχο, ἔτσι ποὺ ὁ κῆπος μου θά ῾ναι μόνο γιὰ τὰ παιχνίδια τῶν παιδιῶν».
Κι ἀλήθεια, μετάνιωσε πολὺ γιὰ ὅ,τι εἶχε κάνει.
Ἔτσι, περπάτησε στὶς μύτες τῶν ποδιῶν του, κι ἀνοίγοντας τὴν ἐξώπορτα πολὺ σιγά, βγῆκε στὸν κῆπο.
Ὅμως, νά, μόλις τὰ παιδιὰ τὸν εἶδαν σκιάχτηκαν τόσο πολύ, ποὺ ὅλα μαζὶ τὸ ῾βαλαν στὰ πόδια κι ὁ χειμώνας ἦρθε ξανὰ στὸν κῆπο. Μόνο τὸ μικρὸ ἀγόρι δὲν ἔφυγε, γιατὶ τὰ ματάκια του ποὺ ῾ταν γεμάτα δάκρυα δὲν εἶδαν τὸ Γίγαντα ποὺ ἐρχόταν.
Κι ὁ Γίγαντας ἦρθε κλεφτὰ πίσω του, τὸ πῆρε ἀπαλὰ στὸ χέρι του καὶ τὸ ἀνέβασε στὸ δέντρο. Καὶ τὸ δέντρο ἄνθισε. Τὰ πουλιὰ ἦρθαν καὶ τραγούδησαν πάνω του καὶ τ᾿ ἀγοράκι τύλιξε τὰ χεράκια του γύρω στὸ λαιμὸ τοῦ Γίγαντα καὶ τὸν φίλησε.
Καὶ τ᾿ ἄλλα παιδιά, σὰν εἶδαν πὼς ὁ Γίγαντας δὲν ἦταν πιὰ κακός, γύρισαν τρέχοντας καὶ μαζί τους ἦρθε ἡ ἄνοιξη.
«Τώρα εἶναι ὁ κῆπος σας αὐτός, μικρά μου παιδάκια», εἶπε ὁ Γίγαντας, καὶ παίρνοντας ἕνα μεγάλο τσεκοῦρι γκρέμισε τὸν τοῖχο. Κι ὅταν οἱ ἄνθρωποι περνοῦσαν γιὰ τὴν ἀγορὰ στὶς δώδεκα ἡ ὥρα βρῆκαν τὸν Γίγαντα νὰ παίζει στὸν πιὸ ὄμορφο κῆπο ποὺ εἶχαν δεῖ ποτέ.
Ὁλημερὶς ἔπαιζαν καὶ τὸ βράδυ πῆγαν στὸ Γίγαντα νὰ τὸν ἀποχαιρετίσουν. «Ὅμως, ποῦ εἶναι ὁ μικρός σας σύντροφος;» εἶπε. «Τὸ ἀγόρι ποὺ ἀνέβασα στὸ δέντρο». Βλέπετε ὁ Γίγαντας τὸ ἀγαποῦσε ἀπ᾿ τ᾿ ἄλλα περισσότερο, γιατὶ τὸν εἶχε φιλήσει.
«Δὲν ξέρουμε», ἀποκρίθηκαν τὰ παιδιά- «ἔφυγε».
«Πρέπει νὰ τοῦ πεῖτε νά ῾ρθει ὁπωσδήποτε αὔριο», εἶπε ὁ Γίγαντας.
Ἀλλὰ τὰ παιδιὰ εἶπαν πῶς δὲν ἤξεραν ποὺ ἔμενε καὶ πὼς δὲν τὸ εἶχαν δεῖ ποτὲ πρίν.
Κι ὁ Γίγαντας ἦταν πολὺ λυπημένος.
Κάθε ἀπόγευμα, ὅταν τὸ σχολεῖο τέλειωνε, τὰ παιδιὰ ἔρχονταν κι ἔπαιζαν μὲ τὸ Γίγαντα, μὰ τὸ μικρὸ ἀγόρι, ποὺ ὁ Γίγαντας ἀγαποῦσε, ποτὲ δὲ φάνηκε. Ἐκεῖνος φέρνονταν καλὰ σ᾿ ὅλα τὰ παιδιὰ κι ὅμως τοῦ ἔλειπε ὁ πρῶτος μικρός του φίλος καὶ συχνὰ μιλοῦσε γι᾿ αὐτὸν θλιμμένα- «πόσο θὰ ῾θελα νὰ τὸν ἔβλεπα!» ἔλεγε κάθε τόσο.
Τὰ χρόνια κύλησαν. Κι ὁ Γίγαντας γέρασε κι ἀδυνάτισε. Δὲν μποροῦσε νὰ παίξει πιὰ κι ἔτσι κάθονταν σὲ μία πελώρια πολυθρόνα καὶ παρακολουθοῦσε τὰ παιχνίδια τῶν παιδιῶν καὶ θαύμαζε τὸν κῆπο. «Ἔχω πολλὰ ὄμορφα λουλούδια», ἔλεγε- «μὰ τὰ παιδιὰ εἶναι τὰ ὡραιότερα ἀπ᾿ ὅλα».
Ἕνα χειμωνιάτικο πρωινὸ κοίταξε ἔξω ἀπ᾿ τὸ παράθυρο, καθὼς ντυνόταν. Δὲν μισοῦσε τώρα τὸ χειμῶνα, γιατὶ ἤξερε πὼς ἡ ἄνοιξη κοιμόταν μόνο καὶ τὰ λουλούδια ξεκουράζονταν.
Ξάφνου ἔτριψε τὰ μάτια του ἀπὸ ἀπορία καὶ κοίταζε... καὶ κοίταζε... Ἦταν βέβαια κάτι τὸ θαυμάσιο. Στὴν πιὸ ἀπόμερη γωνιὰ τοῦ κήπου ἕνα δέντρο ἦταν σκεπασμένο μ᾿ ὁλόλευκα λουλούδια. Τὰ κλαδιά του ἦταν χρυσαφένια κι ἀσημένια φροῦτα κρέμονταν, ἐνῷ πλάι του στεκόταν τὸ μικρὸ ἀγόρι πού ῾χε τόσο ἀγαπήσει.
Ὅρμησε τρέχοντας στὶς σκάλες ὁ Γίγαντας, γιομάτος χαρά, καὶ τρέχοντας βγῆκε στὸν κῆπο. Ἔτρεξε πάνω στὸ γρασίδι κι ἦρθε κοντὰ στὸ παιδί. Κι ὅταν τὸ ἔφτασε, τὸ πρόσωπό του κοκκίνισε ἀπ᾿ τὴν ὀργὴ κι εἶπε: «Ποιὸς τόλμησε νὰ σὲ πληγώσει;». Γιατί στὶς παλάμες τοῦ ἀγοριοῦ καὶ στὰ μικρά του πόδια διακρίνονταν οἱ πληγὲς ἀπὸ καρφιά.
«Ποιὸς τόλμησε νὰ σὲ πληγώσει;» φώναξε ὁ Γίγαντας- «πές μου κι ἐγὼ θὰ πάρω τὸ μεγάλο μου σπαθὶ νὰ τόνε κάνω κομμάτια!».
«Κανένας!» ἀποκρίθηκε τὸ παιδί- «ὅμως αὐτὲς εἶναι οἱ πληγὲς τῆς ἀγάπης!».
«Ποιὸς εἶσαι;» εἶπε ὁ Γίγαντας, κι ἕνας παράξενος φόβος τὸν κυρίεψε καὶ γονάτισε μπρὸς στὸ παιδί.
Καὶ τὸ παιδὶ τοῦ χαμογέλασε καὶ τοῦ εἶπε: «Μ᾿ ἄφησες κάποτε νὰ παίξω στὸν κῆπο σου, ἀπόψε ἐσὺ θά ῾ρθεις μαζί μου στὸ δικό μου κῆπο, τὸν Παράδεισο».
Κι ὅταν τὰ παιδιὰ ἦρθαν τρέχοντας τὸ ἀπόγεμα, βρῆκαν τὸ Γίγαντα νεκρὸ κάτω ἀπ᾿ τὸ δέντρο, σκεπασμένο ὁλάκερο μὲ κάτασπρα λουλούδια.
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