Madam Duck of this farm is my mother.
MOLE. That can't be! You are no duck.
DUCKLING. Yes, but I am. Only, I am uglier than any duck in the world.
MOLE. You have not the voice of a duck. You do not speak with the quack of
which they are so proud. And then, if you are truly a duck, why are you not
with your family?
DUCKLING. They drove me out last summer because I was ugly and could not
quack.
MOLE. Then why have you come back?
DUCKLING. To let the swans kill me.
MOLE. What! To let them kill you?
DUCKLING. I would rather be killed by those beautiful birds than pecked by
the hens, beaten by the geese, or starved with hunger in the winter.
MOLE. Perhaps you are not so ugly now as you were then.
DUCKLING. I have not looked at myself in the water since spring came and
took the ice away. But I know well enough how dark and badly formed I am.
The swans will kill me if I dare to approach them.
[_A noise is heard in the distance._]
MOLE. They are coming! Go, while there is yet time.
DUCKLING. There is no place to go to. All winter long I was driven from
moor to moor. I could not make a friend--I no longer wish to live.
[_The_ SWANS _are seen swimming down the brook.
Pages:
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53