English Original
All rare and costly materials had certainly a great fascination for him, and in his eagerness to procure them he had sent away many merchants, some to traffic for amber with the rough fisher-folk of the north seas, some to Egypt to look for that curious green turquoise which is found only in the tombs of kings, and is said to possess magical properties, some to Persia for silken carpets and painted pottery, and others to India to buy gauze and stained ivory, moonstones and bracelets of jade, sandalwood and blue enamel and shawls of fine wool.
But what had occupied him most was the robe he was to wear at his coronation, the robe of tissued gold, and the ruby-studded crown, and the sceptre with its rows and rings of pearls. Indeed, it was of this that he was thinking to-night, as he lay back on his luxurious couch, watching the great pinewood log that was burning itself out on the open hearth. The designs, which were from the hands of the most famous artists of the time, had been submitted to him many months before, and he had given orders that the artificers were to toil night and day to carry them out, and that the whole world was to be searched for jewels that would be worthy of their work. He saw himself in fancy standing at the high altar of the cathedral in the fair raiment of a King, and a smile played and lingered about his boyish lips, and lit up with a bright lustre his dark woodland eyes.
After some time he rose from his seat, and leaning against the carved penthouse of the chimney, looked round at the dimly-lit room. The walls were hung with rich tapestries representing the Triumph of Beauty. A large press, inlaid with agate and lapis-lazuli, filled one corner, and facing the window stood a curiously wrought cabinet with lacquer panels of powdered and mosaiced gold, on which were placed some delicate goblets of Venetian glass, and a cup of dark-veined onyx. Pale poppies were broidered on the silk coverlet of the bed, as though they had fallen from the tired hands of sleep, and tall reeds of fluted ivory bare up the velvet canopy, from which great tufts of ostrich plumes sprang, like white foam, to the pallid silver of the fretted ceiling. A laughing Narcissus in green bronze held a polished mirror above its head. On the table stood a flat bowl of amethyst.
Outside he could see the huge dome of the cathedral, looming like a bubble over the shadowy houses, and the weary sentinels pacing up and down on the misty terrace by the river. Far away, in an orchard, a nightingale was singing. A faint perfume of jasmine came through the open window. He brushed his brown curls back from his forehead, and taking up a lute, let his fingers stray across the cords. His heavy eyelids drooped, and a strange languor came over him. Never before had he felt so keenly, or with such exquisite joy, the magic and the mystery of beautiful things.
When midnight sounded from the clock-tower he touched a bell, and his pages entered and disrobed him with much ceremony, pouring rose-water over his hands, and strewing flowers on his pillow. A few moments after that they had left the room, he fell asleep.
And as he slept he dreamed a dream, and this was his dream. He thought that he was standing in a long, low attic, amidst the whirr and clatter of many looms. The meagre daylight peered in through the grated windows, and showed him the gaunt figures of the weavers bending over their cases. Pale, sickly-looking children were crouched on the huge cross-beams. As the shuttles dashed through the warp they lifted up the heavy battens, and when the shuttles stopped they let the battens fall and pressed the threads together. Their faces were pinched with famine, and their thin hands shook and trembled. Some haggard women were seated at a table sewing. A horrible odour filled the place. The air was foul and heavy, and the walls dripped and streamed with damp.
The young King went over to one of the weavers, and stood by him and watched him.
And the weaver looked at him angrily, and said, 'Why art thou watching me? Art thou a spy set on us by our master?'
'Who is thy master?' asked the young King.
'Our master!' cried the weaver, bitterly. 'He is a man like myself. Indeed, there is but this difference between us that he wears fine clothes while I go in rags, and that while I am weak from hunger he suffers not a little from overfeeding.'
'The land is free,' said the young King, 'and thou art no man's slave.'
中文翻译
所有稀有而昂贵的材料无疑都对他有着巨大的吸引力。为了急切地获取它们，他派出了许多商人：有的去北海与粗犷的渔民交易琥珀；有的去埃及寻找那种奇异的绿松石，据说它只存在于国王的陵墓中，并拥有魔力；有的去波斯采购丝绸地毯和彩绘陶器；还有的去印度购买薄纱、染色象牙、月长石、玉制手镯、檀香木、蓝色珐琅和细羊毛披肩。
但最让他挂念的，还是他将在加冕礼上穿的长袍——那件金线织就的长袍、镶满红宝石的王冠，以及缀着一排排珍珠环的权杖。事实上，今晚他正想着这些，他躺在奢华的长椅上，看着壁炉里那根巨大的松木柴燃尽。这些由当时最著名艺术家设计的图样，早在数月前就已呈交给他。他已下令工匠们夜以继日地劳作以完成它们，并要搜遍全世界寻找配得上他们作品的珠宝。他想象着自己身穿国王的华美服饰，站在大教堂高高的祭坛前，一抹微笑在他稚嫩的唇边浮现、流连，为他那双如林间幽潭般深邃的眼睛点亮了明亮的光泽。
过了一会儿，他从座位上起身，倚在烟囱上雕刻的阁楼边，环顾着昏暗的房间。墙上挂着描绘“美的胜利”的华丽挂毯。一个镶嵌着玛瑙和青金石的大柜子占据了一个角落，窗对面立着一个工艺奇特的橱柜，漆板上饰有粉末状和镶嵌的金子，上面摆放着几个精致的威尼斯玻璃高脚杯和一个深色纹理的玛瑙杯。丝绸床罩上绣着浅色的罂粟花，仿佛是从睡神疲惫的手中洒落。高高的凹槽象牙柱支撑着天鹅绒的华盖，大簇的鸵鸟羽毛从华盖中喷涌而出，如同白色泡沫，直抵苍白的雕花银质天花板。一个绿色青铜制的、面带笑容的那喀索斯雕像，在头顶举着一面抛光的镜子。桌上放着一个扁平的紫水晶碗。
窗外，他能看到大教堂巨大的穹顶，如同一个气泡隐约浮现在影影绰绰的房屋之上，还有疲倦的哨兵在河边雾气蒙蒙的平台上来回踱步。远处，一个果园里，一只夜莺在歌唱。一丝淡淡的茉莉花香从敞开的窗户飘进来。他将额前的棕色卷发向后捋去，拿起一把诗琴，让手指随意拨动琴弦。他沉重的眼皮低垂下来，一种奇异的倦怠感笼罩了他。他从未如此敏锐地，或者说，带着如此极致的喜悦，感受到美好事物所具有的魔力与神秘。
当钟楼传来午夜的钟声时，他按响了铃，侍从们进来，以隆重的仪式为他更衣，将玫瑰水倒在他手上，并在他的枕头上撒满鲜花。他们离开房间片刻后，他便睡着了。
睡着时，他做了一个梦，这就是他的梦。他梦见自己站在一个又长又矮的阁楼里，周围是许多织布机发出的呼呼声和咔嗒声。微弱的光线从装有栅栏的窗户透进来，照出织工们俯身在织机前瘦削的身影。面色苍白、病恹恹的孩子们蜷缩在巨大的横梁上。梭子飞快地穿过经线时，他们抬起沉重的压条；梭子停下时，他们放下压条，将线压紧。他们的脸庞因饥饿而凹陷，瘦弱的手颤抖着。一些面容憔悴的妇女坐在桌旁缝纫。一股可怕的气味弥漫着这个地方。空气污浊而沉闷，墙壁上滴着水，湿漉漉的。
年轻的国王走到其中一个织工身边，站在那儿看着他。
那织工愤怒地看着他，说：“你为何看着我？你是我们主人派来监视我们的间谍吗？”
“你的主人是谁？”年轻的国王问道。
“我们的主人！”织工苦涩地喊道，“他是个和我一样的人。确实，我们之间只有这点区别：他穿华服，而我衣衫褴褛；我因饥饿而虚弱，他却饱食过度，饱受其苦。”
“这片土地是自由的，”年轻的国王说，“你不是任何人的奴隶。”