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For a minute or two she
stood looking at the house, and wondering what to do next, when suddenly a
footman in livery (1) came running out of the wood--(she considered him to be a
footman because he was in livery: otherwise, judging by his face only (2), she
would have called him a fish)--and rapped (3) loudly at the door with his knuckles.
It was opened by another footman in livery, with a round face, and large eyes
like a frog; and both footmen, Alice noticed, had powdered hair that curled all
over their heads. She felt very curious to know what it was all about, and crept
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The
Fish-Footman began by producing from under his arm a great letter,
nearly as large as himself, and this he handed over to the other,
saying, in a solemn tone, 'For the Duchess. An invitation from the
Queen to play croquet.(4)' The Frog-Footman repeated, in the same
solemn tone, only changing the order of the words a little, 'From
the Queen. An invitation for the Duchess to play croquet.'
Then
they both bowed low, and their curls got entangled together.
Alice
laughed so much at this, that she had to run back into the wood
for fear of their hearing her; and when she next peeped out the
Fish-Footman was gone, and the other was sitting on the ground near
the door, staring stupidly up into the sky.
Alice
went timidly up to the door, and knocked.
'There's
no sort of use in knocking,' (5) said the Footman, 'and that for
two reasons. First, because I'm on the same side of the door as
you are; secondly, because they're making such a noise inside, no
one could possibly hear you.' And certainly there was a most extraordinary
noise going on within - a constant howling and sneezing, and every
now and then a great crash, as if a dish or kettle had been broken
to pieces.
'Please,
then,' said Alice, 'how am I to get in?'
'There
might be some sense in your knocking,' the Footman went on without
attending to her, 'if we had the door between us. For instance,
if you were inside, you might knock, and I could let you out, you
know.' He was looking up into the sky all the time he was speaking,
and this Alice thought decidedly uncivil. 'But perhaps he can't
help it,' she said to herself; 'his eyes are so very nearly at the
top of his head. But at any rate he might answer questions. - How
am I to get in?' she repeated, aloud.
'I
shall sit here,' the Footman remarked, 'till tomorrow - '
At
this moment the door of the house opened, and a large plate came
skimming out (6), straight at the Footman's head: it just
grazed his nose, and broke to pieces against one of the trees behind
him.
'-
or next day, maybe,' the Footman continued in the same tone, exactly
as if nothing had happened.
'How
am I to get in?' asked Alice again, in a louder tone.
'Are
you to get in at all?' said the Footman. 'That's the first question,
you know.'
It
was, no doubt: only Alice did not like to be told so. 'It's really
dreadful,' she muttered to herself, 'the way all the creatures argue.
It's enough to drive one crazy!' (7)
The
Footman seemed to think this a good opportunity for repeating his
remark, with variations. 'I shall sit here,' he said, 'on and off,
for days and days.'
'But
what am I to do?' said Alice.
'Anything
you like,' said the Footman, and began whistling.
'Oh,
there's no use in talking to him,' said Alice desperately: 'he's
perfectly idiotic!' And she opened the door and went in.
The
door led right into a large kitchen, which was full of smoke from
one end to the other: the Duchess was sitting on a three-legged
stool in the middle, nursing a baby; the cook was leaning over the
fire, stirring a large cauldron which seemed to be full of soup.
'There's
certainly too much pepper in that soup!' Alice said to herself,
as well as she could for sneezing.
There
was certainly too much of it in the air. Even the Duchess sneezed
occasionally; and as for the baby, it was sneezing and howling alternately
without a moment's pause. The only things in the kitchen that did
not sneeze, were the cook, and a large cat which was sitting on
the hearth and grinning from ear to ear.
'Please
would you tell me,' said Alice, a little timidly, for she was not
quite sure whether it was good manners for her to speak first, 'why
your cat grins like that?'
'It's
a Cheshire cat,' said the Duchess, 'and that's why. Pig!'
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She
said the last word with such sudden violence that Alice
quite jumped; (8) but she saw in another moment that
it was addressed to the baby, and not to her, so she
took courage, and went on again:- (9)
'I
didn't know that Cheshire cats always grinned; in fact,
I didn't know that cats could grin.'
'They
all can,' said the Duchess; 'and most of 'em do.'
'I
don't know of any that do,' Alice said very politely,
feeling quite pleased to have got into a conversation.
'You
don't know much,' said the Duchess; 'and that's a fact.'
Alice
did not at all like the tone of this remark, and thought
it would be as well to introduce some other subject
of conversation. While she was trying to fix on one
(10), the cook took the cauldron of soup off the fire,
and at once set to work throwing everything within her
reach at the Duchess and the baby - the fire-irons (11)
came first; then followed a shower of saucepans, plates,
and dishes. The Duchess took no notice of them even
when they hit her; and the baby was howling so much
already, that it was quite impossible to say whether
the blows hurt it or not.
'Oh,
please mind what you're doing!' (12) cried Alice, jumping
up and down in an agony of terror. 'Oh, there goes his
precious nose'; as an unusually large saucepan flew
close by it, and very nearly carried it off.
'If
everybody minded their own business,' the Duchess said
in a hoarse growl, 'the world would go round a deal
faster than it does.'
'Which
would not be an advantage,' said Alice, who felt very
glad to get an opportunity of showing off a little of
her knowledge. 'Just think of what work it would make
with the day and night! You see the earth takes twenty-four
hours to turn round on its axis--'
'Talking
of axes,' said the Duchess, 'chop off her head!' (13)
Alice
glanced rather anxiously at the cook, to see if she
meant to take the hint (14); but the cook was busily
stirring the soup, and seemed not to be listening, so
she went on again: 'Twenty-four hours, I think; or is
it twelve? I - '
'Oh,
don't bother ME,' said the Duchess; 'I never could abide
figures!' And with that she began nursing her child
again, singing a sort of lullaby to it as she did so,
and giving it a violent shake at the end of every line:
'Speak
roughly to your little boy,
And
beat him when he sneezes:
He
only does it to annoy,
Because
he knows it teases.'
CHORUS
(In
which the cook and the baby joined):-
'Wow!
wow! wow!'
While
the Duchess sang the second verse of the song, she kept
tossing the baby violently up and down, (15) and the
poor little thing howled so, that Alice could hardly
hear the words:--
'I
speak severely to my boy,
I
beat him when he sneezes;
For
he can thoroughly enjoy
The
pepper when he pleases!'
CHORUS
'Wow!
wow! wow!'
'Here!
you may nurse it a bit, if you like!' the Duchess said
to Alice, flinging (16) the baby at her as she spoke.
'I must go and get ready to play croquet with the Queen,'
and she hurried out of the room. The cook threw a frying-pan
after her as she went out, but it just missed her.
Alice
caught the baby with some difficulty, as it was a queer-shaped
little creature, and held out its arms and legs in all
directions, 'just like a star-fish,' thought Alice.
The poor little thing was snorting like a steam-engine
when she caught it, and kept doubling itself up and
straightening itself out again, so that altogether,
for the first minute or two, it was as much as she could
do to hold it.
As
soon as she had made out the proper way of nursing it,
(which was to twist it up into a sort of knot, and then
keep tight hold of its right ear and left foot, so as
to prevent its undoing itself,) she carried it out into
the open air. 'If I don't take this child away with
me,' thought Alice, 'they're sure to kill it in a day
or two: wouldn't it be murder to leave it behind?' She
said the last words out loud, and the little thing grunted
in reply (it had left off sneezing by this time). 'Don't
grunt,' said Alice; 'that's not at all a proper way
of expressing yourself.'
The
baby grunted again, and Alice looked very anxiously
into its face to see what was the matter with it. There
could be no doubt that it had a very turn-up nose (17),
much more like a snout than a real nose; also its eyes
were getting extremely small for a baby: altogether
Alice did not like the look of the thing at all. 'But
perhaps it was only sobbing,' she thought, and looked
into its eyes again, to see if there were any tears.
No,
there were no tears. 'If you're going to turn into a
pig, my dear,' said Alice, seriously, 'I'll have nothing
more to do with you. Mind now!' The poor little thing
sobbed again (or grunted, it was impossible to say which),
and they went on for some while in silence.
Alice
was just beginning to think to herself, 'Now, what am
I to do with this creature when I get it home?' when
it grunted again, so violently, that she looked down
into its face in some alarm. This time there could be
no mistake about it: (18) it was neither more nor less
than a pig, and she felt that it would be quite absurd
for her to carry it further.
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So
she set the little creature down, and felt
quite relieved to see it trot away quietly
into the wood. 'If it had grown up,' she
said to herself, 'it would have made a dreadfully
ugly child: but it makes rather a handsome
pig, I think.' And she began thinking over
other children she knew, who might do very
well as pigs, and was just saying to herself,
'if one only knew the right way to change
them--' when she was a little startled by
seeing the Cheshire Cat sitting on a bough
of a tree a few yards off.
The
Cat only grinned when it saw Alice. It looked
good- natured, she thought: still it had
very long claws and a great many teeth,
so she felt that it ought to be treated
with respect.
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'Cheshire
Puss,' she began, rather timidly, as she did not at
all know whether it would like the name: however, it
only grinned a little wider. 'Come, it's pleased so
far, (19)' thought Alice, and she went on.
'Would
you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?'
'That
depends a good deal on where you want to get to,' said
the Cat.
'I
don't much care where- (20)' said Alice.
'Then
it doesn't matter which way you go,' said the Cat.
'-
so long as I get somewhere,' Alice added as an explanation.
'Oh,
you're sure to do that,' said the Cat, 'if you only
walk long enough.'
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Alice
felt that this could not be denied,
so she tried another question. 'What
sort of people live about here?'
'In
that direction,' the Cat said, waving
its right paw round, 'lives a Hatter:
and in that direction,' waving the other
paw, 'lives a March Hare. Visit either
you like: they're both mad.'
'But
I don't want to go among mad people,'
Alice remarked.
'Oh,
you can't help that,' said the Cat:
'we're all mad here. I'm mad. You're
mad.'
'How
do you know I'm mad?' said Alice.
'You
must be,' said the Cat, 'or you wouldn't
have come here.'
Alice
didn't think that proved it at all;
however, she went on 'And how do you
know that you're mad?'
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'To
begin with,' said the Cat, 'a dog's not mad. You grant
that?' (21)
'I
suppose so,' said Alice.
'Well,
then,' the Cat went on, 'you see, a dog growls when
it's angry, and wags its tail when it's pleased. Now
I growl when I'm pleased, and wag my tail when I'm angry.
Therefore I'm mad.'
'I
call it purring, not growling,' said Alice. (22)
'Call
it what you like,' said the Cat. 'Do you play croquet
with the Queen to-day?'
'I
should like it very much,' said Alice, 'but I haven't
been invited yet.'
'You'll
see me there,' said the Cat, and vanished.
Alice
was not much surprised at this, she was getting so used
to queer things happening. While she was looking at
the place where it had been, it suddenly appeared again.
'By-the-bye,
what became of the baby?' (23) said the Cat. 'I'd nearly
forgotten to ask.'
'It
turned into a pig,' Alice quietly said, just as if it
had come back in a natural way.
'I
thought it would,' said the Cat, and vanished again.
Alice
waited a little, half expecting to see it again, but
it did not appear, and after a minute or two she walked
on in the direction in which the March Hare was said
to live. 'I've seen hatters before,' she said to herself;
'the March Hare will be much the most interesting, and
perhaps as this is May it won't be raving mad - at least
not so mad as it was in March.' As she said this, she
looked up, and there was the Cat again, sitting on a
branch of a tree.
'Did
you say pig, or fig?' said the Cat.
'I
said pig,' replied Alice; 'and I wish you wouldn't keep
appearing and vanishing so suddenly: you make one quite
giddy.'
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'All
right,' said the Cat; and this time it vanished quite
slowly, beginning with the end of the tail, and ending
with the grin, which remained some time after the rest
of it had gone.
'Well!
I've often seen a cat without a grin,' thought Alice;
'but a grin without a cat! It's the most curious thing
I ever saw in my life!'
She
had not gone much farther before she came in sight of
the house of the March Hare: she thought it must be
the right house, because the chimneys were shaped like
ears and the roof was thatched with fur. It was so large
a house, that she did not like to go nearer till she
had nibbled some more of the left hand bit of mushroom,
and raised herself to about two feet high: even then
she walked up towards it rather timidly, saying to herself
'Suppose it should be raving mad after all! (24) I almost
wish I'd gone to see the Hatter instead!'
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Capítulo:
Uno Dos
Tres Cuatro
Cinco
Sexto
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