Самые лучшие английские сказки / The best english fairy tales

The lad tried in vain[6 - in vain – напрасно] with the crucibles to turn copper and lead into gold and silver. He looked long and vainly into the mirror; smoke and clouds passed over it, but he saw nothing plain. And the shell produced to his ear only indistinct murmurings, like the breaking of distant seas on an unknown shore. “I can do nothing,” he said; “as I don’t know the right words to utter, and they are locked up in that magic book.”

He looked round, and, see! the book was not locked. The master had forgotten to lock it before he went out.

The boy rushed to it, and opened the volume. It was written with red and black ink, and much of it he could not understand. But he put his finger on a line and spelled it through.

At once the room was darkened, and the house trembled; a clap of thunder rolled through the passage and the old room, and there stood before him a horrible, horrible form, breathing fire, and with eyes like burning lamps. It was the demon, whom he had called up[7 - whom he had called up – которого он вызвал] to serve him.

“Set me a task![8 - Set me a task! – Приказывай мне!]” said he, with a voice like the roaring of an iron furnace.

The boy only trembled, and his hair stood up.

“Set me a task, or I shall strangle you!”

But the lad could not speak. Then the evil spirit stepped towards him, and putting forth his hands touched his throat. The fingers burned his flesh. “Set me a task!”

“Water that flower,” cried the boy in despair, pointing to a geranium which stood in a pot on the floor.

Instantly the spirit left the room, but in another instant he returned with a barrel on his back, and poured its contents over the flower; and again and again he went and came, and poured more and more water, till the floor of the room was ankle-deep.[9 - the floor of the room was ankle-deep – воды в комнате стало по щиколотку]

“Enough, enough!” gasped the lad; but the demon did not hear him. The lad didn’t know the words by which to send him away, and still he fetched water.

It rose to the boy’s knees and still more water was poured. It mounted to his waist, and the demon still kept on bringing barrels full. It rose to his armpits, and he scrambled to the table-top. And now the water in the room stood up to the window and washed against the glass, and around his feet on the table. It still rose; it reached his breast. The poor boy cried, but all was useless. The evil spirit was pouring and pouring and pouring water.