Маленькая принцесса

           Itwasasenseoflight,andasound—thesoundofacrackling,roaringlittlefire.

           "Oh,Iamawakening,"shesaidmournfully."Ican’thelpit—Ican’t."

           Hereyesopenedinspiteofherself.Andthensheactuallysmiled—forwhatshesawshehadneverseenintheatticbefore,andknewshenevershouldsee.

           "Oh,IHAVEN’Tawakened,"shewhispered,daringtoriseonherelbowandlookallabouther."Iamdreamingyet."SheknewitMUSTbeadream,forifshewereawakesuchthingscouldnot—couldnotbe.

           Doyouwonderthatshefeltsureshehadnotcomebacktoearth?Thisiswhatshesaw.Inthegratetherewasaglowing,blazingfire;onthehobwasalittlebrasskettlehissingandboiling;spreaduponthefloorwasathick,warmcrimsonrug;beforethefireafolding-chair,unfolded,andwithcushionsonit;bythechairasmallfolding-table,unfolded,coveredwithawhitecloth,anduponitspreadsmallcovereddishes,acup,asaucer,ateapot;onthebedwerenewwarmcoveringsandasatin-covereddownquilt;atthefootacuriouswaddedsilkrobe,apairofquiltedslippers,andsomebooks.Theroomofherdreamseemedchangedintofairyland—anditwasfloodedwithwarmlight,forabrightlampstoodonthetablecoveredwitharosyshade.

           Shesatup,restingonherelbow,andherbreathingcameshortandfast.

           "Itdoesnot—meltaway,"shepanted."Oh,Ineverhadsuchadreambefore."