the butterfly wished for a bride；naturally，he wanted a very pretty one from among the flowers；so he looked at them，and found that every flower sat quietly and demurely on her stalk，just as a maiden ought to sitbefore she is engaged；but there were a great many of them，and the choice threatened to become wearisome．the butterfly did not care to take much trouble，and sohe flew off to the daisy．the french call this floweret "marguerite"，and they know that marguerite can prophesy，when lovers pluck off its leaves，and ask of every leaf they pluck some question concerning their lovers．"heartily？painfully？loves me much？ a little？not atall？"and so on．every one asks in his own language．the butterfly also came to inquire；but he did not pluck offher leaves：he kissed each of them，for he considered that most is to be done with kindness．

"darling marguerite daisy！"he said to her，"youare the wisest woman among the flowers．pray，pray tell me，shall i get this one or that？ which will be my bride？when i know that，i will directly fly to her and proposefor her．"

but marguerite did not answer him．she was angry that he had called her a"woman”，when she was yet agirl；and there is a great difference．he asked for thesecond and for the third time，and when she remained dumb，and answered him not a word，he would wait no longer，but flew away to begin his wooing at once．

it was in the beginning of spring；the crocus and thesnowdrop were blooming around．

"they are very pretty，"thought the butterfly．"charming little lasses，but a little too much of the school girl about them．"like all young lads，he lookedout for the elder girls．

then he flew off to the anemones．these were a littletoo bitter for his taste；the violet somewhat too sentimental；the tulips too showy；the eastern lilies too plebeian；thelime blossoms were too small，and，moreover，they had toomany relations；the apple blossoms-they looked like ros-es，but they bloomed today，to fall off tomorrow，to fallbeneath the first wind that blew；and he thought that amarriage with them would last too short a time．the peaseblossom pleased him best of all：she was white and red，and graceful and delicate，and belonged to the domesticmaidens who look well，and at the same time are useful inthe kitchen．he was just about to make his offer， whenclose by the maiden he saw a pod at whose end hung a withered flower．

"who is that？" he asked．

"that is my sister，"replied the pease blossom．

"oh，indeed；and you will get to look like her！"hesaid．

and away he flew， for he felt quite shocked．

the honeysuckle hung forth blooming from the hedge，but there were a number of girls like that，with long facesand sallow complexions．no，he did not like her．

but which one did he like？

the spring went by，and the summer drew towards itsclose；it was autumn，but he was still undecided．

and now the flowers appeared in their most gorgeousrobes，but in vain-they had lost the fresh fragrant air ofyouth．but the heart demands fragrance，even when it is nolonger young，and there is very little of that to be foundamong the dahlias and dry chrysanthemums，therefore thebutterfly turned to the mint on the ground．

this plant has no blossom；but indeed it is blossomall over，full of fragrance from head to foot，with flowerscent in every leaf．

"i shall take her，"said the butterfly， and he made an offer to her．

but the mint stood silent and stiff，listening to him．at last she said， "friendship，but nothing more．i am old，and youare old，we may very well live for one another；but as tomarrying-no-don’t let us appear ridiculous at our age．”

and thus it happened that the butterfly had no wifeat all．he had been too long choosing，and that is a badplan．so the butterfly became what we call an old bachelor．

it was late in autumn，with rain and cloudy weath-er．the wind blew cold over the backs of the old willowtrees，so that they creaked again．it was no weather to be flying about in summer clothes，nor，indeed，was thebutterfly in the open air．he had got under shelter by chance，where there was fire in the stove and the heat ofsummer．he could live well enough，hut he said．

"it’s not enough，merely to live．one must havefreedom，sunshine，and a little flower．”

and he flew against the window-frame，and was seen and admired，and then stuck upon a pin and placedin the box of curiosities；they could not do more for him．

"now i am perched on a stalk，like the flowers，"said the butterfly．"it certainly is not very pleasant．itmust be something like being married，for one is stuckfast．"

and he consoled himself with that thought．

"that’s very poor comfort，"said the potted plantsin the room．

"but，"thought the butterfly，"one cannot well trustthese potted plants．they've had too much to do withmankind．"

蝴蝶

一只蝴蝶想要找一个恋人。自然，他想要在群花中找到一位可爱的小恋人。因此他就把她们都看了一遍。每朵花都是安静地、端庄地坐在梗子上，正如一个姑娘在没有订婚时那样坐着。可是她们的数目非常多，选择很不容易。蝴蝶不愿意招来麻烦，因此就飞到雏菊那儿去。法国人把这种小花叫做“玛加丽特”。他们知道，她能做出预言。她是这样做的：情人们把她的花瓣一片一片地摘下来，每摘一片情人就问一个关于他们恋人的事情：“热情吗？——痛苦吗？——非常爱我吗，——只爱一点吗？——完全不爱吗？”以及诸如此类的问题。每个人可以用自己的语言问。蝴蝶也来问了；但是他不摘下花瓣，却吻起每片花瓣来。因为他认为只有善意才能得到最好的回答。

“亲爱的‘玛加丽特’雏菊！”他说，“你是一切花中最聪明的女人。你会做出预言！我请求你告诉我，我应该娶这一位呢，还是娶那一位？我到底会得到哪一位呢？如果我知道的话，就可以直接向她飞去，向她求婚。”

可是“玛加丽特”不回答他，她很生气，因为她还不过是一个少女，而他却已把她称为“女人”；这究竟有一个分别呀。他问了第二次，第三次。当他从她得不到半个字的回答的时候，就不再愿意问了。他飞走了，并且立刻开始他的求婚活动。

这正是初春的时候，番红花和雪形花正在盛开。

“她们非常好看，”蝴蝶说，“简直是一群情窦初开的可爱的小姑娘，但是太不懂世事。”他像所有的年轻小伙子一样，要寻找年纪较大一点的女子。

于是他就飞到秋牡丹那儿去。照他的胃口说来，这些姑娘未免苦味太浓了一点。紫罗兰有点太热情；郁金香太华丽；黄水仙太平民化；菩提树花太小，此外她们的亲戚也太多；苹果树花看起来倒很像玫瑰，但是她们今天开了，明天就谢了——只要风一吹就落下来了。他觉得跟她们结婚是不会长久的。豌豆花最逗人爱：她有红有白，既娴雅，又柔嫩。她是家庭观念很强的妇女，外表既漂亮，在厨房里也很能干。当他正打算向她求婚的时候，看到这花儿的近旁有一个豆荚——豆荚的尖端上挂着一朵枯萎了的花。

“这是谁？”他问。

“这是我的姐姐，”豌豆花说。

“乖乖！那么你将来也会像她一样了！”他说。

这使蝴蝶大吃一惊，于是他就飞走了。

金银花悬在篱笆上。像她这样的女子，数目还不少；她们都板起面孔，皮肤发黄。不成，不喜欢这种类型的女子。

不过他究竟喜欢谁呢？你去问他吧！

春天过去了，夏天也快要告一结束。现在是秋天了，但是他仍然犹豫不决。

现在花儿都穿上了她们最华丽的衣服，但是有什么用呢——她们已经失去了那种新鲜的、喷香的青春味儿。人上了年纪，心中喜欢的就是香味呀。特别是在天竺牡丹和干菊花中间，香味这东西可说是没有了。因此蝴蝶就飞向地上长着的薄荷那儿去。

“她可以说没有花，但是全身又都是花，从头到脚都有香气，连每一片叶子上都有花香。我要讨她！”

于是他就对她提出婚事。

薄荷端端正正地站着，一声不响。最后她说：

“交朋友是可以的，但是别的事情都谈不上。我老了，你也老了，我们可以彼此照顾，但是结婚——那可不成！像我们这样大的年纪，不要自己开自己的玩笑吗！”

这么一来，蝴蝶就没有找到太太的机会了。他挑选太久了，不是好办法。结果蝴蝶就成了大家所谓的老单身汉了这是晚秋季节，天气多雨而阴沉。风儿把寒气吹在老柳树的背上，弄得它们发出飕飕的响声来。如果这时还穿着夏天的衣服在外面寻花问柳，那是不好的[，因为这样，正如大家说的一样，会受到批评的。]的确，蝴蝶也没有在外面乱飞。他乘着一个偶然的机会溜到一个房间里去了。这儿火炉里面生着火，像夏天一样温暖。他满可以生活得很好的，不过，“只是活下去还不够！”他说，“一个人应该有自由、阳光和一朵小小的花儿！”

他撞着窗玻璃飞，被人观看和欣赏，然后就被穿在一根针上，藏在一个小古董匣子里面。这是人们最欣赏他的一种表示。

“现在我像花儿一样，栖在一根梗子上了。”蝴蝶说。“这的确是不太愉快的。这几乎跟结婚没有两样，因为我现在算是牢牢地固定下来了。”

他用这种思想来安慰自己。

“这是一种可怜的安慰，”房子里的栽在盆里的花儿说。

“可是，”蝴蝶想，“一个人不应该相信这些盆里的花儿的话。她们跟人类的来往太密切了。”

这篇小品，发表于1861年在哥本哈根出版的《丹麦大众历书》上。它充满了风趣，值得玩味，特别是对那些即将进入“单身汉”境地的人。最后一句话也颇有意思：“一个人不应该相信这些盆里的花儿的话。她们跟人类的来往太密切了。”