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Question: The omniscient point of view in the story helps to…
Question:
The omniscient point of view in the story helps to develop the theme by
A. describing the different plants in the garden
B. showing how Snow and Frost feel about the Giant’s rules
C. keeping the mystery of a child a secret
D. conveying what the children did as the seasons passed
Story:
The Selfish Giant by Oscar Wilde
Every afternoon, as they were coming from school, the children
used to go and play in the Giant’s garden.
It was a large lovely garden, with soft green grass. Here and there
over the grass stood beautiful flowers like stars, and there were twelve
peach-trees that in the spring-time broke out into delicate blossoms of
pink and pearl, and in the autumn bore rich fruit. The birds sat on the
trees and sang so sweetly that the children used to stop their games in
order to listen to them. ‘How happy we are here!’ they cried to each other.
One day the Giant came back. He had been to visit his friend the
Cornish ogre, and had stayed with him for seven years. After the seven
years were over he had said all that he had to say, for his conversation
was limited, and he determined to return to his own castle. When he
arrived he saw the children playing in the garden.
‘What are you doing here?’ he cried in a very gruff voice, and the
children ran away.
‘My own garden is my own garden,’ said the Giant; ‘any one can
understand that, and I will allow nobody to play in it but myself.’ So he
built a high wall all round it, and put up a notice-board.
TRESPASSERS
WILL BE
PROSECUTED
He was a very selfish Giant.
The poor children had now nowhere to play. They tried to play on the
road, but the road was very dusty and full of hard stones, and they did not
like it. They used to wander round the high wall when their lessons were
over, and talk about the beautiful garden inside.
‘How happy we were there,’ they said to each other.
Then the Spring came, and all over the country there were little
blossoms and little birds. Only in the garden of the Selfish Giant it was still
Winter. The birds did not care to sing in it as there were no children, and
the trees forgot to blossom. Once a beautiful flower put its head out from
the grass, but when it saw the notice-board it was so sorry for the children
that it slipped back into the ground again, and went off to sleep. The only
people who were pleased were the Snow and the Frost. ‘Spring has
forgotten this garden,’ they cried, ‘so we will live here all the year round.’
The Snow covered up the grass with her great white cloak, and the Frost
painted all the trees silver.
Then they invited the North Wind to stay with them, and he came.
He was wrapped in furs, and he roared all day about the garden, and
blew the chimney-pots down. ‘This is a delightful spot,’ he said, ‘we must
ask the Hail on a visit.’ So the Hail came. Every day for three hours he
rattled on the roof of the castle till he broke most of the slates, and then
he ran round and round the garden as fast as he could go. He was
dressed in grey, and his breath was like ice.
‘I cannot understand why the Spring is so late in coming,’ said the
Selfish Giant, as he sat at the window and looked out at his cold white
garden; ‘I hope there will be a change in the weather.’
But the Spring never came, nor the Summer. The Autumn gave golden
fruit to every garden, but to the Giant’s garden she gave none. ‘He is too
selfish,’ she said. So it was always Winter there, and the North Wind, and
the Hail, and the Frost, and the Snow danced about through the trees.
One morning the Giant was lying awake in bed when he heard some
lovely music. It sounded so sweet to his ears that he thought it must be
the King’s musicians passing by. It was really only a little linnet singing
outside his window, but it was so long since he had heard a bird sing in
his garden that it seemed to him to be the most beautiful music in the
world. Then the Hail stopped dancing over his head, and the North Wind
ceased roaring, and a delicious perfume came to him through the open
casement. ‘I believe the Spring has come at last,’ said the Giant; and he
jumped out of bed and looked out.
What did he see?
He saw a most wonderful sight. Through a little hole in the wall the
children had crept in, and they were sitting in the branches of the trees. In
every tree that he could see there was a little child. And the trees were so
glad to have the children back again that they had covered themselves
with blossoms, and were waving their arms gently above the children’s
heads. The birds were flying about and twittering with delight, and the
flowers were looking up through the green grass and laughing.
It was a lovely scene, only in one corner it was still Winter. It was the
farthest corner of the garden, and in it was standing a little boy. He was
so small that he could not reach up to the branches of the tree, and he
was wandering all round it, crying bitterly. The poor tree was still quite
covered with frost and snow, and the North Wind was blowing and roaring
above it. ‘Climb up! little boy,’ said the Tree, and it bent its branches down
as low as it could; but the little boy was too tiny.
And the Giant’s heart melted as he looked out. ‘How selfish I have
been!’ he said; ‘now I know why the Spring would not come here. I will put
that poor little boy on the top of the tree, and then I will knock down the
wall, and my garden shall be the children’s playground for ever and ever.’
He was really very sorry for what he had done.
So he crept downstairs and opened the front door quite softly, and
went out into the garden. But when the children saw him they were so
frightened that they all ran away, and the garden became Winter again.
Only the little boy did not run, for his eyes were so full of tears that he
died not see the Giant coming. And the Giant stole up behind him and
took him gently in his hand, and put him up into the tree.
And the tree broke at once into blossom, and the birds came and
sang on it, and the little boy stretched out his two arms and flung them
round the Giant’s neck, and kissed him. And the other children, when they
saw that the Giant was not wicked any longer, came running back, and
with them came the Spring. ‘It is your garden now, little children,’ said the
Giant, and he took a great axe and knocked down the wall. And when the
people were gong to market at twelve o’clock they found the Giant playing
with the children in the most beautiful garden they had ever seen.
All day long they played, and in the evening they came to the Giant to
bid him good-bye.
‘But where is your little companion?’ he said: ‘the boy I put into the
tree.’ The Giant loved him the best because he had kissed him.
‘We don’t know,’ answered the children; ‘he has gone away.’
‘You must tell him to be sure and come here to-morrow,’ said the
Giant. But the children said that they did not know where he lived, and
had never seen him before; and the Giant felt very sad.
Every afternoon, when school was over, the children came and played
with the Giant. But the little boy whom the Giant loved was never seen
again. The Giant was very kind to all the children, yet he longed for his
first little friend, and often spoke of him. ‘How I would like to see him!’ he
used to say.
Years went over, and the Giant grew very old and feeble. He could not
play about any more, so he sat in a huge armchair, and watched the
children at their games, and admired his garden. ‘I have many beautiful
flowers,’ he said; ‘but the children are the most beautiful flowers of all.’
One winter morning he looked out of his window as he was dressing.
He did not hate the Winter now, for he knew that it was merely the Spring
asleep, and that the flowers were resting.
Suddenly he rubbed his eyes in wonder, and looked and looked. It
certainly was a marvellous sight. In the farthest corner of the garden was
a tree quite covered with lovely white blossoms. Its branches were all
golden, and silver fruit hung down from them, and underneath it stood the
little boy he had loved.
Downstairs ran the Giant in great joy, and out into the garden. He
hastened across the grass, and came near to the child. And when he
came quite close his face grew red with anger, and he said, ‘Who hath
dared to wound thee?’ For on the palms of the child’s hands were the
prints of two nails, and the prints of two nails were on the little feet.
‘Who hath dared to wound thee?’ cried the Giant; ‘tell me, that I may
take my big sword and slay him.’
‘Nay!’ answered the child; ‘but these are the wounds of Love.’
‘Who art thou?’ said the Giant, and a strange awe fell on him, and he
knelt before the little child.
And the child smiled on the Giant, and said to him, ‘You let me play
once in your garden, to-day you shall come with me to my garden, which
is Paradise.’
And when the children ran in that afternoon, they found the Giant lying
dead under the tree, all covered with white blossoms.
