迪士尼英文原版.阿拉丁 Aladdin(txt+pdf+epub+mobi电子书下载)

作者：迪士尼

出版社：华东理工大学出版社有限公司

格式: AZW3, DOCX, EPUB, MOBI, PDF, TXT

迪士尼英文原版.阿拉丁 Aladdin试读：

Prologue

The mariner stared out at the endless sea before him. If he squinted his eyes and tilted his head just so, he could almost imagine that the waves were dunes of sand, undulating and rippling in the heat of the sun. The squawking of the seagulls hovering above the lone sail that powered his vessel could be, if he listened hard enough, the calls of the camels on the way to market. The sun, though, that was the same—on land or sea.

The mariner sighed. He loved the wildness and freedom of the open ocean. He adored waking at his leisure and doing what he wanted with the day, answering to no one but himself and his family. But he did, at times, miss his home in the sands of the desert.

Hearing an excited shout, the man smiled, the expression brightening his handsome face. The touch of longing disappeared, and he appeared to light up from within. Turning, he looked over at the cause of his happiness. His two children, Lindy and Barro, had come above deck and were leaning over the railing.

“Wow,” Lindy said.

“Wow,” repeated her younger brother.

Following their gazes, the mariner looked over the railing of his modest ship and saw, in the distance, a not-so-modest ship sailing toward them. It was huge, with many masts boasting brilliantly colored sails. While the sides of the mariner’s boat were peeled and in need of a coat of paint, the sides of the other ship were gleaming as if freshly painted that morning. Manning the decks were sailors wearing spotless clothes and, squinting, the mariner could make out elaborate decorations covering the masts and railings.

“Wish ours was that fancy,” Barro said with a sigh.

The mariner turned back to his children and raised one eyebrow. “Why? Because it looks better?” He waited for an answer. Getting nothing but shrugs, he went on. “This boat has taken us through many a storm. It might not look like much, but it has something theirs never will ....”

“Wood rot and rats?” Barro asked, teasing his father.

The mariner shot his son a look. “Turn around, close your eyes. Now feel how our boat beats with the rhythm of the great unknown. That is its heart. Understand that true value lies deep within.” He paused, watching as his two beautiful children listened to his words. At nine and six they were still so young. More than anything, he wanted them to hold on to that innocence. “Now, which ship would you rather have?” he finally asked, when he had given them time to think.

The children’s eyes popped open. They glanced at each other. And then, in unison, they answered, “Theirs.”

The mariner groaned as the kids began to giggle. Apparently, his lesson had gone unlearned. He needed a new approach. Some way to make his children see how lucky they were to have the waves be their backyard and the ship, their schoolroom. How lucky they were to live each day with grand possibilities and adventure. The mariner narrowed his eyes. How could he get them to see what he wanted them to see?

Then a smile began to tug at his lips. What he needed was a story. And he happened to know a very good one. “I think it’s time I told you the story of Aladdin and the princess and the lamp.”

Lindy made a face. “What’s so special about a lamp?” she asked.

“It’s a magic lamp ....”

The children exchanged a skeptical look. But then they shrugged. “We’re listening,” Barro said.

“Well, listen carefully. Because looks can be deceiving. Especially in a place like ... Agrabah!”

1

The sun rose slowly, its light creeping out over the horizon and across the dunes of sand until, at last, it touched the great walls of the city of Agrabah and the brilliant blue sea beyond. Awash in the morning light, the city appeared to glow gold, its fabled bazaars and streets coming to life. The scents of cardamom and other exotic spices filled the air, giving the area a rich perfume all its own. Down at the docks, ships sailed in, their hulls full of treasures from the far reaches of the world. Captains shouted orders to the sailors as they prepared the boats going out to sea, carrying with them all the riches Agrabah had to offer. Above, seabirds circled, their calls as constant as the water lapping on the shore.

In the market, vendors opened their stalls, filling boxes with bright fruits and vegetables, silks and satins, and other exotic treasures they would haggle over and sell when the market opened. Musicians toting instruments took their places throughout the market, in the shade cast by the large palace that loomed over the entire city. They would soon fill the streets with delightful sounds and, when the day turned to night, bring the citizens of the city out to get lost in the dances and trances of the Arabian night. It was a magical place. A place where it seemed anything was possible and where the streets were full of adventure.

But it wasn’t an easy place to make a living. Not for those who called the streets their home. While the palace of Agrabah reflected the region’s riches, its streets reflected its reality. To make it, you had to be quick—on your feet and with your wit.

Aladdin stared out at the marketplace. It was quickly growing busy as servants and merchants and townsfolk began to go about their daily business, haggling over prices, looking for the freshest fruit or a special silk. Half a dozen different languages filtered through the air, creating a symphony of sound that was oddly soothing. For Aladdin, the sounds, the people, and the hubbub of the marketplace were as familiar as the back of his own hand. Agrabah had been his home for every day of his twenty years. Born a street rat, he had remained a street rat; the corridors and stalls and alleyways had been his playground, his school. The market was where he had honed his skills at “borrowing” what he needed, when he needed it. He knew that most of those who lived like him had given up hope long ago. They were resigned to a life of just getting by. But not Aladdin. Lifting his eyes to the palace beyond, he felt the same familiar rush he felt every time he took in its towers and caught a hint of the lush gardens beyond. He knew—or rather, he believed—there was more to life. He was going to be somebody—even if that meant just being the best street rat in Agrabah.

Shaking his head, Aladdin began to move through the market. Now was not the time to get lost in daydreams. He had more pressing and real issues—like finding breakfast. As his growling stomach was now reminding him, it had been a day since he had eaten anything and he was in the mood for something sweet. A pomegranate, or maybe a spiced bun from Saja’s stall. She always made the best pastries. Just thinking about it made his mouth water. Heading in that direction, he continued planning his day. One thing his less-than-ordinary life required was a plan—and a backup plan to that plan. That morning, he would head to the docks to spot what new goods had arrived in Agrabah with the dawn tide. They would end up in the market the following day, and any street rat worth his salt knew it was best to know what to go after—before anyone else got their hands on it.

On his shoulder, his best friend, a monkey named Abu, chattered away. Nodding absently in reply as the monkey let out a particularly shrill set of screeches, Aladdin nearly bumped into a woman. Startled, he took a step back. But then a large smile spread across his face as he took in the brilliant—and clearly very expensive—jewel at her throat.

“What’s your monkey’s name?” the woman asked.

“Abu,” Aladdin said. In response, Abu tipped the small fez he wore on his head and scampered from Aladdin’s shoulder to the woman’s arm.

The woman let out a delighted laugh. “He’s a lovely monkey,” she said, cooing to Abu as he weaved around her shoulders.

Aladdin shot the monkey a look. Abu nodded and continued to scamper, faster and faster. Then, turning his attention back to the woman, Aladdin nodded at her neck. “And that’s a lovely necklace,” he pointed out.

Reaching a hand to her throat, the woman touched the bright jewel hanging off the thick chain around her neck. Aladdin’s eyes followed her fingers, but his ears stayed tuned to the noises around him. He had been on the streets long enough to know when he was being conned. And beautiful, beguiling women didn’t just walk up to young street rats without some intention—and it was usually not a good intention. Sure enough, he heard a rustle and then felt the slightest of tugs on the bag he carried over his shoulder.

Quick as a wink, Aladdin reached over his shoulder, grabbing a thin, smooth hand just as it reached into his bag. Pulling the hand forward, he found himself face-to-face with another young woman, clearly the accomplice. He knew this routine. Distract and snatch. “Hello,” he said, flashing one of his most charming smiles, which lit up his face and made him still more handsome. “I think that belongs to me. Should’ve gone for the pocket, but you had to go for the bag. Greed ... it’ll get you every time.”

The woman who had initially caught Aladdin’s attention shrugged. “Didn’t have anything worth stealing anyway,” she said. Turning, the two slunk off into the crowds of the market. Aladdin could hear them grumbling and knew they were already looking for their next mark.

After all, that was what he would have been doing.

Quickly, Aladdin shimmied up the rough wall of a nearby building. Jumping over onto the roof, he waited for Abu to join him. “How’d we do?” he asked the monkey.

In answer, Abu ran up onto Aladdin’s shoulder and held out his tiny hand. Clutched in it was the necklace the woman had been wearing. “Good monkey,” Aladdin said, pleased. He knew that he looked the part of an easy con. He was anything but. Lifting the necklace so it caught the sun and sparkled enticingly, Aladdin smiled more broadly. And now he was a street rat who was that much richer.

2

Dalia stood, arms crossed, waiting. On the other side of the elaborate doors to her mistress’s chambers, she could hear the heavy footsteps of the palace guards coming closer. She could also hear Jasmine’s protests as the princess tried to talk her way out of her current situation.

A moment later, the doors swung open, revealing Jasmine. The princess attempted to retain some dignity as she was unceremoniously shown inside, and the doors slammed shut behind her. Dalia tried not to smile.

“How far did you make it this time?” Dalia asked.

Jasmine raised one perfectly arched eyebrow. “I thought I saw a gate they missed,” she said. She began to pace around her chambers. More library than bedroom, her chambers’ walls were covered in maps, and books lined the shelves and toppled over on tables and chairs. Lush, thick curtains framed tall windows that looked out over the city—her city—below.

Dalia followed behind Jasmine, her voice growing gentle. She knew how desperately Jasmine longed to see more than the walls of the palace. But Dalia also knew what Jasmine did deep down—that Jasmine was the princess of Agrabah. And as such, her place seemed to be behind the walls. “Don’t worry, one day you’ll escape,” she said, trying to sound positive.

Jasmine let out a sigh. “How can I lead a people I don’t even know?” she asked. Walking toward a window, she looked out into the courtyard. The trees nearest the window had all been trimmed so that Jasmine could not attempt to climb down them (again！《

3

4

“No one is asking you to,” Dalia pointed out. “All you have to do is wake up and act like a princess and wait for death.”

“As enticing as that sounds,” Jasmine replied, raising an eyebrow at her friend’s poor attempt at humor, “I want more than that. I want to be with the people of Agrabah.” She walked the rest of the way to the window and flopped down on the large window seat. Raja, her beloved tiger, padded up and placed his large head in Jasmine’s lap. Absently, Jasmine began to pat the creature’s beautiful head. She had had the tiger since Raja was a cub. The animal’s large size, huge paws, and sharp teeth were practically unnoticeable to Jasmine. All she saw was a friend and companion, one constant in the palace life around her. The other constant? Her desire to go beyond the palace walls.

Her world was limited—her opulent chambers, the garden with its plants and animals placed to make it feel as though the environs were natural. But like her happiness in her home, it was all a facade. The garden was nothing more than pretend, and most of the time, Jasmine felt that she, too, was pretending. Pretending to love her life, pretending to care about her silly day-to-day tasks. She sighed. No. She wasn’t happy spending her days reading about other people living their lives to the fullest, sultans risking it all for their people. She wanted to be living those things herself, doing them herself. “Tell me again about the market,” she finally said, gazing over at her handmaiden.

Dalia smiled gently. She loved Jasmine like a sister. They were, in many ways, as close as sisters. Dalia had been a part of Jasmine’s life for as long as the princess could remember. And as such, there were times, even though Jasmine was the princess and Dalia the handmaiden, that Dalia wished she could ignore Jasmine’s requests. Especially when it was the same request she had heard countless times before. “Remember the time you wanted to see where I live?” Dalia said. Jasmine nodded. “Then, when you saw it you screamed, and then you were sad?” Dalia continued.

Jasmine frowned and shook her head. That was not how it had happened. Not exactly, at least. There may have been some tears, but she was pretty sure that was just because she stubbed her toe, not because seeing where Dalia lived made her sad.

Ignoring the princess’s look, Dalia went on. “The market is exactly like that,” she said. “Why would you want to go there?”

Getting to her feet, Jasmine began to walk around her chambers, her fingers brushing along the myriad of maps that lined the walls. Some were ancient, their edges frayed and their writing faded. Others were newer, marking territory claimed by Agrabah during Jasmine’s twenty years. Old or new, Jasmine loved them all. But maps weren’t enough anymore. She wanted to be more than just an observer of her country and her people. She just needed to convince her father. “I know these maps better than I know my own city,” she said softly. “Help me sneak out, Dalia. If I can prove to Baba that I have the knowledge and experience to lead, he might change his mind. And I’ll never learn any of that stuck in a palace.” Her words bounced around the chamber and Jasmine could hear the desperation in her own voice.

Dalia shook her head. “If you get caught, I’ll be thrown in the dungeon.”

“You know I’d never let anything happen to you,” Jasmine said.

“The dungeon,” Dalia repeated. “That is the thing that would be happening to me.”

It was time to change tactics. Walking over to her, Jasmine took her handmaiden’s hands in her own and gave her the most pathetic expression it seemed she could muster. Dalia was a softy deep down. Jasmine just needed to pull on the right heartstring. “Any moment now, I’ll end up married to some puffed-up prince and I may never get this chance again,” the princess continued. The thought of being shackled to someone she didn’t love did in fact make Jasmine’s heart ache and her eyes water. “Please, Dalia?”

Dalia sighed. Then slowly, she began to nod. “I hate that I’m weak and can be talked into anything and can’t say no,” she said, trying not to smile.

But Jasmine wasn’t listening. The princess had let out an excited squeal and was clapping her hands together happily. Then she threw her arms around her best friend.

“I wish I didn’t love you,” Dalia said.

Jasmine just squeezed harder. Wishes weren’t real. But going to see the market? That was finally, really happening.

Jasmine nervously pulled at the hem of her cloak, wishing she hadn’t been so quick to brush off Dalia’s offer to accompany her. It would have been comforting to know where she was going. But as she made her way deeper into the market, she soon forgot to be nervous, instead growing enchanted by the multitude of new smells, sounds, and sights. She had read so much about her own city and now it was coming to life in front of her very eyes. She wanted to squeal with excitement but quickly thought better of it.

Everything seemed brighter, Jasmine thought as she walked through the stalls. The palace was beautiful and opulent, but it was muted. The windows filtered the full strength of the sun, and the thick walls meant to keep out the heat of the day also kept out the smells. Here nothing was muted. She passed among the stalls, her eyes growing wide as she took in purple eggplants and yellow bananas, green melons and glistening oranges lined up to tantalize passersby. More stalls were filled with spices from around the world, their scents pungent and unfamiliar. Lifting a hand, Jasmine ran a finger over a row of rugs. She smiled as her eyes wandered over an intricate pattern on red-and-yellow fabric, the shot of blue throughout reminding her of Agrabah itself and its proximity to the sea. It was no wonder people who came to Agrabah were instantly enchanted. She had lived there her whole life and yet felt like she was seeing this city of rainbow colors for the first time.

Catching sight of a particularly beautiful piece of pottery, Jasmine headed toward the other side of the market. She let out a startled cry as she nearly tripped over a young child hunched on the ground, picking at the meager crumbs of bread that had fallen from a cart. Her eyes welled with tears as she took in the boy’s protruding ribs and the fevered way he shoved morsels of food into his mouth, as though he hadn’t eaten in days.

She was so focused on him that she didn’t register the handsome man standing nearby, juggling apples and teasing the fruit vendor. Nor did she bother to notice that the vendor, while ignoring the juggling man, was eyeing her warily. Concealed beneath the cloak of her borrowed servant’s uniform, she only had eyes for the boy and the girl who had joined him, also making a meal from crumbs.

Reaching up, Jasmine pulled two loaves of bread from the nearby stall and handed them to the children. “There you go ...” she said.

The children didn’t hesitate. Grabbing the loaves, they shoved them under their arms and took off. Suddenly, there was a shout from the next stall. Looking over, she saw that the owner was staring at her angrily. His fists were clenched. “You steal from my brother!” he cried.

Jasmine gulped. This was exactly what Dalia had warned her not to do. “Don’t draw any attention to yourself, Princess,” she had said while trying to answer Jasmine’s endless questions about what to expect beyond the gates. Jasmine’s love of learning extended beyond just maps. Finding out as much as she could about her city before she went out into it felt natural—even if it drove Dalia slightly crazy. “Keep your head down. Look all you want but do not touch. The last thing you want is someone noticing you.”

Unfortunately, someone was definitely noticing her now.

Holding up her hands, Jasmine tried to placate the vendor. “Stealing, no sir,” she began. “I don’t know your brother—” She was cut short as the man grabbed her by the arm and pushed back the long sleeve of her cloak. The gold from the bracelet she had forgotten to take off glimmered in the sun.

“Stop!” she said with as much authority as she could muster, struggling in the man’s tightening grip. Her heart was pounding against her chest. If he pulled off her cloak, he might discover who she really was. And if that happened, her father would find out and she might not get another chance to see everything that lay beyond the palace walls.

“Take it easy, Jamal, that’s no way to treat a lady.”

The kind voice startled Jasmine and she turned, wrenching her arm free. A young man stood near her, his dark brown eyes curious and calm despite the anger radiating from Jamal. Behind him, Jasmine could see several members of the city guard pushing their way through the growing crowd of people.

“Keep your street-rat nose out of it!” Jamal shouted. Clearly, the two knew each other.

As Jasmine watched, a small monkey scampered up the young man’s arm and made to attack Jamal. But the man pulled the monkey’s tail, shaking his head no. Then he turned and looked directly at Jasmine. For a split second, she forgot to breathe. There was

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