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'I and Love；〃 he cried； 〃that would have an absurd look。 How the
public would shout！' 'Certainly； you are in love；' she continued；
and added with a comic pathos； 'and I am the person you are in love
with。' You see； such a thing may be said when it is quite out of the
question… and； indeed； Pulcinella burst out laughing； and gave a
leap into the air； and his melancholy was forgotten。
〃And yet she had only spoken the truth。 He did love her； love
her adoringly； as he loved what was great and lofty in art。 At her
wedding he was the merriest among the guests； but in the stillness
of night he wept： if the public had seen his distorted face then； they
would have applauded rapturously。
〃And a few days ago； Columbine died。 On the day of the funeral；
Harlequin was not required to show himself on the boards； for he was a disconsolate widower。 The director had to give a very merry piece；
that the public might not too painfully miss the pretty Columbine
and the agile Harlequin。 Therefore Pulcinella had to be more
boisterous and extravagant than ever； and he danced and capered；
with despair in his heart； and the audience yelled； and shouted
'bravo； bravissimo！' Pulcinella was actually called before the
curtain。 He was pronounced inimitable。
〃But last night the hideous little fellow went out of the town；
quite alone； to the deserted churchyard。 The wreath of flowers on
Columbine's grave was already faded； and he sat down there。 It was a
study for a painter。 As he sat with his chin on his hands； his eyes
turned up towards me； he looked like a grotesque monument… a Punch on a grave… peculiar and whimsical！ If the people could have seen their favourite； they would have cried as usual； 'Bravo； Pulcinella； bravo； bravissimo！'〃
SIXTEENTH EVENING
Hear what the Moon told me。 〃I have seen the cadet who had just
been made an officer put on his handsome uniform for the first time； I
have seen the young bride in her wedding dress； and the princess
girl…wife happy in her gorgeous robes； but never have I seen a
felicity equal to that of a little girl of four years old； whom I
watched this evening。 She had received a new blue dress； and a new
pink hat； the splendid attire had just been put on； and all were
calling for a candle； for my rays； shining in through the windows of
the room； were not bright enough for the occasion； and further
illumination was required。 There stood the little maid； stiff and
upright as a doll； her arms stretched painfully straight out away from
the dress； and her fingers apart； and oh； what happiness beamed from
her eyes； and from her whole countenance！ 'To…morrow you shall go
out in your new clothes；' said her mother； and the little one looked
up at her hat； and down at her frock； and smiled brightly。 'Mother；'
she cried； 'what will the little dogs think； when they see me in these
splendid new things？'〃
SEVENTEENTH EVENING
〃I have spoken to you of Pompeii；〃 said the Moon； 〃that corpse
of a city； exposed in the view of living towns： I know another sight
still more strange； and this is not the corpse； but the spectre of a
city。 Whenever the jetty fountains splash into the marble basins； they
seem to me to be telling the story of the floating city。 Yes； the
spouting water may tell of her； the waves of the sea may sing of her
fame！ On the surface of the ocean a mist often rests； and that is
her widow's veil。 The bridegroom of the sea is dead； his palace and
his city are his mausoleum！ Dost thou know this city？ She has never
heard the rolling of wheels or the hoof…tread of horses in her
streets； through which the fish swim； while the black gondola glides
spectrally over the green water。 I will show you the place；〃 continued
the Moon； 〃the largest square in it； and you will fancy yourself
transported into the city of a fairy tale。 The grass grows rank
among the broad flagstones； and in the morning twilight thousands of
tame pigeons flutter around the solitary lofty tower。 On three sides
you find yourself surrounded by cloistered walks。 In these the
silent Turk sits smoking his long pipe； the handsome Greek leans
against the pillar and gazes at the upraised trophies and lofty masts；
memorials of power that is gone。 The flags hang down like mourning
scarves。 A girl rests there： she has put down her heavy pails filled
with water； the yoke with which she has carried them rests on one of
her shoulders； and she leans against the mast of victory。 That is
not a fairy palace you see before you yonder； but a church： the gilded
domes and shining orbs flash back my beams； the glorious bronze horses up yonder have made journeys； like the bronze horse in the fairy tale： they have come hither； and gone hence； and have returned again。 Do you notice the variegated splendour of the walls and windows？ It looks as if Genius had followed the caprices of a child； in the adornment of these singular temples。 Do you see the winged lion on the pillar？
The gold glitters still； but his wings are tied… the lion is dead； for
the king of the sea is dead； the great halls stand desolate； and where
gorgeous paintings hung of yore； the naked wall now peers through。
The lazzarone sleeps under the arcade； whose pavement in old times was to be trodden only by the feet of high nobility。 From the deep
wells； and perhaps from the prisons by the Bridge of Sighs； rise the
accents of woe； as at the time when the tambourine was heard in the
gay gondolas； and the golden ring was cast from the Bucentaur to
Adria； the queen of the seas。 Adria！ shroud thyself in mists； let
the veil of thy widowhood shroud thy form； and clothe in the weeds
of woe the mausoleum of thy bridegroom… the marble； spectral Venice。〃
EIGHTEENTH EVENING
〃I looked down upon a great theatre；〃 said the Moon。 〃The house
was crowded； for a new actor was to make his first appearance that
night。 My rays glided over a little window in the wall； and I saw a
painted face with the forehead pressed against the panes。 It was the
hero of the evening。 The knighly beard curled crisply about the
chin； but there were tears in the man's eyes； for he had been hissed
off； and indeed with reason。 The poor Incapable！ But Incapables cannot be admitted into the empire of Art。 He had deep feeling； and loved his art enthusiastically； but the art loved not him。 The prompter's bell sounded； 'the hero enters with a determined air；' so ran the stage direction in his part； and he had to appear before an audience who turned him into ridicule。 When the piece was over； I saw a form wrapped in a mantle； creeping down the steps： it was the vanquished knight of the evening。 The scene…shifters whispered to one another； and I followed the poor fellow home to his room。 To hang one's self is to die a mean death； and poison is not always at hand； I know； but he thought of both。 I saw how he looked at his pale face in the glass； with eyes half closed； to see if he should look well as a corpse。 A man may be very unhappy； and yet exceedingly affected。 He thought of death； of suicide； I believe he pitied himself； for he wept bitterly； and when a man has had his cry out he doesn't kill himself。
〃Since that time a year had rolled by。 Again a play was to be
acted； but in a little theatre； and by a poor strolling company。 Again
I saw the well…remembered face； with the painted cheeks and the
crisp beard。 He looked up at me and smiled； and yet he had been hissed off only a minute before… hissed off from a wretched theatre； by a miserable audience。 And tonight a shabby hearse rolled out of the town…gate。 It was a suicide… our painted； despised hero。 The driver of the hearse was the only person present； for no one followed except my beams。 In a corner of the churchyard the corpse of the suicide was shovelled into the earth； and nettles will soon be growing
rankly over his grave； and the sexton will throw thorns and weeds from the other graves upon it。〃
NINETEENTH EVENING
〃I come from Rome；〃 said the Moon。 〃In the midst of the city； upon
one of the seven hills； lie the ruins of the imperial palace。 The wild
fig tree grows in the clefts of the wall； and covers the nakedness
thereof with its broad grey…green leaves； trampling among heaps of
rubbish； the ass treads upon green laurels； and rejoices over the rank
thistles。 From this spot； whence the eagles of Rome once flew
abroad； whence they 'came； saw； and conquered；' our door leads into
a little mean house； built of clay between two pillars； the wild
vine hangs like a mourning garland over the crooked window。 An old
woman and her little granddaughter live there： they rule now in the
palace of the Caesars； and show to strangers the remains of its past
glories。 Of the splendid throne…hall only a naked wall yet stands； and
a black cypress throws its dark shadow on the spot where the throne
once stood。 The dust lies several feet deep on the broken pavement；
and the little maiden； now the daughter of the imperial palace；
often sits there on her stool when the evening bells ring。 The keyhole
of the door close by she calls her turret window； through this she can
see half Rome； as far as the mighty cupola of St。 Peter's。
〃On this evening； as usual； stillness reigned around； and in the
full beam of my light ca