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〃On this evening； as usual； stillness reigned around； and in the
full beam of my light came the little granddaughter。 On her head she
carried an earthen pitcher of antique shape filled with water。 Her
feet were bare； her short frock and her white sleeves were torn。 I
kissed her pretty round shoulders； her dark eyes； and black shining
hair。 She mounted the stairs； they were steep； having been made up
of rough blocks of broken marble and the capital of a fallen pillar。
The coloured lizards slipped away； startled； from before her feet； but
she was not frightened at them。 Already she lifted her hand to pull
the door…bell… a hare's foot fastened to a string formed the
bell…handle of the imperial palace。 She paused for a moment… of what
might she be thinking？ Perhaps of the beautiful Christ…child；
dressed in gold and silver； which was down below in the chapel；
where the silver candlesticks gleamed so bright； and where her
little friends sung the hymns in which she also could join？ I know
not。 Presently she moved again… she stumbled： the earthen vessel
fell from her head； and broke on the marble steps。 She burst into
tears。 The beautiful daughter of the imperial palace wept over the
worthless broken pitcher； with her bare feet she stood there
weeping； and dared not pull the string； the bell…rope of the
imperial palace！〃
TWENTIETH EVENING
It was more than a fortnight since the Moon had shone。 Now he
stood once more； round and bright； above the clouds； moving slowly
onward。 Hear what the Moon told me。
〃From a town in Fezzan I followed a caravan。 On the margin of
the sandy desert； in a salt plain； that shone like a frozen lake；
and was only covered in spots with light drifting sand； a halt was
made。 The eldest of the company… the water gourd hung at his girdle；
and on his head was a little bag of unleavened bread… drew a square in
the sand with his staff； and wrote in it a few words out of the Koran；
and then the whole caravan passed over the consecrated spot。 A young merchant； a child of the East； as I could tell by his eye and his
figure； rode pensively forward on his white snorting steed。 Was he
thinking； perchance； of his fair young wife？ It was only two days
ago that the camel； adorned with furs and with costly shawls； had
carried her； the beauteous bride； round the walls of the city； while
drums and cymbals had sounded； the women sang； and festive shots； of which the bridegroom fired the greatest number； resounded round the camel； and now he was journeying with the caravan across the desert。
〃For many nights I followed the train。 I saw them rest by the
wellside among the stunted palms； they thrust the knife into the
breast of the camel that had fallen； and roasted its flesh by the
fire。 My beams cooled the glowing sands； and showed them the black
rocks； dead islands in the immense ocean of sand。 No hostile tribes
met them in their pathless route； no storms arose； no columns of
sand whirled destruction over the journeying caravan。 At home the
beautiful wife prayed for her husband and her father。 'Are they dead？'
she asked of my golden crescent； 'Are they dead？' she cried to my full disc。 Now the desert lies behind them。 This evening they sit beneath the lofty palm trees； where the crane flutters round them with its long wings； and the pelican watches them from the branches of the
mimosa。 The luxuriant herbage is trampled down； crushed by the feet of elephants。 A troop of negroes are returning from a market in the
interior of the land： the women； with copper buttons in their black
hair； and decked out in clothes dyed with indigo； drive the
heavily…laden oxen； on whose backs slumber the naked black children。 A negro leads a young lion which he has brought； by a string。 They approach the caravan； the young merchant sits pensive and motionless； thinking of his beautiful wife； dreaming； in the land of
the blacks； of his white lily beyond the desert。 He raises his head；
and… 〃 But at this moment a cloud passed before the Moon； and then
another。 I heard nothing more from him this evening。
TWENTY…FIRST EVENING
〃I saw a little girl weeping；〃 said the Moon； 〃she was weeping
over the depravity of the world。 She had received a most beautiful
doll as a present。 Oh； that was a glorious doll； so fair and delicate！
She did not seem created for the sorrows of this world。 But the
brothers of the little girl； those great naughty boys； had set the
doll high up in the branches of a tree and had run away。
〃The little girl could not reach up to the doll； and could not
help her down； and that is why she was crying。 The doll must certainly have been crying too； for she stretched out her arms among the green branches； and looked quite mournful。 Yes； these are the troubles of life of which the little girl had often heard tell。 Alas； poor doll！ it began to grow dark already； and suppose night were to come on completely！ Was she to be left sitting on the bough all night long？
No； the little maid could not make up her mind to that。 'I'll stay
with you；' she said； although she felt anything but happy in her mind。
She could almost fancy she distinctly saw little gnomes； with their
high…crowned hats； sitting in the bushes； and further back in the long
walk； tall spectres appeared to be dancing。 They came nearer and
nearer； and stretched out their hands towards the tree on which the
doll sat； they laughed scornfully； and pointed at her with their
fingers。 Oh； how frightened the little maid was！ 'But if one has not
done anything wrong；' she thought； 'nothing evil can harm one。 I
wonder if I have done anything wrong？' And she considered。 'Oh； yes！ I laughed at the poor duck with the red rag on her leg； she limped along so funnily； I could not help laughing； but it's a sin to laugh at
animals。' And she looked up at the doll。 'Did you laugh at the duck
too？' she asked； and it seemed as if the doll shook her head。〃
TWENTY…SECOND EVENING
〃I looked down upon Tyrol；〃 said the Moon； 〃and my beams caused
the dark pines to throw long shadows upon the rocks。 I looked at the
pictures of St。 Christopher carrying the Infant Jesus that are painted
there upon the walls of the houses； colossal figures reaching from the
ground to the roof。 St。 Florian was represented pouring water on the
burning house； and the Lord hung bleeding on the great cross by the
wayside。 To the present generation these are old pictures； but I saw
when they were put up； and marked how one followed the other。 On the brow of the mountain yonder is perched； like a swallow's nest； a
lonely convent of nuns。 Two of the sisters stood up in the tower
tolling the bell； they were both young； and therefore their glances
flew over the mountain out into the world。 A travelling coach passed
by below； the postillion wound his horn； and the poor nuns looked
after the carriage for a moment with a mournful glance； and a tear
gleamed in the eyes of the younger one。 And the horn sounded faint and more faintly； and the convent bell drowned its expiring echoes。〃
TWENTY…THIRD EVENING
Hear what the Moon told me。 〃Some years ago； here in Copenhagen； I looked through the window of a mean little room。 The father and mother slept； but the little son was not asleep。 I saw the flowered cotton curtains of the bed move； and the child peep forth。 At first I thought he was looking at the great clock； which was gaily painted in red and green。 At the top sat a cuckoo； below hung the heavy leaden
weights； and the pendulum with the polished disc of metal went to
and fro； and said 'tick； tick。' But no； he was not looking at the
clock； but at his mother's spinning wheel； that stood just
underneath it。 That was the boy's favourite piece of furniture； but he
dared not touch it； for if he meddled with it he got a rap on the
knuckles。 For hours together； when his mother was spinning； he would sit quietly by her side； watching the murmuring spindle and the
revolving wheel； and as he sat he thought of many things。 Oh； if he
might only turn the wheel himself！ Father and mother were asleep； he
looked at them； and looked at the spinning wheel； and presently a
little naked foot peered out of the bed； and then a second foot； and
then two little white legs。 There he stood。 He looked round once more； to see if father and mother were still asleep… yes； they slept； and
now he crept softly； softly； in his short little nightgown； to the
spinning wheel； and began to spin。 The thread flew from the wheel； and the wheel whirled faster and faster。 I kissed his fair hair and his
blue eyes； it was such a pretty picture。
〃At that moment the mother awoke。 The curtain shook； she looked
forth； and fancied she saw a gnome or some other kind of little
spectre。 'In Heaven's name！' she cried； and aroused her husband in a
frightened way。 He opened his eyes； rubbed them with his hands； and
looked at the brisk little lad。 'Why； that is Bertel；' said he。 And my
eye quitted the poor room； for I have so much to see。 At the same
moment I looked at the halls of the Vatican； where the marble gods are enthroned。 I shone upon the group of the Laocoon； the stone seemed to sigh。 I pressed a silent kiss on the lips of the Muses； and they seemed to stir and move。 But my rays ling