Latest / Hans Christian Andersen Fairytales & Short Stories Vol. 1 / 022 - What the Moon Saw Part 3

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022 - What the Moon Saw Part 3 · Hans Christian Andersen Fairytales & Short Stories Vol. 1

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Speaker 1: Section twenty two of Hans Christian Andersen Fairy Tales and
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Speaker 1: Short Stories, Volume one. This is a LibriVox recording. All
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Speaker 1: LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information
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Speaker 1: or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox dot org. Recording by
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Speaker 1: Noel Bairian. Hans Christian Andersen Fairy Tales and Short Stories,
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Speaker 1: Volume one, eighteen thirty five to eighteen forty two by
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Speaker 1: Hans Christian Andersen, translated by H. P. Paul What the
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Speaker 1: Moon Saw, Part three, twentieth evening. It was more than
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Speaker 1: a fortnight since the moon had shone. Now he stood
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Speaker 1: once more, round and bright above the clouds, moving slowly onward,
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Speaker 1: hear what the Moon told me. From a town in Fezan.
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Speaker 1: I followed a caravan on the margin of the sandy desert.
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Speaker 1: In as salt plain that shone like a frozen lake
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Speaker 1: and was only covered in spots with light drifting sand.
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Speaker 1: A halt was made the eldest of the community, the
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Speaker 1: water good, hung at his girdle, and on his head
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Speaker 1: was a little bag of unleavened bread. Drew a square
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Speaker 1: in the sand with his staff and wrote in it
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Speaker 1: a few words out of the Koran and then the
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Speaker 1: whole caravan passed over the consecrated spot. A young merchant,
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Speaker 1: a child of the East, as I could tell by
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Speaker 1: his eyes and his figure, rode pensively forward on his white,
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Speaker 1: snorting steed. He was thinking perchance of his fair young wife.
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Speaker 1: It was only two days ago that the camel, adorned
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Speaker 1: with furs and with costly shawls, had carried her, the
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Speaker 1: beauteous bride, round the walls of the city. While drums
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Speaker 1: and cymbals had sounded. The women sang, and festive shots,
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Speaker 1: of which the bridegroom fired the greater number resounded round
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Speaker 1: the camel. And now he was journeying with the caravan
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Speaker 1: across the desert. For many nights I followed the train.
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Speaker 1: I saw them rest by the well side, among the
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Speaker 1: stunted palms. They thrust the knife into the breast of
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Speaker 1: the camel that had fallen, and roasted its flesh. By
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Speaker 1: the fire. My beams cooled the glowing sands and showed
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Speaker 1: them the black rocks, dead islands in the immense ocean
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Speaker 1: of sand. No hostile tribes met them in their pathless route.
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Speaker 1: No storms arose, no columns of sand whorled destruction over
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Speaker 1: the journeying caravan. At home, the beautiful wife prayed for
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Speaker 1: her husband and her father. Are they dead, she asked,
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Speaker 1: of my golden crescent. Are they dead? She cried to
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Speaker 1: my full disk. Now the desert lies behind them. This
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Speaker 1: evening they sit beneath the lofty palm trees, where the
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Speaker 1: crane flutters around them with its long wings, and the
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Speaker 1: pelican watches them from the branches of the mimosa. The
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Speaker 1: luxuriant herbage is trampled down, crushed by the feet of elephants.
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Speaker 1: A troop of Negroes are returning from a market in
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Speaker 1: the interior of the land. The women, with copper buttons
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Speaker 1: in their black hair and decked out in clothes dyed
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Speaker 1: with indigo, drive the heavy laden oxen, on whose backs
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Speaker 1: slumber the naked black children. A negro leads a young lion,
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Speaker 1: which he has brought by a string. They approached the caravan.
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Speaker 1: The young merchants expensively and motionless, thinking of his beautiful wife,
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Speaker 1: dreaming in the land of the blacks of his white
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Speaker 1: lily beyond the desert. He raises his head and but
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Speaker 1: at this moment a cloud passed before the moon, and
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Speaker 1: then another. I heard nothing more from him. This evening
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Speaker 1: twenty first evening, I saw a little girl weeping, said
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Speaker 1: the moon. She was weeping over the depravity of the world.
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Speaker 1: She had received a most beautiful doll as a present. Oh,
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Speaker 1: that was a glory orrious doll, so fair and delicate.
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Speaker 1: She did not seem created for the sorrows of this world.
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Speaker 1: But the brothers of the little girl, those great naughty boys,
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Speaker 1: had set the doll high up in the branches of
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Speaker 1: a tree and had run away. The little girl could
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Speaker 1: not reach up to the doll and could not help
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Speaker 1: her down, and that is why she was crying. The
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Speaker 1: doll must certainly have been crying, too, for she stretched
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Speaker 1: out her arms among the green branches and looked quite mournful. Yes,
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Speaker 1: these are the troubles of life to which the little
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Speaker 1: girl had often heard tell alas poor doll. It began
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Speaker 1: to grow dark already, and supposed night were to come
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Speaker 1: on completely. Was she left to be sitting on the
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Speaker 1: bough all night long? No, the little maid could not
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Speaker 1: make up her mind to that. I'll stay with you,
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Speaker 1: she said, although she felt anything but happy. In her mind,
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Speaker 1: she could almost fancy She distinctly saw little nomes with
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Speaker 1: their high crowned hat sitting in the bushes, and further
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Speaker 1: back in the long walk, tall specters appeared to be dancing.
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Speaker 1: They came nearer and nearer and stretched out their hands
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Speaker 1: towards the tree on which the doll sat. They laughed
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Speaker 1: scornfully and pointed at her with their fingers. Oh, how
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Speaker 1: frightened the little maid was. But if one has not
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Speaker 1: done anything wrong, she thought, nothing evil can harm one.
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Speaker 1: I wonder if I have done anything wrong, And she considered, Oh, yes,
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Speaker 1: I laughed at the poor duck with the red rag
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Speaker 1: on her leg. She limped along so funnily. I could
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Speaker 1: not help laughing. But it's a sin to laugh at animals.
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Speaker 1: And she looked up at the doll. Did you laugh
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Speaker 1: at the duck too, she asked, And it seemed as
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Speaker 1: if the doll shook her head. Twenty second evening, I
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Speaker 1: looked down upon Tyrol, said, the moon and my beams
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Speaker 1: caused the dark pines to throw long shadows upon the rocks.
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Speaker 1: I looked at the pictures of Saint Christopher carrying the
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Speaker 1: Infant Jesus that are painted there upon the walls of
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Speaker 1: the houses, colossal figures reaching from the ground to the roof.
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Speaker 1: Saint Florian was represented pouring water on the burning house,
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Speaker 1: and the Lord hung bleeding on the great cross by
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Speaker 1: the wayside. To the present generation, these are old pictures,
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Speaker 1: but I saw when they were put up and marked
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Speaker 1: how one followed the other. On the brow of the
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Speaker 1: mountain Yonder is perched like a swallow's nest, a lonely
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Speaker 1: convent of nuns. Two of the sisters stood up in
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Speaker 1: the tower, tolling the bell. They were both young, and
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Speaker 1: therefore their glances flew over the mountains out into the world.
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Speaker 1: A traveling coach passed by below the postilion wound his horn,
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Speaker 1: and the poor nuns looked after the carriage for a
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Speaker 1: moment with a mournful glance, and a tear gleamed in
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Speaker 1: the eye eyes of the younger one. And the horn
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Speaker 1: sounded faint and more faintly, and the convent bell drowned
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Speaker 1: its expiring echoes. Twenty third evening, hear what the moon
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Speaker 1: told me some years ago here in Copenhagen. I looked
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Speaker 1: through the window of a mean little room. The father
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Speaker 1: and mother slept, but the little sun was not asleep.
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Speaker 1: I saw the flowered cotton curtains of the bed move
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Speaker 1: and the child peep forth. At first I thought he
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Speaker 1: was looking at the great clock, which was gaily painted
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Speaker 1: in red and green. At the top sat a cuckoo.
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Speaker 1: Below hung the heavy leaden weights, and the pendulum with
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Speaker 1: the polished disc of metal went to and fro and
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Speaker 1: said tick tick. But no, he was not looking at
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Speaker 1: the clock, but at his mother's spinning wheel that stood
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Speaker 1: just underneath it. That was the boy's favorite piece of furniture.
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Speaker 1: But he dared not touch it, for if he meddled
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Speaker 1: with it, he got a rap on the knuckles. For
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Speaker 1: hours together, when his mother was spinning, he would sit
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Speaker 1: quietly by her side, watching the murmuring spindle and the
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Speaker 1: revolving wheel. And as he sat he thought of many things. Oh,
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Speaker 1: if he might only turn the wheel himself. Father and
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Speaker 1: mother were asleep. He looked at them, and looked at
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Speaker 1: the spinning wheel, and presently a little naked foot peeped
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Speaker 1: out of the bed, and then a second foot, and
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Speaker 1: then two little white legs. There he stood. He looked
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Speaker 1: around once more to see if his father and mother
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Speaker 1: were still asleep. Yes, they slept, And now he crept softly,
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Speaker 1: softly in his short little nightgown to the spinning wheel
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Speaker 1: and began to spin. The thread flew from the wheel,
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Speaker 1: and the wheel whirled faster and faster. I kissed his
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Speaker 1: fair hair and his blue eyes. It was such a
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Speaker 1: pretty picture. At that moment the mother awoke, the curtain shook.
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Speaker 1: She looked forth and fancied she saw a gnome or
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Speaker 1: some other kind of little specter. In Heaven's name, she
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Speaker 1: cried and aroused her husband in a frightened way. He
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Speaker 1: opened his eyes, rubbed them with his hands, and looked
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Speaker 1: at the brisk little lad. Why that is Bertel, said he,
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Speaker 1: and my eye quitted the poor room, for I have
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Speaker 1: so much to see. At the same moment, I looked
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Speaker 1: at the halls of the Vatican, where the marble gods
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Speaker 1: are enthroned. I shone upon the group of the loocoon.
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Speaker 1: The stones seemed to sigh. I pressed a silent kiss
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Speaker 1: on the lips of the muses, and they seemed to
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Speaker 1: stir and move. But my rays lingered longest about the
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Speaker 1: nile group, with the colossal God leaning against the sphinx.
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Speaker 1: He lies there, thoughtful and meditative, as if he were
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Speaker 1: thinking on the rolling century and little love gods spot
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Speaker 1: with him, and with the crocodiles in the horn of plenty,
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Speaker 1: sat with folded arms, a little tiny love God contemplating
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Speaker 1: the great solemn river God. A true picture of the
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Speaker 1: boy at the spinning wheel. The features were exactly the same,
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Speaker 1: charming and lifelike stood the little marble form. And yet
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Speaker 1: the wheel of the Year has turned more than a
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Speaker 1: thousand times since the time when it sprang forth from
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Speaker 1: the stone, just as often as the boy in the
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Speaker 1: little room turned the spinning wheel. Had the great wheel
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Speaker 1: murmured before the age could again care forth marble gods
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Speaker 1: equal to those he afterwards formed. Years have passed since
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Speaker 1: all this happened. The moon went on to say, yesterday
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Speaker 1: I looked upon a bay on the eastern coast of Denmark.
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Speaker 1: Glorious woods are there, and high trees, an old knightly
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Speaker 1: castle with red walls, swans floating in the ponds and
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Speaker 1: in the background, and a peers among orchids. A little
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Speaker 1: town with the church. Many boats, the crews, all furnished
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Speaker 1: with torches, glided over the silent expanse. But these fires
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Speaker 1: had not been kindled for catching fish, for everything had
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Speaker 1: a festive look. Music sounded, a song was sung, and
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Speaker 1: in one of the boats. The man stood erect, to
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Speaker 1: whom homage was paid by the rest, A tall, sturdy
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Speaker 1: man wrapped in a cloak. He had blue eyes and
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Speaker 1: long white hair. I knew him, and thought of the Vatican,
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Speaker 1: and of the group of the Nile and the old
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Speaker 1: Marble gods. I thought of the simple little room where
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Speaker 1: little Berthel sat in his night shirt by the spinning wheel.
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Speaker 1: The wheel of time has turned, and new gods have
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Speaker 1: come forth from the stone. From the boats there arose
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Speaker 1: a shout, Hurrah, Hurrah for bertel Thor Waldson, twenty five,
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Speaker 1: fourth evening. I will now give you a picture of Frankfort,
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Speaker 1: said the moon. I especially noticed one building there. It
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Speaker 1: was not the house in which goth was born, nor
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Speaker 1: the old council house, through whose grated windows peered the
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Speaker 1: horns of the oxen that were roasted and given to
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Speaker 1: the people when the emperors were crowned. No, it was
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Speaker 1: a private house, plain in appearance and painted green. It
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Speaker 1: stood near the old Jew's Street. It was Rothschild's house.
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Speaker 1: I looked through the open door. The staircase was brilliantly lighted.
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Speaker 1: Servants carrying wax candles in massive silver candlesticks, stood there
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Speaker 1: and bowed low before an old woman who was being
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Speaker 1: brought down stairs in a litter. The proprietor of the
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Speaker 1: house stood bareheaded and respectfully imprinted a kiss on the
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Speaker 1: hand of the old woman. She was his mother. She
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Speaker 1: nodded in a friendly manner to him and to the servants,
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Speaker 1: and they carried her into the dark, narrow street, into
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Speaker 1: a little house that was her dwelling. Here her children
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Speaker 1: had been born from hence the fortune of the family
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Speaker 1: had arisen. If she deserted the despised street and the
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Speaker 1: little house, fortune would also desert her children. That was
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Speaker 1: her firm belief. The moon told me no more. His
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Speaker 1: visit this evening was far too short. But I thought
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Speaker 1: of the old woman in the narrow, despised street. It
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Speaker 1: would have cost her but a word and a brilliant
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Speaker 1: house would have arisen for her on the banks of
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Speaker 1: the Thames, a word and a villa would have been
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Speaker 1: prepared in the Bay of Naples. If I deserted the
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Speaker 1: lowly house where the fortunes of my sons first began
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Speaker 1: to bloom, fortune would desert them. It was a superstition,
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Speaker 1: but a superstition of such a class that he who
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Speaker 1: knows the story and has seen this picture, he'd have
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Speaker 1: only two words placed on the picture to make him
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Speaker 1: understand it. And these two words are a mother twenty
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Speaker 1: fifth evening. It was yesterday in the morning twilight. These
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Speaker 1: are the words the moon told me. In the great city,
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Speaker 1: no chimney was yet smoking, and it was just at
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Speaker 1: the chimneys that I was looking. Suddenly a little head
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Speaker 1: emerged from one of them, and then half a body,
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Speaker 1: the arms resting on the rim of the chimney pot.
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Speaker 1: Ya Hip Yahip, cried a voice. It was the little
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Speaker 1: chimney sweeper who had, for the first time in his life,
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Speaker 1: crept through a chimney and stuck out his head at
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Speaker 1: the top. Ya Hip Yahip. Yes, certainly that was a
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Speaker 1: very different thing to creeping about in the dark narrow chimneys.
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Speaker 1: The air blew so fresh, and he could look over
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Speaker 1: the whole city toward the green wood. The sun was
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Speaker 1: just rising. It shone round and great, just in his
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Speaker 1: face that beamed with triumph, though it was very prettily
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Speaker 1: blacked with soot. The whole town can see me now,
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Speaker 1: he exclaimed, and the moon can see me now, and
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Speaker 1: the sun too. Ya Hip ya hip, and he flourished
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Speaker 1: his broom in Triumph twenty sixth evening last night, I
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Speaker 1: looked down upon a town in China, said the moon.
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Speaker 1: My beams irradiated the naked walls that formed the streets. There.
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Speaker 1: Now and then, certainly a door is seen, but it
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Speaker 1: is locked. For what does the Chinaman care about the
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Speaker 1: outer world? Close wooden shutters covered the windows behind the
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Speaker 1: walls of the houses, but through the windows of the temple,
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Speaker 1: a faint light glimmered. I looked in and saw the
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Speaker 1: quaint decorations within. From the floor to the ceiling, pictures
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Speaker 1: are painted in the most glaring colors, and richly gilt
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Speaker 1: pictures representing the deeds of the gods here on earth.
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Speaker 1: In each niche statues are placed, but they are almost
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Speaker 1: entirely hidden by the colored drapery and the banners that
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Speaker 1: hang down before each idol, and they are all made
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Speaker 1: of tin. Stood a little altar of holy water, with
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Speaker 1: flowers and burning wax lights on it. Above all the
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Speaker 1: rest stood Foe, the chief deity, clad in a garment
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Speaker 1: of yellow silk, for yellow is here the sacred color.
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Speaker 1: At the foot of the altar sat a living being,
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Speaker 1: a young priest. He appeared to be praying, But in
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Speaker 1: the midst of his prayer he seemed to fall into
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Speaker 1: deep thought. And this must have been wrong, for his
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Speaker 1: cheeks glowed and he held down his head, Poor Sui Hong.
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Speaker 1: Was he perhaps dreaming of working in the little flower
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Speaker 1: garden behind the high street wall? And did that occupation
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Speaker 1: seem more agreeable to him than watching the wax lights
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Speaker 1: in the temple? Or did he wish to sit at
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Speaker 1: the rich feast why in his mouth with silver paper
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Speaker 1: between each course? Or was his sin so great that
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Speaker 1: if he dared utter it, the celestial Empire would punish
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Speaker 1: it with death. Had his thoughts ventured to fly with
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Speaker 1: the ships of the barbarians to their homes in far
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Speaker 1: distant England. No, his thoughts did not fly so far,
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Speaker 1: And yet they were sinful, sinful as thoughts born of
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Speaker 1: young hearts, sinful here in the temple, in the presence
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Speaker 1: of Foe and the other holy gods. I know whither
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Speaker 1: his thoughts had strayed. At the farther end of the city,
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Speaker 1: on the flat roof paved with porcelain, on which stood
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Speaker 1: the handsome vases covered with painted flowers, sat the beauteous pool,
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Speaker 1: of the roguish eyes, of full lips, and of the
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Speaker 1: tiny feet. The tight shoe pained her, but her heart
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Speaker 1: pained her still more. She lifted her graceful round arm,
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Speaker 1: and her satin dress rustled. Before her stood a glass
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Speaker 1: bowl containing four goldfish. She stirred the bowl carefully with
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Speaker 1: a slender, lacquered stick, very slowly, for she too was
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Speaker 1: lost in thought. Was she thinking, perchance, how the fishes
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Speaker 1: were richly clothed in gold, how they lived calmly and
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Speaker 1: peacefully in their crystal world, How they were regularly fed,
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Speaker 1: And yet how much happier they might be if they
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Speaker 1: were free. Yes, that she could well understand the beautiful Pooh.
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Speaker 1: Her thoughts wandered away from her home, wandered to the temple,
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Speaker 1: but not for the sake of holy things. Poor Pooh,
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Speaker 1: poor Sui Hong. Their earthly thoughts met, but my cold
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Speaker 1: beam lay between the two like the sword of the cherub.
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Speaker 1: Twenty seventh evening. The air was calm, said the moon.
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Speaker 1: The water was transparent as the purest ether through which
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Speaker 1: I was gliding, And deep below the surface I could
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Speaker 1: see the strange plants that stretched up their long arms,
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Speaker 1: towards me. Like the gigantic trees of the forest. The
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Speaker 1: fishes swam to and fro above their tops. High in
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Speaker 1: the air, a flight of wild swans were winging their way,
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Speaker 1: one of which sank lower and lower with wearied pinions,
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Speaker 1: his eyes following the airy caravan that melted further and
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Speaker 1: further into the distance. With outspread wings, he sank slowly
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Speaker 1: as a soap bubble sinks in the still air, till
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Speaker 1: he touched the water at length. His head lay back
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Speaker 1: between his wings, and silently he lay there, like a
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Speaker 1: white lotus flower upon a quiet lake, and a gentle
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Speaker 1: wind rose and crisped of quiet surface, which gleamed like
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Speaker 1: the clouds that poured along in great broad waves. And
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Speaker 1: the swan raised his head, and the glowing water splashed
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Speaker 1: like blue fire over his breast and back the morning
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Speaker 1: door illuminated the red clouds. The swan rose strengthened and
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Speaker 1: flew toward the rising sun, toward the bluish coast, whither
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Speaker 1: the caravan had gone. But he flew alone, with a
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Speaker 1: longing in his breast. Lonely, he flew over the blue,
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Speaker 1: swelling billows. Twenty eighth evening, I will give you another
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Speaker 1: picture of Sweden, said, the moon among dark pine woods,
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Speaker 1: near the melancholy banks of the stockson lies the old
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Speaker 1: convent church of Reta. My rays glided through the grating
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Speaker 1: into the roomy vaults where kings sleep tranquility in great
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Speaker 1: stone coffins. On the wall above the grave of each
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Speaker 1: is placed the emblem of earthly grandeur, a kingly crown.
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Speaker 1: But it is made only of wood, painted and gilt,
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Speaker 1: and is hung on a wooden peg driven into the wall.
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Speaker 1: The worms have gnawed the gilded wood. The spider has
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Speaker 1: spun her web from the crown down to the sand
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Speaker 1: like a morning banner. Frail and transient as the grief
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Speaker 1: of mortals, how quietly they sleep, I can remember them
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Speaker 1: quite plainly. I still see the bold smile on their
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Speaker 1: lips that so strongly and plainly express to joy or grief.
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Speaker 1: When the steamboat winds along like a magic snail over
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Speaker 1: the lakes, a stranger often comes to the church and
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Speaker 1: visits the burial vault. He asks the names of the kings,
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Speaker 1: and they have a dead and forgotten sound. He glances
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Speaker 1: with a smile at the worm eaten crowns, and if
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Speaker 1: he happens to be a pious, thoughtful man. Something of
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Speaker 1: melancholy mingles with the smile. Slumber on ye dead ones.
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Speaker 1: The moon thinks of you. The moon at night sends
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Speaker 1: down his rays into your silent kingdom, over which hangs
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Speaker 1: the crown of Pinewood twenty nine evening close by the
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Speaker 1: high road said the moon is an inn, and opposite
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Speaker 1: to it is a great wagon shed whose straw roof
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Speaker 1: was just being re thatched. I looked down between the
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Speaker 1: bare rafters and threw the open loft into the comfortless
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Speaker 1: space below. The turkey cock slept on the beam, and
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Speaker 1: the saddle rested in the empty crib. In the middle
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Speaker 1: of the shed stood a traveling carriage. The proprietor was inside,
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Speaker 1: fast asleep, while the horses were being watered. The coachman
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Speaker 1: stretched himself, though I am very sure that he had
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Speaker 1: been most comfortably asleep half the last stage. The door
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Speaker 1: of the servants room stood open, and the bed looked
22:42
Speaker 1: as if it had been turned over and over. The
22:45
Speaker 1: candle stood on the floor and had burned deep down
22:48
Speaker 1: into the socket. The wind blew cold through the shed.
22:52
Speaker 1: It was nearer to the dawn than to midnight. In
22:56
Speaker 1: the wooden frame on the ground slept a wondering family
22:59
Speaker 1: of musicians. The father and mother seemed to be dreaming
23:02
Speaker 1: of the burning liquor that remained in the bottle. The
23:06
Speaker 1: little pale daughter was dreaming too, for her eyes were
23:09
Speaker 1: wet with tears. The harp stood at their heads, and
23:12
Speaker 1: the dog lay stretched at their feet. Thirtieth evening. It
23:19
Speaker 1: was in a little provincial town. The moon said, it
23:22
Speaker 1: certainly happened last year, but that has nothing to do
23:26
Speaker 1: with the matter. I saw it quite plainly to day.
23:30
Speaker 1: I read about it in the papers, but there it
23:33
Speaker 1: was not half so clearly expressed. In the tap room
23:37
Speaker 1: of the little inn sat the bare leader eating his supper.
23:41
Speaker 1: The bear was tied up outside behind the woodpile. Poor Bruin,
23:47
Speaker 1: who did nobody any harm, though he looked grim enough.
23:51
Speaker 1: Up in the garret, three little children were playing by
23:54
Speaker 1: the light of my beams. The eldest was perhaps six
23:57
Speaker 1: years old, the youngest certainly no more than two. Tramp tramp.
24:03
Speaker 1: Somebody was coming upstairs. Who might it be? The door
24:08
Speaker 1: was thrust open. It was Bruin, the great shaggy Bruin.
24:13
Speaker 1: He had got tired of waiting down in the courtyard
24:16
Speaker 1: and had found his way to the stairs. I saw
24:19
Speaker 1: it all, said the moon. The children were very much
24:22
Speaker 1: frightened at first at the great shaggy animal. Each of
24:26
Speaker 1: them crept into a corner. But he found them all
24:29
Speaker 1: out and smelt at them, but did them no harm.
24:33
Speaker 1: This must be a great dog, they said, and began
24:36
Speaker 1: to stroke him. He lay down upon the ground. The
24:39
Speaker 1: youngest boy clambered on his back, and bending down, a
24:42
Speaker 1: little head of golden curls played at hiding in the
24:45
Speaker 1: beast's shaggy skin. Presently, the eldest boy took his drum
24:50
Speaker 1: and beat upon it till it rattled again. The bear
24:53
Speaker 1: rose upon his hind legs and began to dance. It
24:56
Speaker 1: was a charming sight to behold. Each boy now took
25:00
Speaker 1: his gun, and the bear was obliged to have one too,
25:04
Speaker 1: and he held it up quite properly. Here was a
25:07
Speaker 1: capital playmate, they had found, and they began marching one two,
25:12
Speaker 1: one two. Suddenly some one came to the door, which opened,
25:17
Speaker 1: and the mother of the children appeared. You should have
25:21
Speaker 1: seen her in her dumb terror, with her face as
25:24
Speaker 1: white as chalk, her mouth half open, and her eyes
25:28
Speaker 1: fixed in a horrified stare. But the youngest boy nodded
25:32
Speaker 1: to her in great glee and called out, in his
25:34
Speaker 1: infantile prattle, we're playing at soldiers. And then the bear
25:39
Speaker 1: leader came running up thirty first evening, the wind blew
25:46
Speaker 1: stormy and cold. The clouds flew hurriedly past. Only for
25:51
Speaker 1: a moment now, and then did the moon become visible.
25:56
Speaker 1: He said, I looked down from the silent sky upon
25:59
Speaker 1: the driving clouds, and saw the great shadows chasing each
26:03
Speaker 1: other across the earth. I looked upon a prison. The
26:08
Speaker 1: closed carriage stood before it. A prisoner was to be
26:11
Speaker 1: carried away. My rays pierced through the grated window toward
26:15
Speaker 1: the wall. The prisoner was scratching a few lines upon
26:19
Speaker 1: it as a parting token, But he did not write words,
26:24
Speaker 1: but a melody, the outpouring of his heart. The door
26:28
Speaker 1: was opened, and he was led forth and fixed his
26:31
Speaker 1: eyes upon my round disc. Clouds passed between us, as
26:35
Speaker 1: if he were not to see his face nor i his.
26:39
Speaker 1: He stepped into the carriage. The door was closed, the
26:43
Speaker 1: whip cracked, and the horses galloped off into the thick forest,
26:46
Speaker 1: whither my rays were not able to follow him. But
26:49
Speaker 1: as I glanced through the grated window. My rays glided
26:53
Speaker 1: over the notes his last farewell engraved on the prison
26:56
Speaker 1: wall where words fell can often speak. My rays could
27:03
Speaker 1: only light up isolated notes. So the greater part of
27:06
Speaker 1: what was written there will ever remain dark to me?
27:10
Speaker 1: Was it the death hymn? He wrote there? With these
27:14
Speaker 1: the glad notes of joy? Did he drive away to
27:19
Speaker 1: meet death? Or hasten to the embrace of his beloved?
27:23
Speaker 1: The rays of the moon do not read all that
27:26
Speaker 1: is written by mortals. Thirty second evening. I love the children,
27:32
Speaker 1: said the moon, especially the quite little ones. They are
27:36
Speaker 1: so droll. Sometimes I peep into the room between the
27:41
Speaker 1: curtains and the window frame when they are not thinking
27:44
Speaker 1: of me. It gives me pleasure to see them dressing
27:47
Speaker 1: and undressing. First the little round naked shoulder comes screeping
27:51
Speaker 1: out of the frock, then the arm or I see
27:55
Speaker 1: how the stocking is drawn off, and a plump, little
27:57
Speaker 1: white leg makes its appearance, and a white foot that
28:00
Speaker 1: is fit to be kissed, and I kiss it too.
28:04
Speaker 1: But about what I was going to tell you this evening,
28:07
Speaker 1: I looked through a window before which no curtain was drawn,
28:11
Speaker 1: for nobody lives opposite. I saw a whole troop of
28:15
Speaker 1: little ones, all of one family, and among them was
28:19
Speaker 1: a little sister. She is only four years old, but
28:23
Speaker 1: can say her prayers as well as any of the rest.
28:27
Speaker 1: The mother sits by her bed every evening and hears
28:30
Speaker 1: her say her prayers, and then she has a kiss,
28:33
Speaker 1: and the mother sits by the bed till the little
28:36
Speaker 1: one has gone to sleep, which generally happens as soon
28:39
Speaker 1: as ever she can close her eyes. This evening, the
28:43
Speaker 1: two elder children were a little boisterous. One of them
28:47
Speaker 1: hopped about on one leg in his long white nightgown,
28:50
Speaker 1: and the other stood on a chair surrounded by the
28:52
Speaker 1: clothes of all the children, and declared he was acting
28:56
Speaker 1: Grecian statues. The third and forth laid the clean linen
29:01
Speaker 1: carefully in the box, for that is a thing that
29:04
Speaker 1: has to be done. And the mother sat by the
29:06
Speaker 1: bed of the youngest and announced to all the family
29:09
Speaker 1: that they were to be quiet, for little sister was
29:12
Speaker 1: going to say her prayers. I looked in over the
29:15
Speaker 1: lamp and into the little maiden's bed, where she lay
29:18
Speaker 1: under the neat white coverlet her hands folded demurely, and
29:23
Speaker 1: her little face quite grave and serious. She was praying
29:27
Speaker 1: the Lord's prayer aloud, but her mother interrupted her in
29:31
Speaker 1: the middle of her prayer. How is it? She asked, that,
29:35
Speaker 1: when you have prayed for daily bread, you always add
29:38
Speaker 1: something I cannot understand. You must tell me what it is.
29:43
Speaker 1: The little one lay silent and looked at her mother
29:46
Speaker 1: in embarrassment. What is it you say after our daily bread,
29:52
Speaker 1: dear mother? Don't be angry. I only said, and plenty
29:57
Speaker 1: of butter on it, And of what the moon saw?
30:03
Speaker 1: Part three