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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 lingered longest about the Nile group with the colossal god。 Leaning against the Sphinx； he lies there thoughtful and meditative； as if he were thinking on the rolling
centuries； and little love…gods sport with him and with the
crocodiles。 In the horn of plenty sat with folded arms a little tiny
love…god； contemplating the great solemn river…god； a true picture
of the boy at the spinning wheel… the features were exactly the
same。 Charming and life…like stood the little marble form； and yet the
wheel of the year has turned more than a thousand times since the time when it sprang forth from the stone。 Just as often as the boy in the little room turned the spinning wheel had the great wheel murmured； before the age could again call forth marble gods equal to those he afterwards formed。
〃Years have passed since all this happened；〃 the Moon went on to
say。 〃Yesterday I looked upon a bay on the eastern coast of Denmark。
Glorious woods are there； and high trees； an old knightly castle
with red walls； swans floating in the ponds； and in the background
appears； among orchards； a little town with a church。 Many boats；
the crews all furnished with torches； glided over the silent
expanse… but these fires had not been kindled for catching fish； for
everything had a festive look。 Music sounded； a song was sung； and
in one of the boats the man stood erect to whom homage was paid by the rest； a tall sturdy man； wrapped in a cloak。 He had blue eyes and long white hair。 I knew him； and thought of the Vatican； and of the group of the Nile； and the old marble gods。 I thought of the simple little room where little Bertel sat in his night…shirt by the spinning wheel。
The wheel of time has turned； and new gods have come forth from the stone。 From the boats there arose a shout： 'Hurrah； hurrah for
Bertel Thorwaldsen！'〃
TWENTY…FOURTH EVENING
〃I will now give you a picture from Frankfort；〃 said the Moon。
〃I especially noticed one building there。 It was not the house in
which Goethe was