a24-第6部分

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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　born；　nor　the　old　Council　House；　through　whose　grated　windows　peered　the　horns　of　the　oxen　that　were　roasted　and　given　to　the　people　when　the　emperors　were　crowned。　No；　it　was　a　private　house；　plain　in　appearance；　and　painted　green。　It　stood　near　the　old　Jews'　Street。　It　was　Rothschild's　house。

〃I　looked　through　the　open　door。　The　staircase　was　brilliantly
lighted：　servants　carrying　wax　candles　in　massive　silver
candlesticks　stood　there；　and　bowed　low　before　an　old　woman；　who　was　being　brought　downstairs　in　a　litter。　The　proprietor　of　the　house
stood　bare…headed；　and　respectfully　imprinted　a　kiss　on　the　hand　of
the　old　woman。　She　was　his　mother。　She　nodded　in　a　friendly　manner
to　him　and　to　the　servants；　and　they　carried　her　into　the　dark
narrow　street；　into　a　little　house；　that　was　her　dwelling。　Here　her
children　had　been　born；　from　hence　the　fortune　of　the　family　had
arisen。　If　she　deserted　the　despised　street　and　the　little　house；
fortune　would　also　desert　her　children。　That　was　her　firm　belief。〃

The　Moon　told　me　no　more；　his　visit　this　evening　was　far　too
short。　But　I　thought　of　the　old　woman　in　the　narrow　despised　street。
It　would　have　cost　her　but　a　word；　and　a　brilliant　house　would　have
arisen　for　her　on　the　banks　of　the　Thames…　a　word；　and　a　villa　would
have　been　prepared　in　the　Bay　of　Naples。

〃If　I　deserted　the　lowly　house；　where　the　fortunes　of　my　sons
first　began　to　bloom；　fortune　would　desert　them！〃　It　was　a
superstition；　but　a　superstition　of　such　a　class；　that　he　who　knows
the　story　and　has　seen　this　picture；　need　have　only　two　words　placed
under　the　picture　to　make　him　understand　it；　and　these　two　words
are：　〃A　mother。〃

TWENTY…FIFTH　EVENING
〃It　was　yesterday；　in　the　morning　twilight〃…　these　are　the　words
the　Moon　told　me…　〃in　the　great　city　no　chimney　was　yet　smoking…　and　it　was　just　at　the　chimneys　that　I　was　looking。　Suddenly　a　little　head　emerged　from　one　of　them；　and　then　half　a　body；　the　arms　resting　on　the　rim　of　the　chimney…pot。　'Ya…hip！　ya…hip！'　cried　a　voice。　It　was　the　little　chimney…sweeper；　who　had　for　the　first　time　in　his　life
crept　through　a　chimney；　and　stuck　out　his　head　at　the　top。　'Ya…hip！
ya…hip'　Yes；　certainly　that　was　a　very　different　thing　to　creeping
about　in　the　dark　narrow　chimneys！　the　air　blew　so　fresh；　and　he　could　look　over　the　whole　city　towards　the　green　wood。　The　sun　was　just　rising。　It　shone　round　and　great；　just　in　his　face；　that　beamed　with
triumph；　though　it　was　very　prettily　blacked　with　soot。

〃'The　whole　town　can　see　me　now；'　he　exclaimed；　'and　the　moon
can　see　me　now；　and　the　sun　too。　Ya…hip！　ya…hip！'　And　he　flourished
his　broom　in　triumph。〃

TWENTY…SIXTH　EVENING
〃Last　night　I　looked　down　upon　a　town　in　China；〃　said　the　Moon。
〃My　beams　irradiated　the　naked　walls　that　form　the　streets　there。
Now　and　then；　certainly；　a　door　is　seen；　but　it　is　locked；　for　what
does　the　Chinaman　care　about　the　outer　world？　Close　wooden　shutters　covered　the　windows　behind　the　walls　of　the　houses；　but　through　the　windows　of　the　temple　a　faint　light　glimmered。　I　looked　in；　and　saw　the　quaint　decorations　within。　From　the　floor　to　the　ceiling
pictures　are　painted；　in　the　most　glaring　colours；　and　richly　gilt…
pictures　representing　the　deeds　of　the　gods　here　on　earth。　In　each
niche　statues　are　placed；　but　they　are　almost　entirely　hidden　by　the
coloured　drapery　and　the　banners　that　hang　down。　Before　each　idol　（and　they　are　all　made　of　tin）　stood　a　little　altar　of　holy　water；　with
flowers　and　burning　wax　lights　on　it。　Above　all　the　rest　stood　Fo；　the
chief　deity；　clad　in　a　garment　of　yellow　silk；　for　yellow　is　here
the　sacred　colour。　At　the　foot　of　the　altar　sat　a　living　being；　a
young　priest。　He　appeared　to　be　praying；　but　in　the　midst　of　his
prayer　he　seemed　to　fall　into　deep　thought；　and　this　must　have　been
wrong；　for　his　cheeks　glowed　and　he　held　down　his　head。　Poor
Soui…Hong！　Was　he；　perhaps；　dreaming　of　working　in　the　little　flower
garden　behind　the　high　street　wall？　And　did　that　occupation　seem
more　agreeable　to　hi