wish you would
say you to me instead of thou."

"I beg your pardon," said the learned man; "it is an old habit,
which it is difficult to break. You are quite right; I will try to
think of it. But now tell me everything that you saw."

"Everything," said the shadow; "for I saw and know everything."

"What was the appearance of the inner rooms?" asked the scholar.
"Was it there like a cool grove, or like a holy temple? Were the
chambers like a starry sky seen from the top of a high mountain?"

"It was all that you describe," said the shadow; "but I did not go
quite in--I remained in the twilight of the ante-room--but I was in
a very good position,--I could see and hear all that was going on in
the court of poetry."

"But what did you see? Did the gods of ancient times pass
through the rooms? Did old heroes fight their battles over again? Were
there lovely children at play, who related their dreams?"

"I tell you I have been there, and therefore you may be sure
that I saw everything that was to be seen. If you had gone there,
you would not have remained a human being, whereas I became one; and
at the same moment I became aware of my inner being, my inborn
affinity to the nature of poetry. It is true I did not think much
about it while I was with you, but you will remember that I was always
much larger at sunrise and sunset, and in the moonlight even more
visible than yourself, but I did not then understand my inner
existence. In the ante-room it was revealed to me. I became a man; I
came out in full maturity. But you had left the warm countries. As a
man, I felt ashamed to go about without boots or clothes, and that
exterior finish by which man is known. So I went my own way; I can
tell you, for you will not put it in a book. I hid myself under the
cloak of a cake woman, but she little thought who she concealed. It
was not till evening that I ventured out. I ran about the streets in
the moonlight. I drew myself up to my full height upon the walls,
which tickled my back very pleasantly. I ran here and there, looked
through the highest windows into the rooms, and over the roofs. I
looked in, and saw what nobody else could see, or indeed ought to see;
in fact, it is a bad world, and I would not care to be a man, but that
men are of some importance. I saw the most miserable things going on
between husbands and wives, parents and children,--sweet, incomparable
children. I have seen what no human being has the power of k