d the moonlight
wrapped me round, thrilling me with delight. The large courtyard lay
deserted with its leafless poplars and spiked railings. Here and there a
grain of sand sparkled. I raised my eyes, and from one constellation to
another I sought the deep blue of heaven in vain; not a shadow upon it,
not one dark wing outlined. Yet all the while the same sad and gentle cry
wandered and was lost in air, the chant of an invisible soul which seemed
in want of me, and had perhaps awakened me.

The thought came upon me that it was the soul of my mother calling to
me--my mother, whose voice was soft and very musical.

"I am caring for thee," said the voice. "I am caring for thee; I can see
thee," it said, "I can see thee. I love thee! I love thee!"

"Reveal thyself!" I called back. "Oh, mother, reveal thyself!" And I
strove feverishly to catch sight of her, following the voice as it swept
around in circles; and seeing nothing, I burst into tears.

Suddenly I was seized roughly by the ear.

"What are you doing here, you young rascal? Are you mad? The wind is
blowing right on to my bed. Five hundred lines!"

The usher, in nightdress and slippers, was rolling his angry eyes on me.

"Yes, sir; certainly, sir! But don't you hear her?"

"Who is it?"

"My mother."

He looked to see whether I were awake; cocked his head to one side and
listened; then shut the window angrily and went off shrugging his
shoulders.

"It's only the plovers flying about the moon," said he. "Five hundred
lines!"

I did my five hundred lines. They taught me that dreaming was illegal and
dangerous, but they neither convinced nor cured me.

I still believe that there are scattered up and down in nature voices
that speak, but which few hear; just as there are millions of flowers
that bloom unseen by man. It is sad for those who catch a hint of it.
Perforce they come back and seek the hidden springs. They waste their
youth and vigor upon empty dreams, and in return for the fleeting
glimpses they have enjoyed, for the perfect phrase half caught and lost
again, will have given up the intercourse of their kind, and even
friendship itself. Yes, it is sad for the schoolboys who open their
windows to gaze at the moon, and never drop the habit! They will find
themselves, all too soon, solitaries in the midst of life, desolate as I
am desolate tonight, beside my dead fire.

No friend will come to knock at my door; not one. I have a few comrades
to whom