ales until we have told
them here, and then they vanish in the shadow-churchyard, where we bury
only our dead selves. Ah! brethren, who would be a man and remember?
Who would be a man and weep? We ought indeed to love one another, for
we alone inherit oblivion; we alone are renewed with eternal birth; we
alone have no gathered weight of years. I will tell you the awful fate
of one Shadow who rebelled against his nature, and sought to remember
the past. He said, 'I _will_ remember this eve.' He fought with the
genial influences of kindly sleep when the sun rose on the awful dead
day of light; and although he could not keep quite awake, he dreamed of
the foregone eve, and he never forgot his dream. Then he tried again
the next night, and the next, and the next; and he tempted another
Shadow to try it with him. But at last their awful fate overtook them;
for, instead of continuing to be Shadows, they began to cast shadows,
as foolish men say; and so they thickened and thickened till they
vanished out of our world. They are now condemned to walk the earth, a
man and a woman, with death behind them, and memories within them. Ah,
brother Shades! let us love one another, for we shall soon forget. We
are not men, but Shadows."

The king turned away, and pitied the poor Shadows far more than they
pitied men.

"Oh! how we played with a musician one night!" exclaimed a Shadow in
another group, to which the king had first directed a passing thought,
and then had stopped to listen.--"Up and down we went, like the hammers
and dampers on his piano. But he took his revenge on us. For after he
had watched us for half an hour in the twilight, he rose and went to
his instrument, and played a shadow-dance that fixed us all in sound
for ever. Each could tell the very notes meant for him; and as long as
he played, we could not stop, but went on dancing and dancing after the
music, just as the magician--I mean the musician--pleased. And he
punished us well; for he nearly danced us all off our legs and out of
shape into tired heaps of collapsed and palpitating darkness. We won't
go near him for some time again, if we can only remember it. He had
been very miserable all day, he was so poor; and we could not think of
any way of comforting him except making him laugh. We did not succeed,
with our wildest efforts; but it turned out better than we had
expected, after all; for his shadow-dance got him into notice, and he
is quite popular now, and