by Howard Pyle
Then the great moon rose full and round and yellow, and looked in at the tall windows, and shone in David’s face — for when there is no moon at all on the brown earth, then it is full moon in the moon-garden.
VIII. Phyllis
THERE WAS ONE little child that David liked better than all the other children; her name was Phyllis, and she was a princess — for she wore a golden coronet. Here eyes were as blue as the sky, and her hair was as yellow as gold, and her lips were as red as corals, and her teeth were as white as pearls, and her laugh was like the tinkle of water, and she had the sweetest, shyest, prettiest little ways that ever any little maiden had. David used to stand and look at her, and look at her. It was almost as though he were afraid of her, but it really was not that. Phyllis knew very well when David was looking at her, for she would look slyly back at him out of the corner of her eyes, and then, maybe, she would burst out laughing like a peal of silver bells, and perhaps run away. She used to sit beside David at table, and he would always choose her out of the ring when they were playing “There were three Knights a-riding.” And when they would sing — for they used to sing together every morning — he always stood beside her, and it seemed to him that their voices matched so perfectly together, that it made his ears ring as though a glass bell had been struck. Then she would look at him, and he would look at her, and the beautiful lady would look at them both, and if she did not smile, she did something more than smile, for her face shone just as the Moon-Angel’s face shone when he looked at the bright star that beamed red and blue — as though a bright light were behind the face, and turned to a translucent rosy red. If you want to see how it looked, just hold your hand up before a strong light, and see how the rosy brightness shines through your fingers.
One day David and Phyllis were walking together down the garden path. There were rose bushes all around, and the bright warm air was full of the smell of flowers, and the trees over their heads were full of pink and white blossoms. Beside the blossoms, there were many fruit, purple plums, rosy apples, pears as yellow as pure gold. David and Phyllis were walking hand in hand, and they were very quiet. The other children were playing over on the lawn beyond the rose bushes, and they two could hear them shouting and laughing. Over across the trees they could see the tall, steep roof of the red brick house. Above that, again, was the tall tower, and the round clock face, and the brass weather-cock, that shone like a spark of yellow fire as the breeze blew it this way and that.
“I shall have to go back again pretty soon,” said David.
“Go where?” said Phyllis.
“Back into the moon,” said David.
“I thought you had come to live with us all the time,” said Phyllis.
“No; I am not,” said David. “I am only out for a holiday until the Moon-Angel sends for me to come back again.”
“And does the Moon-Angel live in the moon-house?” asked Phyllis.
“No; but he comes there for three days in every month,” said David.
“What does he come for?”
“He comes to look at the star that shines red and blue.”
““What does he look at the star for?”
David stopped to think — and he could not tell. When he had not tried to think about it, it seemed to him that he knew why the Moon-Angel looked at the star, but when he tried to think he knew nothing.
Yes; that is the way with all of us — when we try to think about it, then we cannot tell; when we do not try to think about it, then we know all about it. “I don’t know why he looks at the star,” said David. “Only he says that he is making old things new again.”
“What kind of old things does he make new again?” asked Phyllis.
“That I do not know,” said David.
“But why do you have to go back into the moon again?” said Phyllis.
“Because the Man-in-the-moon will gather in the stars again, and then I’ll have to polish them with lamb’s-wool,” said David.
“And were they always polished that way?”
“Yes.”
“But who was it polished them before yon went into the moon?” said Phyllis.
Again David stopped to think, and then he couldn’t tell that either. It seemed to him that he did know until he thought about it, and then he knew nothing. “I don’t know,” said he, and then— “Will you be sorry when I have gone back into the moon?”
“Yes; I will,” said Phyllis.
“When I grow up,” said David, “and when you grow up, then we will be married.”
Phyllis turned her face, and looked at David, and he looked at her. As he did so, he felt a strange and wonderful thrill at his heart, such as he never felt before. It was so keen that it hurt him, and so sweet that it made his breast ache. He did not know what it was.
“Yes,” she whispered, “we shall be married.” Then suddenly she snatched her hand away from his and ran away, laughing like a peal of silver bells. The next moment she was gone around the bushes and was with the other children again.
David stood for a while and wondered why his heart fluttered so. Then he followed after her, and he felt very sheepish and ashamed. When he came back to the other children she would not look at him or pay any attention to him. David felt hurt that she should act so. He did not know that she acted in that way because she was a little girl. That is the way little girls always act — and big girls too. Why they do so, nobody but the Moon-Angel knows.
Tinkle-tinkle-tinkle! It was that same afternoon, and David heard the bell ringing. He was playing with all his might and main, but he stopped and stood still, for he knew that the bell was ringing for him. Sure enough, there was the moon-house, and there was the open door and the back stairs, and there stood the Man-in-the-moon in the door-way, ringing the bell, just as a teacher rings the bell when play-time is over.
“Must I really go?” said David to the beautiful lady.
“Yes; you must go,” said the beautiful lady.
David ran to her and flung his arms around her; she stooped over and kissed him. “Hurry,” said she, “or it will be too late.”
“Good by! Good by!” cried David, as he ran away toward the moon-house.
“Good by! Good by!” called the children after him. “Come hack soon, again.”
“I will if I can,” called David over his shoulder.
The Man-in-the-moon reached out his hand. David took it, and stepped up into the door. Click-clack! and then he was inside of the moon, once more.
He went up stairs to the second story. The Moon-Angel had gone. One of the windows was open, and there was a tiny thread of white light shining on the side of the moon-house.
By and by the folk down in the world would look up and say, “Yonder is the new moon.”
IX. The Last Play-day
DAY AFTER DAY the moon grew brighter and brighter, and at last it was full again. Every day David looked out of one of the second story windows, and every day he saw something new.
One day, what should he see but the moon-path itself stretching across the water far away into the distance. At the end of it were dark rocks against the sky. David knew very well what place it was now. It was the place whence he had started upon his journey for the moon. There was the flat rock with the waves beating up against it. He could even see the roofs of the village; and — yes — who should that be but Hans Krout himself sitting on the rocks. Hans was looking out across the moon-path toward the moon. He saw David almost as soon as David had seen him, and he waved his hand toward him. “How goes it, David?” he called across the water.
“It goes well,” called David in answer.
“Going to take another trip?” said Hans Krout.
“Yes,” said David; “good by!” Then the moon rose up above the edge of the water, and Hans Krout and the rocks and the distant roofs of the village and the moon-path all faded slowly, slowly away. “Good by!” called Hans Krout’s voice, now faint in the distance, across the water. Then all was gone, and nothing was
there except the empty sky and the bright stars, while the moon floated up into the hollow space like a big round bubble. Then David knew that he could go back home again whenever he chose. It made him feel very happy, for, strange as it may sound, no one cares to live in the moon-house forever, wonderful as it all is. Either one wants after a while to get back home again, or else one wants to get out the back door into the moon-garden, or somewhere else.
So once more David lived in the moon-house while it waned and waned, and as it floated in the hollow sky he polished and polished the stars with lamb’s-wool till they shone and sparkled brighter than ever. When the moon was full, the basket was full of stars; as it waned there were fewer and fewer in the basket, until all were gone. Then again the moon-light was gone, and the second-story window-shutters were all shut, and everything was dark.
Once more David sat down in the moon-kitchen with the Man-in-the-moon, watching him mend and stitch, and patch and cobble, and tinker and cook and make the beds, and now and then read the almanac by candle-light. But all the time David was watching the Man-in-the-moon he was also watching the stairway into the second story and the door that opened into it as well; for he knew that the Moon-Angel would come again as he had come before, and he was waiting for him.
Suddenly, one morning, he was there again — the Moon-Angel. David heard the singing and saw the light, and he knew the Moon-Angel was there. This time, without waiting for the Man-in-the-moon to tell him to do so, he ran up-stairs to the second story and opened the door. There was the Moon-Angel gazing at the star. It flickered and blazed and shone now red, now blue, while the two stars in the Moon-Angel’s eyes flickered and blazed and shone now red and now blue as did the star. The Moon-Angel smiled a smile, and he looked at David without ceasing to look at the star.
“What is it, David?” said the Moon-Angel; “do you wish to go back to the moon-garden again?”
“Yes,” said David, “if I can be spared.”
“You shall go,” said the Moon-Angel, “for three days.”
“Down the back stairs?” said David.
“Down the back stairs,” said the Moon-Angel.
David looked around, and there were the back stairs. Who then so happy as he? He scampered away down the back stairs, and this time he knew them so well that he did not have to feel his way. Down he ran and down he ran, and there was the sunlight shining through the cracks of the door. Again he heard the voices of children upon the other side of the door. Click-clack! He lifted the latch, and there he was out in the dazzling sunlight once more.
The voices of the children stopped the moment he stepped out of the moon. “Oh-h-h-h!” cried all the children, “here is David again.” The beautiful lady was sitting on the soft, warm grass, holding in her lap a new little child, who had just come into the moon-garden. He sat with his thumb in his mouth, staring at David with his big, round, blue eyes. Then all the children ran to David and began hugging and kissing him — that is, all of them except Phyllis. She stood a little way off, looking at David with her finger in her mouth. The beautiful lady looked at him too, and smiled until her face shone.
* * * *
Thus it was for five months. During that time David lived in the moon and did his work and looked out of the windows, and for three days in every month he went into the moon-garden and played with the children. And it seemed to him that that was what he lived for, — to play those three days in the moon-garden.
Then one time the beautiful lady took him by the hand and led him into the house. He went with her, wondering. She led him along a passage-way until they came to her own room, which was at the far end of the long house. It was a pretty room, that looked out into the garden through tall clear windows with thin curtains, and everything in it was sky-blue. There was the lady’s desk and her pens and ink and account book. David looked about him, wondering why she had brought him there.
She laid her hand upon David’s shoulder and spoke to him. “This is the last time you can come into the moon-garden, David,” said she.
David looked at her like one struck dumb. At first he did not understand her words; when he did, it seemed to him as though everything was falling away from him. Then he felt his throat begin to choke and choke. Was it then true? Was he never to come back to the beautiful moon-garden again; never to see Phyllis again; never to play with the children again?
“No,” said the beautiful lady, just as if he had spoken, “you are never to come hack into the moon-garden again.”
“Why not?” said David.
“Because,” said she, “before this time next month you will be twelve years old, and no one can live here after he or she is twelve years old.”
“Why not?” said David.
The beautiful lady smiled in answer. “Ah, David,” said she, “many ask that question, but only one can answer it — that one is the Moon-Angel himself. Yes, David, it seems to be sad that we cannot always be happy like little children; but so it is, David. Innocent little children must grow into men and women who are not innocent. Why it should be so only the Moon-Angel can tell. Nevertheless, so it is, and as it is with others down in the brown world, so it must be with you here, David. For the time has now come when you must leave us here, so that you may grow up into a man, and thus be able to do the work for which you were sent.”
“But I would rather live in the moon-garden and he happy,” said David.
Again the lady smiled until her face shone bright as the Moon-Angel’s face shone when he smiled. “Aye,” said she, “so it is with all of us, David. We would all like to be happy, but it cannot be so. You must leave the moon-garden now, and must go away and grow to be a man.” David stood silent, thinking about it. “And am I never to see Phyllis again?” said he at last, almost crying.
“I did not say you were never to see Phyllis again,” said the lady. “That depends upon yourself.” She looked at David in the eyes. “Tell me,” said she, “what did you say to Phyllis one day? Did you not say that you two should be married when you grew up?”
“Yes,” said David, and he blushed fiery red.
“Then if it is to be so, you must do something to win her,” said the lady. “For, listen, David, Phyllis is not as other children. You did not know it, and she does not know it; but she is a Princess, and her father is a great King.”
“A Princess!” cried out David.
“Yes,” said the lady, “a Princess.”
Poor David stood staring at her. “Then she will not think of me when she grows up,” said he. “She will forget me.”
“That remains to he seen,” said the lady. “She will not forget you if you do the work for which you were sent.”
“And what work is that?” said David.
“It is,” said the lady, “to find the Wonder-Box and the Know-All Book, which lies in the Iron Castle of the Iron Man, and to bring it back to the brown earth again. That is what you were really sent here to do.”
“And how am I to do all that?” said David. “How am I to find the Wonder-Box and the Know-All Book and the Iron Castle of the Iron Man? I never heard tell of them before.”
“I will tell you,” said the lady. “First of all you are to go around behind the Moon-Angel.”
“That is not much to do,” said David.
“Is it not?” said the lady; “Ah, David, you do not know what you say. He who can dare to do that, can dare anything.”
“I don’t understand you,” said David.
“Don’t you? But you will after you have tried. Just now you must listen to what I have to say, for the time draws near when you must go. If, when it comes to doing it, you dare to go behind the Moon-Angel to the Moon-ocean, where the great gray cliffs of rocks look down on the sea, and where the old woman with the red petticoat lives, then she will tell you what to do.”
“And who is the old woman with the red petticoat?” said David.
“Ah, David,” said the lady, “even I cannot tell you that. Few have seen her, and fewe
r still have talked with her. But this I know: she can tell you all about the Wonder-Box and the Know-All Book, and what you are to do to find them. For she knows everything, and more beside.”
“Then I will go to her,” said David.
The lady smiled. “Do so,” said she. “But first you will have to go beyond and behind the Moon-Angel.”
“I can easily do that,” said David again. “I am not afraid of the Moon-Angel.” Again the lady smiled, and this time, oh, so strangely, for she knew what it was to go behind the Moon-Angel. David did not know; but she knew, and she looked almost with pity on him as she smoothed the hair back from his forehead. “God bless you, David,” said she. “But hark! there is the bell.”
Tinkle-tinkle-tinkle! Yes; there was the bell, and there was the moon-house, and there was the Man-in-the-moon standing, ringing the bell just as the school teacher rings the bell when playtime is over.
“May I not say good-by to the other children?” said David.
“No,” said the lady; “I will say good-by for you.”
“May I not even say good-by to Phyllis?”
“No; not even to her.”
Tinkle-tinkle-tinkle! sounded the bell again.
“Then I will say good-by to you,” said poor little David, in a choked voice, and he flung his arms around the lady’s neck. She pressed him close, close to her, and kissed him upon the forehead. “Good-by,” said she. Then she put him from her, and he turned and ran away, the big, round moon, the garden and all blurring to the hot tears that brimmed his eyes.
The Man-in-the-moon reached down his hand, and David took it. “A long step,” said the Man-in-the-moon. That is it.” Click-clack! And there was David inside the moon again, with the back door shut upon all that he had left behind.
X. Behind the Moon-Angel
TO GET BEHIND the Moon-Angel. Ah! little child, that is the thing of all things to do. And yet if you could get there, it would only he to see things turned topsyturvy. That is all — to see things turned topsyturvy. And yet everybody in the world is trying, and working, and praying, and longing to get behind the Moon-Angel, or at least to see a glimpse of what is behind him. Few, few, there are who really get behind him; few there are who even so much as see behind him. I have heard people say, “Oh, if I could only just once see ever so little of what is behind the Moon-Angel, then I would be satisfied, for then, maybe, I should see for myself those wonderful things that are there and which many folk talk about and some believe in.” That is what I have heard people say. Maybe they would be satisfied if they saw those things, and maybe they would not, but, whether they would or would not, they do not often see what they want to see — perhaps because they try so hard to see it.