  When the two children, after their sleep, awoke to see the moon rise to her station in the sky, they were not surprised to find that her fair, round proportions were already changed. But when Eva turned to Aster, she saw that he, too, was smaller than when they had lain down to rest; and she knew at once, almost as if she had been told, that the Moon-Prince would in future wax and wane as did the orb from which he had been banished; that this was part of his punishment; and now she understood why it was that Aster had said she would have to take care of him. But as she stood, thinking of this, Aster suddenly touched her hand, and directly over the mossy bed on which they had slept, and which had never been crushed by their weight, but was always fresh, Eva saw again the mocking faces which had disturbed her the night before; but only for a moment, and then they were gone. And even as she looked, she saw that the soft green moss began to shrivel, dry up, and crumble away, as though in a fire; and a moment later it was all gone, and in its place was a heap of rough sand and stone, instead of the velvety moss and the vine with its scarlet berries. “The faces have done it,” Eva said, clasping Aster’s hand tightly, as she watched the rapid change. “The faces!” Aster said, scornfully. “Eva, you are dreaming; there were no faces there.” “I saw them,” Eva began; but Aster interrupted her. “I tell you, Eva, you saw no faces, there was nothing there. I told you that the moss would be gone the next time that the moon rose; and you see I told you the truth. We must leave this place.” “Where shall we go?” “I don’t know. We cannot stay here. What did the flower say to you, Eva? When soft moss shall change to stone, From this spot ye must be gone.” Even as Aster spoke, Eva saw a faint little path at her feet, like that which she had first followed. Looking back, wishing it might lead her again to the pleasant little brook, and that she might return to it, instead of going on into the forest, she saw that the sand and stone had grown into a huge wall, or rather a mound, over which she never could have climbed, and which would prevent her return. As if Aster had read her thoughts, he said to her,— “There is no going back, Eva; we can only go forward.” Aster’s words were true. The wall of stone, which a few moments had been enough to build up behind them, seemed to come closer and closer, as though to shut them out from the place where they had been; and, clasping Aster’s hand tightly, Eva and the boy walked slowly on, in the little path which lay before them. For days the two went on, walking while the moon shone, and sleeping when her light was hid. At each moonrise they were awakened by the strains of music, which, as the moon waned, grew sadder and more mournful; while that accompanying her setting became at last a low, sad moaning, and each day she grew smaller, and, in sympathy with her, Aster seemed to dwindle and wane, and he became more and more helpless, till at last, when the moon was reduced to a thin crescent, the little prince was once more as small as he was when Eva first received him. Yet, through all these changes, the two went slowly on through the dark forest, which opened on either side of the path to let them pass, and closed again behind them. Were they thirsty, they were sure to find some tiny spring, issuing as at a wish from the earth; were they hungry, some wild fruit or berry was always to be found. But not once did Eva leave the path. What it was that kept her in it, she could not tell,—except that every time she felt the slightest desire to go into the forest; she saw the same hateful faces which had peeped at her for the first time when the cloud had passed over the face of the full moon, and which had mocked at her from above the soft mossy bed when it had been turned into the stony wall which had forced them to go forward, and she thought they forbade her to go near them. But Aster, in spite of all her efforts to detain him in the path, would sometimes run away from her, saying he saw some beautiful flower which he must gather, or else some sweet child-face which smiled upon him; but each time that he did this, he was sure to hasten back to Eva, saying that either thorns had pierced or else nettles stung him; and then he would hide his face in the folds of Eva’s white dress, trembling, and saying that THEY were there, and had frightened him. Still, Eva could never find out from the boy who THEY were. For Aster, though he sometimes tried, could not tell her; it seemed as if he was not allowed to speak, and the child began to think that the faces which haunted her, and THEY of whom Aster so often spoke, were only different manifestations of the same power, which seemed to follow them wherever they went, seeking an opportunity to hurt them, although as yet no harm had been done. Once, before Aster grew so small, Eva asked him why it was that they were thus followed. “It is not you that THEY are following; THEY would do me harm if I were to fall into their hands; but I am safe while you keep me. You are beyond their reach.” But, though Aster knew this, it seemed to Eva that he dared, and tried, to put himself in the power of THEY, whom he seemed to dread,—for it was only when the faces looked at her from behind tree or shrub that Aster desired to leave her, and only then that he spoke of THEY who always frightened him back to her side. He never alluded to the flower they sought; only once, when Eva asked him what it was like, he said to her: “I cannot describe it to you; you will know it when you see it.” “How shall I know it?” Eva asked. “You will know it when the time comes.” But, though Eva looked carefully for the flower, she never saw it. There were flowers enough along the path, but the right one was not to be seen. She did not know—how could she?—that the search was only begun, and that not till after long wanderings and many troubles to Aster would she be able to find for him the flower which he had lost, and without which he could never regain his home. |
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