The frog was croaking¹ his "good-night," which lasted so long that there seemed no end to it. The bee was creeping into its hive, and little children were crying because they had to go to bed. The flower was closing up its petals² and bowing its head; the bird was tucking its bill under its wing; and the stag was laying himself down to rest in the tall, soft grass in the glade³ of the wood.

 

From the village church the bells were ringing for sunset, and when that was over the old clerk went home. On his way he had a little chat or two with the people who were out for an evening stroll, or were standing⁴ before their gate and smoking a pipe till they bade him good-night and shut the door.

 

Then it grew quite quiet, and the darkness fell. There was a light in the parson's house, and there was one also in the doctor's. But the farmers' houses were dark, because in summer-time the farmers get up so early that they must go early to bed.

 

And then the stars began to twinkle, and the moon crept higher and higher up the sky. Down in the village a dog was barking. But it must have been barking in a dream, for there was nothing to bark at.

 

  

"Is there anybody there?" asked the mist.

 

But nobody answered, for nobody was there. So the mist issued forth⁵ in her bright, airy robes. She went dancing over the meadows, up and down, to and fro. Then she lay quite still for a moment, and then she took to dancing again. Out over the lake she skipped and deep into the wood, where she threw her long, damp arms round the trunks of the trees.

 

"Who are you, my friend?" asked the night-violet,[A] who stood there giving forth fragrance⁶ just to please herself.

 

[A] An inconspicuous flower which in Denmark is very fragrant

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