Thirtieth Evening

“Close by the highway,” said the Moon, “stands an inn, and opposite it is a large wagon shed, the roof of which was being thatched. I looked down between the rafters and through the open loft shutters into the dismal shed. The turkey cock was asleep on a beam, and a saddle lay in the empty manger.

“In the middle of the shed stood a traveling coach, in which the travelers were napping in easy security, while the horses were being watered and the coachman was stretching his legs; I well know that he had spent more than half the journey sleeping comfortable. The door to the servant’s room was open; the bed was all topsy-turvy, and on the floor stood a candle which had burned deep down into the socket of the candlestick. The wind blew coldly through the shed. The time was closer to dawn than to midnight. In one of the side stalls slept a family of poor wandering musicians. The father and mother wee probably dreaming of the burning drops left in their bottle, while the pale little girl was dreaming of the burning tears in her eyes. At their head lay their harp, and at their feet their dog.”



Original Danish title: “Tredivte Aften” translated by Jean Hersholt.