in accord with the impressions of the puppets.
We remain watching these human puppets for some time, surrounded by a dense crowd craning their necks, and on tip-toe as each new shadow appears upon the scene. Some of the antics of these shadow-like forms are so monstrous that I begin to think that Mousmé is getting really frightened, and so I propose moving on to where some clever tumblers, contortionists and conjurers are to be seen.
“No,” says Mousmé, “let us go home.”
Then, seeing I do not quite understand her desire, she explains with charming naïveté that she is afraid of bad dreams.
How queer, little Mousmé! and how childlike, to be sure!
Mousmé’s words have made me notice that the crowd is lessening in density, and the lanterns are going out. Or is it they are paling before the coming dawn?
