“I didn’t say they were winding passages. I said they were long and narrow. They didn’t wind. They went by corners.”
“That’s worth knowing,” remarked Diamond. “For who knows how soon he may have to go there? But the main thing is, what did you come to at last?”
“We came to a small box against the wall of a tiny room. The little man told me to put my ear against it. I did so, and heard a noise something like the purring of a cat, only not so loud, and much sweeter. ‘What is it?’ I asked. ‘Don’t you know the sound?’ returned the little man. ‘No,’ I answered. ‘Don’t you know the sound of bees?’ he said. I had never heard bees, and could not know the sound of them. ‘Those are my lady’s bees,’ he went on. I had heard that bees gather honey from the flowers. ‘But where are the flowers for them?’ I asked. ‘My lady’s bees gather their honey from the sun and the stars,’ said the little man. ‘Do let me see them,’ I said. ‘No. I daren’t do that,’ he answered. ‘I have no business with them. I don’t understand them. Besides, they are so bright that if one were to fly into your eye, it would blind you altogether.’ ‘Then you have seen them?’ ‘Oh, yes! Once or twice, I think. But I don’t quite know: they are so very bright—like buttons of lightning. Now I’ve showed you all I can tonight, and we’ll go back to the room.’ I followed him, and he made me sit down under a lamp that hung from the roof, and gave me some bread and honey.
“The lady had never moved. She sat with her forehead leaning on her hand, gazing out of the little window, hung like the rest with white cloudy curtains. From where I was sitting I looked out of it too, but I could see nothing. Her face was very beautiful, and very white, and very still, and her hand was as white as the forehead that leaned on it. I did not see her whole face—only the side of it, for she never moved to turn it full upon me, or even to look at me.
“How long I sat after I had eaten my bread and honey, I don’t know. The little man was busy about the room, pulling a string here, and a string there, but chiefly the string at the back of the door. I was thinking with some uneasiness that he would soon be wanting me to go out and clean the windows, and I didn’t fancy the job. At last he came up to me with a great armful of dusters. ‘It’s time you set about the windows,’ he said; ‘for there’s rain coming, and if they’re quite clean before, then the rain can’t spoil them.’ I got up at once. ‘You needn’t be afraid,’ he said. ‘You won’t tumble off. Only you must be careful. Always hold on with one hand while you rub with the other.’ As he spoke, he opened the door. I started back in a terrible fright, for there was nothing but blue air to be seen under me, like a great water without a bottom at all. But what must be must, and to live up here was so much nicer than down in the mud with holes in my shoes, that I never thought of not doing as I was told. The little man showed me how and where to lay hold while I put my foot round the edge of the door on to the first round of a ladder. ‘Once you’re up,’ he said, ‘you’ll see how you have to go well enough.’ I did as he told me, and crept out very carefully. Then the little man handed me the bundle of dusters, saying, ‘I always carry them on my reaping hook, but I don’t think you could manage it properly. You shall have it if you like.’ I wouldn’t take it, however, for it looked dangerous.
“I did the best I could with the dusters, and crawled up to the top of the moon. But what a grand sight it was! The stars were all over my head, so bright and so near that I could almost have laid hold of them. The round ball to which I clung went bobbing and floating away through the dark blue above and below and on every side. It was so beautiful that all fear left me, and I set to work diligently. I cleaned window after window. At length I came to a very little one, in at which I peeped. There was the room with the box of bees in it! I laid my ear to the window, and heard the musical hum quite distinctly. A great longing to see them came upon me, and I opened the window and crept in. The little box had a door like a closet. I opened it—the tiniest crack—when out came the light with such a sting that I closed it again in terror—not, however, before three bees had shot out into the room, where they darted about like flashes of lightning. Terribly frightened, I tried to get out of the window again, but I could not: there was no way to the outside of the moon but through the door; and that was in the room where the lady sat. No sooner had I reached the room, than the three bees, which had followed me, flew at once to the lady, and settled upon her hair. Then first I saw her move. She started, put up her hand, and caught them; then rose and, having held them into the flame of the lamp one after the other, turned to me. Her face was not so sad now as
