“I am not quite sure,” said the rocket. “It does not sound very probable.”
“But it’s true, for all that,” said the mist. “Now listen. The wind carried us for some time through the sky. Then, suddenly, he grew tired of us and let us go. And we fell down upon the earth in pouring rain. The flowers lost no time in closing their petals and the birds took shelter, all except the ducks and geese, who were the better pleased the wetter it was. Oh; and the farmer, too: he stood there rejoicing, because his crops needed rain. He did not care how wet he got. But, otherwise, we really caused a great disturbance.”
“Ah, so you’re the rain too, are you?” asked the night-scented rocket. “I say, you seem to have plenty to do.”
“Yes, I never have any rest,” said the mist.
“All the same, I haven’t yet heard how you became mist,” said the rocket. “Now don’t fly into a passion again: you promised to tell me and I would rather hear the whole story over again than once more shiver in your horrid damp arms.”
The mist lay and wept for a moment and then continued:
“When I had fallen on the ground as rain, I sank through the black earth and was glad to think I was returning to my native place, the deep subterranean source. There at least I had known peace and been free from cares. But, just as I was sinking, the roots of the trees sucked me up again and, all day long, I had to wander around in the branches and leaves. They used me as a beast of burden, you see. I had to drag up from the roots all the food that the leaves and flowers needed. I was not free until the evening. When the sun had gone down, all the trees and flowers heaved deep sighs and in their sighs my brothers and I were sent forth as a light, gleaming mist. At night, we dance over the fields. But, in the morning, when the sun rises, we turn into beautiful, clear dew-drops and come and hang on your petals. Then you shake us off and we sink deeper and deeper until we come to the source where we were born, unless some root or other snatches us up on the way. And so it goes on: through the brook, into the lake, up in the sky and back again to earth....”
“Stop!” cried the night-scented rocket. “It makes my head swim to listen to you!”
3
Now the frog began to stir. He stretched his legs and went down to the ditch to take his morning bath. The birds began to chirp in the wood and the stag belled among the trees.