"Did he let you?"
Sebastian shook his head, a grim, sweet smile curving the big mouth. "Let me?—Christoph!"
The boy crept nearer to him. "How did you do it?"
"I stole it—carried it up to my room while the others were asleep—and did it by the moon."
"The moon?"
The boy nodded, laughing. "Didst never hear of the moon, brave boy!"
Erdman smiled pettishly. "There isn't a moon—always," he said, after a moment.
"And that also is true," quoth the boy gravely. "But some time, late or early, one gets a glimpse of her—if one lies awake to see," he added softly.
The other glanced again at the book. "Let me look at it," he pleaded.
Sebastian smiled and reached over a hand to the book. "Don't touch. I'll show it thee." He untied the strings and spread it on the ground, throwing himself in front of it and resting his chin in his hands. "Come," he said, "I'll show it thee."