"And what will be the use of that?" murmured the girl in her dream.
"Why, you will help her, I suppose,
To reach up to the knocker.
You must not startle her, for that
Most certainly would shock her."
"It was the sea and the castle in the sunlight," said the girl, "and now it is something quite as ridiculous: a little child standing at a door knocking. That comes in the moonlight. And the music is going on all the time."
She was speaking quite loudly now, and she suddenly opened her eyes, in spite of the wood-elves, who crept down from the bed and hid themselves in the folds of the curtains, for they did not want the girl to know that they were there.
"It's the music that has waked me," said the girl, getting up in bed and listening; "it's the same song over and over again, only I can't make out the words, excepting, 'Come, come, come,' and then something about the sea. But that is very absurd, for there is no sea near here. The moon knows that as well as I do, for the moon looks down, and sees that there are only fields and woods and orchards, and beautiful gardens full of flowers. I wish I were not dreaming all the time. The music is a dream too; I thought it was the nightingale: and I dare say it is, and that if I looked out of the window I should see about a dozen nightingales sitting in a row, for it would take a dozen quite to make such loud music as I hear in the moonlight."
And the girl shook back her long hair, and jumped out of bed and went to the window; but she could see nothing, for pressed tightly against the window was a great white lily, just like the one she had thrown down, only instead of being of the ordinary size, it was so large that it covered all the panes of glass and also the open part of the window, so that it was quite impossible to look out. The stalk was towards her.
"I'm like an umbrella white,
Keeping off the sun or rain;
Keeping out the bright moonlight,
Keeping in the wood-elves' train,
said the lily. Then it continued—
"Yes, you threw me down in fright,
But I've come to you to-night.
Take me in your hand, and see
What will then my purpose be."
The girl was silent for a moment; everything was so strange: the beautiful music, the talking brook, and now the talking flower.