Scarbo

Oh, how many times have I heard and seen
Scarbo, at midnight when the moon shines in the
sky like a silver coin against an azure banner
sprinkled withe golden bees!

How many times have I heard the hum of his
laughter in the shadow of my room, and the
scratching of his fingernail on the silk curtains of
my bed!

How many times have I seen him drop down to
the floor, pirouette on one foot and spin around
the room like a bobbin fallen from a witch's
distaff.

Then did I believe that he had vanished? The
dwarf grew as large as the belltower of a Gothic
cathedral, standing between the moon and me,
with a gloden bell swinging from his pointed
bonnet.

But soon his body become blue, transparent as
candlewax, , his face became pale as the wax of a
candle-end; and suddenly, he disappeared.