Hans Unwirrsch, on the other hand, remained a real child. His imagination still retained its dominion over his reason; the circle in which he stood, like any other human child, now expanded and became filled with ever gayer, brighter, more enticing figures, scenes and dreams. One evening Hans came meditatively out of the darkness of the junkshop, hurried across to his mother's house and there, in answer to Auntie Schlotterbeck's questions, blurted out that Moses was going to learn Latin and go to the "Gymnasium" while he should have to be a cobbler and stay a cobbler all his life. Unfortunately for Hans these words were overheard by Uncle Grünebaum, who happened to be present and whom Hans had not noticed. There followed a dangerous scene. First Auntie Schlotterbeck had to protect Hans so that his indignant relative, as uncle, godfather, guardian, and master of the laudable trade of shoemaking, did not half kill him but merely squeezed him between his knees and talked urgently to him till Hans, yielding to the double pressure, declared himself to be in thorough agreement with his uncle's views. Then Auntie Schlotterbeck changed from defence to attack. She read Uncle Grünebaum a lecture on his own conduct, reminding him that he was not looked up to anywhere but on the bench behind his mug of beer in the "Red Ram," that he neglected his house and trade and was indeed no shining example of what the trade of shoemaking turned out. When she finally threatened to call Frau Christine to her aid the doughty cobbler speedily took a flight. In the evening, however, he appeared as a hero in the "Red Ram," where he conducted himself like a great politician, for which rôle the news, which had just come, of the outbreak of a revolution in Paris, offered him a splendid opportunity. He finally went to bed rather tipsy and fully convinced of his greatness, and slept the sleep of the just, which Hans Unwirrsch did not do, nor his mother, nor Auntie Schlotterbeck either.] CHAPTER VI A lovely, fine night had followed the day; the moon shone above all Europe and its peoples. All the clouds had been driven away and now lay loweringly on the Atlantic Ocean: all who could sleep, slept; but not everyone could sleep. Bridal night and night of death in one! Through the woods the brooks flashed their silver sparks; the great streams flowed on, calm and shining. The woods, meadows and fields, the lakes, rivers and brooks--they were all in full harmony with the moon, but the odd pygmy-folk, men, in their cities and villages, far from being in harmony with themselves, left much to be desired in that respect. If she had not been the "gentle" moon, if she had not had a good reputation to maintain, she would not have lighted mankind, in spite of all the poets and lovers. She was gentle, and shone;--moreover, perhaps, she was touched by the confidence of the municipal authorities, who depended on her, and on her account did not light the street lamps.