Again Moni climbed up the mountain, silent and sad and without singing.
The rain had now ceased, but thick fog hung around on the mountains,
and the sky was still full of dark clouds. Moni again sat under the
rock and battled with his thoughts. About noon the sky began to clear;
it grew brighter and brighter. Moni came out of his cave and looked
around. The goats once more sprang gayly here and there, and the little
kid was quite frolicsome from delight at the returning sun and made the
merriest leaps.

Moni stood on the Pulpit-rock and saw how it was growing brighter and
more beautiful below in the valley and above over the mountains beyond.
Now the clouds scattered and the lovely light blue sky looked down so
cheerfully that it seemed to Moni as if the dear Lord were looking out
of the bright blue at him, and suddenly it became quite clear in his
heart what he ought to do. He could not carry the wrong around with him
any more; he must throw it off. Then Moni seized the little kid, that
was jumping about him, took it in his arms and said tenderly: "Oh,
Maggerli, you poor Maggerli! I have certainly done what I could, but it
is wrong, and that must not be done. Oh, if only you didn't have to die!
I can't bear it!"

And Moni began to cry so hard, that he could no longer speak, and the
kid bleated pitifully and crept far under his arm, as if it wanted to
cling to him and be protected. Then Moni lifted the little goat on his
shoulders, saying:

"Come, Maggerli, I will carry you home once more to-day. Perhaps I can't
carry you much longer."

When the flock came down to the Bath House, Paula was again standing on