It was very white and beautiful. In many parts of the world
that night a pallid halo encircled it about. It was perceptibly
larger; in the clear refractive sky of the tropics it seemed as if
it were nearly a quarter the size of the moon. The frost was still
on the ground in England, but the world was as brightly lit as if
it were midsummer moonlight. One could see to read quite ordinary
print by that cold clear light, and in the cities the lamps burnt
yellow and wan.
And everywhere the world was awake that night, and throughout
Christendom a sombre murmur hung in the keen air over the country
side like the belling of bees in the heather, and this murmurous
tumult grew to a clangour in the cities. It was the tolling of the
bells in a million belfry towers and steeples, summoning the people
to sleep no more, to sin no more, but to gather in their churches
and pray. And overhead, growing larger and brighter as the earth
rolled on its way and the night passed, rose the dazzling star.
And the streets and houses were alight in all the cities, the
shipyards glared, and whatever roads led to high country were lit
and crowded all night long. And in all the seas about the
civilised lands, ships with throbbing engines, and ships with
bellying sails, crowded with men and living creatures, were
standing out to ocean and the north.
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