On the other hand, she grieved when, for a long time, she did not see old
Casper Eysvogel, whose tall figure she had formerly watched with pleasure
when, at a late hour, he returned from some banquet, his bearing erect,
and his step as firm as if wine could not get the better of him. But
suddenly one warm September noon, when her pale, waxing crescent was
plainly visible in the blue sky by daylight, she beheld him again. He was
less erect than before, but he seemed content with his fate; for, as a
cooler breeze waved the light cobwebs in the little garden, into which he
had been led, his daughter-in-law Els with loving care wrapped his feet
in the rug which she had embroidered for him with the Eysvogel coat of
arms, and he gratefully kissed her brow.