the beautiful suit

by H .G .Wells

there_was once a little man whose mother made him a beautiful suit of clothes . it_was green and gold, and woven so_that I_cannot describe how delicate and fine it_was, and there_was a tie of orange fluffiness that tied up under his chin . and_the buttons in their newness shone like stars . he_was proud and pleased by his suit beyond measure, and stood before_the long looking- glass when first he put it on, so astonished and delighted with it that he_could hardly turn himself away . he_wanted to wear it everywhere, and show it to all sorts of people . he thought over all the places he had ever visited, and all the scenes he had ever heard described, and tried to imagine what the feel of it would_be if he were to_go now to_those scenes and places wearing his shining suit, and he_wanted to_go out forthwith into_the long grass and_the hot sunshine of_the meadow wearing it . just to wear it ! but his mother told him " no ." she told him he_must take great care of_his suit, for never would he have another nearly so fine; he_must save it and save it, and only wear it on rare and great occasions . it_was his wedding- suit, she said . and she took the buttons and twisted them up with tissue paper for fear their bright newness should_be tarnished, and she tacked little guards over the cuffs and elbows, and wherever the suit was most likely to_come to harm . he hated and resisted these things, but what could he do ? and at last her warnings and persuasions had effect, and he consented to_take off his beautiful suit and fold it into its proper creases, and put it away . it_was almost as_though he_gave it up again . but he_was always thinking of wearing it, and of_the supreme occasions when some day it might_be worn without the guards, without the tissue paper on_the buttons, utterly and delightfully, never caring, beautiful beyond measure .

one night, when he_was dreaming of it after his habit, he dreamt he_took the tissue paper from one_of_the buttons, and found its brightness a little faded, and_that distressed him mightily in_his dream . he polished the poor faded button and polished it, and, if anything, it grew duller . he woke up and lay awake, thinking of_the brightness a little dulled, and wondering how he_would feel if perhaps when_the great occasion ( whatever it might_be) should arrive, one button should chance to_be ever so little short of_its first glittering freshness, and for days and days that thought remained with_him distressingly . and when next his mother let him wear his suit, he_was tempted and nearly gave way to_the temptation just to fumble off one little bit of tissue paper and_see if indeed the buttons were keeping as bright as ever .

he went trimly along on_his way to church, full of_this wild desire . for you_must know his mother did, with repeated and careful warnings, let him wear his suit at times, on Sundays, for example, to and fro from church, when there_was no threatening of rain, no dust blowing, nor anything to injure it, with its buttons covered and its protections tacked upon it, and a sun- shade in_his hand to shadow it if there seemed too strong a sunlight for its colours . and always, after such occasions, he brushed it over and folded it exquisitely as she had taught him, and put it away again .

now all these restrictions his mother set to_the wearing of_his suit he obeyed, always he obeyed them, until one strange night he woke up and saw the moonlight shining outside his window . it seemed to him the moonlight was not common moonlight, nor the night a common night, and for awhile he lay quite drowsily, with_this odd persuasion in_his mind . thought joined on to thought like things that whisper warmly in_the shadows . then he sat up in_his little bed suddenly very alert, with_his heart beating very fast, and a quiver in_his body from top to toe . he had made up his mind . he_knew that now he_was going to wear his suit as it should_be worn . he had no_doubt in_the matter . he_was afraid, terribly afraid, but glad, glad .

he got out of_his bed and stood for a moment by_the window looking at_the moonshine- flooded garden, and trembling at_the thing he meant to_do . the air was full of a minute clamour of crickets and murmurings, of_the infinitesimal shoutings of little living things . he went very gently across the creaking boards, for fear that he might wake the sleeping house, to_the big dark clothes- press wherein his beautiful suit lay folded, and he_took it out garment by garment, and softly and very eagerly tore off its tissue- paper covering and its tacked protections until there it_was, perfect and delightful as he had seen it when first his mother had given it to him--a long_time it seemed ago . not a button had tarnished, not a thread had faded on_this dear suit of_his; he_was glad enough for weeping as in a noiseless hurry he put it on . and then back he went, soft and quick, to_the window that looked out upon_the garden, and stood there for a minute, shining in_the moonlight, with_his buttons twinkling like stars, before he got out on_the sill, and, making as little of arustling as he_could, clambered down to_the garden path below . he stood before his mother's house, and it_was white and nearly as plain as by day, with every window- blind but his own shut like an eye that sleeps . the trees cast still shadows like intricate black lace upon_the wall .

the garden in_the moonlight was very different from_the garden by day; moonshine was tangled in_the hedges and stretched in phantom cobwebs from spray to spray . every flower was gleaming white or crimson black, and_the air was a- quiver with_the thridding of small crickets and nightingales singing unseen in_the depths of_the trees .

there_was no darkness in_the_world, but only warm, mysterious shadows, and all the leaves and spikes were edged and lined with iridescent jewels of dew . the night was warmer than any night had ever been, the heavens by some miracle at once vaster and nearer, and, spite of_the great ivory- tinted moon that ruled the world, the sky was full of stars .

the little man did_not shout nor sing for all his infinite gladness . he stood for a time like one awestricken, and then, with a queer small cry and holding out his arms, he ran out as_if he_would embrace at once the whole round immensity of_the world . he_did_not follow the neat set paths that cut the garden squarely, but thrust across the beds and through_the wet, tall, scented herbs, through_the night- stock and_the nicotine and_the clusters of phantom white mallow flowers and through_the thickets of southernwood and lavender, and knee- deep across a wide space of mignonette . he_came to_the great hedge, and he thrust his way through it; and though the thorns of_the brambles scored him deeply and tore threads from_his wonderful suit, and though burrs and goose- grass and havers caught and clung to him, he_did_not care . he_did_not care, for he_knew it_was all part of_the wearing for_which he had longed ." I_am_glad I put on my suit," he_said; " I_am_glad I wore my suit ."

beyond the hedge he_came to_the duck- pond, or at_least to what_was the duck- pond by day . but by night it_was a great bowl of silver moonshine all noisy with singing frogs, of wonderful silver moonshine twisted and clotted with strange patternings, and_the little man ran down into its waters between_the thin black rushes, knee- deep and waist- deep and to_his shoulders, smiting the water to black and shining wavelets with either hand, swaying and shivering wavelets, amidst which the stars were netted in_the tangled reflections of_the brooding trees upon_the bank . he waded until he swam, and so he crossed the pond and came out upon_the other side, trailing, as it seemed to him, not duckweed, but very silver in long, clinging, dripping masses . and up he went through_the transfigured tangles of_the willow- herb and_the uncut seeding grasses of_the farther bank . he_came glad and breathless into_the high- road ." I_am_glad," he_said, " beyond measure, that I had clothes that fitted this occasion ."

the high- road ran straight as an arrow flies, straight into_the deep- blue pit of sky beneath the moon, a white and shining road between_the singing nightingales, and along it he went, running now and leaping, and now walking and rejoicing, in_the clothes his mother had made for him with tireless, loving hands . the road was deep in dust, but that for him was only soft whiteness; and as he went a great dim moth came fluttering round his wet and shimmering and hastening figure . at first he_did_not heed the moth, and then he waved his hands at it, and made a sort of dance with it as it circled round his head ." soft moth ! " he cried, " dear moth ! and wonderful night, wonderful night of_the world ! do_you_think my clothes are beautiful, dear moth ? as beautiful as_your scales and all this silver vesture of_the earth and sky ? "

and_the moth circled closer and closer until at last its velvet wings just brushed his lips .. .

* * * * *

and next morning they found him dead, with_his neck broken, in_the bottom of_the stone pit, with_his beautiful clothes a little bloody, and foul and stained with_the duckweed from_the pond . but his face was a face of_such happiness that, had you seen it, you_would_have understood indeed how that he had died happy, never knowing that cool and streaming silver for_the duckweed in_the pond .