And, in a moment, the Blue Children were crowding round the tall old manAnd, in a moment, the Blue Children were crowding round the tall old man
And, lifting his eyes to the sky, with a look of discouragement, he added:
"You won't live long!"
And the movement went on. Each Child, when denied, returned to his employment with a downcast air. When one of them was accepted, the others looked at him with envy. Now and then, something happened, as when the hero who was to fight against injustice refused to go. He clung to his playfellows, who called out to Time:
"He doesn't want to, Sir!"
"No, I don't want to go," cried the little fellow, with all his might. "I would rather not be born."
"And quite right too!" thought Tyltyl, who was full of common-sense and who knew what things are like on earth.
For people always get beatings which they have not deserved; and, when they have done wrong, you may be sure that the punishment will fall on one of their innocent friends.
"I wouldn't care to be in his place," said our friend to himself. "I would rather hunt for the Blue Bird, any day!"
Meanwhile, the little seeker after justice went away sobbing, frightened out of his life by Mr. Time.
The excitement was now at its height. The Childrenran all over the hall: those who were going packed up their inventions; those who were staying behind had a thousand requests to make:
"Will you write to me?"
"They say one can't!"
"Oh, try, do try!"
"Announce my idea!"
"Good-bye, Jean.... Good-bye, Pierre!"
"Have you forgotten anything?"
"Don't lose your ideas!"
"Try to tell us if it's nice!"
"Enough! Enough!" roared Time, in a huge voice, shaking his big keys and his terrible scythe, "Enough! The anchor's weighed...."
Then the Children climbed into the gold galley, with the beautiful white silk sails. They waved their hands again to the little friends whom they were leaving behind them; but, on seeing the earth in the distance, they cried out, gladly:
"Earth! Earth!... I can see it!..."
"How bright it is!..."
"How big it is!..."
And, at the same time, as though coming from the abyss, a song rose, a distant song of gladness and expectation.
Light, who was listening with a smile, saw the look of astonishment on Tyltyl's face and bent over him:
"It is the song of the mothers coming out to meet them," she said.
At that moment, Time, who had shut the doors, saw our friends and rushed at them angrily, shaking his scythe at them.
"Hurry!" said Light. "Hurry! Take the Blue Bird, Tyltyl, and go in front of me with Mytyl."
She put into the boy's arms a bird which she held hidden under her cloak and, all radiant, spreading her dazzling veil with her two hands, she ran on, protecting her charges from the onslaught of Time.
In this way, they passed through several turquoise and sapphire galleries. It was magnificently beautiful, but they were in the Kingdom of the Future, where Time was the great master, and they must escape from his anger which they had braved.
Mytyl was terribly frightened and Tyltyl kept nervously turning round to Light.
"Don't be afraid," she said. "I am the only person whom Time has respected since the world began. Only mind that you take care of the Blue Bird. He's gorgeous! He is quite, quite blue!"
This thought enraptured the boy. He felt the precious treasure fluttering in his arms; his hands dared not press the pretty creature's soft, warm wings; and his heart beat against its heart. This time, he held the Blue Bird! Nothing could touch it, because it was given to him by Light herself. What a triumph when he returned home!...
He was so bewildered by his happiness that he hardly knew where he was going; his joy rang a victorious peal in his head that made him feel giddy; he was mad with pride; and this, worse luck, made him lose his coolness and his presence of mind! They were just about to cross the threshold of the palace, when a gust of wind swept through the entrance-hall, lifting up Light's veil and at last revealing the two Children to the eyes of Time, who was still pursuing them. With a roar of rage, he darted his scythe at Tyltyl, who cried out. Light warded off the blow; and the door of the palace closed behind them with a thud. They were saved!... But alas, Tyltyl, taken by surprise, had opened his arms and now, through his tears, saw the Bird of the Future soaring above their heads, mingling with the azure sky its dream-wings so blue, so light and so transparent that soon the boy could make out nothing more....
Tyltylhad enjoyed himself thoroughly in the Kingdom of the Future. He had seen many wonderful things and thousands of little playfellows and then, without taking the least pains or trouble, had found the Blue Bird in his arms in the most magical way. He had never pictured anything more beautiful, more blue or brilliant; and he still felt it fluttering against his heart and kept hugging his arms to his breast as though the Blue Bird were there.
Alas, it had vanished like a dream!
He was thinking sadly of this latest disappointment as he walked hand-in-hand with Light. They were back in the Temple and were going to the vaults where the Animals and Things had been shut up. What a sight met their eyes! The wretches had eaten and drunk such a lot that they were lying on the floor quite tipsy! Tylô himself had lost all his dignity. He had rolled under the table and was snoring like a porpoise. His instinct remained; and the sound of the door made him prick up his ears. He opened oneeye, but his sight was troubled by all that he had had to drink and he did not know his little master when he saw him. He dragged himself to his feet with a great effort, turned round several times and then dropped on the floor again with a grunt of satisfaction.
Bread and the others were as bad; and the only exception was the Cat, who was sitting up prettily on a marble and gold bench and seemed in full possession of her senses. She sprang nimbly to the ground and stepped up to Tyltyl with a smile:
"I have been longing to see you," she said, "for I have been very unhappy among all these vulgar people. They first drank all the wine and then started shouting and singing and dancing, quarrelling and fighting and making such a noise that I was very glad when, at last, they fell into a tipsy sleep."
The children praised her warmly for her good behaviour. As a matter of fact, there was no great merit in this, for she could not stand anything stronger than milk; but we are seldom rewarded when by rights we ought to be and sometimes are when we have not deserved it.
After fondly kissing the children, Tylette asked a favour of Light:
"I have had such a wretched time," she whined. "Letme go out for a little while; it will do me good to be alone."
The Cat at once draped her cloak round her, opened the door and ran and bounded out into the forestThe Cat at once draped her cloak round her,opened the door and ran and bounded out into the forest
Light gave her consent without suspecting anything; and the Cat at once draped her cloak round her, put her hat straight, pulled up her soft grey boots over her knees, opened the door and ran and bounded out into the forest. We shall know, a little later, where treacherous Tylette was going so gaily and what was the horrid plot which she was mysteriously concocting.
As on the other days, the Children had their dinner with Light in a large room all encrusted with diamonds. The servants bustled around them smiling and brought delicious dishes and cakes.
After dinner, our little friends began to yawn. They felt sleepy very early, after all their adventures; and, Light—ever kind and thoughtful—made them live as they were accustomed to on earth. So as not to injure their health by altering their habits, she had set up their little beds in a part of the temple where the darkness would seem like night to them.
They went through any number of rooms to reach their bedroom. They had first to pass all the lights known to Man and then those which Man did not yet know.
There were great sumptuous apartments in splendid marble, lit up byrays so white and strong that the children were quite dazzled.
"That is the Light of the Rich," said Light to Tyltyl. "You see how dangerous it is. People run the risk of going blind when they live too much in its rays, which leave no room for soft and kindly shade."
And she hurried them on so that they might rest their eyes in the gentle Light of the Poor. Here, the Children suddenly felt as if they were in their parents' cottage, where everything was so humble and peaceful. The faint light was very pure and clear, but always flickering and ready to go out at the least breath.
Next they came to the beautiful Light of the Poets, which they liked immensely, for it had all the colours of the rainbow; and, when you passed through it, you saw lovely pictures, lovely flowers and lovely toys which you were unable to take hold of. Laughing merrily, the children ran after birds and butterflies, but everything faded away as soon as it was touched.
"Well, I never!" said Tyltyl, as he came panting back to Light. "This beats everything! I can't understand it!"
"You will understand later," she replied, "and, if you understand it properly, you will be among the very few human beings who know the Blue Bird when they see him."
After leaving the region of the Poets, our friends reached the Light of the Learned, which lies on the borders of the known and the unknown lights:
"Let's get on," said Tyltyl. "This is boring."
To tell the truth, he was a little bit frightened, for they were in a long row of cold and forbidding arches, which were streaked at every moment by dazzling lightning-flashes; and, at each flash, you saw out-of-the-way things that had no name as yet.
After these arches, they came to the Lights Unknown to Man; and Tyltyl, in spite of the sleep that pressed upon his eyelids, could not help admiring the hall with its violet columns and the gallery with its red rays. And the violet of the columns was such a dark violet and the red of the rays such a pale red that it was hardly possible to see either of them.
At last, they arrived at the room of smooth, unflecked Black Light, which men call Darkness because their eyes are not yet able to make it out. And here the Children fell asleep without delay on two soft beds of clouds.
Whenthe Children were not going on an expedition, they played about in the Realms of Light; and this was a great treat for them, for the gardens and the country around the temple were as wonderful as the halls and galleries of silver and gold.
The leaves of some of the plants were so broad and strong that they were able to lie down on them; and, when a breath of wind stirred the leaves, the Children swung as in a hammock. It was always summer there and never a moment was darkened by the night; but the hours were known by their different colours; there were pink, white, blue, lilac, green and yellow hours; and, according to their hues, the flowers, the fruits, the birds, the butterflies and the scents changed, causing Tyltyl and Mytyl a constant surprise. They had all the toys that they could wish for. When they were tired of playing, they stretched themselves out on the backs of the lizards, which were as long and wide as little boats, and quickly, quickly raced round the garden-paths, over the sand which was as white and as good to eat assugar. When they were thirsty, Water shook her tresses into the cup of the enormous flowers; and the Children drank straight out of the lilies, tulips and morning-glories. If they were hungry, they picked radiant fruits which revealed the taste of Light to them and which had juice that shone like the rays of the sun.
There was also, in a clump of bushes, a white marble pond which possessed a magic power: its clear waters reflected not the faces, but the souls of those who looked into it.
"It's a ridiculous invention," said the Cat, who steadily refused to go near the pond.
You, my dear little readers, who know her thoughts as well as I do, will not be surprised at her refusal. And you will also understand why our faithful Tylô was not afraid to go and quench his thirst there: he need not fear to reveal his thoughts, for he was the only creature whose soul never altered. The dear Dog had no feelings but those of love and kindness and devotion.
When Tyltyl bent over the magic mirror, he almost always saw the picture of a splendid Blue Bird, for the constant wish to find him filled his mind entirely. Then he would run to Light and entreat her:
"Tell me where he is!... You know everything: tell me where to find him!"
But she replied, in a tone of mystery:
"I cannot tell you anything. You must find him for yourself." And, kissing him, she added, "Cheer up; you are getting nearer to him at each trial."
Now there came a day on which she said to him:
"I have received a message from the Fairy Bérylune telling me that the Blue Bird is probably hidden in the graveyard.... It appears that one of the Dead in the graveyard is keeping him in his tomb...."
"What shall we do?" asked Tyltyl.
"It is very simple: at midnight you will turn the diamond and you shall see the Dead come out of the ground."
At these words, Milk, Water, Bread and Sugar began to yell and scream and chatter their teeth.
"Don't mind them," said Light to Tyltyl, in a whisper. "They are afraid of the Dead."
"I'm not afraid of them!" said Fire, frisking about. "Time was when I used to burn them; that was much more amusing than nowadays."
"Oh, I feel I am going to turn," wailed Milk.
"I'm not afraid," said the Dog, trembling in every limb,"but if you run away.... I shall run away too ... and with the greatest pleasure...."
The Cat sat pulling at her whiskers:
"I know what's what," she said, in her usual mysterious way.
"Be quiet," said Light. "The Fairy gave strict orders. You are all to stay with me, at the gate of the graveyard; the Children are to go in alone."
Tyltyl felt anything but pleased. He asked:
"Aren't you coming with us?"
"No," said Light. "The time for that has not arrived. Light cannot yet enter among the Dead. Besides, there is nothing to fear. I shall not be far away; and those who love me and whom I love always find me again...."
She had not finished speaking, when everything around the Children changed. The wonderful temple, the dazzling flowers, the splendid gardens vanished to make way for a poor little country cemetery, which lay in the soft moonlight. Near the Children were a number of graves, grassy mounds, wooden crosses and tombstones. Tyltyl and Mytyl were seized with terror and hugged each other:
"I am frightened!" said Mytyl.
"I am never frightened," stammered Tyltyl, who was shaking with fear, but did not like to say so.
"I say," asked Mytyl, "are the Dead wicked?"
"Why, no," said Tyltyl, "they're not alive!..."
"Have you ever seen one?"
"Yes, once, long ago, when I was very young...."
"What was it like?"
"Quite white, very still and very cold; and it didn't talk...."
"Are we going to see them?"
Tyltyl shuddered at this question and made an unsuccessful effort to steady his voice as he answered:
"Why, of course, Light said so!"
"Where are the Dead?" asked Mytyl.
Tyltyl cast a frightened look around him, for the Children had not dared to stir since they were alone:
"The Dead are here," he said, "under the grass or under those big stones."
"Are those the doors of their houses?" asked Mytyl, pointing to the tombstones.
"Yes."
"Do they go out when it's fine?"
"They can only go out at night."
"Why?"
"Because they are in their night-shirts."
"Do they go out also when it rains?"
"When it rains, they stay at home."
"Is it nice in their homes?"
"They say it's very cramped."
"Have they any little children?"
"Why, yes, they have all those who die."
"And what do they live on?"
Tyltyl stopped to think, before answering. As Mytyl's big brother, he felt it his duty to know everything; but her questions often puzzled him. Then he reflected that, as the Dead live under ground, they can hardly eat anything that is above it; and so he answered very positively:
"They eat roots!"
Mytyl was quite satisfied and returned to the great question that was occupying her little mind:
"Shall we see them?" she asked.
"Of course," said Tyltyl, "we see everything when I turn the diamond."
"And what will they say?"
Tyltyl began to grow impatient:
"They will say nothing, as they don't talk."
"Why don't they talk?" asked Mytyl.
"Because they have nothing to say," said Tyltyl, more cross and perplexed than ever.
"Why have they nothing to say?"
This time, the little big brother lost all patience. He shrugged his shoulders, gave Mytyl a push and shouted angrily:
"You're a nuisance!..."
Mytyl was greatly upset and confused. She sucked her thumb and resolved to hold her tongue for ever after, as she had been so badly treated! But a breath of wind made the leaves of the trees whisper and suddenly recalled the Children to their fears and their sense of loneliness. They hugged each other tight and began to talk again, so as not to hear the horrible silence:
"When will you turn the diamond?" asked Mytyl.
"You heard Light say that I was to wait until midnight, because that disturbs them less; it is when they come out to take the air...."
"Isn't it midnight yet...."
Tyltyl turned round, saw the church clock and hardly had the strength to answer, for the hands were just upon the hour:
"Listen," he stammered, "listen.... It is just going to strike.... There!... Do you hear?..."
And the clock struck twelve.
Then Mytyl, frightened out of her life, began to stamp her feet and utter piercing screams:
"I want to go away!... I want to go away!..."
Tyltyl, though stiff with fright, was able to say:
"Not now.... I am going to turn the diamond...."
"No, no, no!" cried Mytyl. "I am so frightened, little brother!... Don't do it!... I want to go away!..."
Tyltyl vainly tried to lift his hand: he could not reach the diamond with Mytyl clinging to him, hanging with all her weight on her brother's arm and screaming at the top of her voice:
"I don't want to see the Dead!... They will be awful!... I can't possibly!... I am much too frightened!..."
Poor Tyltyl was quite as much terrified as Mytyl, but at each trial, his will and courage were becoming greater; he was learning to master himself; and nothing could induce him to fail in his mission. The eleventh stroke rang out.
"The hour is passing!" he exclaimed. "It is time!"
And releasing himself resolutely from Mytyl's arms, he turned the diamond....
A moment of terrible silence followed for the poor little children. Then they saw the crosses totter, the mounds open, the slabs rise up....
Mytyl hid her face against Tyltyl's chest:
"They're coming out!" she cried. "They're there!... They're there!..."
The agony was more than the plucky little fellow could endure. He shut his eyes and only kept himself from fainting by leaning against a tree beside him. He remained like that for a minute that seemed to him like a century, not daring to move, not daring to breathe. Then he heard birds singing; a warm and scented breeze fanned his face; and, on his hands, on his neck, he felt the soft heat of the balmy summer sun. Now quite reassured, but unable to believe in so great a miracle, he opened his eyes and at once began to shout with happiness and admiration.
From all the open tombs came thousands of splendid flowers. They spread everywhere, on the paths, on the trees, on the grass; and they went up and up until it seemed that they would touch the sky. They were great full-blown roses, showing their hearts, wonderful golden hearts from which came the hot, bright rays which had wrapped Tyltyl in that summer warmth. Round the roses, birds sang and bees buzzed gaily.
"I can't believe it! It's not possible!" said Tyltyl. "What has become of the tombs and the stone crosses?"
Dazzled and bewildered, the two children walked hand in hand through the graveyard, of which not a trace remained, for there was nothing but a wonderful garden on every side. They were as glad and happy as could be, aftertheir terrible fright. They had thought that ugly skeletons would rise from the earth and run after them, pulling horrid faces; they had imagined all sorts of awful things. And now, in the presence of the truth, they saw that all that they had been told was a great big story and that Death does not exist. They saw that there are no Dead and that Life goes on always, always, but under fresh forms. The fading rose sheds its pollen, which gives birth to other roses, and its scattered petals scent the air. The fruits come when the blossoms fall from the trees; and the dingy, hairy caterpillar turns into a brilliant butterfly. Nothing perishes ... there are only changes....
Beautiful birds circled all round Tyltyl and Mytyl. There were no blue ones among them, but the two Children were so glad of their discovery that they asked for nothing more. Astonished and delighted, they kept on repeating:
"There are no Dead!... There are no Dead!..."
Assoon as Tyltyl and Mytyl were in bed, Light kissed them and faded away at once, so as not to disturb their sleep with the rays that always streamed from her beautiful self.
It must have been about midnight, when Tyltyl, who was dreaming of the little Blue Children, felt a soft velvet paw pass to and fro over his face. He was surprised and sat up in bed in a bit of a fright; but he was soon reassured when he saw his friend Tylette's glowing eyes glittering in the dark.
"Hush!" said the Cat in his ear. "Hush! Don't wake anybody. If we can arrange to slip out without being seen, we shall catch the Blue Bird to-night. I have risked my life, O my dearest master, in preparing a plan which will certainly lead us to victory!"
"But," said the boy, kissing Tylette, "Light would be so glad to help us ... and besides I should be ashamed to disobey her...."
"If you tell her," said the Cat, sharply, "all is lost, believe me. Do as I say; and the day is ours."
As she spoke these words, she hastened to dress him and also Mytyl, who had heard a noise and was asking to go with them.
"You don't understand," groaned Tyltyl. "You are too small: you don't know what a wicked thing we are doing...."
But the treacherous Cat answered all his arguments, saying that the reason why he had not found the Blue Bird so far was just the fault of Light, who always brought brightness with her. Let the Children only go hunting by themselves, in the dark, and they would soon find all the Blue Birds that make men's happiness. The traitress displayed such cleverness that, before long, Tyltyl's disobedience became a very fine thing in his own eyes. Each of Tylette's words provided a good excuse for his action or adorned it with a generous thought. He was too weak to set his will against trickery, allowed himself to be persuaded and walked out of the temple with a firm and cheerful step. Poor little fellow: if he could only have foreseen the terrible trap that awaited him!
Our three companions set out across the fields in the white light of the moon. The Cat seemed greatly excited,did nothing but talk and went so fast that the children were hardly able to keep up with her:
"This time," she declared, "we shall have the Blue Bird, I am sure of it! I asked all the Trees in the very oldest forest; they know him, because he hides among them. Then, in order to have everybody there, I sent the Rabbit to beat the assembly and call the principal Animals in the country."
They reached the edge of the dark forest in an hour's time. Then, at a turn in the road, they saw, in the distance, some one who seemed to be hurrying towards them. Tylette arched her back: she felt that it was her old time enemy. She quivered with rage: was he once more going to thwart her plans? Had he guessed her secret? Was he coming, at the last moment, to save the Children's lives?
She leaned over to Tyltyl and whispered to him, in her most honeyed voice:
"I am sorry to say it is our worthy friend the Dog. It is a thousand pities, because his presence will make us fail in our object. He is on the worst of terms with everybody, even the Trees. Do tell him to go back!"
"Go away, you ugly thing!" said Tyltyl, shaking his fist at the Dog.
Dear old faithful Tylô, who had come because he suspected the Cat'splans, was much hurt by these hard words. He was ready to cry, was still out of breath from running and could think of nothing to say.
"Go away, I tell you!" said Tyltyl again. "We don't want you here and there's an end of it.... You're a nuisance, there!..."
The Dog was an obedient animal and, at any other time, he would have gone; but his affection told him what a serious business it was and he stood stock still.
"Do you allow this disobedience?" said the Cat to Tyltyl, in a whisper. "Hit him with your stick."
Tyltyl beat the Dog, as the Cat suggested:
"There, that will teach you to be more obedient!" he said.
The poor Dog howled at receiving the blows; but there was no limit to his self-sacrifice. He went up to his young master pluckily and, taking him in his arms, cried:
"I must kiss you now you've beaten me!"
Tyltyl, who was a good-hearted little fellow, did not know what to do; and the Cat swore between her teeth like a wild beast. Fortunately, dear little Mytyl interfered on our friend's behalf:
"No, no; I want him to stay," she pleaded. "I'm frightened when Tylô's not with us."
Time was short and they had to come to a decision.
"I'll find some other way to get rid of the idiot!" thought the Cat. And, turning to the Dog, she said, in her most gracious manner, "We shall besopleased if you will join us!"
As they entered the great forest, the Children stuck close together, with the Cat and the Dog on either side of them. They were awed by the silence and the darkness and they felt much relieved when the Cat exclaimed:
"Here we are! Turn the diamond!"
Then the light spread around them and showed them a wonderful sight. They were standing in the middle of a large round space in the heart of the forest, where all the old, old Trees seemed to reach up to the sky. Wide avenues formed a white star amidst the dark green of the wood. Everything was peaceful and still; but suddenly a strange shiver ran through the foliage; the branches moved and stretched like human arms; the roots raised the earth that covered them, came together, took the shapes of legs and feet and stood on the ground; a tremendous crash rang through the air; the trunks of the Trees burst open and each of them let out its soul, which made its appearance like a funny human figure.
Some stepped slowly from their trunks; others came out with a jump; and all of them gathered inquisitively round our friends.
The talkative Poplar began to chatter like a magpie:
"Little Men! We shall be able to talk to them! We have done with silence!... Where do they come from?... Who are they?"
And so he rattled on.
The Lime-tree, who was a jolly, fat fellow, came up calmly, smoking his pipe; the conceited and dandified Chestnut-tree screwed his glass into his eye to stare at the Children. He wore a coat of green silk embroidered with pink and white flowers. He thought the little ones too poor-looking and turned away in derision.
"He thinks he's everybody, since he has taken to living in town! He despises us!" sneered the Poplar, who was jealous of him.
"Oh, dear, oh, dear!" wept the Willow, a wretched little stunted fellow, who came clattering along in a pair of wooden shoes too big for him. "They have come to cut off my head and arms for firewood!"
Tyltyl could not believe his eyes. He never stopped asking the Cat questions:
"Who's this?... Who's that?..."
And Tylette introduced the soul of each Tree to him.
There was the Elm, who was a sort of short-winded, paunchy, crabby gnome; the Beech, an elegant, sprightlyperson; the Birch, who looked like the ghosts in the Palace of Night, with his white flowing garments and his restless gestures. The tallest figure was the Fir-tree: Tyltyl found it very difficult to see his face perched right at the top of his long, thin body; but he looked gentle and sad, whereas the Cypress, who stood near him, dressed all in black, frightened Tyltyl terribly.
However, so far nothing very dreadful had happened. The Trees, delighted at being able to talk, were all chattering together; and our young friend was simply going to ask them where the Blue Bird was hidden, when, all of a sudden, silence reigned. The Trees bowed respectfully and stood aside to make way for an immensely old Tree, dressed in a long gown embroidered with moss and lichen. He leaned with one hand on a stick and with the other on a young Oak Sapling who acted as his guide, for the Old Oak was blind. His long white beard streamed in the wind.
"It's the King!" said Tyltyl to himself, when he saw his mistletoe crown. "I will ask him the secret of the forest."
And he was just going up to him, when he stopped, seized with surprise and joy: there sat the Blue Bird before him, perched on the old Oak's shoulder.
"He has the Blue Bird!" cried the boy, gleefully. "Quick! Quick! Give him to me!"
"Silence! Hold your tongue!" said the greatly shocked Trees.
"Take off your hat, Tyltyl," said the Cat. "It's the Oak!"
The poor Child at once obeyed with a smile; he did not understand the danger that threatened him and he did not hesitate to answer, "Yes, Sir," when the Oak asked him if he was Tyl the woodcutter's son.
Then the Oak, trembling with rage, began to lay a terrible charge against Daddy Tyl:
"In my family alone," he said, "your father has put to death six hundred of my sons, four hundred and seventy-five uncles and aunts, twelve hundred cousins of both sexes, three hundred and eighty daughters-in-law and twelve thousand great-grandsons!"
No doubt his anger made him exaggerate a little; but Tyltyl listened without protest and said, very politely:
"I beg your pardon, Sir, for disturbing you.... The Cat said that you would tell us where the Blue Bird is."
The Oak was too old not to know all there was to know about Men and Animals. He smiled in his beard when he guessed the trap laid by the Cat and he felt very glad at it, for he had long wished to revenge the whole forest for the slavery to which Man had subjected it.
"It's for the Fairy Bérylune's little girl, who is very ill," the boy continued.
"Enough!" said the Oak, silencing him. "I do not hear the Animals.... Where are they?... All this concerns them as much as us.... We, the Trees, must not assume the responsibility alone for the grave measures that have become necessary."
"Here they come!" said the Fir-tree, looking over the top of the other Trees. "They are following the Rabbit.... I can see the souls of the Horse, the Bull, the Ox, the Cow, the Wolf, the Sheep, the Pig, the Goat, and the Bear...."
All the Animals now arrived. They walked on their hind-legs and were dressed like human beings. They solemnly took up their positions in a circle among the Trees, all except the frivolous Goat, who began to skip down the avenues, and the Pig, who hoped to find some glorious truffles among the roots that had newly left the ground.
"Are all here present?" asked the Oak.
"The Hen could not leave her eggs," said the Rabbit, "the Hare was out for a run, the Stag has pains in his horns and his corns, the Fox is ill—here is the doctor's certificate—the Goose did not understand and the Turkey flew into a passion...."
"Look!" whispered Tyltyl to Mytyl. "Aren't they funny? They are just like the rich children's fine toys in the windows at Christmas-time."
The Rabbit especially made them laugh, with his cocked hat over his big ears, his blue, embroidered coat and his drum slung in front of him.
Meanwhile, the Oak was explaining the situation to his brothers the Trees and to the Animals. Treacherous Tylette had been quite right in reckoning on their hatred.
"The child you see before you," said the Oak, "thanks to a talisman stolen from the powers of Earth, is able to take possession of our Blue Bird and thus to snatch from us the secret which we have kept since the origin of life.... Now we know enough of Man to entertain no doubt as to the fate which he reserves for us, once he is in possession of this secret.... Any hesitation would be both foolish and criminal.... It is a serious moment; the child must be done away with before it is too late...."
"What is he saying?" asked Tyltyl, who could not make out what the old Tree was driving at.
The Dog was prowling round the Oak and now showed his fangs:
"Do you see my teeth, you old cripple?" he growled.
"He is insulting the Oak!" said the Beech indignantly.
"Drive him out!" shouted the Oak, angrily. "He's a traitor!"
"What did I tell you?" whispered the Cat to Tyltyl. "I will arrange things.... But send him away."
"Will you be off!" said Tyltyl to the Dog.
"Do let me worry the gouty old beggar's moss slippers!" begged Tylô.
Tyltyl tried in vain to prevent him. The rage of Tylô, who understood the danger, knew no bounds; and he would have succeeded in saving his master, if the Cat had not thought of calling in the Ivy, who till then had kept his distance. The Dog pranced about like a madman, abusing everybody. He railed at the Ivy:
"Come on, if you dare, you old ball of twine, you!"
The onlookers growled; the Oak was pale with fury at seeing his authority denied; the Trees and the Animals were indignant, but, as they were cowards, not one of them dared protest; and the Dog would have settled all of them, if he had gone on with his rebellion. But Tyltyl threatened him harshly; and, suddenly yielding to his docile instincts, Tylô lay down at his master's feet. Thus it is that our finest virtues are treated as faults, when we exercise them without discrimination.
From that moment, the Children were lost. The Ivygagged and bound the poor Dog, who was then taken behind the Chestnut-tree and tied to his biggest root.
"Now," cried the Oak, in a voice of thunder, "we can take counsel quietly.... This is the first time that it is given us to judge Man! I do not think that, after the monstrous injustice which we have suffered, there can remain the least doubt as to the sentence that awaits him...."
One cry rang from every throat:
"Death! Death! Death!"
The poor Children did not at first understand their doom, for the Trees and Animals, who were more accustomed to talking their own special language, did not speak very distinctly; and, besides, the innocent Children could never imagine such cruelty!
"What is the matter with them?" asked the boy. "Are they displeased?"
"Don't be alarmed," said the Cat. "They are a little annoyed because Spring is late...."
And she went on talking into Tyltyl's ear, to divert his attention from what was happening.
While the trusting lad was listening to her fibs, the others were discussing which form of execution would be the most practical and the least dangerous. The Bull suggested agood butt with the horns; the Beech offered his highest branch to hang the little Children on; and the Ivy was already preparing a slip-knot! The Fir-tree was willing to give the four planks for the coffin and the Cypress the perpetual grant of a tomb.
"By far the simplest way," whispered the Willow, "would be to drown them in one of my rivers."
And the Pig grunted between his teeth:
"In my opinion, the great thing would be to eat the little girl.... She ought to be very tender...."
"Silence!" roared the Oak. "What we have to decide is which of us shall have the honour of striking the first blow!"
"That honour falls to you, our King!" said the Fir-tree.
"Alas, I am too old!" replied the Oak. "I am blind and infirm! To you, my evergreen brother, be the glory, in my place, of striking the decisive blow that shall set us free."
But the Fir-tree declined the honour on the pretext that he was already to have the pleasure of burying the two victims and that he was afraid of rousing jealousy. He suggested the Beech, as owning the best club.
"It is out of the question," said the Beech. "You know I am worm-eaten! Ask the Elm and the Cypress."
Thereupon the Elm began to moan and groan: a mole had twisted his great toe the night before and he couldhardly stand upright; and the Cypress excused himself and so did the Poplar, who declared that he was ill and shivering with fever. Then the Oak's indignation flared up:
"You are afraid of Man!" he exclaimed. "Even those unprotected and unarmed little Children inspire you with terror!... Well, I shall go forth alone, old and shaky and blind as I am, against the hereditary enemy!... Where is he?..."
And groping his way with his stick, he moved towards Tyltyl, growling as he went.
Our poor little friend had been very much afraid during the last few minutes. The Cat had left him suddenly, saying that she wanted to smooth down the excitement, and had not come back. Mytyl nestled trembling against him; and he felt very lonely, very unhappy among those dreadful people whose anger he was beginning to notice. When he saw the Oak marching on him with a threatening air, he drew his pocket-knife and defied him like a man:
"Is it I he's after, that old one, with his big stick?" he cried.
But, at the sight of the knife, Man's irresistible weapon, all the Trees shook with fright and rushed at the Oak to hold him back. There was a struggle; and the old King, conquered by the weight of years, threw away his stick:
"Shame on us!" he shouted. "Shame on us! Let the Animals deliver us!..."
The Animals were only waiting for this! All wanted to be revenged together. Fortunately, their very eagerness caused a scrimmage which delayed the murder of the dear little ones.
Mytyl uttered piercing screams.
"Don't be afraid," said Tyltyl, doing his best to protect her. "I have my knife."
"The little chap means to die game!" said the Cock.
"That's the one I shall eat first," said the Pig, eyeing Mytyl greedily.
"What have I done to all of you?" asked Tyltyl.
"Nothing at all, my little man," said the Sheep. "Eaten my little brother, my two sisters, my three uncles, my aunt, my grandpapa and my grandmamma.... Wait, wait, when you're down, you shall see that I have teeth also...."
And so the Sheep and the Horse, who were the greatest cowards, waited for the little fellow to be knocked down before they dared take their share in the spoil.
While they were talking, the Wolf and the Bear treacherously attacked Tyltyl from behind and pushed him over. It was an awful moment. All the Animals, seeing him on the ground, tried to get at him. The boy raised himself toone knee and brandished his knife. Mytyl uttered yells of distress; and, to crown all, it suddenly became dark.
Tyltyl called wildly for assistance:
"Help! Help!... Tylô! Tylô!... To the rescue!... Where is Tylette?... Come! Come!..."
The Cat's voice was heard in the distance, where she was craftily keeping out of sight:
"I can't come!" she whined. "I'm wounded!"
All this time, plucky little Tyltyl was defending himself as best he could, but he was alone against all of them, felt that he was going to be killed and, in a faltering voice, cried once more:
"Help!... Tylô! Tylô!... I can't hold out!... There are too many of them!... The Bear!... The Pig! The Wolf! The Fir-tree! The Beech!... Tylô! Tylô! Tylô!..."
Then the Dog came leaping along, dragging his broken bonds and elbowing his way through the Trees and Animals and flung himself before his master, whom he defended furiously:
"Here, my little god! Don't be afraid! Have at them! I know how to use my teeth!"
All the Trees and Animals raised a loud outcry:
"Renegade!... Idiot!... Traitor!... Felon!...Simpleton!... Sneak!... Leave him!... He's a dead man!... Come over to us!..."
The Dog fought on:
"Never! Never!... I alone against all of you!... Never! Never!... True to the gods, to the best, to the greatest!... Take care, my little master, here's the Bear!... Look out for the Bull!"
Tyltyl vainly tried to defend himself:
"I'm done for, Tylô! It was a blow from the Elm! My hand's bleeding!" And he dropped to the ground. "No, I can hold out no longer!"
"They are coming!" said the Dog. "I hear somebody!... We are saved! It is Light!... Saved! Saved!... See, they're afraid, they're retreating!... Saved, my little king!..."
And, sure enough, Light was coming towards them; and with her the dawn rose over the forest, which became light as day.
"What is it?... What has happened?" she asked, quite alarmed at the sight of the little ones and their dear Tylô covered with wounds and bruises. "Why, my poor boy, didn't you know? Turn the diamond quickly!"
Tyltyl hastened to obey; and immediately the souls of all the Trees rushed back into their trunks, which closedupon them. The souls of the Animals also disappeared; and there was nothing to be seen but a cow and a sheep browsing peacefully in the distance. The forest became harmless once more; and Tyltyl looked around him in amazement:
"No matter," he said, "but for the Dog ... and if I hadn't had my knife!..."
Light thought that he had been punished enough and did not scold him. Besides, she was very much upset by the horrible danger which he had run.
Tyltyl, Mytyl and the Dog, glad to meet again safe and sound, exchanged wild kisses. They laughingly counted their wounds, which were not very serious.
Tylette was the only one to make a fuss:
"The Dog's broken my paw!" she mewed.
Tylô felt as if he could have made a mouthful of her:
"Never mind!" he said. "It'll keep!"
"Leave her alone, will you, you ugly beast?" said Mytyl.
Our friends went back to the Temple of Light to rest after their adventure. Tyltyl, repenting of his disobedience, dared not even mention the Blue Bird of which he had caught a glimpse; and Light said to the Children, gently:
"Let this teach you, dears, that Man is all alone against all in this world. Never forget that."