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’s plans, 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 be so pleased 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, sprightly person; 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
