“But how shall we see them, if they are dead?” asked Tyltyl.
Then the good Fairy explained that they would not be really dead until their grandchildren ceased to think of them:
“Men do not know this secret,” she added. “But, thanks to the diamond, you, Tyltyl, will see that the dead whom we remember live as happily as though they were not dead.”
“Are you coming with us?” asked the boy, turning to Light, who stood in the doorway and lit up all the hall.
“No,” said the Fairy. “Light must not look at the past. Her energies must be devoted to the future!”
The two Children were starting on their way, when they discovered that they were very hungry. The Fairy at once ordered Bread to give them something to eat; and that big, fat fellow, delighted with the importance of his duty, undid the top of his robe, drew his scimitar and cut two slices out of his stomach. The Children screamed with laughter. Tylô dropped his gloomy thoughts for a moment and begged for a bit of bread; and everybody struck up the farewell chorus. Sugar, who was very full of himself, also wanted to impress the company and, breaking off two of his fingers, handed them to the astonished Children.
As they were all moving towards the door, the Fairy Bérylune stopped them:
“Not today,” she said. “The children must go alone. It would be indiscreet to accompany them; they are going to spend the evening with their late family. Come, be off! Goodbye, dear children, and mind that you are back in good time: it is extremely important!”
The two Children took each other by the hand and, carrying the big cage, passed out of the hall; and their companions, at a sign from the Fairy, filed in front of her to return to the palace. Our friend Tylô was the only one who did not answer to his name. The moment he heard the Fairy say that the Children were to go alone, he had made up his mind to go and look after them, whatever happened; and, while the others were saying goodbye, he hid behind the door. But the poor fellow had reckoned without the all-seeing eyes of the Fairy Bérylune.
“Tylô!” she cried. “Tylô! Here!”
And the poor Dog, who had so long been used to obey, dared not resist the command and came, with his tail between his legs, to take his place among the others. He howled with despair when he saw his little master and mistress swallowed up in the great gold staircase.
III
The Land of Memory
The Fairy Bérylune had told the Children that the Land of Memory was not far off; but to reach it you had to go through a forest that was so dense and so old that your eyes could not see the tops of the trees. It was always shrouded in a heavy mist; and the Children would certainly have lost their way, if the Fairy had not said to them beforehand:
“It is straight ahead; and there is only one road.”
The ground was carpeted with flowers which were all alike: they were snow-white pansies and very pretty; but, as they never saw the sun, they had no scent.
Those little flowers comforted the Children, who felt extremely lonely. A great mysterious silence surrounded them; and they trembled a little with a very pleasant sense of fear which they had never felt before.
“Let’s take Granny a bunch of flowers,” said Mytyl.
“That’s a good idea! She will be pleased!” cried Tyltyl.
And, as they walked along, the Children gathered a beautiful white nosegay. The dear little things did not know that every pansy (which means “a thought”) that they picked brought them nearer to their grandparents; and they soon saw before them a large oak with a notice-board nailed to it.
“Here we are!” cried the boy in triumph, as, climbing up on a root, he read:
“The Land of Memory.”
They had arrived; but they turned to every side without seeing a thing:
“I can see nothing at all!” whimpered Mytyl. “I’m cold! … I’m tired! … I don’t want to travel any more!”
Tyltyl, who was wholly wrapped up in his errand, lost his temper:
“Come, don’t keep on crying just like Water! … You ought to be ashamed of yourself!” he said. “There! Look! Look! The fog is lifting!”
And, sure enough, the mist parted before their eyes, like veils torn by an invisible hand; the big trees faded away, everything vanished and, instead, there appeared a pretty little peasant’s cottage, covered with creepers and standing in a little garden filled with flowers and with trees all over fruit.
The Children at once knew the dear cow in the orchard, the watchdog at the door, the blackbird in his wicker cage; and everything was steeped in a pale light and a warm and balmy air.
Tyltyl and Mytyl stood amazed. So that was the Land of Memory! What lovely weather it was! And how nice it felt to be there! They at once made up their minds to come back often, now that they knew the way. But how great was their happiness when the last veil disappeared and they saw, at a few steps from them, Grandad and Granny sitting on a bench, sound asleep. They clapped their hands and called out gleefully:
“It’s Grandad! It’s Granny! … There they are! There they are!”
But they were a little scared by this great piece of magic and dared not move from behind the tree; and they stood looking at the dear old couple, who woke up gently and slowly under their eyes. Then they heard Granny Tyl’s trembling voice say:
“I have a notion that our grandchildren who are still alive are coming to see us today.”
And Gaffer Tyl answered:
“They are certainly thinking of us, for I feel queer and I have pins and needles in my legs.”
“I think they must be quite near,” said Granny, “for I see tears of joy dancing before my eyes and. …”
Granny had not time to finish
