"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 pa.s.sing!" 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 rea.s.sured, 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 gra.s.s; 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, after their 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 b.u.t.terfly. 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: