A vague,
milky, impenetrable light prevails_. TYLTYL _and_ MYTYL _are at
the foot of the oak_.
TYLTYL
Here Is the tree!...
MYTYL
There's the board!...
TYLTYL
I can't read it.... Wait, I will climb up on this root.... That's it.... It
says, "Land of Memory."
MYTYL
Is this where it begins?...
TYLTYL
Yes, there's an arrow....
MYTYL
Well, where are grandad and granny?...
TYLTYL
Behind the fog.... We shall see....
MYTYL
I can see nothing at all!... I can't see my feet or my hands....
(_Whimpering_) I'm cold!... I don't want to travel any more.... I want
to go home....
TYLTYL
Come, don't keep on crying, just like Water.... You ought to be ashamed of
yourself.... A great big little girl like you.... Look, the fog is lifting
already.... We shall see what's behind it....
(_The mist begins to move; It grows thinner and lighter, disperses,
evaporates. Soon, in a more and more transparent light, appears, under a
leafy vault, a cheerful little peasant's cottage, covered with creepers.
The door and windows are open. There are bee-hives under a shed,
flower-pots on the window-sills, a cage with a sleeping blackbird. Beside
the door is a bench, on which an old peasant and his wife_, TYLTYL'S
_grandfather and grandmother, are seated, both sound asleep_.
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