And the fox rolled at the foot of the beech and filled his coat with the prickly fruit and ran all over the country with it. The bear did the same and moreover laughed at the old oak while he lay and rested in the shadow of the beech. The wood-mouse was delighted with the new food which she got and thought that beech-nuts tasted much better than acorns.
New little beeches shot up around and grew just as quickly as their parents and looked as green and happy as if they did not know what a bad conscience was.
And the old oak gazed out sadly over the forest. The bright-green beech-leaves peeped forth on every hand and the oaks sighed and told one another their troubles:
"They are taking our power from us," they said and shook themselves as well as they could for the beeches. "The land is no longer ours."
One branch died after the other and the storm broke them off and flung them to the ground. The old oak had now only a few leaves left in his top:
"The end is at hand," he said, gravely.
But there were many more people in the land now than there had been before and they hastened to cut down the oaks while there were still some left:
"Oak makes better timber than beech," they said.
"So at last we get a little appreciation," said the old oak. "But we shall have to pay for it with our lives."