Little Christopher often remembered his grandfather killing his fairies. What a terrible, superior being he seemed to be! He felt like crying; if there were no fairies, he wondered, what filled the darkness, the water of the well, the flames? What lived in them? And while he searched in bewilderment his eyes seemed to snatch for support like the hands of a drowning man.
He grew resigned, however, and called the “world’s end” the timber yard, just like any grown-up. Under his rarely moving eyelids his pale eyes would look indifferently into the air. Only his voice showed signs of disillusion whenever he imitated his seniors and spoke in their language of doings once dear to him.
The years passed by and the magic cave under the wall of the courtyard became a ditch, the terrifying iron gate an attic door and the stove fairies ordinary flames. The piano mice too came to an end. When a string cracked now and then in the house, Christopher opened his eyes widely and stared into the darkness which had become void to him.
“Anne, are you asleep?”
“Yes, long ago.”
“I had such a funny dream ... of a girl. She raised her arms and leaned back.”
“Go to sleep.”
Before Christopher’s eyes the darkness (forsaken by dwarfs and fairies since he had given up believing in them) became incomprehensibly populated. He saw the girl of whom he had dreamt, her face, her body too. She was tall and slender, her bosom rigid, she lifted both her arms and twisted her hair like a black mane round her head. Just like the sister of Gabriel Hosszu before the looking-glass when he peeped at her last Sunday through the keyhole.
“Anne....”
The boy listened with his mouth open. Everything was silent in the house. Suddenly he pulled the blanket over his head. He began to tell stories to himself. He told how the King wore a golden crown and lived up on the hill in a white castle. It was never dark in the castle, tallow candles burnt all the night. His bed was guarded by slaves, slaves did his lessons for him, slaves brought a dark-eyed princess to him. Chains rattled on the princess. “Take them off!” he commanded. “You are free.” The princess knelt down at his feet and asked what she should give him for his pardon. “Take your hair down and twist it up again,” he said, said it quite simply and smiled. And the princess took her hair down many times and many times twisted it up again.... He fell asleep and still he smiled.