“Nonsense!” said Frederic, “what should we do with them? I’ll tell you what it is, Fanchon, Mother is right, I suspect. The toys were good enough, but we didn’t know how to play with them. If we were as learned as our rich cousins, we should be so wise that all our toys would now be whole; and we should know how to play with them rightly.”
And at that Fanchon began to sob and cry bitterly, and Frederic joined her; and they both howled and lamented until the wood rang again and again: “Oh! poor, unfortunate children that we are! Oh! that we were as wise as our cousins!”
But suddenly they both stopped crying, and asked each other in amazement:—
“Do you hear anything, Fanchon?”
“Do you hear anything, Frederic?”
For out of the deepest shade of the dark thicket in front of the children, a wonderful brightness began to shine, playing like moonlight over the leaves that trembled as if in joy. Then through the whispering trees came a sweet musical note, like the sound of a harp. The children lay motionless with awe. All their sorrow passed away from them, and tender, happy tears rose into their eyes.
As the radiance streamed brighter and brighter through the bushes, and the marvellous music grew louder and louder, the children’s hearts beat high. They gazed eagerly at the brightness. Then they saw, smiling at them from the thicket, the most beautiful face of a child, with the sun beaming on it in splendour.
“Oh! come to us!—Come to us!—darling Shining Child!” cried Fanchon and Frederic, stretching out their arms; and their hearts were filled with an indescribable longing.
“I am coming! I am coming!” a sweet voice cried from the bushes.
And then, as if borne on the wings of the breeze, the Stranger Child seemed to float hovering toward Fanchon and Frederic.