Fanchon and Frederic ran home as fast as they could, shouting as they went:—
“Oh! the Shining Child is a beautiful Princess!”
“Oh! the Shining Child is a beautiful Prince!”
They wanted, in their delight, to tell this to their parents, but their father came to meet them with a most extraordinary man walking by his side. This stranger kept muttering to himself:—
“What a nice pair of stupids these are! Ah! Ah!”
The Count took him by the hand, and said to the children: “This gentleman is the tutor whom your kind Cousin has sent to teach you. So now shake hands with him, and bid him welcome.”
But the children looked sidewise at him, and could move neither hand nor foot. This was because they had never seen such an extraordinary being. He was no taller than Frederic. His body was round and bloated, and his little weazen legs could hardly support its weight. His head was queer and square, and his face too ugly for anything, for not only was his nose long and pointed, but his little bulging eyes glittered, and his wide mouth was opened in a ferocious way. He was clad in black from top to toe, and his name was Tutor Ink.
Now, as the children stood staring like stone images, their mother cried out angrily: “You rude children, what are you thinking of? Come! come! give the tutor your hands.”
The children, taking heart, did as their mother bade them. But as soon as Tutor Ink took hold of their hands, they jumped back, screaming: “Oh! Oh! It hurts!”
The tutor laughed aloud, and showed a needle, which he had hidden in his hand to prick the children with. Fanchon was weeping; but Frederic growled. “Just try that again, little Big-Body, if you dare!”