MYTYL (stamping her feet, amid her sobs) I won't!... I sha'n't!...
TYLTYL Sugar and Bread, take Mytyl by the hand and run away with her.... I am going to open the door....
NIGHT Run for your lives!... Come quickly!... It is time!... (She flees.)
BREAD (fleeing wildly) At least wait till we are at the end of the hall!...
THE CAT (also fleeing) Wait! Wait!...
(They hide behind the columns at the other end of the hall. TYLTYL remains alone with the DOG by the monumental door.)
THE DOG (panting and hiccoughing with suppressed fright) I shall stay, I shall stay!... I'm not afraid!... I shall stay!... I shall stay with my little god!... I shall stay!... I shall stay!...
TYLTYL (patting the DOG) That's right, Tylô, that's right!... Kiss me.... You and I are two.... And now, steady!...
(He places the key in the lock. A cry of alarm comes from the other end of the hall, where the runaways have taken refuge. The key has hardly touched the door before its tall and wide leaves open in the middle, glide apart and disappear on either side in the thickness of the walls, suddenly revealing the most unexpected of gardens, unreal, infinite and ineffable, a dream-garden bathed in nocturnal light, where, among stars and planets, illumining all that they touch, flying ceaselessly from jewel to jewel and from moonbeam to moonbeam, fairy-like blue birds hover perpetually and harmoniously down to the confines of the horizon, birds innumerable to the point of appearing to be the breath, the azured atmosphere, the very substance of the wonderful garden.)
TYLTYL (dazzled, bewildered, standing in the light of the garden) Oh!... Heaven!... (Turning to those who have fled) Come quickly!... They are here!... It's they, it's they, it's they!... We have them at last!... Thousands of blue birds!... Millions!.... Thousands of millions!... There will be too many!... Come, Mytyl!... Come, Tylô!... Come, all!... Help me!... (Darting in among the birds.) You can catch them by handfuls!... They are not shy!... They are not afraid of us!.... Here! Here!.... (MYTYL and the others run up. They all enter the dazzling garden, except NIGHT and the CAT.) You see!... There are too many of them!... They fly into my hands!... Look, they are eating the moonbeams!... Mytyl, where are you?.... There are so many blue wings, so many feathers falling that one cannot see anything for them!.... Don't bite them, Tylô!.... Don't hurt them!.... Take them very gently!....