  At evening the grandmother took the basket in which Fanny had brought the cake to her, and filling it with plums and raisins put the handle over her arm, and said: “Now, Fanny, run straight home, and don’t stop to amuse yourself and play with any of the village scamps. Be a good girl always. Good-bye.” She kissed her, but Fanny “Grandmother,” said she. “Yes, Fanny dear.” “I should like so much to know,” said Fanny, “if there were any fine princes among the birds that ate my bread.” “No,” said grandmother; “nowadays there are no more fairies, and the birds are all creatures.” “Good-bye, Grandmother.” “Good-bye, Fanny.” AS SHE WENT ON HER WAY WITH EVEN STEPS AND LOOKING VERY WISE AND GOOD SHE HEARD A PRETTY SOUND OF BIRDS CRYING BEHIND HER, AND TURNING HER HEAD SHE RECOGNIZED THE LITTLE BEGGARS THAT SHE HAD FED WHEN THEY WERE HUNGRY. THEY HAD BEEN FOLLOWING HER. “GOOD NIGHT, LITTLE FRIENDS,” SHE CALLED TO THEM. “GOOD NIGHT. IT’S TIME TO GO TO BED NOW. GOOD NIGHT.” Printed in France On the way she met Antony, the gardener’s little boy, who said to her: “Are you coming to play with me?” “No,” replied Fanny, “I’m not coming to play with you because my grandmother told me not to stop. But I’ll give you an apple, because I like you very much.” Antony took the apple and kissed Fanny nicely. They loved each other dearly, these two. He would say: “She’s my little wife.” And she would agree: “He’s my little man.” As she went on her way with even steps and looking very wise and good she heard a pretty sound of birds crying behind her, and turning her head she recognized the little beggars that she had fed when they were hungry. They had been following her. “Goodnight, little friends,” she called to them. “Good night. It’s time to go to bed now. Good night!” And the little winged singers replied in cries that meant, in bird language: “God keep you safe.” Thus Fanny came back home to her mother, followed by bird music in the air. |
|
