LITMIR.BIZ

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touched it with her nose, which, unfortunately, was extremely short.

      One day when Miss Barbara had bumped her head on a half-opened door, Elsie’s mother said, “Really, one of these days you’re going to hurt yourself badly! I’m telling you, my dear Barbara, you should wear glasses.”

      Miss Barbara answered sharply, “Me? Glasses? Never! I’m afraid they’d spoil my vision!”

      When they tried to make her understand that her vision couldn’t get any worse, she protested, with an air of triumphant conviction, that she wouldn’t trade “the treasures of her vision” with anybody. She saw the tiniest little objects the way others saw them through the strongest magnifying glasses; her eyes were two microscope lenses continually revealing marvels that no one else could see. The fact is, she could count the threads of the finest cloth and the stitches of the most delicate fabrics, while Elsie, who had so-called good eyes, saw absolutely nothing.

      For a long time, they called her Mademoiselle Grenouille (Miss Frog), and then they called her Mademoiselle Hanneton (Miss Maybug), because she banged into things everywhere. Finally, the name Bug-Eyed Fairy prevailed because she was too well educated and too intelligent to be compared to an animal, and also because everyone, seeing the eyelet and the other marvelous embroidery that she knew how to do, would say, “She’s a true fairy!”

      Miss Barbara wasn’t indifferent to this compliment, and she usually would reply, “Who knows? Maybe! Maybe!”

      One day, Elsie asked her if she was serious when she said that, and Miss Barbara cleverly repeated, “Maybe, my dear child, maybe!”

      That was all that was needed to arouse Elsie’s curiosity. She no longer believed in fairies, for she was twelve years old. But she regretted not believing anymore, and you wouldn’t have had to ask her twice for her to believe again.

      The fact is, Miss Barbara had some strange habits. She hardly ate anything and hardly ever slept. They weren’t even sure that she did sleep, because no one had ever seen her bed unmade. She said that she remade it herself each day, early in the morning when she woke up, because she could only sleep in a bed that was made to her liking. In the evening, as soon as Elsie left the parlor with her maid, who slept next to her, Miss Barbara would eagerly retire to the summerhouse that she had requested for her living quarters, and it was said you could see a light burning there until daybreak. It was even claimed that, at night, she would walk with a little lantern, talking out loud to invisible beings.

      Elsie’s maid talked about Miss Barbara’s activities so much that, one fine evening, Elsie felt an irresistible desire to see them for herself, to discover the mysteries of the cottage. But how would she dare go to such a place at night? She would have to walk at least two hundred feet through a clump of lilacs over which a large cedar grew, and under this dual shadow, follow a narrow, winding path that was dark, dark, dark!

      “Never,” thought Elsie. “I’ll never have the courage to do it.”

      The servants’ silly gossip had frightened her, and she didn’t chance it. But the next day she did risk asking Miss Barbara about what she did during her long evenings.

      “I stay busy,” the Bug-Eyed Fairy answered gently. “My whole day is dedicated to you; the evening belongs to me. I use it to work for my own betterment.”

      “So, you don’t know everything, since you still study?”

      “The more you study, the better you can see that you still know nothing.”

      “But what do you study so much? Latin? Greek?”

      “I know Latin and Greek. I’m busy with other things.”

      “What? Don’t you want to tell?”

      “I look at things that only I can see.”

      “What do you see?”

      “Please don’t ask me to tell you; you’d want to see it too, and you wouldn’t be able to or you’d see it poorly, which would be a disappointment to you.”

      “Is what you see very beautiful?”

      “More beautiful than everything you have seen or will ever see in your dreams.”

      “Dear Miss Barbara, show it to me, I beg you!”

      “No, my child, never! It’s not up to me.”

      “Well, I will too see it!” shouted Elsie, becoming quite distraught. “I’ll come to your house at night and you won’t turn me out.”

      “I don’t think you’re likely to come. You would never dare come!”

      “You mean I’ll need courage to come to your nighttime ceremonies?”

      “You’ll need patience, and you have absolutely none.”

      This angered Elsie and she changed the subject. Later she returned to her argument and pestered the governess so much that Miss Barbara promised to take her to her summerhouse that evening, but she warned Elsie she would see nothing or would understand nothing that she might see. See! See something new, unknown! What curiosity, what excitement for an inquisitive little girl! Elsie didn’t feel like eating her dinner. She bounced around on her chair uncontrollably, she counted the hours, the minutes. Finally, after the evening’s occupations, she got permission from her mother to go to the summerhouse with her governess.

      They were barely into the garden when they met someone who appeared to make Miss Barbara very nervous. It was only Mr. Bat, Elsie’s brothers’ tutor, a very inoffensive-looking man. He wasn’t handsome: he was thin, with a pointy nose and ears, and always dressed from head to toe in black. He wore coats with tails, very pointy also. He was shy, even timid; after lessons, he would disappear as if he needed to hide. He never spoke at the table, and in the evening, while waiting to supervise the children’s bedtime, he would walk in circles around the terrace in the garden, which was harmless but appeared to be an indication of a shallow mentality, given to foolish idleness. Miss Barbara didn’t think of him that way. She was terrified of Mr. Bat, first of all because of his name. She claimed that when a person had the misfortune to have such a name, he should leave the country and take another name. She had all sorts of prejudices against him. She held it against him that he had a good appetite, and she thought he was gluttonous and cruel. She contended that his strange circular walks were an indication of the most harmful inclinations and concealed the most sinister intentions.

      Therefore, when she saw him on the terrace, she shuddered. Elsie, who was clinging to Miss Barbara’s arm, felt it tremble. What was so astonishing about the fact that Mr. Bat, who loved the fresh air, was outside until his pupils’ bedtime? They went to bed later than Elsie, the youngest of the three. Miss Barbara was nonetheless shocked by this behavior, and walking past him, she couldn’t keep from saying dryly, “Do you plan to stay out here all night?”

      Mr. Bat started to run away, but, afraid of being impolite, he tried to answer with a question.

      “Does my presence bother anyone, and do they want me to go back in?”

      “I have no orders to give you,” continued Miss Barbara sharply, “but I’m inclined to believe you’d be better off in the parlor with the family.”

      “I’m uncomfortable in the parlor,” the tutor answered modestly. “My poor eyes suffer terribly from the heat and the bright light of the lamps.”

      “Oh! Your eyes can’t stand the light? I knew it! Twilight is the most light your eyes need? Would you like to be able to fly in circles all night long?”

      “Of course!” answered the tutor, trying to laugh and be pleasant. “I’m ‘batty,’ aren’t I?”

      “It’s nothing to brag about!” cried Miss Barbara, trembling with anger.

      And she dragged Elsie, dumbfounded, into the dark shadows of the little pathway.

      “His eyes, his poor eyes!” repeated Miss Barbara, with a convulsive shrug of her shoulders. “I can’t feel sorry

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