"Oh, I feel I am going to turn," wailed Milk. "I'm not afraid," said the Dog, trembling in every limb, "but if you run away.... I shall run away too ... and with the greatest pleasure...." The Cat sat pulling at her whiskers: "I know what's what," she said, in her usual mysterious way. "Be quiet," said Light. "The Fairy gave strict orders. You are all to stay with me, at the gate of the graveyard; the Children are to go in alone." Tyltyl felt anything but pleased. He asked: "Aren't you coming with us?" "No," said Light. "The time for that has not arrived. Light cannot yet enter among the Dead. Besides, there is nothing to fear. I shall not be far away; and those who love me and whom I love always find me again...." She had not finished speaking, when everything around the Children changed. The wonderful temple, the dazzling flowers, the splendid gardens vanished to make way for a poor little country cemetery, which lay in the soft moonlight. Near the Children were a number of graves, grassy mounds, wooden crosses and tombstones. Tyltyl and Mytyl were seized with terror and hugged each other: "I am frightened!" said Mytyl. "I am never frightened," stammered Tyltyl, who was shaking with fear, but did not like to say so. "I say," asked Mytyl, "are the Dead wicked?" "Why, no," said Tyltyl, "they're not alive!..." "Have you ever seen one?" "Yes, once, long ago, when I was very young...." "What was it like?" "Quite white, very still and very cold; and it didn't talk...." "Are we going to see them?" Tyltyl shuddered at this question and made an unsuccessful effort to steady his voice as he answered: "Why, of course, Light said so!" "Where are the Dead?" asked Mytyl. Tyltyl cast a frightened look around him, for the Children had not dared to stir since they were alone: "The Dead are here," he said, "under the grass or under those big stones." "Are those the doors of their houses?" asked Mytyl, pointing to the tombstones. "Yes." "Do they go out when it's fine?" "They can only go out at night." "Why?" "Because they are in their night-shirts." "Do they go out also when it rains?" "When it rains, they stay at home." "Is it nice in their homes?" "They say it's very cramped." "Have they any little children?" "Why, yes, they have all those who die." "And what do they live on?" Tyltyl stopped to think, before answering. As Mytyl's big brother, he felt it his duty to know everything; but her questions often puzzled him. Then he reflected that, as the Dead live under ground, they can hardly eat anything that is above it; and so he answered very positively: "They eat roots!" Mytyl was quite satisfied and returned to the great question that was occupying her little mind: "Shall we see them?" she asked. "Of course," said Tyltyl, "we see everything when I turn the diamond." "And what will they say?" Tyltyl began to grow impatient: "They will say nothing, as they don't talk." "Why don't they talk?" asked Mytyl.