"Now life is beginning again!" thought the Tree.
It felt the fresh air and the first sunbeams, and now it was out in
the courtyard. Everything passed so quickly that the Tree quite
forgot to look at itself, there was so much to look at all round. The
courtyard was close to a garden, and here everything was blooming; the
roses hung fresh and fragrant over the little paling, the linden trees
were in blossom, and the swallows cried, "Quinze-wit! quinze-wit! my
husband's come!" But it was not the Fir Tree that they meant.
"Now I shall live!" said the Tree, rejoicingly, and spread its
branches far out; but, alas! they were all withered and yellow; and it
lay in the corner among nettles and weeds. The tinsel star was still
upon it, and shone in the bright sunshine.
In the courtyard a couple of the merry children were playing who had
danced round the tree at Christmas time, and had rejoiced over it. One
of the youngest ran up and tore off the golden star.
"Look what is sticking to the ugly old fir tree!" said the child, and
he trod upon the branches till they cracked again under his boots.
And the Tree looked at all the blooming flowers and the splendor of
the garden, and then looked at itself, and wished it had remained in
the dark corner of the garret; it thought of its fresh youth in the
wood, of the merry Christmas Eve, and of the little Mice which had
listened so pleasantly to the story of Klumpey-Dumpey.
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