Again the carriage turned, into the lane this time, and now the sunlight was caught up by the scissors over the gate, and thrown dazzlingly down into their faces.
Monsieur smiled as he looked at Joyce, a tender, gentle smile that one would have supposed never could have been seen on those harsh lips.

She was almost standing up in the carriage, in her excitement.
"Oh, it has come true!" she cried, clasping her hands together, "The gates are really opening at last!" Yes, the Ogre, whatever may have been its name, no longer lived.

Its spell was broken, for now the giant scissors no longer barred the way.
Slowly the great gate swung open, and the carriage passed through.

Joyce sprang out and ran on ahead to open the door.

Hand in hand, just as when they were little children, Martin and Desire, this white-haired brother and sister went back to the old home together; and it was Christmas Day, in the morning.
* * * * * At five o'clock that evening the sound of Gabriel's accordeon went echoing up and down the garden, and thirty little children were marching to its music along the paths, between the rows of blooming laurel.