They come to the door with the second lock, but the girl isn’t the least bit curious (“Why would I want to look at jewels when I’m already surrounded by them?”) and they pass it by. Each room leads to more rooms. They come to the third door, gigantic and purple. The servants don’t say a word. The Forest Girl remembers the Illuminata’s instructions, shrugs her shoulders, and—always accompanied by servants—retraces her steps. In the next room, they offer her more sweets and libations. She laughs once more—her clockwork laugh—and her smile is frozen on her face, as if it has been painted there permanently.

She uses the first key again to return to the other side of the palace. She retires to her room. It’s just past noon, but she lies down on her bed and falls into a deep sleep. She dreams of her parents. This dream wipes the smile from her face. She’s troubled when she awakens, though she’s unsure why, trying not to remember what she’s just seen so clearly in her dream.

She jumps out of bed. The sun is setting. Once again, she passes through the door to the other side of the palace. She’s offered sweets, candies, and wine—a rainbow of colors—but she declines them all. She snoops around. She’s fascinated by the visible workings of a grandfather clock and begins to laugh without realizing that she and the clock sound remarkably similar; she contemplates an oil painting of a naked youth lying in front of a bearded old man.

The youth extends a hand, trying to reach the old man in vain. The Forest Girl feels sad and then angry. “Why doesn’t he get up? Why is he lying there like a newborn babe? Why is it so hard for him to stand on his own two legs? Why doesn’t the youth pull himself up by the old man’s beard?”

In the room that is also the library, the books sit next to things on the shelves. There is a bottle next to a spine that reads The Genie in the Bottle. A globe rests atop A Treatise on Geography. A little wooden chest sits next to The Treasure Chest. There’s a spinning wheel next to Sleeping Beauty. The Prince and a tiny crown. Cinderella and a little gold slipper. She sits down to read a book with an absurd title: Theme without Language. The clocks mark the hours’ passage. Trays with food and sweets circulate. “They want to stupefy me with excess. But I won’t let them. I’m going to see everything, everything.”

Late that night the Forest Girl returns; in the butler’s pantry off the kitchen, she eats a slice of bread with herring; she drinks some water, continues to read, and without having laughed once, she announces to the servants that she’s going to bed.